The Legend of Randidly Ghosthound

Randidly’s chest felt like it was on fire. His brain had heated to the point it felt almost cold, numbing all his awareness. A slight tremor had taken up residence in his hand.

Yet he refused to stop.

With twenty-five shapes remaining until Randidly believed he would complete his Class Philosopher’s Stone, the assembly became almost impossible. He simply could not find any room to stuff the shapes into pearl without shattering it to pieces, despite the fact that his instincts told him it could be done.

Yet he had survived thus far by relying on his instincts. He focused. His impression of time slowed. His headache hammered at him with heavier and heavier mallets. The numbness spread. He ignored it and continued to work.

The first thing he did to find additional space was pull out the Codex Hexahedron and scan the pearl. That came with painful hooks digging into his brainstem, but he did immediately find above five more locations for the shapes.

The inner-space of the pearl fluttered like the wind playing with the pages of a pop-up book. As the display shifted, Randidly saw into the rapid expansion of houses, tunnels, possibilities, shapes, truths, and then those same thoroughfares of meaning fold back on themselves and close, to reveal others.

Those tantalizing hints he had sensed were so close to coalescing into substance.

Yet no matter how he searched, he could find no other possibilities. Distantly, he felt Padraic’s concern rapidly edging toward panic. He did not have an infinite time limit on this. Neveah’s consciousness brushed against his, reassuring him she would monitor the clay body of humanity. He needed his entire being focused on this.

A groan escaped Randidly’s lips as he began to fold his perspective in the Nether manner, peering deeply into the pearl to open and close it in unorthodox ways. The small became large, the large small, the inside out, and the secret unfolded to become blatant. Just looking at it, Randidly could see how powerful this Philosopher's Stone would be when completed, how much humanity would benefit, how much everyone in his Alpha Cosmos would benefit.

Even through the haze of pain and weariness, he stilled at that awareness. Because this object could be a gift for all the people who had followed him. A legacy.

Because Randidly knew that even if he managed to reach the end of his story, to wrest control of the Nexus from Elhume and establish the Alpha Cosmos, that wouldn’t be the end of all stories. His talks with Solomon Rex had made it clear that the Nexus would inevitably crash back into the main universe. And these brushes with the Cult of the Savior, even just within the memory, taught him that dangerous foes would be waiting outside.

Randidly might still be around at that time, but he also might not. This Philosopher’s Stone would let others pick up the torch.

He had always felt vast gratitude to the people who supported him and his efforts to thank them always felt insufficient. Yet as Randidly imagine the Philosopher’s Stone that was only a few shapes away from coming into being, he saw a way to provide for them. To repay all the trust placed in him.

A change occurred in Randidly’s heart, one that he wasn’t sure he’d been able to manage, one he knew he would need for today’s efforts to be worth it, but that he wasn’t able to force. For the first time, Randidly felt the whole of his being shifting its focus: he wanted this weapon for his people so badly, he almost didn’t care what he needed to do to accomplish it.

The looming certainty of failure in his attempts drifted away from his mind. He said a silent prayer of apology for the humanity within the memory. Because he sure as hell would be willing to sacrifice them in order to arm his people with this.

The folding perspective began to occur faster and faster. Randidly twisted and wrenched, found first three openings for shapes, then four more. He folded and folded, seeking out those last spaces. After an exhaustive amount of shifting and twisting, he managed to find the space for two more.

Randidly pulled back and looked at the pearl. His neck tingled unpleasantly, as though he had slept on it wrong, for about a hundred years. The pearl appeared to be almost constantly shivering, as though it was cold. The movement wasn’t physical, but a weird amount of superpositions, manifesting and non-manifesting so that it was sometimes larger, sometimes smaller, but always appearing in motion.

Hurry, Neveah whispered.

“Seriously, fuck this,” Randidly clenched his jaw. He flicked a hand and produced one of the two Breath of the Ghosthound gifted to him by the Pantheon. He raised it to his lips, the glittering powder in his palm and blew it across the pearl.

Immediately, he felt the shift in the pearl. A deep chime echoed out from the object as reoriented itself. He felt an answering call in his chest, strengthening the metamorphosis. As he watched, there was a slight wiggle, a creation of space. He grinned, unable to help himself. Rapidly, he slid the last few shapes into the pearl. He had ten shapes to go, eight shapes, five shapes, three shapes. He folded his perspective, twisting into the smallest crevices to find an opening. The museum maze transformed again, becoming almost liquid, its barriers and openings constantly flowing from one into the other.

The engravings of Nathan rhythmically throbbed, resembling a pulse.

Randidly believed it would be difficult, even with the item provided by the Pantheon. He slid the second-to-last shape into place and resolved himself for a long slog to find the last opening. His mind, despite how worn down it was, already whirred to think of other options, applications of his Skills in order to free up what he needed. He forcefully suppressed Deganawidah’s imperative, which loomed within him, vindictive and imposing.

Yet he flickered through about a hundred folding perspectives and found what he sought: right at the center of the Pearl, there was one last bit of space. Randidly slid the shape into place, making the Pearl whole.

Congratulations! Warning! Congratulations! Warning! Congratulations! Warning!

Your item the Near-Perfect Boundless Nacre has grown into the Stone of Boundless Nacre (???)!

Congratulations! Warning! Congratulations! Warning! Congratulations! Warning!

Nonsense notifications began to spring up before him and Randidly shoved them to the side. The pearl glittered in front of him, flickering even faster at its edges, unsure of what it was, what it would be, what it had been. Strangely, Randidly could almost see the entirety of its existence, its future stretching forward, its past just beginning, all the time it possessed. And the Engravings had vanished, replaced by a constant aurora, a glittering field of light that danced across its surface-

Some force of rejection slammed into the pearl. The Nether Ritual tore. The energy shunting Engravings Randidly had carved into the ground shattered, causing the ground to rupture. Randidly plucked up the pearl and looked around furiously, expecting to find that the Prophet had tried to snipe his creation right at the moment of creation.

Yet the Prophet was far across the room, just staring blankly at him. Padraic crouched over the clay body of humanity, muttering and furiously writing out runes in the air. Frowning, Randidly looked down at the Pearl. He quickly wove together another Nether Ritual, this one of pure protection. He wrapped the Cloak of Utter Night around the Pearl. And then he waited, an eye toward the imperative implanted in his Fateset.

This is what we are trying to create, Randidly spoke to his hollow Fateset. This is why we are struggling against the universe. Do you see? We can finally take fate into our own hands.

As he expected, the powerful force of rejection arrived again, vast and overwhelming. But, to his surprise, the imperative from Deganawidah didn’t even lift a finger. It simply watched.

Weirdly, it seemed like the imperative released a sigh.

Congratulations! Your Skill The Cloak of Utter Night (P) has grown to Level 1056!

…

Congratulations! Your Skill The Cloak of Utter Night (P) has grown to Level 1079!

The pearl released a dangerous groan, causing beads of sweat to form on Randidly’s brow. Again, his Nether Ritual became naught but torn fluff before the force aiming for the pearl. Luckily, the Cloak of Utter Night cushioned most of the blow, but he could still feel the damage inflicted on the Pearl. Damage that it could endure and repair, so long as Randidly could protect it.

Yet a chill ran up Randidly’s spine. Because suddenly, with an awful sort of instinctual certainty, he understood what was happening. His pupils dilated as he flicked through his various energy visions, looking for the particular thread of what he sought.

Randidly had created an item of total wholeness. There was no absence, no emptiness, to any of it. The combination of the Breath of the Ghosthound and his perspective folding had seen to that. The pearl existed, more real than anything else. He had expected that to be the difficult part, but that had been remarkably easy.

…because without that mundane absence within its substance, as the ineffable force of time attempted to flow past, it instead slammed against the pearl. It had no natural channels through which to pass. As soon as he suspected it, he could see it, suddenly grasping the basic flows of time around him due to the deviation caused by the pearl.

Randidly felt the watchful presence of the imperative, no longer as vindictive, but tired, tired just as he was. ‘Do you see?’ the imperative whispered. ‘I never was stopping you. There are no antagonists in this little story of yours. It is simply impossible.’

One of the phrases used by Deganawidah had caught in Randidly’s brain and floated to the surface now. ‘Shape nor moment’. Because those were the two absolutes, a shape like the one Randidly had created now, which couldn’t survive the passage of time. Or a pure moment, the Pinnacle, where the shape deteriorated and faded in the aftermath.

Just before the next wave of time came slamming into the absolute Pearl he had created, Randidly gritted his teeth. “The First Authority… Seize.”

Randidly grabbed time and stilled it, just in the area around the Pearl.

In that manner he stood frozen, the meager significance he had recovered rapidly draining out of his Nether Core. Another subtle pulse of time flowed past and then another arrived and essentially emptied out all of his energy. The force of time came inexorably, lapping against his resistance, wearing down Randidly’s resources. He wracked his brain, trying to understand what he could do. He even opened up his Status Screen and looked through all his Skills, hoping he had forgotten some solution.

He clenched his jaw harder, as though that would help. Neveah fed him elaborate Engraving schemes that he dutifully carved into the broken ground around the pearl. It would sustain it, at least for a time, when he could no longer hold back the waves of time.

Weirdly, Randidly felt his mind drifting as his fingers moved. Back to those days when he had laid alone on his bed, feeling powerless. That sense of mute frustration, of wanting to shout and cry and knowing you would receive nothing for your pain, was a feeling he hated.

Because that was the one joy of the System, wasn’t it? That he would never have zero options to move forward. That so long as he worked hard-

Randidly released a sob, his chest burning. As it turned out, that brief certainty about the long-reaching implications of this object’s creation turned poisonous.

When his Nether Core finally gave out and the Engravings flared to defiant life, Randidly kneeled on the ground, his posture slouched. Yggdrasil pulled the last dregs of energy out of the Cult of the Savior’s defensive array. When that proved to be insufficient to pump life back through Randidly, it reached out further, pulling energy out of the sky and into his body. His Nether Core huffed wearily as it accelerated back up to speed.

Congratulations! Your Skill Infinite Incendiary Filaments of the Dove Moirae (P)(U) has grown to Level 1150!

He flexed his fingers. Some aspect of existence finally came into focus, where time flowed with a pulsing inversion of light, a line in his vision that glittered like a mirror angled to reflect the setting sun. He watched it wash against Neveah’s brilliant designs… and rub them away, bit by bit.

Struck by a strange insight, Randidly raised his gaze and looked up, directly at Pine despite the danger. He could feel, through the confines of the memory, the monstrous hole of the current Pine stirring as it scented a new source of sustenance to suck dry. Yet he ignored that risk for a moment, just to follow the pulse of time across Pine’s body.

That’s the genius of the Nexus, of the whole System, Randidly thought, somewhere between incredulity and awe. We are a suspended bubble, created as time rubs away the perfect life that is Pine, a genuine Shallah.

He tore his gaze away; his insights could wait. His eyes were bloodshot as they locked back on the pearl, ignoring the small cracks that had begun to form along its edges. Now came the part Randidly did best: struggling.

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