Zenith Online: Rebirth of the Strongest Player



Kieran grew surprised with how the Fiends fell into the flow of things, following the examples the Followers of War set. He had come to regard the Order of War and Flame as a wild bunch of unruly men who only listened to the rule of the Flame.

Anyone below the Flame was unfit to lead them, discounting Cardinal Weiss, who could be considered an emissary of the Flame. He acted as an extension of the Flame's will, exercising little of his own discretion. 

That much had proven the Cardinal's inability to act of his own volition unless he was drained entirely of Significance.

Unlike the Fiends, who assisted in transporting supplies and other minutiae needed to fuel a lengthy war where an unthinkable number of deaths would occur, Kieran fell into the background, lingering in the shadows where his presence was barely sensed.

The Flame had taught him to employ his recently tempered Mind to manipulate his presence and achieve a near-seamless assimilation with the ambient resentments. Of course, the resentments in the Ravaged Plains were utterly lacking, but the sheer volume within the entire Wailing Sierra made the saturation levels passable.

Kieran performed something similar to Altair's ability in principle but entirely different in execution. The difference was comparable to a domesticated dog and their wild wolf, which descended from common roots, but their ultimate situation was vastly different.

There was also the fact Altair could dissipate into shadow itself once the Lightless Shroud engulfed his body, making discerning his location next to impossible.

Kieran had once tried to glean his location and found it stressed his eyes until they burned.

'Speaking of Altair… how long until they reach here? And how are they going to be received?'

Kieran didn't know if the other Inheritors were linked to any authorities with great martial force or if they were traveling completely alone, but he relished the idea of them reaching here soon. 

The anxiety bubbling in his gut transformed into excitement, giving birth to a bevy of emotions. Kieran had no time to sit down and contemplate. At least he knew the reason for these strange instinctual feelings — his mind sensed the brewing tension, gently coming to a boil that would eventually overflow. 

The final battle.

Why here, though?

Curious, Kieran perused the area, starting with the Ravaged Plain. 

The other fortress, much smaller in comparison and leaking a similarly deathly vibe, was a curiosity he couldn't ignore. But he also wouldn't approach without raising alarm within the encampment.

Part of the Followers of War's forces were tasked with building steel palisade fences to fortify the half-ruined fortress. It was a defense against the enemy to come.

To what effect that palisade would hold, Kieran didn't know. 

If the enemy was merely more Bloodwights, the sturdy funnel being built could perhaps aid in their efforts to quell the enemy before they became an untenable issue, but Kieran didn't see it playing out so simply.

Not when the Flame was the mastermind of this entire… festival, it called it.

'Festivals are usually filled with surprises. I wonder… what does the Flame consider the shock of our lives?'

Understanding that he was not to trespass into the territory of the opposing fortress, Kieran exhausted what little mystic essence he accumulated to deduce clues, but what he obtained was unnerving. 

It was an experience completely foreign to him.

As he encountered the bizarre reenactment of ancient events, Kieran staggered, likely stumbling across what caused the mountain to go missing. 

An age-old, earth-shattering war waged… in the sky, something Kieran couldn't fathom at all. What tier of energy was needed to walk upon the sky as if it were land?

Then, a question floated into Kieran's mind, invading his thoughts until he paid it sparse attention.

'Could Agrianos fly? Did I ever see him fly? Is this feat more shocking than ripping holes in the fabric of space?'

Both defied the laws of nature, going against what should be possible, so Kieran remained mystified by them in equal measure. Until marveling at the cataclysmic war in the sky had shifted his opinion to lean toward one side.

Kieran craned his neck and stared in rapt awe, jaw slackened, and eyes widened. 

A blurred figure fell like a meteor enveloped in several destructive and ruinous energy he couldn't place. His experiences were shallow but deeper than most Novices, yet he came up empty. The scene was pure chaos and was uniquely terrifying, leading him to recoil in a subconscious retreat.

This was a battle far beyond his realm of understanding. And because the reenactment wasn't clear, fueled by a pittance of mystic essence, its meaning and cohesion faded rapidly.

But one event was captured with unquestionable clarity — the figure falling out of the sky and their body obliterating the entire mountain in a thunderous explosion. It was devastation of unparalleled amounts — the ability to terraform terrain with a simple action.

Kieran hunched over, taking deep gasps as sweat formed a tiny plash between his large, rugged hands. Blinking the absurd scene away left him in utter disbelief.

While he was unsure if the strange vision related to the start or end of the war, Kieran understood that at some point, one man stood against five. One strike had amounted to the most ridiculous scene he had ever seen. 

'Land leveled with a strike. And what the hell was that huge attack? It felt like the world itself had been summoned and pulled to muster a crushing blow. A world crushing blow…'

After settling his emotions, Kieran continued examining the smoothened landmass sans his mystic eyesight. Without his eyes' help, he didn't glean much else of value. He suspected his vision encompassed the pith of all his curiosities.

'I wish those six figures weren't so blurry. Then again, I don't think that was an issue born from my eyes. They seemed enshrouded by the relevance of the world.'

Kieran froze and contemplated it all.

'…If that even makes sense. Well, something shrouded them, and it simply wasn't my time to know.'

Having exhausted the embedded meaning of the Ravaged Plains, Kieran turned around and walked past laboring, low-ranking Followers of War gingerly approaching the citadel's entrance. 

Arriving at the archway of its gatehouse only deepened his unbecoming kinship with this citadel — as if it certainly didn't belong here.

'No… it's definitely out of place. Who put this huge thing here?!'

Kieran had learned from Hekaina that the Endless were incapable of directly interacting with anything Boundary, but had that always been a clause in the doctrines of their immense power? Or, had some grave event resulted in a drastic upheaval of the world's order?

If it were the latter, Kieran suddenly felt highly insignificant.

'What kind of power exists to regulate the Endless? Do they have an overseer far beyond them in power?'

With these thoughts endlessly roaming around in his mind, Kieran stepped into the frosty darkness of the citadel. It wasn't a chill felt by the body but by the spirit. It was an emotional chill, both icy and fiery, paradoxically assaulting the mind. 

Kieran knew the feeling all too well.

The Wailing Sierra was wreathed in the damned thing.

'More resentments. But these ones are strange… too strange. It's like they still have an owner, and I can't absorb them. That's concerning.'

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