Zenith Online: Rebirth of the Strongest Player



The Fiends' march through the Land of Ruin was unbroken, fueled by the indefatigable vigor the Flame graced them with. There was also the ruthless standard that the Cardinal of War and Flame held them to, expecting zero complaints as he led them across the razed land.

Their pace was neither fast nor slow, maintaining a moderate and seemingly deliberate gait. All of the Fiends could move much faster, and Kieran was intimately aware of that fact, but the Cardinal seemed intentional in how he approached.

Why?

The man didn't move with fear. His head was held high, his shoulders were lax, bereft of any signs of nervousness or uncertainty, and his demeanor had grown taciturn and focused.

Then, Kieran thought back to the Sacred Inheritor's comments. 

A lot of activity ensued near and perhaps upon the Wailing Sierra. If that was their final destination, they seemed in no rush to get there.

Kieran had asked about the identity of the people moving to quell the activity, but her knowledge was limited, which was understandable. Unlike him, who had come into the Trial with a connection to an organization with grand aspirations, the Sacred Inheritor had wound up in a strange oasis, divorced from the happenings of the world.

As she explained it, she had only come across the oasis' exit after she developed the ability to create a bridge, which borrowed upon the principles used to commune with the other Inheritors. It was some kind of strange transcendental ability that neither Kieran nor the Sacred Inheritor could explain.

Kieran didn't press the matter further as it was not something he truly cared about. As long as she made it to the final battlefield, that's all that mattered to him.

Eventually, Kieran's thoughts cleared up… somewhat. His concern remained primarily vested in the Lifeless Pass and Wailing Sierra that loomed before him. His ambivalence was hard to put into words as he felt emotions akin to excitement and anxiety. 

He soon recognized the sum of those emotions — a fear of the unknown.

There was a foreboding thrill woven into his thoughts. 

For some reason, he was reminded of the Place of Bane the Flame spoke of. It was referred to as the Fiend's Home, but what about the Wailing Sierra? What was that to him?

Should a Child of Resentment openly walk upon that land?

The questions burned in Kieran's mind. And the closer they came to that land, the more intense that burning grew. It became a fierce inferno that set his heart ablaze. 

Until the Lifeless Pass was reached, where a peculiar change occurred.

Slowly, the world vanished from his surroundings, becoming a black expanse where he continued to walk forward. Faint whispers grew in volume. Dissonant and unsettling, they wafted past Kieran's ear, welcoming and guiding him.

Those maddening whispers spoke of returning home and how they awaited his arrival. He could feel their pull, and he could feel the attraction that originated from his presence.

Walking amongst the Lifeless Pass, Kieran saw innumerable eerie shades floating idly. The way they drifted seemed aimless but remained confined to a limited area — the area of their demise. Those resentments lingered as if tethered and chained to where they had fallen, creating a chilling ambiance. 

Every resentment was unique, bearing one-of-a-kind indicators that made their forms vaguely discernible.

Through some unknown and disconcerting ability, the resentments called out to Kieran in his voice. Then, they broke free from their tethers, voluntarily flowed into Kieran's mouth, and disappeared.

Kieran felt a bit colder with every resentment that flowed into his mouth. 

In this darkened world, the approaching Wailing Sierra seemed different. What was initially gray and lifeless was crimson and teeming with dire might. It rolled off the proud mountain and cascaded into the depths of the Screaming Night, which seemed like a boundless expanse of red in Kieran's current vision.

The redness spoke to macabre beings resting beneath the surface but reeked of dissolution. This strange experience proved Kieran suspicions about those abyssal depths. 

The only thing that followed falling into the Screaming Night was death. What kind of death? Kieran was still determining.

Based on the Flame's tellings, death came in countless forms and had several meanings.

A few moments later, the contingent of Fiends reached the foothill of the Wailing Sierra that granted entry to its eerie lands. During his first visit, Kieran had been tested by the resentments to see what he could withstand.

This time around, the entry was effortless and anticlimactic.

'…Not at all what I expected. I thought there'd be more challenge here.'

Perhaps the young Fiend had yet to learn his lesson or understand the meaning of being careful of what you wished for. Either way… his expectations were met, and his illusions were realized.

The Wailing Sierra recognized the Child of Resentment and with that recognition came a drastic change in what Kieran felt. The air grew dense until it felt like he was walking through a viscous liquid. A sense of danger but also kinship deluged Kieran's mind as a cloudburst of resentment rained down upon him, bathing him thoroughly.

Whereas the other Fiend has kept walking, Kieran tarried. 

This sensation was no foreign feeling, but Kieran had not expected to feel something like this so soon. This sensation hinted at another baptism.

The similarities between the baptisms he had experienced thus far were uncanny. No blood was involved here, but it graced Kieran with ample power — too much of it.

It felt wrong — oh so very wrong.

The power seeped into his body first, then invaded his Realm. All this power made him feel bloated and on the verge of bursting. Yet, there was a kinship amidst the energy that stopped Kieran from rejecting the resentment.

The affability of those resentments was twisted and deceptive. What it truly wanted was supremacy. Kieran could feel his subconscious attempting to be supplanted. The resentments wanted to lead. 

Perhaps Kieran should have despaired at the thought, but he didn't. He knew his path all too well. What needed to be done was clear to him. The radical, free-floating resentment couldn't be left to its own devices — it had to be brought under his control.

Kieran mustered all of his Will, bringing his defiance to bear. 

Then, he reached out to the Testament with painstaking attempts. A force attempted to pull him back, precluding the activation of that dreadful thing. To the unattuned resentments, it felt like another prison, and they spurned the thought of being imprisoned once more.

'…It's not up for debate. You won't stop me.'

Despite the pressure, Kieran lumbered toward the Testament of a Fiend's Defiance. When he finally made contact, the tamed voices slumbering inside surged to life. A dark vortex appeared at the heart of the Testament, and the radical resentments were voraciously devoured.

It didn't take long for Kieran to feel engorged, but that's where the Flame came into play.

"There is nothing more delightful than when a plan comes together."

The Wailing Sierra was an accursed place where the boundary between the Place of Bane and Xenith blurred, allowing rampant resentment to run amok. It was also where one receptive to these dark powers could be reforged.

And reforged Kieran was — his Mind.

The Furthered Scale of Balance groaned, barely enduring the influx of dark energies. Condemnation burrowed deeper into the Realm, occupying Kieran's Mind and Body Territories with a terrifying swiftness.

Throughout the process, Kieran gave the Scales an objective.

"Drink and consume."

With a deep gasp, Kieran opened his eyes, and the Wailing Sierra stopped trying to make him its avatar. There was something more dreadful than it could ever hope to be present inside that young Fiend.

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