The Legend of Randidly Ghosthound

The Keystone of the First Ghasthund looked like a misty sphere in Randidly’s hand. A grand collapse occurred as all that force building up around Elhume was prematurely activated. A shockwave ripped toward, cracking open the skyisland and shooting the participants in every direction. Randidly barely had time to reach out and send Devick into the Alpha Cosmos before he was knocked away.

He fell through the sky with the wreckage of his skyisland around him, just gripping his Sixth Fatepiece. He smiled. “This is the beginning, isn’t it? Because after this…”

His march toward the final confrontation felt like it had begun to gather momentum. Evolution of his Class. Refinement of his Nether. Creation of a Penance and Fate. Marshaling all the forces at his disposal to meet Elhume directly. Overthrow the leader of the Nexus.

Win. Create a universe where the weak aren’t used as fertilizer.

For now, the Keystone of the First Ghasthund sat at Level 1. But it hinted at a future-

Randidly crashed into the ground, almost losing his grip on his Fatepiece. Bits of cracked stone impacted his body as several large boulders crashed into the ground around him and burst. Gradually, the dust and debris faded, leaving Randidly staring up into the sky. The milky patterns of manipulated time began to fray and fall apart. A massive grey dome had spread across the area that Randidly had concentrated on, but now the barrier tore open, revealing a vast night sky. Countless stars twinkled through the widening gap.

Randidly breathed in through his nose and out through his mouth. What’s next?

You need to give up the extra benefit you earned for the Mille Deux, but it only really manifested within the memory, so it’s not much of a sacrifice. Neveah answered. Others have greater Skill Level achievement in the wider Nexus. As for the rest of it, heh. Obviously, we are going to try and strike as vicious a blow we can manage, now that you’ve defined Ghasthund.

Randidly’s lips quirked up. The sky above was beautiful, but he felt an emotion swinging between bemusement and annoyance. …I can tell how smug you are. Alright, what’s your trick, Neveah?

*****

Lowanna had been surprised when the Nether forces crumbled so quickly underneath the concerted onslaught from Aether. She watched the crush of bodies, her wrists aching from the heavy bindings of black wicker around them. Some warriors from Homewell were involved in the blitzkrieg offense, but the Nether Arbiter had stood in the core of their camp and seen the wicked shadows that slew her people. Fury bubbled in her chest, but she bided her time, waiting for Cult of the Savior’s Scythe to carve a path toward its own doom.

The last line of defense had been several of Deganawidah’s powerful Nether Warriors, all elites that had severed the Thrice Drowned for at least a century. Their weapons gleamed with polished significance. Yet even they quickly fell before the concentrated strikes.

“How?” Enmya had been so shocked he had leapt to his feet.

“The words of the Nether Arbiter weigh heavily across our people,” Deganawidah’s wide mouth remained almost entirely still as he spoke. His anger was a heavy stone waiting beneath the flowing sounds of battle. “Those fanatics and their false light… twisted minds they might have, but that does not mean they will miss an obvious weakness.”

Lowanna could only bite her lip. Now that it had been pointed out, she saw the way the Scythe moved, striking at the bared hearts of her people. Now that connections had become an explicit burden, they could be attacked and cut away. Especially due to the resentment that had built up in the Nether people, the subconscious distaste for the current system.

In a way, they almost supported the severing of those bonds. Which was why the Scythe made such easy work of them.

Yet at the same time, Lowanna believed Deganawidah’s disappointment to be misplaced. In the end, the role of the Nether Arbiter was only a figurehead. It was Deganawidah’s generation that had allowed the pride of the Nether people to degenerate to this point, so they resented the bonds that had strengthened them for so long.

After only a few minutes, the bodies of the Nether Warriors began to collapse. Their significance curdled and faded, leaving nary a mark on the present as they passed. Turtlelines loosened their warbling battle cries and thundered forward through the opening. Nethers Warriors shouted and tried to contain the break, but it was too late. Through the brief window, two of the Turtleline leaders galloped forward, with the Scythe and the Prophet at their heels. The time for the final confrontation had arrived.

“Allow me,” Enmya had announced as their foes approached. He strode confidently forward, his power stretched across the surrounding space and tightening into a noose. He immediately ascended to become the Sovereign of the Breathless Vigil, strangling any resistance before it could even rise from the new arrivals. As always, Lowanna felt a strange sort of sadness looking at Enmya’s abilities; so much of his life had been around sculpting himself to protect her. But then-

Scythe had streaked across the distance and intercepted Enmya. Enmya’s hands had come up defensively, but the shadow creature passed harmlessly through and merged into the Sovereign's body. Enmya stiffened.

Then he had turned around and began to walk directly toward Lowanna, his eyes dyed black with a horrid compulsion. What had hurt more than his weakness was the reason.

Just like those Nether warriors who had believed their bonds to be a burden, Enmya could not have been forced to turn against her if he hadn’t possessed a small amount of hatred toward her. Expecting his heart to be spotless was unreasonable, but the blow still landed heavily on Lowanna’s heart.

The Nether Arbiter opened her mouth to speak, but his breathless vigil remained in place. To this Enmya that had been somehow puppeted by her opponent, she could say nothing to rouse him. She had trembled as she considered the options in front of her and liked none of them. Tears formed in the corner of her eyes. Seeing the smug expression on the Prophet’s face, she understood this method was purposefully designed to torture her.

In the end, the Cult of the Savior wanted to see her broken. The decision might have been delayed by the interference of Devick and Hungry Eye, but they still came to the same place in the end.

Lowanna raised her manacled hands, unsure of what she wanted to do, but sure she couldn’t remain inert. But Deganawidah stepped in front of her, suppressing the rising threads of significance she could wield without endangering her people. She blinked, unable to understand the look in Deaganwidah’s wide eyes.

Because for the first time, the monster looked on with warmth.

They could not speak, so she could only ask questions with her eyes. He avoided her gaze, but his massive fingers brushed her manacles, as though measuring their heft. When he lifted his gaze to meet hers, Deganawidah seemed strangely happy. His lips moved and his significance surged, just briefly knocking the Vigil askew.

Lowanna read his lips as he carefully intoned a phrase. Thrice-Drowned, Once Martyred.

Deganawidah’s hands twisted. He snapped her black wicker manacles in a sudden burst of violence. The shattered bits crumbled and fell to the ground. More importantly, Lowanna felt the shift in her Nether Core, a much more relevant change compared to the manacles. The breaking of the manacles had now actual meaning, but simultaneously all the Phaea she had been given flaked and faded away.

Be burdened no longer, Deganawidah stepped to the side with that ambiguous phrase. Lowanna’s body boiled, barely able to comprehend the situation. One fact became obvious: she no longer received energy flowing into her body due to Phaea, but all the energy she had accumulated remained under her control. Somehow, she could sense her people hadn’t been harmed by the process. She took a step forward and the ground shook.

She felt free.

She felt powerful.

The Nether Arbiter pointed and the Scythe erupted from Enmya’s body. Mid silent shout, Enmya deactivated his Vigil and the Scythe’s keening wail could be heard. But even louder was the follow-up laughter from the Prophet.

That smug bastard, with two mouths for eyes and a bulging eyeball for a mouth spread his arms wide. “So, finally, you couldn’t take it any longer, eh? How does it feel to reap the lives of your people and for it to feel so easy. They are all fuel on your pyre, Nether Arbiter. Embrace it. It will make this process much, much easier.”

Lowanna’s finger twitched. A massive blast of significance curled in from the side and knocked aside the pesky Turtline forces out of the way. Nether Warriors surged around, surrounding the two Cult of the Savior representatives. There was a slight change in the Prophet’s expression, but he didn’t back down. No, probably to him, the fact she acted was definitely a positive sign. “You know, I had imagined we would need to torture you. Heh, maybe just to satiate the Scythe a bit, but also to warp your perspective. Then, the real trick would be bringing a few of your Nether subordinates and killing them, extremely slowly, in front of you. But ha! None of that ended up being necessary. You, all on your own-”

Lowanna thrust her hands forward. At first she had believed that Hungry Eye’s interference had simply moved when this confrontation happened, but now she understood it was more than that. It also meant Deganawidah was present during this moment of tension. He could take his martyring action proactively, rather than reacting to her suddenly drawing on her people's debt.

So she knew exactly what she needed to do.

For a second, the Prophet seemed confused. Then he looked down at the hole in his chest, ripped open by a powerful explosion of significance. The small eye-mouths opened and closed. “You… what? Really? Without a hint of remorse.”

“I do not act casually,” Lowanna hissed. Then she raised her hands, the conductor finally freed from her constraints. “Once I have made a decision, I do not waste time regretting it.”

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