Orodan’s feet hit the floor before his mind caught up. Time was the critical factor here.

“I have many questions for you, but now’s not the time. You feel it, don’t you?”

“I do. Something in me… feels a familiar sensation. Velestok. We need to head to the Simarji lumberyard immediately,” Zaessythra said.

Vision of Purity, capable of covering all Alastaia now, confirmed her words.

Orodan really did have a lot to ask her. How had she survived the deadly abilities of those things? How could she feel their taint and find it so easily? Yet none of that mattered when those most important to him were in dire peril.

A Dimensional Step crossed the boundary between planes, and even during that brief walk, his senses were keen and quick enough to note that something was wrong.

The step took him from the bedroom of his hovel to a beautiful clearing within the Aenechean Forest surrounded by a ring of sharp-pointed trees. It was a serene place, and he’d often come here for training in his early loops.

Yet there was nothing serene about the old man who was standing in the middle of the clearing, facing him and Zaessythra. The smile, which seemed friendly on the surface, was far too wide and stretched.

It was not a smile which belonged upon the face of Adeltaj Simarji.

A glimpse at the madness that lay underneath.

And the old Simarji’s halberd was unfurled and discarded to the side like trash. From that alone he knew this was not his Adeltaj; his first mentor would never disrespect the weapon so.

Adeltaj’s mouth opened, and a language the System’s knowledge base failed to translate came out. Yet the words attempted to stir a cognitive disease in him too.

Orodan’s mind shrugged it off, and Zaessythra seemed entirely unaffected, but the nearby pair of house guard’s suddenly stilled…

…and began repeating the same unknown language.

A language that came from more than just them.

He noticed Zaessythra looking up sharply, those foreign words coming from the air too.

“The crows… they speak it too,” she hissed.

The deer in the woods were now speaking it as well, and if that trajectory continued? Nothing good could come of it. There was no more time to waste.

[Domain of Perfect Cleaning 191 → Domain of Perfect Cleaning 192]

[Memetic Hazard Mastery 1 → Memetic Hazard Mastery 5]

The power of his Celestial skill shot outwards, its power spreading out towards all Alastaia. And with it, his newly acquired Memetic Hazard Mastery to guide it.

It was still early in the loop, but right away he felt multiple sites which required cleansing and had spread rather far. A testament to the frighteningly quick spread of this corruptive thought.

Karilsgard near Destartes’ office at Bluefire was a terrible sight. Unlike the lumberyard here where there were few things to corrupt, he sensed hundreds corrupted already.

Similarly, Novar’s Peak was in a bad spot, with hundreds corrupted and mumbling that wicked tongue which spread the corruption further.

But the most grim fate of them all was reserved for Guzuhar. Not any particular city, not any particular town… but the continent itself. After all, if an Eldritch-tainted God could corrupt all their followers… then what could this new taint do when Ozgaric was infected?

The answer was, a lot.

Orodan’s broom purged all Alastaia of that wicked corruption, reaching out through the divine realm’s boundary to get Ozgaric too, but the damage had been done.

Adeltaj fell to the ground like a puppet whose strings had been cut, collapsing in a heap. As did the two guards and the animals all around.

“He’s lost consciousness,” Orodan said. “His mind… is not healed either.”

The very thought which had implanted itself in everyone’s minds was infectious. Furthermore, removing it had only left a very apparent absence which… was not a scar exactly, but a very glaring hole where a thought used to be. Adeltaj’s mind was almost entirely unchanged save for the fact that whatever had struck it had forced the old man’s will to fixate on and become obssessed with that corruptive thought.

The image of that smile, an infectious thing which attempted to force even Orodan’s mind to auto-complete the thought over and over in an endless loop of madness.

Like suddenly taking an addictive substance away from the addled, the outcome wasn’t good. And unless he wanted to begin recklessly altering someone’s very mind itself, Orodan was caught in a bind. Hells, even the potential solution of using chronomancy to revert the changes outright was off the table since this was a new loop, and he’d need access to the time loop mechanism if he wanted to reach into the overall timeline of the loops themselves. He had no real ‘template’ of the old man’s mind from before the infection.

Domain of Perfect Cleaning wasn’t some convenient catch-all cleansing tool. Proper cleaning required at least some idea—either from his end or his recipient’s—about how the correct end state of cleanliness should look. And without knowing perfectly how the minds of the infected should be, Orodan did not want to cause further and potentially permanent disaster by altering them.

The non-loopers who were corrupted would be reset. But the loopers would not.

“The memory orb?” Zaessythra suggested.

He shook his head.

“The memories contained within it are not a full mind.”

“Are we without any recourse then? I refuse to believe that everyone was impacted.”

That was true. And Orodan had a feeling he and Zaessythra weren’t the only ones who had weathered this freak thing.

His Vision of Purity shot out, feeling farther and wider than it ever had before. At the Transcendent level what was a singular planet?

Like a sword thrust tearing through the air to find the foe, his Vision of Purity shot towards a particular direction.

Thazrivin.

It was… unaffected.

The High-Orast looked terrified and in the midst of making several preparations, but the woman was not corrupted by the sight of that thing.

Which left one more world.

Orodan’s sight went to Lonvoron, and right away some things were quite wrong.

Several sections of Fenton’s home planet were sealed in some form of energy. Strange barriers covering a particular military camp, odd barriers covering the place where Almyra herself resided at the start of each loop. And of course, the Prophet outside her abode, channeling power into its Administrator’s Mantle to shatter the barrier.

Finding Almyra under these circumstances wasn’t difficult for the zealot, especially when she was emitting energy like a beacon from all the sudden interventions she was performing.

[Dimensional Step 50 → Dimensional Step 52]

It was this scene which Orodan stepped into, ruining the Prophet’s plans to snag his fellow time looper.

“Foul craven! Your evasion of my grasp has led to you calling upon the Invaders themselves?! You shall face absolution and-”

A flare of power left Zaessythra’s hand, and the Administrator cried out in agony as its very soul twisted with miserable pain. But Orodan’s sword stroke was merciful, bringing an end to it almost immediately.

The barrier powered down the moment the Prophet’s head hit the ground, and a shaky Almyra ascended the steps leading down to her hidden lair beneath the ground.

“I’d normally celebrate the fact that you slaughtered that wretch again, but the situation is dire. The Transcendent rifleman that was with you in that chamber is infected, and he managed to corrupt his entire company before I could step in and place a quarantine barrier over the entire camp,” she spoke. “Whatever you did on Alastaia a few moments ago, I need you to do it here too. They will go unconscious, but we can salvage it from there.”

There was little talk needed after that.

Orodan’s broom hit the ground, purging Lonvoron of all memetic taint and Eldritch at the same time. But this was where he discovered something was wrong.

[Memetic Hazard Mastery 5 → Memetic Hazard Mastery 7]

It pinged in his awareness as something predatory and wrong coming through.

The memetic taint was gone. But whatever had sent it through… had finally crossed through the door. Not here on Lonvoron, but deeper in the void.

Who else would even be out that way?

Orodan thought for less than a second before coming to the answer.

“Stay here, fortify Lonvoron itself if you can. If whoever got corrupted is allowed to act freely… then all of System space might be doomed,” he spoke grimly.

Orodan’s Dimensional Step took him to the deep void between his own Athranos Galaxy and the Vystaxium Galaxy where Lonvoron was located. Just in time too, as he felt multiple spatial rifts and folds attempt to grind him down to pulp all while a terrible language and words which threatened madness were loudly being echoed through spatial rifts leading to various worlds.

This was no corrupt Transcendent. This was a corrupted Embodier.

Alagameth the Silent Oracle. An Embodiment of Space and quite possibly one of the worst individuals to face corruption due to its sheer reach. And next to it… a visitor he’d killed once already.

The spatial spider had not been in the chamber when Anomaly #3 had come through, so he wasn’t entirely sure how the infection had occurred. But that question mattered little when disaster was moments from occurring.

The first thing Orodan did, was channel all his raw power into a Time Reversal.

Alagameth did not react, but Anomaly #3 did. It was a predator whose emotions and feelings were entirely alien to what he knew, but surprise was a rather universal feeling it seemed, for the long-limbed being twitched as spatial rifts began closing and the very sounds, thoughts and corruption that had passed through them reverting backwards as though it had never occurred.

Orodan could not salvage any corrupted loopers this way, but he could certainly salvage non-loopers within the same loop via Time Reversal.

His broom then put an end to the corrupt thoughts within the spatial Embodier’s mind, followed by a gentle but decisive hammer fist to put the spider to sleep. Hard to corrupt anything via information when the mind was entirely shut off and incapable of processing anything.

Which left only him and one other thing.

Pale face, wide eyes and a smile which looked as though a mask was upon a mannequin too tight.

A horrible wail left the mouth of his foe. It hadn’t been expecting his arrival.

“Predator. Displeased that I’ve frustrated your hunt?”

“What is aberration? Not friend. Not human.”

“A warrior. And you’re not going to catch me off-guard this time,” he declared, rapping sword against shield three times in challenge. “If corruption of thought pleases you, then perhaps a taste of your own medicine is in order. You prefer your wily battlefields where you subvert the thoughts of those unprepared, then it is only fair you be dragged into a field of battle for which you are unready. Come, stand and face me toe-to-toe.”

[Memetic Hazard Mastery 7 → Memetic Hazard Mastery 10]

It was a calm demand, but one backed by Eidolon of Violence; specifically the Commandment of War aspect of it. He could see the insidious thought planting itself in its being. Unerasable… domineering. Compulsive.

Right away, it shrieked and howled like a mad thing.

It had run last time, but there would be no running for it now.

And toe-to-toe…

…its fate was sealed against him.

#

“You look miserable…”

“This is far from the sort of situation which induces smiling,” he replied. “And given our recent troubles involving smiles altogether… perhaps it is best I retain my characteristically angry look.”

“You look positively murderous and guilty in equal measure,” she commented, not accusingly, nor in a way which implied he should stop. “I will not tell you to cast away those feelings like some bloodless youth seeking to counsel a hard-bitten soldier… but know that it was not your fault.”

“But it was my responsibility.”

And that was the root of it. Orodan was the central time looper, he was the mightiest Embodier of them all. Everything he had done thus far had been for the sake of uplifting those he cared for. And now they had paid the price for his actions.

Zaessythra claimed it wasn’t his fault, but he disagreed. It was he who had dragged tens of thousands into the time loops. And it was he who had done so without seeking even a word of permission from anyone else. Thus, any consequence which was borne of that decision fell squarely upon his own shoulders.

Talasgan’s words had been very clear.

“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.”

This situation, all of it… was his doing.

He was not blind, nor a self-flagellating penitent in a temple. The situation had come with much to celebrate, yes, but the good did not erase the bad. And Orodan would not take a step backwards in the face of accepting accountability for it.

His inclusion of tens of thousands into the time loops had done something to make System space very vulnerable to external invaders. Predators such as Anomaly #3 were drawn to it; it had somehow whispered to the world core of Narictus, and through it infected the Lord of Night.

And hadn’t that been a miserable sight? Forced to kill his own allies simply to stop further corruption from spreading and their minds from being infected at the start of the next loop.

A sin committed at the gain of nothing, for they were infected all the same.

And that fact couldn’t be more apparent than now, when all eight of the primary infected loopers were before him, still unconscious. Behind them, laid out in cots too, were seventy loopers who bore Blessings of Ozgaric and had been exposed right at the start of the loop.

It had been two days since the start of the loop.

The Department of Looper Affairs; despite Orodan thinking it was a stupid name, had done its work. Tegin and those gifted in the administrative facet of things had swiftly gathered people togethered, coordinated the building of relays to the other worlds of the alliance and also organized every single mind mage and relevant specialist to come forth to Alastaia.

Yet even then, the sight of all these unconscious people was a heavy weight to bear.

“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.”

Faith misplaced.

“You are not almighty,” Zaessythra said, nudging his arm as though sensing what his thoughts were. “You did not force anyone into choosing this path nor going along with their decision.”

“You are correct,” he simply said, leaving it there.

But inside he knew, that there was little point to all the strength he had if he could not protect those beneath him when the time came. If he was to be the pillar upon which dreams could become reality, then the shade of his strength needed be capable of sheltering all who harbored beneath it.

And he refused to accept a lack of power as a limitation.

The healing hall was quiet, beneath the gigantic branches of the wisdom tree of Ildisiar. They were on Eldiron of course, and Tegin and his department had argued that having a network of ancient trees with extensive knowledge might help remedy the situation. After all, on Alastaia, none were as good at healing maladies as the elves.

Speaking of Tegin, the halfling General’s small footsteps pattered upon the wooden floor, accompanied by Alovardo Balmento and the High-Orast.

“Mister Wainwright, hopefully the news I bring shall reset your exceptionally intense scowl to your standard angry look,” the halfling said. “Things are looking… optimistic. Lord Balmento, if you would?”

“The minds are… obsessed, not unsalvageable. The numbers see a path forward clearly,” the eccentric madman spoke and then swatted at a strand of System energy in the air. “No, it can be done, do not be so pessimistic!”

The High-Orast Valmarra Malvorra shook her head, her look serious, but not as severe as it had been two days ago.

“What he means to say is, our mind mages have found methods of slowly reversing the obsession. We are not entirely without recourse. I should know… I came frighteningly close to succumbing to it myself, but the information patterns are not so different from the notions behind words of power and my own Existential Speech skill. I was, if barely, able to counter that vile pattern of information with my own words. It can be reversed in tandem with mind magic, and… with the help of someone who we should have consulted far more extensively.”

“Information: subject experiencing regret. Solution: proactive movement towards future positive outcome to avoid fixation on prior user error.”

Physically, there was something quite out-of-place when it came to a metal-laden being walking halls of living wood in Ildisiar. But Orodan felt in W78’s soul, that greenery and nature meant something to it. Perhaps being out of the metallic planet of X2 was a good thing.

“W78, you’ve come,” Zaessythra greeted. “Have you uncovered any way of salvaging this?”

“Information: Anomaly #9 carried out cleansing mechanism upon afflicted sub-anomalies. Current odds of reverting sub-anomalous status - high. Proto-unit previously unaware of such possibility. Proto-unit is also… experiencing elevated surges in social sub-systems, section - gratitude,” W78 spoke. “Solution: express thanks to Anomaly #9, friend - Orodan Wainwright, for termination of Anomaly #3.”

Orodan simply gave his metallic friend a slow nod of acknowledgement. Anomaly #3 hadn’t even been that strong. But that being said, he was not blind to the numbering classification. It implied that there was still an anomaly #2 and an anomaly #1 somewhere out there. Who knew how powerful those would be or if they even fought the same way as that strange creature did.

“It fights like a weasel, avoiding direct battle. Slaying it was my pleasure. But the issue of our infected yet remains,” he spoke. “Can you heal them?”

W78’s lights beeped in a manner which Orodan had come to learn was the equivalent of a nod.

“Recovery procedure… initializing. Post-memetic exposure recovery protocol… beginning. Requesting aid of subjects - Valmarra Malvorra, Alovardo Balmento.”

With that said, W78 got to work. The High-Orast nudging them towards operating upon Destartes first, which he could not fault the woman for at all.

It was an interesting thing to watch. In theory, Alovardo and the High-Orast were both mind mages. Working together, they should have had all the tools to salvage the situation by themselves. Yet, the mind of Destartes was… twisted around something. An obsession which had been suddenly taken away and the thought entirely perished.

It was the sort of mind magic wound they hadn’t seen before. But… the madman of Arkwall seemed uniquely suited to dealing with one facet of it.

“Oh! It’s just like when I first learned about the numbers! Why, just a little tweak here, and an unfurling there…”

“H-hold! You’ll cause them harm if you… if you… oh.”

Trust a madman who lived with regular Eldritch taint within him to know how to bolster someone against the madness.

Furthermore, W78 was helping guide Alovardo’s mind magic probe with the High-Orast moving to a role of support and stabilization via whispering specific words using her Existential Speech skill at critical intervals.

It was incredibly high-level mind salvage work by three of the alliance’s best specialists suited for the task. Furthermore, even before the attempt, Orodan had watched the two of them poring over notes prepared by Almyra on her own research findings into mind magic.

Needless to say, it was work which he could not have replicated alone.

Orodan had cleansed the taint within them fully, but his Celestial skill was of Cleaning, not of reverting the mind back to perfect state without knowing what that perfect state should even be. For long had he known that the user’s perception of cleanliness was what affected the skill. Which meant that in a case like this where he wasn’t as studied on mind magic and its theory of the mindscape as a formal mind mage was… he would be a liability. He could not simply clean someone back to normal unless he had a proper idea of what the end state was. And filling in the gaps with his own assumptions on the minds of allies? A dangerous thought, especially with his power. Very dangerous, as it could impose permanent changes on someone’s mind.

Zaessythra had been right to caution that he was not almighty. But, it was oddly relieving to see that even without him, the alliance was not lost. Things that he could not do, there were others who could. His killing of anomaly #3 and his cleansing of the affected minds had paved the way for these specialists to do their work unimpeded.

He glanced up and to his right to see Zaessythra smirking at him.

“Have I something upon my face?” he asked.

“The lack of that miserable scowl for one,” she replied. “And for another… the realization that you aren’t alone anymore.”

“Hmmph… I already knew that when you woke up next to me.”

His Vision of Purity carefully tracked the changes, ready to call a stop to it if anything went awry or if he had missed something and needed to act again. A reasonable precaution, but one that ended up being unnecessary as he saw Destartes’s mind unfurl at last and return to its normal condition.

Furthermore, it looked oddly… fortified. The healing by those three hadn’t just cured the old wizard, but was actively shoring the mind up. His own Memetic Hazard Mastery was entranced with how W78 was guiding Alovardo into making minute defensive adjustments to the mind. Nothing which would alter the wizard’s personality, but would instead function as a barrier against any memetic assaults in the future.

A ‘sink’ of sorts, a breaker, to prevent that mad endless loop of thought and obsession.

Valmarra gasped as Destartes’s eyes opened. Their attempts to keep things subtle and secret were thrown to the side in such a situation, and Orodan respectfully averted his eyes and skill-aided vision to allow the two their moment.

So much for the two of them trying to outwardly keep it hidden.

He heard the tentative and unsteady first footfalls of a man who had been comatose for the past two days, and a hand clasped upon his shoulder.

“Orodan…”

“Old man,” he replied, turning around. “I hope the two days of rest were enough to rest those aging bones.”

“You… are the single most irritating student I have ever had,” the Transcendent mage retorted in annoyance. “I do not even age the same way any longer. Transcendence gives a well of endless lifespan.”

Under the standard System at least. One of those subtle but hidden benefits the System provided for everyone. Plus, the regular physical conditioning that Orodan put the old mage through and Eternal Soul Reactor also didn’t hurt matters.

“Hmm, I suppose you don’t look as rickety as I remember,” he allowed. “How fares your mind?”

“I… remember seeing something. I can’t recall what, as though it was yanked from my mind outright. Your doing I presume?”

“Correct. But your recovery after that was not of my hand,” he spoke, gesturing towards the High-Orast, Alovardo Balmento and W78. “And we have more people to help recover. And given the disastrous ending to the last loop, a new plan of direction.”

#

If morale was said to be a tree, then it was a sagging one, pitiful and bowing to the wind.

The invasion of Narictus was supposed to have been a turning point for the Alastaian alliance. An endeavor where they proved they weren’t prey waiting for the Hegemony to come to them, but hunters who could seek out their own destiny and seize it themselves.

Furthermore, to many of the newly anointed time loopers, it was their chance to prove themselves heroes in their own right. An opportunity to repay the one who’d brought them into the fold. And while Orodan found the notion discomforting, he could not deny its existence in the minds of many of these people.

“I do not understand… things were going well, we were winning!” Warden Varadian Rockwood insisted. “If this wicked thing from beyond System space comes again, we shall be ready this time!”

Adeltaj and Eldarion however, were a lot more subdued. The healing process had gone without a hitch for everyone, but the underlying question of whether any marks or scars remained had yet to be fully explored. And in seeing a look of hesitation upon the faces of two Transcendents, the remainder of the gathered junior time loopers became demoralized.

Orodan could sense the spirit flagging in all of their souls. The Guzuharan section of the gathering seemed to be in the worst shape of them all.

“Ready? Lord Ozgaric yet remains indisposed! How can you say we are ready?!” the northerner hissed. “Our people have paid a far greater price than you Inuanans!”

“And who was it that comprised a majority of the force within that chamber? Which factions contributed the most?” a Republican shot back. “We had elder Adeltaj and elder Destartes both in that room. Do not presume to minimize our contributions!”

“You humans are too arrogant. Blind are your eyes to the suffering Lord Eldarion underwent for your sakes! A non-combatant! And yet he still stepped forth, a testament to what Eldiron has been doing for this world for many milennia,” an angry elven warrior coldly spat.

One defeat, and people were already pre-emptively scrambling to puff up their faction’s own contributions to the battle. From there even the politically illiterate Orodan could tell the blame game was coming. The Grandmasters and below of the alliance; relatively young compared to the Transcendents, and not willing to shift blame upwards, were desperate to throw it somewhere.

“Tch…” Balastion sneered from next to him. “They jockey to highlight what their faction has done. It does not evade anyone’s notice that the barking dogs are all middling Grandmasters who must highlight their relevance somehow.”

“And yet, that worry does not come from nowhere, Balastion,” Orodan replied. “You are familiar with the Eldritch and recovered quicker than most. Adeltaj, Eldarion and Ozgaric, not so much. And these Grandmasters and below… they feel powerless to do anything in such a situation. What else can they do?”

Once upon a time he might’ve written them off as idiots, cowards and fools. And while the jockeying and finger-pointing which was in its infant stages was self-destructive, it did not emerge from a void. These complainants were also those who had not been so keen on committing to the invasion of Narictus in the first place.

For the outcome to have gone the way it did… it vindicated them.

“We cannot lose heart!” his disciple Zukelmux declared, stepping up. “One setback, not even for our own failings, does not define us. We were winning, we would have won, if not for factors beyond our control. Why, I even slew the enemy Wight Lord in honorable one-to-one combat. If that is not proof of our rising strength and latent potential, then I do not know what else to tell you.”

Zukelmux had won then? Of course he had. He was Orodan’s first disciple after all.

Still, more people than not were discomforted by the notion of what had occurred.

“I… do not know if pressing for more attacks is the right choice.”

“The pain of death has made me realize that the warrior’s path is not for me.”

“I saw what happened to the corrupted… I don’t want to face that. I refuse!”

“We’re not all like you, goblin! And even you would be no match for that wicked thing which corrupted our elders!”

Finally, it was Almyra who whipped her hands out, causing a sharp pulse of power to hush the room.

“Enough.”

Her eyes swept the entire gathering.

“We are, for better or worse, now in the time loops. And the inclusion of so many of us has caused hungry things from beyond System space to seek entry within,” she directly spoke causing the fear to grow thick in the room. “It is what it is. Like the plague invasion of the Blackworth Collective and the Eldritch Avatar’s approach towards Alastaia, it is a fact we must live with. Something which forces the simple question… of how we will confront it.”

“Well, I for one have decided… I’m out. I want no part of it,” an Alastaian warrior said. One of the former corrupted. “I didn’t sign up for this. Nobody asked me whether I wanted to be part of some grand time loop and then see something horrid which still has my mind feeling stretched in a painful way. Keep your enemies and your invasions and your anomalies. I want none of it.”

Shocked exclamations immediately came forth. Understandable.

The woman who wanted to quit had no family, no loved ones, no real stakes. But plenty of loopers in the gathering did. Lost family and friends had been brought back by the alliance’s corps of soul mages and chronomancers, and past that? By Orodan himself. Furthermore, regardless of what any other group received from him, the Blackworth Collective were more than a little absurdly loyal to him. As were the Vylrystians whose world he had brought back and whose World-Queen he loved.

These two groups were not at all happy.

“Soft-spined little louse!” one Blackworth Collective riflewoman howled. “He fights for us and you won’t fight for ‘im?”

“I spit upon all Alastaia if this is the loyalty they show their champion,” one half-dragon growled, making a show of dirtying the floor. “If the humans of Alastaia will not fight for Orodan Wainwright, then the dragons of Vylrystia shall step to the line.”

It was a little ironic and somewhat touching that the Collective and the Vylrystians would be more openly loyal towards him than his own homeworld of Alastaia, but such was the reality. And the Alastaians could not be blamed for it when they hadn’t had their lived as irrevocably altered as the former two groups did.

Accusations turned to promises which then turned to proclamations.

They were proclaiming it to him as much as they were denouncing the unfortunate woman who just wanted out. Something that should have been the words of an individual had now become multiple factions throwing their backing towards him or arguing why they were best suited to aiding him and guiding the alliance. Funny how that worked when they were all supposed to be part of a union that should have been working together to begin with.

Hard to fault them for it entirely though. Especially when they had been shaken by what had happened and this was their own way of reclaiming some agency.

Within moments the gigantic gathering hall they were all arrayed in became the site of a cacophony of arguments, blame, deflection and posturing by various individuals to imply that they and their factions could have prevented this tragedy. That the solution lay in following their path and not others.

Furthermore, neither Tegin nor Zaessythra moved to intervene and restore order. Orodan was utterly uneducated on politics, but perhaps it was better to let them air their grievances?

“They swoop to capitalize upon the recent failure like carrion-feeders diving for the freshly slain,” Balastion muttered, a sneer on his face. “I thought I would be spared the sight of such petty politics once this alliance formed, but it seemed I was wrong. I would speak up and silence this rabble, but ‘tis not my place. One can only wonder why Her Majesty and the General have not brought order to the proceedings.”

He need not have wondered that too much longer himself, for a glance where their eyes met told him that she and the halfling General were expectant… of him to step in.

“And that is why we of the Collective are best suited to handle this issue. Our time looper, Lady Almyra, successfully contained the infection from spreading and held out until Lord Wainwright himself arrived,” an anxious but animated captain of the Collective argued.

One of the Magocracy’s leaders then spoke up as well.

“Do not forget us mage-lords of Thazrivin so quickly! The High-Orast was one of the few in that chamber to withstand that wicked corruption! Our world required no additional aid or containment.”

Which was followed by a half-dragon thumping her chestplate with a fist before loudly proclaiming her own piece.

“You humans forget the majesty of our World-Queen who fought alongside her beloved to slay one of the foul invaders herself. It is clear that we dragon-blooded stand at the very apex of power. Who else can lead from the front but us? When the warriors of Alastaia faltered in the press of battle who was it that stood and fought the werewolves of Narictus toe-to-toe and won?”

Many of the Alastaians clearly bristled at this remark, but in the faces of a number of them, the shame was evident. Orodan wanted to say that there was no stain in losing in honorable battle, but to these warriors, the half-dragon’s words cut deep all the same. Still, even among the factions of his homeworld there was a schism.

A Novarrian commander stood, face red with anger.

“Group us not with the soldiers of the Republic and the East, nor with the elves of Eldiron! Behold how our Emperor stands, tall of stature and straight of back! He was corrupted yet remains strong and ready to do battle once more! And lest any forget, it was Lord Balmento of Arkwall whose hand provided a critical aid in healing the afflicted. I say Novarria remains strong! We remain unbroken, our spirit unbent, our soldiers ready to stand alongside Lord Orodan Wainwright!”

The arguing Grandmasters did not dare insult any of the other factions’ Transcendents directly… but the implication was enough. Adeltaj, Eldarion and Ozgaric, though healed… were not exactly in good spirits. Hells, Ozgaric was still in his own dimension, recovering and wanting some time to himself after that horrid ordeal.

It was entirely understandable too. But from the perspective of the Grandmasters and below here… it made their respective factions look weak.

And in emphasizing the success of Zaessythra, the survival of Thazrivin’s High-Orast and the swift containment orchestrated by Almyra, the speakers were indirectly leaving a question open.

What had Adeltaj, Eldarion and Ozgaric done besides get corrupted and then fail to stand straight afterwards?

The loopers from the Republic, the Eastern Kingdoms, Eldiron and Guzuhar were not happy about that insinuation in the slightest. And from the sudden narrowing of many eyes and swift reddening of some faces in anger, it was evident that the situation might even escalate to drawn weapons and offers of a duel to defend the honor of their Transcendents.

But Orodan had heard enough.

“I died tens of thousands of times.”

His words were not overly loud, though the weight behind them silenced the hall.

“My lord, that is a different matter,” the Collective captain who argued earlier defended. “The chroniclers’ records are clear. Never once did you falter, death after death. Your faith in your friends, in your comrades and the debts you held yourself to… not once did it shake. How can that be compared to this woman’s insistence upon withdrawing after a single setback?”

“You defend me more than I would defend myself, captain. I too have faltered. That dark pit of endless will I nearly lost myself to when facing true death for the first time long ago, it struck fear in even me. I am not some almighty God the way you all seem to view me.”

“Better you than a God who hides in his own realm! I’d rather pray to a shrine of Lord Orodan Wainwright!”

“He fights for us! He dies for us! He gives our loved ones back to us! If I’ll pray to any God let it be the man who isn’t even divine!”

“Ozgaric at least went forth to face the foe! One cannot fault the northern God for fighting fair and true even if it ended poorly. Where was Malzim? Why do we have temples for the God of Death if he won’t even stand before the worst of our foes?! Where was Halor? Why was he not in that chamber?”

“Aye! We of the north weep as our God remains in solitude, why should we be the only ones bleeding? Where were the soft Gods of the south?!” Yarostov Iron-Bear angrily demanded, many Guzuharans agreeing and savoring the opportunity to defend their honor.

No matter what he said, these people had three or four counters for it. Orodan wasn’t sure what Zaessythra and Tegin expected of him here, but those among the loopers who supported him weren’t about to change their minds all of a sudden. If anything, this was only entrenching them further in their beliefs.

Words and persuasive arguments were not his strong point. And to sit here and use Stubborn Persuasion felt… wrong. He needed something at least, a base upon which he could be right, to stubbornly argue against them all. Here… he could not even blame them for thinking as they did.

Malzim, nearer to the back, with his domain of Death wrapped around him, could only lower his head and accept the words as they came. As did Halor. Even the proud elven divinities seemed angered, but subdued, the beginnings of shame upon their faces.

“Enough,” he said, silencing the clamor. “I… will not seek to change anyone’s mind. But know this. I would not be where I am today without Malzim helping me at a critical juncture. I would not have been able to learn many of the important things I did without the Blessing of Ozgaric long ago, or without the help of Faraine against the Eldritch Avatar. Adeltaj was my first mentor and Eldarion an important ally without whom many of these recent Transcendents would yet remain Grandmasters. Does a single defeat erase the good they have done?”

At this, the crowd looked… contemplative, so he continued.

“When I faltered, Zaessythra was there for me. When many of you faced bottlenecks in your advancement who was there for you with a gentle word?” he asked as he pointed a hand to Eldarion. “Which old halberdier stood in the front rank to face the worst of the enemy’s Transcendents so you did not? Which God of Death helped bring your loved ones back? Which northern God took to the field on the front lines to strengthen his followers’ Blessings? Trampling upon your allies’ integrity when they falter… is pitiful.”

[Stubborn Persuasion 8 → Stubborn Persuasion 12]

Murmurs of assent began. Some who had been loudly critical found themselves with looks of shame upon their faces, guiltily glancing towards those they had tried shaming. Others met them with looks of regret and the beginnings of newfound respect.

“I did not bring all of you into the time loops so you could waste your time and potential with pointing fingers. The entire purpose of this was so that all of you could seize your own destinies. If you have time to point fingers, then you have time to better yourselves. And if people wish to fight no longer, then that is their choice, do not shame them for it. The loops were never meant to be a cage, but an offer,” he spoke. “And if you must blame anyone for this… then blame me. I was supposed to have protected you from this, I failed. I shall not flee accountability for this failure.”

Some looked shocked at the notion that he could be at fault for anything at all. It was a notion he was growing increasingly uncomfortable with, but could do nothing about.

“But my lord… you… you cannot be blamed… you’re… you’re the-”

“The time looper? The stubborn idiot with more desire for battle than sense in his head? The rockhead who Gregory Hannegan wants to beat over the head with a stick?” he asked, breaking some of the tension. “I am not a God. And we have seen that even our divines are no less vulnerable than we are. No… I am just a man. One who has struggled and bled and been given something nobody else had until recently.”

“I cannot abide by this! You have given us so much! My daughter is returned thanks to you! To lay any blame at your feet would be…”

“Ungrateful? Then ask why you would lay blame at the feet of those who’ve helped you all this time and have only now stumbled,” he said. “I have failed. I have been failing for a long time now. But failure is not the end, it is instead, another barrier to surmount. And personally…”

“…it’s one I intend to crush with good training.”

[Stubborn Persuasion 12 → Stubborn Persuasion 15]

#

“For someone who claims to know nothing about politics, you certainly did deliver a rather rousing speech.”

“I simply spoke my mind. The consequences of it and how they took it is their business.”

“Tegin says he’s seen measurable improvements in productivity since then. A rather useful institution, his Department of Looper Affairs. Even Eldarion and Adeltaj seem a little less sullen, and I hear Ozgaric actually made an appearance in public for an hour yesterday after that.”

Orodan rolled his eyes at her.

“You could have delivered said speech yourself. Better a many millennia old World-Queen than a warrior more used to blood than words,” he replied. Though he wasn’t complaining about the skill levels gained in Stubborn Persuasion.

“You and I both know they needed to hear it from you; Tegin agreed as well. Before that, you were the enigmatic and mysterious time looper. Always training, solving some problem or preparing for the next one. The times you spoke directly to all of them were… rare. Better they see you as a person than a myth and force of nature that’s written of in those chronicles.”

“I suppose being able to dampen the weirdly reverential culture around me is a good thing. Now that they know I can fail, perhaps they’ll be less… zealous in their defense of me.”

She let out a sharp and amused laugh at that.

“Oh, Orodan. If you thought that speech helped with that problem, then you’re even more of a rockhead than Gregory thinks you are.”

He frowned.

“Explain.”

“The ones who were weirdly reverential of you didn’t change in the slightest. If anything, from what Tegin tells me they’ve begun holding meditations on sections of your chronicles from time to time, to see how they could better themselves and what lessons they can learn from it.”

“You… you jest. This is no amusing joke.”

“A jest? The fact that it’s true makes it doubly amusing,” she said with a smirk. “You, Orodan Wainwright, have people giving sermons about you. Yes, they call it meditations or ‘character studies’, but you and I both know those lines are easily blurred. Especially if you see the looks on the faces of some of those who revere you. Your admission of fault was seen as a good thing in fact. Very honorable.”

“I hadn’t even intended for it to be seen that way!” he exclaimed, exasperated. “I just spoke the truth!”

“Well, try being a little less honorable and heroic then. Before all of this new chaos, you were a mighty warrior. One capable of some rather absurd feats, yes. But a warrior all the same,” she elaborated. “But with tens of thousands in the time loop who now regularly see what you do on a daily basis? You seem more of a larger-than-life figure, a myth come to life, than a man. Even with your supposed failures included, that does not change. In fact, your stint at accepting the fault has caused even the rather non-theistic sorts of the alliance to begin holding greater faith in you. Congratulations, you’ve successfully acquired even more followers.”

The palm of his hand met his face. What madness was this? He had not asked for any of that.

“And what am I supposed to do with this now? I have no interest in parading around like some deity.”

“Nor should you. I simply wished to tell you so that it did not blindside you at a later point,” she spoke, then the amusement in her pretty eyes shifted to something like sympathy. “Listen… I know that the time loops have been… rather volatile for you. Your entire interaction with the social order has been one of suddenly waking up from ground zero with ridiculous power carried over to each loop. People looked at you with more shock and wariness than they did awe and respect. Natural when their Transcendents were either your enemy, or saw you as a critically powerful ally. But now you have a rather sizeable base of tens of thousands of Adepts, Elites, Masters and Grandmasters who have seen you, gotten to know you and then benefitted from you. You’re not even that old in the grand scheme of being a Transcendent let alone an Embodier. It does not surprise me then, that this is new to you.”

“You’ve dealt with this sort of thing before?” Orodan asked.

“Very much. In fact, from what I hear the other Transcendents say, it’s quite normal. The Blackworth Collective even has a doctrine that forbids their Transcendents from enabling or allowing any worship of them. Why, back in my day, I was regularly prayed to while just a Grandmaster. Being World-Queen tends to have that effect,” she explained.

It lined up with what he remembered seeing on Vylrystia when he and Destartes had gone there on an expedition. Plenty of murals and temples which depicted Zaessythra and her rebellion, portraying her as either an apocalyptic force from the perspective of the tyrannical dragon purebloods, or as a savior and liberator from the perspective of the half-dragons.

Hells, entire sections of her newly restored citadel were shrines where her people could come pay respects.

In fact… even on Alastaia, the Tomb of the First Emperor in Novarria did a similar thing for Balastion. People came by, paid respects, said a prayer and sometimes even asked the first emperor to bless their efforts.

It wasn’t the same thing as praying to a God, especially since Balastion was still alive and very much not divine and thus incapable of giving out Blessings. But… were the two things really so different?

“You see it now? You are not so different from a God. Superior in fact. At high levels of power, the line between divinity and transcendence matters very little. You smite their enemies, heal their wounds, bring back their loved ones and protect them from higher order dangers which they cannot handle. Whether or not you lean into it, their belief in you remains, colored by your power and your deeds performed with that power,” she elaborated. “You are young, Orodan. And you also do nothing but train and run from one fire to the next, putting it out. Almyra and I speak often; she would be the first to tell you how exhausting it was in her early loops as an Embodier when everyone insisted on praying to her.”

“Of course… if even Transcendents are prayed to, then an Embodier would have it worse…” he muttered, and then looked her up and down, his eyes narrowing.

“Oh? Looking me up and down are you? You’ve seen me in far less already, no need to be shy,” she teased.

He felt his face hear for the most infinitesmal of moments before shaking his head to clear it.

“Not that. You. You’re not a Transcendent anymore, are you?”

“Me? Now what would make you think that?”

She was playing coy intentionally, because why wouldn’t she? This irksome dragon loved nothing more than getting under his skin and drawing him into ambush after ambush. Be it verbal or otherwise.

“Before your restoration, the last time I saw you fight, you were in full dragon form and still lost against Almyra. High-Transcendent perhaps, but nothing more,” he calmly spoke. “And now, since returning, you’ve caused an Administrator grievous harm on two occasions and even slew an Anomaly from beyond System space.”

“Well, I didn’t exactly get an Anomaly Slayer title for it.”

“Invader Slayer, in fact,” he corrected, her words confirming his suspicion. “You don’t have a System any longer do you?”

“Did I ever truly need one when I’ve been without for so long?” she asked, hand resting on the pommel of her greatsword which was point down in the dirt.

They were in the deeper woods of Eldiron, having stepped away for a minute via Dimensional Step to speak in private.

Good.

“I said to you at the start of this loop that I had a lot of questions,” he said, eyes narrowing with excitement. “But sometimes I think those are best asked in the universal language.”

“Then feel free to ask away,” she replied, her smile turning predatory.

Fighting on Eldiron wouldn’t do. Orodan quite liked the wisdom trees and the elves for they had taught him much.

He moved first. A simple spearing lunge of a tackle, one whose sheer explosiveness caused the nearby hundred miles of terrain to quake.

She was no embroidering princess, but a World-Queen forged in war. Even then, the sudden and brutal speed of it caught her just at the edge of her reaction time as his arms still managed to wrap around her legs.

[Dimensional Step 52 → Dimensional Step 53]

His Dimensional Step took them both into a familiar place… that same null dimension where he’d fought and slain the Prophet two loops ago.

He was mid-motion considering chaining grapples to get her into an unfavorable position when suddenly…

…he felt the single worst pain he had ever experienced across all the loops.

Something horribly twisted within him. Not just his soul, not just his mind, his… entire being, skills, levels, memories, philosophy, will… everything he was.

Turned inside out, turned against him. Pain, agony and suffering of a sort that threatened to make his mind go utterly and entirely blank. It was infectious too… and he felt that same creeping plague of corruption. Not the memetic sort… but the first wicked infection he’d ever faced.

Eldritch. Not entirely it, but a horrible pain which spread as virulently as it.

For a moment, he nearly lost himself.

And then…

[Incipience of Infinity 176 → Incipience of Infinity 177]

…his power flared.

Eyes blazing, soul energy erupting in a display which caused even this strangely durable dimension composed of absolute non-existence to briefly shake, Orodan threw off that horrid talon from within him. Though the cost of doing just that was incredibly high.

Zaessythra’s eyes were full of concern.

“I… hadn’t intended to do it that hard…”

He shook his head.

“No, this is good. Very, very good. I haven’t felt pain like that… in a long time. It feels like… that thing, a direct and unguarded hit from it,” Orodan said, recalling his brief brush with that sadistic Boundless One. “Heh… I suppose that answers my first question. You received a semblance of its power didn’t you? No wonder the Prophet sounded as though it wanted to die rather than experience a moment more of what you did to it.”

Zaessythra simply smiled, flicking her greatsword out to cause waves of sickening pink and purple/grey energy to erupt in arcs.

“More than just that. I… do not think I am entirely half-dragon anymore.”

“I didn’t see any anomalies in you from your restoration, your flesh and bone are no different,” Orodan noted.

“Yes, but my soul… it’s as though the fundamental substance I’m made of is no longer what everyone else is made of. I can call upon this power freely, while it does not harm me at all. And its sheer potency, if it can do that much to you of all people…”

“Little wonder you slew that anomaly then. And why it called you a sibling,” Orodan finished. “Well… this is some of the best sparring I’ve had since the loops started. I doubt anyone in the Alliance, neither Alagameth nor Almyra can push me quite as far as you have. I have only one question then…”

“…shall we continue?”

#

“I see you’re still quite well… somehow. You have a talent for escaping trouble which befalls everyone else.”

“Though I’m afraid cannot say the same for you. You look as though someone both beat you like a misbehaving pet and then presented you a gift afterward.”

Could Orodan be blamed for that? One moment he had been fighting Zaessythra and had her on the backfoot. It was an excellent spar. Her natural style of using pain to draw him into feints, traps and goading him into charging over and over was… frustratingly effective. If anything, there was nobody else whose entire style was tailor-made to counter him in melee the way she could.

She was truly mighty and without a doubt the second strongest member of the Alliance. Still, he held the one major advantage of having endless power. Eventually, he would win, and he had been slowly but surely pressuring her into a corner and towards exhaustion. Or so he had thought until he had tried Wrestling once more to finally end the battle.

That had led to a most dishonorable and underhanded victory for her. A fact driven in as he he pointedly avoided her far too jubilant gaze from across the room while she spoke with Almyra.

“That is… not an inaccurate descriptor,” Orodan admitted shamefully.

Talricto looked at him for a moment, and then shivered as though comprehending something vile.

“Crass two-legged beings…” Talricto muttered, the spider’s frame shivering in repulsion. “Moving past that, thanks to your premature end to the last loop we did not get the opportunity to venture to the place I wanted to visit.”

“Ah, right. Forgive me. Before I do anything else this loop, we should set out,” Orodan replied.

“Good. See that you do. There may be interesting things where we are going that even a brute such as you would appreciate,” the dimensional spider replied.

“Given the recent problems we’ve encountered, can we afford such a thing?” Alstatyn asked, walking up next to them. “How long will that venture take you? What are the risks?”

“The venture will take less than a few hours. Even shorter if we are received… poorly,” Talricto answered. “No risks when my favorite oaf of a student will be tagging along.”

Orodan still didn’t know exactly where Talricto wanted to take him, but he would not pry unless the spider wanted to say.

“I see, forgive my worry. The recent events which have impossibly carried over from the last loop still have me rattled. The thought of permanent consequences which persist between loops is… disquieting,” the King of the Collective admitted. “And to now think that we might have to sally out far beyond our known galaxies…”

As if on cue, Almyra whipped her hand and caused a gigantic canvas to descend onto the table. There was… a lot of detail. Over three-thousand galaxies altogether. And at the edges, a strange shimmering barrier.

They were within the war room of Anthus. Not an entire gathering of all loopers this time, but a smaller group of just those in the cosmic know. To discuss findings and then present them to the entire lot of them afterwards.

“Courtesy of your student, Parthus Edrosic,” the previous looper spoke. “This, is a map of the known cosmos. Or as we know it, System space.”

“And these,” Zaessythra said, pointing to several breaches in the shimmering barrier. “Are now our problem. Or rather, a problem we have grossly amplified beyond the Administrators’ ability to handle. As our resident expert, Alovardo Balmento says, a majority of these breaches are quite new. All caused by the sudden inclusion of tens of thousands of time loopers. Some perhaps even caused by your original takeover of the time loop mechanism itself.”

“We’ll have to around plugging each breach then?” Orodan asked. “I could potentially use my Domain of Perfect Cleaning to seal the barrier.”

“That is one option,” Almyra nodded. “The other, is to continue developing the abilities of your disciple, Fenton Penny. Or even Parthus himself, whose skill continues to grow at a ridiculous speed. We are not without options. Even Gregory Hannegan may be capable of contributing to sealing the breaches with enough support. But the sealing is not the issue… the Invaders are.”

Invaders.

Anomaly #3 he’d slain had been one of them. Predators from outside System space altogether. And if that weird thing had been any indicator, who knew what others of their ilk would look like?

“Ordinarily,” Alagameth spoke up, hanging from the ceiling. “The Administrators should be capable of dealing with breaches and Invaders. But the Custodian who is primarily responsible for sealing breaches, has been entirely absent. Your theft of the time loops has likely kept him busy. And with him nowhere to be found, the others face an uphill battle.”

“The Reject hates the System,” Orodan began. “And I slew the Prophet recently. Which means only the Warrior and the Mage are left to handle the mess. Damn… this truly is a problem of our making.”

Was that why the Prophet had been so insistent on taking back the Administrator’s Mantle from Almyra across all these loops? So that it could bestow it upon a worthier recipient and perhaps get some help in the task of defending System space?

The more he learned, the more such actions made sense. Even if Orodan hated the zealot and took grim satisfaction in separating its head from its shoulders, he had to admit that it was a critical part of the System’s defense.

“It’s up to us then,” Orodan declared.

“And of course, the Alliance will still be concurrently resuming their invasions of Narictus and their general activities in self-development and funneling resources towards your training. Our work does not suddenly bring a halt to theirs,” Almyra spoke as she tapped a finger on a specific node on the shimmering barrier between System space and the outside. “But for our part… we shall have to make for Glyphbreaker Node. One of the central fortresses on the barrier from where the Administrators and their hired mercenaries and other helpers who do not wish to see System space fall often convene.”

Orodan looked forward to it.

Especially if the drawing of the figure atop said fortress was accurate.

For a long time now had the two of them fought or been opposed to one another. Yet, given their common goal of protecting System space and the innocents within it, that needed not occur.

Perhaps…

…perhaps it was time to start working with the Warrior instead of against.

All for the shared purpose and new goal of defending System space.