Like a wolf wearing the guise of a sheep, it wore a smile like that of a man, yet its visage was anything but.

Even through this glass display powered by lightning, that much was apparent.

“What is this? It seems apparent at a glance that the smile is a lie.”

“Anomaly # 9 is correct. This is… anomaly # 3. Very dangerous to organic life. Dangerous to even nonorganics,” W78 explained, opening its outer chassis and showing a very old scar within the inner parts of its metallic wiring. “Anomaly # 3 direct cause for current status of Class 4 Restricted Site. Cause of… termination of the last of the creators.”

There was pain in that admission. And there was pain in the scar too.

It was one of the strangest wounds Orodan had ever seen. Hells… he didn’t think he’d seen anything of its like within System space. It was as though the very idea of harm was laced into that most smooth incision delivered unto W78’s inner frame.

“Strong enough to get past your armor then? The wound is smooth, too smooth,” Orodan remarked.

“Attack bypassed proto-unit’s armor entirely. Wound was not delivered through… physical means. Danger comes from knowing, and seeing.”

Something Orodan had done already, as had W78. Yet clearly whatever this pale-faced smiling thing was, it couldn’t attack them here.

“It’s like the Eldritch then? Knowing about it causes the corruption? An insidious thing if that is the case… especially if everyone in your former world had access to these… glass screens of lightning,” Orodan spoke. “Does System space protect against its entry?”

“Anomaly # 3 initially capable of transmission through only visual means. Creators switched to audio, until anomaly adapted,” W78 spoke. “System arrived then. Prevented termination of this proto-unit. Protects all within.”

What a strange being this was. Furthermore, the unspoken truth was that it yet remained, undefeated and likely still preying on things still.

Xia had protested at how he had been dragged into System space, anointed the first time looper and then cast aside. But Orodan had to consider that beings like W78 had been saved by the System from a far worse fate. From the sounds of it, his metallic friend was likely on the cusp of getting murdered horrifically when the Eldritch Boundless One had intervened and pulled it and its kind into System space.

It was a sobering realization that while System space had its own monsters, the greater universe outside of it was replete with terrors and cruel things he had not seen the like of at all.

Though he carefully memorized the face of this odd creature who wore a smile like some twisted bait, with eyes which were far too hollow and skin which was a bit too pale. If it could attack through mere sight and knowledge of it…

…then perhaps a good fight when he went outside System space wasn’t out of the question.

“You have told me some absurd things today, W78. I believe you without question, but what would make you billions of years old,” Orodan said.

And he left unvoiced the fact that the robotic being had remained a Transcendent despite all that time. Unlike a mortal who might have faded long ago once the limits of their body and vitality were reached, the beings of the Unity could simply receive continual repairs, upgrades and the like. He would have to evaluate exactly what their growth rate was, but he hadn’t heard of any of their number having reached Embodiment either.

“Proto-unit enjoys a pleasant existence. Shepherding new units, meeting new friends, guiding Unity towards harmony and understanding with the rest of System space,” the robotic caretaker elaborated. “Advancement, unnecessary. Prime combat unit designated for task. Advancement calculated, within next billion years.”

A billion years? That was far too slow! Even by the standards of many of the other Embodiers he had seen across the cosmos that was nowhere near enough! Orodan decided then and there that his friends in the Unity simply needed good training, and he would help them in this moving forward.

A1 and even W78, he was determined to help grow stronger. If only so that the next time that thing came by, his friend was not as helpless as it had been back then.

But for now, his own training awaited.

“Memetic Hazard Mastery. How does one go about learning it? What… is it exactly?” Orodan asked. “I might understand better if subject to it a few times. Even better if I acquire the resistance skill for it first.”

“Query impossible. Subject’s baseline cognitive parameters render memetic resistance training futile. Facility not equipped. Proto-unit projects anomalies outside System space also not equipped. Anomalous property: Infinity.”

A shame. He had truly wanted to test himself against whatever foul method these things used to prey upon their victims. But it was not to be.

“Memetic Hazard. Danger through information. Similar to Eldritch truth,” W78 carried on. “Very similar to the gaze of friend: Orodan Wainwright, when administering Infinity unto hostile targets.”

“I’m already capable of it then. Though it’s not a method of combat I intend to use.”

“Observation: subject’s parameter - honor; designation - stupid.”

“You…! How is it stupid to fight fairly? It’s how my martial skills have gotten so high over the course of the loops!” Orodan protested.

“Understanding of memetics will enhance time looper’s ability to counter foreign corruption. Projected odds of success with grand ambition - decent.”

That… made a lot of sense.

His end goal was to replace the corrupt System with one of his own and freely offer it without any coercion or strings attached. To that end, understanding the principles behind memetics would be important if he intended to counter and purge the Eldritch completely from all System space.

It would also make his second pass at the time loop mechanism more stable, as a significant barrier to doing all he did was the continual assault by the two Boundless. And from the sounds of it, their very nature seemed memetic and hazardous for sapient life. Which, if Orodan had a better understanding of, he could perhaps manage better.

But chiefly, he was not blind as to what he was slowly ascending towards becoming.

Orodan wouldn’t say he was a Boundless One, but if there was anything close to that among sapient life, something which blurred the lines between mortal and conceptual being, it would be him. He wasn’t the only one who thought this, the Intelligence Service had gathered comprehensive notes sourced from scholars across all factions of the alliance, and when presented with the full story of the time loops and his journey as compiled by looping chroniclers, a number of experts felt that he was an anomaly closer to a Boundless than a man.

One half-dragon sage had even theorized that if he truly were to replace the System with his own… then what stopped Infinity from gradually corrupting peoples’ minds like the Eldritch currently did?

It had been a sobering report to read, and the contents of it were prominent in his mind as the notion of Memetic Hazard Mastery was being discussed.

Orodan simply nodded, crossed his legs and sat down before W78 as though a student ready to receive a sermon.

The ancient proto-unit began its instruction without any further ado.

“Memetic hazards are contagious thought, information which spreads in the mind. Infectious, in many cases, mind consumed entirely. Similar and overlapping with cognitive hazards, which cause harm. Memetic hazards, propagation and infection. Cognitohazards, harm and the mind being influenced to action.”

“And the thing which hurt you? What did it use?”

“Both. Memetic to infect the mind with its visage. Cognitohazard to allow manifestation within the mind after. And when the thought runs deep enough, a physical manifestation.”

That sounded insidious and very difficult to fight. Orodan wasn’t at all concerned about his own will and sturdiness of thought, he would simply remain stubborn and smash any unwanted thoughts like a foe beneath his fist. But what of others? If such a thing was displayed in the sky over a large city? Or worse, in the void above a planet?

Catastrophe could be the only outcome.

It was an entirely weird and different medium of combat that Orodan had never heard of before. Even the mind mages he knew didn’t exactly have infectious properties with their mind magic. The closest person he’d seen was the Celestial Emperor with the Dao of Domination and Supremacy, but that had been no contagious thought either.

“Will you teach me?”

“Affirmative. Friend must learn for scenario where hostile entity assaults friendly forces via medium of memetics and cognitive processes,” W78 said and then brought out glass container, within, a rat. “Memetics, cognitohazards, frequently come accompanying. Proto-unit requests subject observe intensely as creature receives memetic exchange from anomaly # 8.”

His friend brought out a mug.

By all appearances, it was an ordinary mug and that should have been the end of it.

Except for the fact that it was full of obsidian. Finely carved dark glass, still quite sharp, but each piece was as small as a grain of sand. Visually, it made the thing look like a cup of dark, glossy powder.

Orodan felt something try and influence his mind, but it fell upon deaf ears against his stubbornness.

Unfortunately, the rat was not so lucky.

The moment W78 opened the container, the creature practically leapt towards the mug and began drinking the contents of the mug.

It was madness. It was suicide. And yet Orodan’s Vision of Purity showed him how the thought of drinking from the mug had essentially auto-completed in the rat’s mind on its own accord. Free will stolen away, the infectious thought consuming it entirely even as its insides began shredding from the substance.

“Foul… is this how these things fight? Better to die with sword in hand than fall like a mindless husk as the mind is consumed from within,” Orodan spoke as he approached the mug.

The object had a mind of its own, but it was also not stupid. It had senses. And it sensed him.

The rat immediately recoiled backwards as the pervasive thought upon its mind was cleared and it realized that it was ending its own life by drinking razor-sharp obsidian grains. Orodan took pity on the poor creature used for experimentation and reversed time for it, putting it back into the container after a brief pat on the head.

And the mug itself suddenly became very, very inert. The grains almost shrinking inward, as though not wanting to show its contents to him.

“What happened? It suddenly stopped what it was doing…” he muttered.

“Anomalous observation. Unprecedented. Hypothesis: unique parameter - Infinity, recognized by anomaly # 8.”

Was it… scared of him?

By the look of it, that was definitely what it seemed like.

He knew this because of the sheer fear radiating off its soul. But oh, how alien and different it was. Orodan had been outside System space and briefly fought some hungry things when he’d experienced a death without looping for the first time, but he hadn’t had the time to look at any of their souls.

Now he did.

This thing clearly had a soul. A weird thing which he could not call a soul at all by his standards, but a soul nonetheless.

And his existing expertise in matters related to the soul let him recognize the fear and utter terror it was feeling. Not exactly the emotions a mortal would feel; closer to a desperate need to seek self-preservation, but close enough to the human equivalent that he felt comfortable labeling them as such.

“What an odd mug of ale…”

“Coffee, tea. Anomaly was originally meant to contain stimulant beverages,” W78 corrected. “Anomaly # 8… uncharacteristically passive. Proto-unit hopes time looper acquired relevant observational data?”

“I have. It infected the rat with a thought which completed within its mind on its own, akin to how a disease might begin and then flourish within the body. What’s more… I do not think I’ve seen any mind mages in my travels who utilized that technique. It sent out no pulse until it saw me, and that was only to stop the rat from dying. It relied on the creature itself having the stray thought and somehow the mere idea corrupted the poor rodent.”

Alastaian and even Thazrivinian mind mages plied their trade in the conventional manner of establishing a connection to the target mind via mana or soul energy. But the very basis of that still involved reaching out and taking the first step of their own accord.

This thing shaped as coffee mug though, did none of that. Whatever thought it inspired in the rat, Orodan had seen absolutely no transfer of energy whatsoever. Not via the material plane nor via any dimensional pathways. Rather, it was as though the very sight of it had caused a fatal thought to take root and subsume the target’s mind.

“Memetics. Structuring of possible thoughts in pattern evoking cognitive takeover,” W78 explained. “Friend - Orodan Wainwright, possesses unique parameter; natural memetic thought pattern when perceived in entirety.”

Memetics then, involved no direct mind manipulations. Perhaps those wandering parlor tricksters he’d seen passing through Ogdenborough who claimed to be capable of hypnotizing someone were closer to memetics than any mind mage.

Still, this subject would require study, and he wasn’t a natural at this sort of thing like he was something martial.

But he had to wonder why the cup was supposedly so appealing? He found himself thinking about drinking from it, and yes, right away he could see why the rat had fallen victim to it. The automatic thought process in his head was markedly different. A pull far stronger than any social skill he’d ever encountered. If he allowed it, he would be sipping from it too.

It was a smart rat too. Used to dwelling among people it seemed. When it saw cups, it naturally knew that people drank from them, and so the thought process of it taking a sip was only inevitable. Yet, it was this natural completion of the dangerous thought which led to disaster.

But why? How?

Orodan put the mug down and instead looked at one of the many other random cups strewn throughout this control room. Some of them even had still steaming drink within them, courtesy of the time stasis over the entire dwelling.

He thought of drinking from them…

…and felt nothing.

Yet when he turned to look at the anomalous mug and did the same, that erratic thought spawned in his mind before his natural willpower rendered it as harmless as any of the other things coursing through his head.

And yet, despite the thought being turned harmless…

…he chose to embrace it.

“Warning: anomaly # 8 dangerous. Time looper at risk of… at risk of…”

W78’s lights beeped erratically, as though his metallic friend was in disbelief at the sight of Orodan choosing to pour a nice mug of obsidian shards down his throat.

His teeth crunched the shards, and they tickled his mouth. Naturally, against the inhuman resilience of Orodan’s body, sharp obsidian grains were nothing. Furthermore, with no organs, the substance had nowhere to go so was dissolved quickly by the natural soul energy running through his body at all times at a low level.

Oddly enough, a decent flavor to it.

[Gourmand 36 → Gourmand 37]

A bit crunchy, although the numerous sharp edges on each grain added to the flavor and helped disperse it among his taste buds.

“This is rather good… can I borrow this?”

With a bit of work, the nicely flavored obsidian powder would make for a good spice.

Hells, Zukelmux and his mother would love to add it to their cooking!

Perhaps he could even train the mug to become stronger? Would that make the obsidian shards more flavorful?

Why did it seem like the mug was trembling? And why were W78’s lights blinking as though they were malfunctioning?

#

The rest of the training session had been quite informative, but Orodan had left without having acquired Memetic Hazard Mastery. He had to concede that he just wasn’t naturally talented at certain things and that this would take time. According to W78, Infinity was a natural memetic hazard itself whenever he decided to willfully expose anyone to it. But that didn’t mean he was any good at understanding memetics, self-completing thought patterns or how to structure a thought so that the natural perception of it would become infectious.

Orodan would need time and more loops before he could truly master the skill. Some time with the parlor tricksters and hypnotists, or with certain specialists of the Blackworth Collective who worked with illusions.

And given the subject of illusions… perhaps Ozgaric would be a good instructor?

In any case, these thoughts could wait. Especially when the vastly changed Ogdenborough lay before him.

His hovel really hadn’t changed; it was an older part of town and among the first neighbourhoods to be built when the town was being founded. His home and the surrounding few houses remained in their relatively worn down state simply because the gold investment to bring them up to par wasn’t worth it.

As a result, when Orodan had teleported right out of Ogdenborough at the start of the loop he hadn’t had the time to notice how things had changed. How the most of the town looked distinctly less poor and poverty-stricken than he ever remembered it being.

In particular as he walked towards Eversong Plaza through the north side of town, a neighborhood that should have been full of desperation and street rats. Instead the formerly dilapidated dwellings and abandoned storefronts were now lively and full of traffic and commerce. It was most surreal.

There were no street rats. Oh, there were orphans alright, but not one of them was out on the streets alone and trying to find something more to supplement what little the orphanage gave them. These orphans were accompanied by a happy-looking matron of the orphanage who was leading them on a day trip to see what things they might like or would need.

Toys, books, and even some very basic and cheap enchanted items were in the shopping basket the woman carried. The matron seemed to recognize him too, not just from his fame, but something on a more personal level. And Orodan had to do a double take as he realized that this was Uldrine. Far healthier and not nearly as bony as the overworked and poor matron he remembered from his timeline.

In his time, the woman had left and returned to the Cathedral in Trumbetton, glad to be away from the punitive duty that manning the orphanage was seen as.

“Miss Uldrine, look! Is that him? Is that Orodan? He looks so big!” one of the orphans clamored, looking far healthier and happier than any of them from his time had ever been.

Uldrine turned around, and her eyes widened as she noticed him too.

“Is that you… Orodan Wainwright?” her voice soft, questioning as she stepped away from the group of orphans, leaving them with another matron. “Oh my… it really is you, my dear boy. I could scarcely believe all the things people were saying, that you’re some time looper, that you’ve become some mighty King… but I see my eyes were not deceiving me. You really do match the likeness of all those posters of you they have up across town.”

Orodan for his part was more than a little confused, but then things really began to click together.

Of course things would now be different in Ogdenborough. He had changed the timeline itself to ensure that House Argon had never suffered to the extent that they had in the original timeline. Baron Viglas Argon’s parents and siblings were alive; House Argon had not suffered the injustice of being forgotten either. They had been rewarded and recognized for their risky defection from Novarria to the Republic.

Why would Baron Viglas or his house ever defect to the Novarrians? Why would Ogdenborough remain poor if there was no shady noble carefully curating what businesses and trade was allowed within? The people seemed happy and not struggling to survive day-to-day, and it seemed that had bled over to the orphanage as well. Uldrine, in a far nicer town, had never left her position as head matron.

A woman who previously had been thankless, surly and resentful of the fact that she had to look after the orphans was now happy, content and looking at Orodan as though he was a lost son.

“Dear boy? I don’t recall you ever calling me that before…” he muttered.

“Do you… you not remember?”

“Remember what?”

The woman’s face sunk, and Orodan had the distinct feeling as though he had just kicked a happy puppy. Uldrine looked genuinely hurt too, as though a dagger had pierced the chest.

“I see… it is true then. I wanted to think it a lie, to hope it was some mad rumor, but it seems the truth is as dark as I’d feared,” the head matron quietly said. “You time loopers are from a different time, aren’t you?”

“I am. As are all of us who have returned in time since I have changed things. I’m not the only one.”

“Then… you may be Orodan Wainwright, but you are not my Orodan. The boy I would read to, the one whose eyes would eagerly gleam whenever I read him the ballad of the pegasus knights,” she solemnly spoke and then looked him up and down closely. “Hmm… you’re a bit bigger than I remember.”

“I was working with Old Man Hannegan by the age of fourteen. Consistent labor and free work site lunches tend to help with that.”

“Rougher too… the Orodan I know would play fight with the others, but he does not look as… dangerous, as you do.”

Before the last loop, he might’ve opened his mouth and said something rather straightforward. But… he had learned from the Orodan Wainwright who had gently chosen not to reveal anything to his family from that alternate time.

He had learned, that sometimes not revealing it all could be a kindness.

“I have been in a fair few fights,” he answered truthfully while leaving out much.

Better to leave the details of his upbringing unsaid. If only so he could avoid hurting this woman when he had so obviously hurt enough and broken enough things already.

Uldrine frowned.

“I can tell when you are lying, Orodan Wainwright. It seems even being from another time has not erased your miserable proficiency at Deceit.”

Of course she would notice. This was the woman who would often catch him in his poor attempts to lie about what he was doing during his very early days at the orphanage. Some things never changed. And it seemed the Orodan of this altered timeline was as bad a liar as the real him.

“I did not lie. I simply did not speak the full truth,” he countered. “What good would it do you? To know what life was originally like for me growing up? Many things have changed in this time due to my alterations, what use is it to dwell on a time that no longer is?”

“Because, I want to know what made you into who you are today,” she softly asked. “And how the young man I knew became the hardened killer with far too much weight on his shoulders.”

So she knew even though he had said nothing?

Perhaps the Orodan of this time which he was now part of had not taken a life at all. Not unreasonable when the militia mainly dealt with local crime and kept public order while forays into the wilds were rarer. And the fact was that killing a wild monster with no sapient thought was a far cry from having to kill another person.

“I did not wish to darken your mind with such things, but since you have asked know that I was less than seven winters old when taking a life for the first time. House Argon was crooked, the result of a broken, grieving and vengeful man conspiring with foreign actors. And the orphanage was poor,” he revealed, showing no reaction as her eyes slightly widened. “I was an orphan, yes, but also a street rat. A necessity when our dwelling was underfunded and there simply wasn’t enough food to go around. And you had left the orphanage quite a while ago; hard to blame you for it when this place was seen as a punitive duty.”

Perhaps Uldrine truly had cared for children at one point. But that woman had been smothered by the harsh reality of running an underfunded shelter for the needy in a corrupt town in Orodan’s original timeline. But here? It brought a lightness to his heart to see the woman happy.

A lightness weighed down by the truth he had just spoken.

““I-I see… then this time looping business is not all bad now, is it? Especially if the old time was as bad as you say under my lady,” the woman shakily replied. “Though… I suppose I cannot openly state such things when the newly formed Cathedral of Life & Death has outlawed any praise of my la- Ilyatana. Not when they say you personally smote her. Is it… is any of that true?”

And there was the other dimension to Orodan’s vendetta against Ilyatana and his other two enemies within the Prime Five. Wicked as the divinity was, it could not be said that she was miserly or uncaring of her faithful. The orphanages whose overarching management now fell under Halor’s purview were originally built and crewed by faithful of the Goddess of Fate.

And given how much he had been breaking recently with his power… perhaps vengeance could hurt more than it could heal?

Orodan would not forgive, nor would he forget… but he wondered if his answer to his old grudges needed be so lethal every time?

“It… is. I slew Ilyatana in the divine realm many a time,” Orodan answered. Though he had not yet done so in this loop, mainly because she was a trifling thing who any of Alastaia’s Transcendents and perhaps even Zukelmux could slay in direct battle if they encountered her true form.

“You lie!”

Her response was immediate, venomous and full of denial.

“A mortal cannot slay a God! Not my lady Ilyatana! Not… not-”

“They can. And though this will come as no consolation to you, a death in honest battle is better than what the Eldritch can do to a divine,” Orodan said, sharply gesturing with his hand to stop his two shadowing Intelligence Service agents from apprehending the woman. “But I understand that I have caused you harm. My enmity is with your Goddess, but one cannot have conflict with a tree without also offending the birds which nest within it or the animals which shelter beneath it. This, I take responsibility for.”

And as usual, a crowd had gathered, and Orodan was beginning to grow quite weary of having fanatical supporters among the general populace. People, loopers and non-loopers even, who were swept along by the momentum of all he had done.

But the problem was…

…that he could err just as any human could. And that momentum could be directed the wrong way.

“Sir druid!” a man sharply called to a nearby priest of Halor. “We’ve caught an illegal worshiper of the wicked Goddess!”

“You dare put guilt upon the man who fights so hard for us?! He’s been training non-stop since the loop started!”

“Disgraceful! A worshiper of the wicked Goddess watching over children? Put her to the sword right now!”

“A duel! I’ll duel her in your stead Lord Wainwright, allow me the honor!” a militia man called out, drawing his weapon.

“We ought to put her on a black list, deny this she-devil any chance at ascending when the Second Pass comes!”

Orodan…

…was disgusted.

Partially by the behavior of the mob braying for blood, but also with himself. Had his vendettas echoed so far?

A simple stomp, one foot. And the crowd went silent as the air suddenly became tense.

“Enough. I am not some deity whose words and actions are to be obsessively followed. My hands are covered in blood, not all of it righteously spilled,” he sternly uttered. “This woman’s entire worldview was upended no more than a few days ago, her Goddess exiled from Alastaia and an entire new order imposed. You lot would condemn her for this? I see it in many of you here, your lives changed due to the disappearance of three of the Prime Five. The only difference being none of you are bold enough to voice it as she has.”

The priest of Halor who one of the crowd had called, stepped forward.

“But my lord… the Goddess of Fate is an old enemy of yours. She has done much ill, her personality, her very character is wicked!”

“And this woman who held faith in her while living a life of virtue and compassion has done no such ills, nor is her character wicked. Why do you and this mob eye her viciously?” Orodan asked. “Are you not a druid of the God of Life? What act of life is this?”

Perhaps the man might had counterarguments or further beliefs of his own, but they were unfairly difficult to get out when Orodan was leveling a baleful glare right at him. His temper had been roused enough that the glare was just short of activating Incipience of Infinity.

“Now, I have business to attend to. This woman is under my protection, that is all.”

His words were final. If anyone threatened her, he would answer them himself.

None in the crowd contested this, and the druid of Halor seemed more contemplative of his words than defiant.

Which left Orodan free to take his leave for his business. Business which would take place at the peak of the giant tower constructed atop Mount Castarian.

Ogdenborough, despite being a prosperous town in this timeline, wasn’t normally anywhere near as packed as it was now. The northern portion of the city was still relatively normal, but the nearer he got to Eversong Plaza the denser the crowds became, and it wasn’t difficult for people to notice a man his size. Not when flyers and banners bearing his likeness were flying about town.

Kalemar Cosanox was waiting near the start of the crowd perimeter alongside Demosthenos Albathrax and a group of heavily armored alliance infantry.

“Mister Wainwright! There you are!” the Vice-Director called out.

The shame in the man’s eyes was apparent as he did not want to directly meet Orodan’s, so he simply clapped a hand upon his liaison’s shoulder.

“No need to look so glum. You were right to leave,” Orodan spoke, addressing the source of the man’s shame. “The things in there weren’t exactly safe.”

For those besides himself that was.

“I still feel as though I let you down… to think simple fear could-”

“There was nothing simple about that fear. Not when it can travel through simple information and perception of it, or can steal the reins of your own thoughts without any mind magic or external tampering,” Orodan spoke.

He then turned to the soldiers.

“I can just Dimensional Step to the peak of that tower…”

“Forgive me, my lord, but His Majesty Balastion and the other faction leaders have agreed that having you be visible is for the best. Far too many people from across the worlds of our alliance have gathered here today. This spectacle is as much function as it is a morale piece,” Demosthenos explained apologetically.

The man was not wrong. The sight of half-dragons, metallic beings of the Unity, mage-lords of Thazrivin and people from the Collective all in Ogdenborough was an utterly novel sight. It spoke to the bizareness of the scene that the many goblins in the crowd were seen as a comforting and familiar presence by the locals.

The heavily armored escort, though entirely unnecessary, cleared him a path to Eversong Plaza where the base of the tower was. If anything, being escorted let him see clearer how he was being gawked at like some spectacle, and how so many people in the crowds had painful and desperate hope in their eyes.

They couldn’t be blamed for that, not given what he was about to do.

It was no teleporter, but a giant lift which took him to the peak of the tower. Symbolic, very visible and entirely too gaudy for his tastes. He had been in battles in the void outside of worlds before, but seeing so many people slowly grow smaller as their reverential gazes upon him never broke was an odd sight. An uncomfortable one.

The lift brought him up top, and he noticed an extensive seating arrangement containing thousands. All of them loopers.

“Orodan Wainwright. You have come.”

Malzim’s words echoed, soft but filled with divine power. Yet even that power seemed almost subservient now.

“I have. Is this… list ready?”

The echoing boom of a loud horn tore through the air. It was no clarinet or trumpet, but a true explosion of noise meant to mark an event of cosmic significance. He was fairly certain the sound echoed out to the stars and beyond too.

Following this, an entire procession of chronomancers and soul mages came out, priests of Malzim, the Guzuharan death divine and even the Collective’s two death divinities accompanying, and at the center of said procession were all the death Gods of the alliance, carrying a gigantic parchment between them as they somberly walked up.

It was almost ceremonial, and Orodan found himself uncomfortable as he stood at the center of what was quickly becoming some sort of pseudo-religious ceremony.

For too long he had been cursed with the burden of being the only one who remembered. But now, with so many people as part of the loops, brought in by his hand… he had to accept that they would ascribe significance to things which he saw as routine.

If this was what everyone needed to see, then so be it.

Each death divinity bore the portion of the absurdly long parchment which corresponded to their faction and area of faith.

“How many?”

“Just under eighty-nine-thousand.”

Malzim’s reply was soft, yet filled with gravity. Orodan felt the ceremonial weight of each reply and the expectant gazes to be excessive. He had resurrected millions before, from five-hundred thousand years ago by pulling Vylrystia back! Why did less than a hundred-thousand matter?

The answer… lay in the audience, all of whom were loopers Orodan had brought in.

Their gazes were hopeful, expectant… revering.

The names on that list had been carefully gathered from each looper who had loved ones, friends, family or comrades who had fallen too early. Taken too soon. Wounds which had never truly healed by virtue of their tragic and untimely nature. Each name had been personally signed by the person to whom said deceased was important.

In fact, at the very top of the list, he could see an elven name. He had an inkling as to who the signatory was, as his eyes flitted to meet those of Vespidia.

Good.

This was the right move then. Orodan had always known it, never one to shirk the responsibility of righting a wrong, but this only confirmed it.

Vespidia was now willing to live in this new world. And the name of the elven reincarnator’s deceased wife at the top of the list was the glaring sign of that.

There were more too.

He looked at Adeltaj, who was off to the side as one of the ceremonial guards for this spectacle.

“When?”

“Long ago… having to outlive one’s wife is never easy. Worse still when it is your own daughter,” the old halberdier quietly replied. “Taken from me through violence, even if the line continued via my grandchild and House Simarji went on.”

“Balastion?” Orodan asked.

“My elder brother… he died so that I might succeed and found Novarria.”

And it shouldn’t have surprised him at all… but of all the hopeful faces, the most desperate of them all was the young boy who had become a God far too soon in his life.

“Ozgaric…? Loss does not spare even the protector God of the north it seems…”

“I had a mother and father once. Chaotic as it may be for my followers to witness… I would dearly like them back.”

And a small part of Orodan truly wished he could have his own back too. But not yet. Not when the Custodian and Boundless One itself had ways of knowing when that was tampered with. Not when he had so much left to do before he could allow himself such a thing.

Only once everyone else’s dream was realized could the pillar itself be allowed to indulge.

All around in the audience were beings from across the alliance. Half-dragons, goblins, Blackworth captains, mage-lords and even some metallic beings of the Unity. Those in the audience had people they wanted brought back.

These weren’t just forty or fifty-year-old middling folk… the youngest present here had lived for centuries at minimum. The tragedies suffered by these people were ancient, far beyond just a simple year back in time. Untimely demises of those they cared for which Orodan’s small alterations to certain parts of the timeline hadn’t effected.

And they were, all of them, gathered today with hopeful looks upon their faces. Perhaps they were waiting for him to say something?

“I am not some divine figure.”

His first words, softly spoken, yet carried through the air like a hurricane.

Many of the people spectating looked as though they disagreed. It was apparent too in how some looked at the deities present and then looked back at him, the elevation of him on a pedestal above even these divines being apparent in their eyes.

The eyes of some others softened, as though previously apprehensive of what his character might have been like.

“I will not act the watchman over anyone’s thoughts… but know that you may be thoroughly disillusioned when you learn that I am more bloody-handed warrior than benevolent hero. All of this, this ceremony, this ritual significance… it is unnecessary.”

“And yet, Orodan, your actions affect more than just yourself,” Almyra spoke from the side. “This has less to do with you than you think. Will you not allow people their rituals and significance that they might come to terms with their new situation easier?”

That… made sense.

Perhaps he was just the central figurehead all of these newly inducted time loopers were basing their radically shifted worldview around. Even for Grandmasters and Transcendents, a sudden induction into a time loop would be jarring. It challenged their entire worldview and was new and uncomfortable territory.

So who was he to deny them their rituals, ceremonies and moments of significance to ease their own transition? For Orodan, this was just another resurrection. But for them? It was the first of many loops moving forward where their lost loved ones and comrades would be reunited with them.

The department of looper affairs must have arranged things this way for a reason. It wasn’t just the resurrection itself, but the promise, that these time loops would be okay. That Orodan would look after them and they were safe under the shade of his strength.

And it was time to show them that. For he had kept the spectating hopefuls waiting long enough.

His focus was upon the gigantic list in front of him. And the absolute swarm of people surrounding him on all sides while he was at the center of a raised tower.

He began to glow white, a faint thing as the labor wasn’t nearly as intensive as his grandest feats of Time Reversal. But the gasps and reverential mutters of awe erupted all the same.

It was ridiculous to see Grandmasters and Transcendents act as though they were Initiates and Apprentices seeing something flashy for the first time, but he had to remind himself that he was the lynchpin of this. The driving force of an event which meant so very much to them personally.

And as his eyes glowed and the tower lit up with the luminosity of his blazing soul…

…he threw it towards Time Mastery and Time Reversal. Diving right into the river of this newly altered timeline.

“My lord! Please do not worry about bringing any of the resurrected here! We have teams waiting to retrieve them and arrangements for every single one!” a Grandmaster chronomancer of Thazrivin who was part of the resurrection crew called out.

A well-organized operation. Not that it made much difference at the scale of power he operated at, but it did make an already easy task even easier.

The organization showed too in that each name had been personally written by the signatory who had been closely tied to the deceased. This allowed Orodan to trace the threads of time on the ink to said individual, and from there… to the deceased.

Who began coming back.

Vespidia was the first to gasp and suddenly clutch an unassuming bracelet around her wrist which turned from gray to silver-leafy green like the forests of Eldiron. Orodan smiled as she immediately ran through the teleporter set up for spectators to leave through.

And he continued.

Balastion and Adeltaj were the next two to leave as they received communication pulses from distant sources. The old halberdier had tears in his eyes as he gave Orodan a long look before bolting. And the first emperor simply looked as though an extreme weight had come off his shoulders and his soul lightened. Balastion gave Orodan a nod, eyes filled with gratitude, before departing.

More were returned.

Ozgaric suddenly winked into non-existence, a perk of the God’s new form. Indicating that the northern God had sensed the return of his family from back in his mortal days. And shockingly, Malzim too suddenly departed as Orodan brought a woman back from seventy-thousand years in Alastaia’s past.

More were pulled back by his power, as half-dragons and mage-lords began leaving in droves, almost fighting for the teleporter or simply using their own means of travel to depart as swiftly as possible.

However it was when he had to start looking into the river of time for the Unity and the Collective that Orodan ran into the unexpected difficulty of this seemingly simple task.

Distance.

The Blackworth Collective was in another galaxy, the Unity was many star systems away. To access the fallen souls in their river of time while upon Alastaia… it was difficult. Not for the chronomancy part, but for his actual vision of the river.

Yes, he could simply stop, physically travel there and then get those, but that would cause the faces of those hopefuls who wanted their loved ones back to falter, even if it would be momentarily. And Orodan didn’t want to see that.

And because this would be good training.

Alstatyn who was nearby seemed to recognize the mad thought process in his eyes and had a frown on his face as he was ready to intervene, only for Almyra to hold the King of the Collective back.

Orodan took a deep and entirely unnecessary breath…

…and then threw Infinity and Violence into his sight.

His eyes bled, and his cells died. Infinity wanted to overwhelm him, but Violence, or rather him, simply brutalized the concept into behaving. He had never pushed this much into just his actual sight before, but it came with benefits.

[Vision of Purity 99 → Vision of Purity 100]

Orodan’s vision was grand and all-encompassing as he looked at the timeline for not just Alastaia, Vylrystia and Thazrivin… but the Collective and Unity too. A star system and an entire galaxy away.

When not interacting with the time loop mechanism which had an easy tether to everywhere that he had taken for granted, expanding his sight across truly vast distances was incredibly difficult.

But his Grandmastery in Vision of Purity allowed it. A critical skill which he knew he would have to train into Transcendence if he intended to enact his grand ambition.

With the newly pushed boundaries, even as his cells were suffering from the sheer strain of it, he looked through the river of time for these extremely distant worlds…

…and pulled back the deceased from the list.

Alstatyn who was more concerned for Orodan than about the spectacle, stumbled as Almyra suddenly vanished. The King too, then reluctantly left after shooting him a grateful look.

Soldiers, captains and Transcendents of the Blackworth Collective began leaving in droves as their fallen were brought back from across the vast gap of time, and finally, the Unity’s machine beings began leaving too.

Unlike his other resurrections, this spectacle was more distant and impersonal if only because he didn’t get to meet the people he brought back. The resurrections continued, one after another as Orodan plucked each one back, yanking them along the river of time and to their last known safe position, trusting in the alliance’s logistics and crews to handle recovering them physically.

Each person whispered thanks, or even a prayer as they swiftly departed to meet their returned friends and family. Worst of all… some of those prayers were directed towards him. Something he would have liked to protest on the spot, but was a bit too preoccupied to do.

At last, the list began to grow smaller and smaller. The divinities had all left now too, each of them having had people or beings of their own who they cared for. Only the soul mage and chronomancer crew helping direct things remained.

Alongside one person in the audience, and a final name on the list.

“Lord Wainwright… this final name… the signatory has stated that they will not mind if you are unable,” the leading chronomancer spoke before giving him a respectful bow and departing alongside the rest of his crew.

“I’m not a lord…” he grumbled. Since when had everyone defaulted to calling him that? He couldn’t even correct them constantly either when so many were doing it and it would waste time.

“Information: anomaly is designated bearer of world crown for planet - Alastaia. Correction: subject correct designation - your majesty.”

“You…!” Orodan exclaimed and then stopped himself. Perhaps ‘my lord’ didn’t sound quite so bad after all. He looked closely at W78. “You want to see it tried, don’t you?”

“Proto-unit will not experience organic sensation of dissatisfaction. This unit accepts reality.”

But his friend should not have had to. And yet W78 had.

Now the question remained as to whether Orodan could reverse that state of affairs. Not for someone deceased upon Alastaia, or Vylrystia or even the Collective…

…but for an entire extinct race outside of System space altogether.

By all accounts this should have been impossible, yet Orodan did not want to leave without at least scouting out the terrain of the endeavor.

“W78… you may want to step back or shield yourself… in fact I don’t know if even the tower can take the amount of energy I’m about to emanate.”

“Proto-unit has made preparations,” W78 intoned as it brought out multiple shielding devices, not just for itself but the entire tower structure. “Planetary grade barrier pylon deploying.”

The shield which crackled out and formed all around the tower from that odd device was sturdy too. It truly could survive at least enough energy to destroy a star system. Still nowhere near what was needed to weather Orodan’s full power, but perhaps his full power wouldn’t be needed for a mere scouting task.

Orodan’s cells began dying in droves once more and at a far greater pace too as he threw colossal amounts of power into Vision of Purity and his chronomancy. His sight into the river of time extended all the way towards the very boundaries of System space, and then…

…it abruptly stopped.

Immediately, he saw the real problem which W78 had warned him about.

The river of time of System space was not connected to the timeline of the greater universe. It was as though there was no river of time outside at all.

But there had to be something… it couldn’t just be hopeless!

Even as his cells died and the power he emitted was beginning to seriously strain the shields W78 had put up, he pondered and sought an answer.

What was time? It had to be more than just some strange and metaphysical river into which someone could peer and convenient drag things backwards in.

The Prophet had mentioned that it wasn’t bound by the non-existence of a tapestry of fate when facing foreign champions from outside System space. Then… why should time face any such limitation either?

It wasn’t some alien dimension out there. Orodan had gone out once, he had fought, killed and died and then returned.

Events still occurred. One thing led to another. If he punched something, the cause, his fist, led to the effect, its death. The wicked Boundless One outside still moved. W78’s creator race had all been slaughtered by something predatory. And System space itself had been created at one point, hadn’t it?

With that understanding in mind, he threw his all, as much power as he could without breaking the shields, into Vision of Purity.

[Vision of Purity 100 → Vision of Purity 101]

And he saw.

Not a river of time. But a chain of events. One causing another, one leading back to the other.

He followed the chain of causality from W78’s wound, and from there, beyond the bounds of System space, he saw a scene most horrid.

Of eternal and endless agony, of souls caught in the web of something truly cruel and capricious.

And in turn…

…something saw him.

And it smiled.

Time was frozen and it gazed into him. Information patterns of horrible power began attempting to automatically complete within his mind, as though something was seeking purchase. As though it had found prey to leap towards, the door open for it to enter now that he’d seen.

It was an unnaturally pale being whose uncanny smile looked as though a mask was stretched over a head too tight. It was eerie, and the human part of Orodan quivered as though under the gaze of something old, hungry and cruel for cruelty’s sake alone.

And then…

…its smile turned upside down, and for the smallest instant of time… it quivered.

Its gaze landing upon his eyes, where it saw Infinity and the gleeful desire to engage in mad battle.

It shrieked, time and causality trembled, and Orodan was forced to finally abandon his sight outside of System space just in time for W78’s shield around the tower to break and the tower itself to utterly shatter.

Orodan managed to revert the tower to pristine condition just before it wreaked horrid destruction upon Ogdenborough below.

“Subject… anomaly # 9 has… seen anomaly # 3?” W78 asked.

“Aye, and it saw me too…

…I look forward to meeting it.”

#

“Everyone’s saying you bled for them…”

“I always bleed when channeling a lot of power, Aliya.”

“They said you became a God…”

“You can beat a weaker divine in combat now, Zukelmux.”

“My mother started praying to you, Orodan!”

“Damn it, Edrosic! I didn’t want that either!”

Wainroach wiggled her antennae at him as though laughing.

“No, I did not break the tower just because I thought it was gaudy.”

Frankly, it had been a spur of the moment try from both him and W78 which they’d been lucky hadn’t resulted in worse. After all, while Orodan was more than happy to face that thing in honest battle, he wasn’t sure how well Alastaia and everyone else in the surrounding star systems would fare if the fight started in Ogdenborough with no defensive preparations to avoid collateral.

Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

It also confirmed that since the billions of years since the System’s inception, while W78 was a Transcendent, that thing had grown. And it had grown very powerful.

W78 had not been happy to learn of the fate of its creator race, but Orodan simply vowed that he would deal with it when the time came. Though how a fight between him and that thing would go was up in the air. A simple look from a great distance between the two of them didn’t tell him too much about its battle power.

Still, it couldn’t have been stronger than the Administrators if it hadn’t breached System space yet. Talasgan, the Warrior, likely remained Orodan’s strongest non-Boundless opponent yet.

And the gains he’d made in this loop, while good, yet remained insufficient to tackle the power gap between him and the System’s mightiest Administrator.

What really had his mood soured however…

…was the fact that W78 hadn’t allowed him to take the mug home. Something about the anomaly’s parameters being permanently altered until the next loop due to him. Though, at least the proto-unit had conditionally agreed to allow him to train with it, under strict guidelines and supervision.

Still, things were proceeding at a good pace with his training, even if he hadn’t acquired Memetic Hazard Mastery. The alliance’s progress continued independent of his own gains. And a critical milestone had been reached since Fenton had finally completed his work.

They were within the grand hall of Vylrystia’s citadel, a space now regularly used as the convention point for the alliance. The half-dragon guards above looked far more used to the presence of all these foreign allies now than they had at the start of the loop. And Fenton had a satisfied look on his face, am orb in hand.

It was the most well-crafted thing Orodan had seen in a long time. Perhaps just a step below the ancient machine.

“Alright ser, here it is. Now you’ll get to hear every bleedin’ non-looper whine even more than they already do,” the enchanting prodigy spoke, tossing him a slightly larger orb which would still fit in his soul space, but one which qualitatively looked superior in every way. “Got tired of them badgerin’ me the entire time. Five-thousand slots, primed and ready.”

“Five thousand? I was under the impression that it would be a one-thousand slot orb.”

Fenton beamed a bit, the lad’s pride showing.

“You’re not the only one who can impress from time to time, Mister Orodan,” he replied with a toothy grin and then ducked away grumpily as Orodan gave his head a ruffle.

“This is some exquisite work, Fenton. Who helped?”

“Zukelmux’s tribe chief did, Mister Griok. That old codger’s a real hand with polishin’ gems and crystals he is. Never seen anythin’ like it in all me life. Hard to even talk to the old goblin when he’s got a line out the town full of people tryin’ to buy his services.”

“From what the elder told me, he specifically commissioned the purest and most mana-saturated stone he could find from across the worlds of the alliance,” Zukelmux added. “That orb in your hands comes from the World Core of Thazrivin, teacher. A treasure worth more than a kingdom, bolstered by the alliance’s greatest Jewelcrafter and then finished by our very own enchanting prodigy. Young Fenton has surpassed all expectations, though I shall say the number of slots is more accurately four-thousand nine-hundred and ninety-nine.”

“An oddly particular number,” Orodan spoke, looking closer and noticing that one of the banks was indeed filled. “It couldn’t be you, Fenton. Nor any of you. You all are part of the loops already, so who could-”

“N-nothin’ and nobody at all ser!” the boy suddenly jumped, snatching the orb back with vigor. “You don’t need to look too closely at it. I-in fact I might need to tinker on it some more ‘fore I hand it over!”

Orodan was confused; even more when he saw Zukelmux sighing with a fond smile and Edrosic laughing loudly.

“You’re the one who made it Fenton. Nobody has more right than you to decide who gets a slot,” Orodan clarified. The alliance could hem and haw, but he would not see his disciple’s work co-opted without the go-ahead of the crafter himself. “Though, I suppose Griok and the High-Orast should also get priority given their contributions to its making.”

Fenton, now a little less red—which still confused Orodan as to why that might be—nodded in agreement.

“Right! Mister Griok just wants certain important non-looping members of the Rising Spear in on the orb. About eleven if I recall. And the High-Orast wanted two-hundred spots reserved for skilled non-looping personnel and mages,” Fenton explained. “Not all that much if you think about it. A thousand are bein’ withheld and the others are goin’ to everyone else who’s got somethin’ useful to contribute.”

Which still left billions upon billions of people across all the worlds who would not be getting a spot on the orb anytime soon. How badly would they fight for one? What things would they offer in exchange? Orodan did not know, but the limited availability of such a thing would surely cause problems of its own.

This loop he’d primarily spent his time upon Alastaia, and to a lesser extent Vylrystia. He hadn’t gotten to see how the widespread news that tens of thousands of people were in a time loop was being received on all the worlds of Lonvoron or upon Thazrivin. He had confidence in the department of looper affairs’ ability to handle issues, but a potential problem was still a potential problem.

And speaking of said department, a most surly-looking halfling entered the grand hall of Vylrystia’s citadel, a book in his hands as he refused to look up at all.

“You’ve looked better.”

The halfling replied with a grumbly grunt before speaking.

“His Majesty Balastion has seen fit to grant me a manor in the countryside.”

“Which… should be a good thing, yes?” Orodan asked.

“It would be… if it wasn’t a constant reminder of my desire to retire in a manor and do nothing but read books all day. A desire-” Tegin snapped the book shut and glared at him. “-which I shall not be fulfilling anytime soon.”

To that, Orodan could say nothing besides adding a nod of sympathy. The poor halfling truly had been conscripted from leading an important city of the Republic to now being organizer for a department which oversaw tens of thousands of loopers. Though, grumpy as the halfling General looked, it was not a surliness born of dissatisfaction.

“My apologies then. I hope you’ve formed a book club at least.”

“I have in fact. One nice thing about all this is the existence of thousands who share my fondness for introspective and at times, indulgent literature,” Tegin replied. “I overheard your conversation as I came in. The orb is ready then, Mister Penny?”

“Right you are ser, just needs a bit more tinkerin’, but it’s got close to five thousand spots ready to go,” Fenton repeated, then frowned. “But I could do without the badgerin’ from everyone wantin’ in.”

“Forgive me. It has been a trying time for I and the department as well. We shall have to step up your detail if they got through despite our screening,” Tegin said. “I have had to make several public examples via enchanted stocks and in two cases, execution. Spots on the orb are not for sale, nor can they be traded through bribery, politics and the like.”

“Execution? That sounds serious…” Orodan muttered.

“An unfortunate necessity when a non-looping mage-lord attempted to blackmail the High-Orast for a spot on the orb. Ruthless, but such things cannot be ignored if we are to have stability and fairness in our usage of this powerful artifact. The last thing the non-looping common folk need to see is that we can be forced to cave under political pressure and give slots through backroom deals. The effect on morale would be worse for those in the loops too when they see some undeserving politician get a slot on the orb when their non-looping loved ones do not,” Tegin explained. “As it stands, I have declared any attempt to influence decisions on the orb through blackmail or force, illegal. Punishable by capital punishment for non-loopers, and a period of torture by mind and soul mages for loopers. Aside from the privilege granted to Mister Penny, Chief Griok and the High-Orast who made the orb possible at all, each and every individual upon it is carefully reviewed and a reading of their Status and resume made entirely public so that there are no questions of why they were included. Thus far, I have yet to see anyone more qualified show their face and demonstrably prove they deserve a slot more than an existing holder.”

That sounded quite fair. The punishments would seem harsh to some, but Orodan had grown up seeing the House Argon guards of his time openly kill thieves on the spot. Given all he’d been through in the loops, it was a distant memory for him, but to him harsh justice was the standard he was used to.

Though, if any crime needed lethal and painful deterrent for the sake of stability among loopers, it would be anything involving the orb. Wise of Tegin and his department to think of these things early.

“Hmm, speaking of punishment… perhaps our approach to dealing with certain… divinities can be looked at further?”

Tegin frowned a moment before the halfling’s eyes narrowed with understanding.

“You wish for them to be killed, Mister Wainwright? Say the word and it shall be done, but the tyrant three have remained in the divine dimension and their followers been stripped of Blessings not long after the loops started thanks to you.”

“No, I do not wish them killed. The opposite in fact,” Orodan spoke, and with some difficulty too as it involved him swallowing a bitter grudge he’d held for so long. “From next loop… perhaps a word with them before we act might be best.”

“That is… surprising to hear from you. In truth, the department had considered such a thing but then immediately discarded it upon consultation with the chroniclers. Their misdeeds towards you run deep and we had not wanted to broach the topic at all, but…”

“They have followers aplenty who have done no wrong, I know. I see that now, and I realize that not every problem need be approached with sword and shield.”

Tegin’s eyebrows raised in surprise, and then he sighed and grumbled yet again.

“Ugh… Lord Eldarion will be exceptionally smug about this. I owe him a few rare books now,” Tegin grumbled. “Thank you for losing me a bet, Mister Wainwright. The lord of Aldenil had high hopes that you would suggest such a thing in less than twenty loops. Might I ask what inspired the change of heart? You have always hated the tyrant three among the Prime Five. The chroniclers note this quite fastidiously. What changed?”

“I will not bandy some silly tripe about how anyone can change and that everyone deserves a second chance. I have no obligation to care about their potential changes of character nor them. I hate those three, and that will not change,” Orodan declared. “But those people who relied on them, who held faith in them… perhaps they deserve to have their Gods returned to them.”

“And if they betray you yet again?”

Orodan smiled.

“Strength solves all problems,” he spoke.

Not only could Zukelmux likely kill someone like Ilyatana, but if his disciple couldn’t, then Ozgaric certainly could. In fact, the northern God could slay all three himself now if he so needed to. There was no need to fear snakes in the grass when one’s feet were made of steel. Under the shade of the alliance’s strength—and if needed, Orodan’s own—perhaps the wicked three could be given a chance to act rightly. Not because he cared about them in the slightest, but for the sake of those who righteously followed them and did good in their names.

“Now, what’s this about chroniclers?”

The grand hall was still somewhat empty, and Orodan and his disciples had arrived somewhat earlier than most. Still, there were agents of the Intelligence Service, guards, military figures and siege engineers, and some Blackworth captains in the hall early too. And there were also some people taking extensive notes.

Orodan had seen them before. One of them was often among the crew arrayed whenever he had his training sessions where the alliance’s combined resources funneled towards him. Another, Kalemar would periodically pass a copy of his notes to whenever they met.

Edrosic’s palm met his face and the artist groaned.

“Don’t worry about it, Orodan. The less you hear about that, the more your sanity will remain preserved.”

“It’s hardly as nefarious as Mister Edrosic makes it sound. They are simply the chroniclers and record-keepers of your journey so far, alongside all your skill level gains, decisions and stated views,” Tegin said with an all-too-happy smile. “They watch you at every moment they can, gather eyewitness accounts, testimony and keep all records of you safe within their minds.”

“…what?”

“Oh look! The chief record-keeper and his assistants are coming this way. A good opportunity to be introduced! Lord Halledin, please come right this way that we might finally introduce you to the man himself.”

Orodan was still too shocked by the fact that an entire department was devoted to tracking his every action and recording it closely. Tegin dragged him along before the record-keeping men and women, and the first thing he noticed was how their eyes widened.

One even shamelessly flared her nose, as though attempting to smell him closely at conversational distance.

“To finally meet the time looper himself. My lord, I am Halledin Alvatel, my family name is associated with warriors and a Quest-bearing hero, but is primarily a long line of storied lore-masters and archivists who have maintained the written and oral lineage of the East since time immemorial. Please allow me to humbly profess that I am ever your most devoted record-keeper and witness. This meeting shall be written of with particular honor,” the man professed.

While Orodan normally didn’t like the reverence people spoke to him with, this old man had a level of professionalism to him as well. As though he wasn’t just some fanatical devotee, but also a record-keeper ready to write about both good and ill in equal measure. Though how much of that was made publicly available would likely depend on Tegin and the alliance leaders.

The man had a certain warrior-like bearing too. Master-level, as per Orodan’s instincts.

“I was not aware I had an entire chronicling team working to document everything. The stance and hands tell me you can fight too, are you a looper as well then?”

“Yes, my lord. House Alvatel of the East has ever been a line of warrior-scholars. It was my honor to personally fight in and witness the liberation of Lonvoron in your last loop before we all awoke in this one, anointed by your hand as part of the sacred cycle itself.”

“Sacred cycle? It’s just a time loop… though I admit even I don’t know who the hells made that mechanism it relies upon.”

“Forgive me, my lord. Not only do the chronicles state it, but I have personally witnessed your humility. Of course you would downplay the significance… truly we could all learn from you,” the man spoke, laying it on a little thick and veering into the territory which made him uncomfortable. “This humble record-keeper would not dare to influence your thoughts or actions… but I shall simply say that more people than you know consider the time loops to be a very sacred and significant thing. Especially since your enacting of the First Great Raising yesterday.”

The First Great Raising? Did he mean the resurrections?

Tegin’s face was red, as though the halfling was struggling to hold back a laugh. This diminutive troublemaker was having entirely too much fun at Orodan’s expense.

“Lord Wainwright!” one of the assistant record-keepers spoke up, holding a book labelled ‘Bets and Odds’. “Would you care to comment on your confidence in acquiring another Celestial skill in this loop?”

And before he could even respond, the master record-keeper slapped the man upside the head to silence him.

Of course, another assistant spoke up, this one from the Collective by the looks of it and a more bookish sort with a monocle on his eye.

“Lord Wainwright. Could you tell us your honest thoughts on Agathor’s battle power and how much trouble he’s posed you throughout the loops?”

“How much trouble? Well, he did mentally subsume my mentor and then try to possess-”

“Apologies, my lord. I mean, when measured against those who actually caused you trouble as your loops progressed, how would you rank him? Such as against the Eldritch Avatar, or the Devil King who came by after the acquisition of your Celestial skill in the loop right after the Novarria cycle?”

Now that Orodan thought about it… hadn’t Agathor been a little… underwhelming? Perhaps it was his natural grudge against the God of War coloring his thoughts, but for a war God the deity hadn’t done anything overly impressive. Nor had he even forced Orodan to loop too many times.

And then the scum had even fled and doomed the Hasmathorian Empire and the ancient civilizations of Inuan to their end when stepping past the first gate.

“Hmm… I suppose if I look at it in the grand scheme of things, he wasn’t so bad. I can’t say I recall him doing anything particularly impressive besides wrestling time once. Though he did fight me upon Narictus and-”

“See! I told you! That Gods-forsaken craven is a fake! An imposter! A… a fraud!” another record-keeping assistant piped up, cutting him off.

Orodan recognized him too, from the Inter-Academy tournament.

“Oratius Mendax! You cannot simply declare one of Lord Wainwright’s sworn adversaries a fraud!” the master chronicler scolded. “Forgive me, my lord. He is not anointed to the cycle, yet we keep him around for his ability to word things… creatively, in our narrative.”

“But sir!” the monocle-wearing assistant clamored. “Even Lord Wainwright himself has now concurred that the wicked Agathor is naught but a pitiful plebeian, a bum of the streets garbed in dregs who goes around bullying those weaker than he! Should this not be added to the chronicles of his saga?”

“As I thought…! This changes all the betting odds!” the bet-master assistant exclaimed, furiously scribbling notes down.

Zukelmux, who had had quite enough of this spectacle, stepped in and strongarmed the group of record-keepers away. And while Orodan wasn’t normally the sort to avoid things, for once he found himself grateful.

Fraud? Betting odds? What in the seven hells?

The last thing a zealous assistant clamored about before Zukelmux deposited them all on the entire other side of the hall was whether he thought he could beat the Reject now. And Mendax loudly declared that it would be an easy victory while the monocle-wearing assistant began furiously debating about the scale and making odd arguments about limits and fallacies.

Orodan put those odd folk out of his mind.

“You enjoyed every second of that, didn’t you?” he asked, and Tegin gave him an innocent but joyful smile in response.

Still, his grumbling came to an end as more people filed in.

The various leaders of the alliance, the Transcendents, Alagameth and Almyra, and finally the half-dragon who never failed to make his non-existent heart act in funny ways.

She met his eyes and gave him a light smile which had him feeling as though the sun itself had warmed his being.

More filed in. Military captains of the Blackworth, commanders of Alastaia and Vylrystia, mage-lords of Thazrivin and combat units of the Unity. But critically, was an alliance corps of light mages, and following that, an important tactical asset who was no longer in the shape of a True Vampire.

“You are proof that the recipient’s mentality matters just as much as my own when I’m using the Domain of Perfect Cleaning,” Orodan spoke up, looking at Aherozam’s new human form which was tall and slender. More so than any man he’d seen. Perhaps a moon-elf and human hybrid? “The new form treats you well I hope?”

“It does, my lord,” the cleansed human said while giving him a deep bow. “The chains of the blood-hunger no longer bind me. I am my own being now. And I stand ready to aid your alliance however I can.”

“Good, then I suppose we should begin since we have everyone gathered here,” Tegin spoke, though Orodan wondered why the halfling was starting when the leader of Novarria wasn’t present. Where was the man for that matter? “My lords, ladies, majesties and other beings of power, the preparations are complete and in approximately four hours we shall be assaulting Narictus from here. Our alliance’s engineers, with the help of Mister Penny and the Collective’s brilliant Lord Anderthorn, have finished attuning the grand array in such a way that we can make landfall upon the enemy world in an instant.”

The halfling then gestured towards Orodan’s arm, where the world crown of Alastaia glowed.

“We and our sister shall prevent the world of the three moons from calling upon its own core power. But be warned… Narictus is far larger than we and Vylrystia combined. The window of opportunity for this… shall be limited,” the world-will of Alastaia spoke, adding its support.

“A powerful tactical advantage,” Zaessythra added. “Without a connection to their world core, the enemy command will be left vulnerable to many things. A chink in their armor which allows us to exploit the vampires’ prime weakness… light.”

“To all gathered, if you have not seen them before, allow me to introduce Lord Silestor Lumenarin of Alastaia and mage-lord Ilera Dawnsight of Thazrivin. The two heads of our alliance’s arrayed corps of light mages,” Tegin announced. “From what our recently converted friend tells us, the world core of Narictus is used to oppressively shield all the blood lords from hostile light magic.”

“It is not a tool the Lord of Night can utilize on foreign soil, but under the eternal night of the three moons none may invade Narictus easily,” Aherozam spoke, and then the former vampire looked between Orodan, Almyra, Alagameth and Zaessythra. “But… if I may be so bold… with power such as yours… Narictus should be no hindrance at all.”

“You speak true, honored friend,” Zaessythra replied. “However this meeting of strategy is not for us, but the alliance’s armies. Neither of the four of us shall be participating in any combat save ensuring no higher powers intervene.”

There were no shocked mutters, no gasps, nor any protests. It was something that had been discussed and the alliance had known about for a while.

The entire reason Orodan had brought all these people into the time loops was so that they could gain the strength to stand upon their own two feet and seize the reins of their own destiny. This invasion of Narictus was but the first step in doing so proactively.

Sure, he and the other two Embodiers—and Zaessythra who sat in a strange place power-wise—could destroy the Hegemony and probably every faction of their galaxy with ease if they so chose. But that wasn’t the point.

Honing the alliance’s might from the ground up was. This would be a test of Alastaian, Vylrystian, Thazrivinian, Unity and Collective strength, techniques and technology against that of Narictus’s. It was as much a field test as it was a battle.

And only in honing the abilities of the alliance’s lower tier could the higher tiers truly ascend. After all, a stronger alliance meant more resources, techniques and newly pioneered skills to throw towards the four strongest beings in it. Furthermore, though Narictus was trivial for him, given that he’d erased hundreds of star systems before, it wasn’t so casual for the alliance’s army of Transcendents, Grandmasters and below. This would be a true test of their development.

This was the very first loop where everyone had been brought into the time loops. Many of these tens of thousands of warriors, soldiers and mages were still reeling from the reality that Orodan had pulled them into the time loops as well. Yet now, he was expecting them to take the reins of their own development and launch a world invasion of a land of vampires, werewolves, haunted spirits and necromancers.

Orodan, who had for so long trained in the loops through mad methods… could only see this as good training.

In fact, by the look of it, most of those present in this grand hall were looking forward to it, a quiet pride and the desire to prove themselves apparent on their faces. Death was no hindrance for them now. And even if they died in this loop, Orodan was the lynchpin of the time loops and only his death would cause an actual reset. Which meant that these members of the alliance could die and then be resurrected by the Alastaian chronomancy and soul mage corps all in the midst of this loop to then resume combat.

Most importantly, such a harsh invasion of a world would temper them more than the liberation of Lonvoron from the Eldritch had. It would give almost all of them skill levels, new insights and perhaps even new skills of higher-rarities. Who knew how many hidden talents from among the army would arise as a result? Who knew what spoils and secret techniques of the vampires they would loot and use to better their own advancement?

This was a world invasion, yes, but the unique context of them all being part of the time loops meant that this was really a critical opportunity for growth. This invasion would be repeated again in the next loop, and the one after, until Narictus itself was scoured clean of secrets, techniques, artifacts and critical assets.

And the department of looper affairs which oversaw all time loopers, within the context of the loops, had the opportunity to retry this invasion over and over until the invasion went perfectly. Orodan had run loops over and over until he got things right, but now something even he hadn’t seen would have the chance to occur.

It would be the first time an organization had the opportunity to repeatedly hone itself over and over on the same situation until it got things right.

“I have also taken the liberty of notifying certain juniors of mine within the Conclave that a significant battle will occur near Narictus,” Alagameth, the spatial spider Embodier spoke up. “We of the light do not take kindly to the Hegemony’s lords of night. They will have observers watching, ready to send report. While I could simply use my authority to ask they join the alliance, a display of your capabilities would make the transition even smoother.”

“Which means Narictus is not just a training opportunity, but the chance to make a good first impression on further allies,” Tegin spoke. “The recent, if rushed, modifications Mister Gregory Hannegan has made to our fleets and armaments give us a critical edge.”

“I’d have thought it an exaggerated rumor if not witnessed with my own eyes, but General Tegin speaks true. Guns fire faster and stronger, armor’s far tougher, enchantments flow smoother… everything is just better when directed by Lord Hannegan’s hand. Our void fleet and military’s capabilities have increased by an entire fifty percent. An utterly absurd figure, and that’s a very conservative estimate too.”

King Alstatyn’s declaration was met with some murmurs and impressed whispers. Though the subject of that, a surly old man who looked irritated at the fact that he was in a meeting and not directing work, didn’t seem to care in the slightest. Typical Old Man Hannegan, Orodan thought as a smile came to his face.

Even if the loop ended for some reason, or something horrific occurred, he now had an odd confidence that Alastaia wasn’t entirely defenseless without him. Even if their combat power without this alliance was lacking, they at least had a Celestial foreman who could direct labor to absurd heights. And the old supervisor would only continue to grow better and better at it as he gained skill levels.

There were more discussions on strategy, what their tactics should be, and the exact approach of things. For a lot of these discussions, Zaessythra delegated command and tactics to a trusted cadre of Transcendent and Grandmaster-level individuals from each world. She simply said that it would be improper of her to take direct command when she would not be doing any of the fighting.

And from what Orodan had seen of her ability to hurt the Prophet… he entirely agreed.

They hadn’t sparred, not yet. But he recalled a certain absurd strength and an eerie and esoteric aura to her which he had briefly felt when their lips had touched during more private moments.

That half-dragon was dangerous. He held faith in nobody else as much as he did her, the trust being implicit and absolute. But that didn’t erase the instinctual recognition that she, even if not as powerful in the raw sense… could likely hurt him badly if she got the chance.

He hadn’t even had the chance to ask about her Status, but knew that there were going to be some surprises waiting in there for him.

Whatever the collision zone between the Eldritch Boundless One and its sadistic sibling had done, it had given rise to and assisted in the reforging of a being who was deadlier than any he’d seen within System space. And the addition of that strange and ephemeral being who had helped at the very end had only added to that.

The strategic discussion continued for a while, longer.

Aerial formations, ground tactics, artillery arrangements, spatiomantic maneuvers and all other things related to combat and warfare were discussed.

A discussion which came to a halt as the grand doors, shut when the meeting had begun, swung open.

“Balastion?” Orodan asked. “I was wondering where you were.”

If anyone else bristled at the fact that the first emperor simply barged in while being late, they didn’t voice it when Orodan acknowledged him.

But social mores were the least of their concerns. Especially when accompanying the ruler of Novarria was a certain madman.

Alovardo Balmento.

Orodan’s eyes narrowed as he gave the nutcase a questioning look. Most thought the ancient Balmento of Arkwall to be utterly deranged, but that was far from the truth. The man had simply seen the truth of the Eldritch and accepted it wholly and fully. Some way, somehow, Alovardo could speak to System numbers the same way Orodan could. And the man could perceive things about the grander state of the System.

So when the man’s words came, he listened.

“The numbers speak clear. They say there have been quite a few… external breaches.”

It was a singular proclamation. And none came after.

The meeting erupted into chaos.

#

“The timing is simply too coincidental for it to not be related. You should not have stopped me, Orodan Wainwright,” Almyra coldly said.

“I concur,” Zaessythra added in agreement.

“I disagree,” Alagameth spoke.

“My heart is in agreement with Almyra… but to interfere in their decision would have been naught but tyranny,” Orodan himself spoke, his voice heavy with concern and reluctance.

The three Embodiers and the resurrected half-dragon with dubious status stood on a cliff above, the assembled armies of the alliance beneath them. They were not commanding, but simply watching as the delegated commanders barked orders and organized the troops for the landfall and assault which would occur soon.

The grand array of Alastaia, a device perfected and tinkered with by Fenton and Clyburn Anderthorn, with field-specific guidance provided by Talricto and Alagameth, stood proud. It was roiling with power. Destartes—who was the alliance’s second best space mage after the spatial spider—stood at the ready to prime it on the marked hour.

The decision to continue with the invasion regardless of Alovardo’s warning was not one made lightly.

A sizeable minority of those present had whispered undercurrents of whether the invasion should be postponed while they prepared for defensive measures. W78 had been among them, warning the alliance not to take that anomaly lightly even if they were within System space.

And to the surprise of many at that meeting, Orodan had also been among that group.

Not because he feared that thing which had seen him and he it, but for the safety of everyone else who was looping alongside him. He had almost insisted he be allowed to sally to the boundaries of System space, wait for it and then face it in battle himself.

Of course, that suggestion had been shot right down by Balastion and King Alstatyn with the reminder that he wasn’t the only time looper anymore. But he was the central one. If he died, everyone else reset as the loop brought it all back in time to his midnight wakeup in Ogdenborough.

They had, not incorrectly, argued that the tens of thousands of people he brought into the loop now had their own trainining plans, their own desires, and the goal of proving themselves more than just carry-along baggage. Balastion had even used his own line of reasoning against him, reminding him of the fact that he had carried out the grand alteration of the loops themselves so that everyone had the chance to take control of their own destiny.

It would be hypocritical of him to deny the majority decision now.

Worst of all, the minority who initially protested had then been drawn into an impassioned speech by an Alastaian Grandmaster about how Orodan had done so much for them, and it was now their turn to show him that they too could rise and stand beside him. They owed it to him to work hard and acquire more strength, or so the man had said.

Orodan remembered the man as being the same one who had venomously lashed out at Ilydia Arestos, whose daughter had been killed by a vampire in Scarmorrow.

The man’s emotional and rousing speech had then convinced the remaining minority that they should continue. Thus, with nine-tenths of the looping alliance in agreement that the world invasion needed to happen, Orodan had been outvoted.

He had not stopped Vespidia from sacrificing herself. He had not stopped Fenton from joining him in battle and then giving his own life. So he could not in good conscience deny any warrior their opportunity for glory.

Almyra, at W78’s insistence, had even tried to pull rank… but Orodan had to reluctantly step in and stop her, no matter how much he had wanted to agree.

He could only remain as their guardian, and watch carefully for any signs of that thing’s entrance while the alliance battled upon Narictus.

“Orodan Wainwright,” Alagameth spoke up. “You have slain an Administrator, clashed against Boundless Ones and given your all for us to bring everyone into the time loops. I have faith that you will let no harm befall us.”

The spatial spider, the Embodiment of Space, sounded far too trusting with such words. A tone which had Orodan’s shoulders feeling even heavier.

“I am not all-powerful. And the way W78 speaks of this thing, it reigns in a field of battle which is difficult to affect,” Orodan cautioned. “It’s not myself I worry for, it is anyone who might see this creature. A broken mind will still loop over.”

The spatial spider seemed to straighten a bit at those words, taking them seriously.

“You are correct. Forgive my casual demeanor towards such a threat… perhaps we have grown too used to your strength shielding us. Even then, they have made their decision. There is a certain… devotion, a zeal to how these soldiers act. And it is not one so easily doused when its originator continues to perform one absurd feat after another,” Alagameth elaborated, then his voice slowed. “Can you expect them to suddenly cease the invasion at such a warning? Look at them, they venerate you. When the decision is based upon a consensus who among them would want to be seen as the coward when the time looper who has brought their loved ones back has never taken a step back in the face of the enemy?”

Orodan could not discount that point. His very behaviour itself was rubbing off on these other loopers and influencing their decisions. He would never retreat, he would never surrender. Before no foe would he balk or show anything less than pure battle zeal.

And when he had personally liberated Lonvoron and then resurrected so many? It was a powerful incentive to emulate his natural manner of doing things.

“Perhaps I should act more of a craven then.”

“Too little too late for that. The subject of one of your grudges, Agathor, already bears that moniker. If you hear how those chroniclers and those who read their tripe go on about it, you might even blush,” Zaessythra added with a dry smirk.

“I barely understood half of what they were asking me when I met them…” Orodan muttered. “But enough of that. I sense the soldiers down below aren’t too happy with the wait.”

The assault was due in fifteen minutes now.

Narictus had no idea of what was coming. The broader Hegemony likely knew by now that there was a Celestial skill bearer on Alastaia. the Lord of Night would have been stupid not to say something when his retrievers had been met with such organized and deadly force when trying to come get Old Man Hannegan. But that didn’t mean the broader Hegemony as a whole was prepared.

According to Almyra and in particular, Zaessythra, the report of a random planet with a Celestial suddenly being a hotbed for armies of Grandmasters and Transcendents would alarm Agrimon, but acting suddenly would be reckless. In fact, the Collective brought report of various scouting voidcraft peering as closely at their and Thazrivin’s star systems as they could get away with.

There was likely to be some manner of diplomatic contact to figure out what the alliance wanted, and hostilities from there if compromise couldn’t be reached. After all, if Narictus’s reports to the Hegemony were accurate, then it was plain to see that the arrayed worlds of the time looping group were a force equal to the Hegemony, if not greater.

Of course, the point was moot when the alliance’s majority opinion was to skip all the steps of diplomacy and give their answer in the form of war.

Soldiers, mages, engineers and captains all waited impatiently as the timer ticked down. Finally, at five minutes left to go, Destartes broke the silence.

“Are there any who remain unprepared?”

A silent field and quiet skies greeted that question.

The portal frame began glowing as Orodan’s mentor in magic activated the specific spatiomantic sequence required to attune it directly to Narictus.

And the arrayed forces of the time looping alliance roared their approval, rushing right towards the grand array.

Orodan’s Vision of Purity shot through the instant the grand array connected its mighty spatial rift to the surface of Narictus. His sight ensuring that there were no nasty surprises or ambushes waiting for the invading force on the other side.

There weren’t.

Designing a spatial array capable of making direct landfall onto the surface of a heavily guarded planet with its own Transcendents and armies of Grandmasters was no easy feat. Amplified by the fact that Narictus’s retrieval party sent out to nab Old Man Hannegan had failed recently, the forces of the night lords were doubtlessly on high alert.

However, the primary defense for preventing such landfall were wards. Particularly anti-spatiomancy wards; those powered by the defending world core. A world core which was now being suppressed as Orodan felt the world crown around his arm glow hot, the connection between him and Alastaia letting him feel how strained it was.

But the world spirit of his homeworld was not alone.

It should have been an impossible feat. For three world cores to coordinate and be capable of diverting energy towards a target one for invasion. It was not something which happened in the galactic scheme of things.

But when one had twelve newly empowered divinities who were their own dimension alongside a spider with prodigious ability to manipulate said forces, it was a different matter.

Said dimensional phase spider was sitting atop a rock, a few dozen meters away, and in a state of absolute focus. Orodan was supposed to have gone on a trip with it someplace, but Talricto had not said when or where, so that likely meant after the battle. The dimensional phase spider was still as a statue as it carefully manipulated the dimensional boundaries and pathways to allow for Alastaia’s twelve empowered divinities to accept world energy from three separate world cores.

Energy which was then harmonized and brought together to enter the opening through the grand array.

Zaessythra’s world crown was glowing. As was the High-Orast Valmarra Malvorra’s staff. Orodan hadn’t even known that the implement was the world crown. Then again, if Zaessythra had used a world crown in the shape of a sword a long time ago, it seemed there was little limitation.

Vylrystia and Thazrivin were lending their energies to this joust between world cores.

And as Orodan, Zaessythra, Almyra and Alagameth stepped through the grand array after the army, the sudden and abrupt shift from Alastaian greenery gave way to a view of shadows, mist and dark forest.

The teleportation was seamless; the allied world cores had done their job in interfering with Narictus’s own. Orodan could practically feel the world of night and shadow roiling with indignant rage. Not whoever was controlling it, but the world itself, unhappy that its dominion over itself had been so thwarted.

They were upon the world of the vampire lords now, with the three moons—red, white and yellow—illuminating the tops of gloomy forest canopies and brief pockets of open ground in-between.

Orodan and his fellow Embodiers had stepped in behind the looping alliance’s army, so by the time they set foot onto the enemy world, battle was already occurring.

The native flora and fauna upon the enemy world wasn’t nice. And they’d landed quite near where Orodan himself had entered Narictus a long time ago, which meant they were in the sole clearing pocket exposed to moonlight in the middle of a deep, dark forest. The grass was blood-sucking, the trees haunted and full of spiders and even some of the flowers had dangerous attributes which affected the mind and soul.

A forest of death which Orodan hadn’t quite been concerned with when he’d entered and had much battle power to field. But for the average soldier of the Collective and mage of Thazrivin? Not so pleasant.

“Accursed grass tryin’ to nip at my heels!”

“Demonic ground! Quick! Cast a fire spell!”

“No nitwit! This is why you remain a mage-apprentice! Ice! Not fire!”

The physically frailer members of the alliance army weren’t having a good time. But this was where the alliance showed itself strong. This was no flailing bunch of amateurs. This was a planned operation with various groups involved.

Alastaian warriors and Vylrystian half-dragons strode to the front, ushering their softer allies back as they fearlessly walked through the blood-sucking grass which found no purchase. Metal boots and skin hardened by physical skills underneath was a poor target for vampiric grass And a Blackworth engineer sitting atop the shoulders of a half-dragon threw a large flask out.

“Alkahest out! Pardon the smell!”

The bubbling substance when it landed, caused the field of grass to wither and die on contact.

Small combat units and drones of the Unity came in too, their metallic frames and inorganic bodies entirely immune to being drained of blood or being a meal for some of the hungry fauna. They systematically burned haunted trees, scanned surroundings and catalogued data.

And finally, using this clear patch, mage-lords and half-dragon mages came in. One cast a spell which froze the ground dead. A half-dragon war mage cast a mighty gale which stripped the fog for a few miles and then Silestor Lumenarin came through with his corps of light mages, beginning sanctification rituals which seemed to be utterly anathema to anything of Narictus.

A safe zone was now cleared. And it was here that Orodan saw the arrayed Transcendents and empowered divines of the alliance convened, watching but not interfering yet.

“I’m surprised you didn’t eradicate the surrounding hundred miles as a heroic afterthought,” Orodan remarked, looking at the old halberdier among them.

“And deny the young their chance at glory? No. Just as you remain an observer, stepping in only to face those foes who are beyond us, so too will we do the same for our juniors,” Adeltaj replied. “A frightening world I must say. Three moons shining their eerie light upon a canvas of eerie death among which I have seen nothing bright and good.”

“The very nature of death has been perverted in this place. So many lost and unguided souls… so many bound to necromancers and blood lords. It is… heretical in the extreme,” Malzim spoke, a frigid determination to him. Orodan had always known the death God to care about the sanctity of the fallen, so for him to see this? The Inuanan divine was understandably unhappy.

Their tactical asset, the informant Aherozam, was nervously looking around too.

“This forest used to be green and full of life in my time. Back before the Lord of Night truly won and cast out all the divines affiliated with light and dominated our world with undeath and a regime of blood. But I still remember… the hidden paths… there! An entrance to the warren network of the ghoul chiefs! We might use it to advance easier, but be warned, the way shall be treacherous and filled with barrow wights as well.”

“Ghouls? Barrow wights? That sounds dreadful!” Edrosic complained, sitting upon a rock as he was casually sketching new spell scrolls for upcoming fights without even looking. “I vote we stay above ground. Not that my vote counts…”

“Unfortunately, Mister Edrosic, as miserable as I too find the prospect, we must brave the underground for that is the only way to the depths and eventually, the world core. We will remain stuck fighting a war of attrition against Narictus for a long time if we do not aim right for the heart of it. This way, it forces Vakan Almante, the Lord of Night… to respond to us,” Tegin Carrotfoot spoke.

Left unsaid was the fact that Orodan had roused the ire of something from beyond System space and Alovardo madly spoke of more external breaches. This daring plan to directly march underground was as much a result of strategy as it was the desire to get something out of Narictus before whatever it was reached.

He had no idea when it would arrive, but the quicker they moved, the better. That way, even if Orodan died this loop would have produced some tangible benefits for all the other loopers.

Almyra nodded and stepped away.

“Very well. The main force will brave the tunnels, while Alstatyn and I shall direct the Collective’s fleets to encircle the planet and harry the vampires from above. Be well, Orodan Wainwright, Zaessythra. And… keep your senses sharp for that thing… your description of it does little to reassure me.”

Almyra and a few members of the Collective departed.

The grand array had deposited the ground army onto Narictus’s surface, but another one in the void had allowed the Blackworth Collective’s fleets to enter voidspace right in planetary orbit. A two-pronged assault to distract the vampires with bombardment and orbital landings in key cities and settlements while the underground assault army proceeded deeper and deeper.

In fact, this aid from above the atmosphere came in soon as a gigantic swarm of bats, gargoyles and harpies in the distance—likely sent as a reactionary harrassment force to pin them until Narictus’s main armies arrived—was utterly scythed down by cannon fire and guns from up high beyond the clouds.

“Huzzah! The skies belong to us, blood suckers!” an Alastain captain declared, causing much cheer.

However, this world had more than just swarms of chaff to throw at them.

The warren entrance, which was their way into the underground networks of Narictus and eventually its depths and world core, was a door which went both ways.

And the massive horde of ghouls and skeletal undead pouring out didn’t look too happy with the fact that invaders were on their soil.

This would be a long and bloody invasion.

#

“Incredible… the flames of Captain Argon are almost peerless! Ain’t seen a pyromancer more talented in me life…! Er… besides yerself that is, Wainroach!”

Fenton’s swiftly amended words came in response to the jealous wriggles of Wainroach’s antennae. She was competitive, and Orodan’s youngest disciple. But while he had trained her and she was a true prodigy, this campaign against Narictus was showing exactly what he’d theorized.

That aside from himself, the Embodiers and his inner circle… the time loop could produce monsters of talent who he hadn’t really noticed before.

After all, if Orodan and his disciples could learn and get better throughout the loops, so too could the now tens of thousands of other people he’d added to the time loops.

Among them was one Captain Argon. A man, who even in this timeline clung very stubbornly to his honor and had immediately stepped down as Baron of his house. He still bore the name Argon, but the nominal house head was now the young Surena, his daughter.

The man had… changed.

In his early loops when it had just been him in the time loops, Orodan had not thought twice a single time when ending the man’s life beneath Mount Castarian. Why should he have? The former Baron Viglas Argon was a traitor to the Republic, assisting Novarria with taking control of the ancient machine and then turning it against all the innocents of Volarbury County. An event that killed hundreds of thousands at minimum.

Orodan was a warrior. To him, killing was no poet’s subject of angst and hand-wring. Baron Viglas Argon was a man who, every loop, had chosen to aid Novarria and intentionally turn the machine against the innocent people of an entire county. Not out of tactical consideration… but revenge.

There would be no regret for all the times, all the loops, he had slain the man.

But here and now, since he’d been added to the loops, and even before that… the man had changed.

Orodan now knew that Baron Viglas was a vengeful man who was bitter at the Republic and the world for giving his house nothing even when the man’s parents and siblings had defected to the Republic and died in the process. Orodan had then learned that there was a soft spot still in the Baron, for his daughter Surena Argon. And against all odds, gave him the choice, to no longer remain Baron Viglas Argon… or to die then and there as he had in hundreds of loops before.

The Baron had taken it.

And now, being a part of the time loops, even when Orodan had altered the very timeline itself to ensure that the man’s parents and siblings had never died, Captain Argon remained.

Stubborn. Much like him.

Though Orodan did not find himself disliking that in the slightest.

A freakishly talented pyromancer too. Neck-and-neck with Wainroach in terms of raw talent and speed of advancement. And a particularly handy asset to have when the alliance’s army was delving the ghoul warrens and fighting swarm after swarm of the hungry beasts.

Orodan, remaining the observer alongside the other Embodiers and Transcendents, could only watch. Yet, even then he was surprised at how hostile to traversal these ghoul warrens were. He had been expecting the gigantic tunnels which the depths of Alastaia had. Instead, these warrens were narrow, barely man-high and not wide enough to fit more than two standing side-by-side. This forced their assault to slow significantly as Collective Engineers and Thazrivin mage-lords worked to properly expand them so that the Blackworth’s steam-powered vehicles and the half-dragons of Vylrystia could properly carry through.

There had been some talk of leaving the vehicles and half-dragons behind, but Orodan had recommended that it would be good training to stubbornly push through and make it work regardless. Given how the engineers and mage-lords frequently smiled as their levels increased, that hadn’t been the wrong idea.

Still, even with tunnels being cleared, they often had to deal with ghoul swarms pouring out of side tunnels. Captain Argon dealt with large portions of them, Wainroach the other half. And it became a competitive joust between the two of them to see who could kill more. The ghouls, terrifying as they would have been to an unprepared force, were little match for two high-level pyromancers flooding their network of narrow side tunnels with lethal flame. It even had Clyburn muttering that perhaps they could build devices which flooded tunnels with the Collective’s trademark magically hot steam for future invasions, thereby sparing their two best pyromancers such drudgery.

Still, the advance proceeded without a single casualty, even if the assault force had split up and taken various routes, each of them leading to the world core, and each group with a Transcendent. Normally a bad idea, but with Orodan able to Dimensional Step in if things went wrong, they felt confident.

The ghouls were just too weak before the organized forces of the alliance. Hells, even if the entirety of Narictus’s ghoul population stood before them, Orodan had confidence that just the Alastaian heavy infantry could weather that storm and eventually win.

That confidence in the soldiers of his home world was tested however, as the miserably narrow tunnels suddenly turned to constructed ones. Tiles of beautiful stone, wondrous architecture and majestic murals depicting ancient civilizations.

Yet all of that was secondary to the hurled javelin which would have pulped the skull of Warden Varadian Rockwood who was leading the formation if not for Orodan batting the javelin away. The collateral caused the tunnel to collapse until he rewound time to restore it.

“Contact! Shields up! Mages! Warding and defensive spells!” the Warden roared, clearly embarrassed at needing to be saved at all.

He couldn’t be blamed for it when the javelin came from a Transcendent.

“Embodier…!” a shrill voice hissed. “You defy cosmic order by meddling upon a world! These are the barrows of High-Lord Ulthaam Adhaaran! I declare you all trespassers! The Hegemony is not without allies of its own!”

The speaker was a gaunt, armored… skeleton. An actual skeleton in heavy armor, but with glowing eye sockets which were connected to its soul which inhabited the bony frame.

Orodan knew that skeleton warriors existed on Alastaia. Particularly in monster infestation sites. He’d even died to a skeleton monk a few times during his very early loops at Eversong Plaza. But he’d never seen a Transcendent skeleton warrior at all, neither had he seen one who wasn’t under some necromancer’s binding. This, from what Vision of Purity confirmed, really was an independent being which had somehow kept its soul bound to a skeletal frame.

“I will not fight, save to keep me and mine alive and oversee them as they invade your world,” Orodan clarified, though that did not make the skeletal Transcendent ease up in the slightest.

“A good throw,” Adeltaj spoke, stepping forward to meet his Transcendent counterpart as the skeleton also wielded a halberd. “But you shall not get the chance to repeat it. Narictus’s tyranny of blood and shadow comes to an end today. Come, let me show you that remaining a bony husk is not the advantage you think it is.”

An honest duel between warriors as the barrow wight clashed against Adeltaj while the front line of the Alastaian army fought the barrow wights toe-to-toe. The soldiers of the Collective were about to intervene when a Vylrystian commander stopped them, declaring the confrontation an important one for training.

And ten minutes of battle showed that there were yet some distinct advantages to remaining living.

For starters, the half-dragon units of heavy infantry were just overwhelming. Their numbers were fewer, but no barrow wight of the same level ever stood a chance. Even ten-to-one the species itself was just monstrous.

However, it was the Alastaian infantry who truly proved their worth. Barrow wights? Outmuscled by warriors who had Physical Fitness and even a handful who had higher rarity body skills.

Bone against muscle which also had bone underneath tended to go the way of the latter. Especially when a living human also had adrenaline and a certain zeal for fighting for their life which the undead couldn’t match one-to-one. These wights, all of them, had a phylactery they were bound to. Upon death, each one’s soul flew back in the direction of it…

…until the alliance’s backline of soul mages stepped in to ruin their day.

Needless to say, once the wight armies came to the realization that their souls were being snatched out of the air upon death, they fought with far greater desperation. But it was too little too late. Even if a wight had more lifespan and theoretically greater technique than a living soldier of the same level, it just wasn’t enough to bridge the physical gap and the gulf in mindset. Especially when stagnation led to the undeads’ combat instincts getting duller and their desire to fight each battle like the last diminishing.

When Adeltaj’s halberd came down upon the Transcendent wight warrior, the battle took a sharp turn towards disaster for the barrow legions. They fell shortly after, with the alliance free to continue their journey towards the deeper depths of Narictus and towards its world core.

An hour later, they crossed the first gate, and predictably Adeltaj received a message as being a Quest Subject. Not every soldier had been designated, but as the strongest warrior of this particular assault group the old halberdier had been singled out, with the wording demanding that all able-bodied warriors of Narictus slay the invader and his minions.

More barrow legions came, though they were far fewer in number than expected.

“Not as heavy a welcome as I’d have expected for being the subject of a Quest,” Adeltaj said, and then smiled. “How ironic that I helped complete a Quest long ago and now am the Subject of one.”

“It’s less impressive than you think. Anyone stepping past the first gate of a world triggers the automated process. Well, besides me who doesn’t have the regular System anymore,” Orodan replied. “And your fun’s being spoiled by another assault group up ahead. Looks like Balastion and Malzim have reached first. As have Ozgaric and Destartes with theirs opposite us.”

The alliance’s army was rather enormous. Having that many allied soldiers, mages, engineers and war machines take one route would have been unfeasible. And it seemed that two other assault groups had reached the first gate before they had, blunting the possible response since it was tied up dealing with those already.

Their war party advanced further, scything down barrow wights, but now… also formations of werewolves and vampires.

Werewolves were good.

Orodan was an outlier. A freak and an anomaly. Through endless loops and the grit of his own blade he had become one of the cosmos’s deadliest warriors who neither man nor beast could match. He had slain demonic berserkers unarmed, fought the worst things no human was meant to fight and did it in melee, toe-to-toe. But he was not at all the standard for what an Alastaian warrior was.

The Alastaian infantry had reaved right through the wight legions but now heavily struggled against the monstrous werewolves. Orodan, having Zaessythra squeeze his shoulder reassuringly to stop him, could only watch as human and elf warriors were torn apart and savaged by the feral fury of Narictus’s heavily armored werewolf infantry wielding giant two-handed weapons backed by their seven and eight-foot tall frames. Only the numerically smaller half-dragon infantry could compete, and they handily won duels against the werewolves, but their numbers were smaller.

Thankfully, the backline corps of soul mages and chronomancers got to work in resurrecting combat casualties. And it was then that the decision to remain uninvolved proved to be the right one.

Alastaian warriors came back to life, rewound in time, and they came back having acquired new skills and having made significant gains due to the extreme stress of life-and-death combat. It wasn’t pretty, and not everyone was a battle-lusted maniac like him who cared little for getting savaged and then returning to fight right after.

Plenty of Alastaian warriors quailed upon their return, rotating to the back and wanting no further piece of combat. But that had been accounted for too, for as soon as they did, a supply-master handed them a Blackworth rifle and ordered them to shooting.

Those who valorously remained through multiple combat deaths and resurrections grew strong. Very strong.

Varadian Rockwood returned as allied chronomancers restored him from having his head crunched by the jaws of a Grandmaster werewolf alpha. However it was his killer’s turn to feel the sting as the Alastaian commander’s shield crunched the werewolf’s snout inwards.

It was… not pleasant. But those who remained made profound gains. Their valor and guts rewarded as they came back over and over within the span of this single battle within this single loop.

Perhaps those who had been shaken would rethink their careers as warriors, but those who stood and returned… they would be forged into something greater.

And most importantly… melee was not the alliance’s only recourse. Something which became brutally apparent as the crack of gunfire had giant, ferocious werewolves dropping like flies with each shot.

A Grandmaster-level shooter, a graying woman in the gunline, was positively glowing as she gained skill levels with each kill. As did other gunners around her in the formation. What did centuries of training and enhancement by their vampiric masters matter when the crack of a Blackworth Collective riflewoman’s weapon could silence all that with no fanciful duel?

It was not Orodan’s way of fighting, but he could respect the craft, the weapon and most importantly, the shooter’s discipline and mastery of their implement. Battle was battle, no matter the tool.

The press of battle was vicious, but with Adeltaj engaging an enemy Transcendent werewolf who came out, and another Collective Transcendent rifleman at the back engaging a Narictus necromancer—popping the head before a single spell could be cast—their assault group made it through.

Just like the scenery past Alastaia’s first gate, here too, civilization was present. That civilization coming in the form of the barrow legions they had dismantled on the way in. It was interesting to see how a world’s depths formed its defenses when under an actual World Ruler.

Unlike Alastaia where the civilization past the gates was composed of monsters who had no contact with the surface world, here it was different. The barrow legions looked as though they had been placed there by the Lord of Night. They were used to fighting alongside and coordinating with the werewolves, necromancers and true vampires which had doubtlessly been sent from the surface to stop the world core’s takeover.

He understood now, why long ago the denizens past the first gate of Alastaia had so nervously asked what he would do with them when he became World King for the first time. This was the endstate. A depths where civilization was curated by the world’s ruler themselves. Likely at the expense of servitude for the former inhabitants, or at worst… death.

This all culminated and was confirmed as Orodan overheard the shouts of battle as their assault group approached a giant barrow-wight fortress. Behind it, his Vision of Purity told him, was the second gate and the world core.

“Wicked mortals! Foul machines! I, High-Lord Ulthaam Adhaaran do not brook your presence without challenge! I am Lord Vakan’s first appointed Gate Guardian! Your cheap magics will not work against one who has developed the ability to resist the Divine and Mana!”

What? The divine and mana?

Orodan quirked an eyebrow at seeing that the wight lord was not wrong. Virtually every spell hurled his way was nullified with prejudice, as though it was water splashing upon a rock. Destartes and the High-Orast, cataclysmic as their magic was, were struggling to make purchase. And Malzim, stronger as the death God had grown, was doing absolutely nothing against it.

Destartes’s Eternal Soul Reactor then came on and the Transcendent mage began flinging spells empowered by soul energy, but these too weren’t enough to overcome the wight-lord’s clever evasion and martial skill.

To the side, Ozgaric and Balastion fought a giant golden-furred werewolf God materialized directly in the physical plane, their assault group doing its own work. However, the duel against the Gate Guardian, even three against one, wasn’t faring as well.

Which was when a singular warrior stepped up. Smaller than any Alastaian human or elf, and definitely smaller than the half-dragon warriors of the army. If stature was what it took to beat this wight-lord, then the comer did not measure up.

But it was a good thing stature did not decide battles. Not when the warrior was a Grandmaster as strong as Zukelmux.

“High-Lord Ulthaam Adhaaran. If magic and divinity fail to stop you, then let a warrior born and raised upon Alastaia itself face you! I, Zukelmux of the Rising Spear tribe, Grandmaster of many skills, and first disciple of Orodan Wainwright, challenge you to personal combat!”

If someone had told him that the hottest pride he would ever have burning through his heart would be from his first disciple representing him in combat, he would’ve told them to pound rocks. Yet there was no escaping the sheer satisfaction. But also the concern.

Never before had any of his disciples been armed and sent off to their possible deaths in a loop while he wasn’t fighting. But now he was expected to just stand by and watch while Zukelmux, a Grandmaster, fought a powerful Transcendent?

Yes, the loops would bring the goblin back. Yes, even within a loop he could be resurrected.

But that didn’t mean Orodan liked it. He found himself uneasy in a way he hadn’t been in a long time.

Life was far easier when only he was the one at risk of being killed.

It was far from an ideal matchup too. Zukelmux had grown a lot stronger, but this was no early Transcendent, but a decent one, just near the mid 130s from what Orodan sensed.

He was contemplating stepping in when a shout interrupted him.

“Mister Wainwright come! Zukelmux does his part and that is all we can ask of him!” Tegin Carrotfoot exclaimed, directing Alastaian forces past the duel between the goblin and the wight-lord. “The world core awaits and we would feel a lot better if you were present when we took it!”

Zaessythra saw the hesitation in him. However her meaningful look was enough to get him moving.

It would be… dishonorable to interrupt a warrior’s own chosen duel.

If magic and divine power were useless. And mages like Destartes and the High-Orast were failing due to the wight-lord’s skill at evasion… then perhaps a warrior was the best way. And he could only hope that the sharpness and confidence he saw in his first disciple’s eyes and posture were not empty things. And perhaps his other disciples nearby would not be so quick to allow their ‘big brother Zukelmux’ to fall today.

Orodan and Zaessythra carried on. They were joined by Ozgaric and Balastion who had successfully slain the enemy God, a werewolf Orodan himself recalled fighting long ago. Alagameth—who remained non-participatory—and the rest of the Transcendent inner circle of loopers also convened.

“There is no better time for Vakan Almante to face us than when we are in the chamber of the world core,” Balastion said. “Grandmasters and below will be pointless for that battle. Let them fight their battles out here. We however, must head inside and confront the Lord of Night.”

Adeltaj grimly nodded, grip tightening on his halberd; he was the best warrior among the alliance’s Transcendents and would be needed to occupy the foe. Balastion, Destartes and Eldarion were present too. As were a number of the Collective’s Transcendents, including a rather powerful rifleman wielding an oversized but thin weapon. Orodan roughly gauged this man as being near the 140s in his chosen skill.

Thus, as the army fought in the area past the first gate, even as the wight-lord roared furiously at the fact that a group of Transcendents were simply bypassing it, they did so and moved past the second gate.

Nobody reported any quest subject warnings, but the area past the gate was suspiciously empty in a way which screamed, trap.

Vision of Purity scanned the area closely, but nothing came. Odd.

Similar to Alastaia’s world core, reaching Narictus’s wasn’t difficult. A grand hallway, followed by a final turn before entering a truly gargantuan chamber.

The world core of Narictus was gigantic. At least four times the size of Alastaia’s. And it was entirely calm with only one individual in the room.

Vakan Almante, the Lord of Night, the very first vampire. Orodan had cleansed him of the taint once, long ago.

“Villain. You have caused enough hurt,” Adeltaj declared. “Now, you face the combined force of-”

“Trespassers. Interlopers,” the progenitor of all vampires slowly spoke, not at all worried. “Think you that I am unaware of your time looping natures? That I will call my overlord and his petty and distant Embodier to help? No… I have heard it. You have that which has no limit alongside you, do you not?”

Destartes frowned.

“How do you know of these things, vampire? Who has been speaking to you?”

“Speaking to me? No one. Not yet. But speaking to Narictus? One? Many? I cannot say. But they tell me of you… they tell me that I will attain vengeance for my kind, for our lot in this wicked cage built around us if I but… see.”

“See? How does that make any sense? What do you see?”

“Many things. The shell we have cruelly been bound within, all my kind, us lords of blood who cannot help our natures, demonized as wicked blood suckers, fiends, tyrants… when all we do is wish to live. And then… recently… a hole leading out. To… friends. Yes… friends.”

Orodan clocked that something was very wrong from the start. But the vampire’s words only confirmed it. His sword came to hand and he was about to order everyone off of Narictus immediately when two things happened.

The Transcendent rifleman of the Collective put an alchemical bullet in Vakan Almante’s head…

…and the first vampire turned around.

However there were a few problems with this.

First being that the vampire’s head had turned around while the body remained faced away. His limbs had become pitch black too, as though one moment it was a vampire, and the next… a complete absence of light in the form of a man.

And second…

…the face was not at all the foe Orodan recalled cleansing during his last visit here.

It was instead what he’d seen recently.

“What is that thing?” Zaessythra asked, frowning.

A smile too wide. Eyes filled with far too much false joy. A face stretched over a skull too tight. And pale; pale in a way that made the white light of the sun look dark.

Nobody else could react, for they had already seen it.

Adeltaj was the first to break the silence. With words in a language the System could not translate and nobody had ever heard.

Adeltaj spoke of things he shouldn’t have known. Destartes was caught in a perpetual smile. Balastion’s limbs were twisting the wrong way and Eldarion kept mumbling the word friend. And all of this was in-between random bouts of languages that Orodan had never heard within System space.

Narictus was no longer worth consideration.

As Orodan lunged, he used Identify.

[Name: Name? Friend (Species: Friend!)
Title 1: Your Bestest Friend
Title 2: Somebody You Can Trust
Title 3: Just Look At My Smile
Title 4: Now Look At That Door
Title 5: Won’t You Let Me Come Through?
Title 6: Look! I’M HERE NOW!]

Something in the Identify skill, meant to categorize things within the System, souls which had that framework themselves… found itself quivering and wanting to break. Orodan forced it to stay together, but he knew then and there…

…this was dangerous, and there could be no more delays.

He saw it now. And it saw him.

A wail left its throat, the sound coming before its freakish mouth moved.

The human part of his soul wanted to smile forever, to trust the friend.

Yet the warrior within steeled. And Eidolon of Violence shot out to target its weird and non-physical form.

[Eidolon of Violence 97 → Eidolon of Violence 98]

It shrieked in horror, as though Orodan was some monster.

His sword reached the strange corrupt knowledge it was spreading, and savagely butchered it.

Immediately, he regretted his decision.

Adeltaj, Balastion, Eldarion, the High-Orast…

…they all died.

The memory of its face within their minds and souls had wormed in. Slicing it had killed them on the spot.

His blood ran cold at this insidious and monstrous sort of warfare.

“Coward! Face me toe-to-toe!” he howled in rage. “You did this!”

“Friend did! Friend did! Friend hurt friends!”

Despite its weird taunts, it was actively attempting to run from him already. But the damage had been done. For now, all Orodan could seek, was vengeance.

It fled along a most strange dimensional pathway. Not another plane entirely, but almost like a… wave.

Orodan pursued immediately. He reached out with the Eidolon of Violence and even grasped the wave tightly with his fist, horrifying it further, but even then it was wriggly, like a weird snake-thing not physical at all.

Both hands wrapped around it, his teeth were on the verge of coming down upon it, to bite, tear and feast so that it would be no more…

…when two fingers entered his mouth.

He tried to bite down harder, but it was as though his teeth were entering another formless plane altogether. And the two fingers belonged to something that was supposed to look like a human woman, yet was anything but.

The proportions were disturbingly off. Eyes far too big. Mouth far too small. No nose. And one hand which was the size of a gold coin, and the other the size of a tower. It was the gold coin sized hand whose fingers were preventing him from murdering its compatriot on the spot.

[Incipience of Infinity 175 → Incipience of Infinity 176]

It too shrieked and wiggled through space, backwards, as though wanting to remain at the very edge of his perception and not in it.

“Infinite causality. Where does it begin? It smells so nice… let me smell you…”

“I’m afraid. That one is mine.”

That was no freakish anomaly’s voice.

“I would ask how you got here, but your abilities ever since your resurrection have been strange,” Orodan remarked, looking at Zaessythra who had somehow torn into this strange wave of dimensional substance they were in. “These two are dangerous. And the others… I-”

“You did nothing. These things did everything,” she sternly clarified.

“Things? Sibling-sister of our mother-father talks unfamiliarly with? No. No sibling-sister… stranger-prey. Wearing skin of sibling-sister like-”

“Like you wicked things wear smiles. How ironic,” Orodan spat, his rage climbing now. “Let us see if you enjoy being prey as much as you do the predator.”

Anomaly # 3, W78 had called it. It had a sense of self-preservation, so when Orodan had thought it horrified or afraid, really, it was just moving away from him for its own sake. But it was also deathly curious and reached out with a long talon to touch him.

He felt it.

Its impression coming through, seeking purchase in his ribs, through his heart. To pierce mind, soul and body in a way no physical skill would help against.

And it ran headfirst into the wall that was Infinity and did so hard.

It recoiled, and Orodan took the opportunity to try and finish it off, only for it to become non-physical entirely and turn into some sort of… idea.

Zaessythra was clashing against that other anomalous creature, but surprisingly enough to Orodan… she was winning. Handily.

In fact, how even had she withstood it when everyone else went mad?

Still, the problem remained that the creature, anomaly # 3, was fleeing. His three empowered divines were unreachable in time to create clones; chronomancy didn’t seem to work here for some odd reason, dimensionalism too was weirdly sluggish and it was swiftly gaining ground.

It was on the verge of fleeing from the very edge of his perception outright despite his dogged pursuit…

…when a greatsword intercepted it.

Orodan had seen this greatsword.

He had tested himself against it and found himself wanting. He had died against it.

And its bearer was the single most monstrous individual he had ever seen within System space, short of the Boundless One itself.

So he readied his all. Smite of Abrupt Deliverance and Eidolon of Violence together alongside Domain of Perfect Cleaning and Incipience of Infinity.

And as Talasgan’s greatsword intercepted anomaly # 3 and was at risk of sending it flying in another direction, like paper swatted by a stick… Orodan’s own sword met it simultaneously, slamming it between both attacks.

[Eidolon of Violence 98 → Eidolon of Violence 100]

[New Title → Violence Grandmaster]

[New Title → Shield Grandmaster]

[New Title → Wrestling Grandmaster]

[New Title → Woodworking Grandmaster]

[New Title → Stonecutting Grandmaster]

[New Title → Halberd Grandmaster]

[New Title → Mining Grandmaster]

[New Title → Spear Grandmaster]

[New Title → Club Grandmaster]

He had little time to dwell on the fact that he had gained two levels in a single clash. The Warrior was strong. Yet it was a cooperative clash meant to slay a mutual foe.

Yet even then it wriggled and wished to flee!

Orodan did not understand how to truly slay it in a single exchange, so wily was it. Yet then, in that moment, as his and Talasgan’s blades were bound together, knowledge, understanding, wisdom and… teaching came across that bind.

A method through which only two warriors could communicate.

And through the blade of Talasgan, the Warrior, the strongest of the System’s Administrators…

…Orodan Wainwright had the very first step of the answer.

[New Skill → Memetic Hazard Mastery 1 (Mythical)]

[New Title → Invader Slayer]

Anomaly # 3 died as Orodan struck not just what he could see of its being, but the very idea it was. The insidious thought that allowed for it to continually replicate and flee and cause utter mayhem.

And the sheer collision between his weapon and Talasgan’s greatsword caused the entire dimensional wave they were in to utterly rupture.

Zaessythra had successfully killed that other one. How? He had no idea. But she’d done it.

And now, it was just him and the Warrior, face to face, floating in the void in an entirely separate section of the cosmos of System space.

And Talasgan did not look happy.

“What… have you done?”

“I slew it, what else?” Orodan answered.

“Not that! This!” the Administrator said, pointing right at him. “The time loops. What have you done with them. I can sense the causality of all System space heading right towards you now. My compatriots were searching, desperate to find what has riled the Boundless One so, but they sought to no avail. And you appear here, slaying an invader in the process? What have you done, Orodan Wainwright?”

“I added them to the loops. Tens of thousands. Why should they languish in stagnation while I alone grow?”

“Then you have doomed us all. They smell it… the increased power, the draw, the invaders smell it and create even more openings. I have been under the greatest pressure I have ever felt in all my billions of years of duty… and it is because of you,” the Warrior spoke calmly. “And when those things begin to enter en masse… you will realize that having tens of thousands of other time loopers is more curse than boon. I do not know how you have done it, or what you even are… but this is a problem beyond even my understanding now.”

The Warrior faced greater pressure in defending the System’s borders… because of him? And with all these loopers going back…?

His eyes widened. Of course. The souls of those slain must have still been corrupted! He needed to get to them and purify them before the loop restarted.

He needed to regroup and account for casualties. To see how the minds and souls of those affected could be salvaged.

Unfortunately for Orodan, as Zaessythra approached, as Talasgan simply stood vigil silently and almost fatalistically as though he knew what was coming…

…a horrid horizon-encompassing gathering of wicked pink energy began coming through the cracks of reality. And an Eldritch power broke free of its cage to meet it.

As the power of two Boundless collided, the darkness took him.

#

A keening wail ringing in the night sky awoke him.

Zaessythra was with him, though there was no joy in this return. None at all.

Already, Vision of Purity could sense thought patterns and hazardous things carried over from the last loop in the minds of some of the loopers.

Orodan got up, sword and broom in hand.

This loop was a true mess. He needed to figure out who was corrupted and how far that extended. He needed to swiftly work with W78 to develop countermeasures, and once the immediate fires were put out…

…he needed to develop a regular plan to help Talasgan, the Warrior, in defending the sanctity of System space from external predators.

For there would be no grand ambition and no development of Alastaia and the alliance’s peoples if these wicked predators were allowed to run amok every loop.

After all… it was all thanks to him and his alteration of the time loops that had allowed it in the first place.

Which meant it was his responsibility.