The grand array crackled with power, its central support structure trembling under the strain.

“You’ve done well Fenton.”

“Nothin’ worth mentionin’ ser. This’ll take you someplace far. You and the others, off to fight a cosmic war without us,” the boy grumbled. “Sure you couldn’t use a handy enchanter?”

“No. Nobody beneath the level of Transcendent may come with,” Almyra immediately clarified. “This is not just an arbitrary decision, but one which is in-line with our hosts’ laws. We head for a receiving world under the control of Azkar’s Reavers, a renowned mercenary warband within System space. They do not accept anyone too weak coming through, and our Transcendents are needed here to commit to the invasion of Narictus.”

It was a landing point the array had been pointed to after much deliberation.

The Athranos Galaxy—Orodan’s home—and the Blackworth Collective’s Vystaxium Galaxy were relatively central within the bounds of System space. But the place they were headed to, was not.

The Crimson Sink Galaxy, aptly named due to the sheer amount of bloodshed occurring there on a regular basis, was a border galaxy. It was, from what he’d been told, vastly different to what he was used to in his home locale and that of the Collective’s.

For starters, it was a warpit. Factions fought one another regularly and while there was no singular dominant faction in terms of territory, in terms of actual military power Azkar’s Reavers were the mightiest. The largest mercenary warband of the Crimson Sink Galaxy, and although they held only one world, it was this world which hosted Embodiers or Transcendents traveling from elsewhere to join the fight at the System’s borders.

Almyra wasn’t wrong to bar anyone beneath the Transcendent level from coming. If anything, rare talents like Fenton might even be more vulnerable there than anywhere else.

“We handle the pale bloodsuckers… and you handle the creepy gits outside System space, seems a fair enough trade,” the enchanting prodigy spoke.

A lot of things were moving in the background with or without his involvement. Yes, he’d given a somewhat rousing declaration on how the time looper alliance should consider conducting themselves, but that had been a suggestion, not an order.

Orodan cared as much for politics as a sick child cared for foul-tasting medicine. It was something he would interact with if necessary, but he did not care in the slightest for it.

Thankfully he was no longer alone in the time loops. The days of him having to tackle every obstacle by himself were over. Headed by Tegin and Eldarion, the Department of Looper Affairs had stepped in and adjudicated the matter, coming up with new legislation surrounding loopers who wanted out.

For starters, loopers who did not want to fight anymore were more than welcome to resign. It was a choice freely offered, not a harsh duty to be conscripted into. Immediately, some of Alastaia’s frontline warriors had accepted this bargain. Many of these melee combat specialists were decades and centuries old, many of them having forgotten the sheer violence and will required to persist in the press of melee. It did not help matters that many among this group had died and been revived over and over during the recent invasion of Narictus.

For some, the pressure of repeated death and resurrection was the fertile hotbed of rapid growth. It accelerated their learning and truly awakened the warrior spirit. In this, that sort were similar to Orodan himself.

But for another group, such a crucible could understandably crack the psychological scars already present in them. Instead of growth, it would only compound their trauma. There was no shame in this and he refused to let anyone mock those who faltered in front of him.

Not everyone was meant for fighting, and that was okay. Orodan and others would do the fighting for them.

Still, the transition led to some opportunities as well. Many of the frontline warriors who had resigned from their posts had instead taken up positions with the gunlines of the Blackworth, or had even begun learning magic to assist the mage corps of the alliance. A few had even started dabbling in the crafts. All of which was made far easier with the alliance’s knowledge sharing allowing for rapid and easy cross-training.

Surprisingly, nobody had actually asked to be left out of the loops altogether. Certainly, on the very first loop upon returning, the Department had compiled a small list of names; those who wanted out. These, Orodan had mentally noted for removal upon the Second Pass which everyone still whispered of.

After last loop however, that list remained entirely empty. Understandably, it was difficult to let go once one had tasted the benefits of the loops. Having their loved ones back, growing in skills, making new friendships… it was difficult to want to go back to not remembering anything.

Still, the option remained open, and people had all the way until Orodan decided to go for the Second Pass to make a final decision on the matter.

All this was to say, the background issues of rules, laws and logistics behind him had been handled by those more competent than he. His only job now was to move forward and figure out how to close the breaches in the border of System space.

A job he, Almyra, Alagameth, Talricto and Zaessythra were headed out on.

The five of them would be the forward force, venturing out to survey the situation and see how bad it really was and whether it could be meaningfully salvaged. After all, while Orodan fully intended to protect System space from predators outside it, the more selfish reason everyone else was along for was to prevent any more things like Anomaly #3 from getting to Alastaia.

Plus, the Embodiers being away from the actual fighting and outside of their respective galaxies helped ensure less attention. W78 had explained as much, that many of the anomalies thrived off of power. Not only had Orodan attracted the notice of one like a beacon in the last loop, but being present during a world invasion didn’t help the matter either.

Embodiers were supposed to stay out of galaxies for a reason. In healthier times, the Administrators would surely intervene. Unfortunately, his actions since becoming the time looper had caused the entire organism and scaffolding to suffer internal and external damage both. The Reject already hated his former compatriots, and with the Prophet now dead and the Custodian tied up running damage control on the inside there were only two left.

Two guardians for a sanctuary which now had several new breaches on the inside where the Eldritch Boundless One resided, and far more holes leading outside through which Invaders could enter. All thanks to him taking over the loops and then proceeding to add tens of thousands of people to the loops.

Orodan wondered if that meant he was the harbinger of the end times for System space. A nefarious thought. One he intended to rectify by helping salvage this state of affairs.

“If you’re quite done standing there contemplating the meaning of life, some of us would like to get on with our business,” Talricto spoke, sounding annoyed.

“The array is ready Orodan. It also spares us the blazing beacon of attention you would create by using any of your spatial or dimensional traversal skills across such an extreme distance,” Zaessythra remarked. “Shall we? I for one look forward to causing some mayhem on the border of System space.”

Why not? That sounded like an opportunity for some good training.

The array was a device which combined the principles of both spatiomancy and dimensionalism to allow for travel across extreme distances. The fact that it didn’t light up like a beacon for hungry things outside System space was a bonus; the gigantic structures he’d held in place were responsible for helping bleed excess energy into the world core itself.

Multiple groups of spatiomancers and a few dimensional mages from Thazrivin—the art was still rare—surrounded the array, gently guiding the connection point. Destartes and Talricto helped too, and soon enough a pathway was established.

Floaty and gelatinous were the only descriptors that came to mind when looking at the tether. Compared to Orodan’s brute force spatial and dimensional spells, this was extreme power condensed to absolute fine control without a single drop of collateral leaking at all. Just looking at the array gave him new ideas on how to hone his own Internal Counterforce skill.

Like conductors of music the two of them, spider and mage, worked together to bring the forces of spatiomancy and dimensionalism into harmony.

The tether, previously tenuous, came into fluid connection. On one side Alastaia on the other the Crimson Sink Galaxy.

Orodan was once again reminded that he was not the be all and end all of each and every skill. Even if given an endless amount of time to reconstruct this array he could not have brought the two forces into harmony like these two specialists had.

“Well don't just stand there gawking, I didn't open this tether just so you could stand and be amazed like a slack jawed fool. I have plenty of treasures and trinkets to loot,” the spider said.

“Oh come now, let him be impressed for once. He's usually the one causing that in others,” Zaessythra said.

Orodan simply sighed, trying his best to ignore the arrogant spider’s preening. Yes, Talricto had impressed him with how fluid her dimensionalism could be, but as had Destartes. Her going around acting as though it was a one-spider feat was a bit much.

Enough of that though.

He stepped forward and into the stable gateway between two galaxies. One, his home nearer to the center of System space. The other, a violent battlefield.

Passage was exceptionally fluid, as though he’d merely passed through a thin film of water without even getting wet.

And on the other side, orcs awaited him.

Yes, actual orcs.

Orodan had seen orcs before. He had gone to war against the dwarves of his homeworld for how they had treated the orc tribes who barely survived traversing the peaks of the treacherous Dokuhan Mountains. Yet, the orcs of back home and the orcs here were wildly different.

Those he knew were hardened by the struggle of survival, strong in a sense, but never thriving for their subterranean neighbors had never let them. But here? These orcs were large. Each of them, even the women, between six to nine feet in height and proportionally wide.

They were all Transcendents too, with the leader, a female mage of their kind, at the Embodiment-level.

And most importantly, all of them bore the badge of a radiant axe raised shining against the encroaching dark borders of the symbol. From what he’d read, that was the sigil of Azkar’s Reavers. The largest known mercenary warband in System space, and the dominant power of the Crimson Sink galaxy.

“A half-orc?” one of them, wearing a flared metal helmet with feather atop it spoke. A captain of the guard by the looks of it.

“No tusks. No widened bones where they should be either. He’s… human,” a female, wearing a rather gaudy dress remarked.

“If that’s human then I’m an overgrown goblin. What in war’s name are they feeding humans where this one is from?”

“Let me lock blades with him to test his mind, maybe he-”

“No. We do not duel outsiders for casual tests,” the orc woman in dress, a leader of theirs, denied.

Orodan of course, was more than happy to fight at all times.

“We can duel right here if you’d like,” he replied with an elated smile as he gestured sideways to an empty spot.

“Good! I like this one! Let’s-”

“No. And that is final, stand down Egrash-Thal. You will have opportunity aplenty to test your axe philosophy against his later. Has your mind lost its focus? Must I remind you who comes with this Embodier?”

The orc got a lot more subdued after that, his head lowering in deference and a mixture of respect and anger.

Behind Orodan, Talricto emerged through the tether, as did Zaessythra and Alagameth. Yet none of those drew any reaction from the orcs arrayed in the receiving chamber they were in.

Almyra did.

Every orc in the receiving chamber, Transcendents and the Embodier leader, stiffened. Their faces had a number of emotions visible. Shock, wariness, barely concealed but simmering resentment and most importantly… fear.

Almyra was not unprepared either. Her shroud was up. Not a physical piece of clothing, but the layers upon layers of spells he knew her to keep active on the regular before she’d met him. Neither her figure nor her voice were identifiable off sight and sound alone.

“Scourge. Your arrival is… ominous. The War-Father almost did not believe it when he heard you wished passage for the sake of joining the fight at the edge.”

Scourge? One did not receive such a name by giving out baked treats.

“Then the War-Father has not heard that the Vystaxium Galaxy has dealt with its predators. All of them,” she replied. Her guard did not lower in the slightest either. “Will there be problems with my presence here?”

The orcish Embodier cast a brief glance around the chamber. Given how tense and unhappy many of the orc guards looked, Almyra’s question was not an unreasonable one.

“No. All of you, listen well if you have any shred of honor. The Scourge won her battles true. Whether through violence or tricks, we were bested and forced out of our footholds in the Vystaxium Galaxy and beyond. It would be dishonor upon the War-Father’s name if a passenger on his road were to feel your ire,” the Embodier spoke, addressing the room. “Lower your gazes. Swallow that anger and let it temper your inner arguments and weapons’ philosophies. We shall not debase ourselves over a loss fairly suffered. For the true warrior must swallow loss as well as they enjoy victory. Without one, there cannot be the other.”

The room quieted down at that chastisement. Orodan was… moved. It was a philosophy he could very much agree with himself.

Almyra gave a slight nod to convey her appreciation.

“But we must ask. If the Collective has dealt with all of its foes… then the wicked plague? Is it perhaps the Prophet’s departure which allows you to venture forth so?”

“Departure? From the ranks of the living perhaps.” Almyra spoke and then gestured towards Orodan. “This is Orodan Wainwright. He separated the Prophet’s head from its shoulders.”

And before the room could erupt in disbelief and chaos, she added one final line.

“And he is the time looper.”

#

The news hadn’t exactly been received quietly.

The room had gone into shocked silence, then disbelief, and following that… uproar.

Not the sort where they tried accosting them, but more along the lines that it needed to be verified and word sent to the War-Father, Azkar. Apparently, there had already been whispers floating around, originating from certain individuals of power who had ways of tracking an Administrator’s status.

Of course, nobody here, lower on the scale, was going to directly go to the source and question them about it. The Embodiers capable of verifying whether an Administrator lived or had died were all either on the front lines assisting with the defense of System boundaries, or sequestered away in the deep void between galaxies where they couldn’t be found.

Supposedly, on the front lines, an Embodier going by the moniker of the Master of Death had said something about the Prophet’s death. Of course, said Embodier was notoriously tight-lipped and eccentric, choosing only to talk whenever it pleased them. And whoever fought beside this Embodier had then taken that and run with in the form of rumors.

A bonfire which had then only been exacerbated by the complete lack of any sighting of the Prophet over the last few days. A bonfire Almyra had now decided to hurl an ocean of oil onto by revealing that Orodan had slain the zealot.

All said and done, they had been given very high-quality lodgings—not that it mattered to Orodan—and politely asked to remain a while as they verified things and worked on getting Glyphward Fortress to approve their arrival. Rushing to the front was apparently a good way to receive a full barrage of defenses capable of shredding even Embodiers down to their cells.

Understandable. After all, there was no way of knowing whether an arrival was friendly or hostile, and that went doubly so in this time of great uncertainty where there were plenty of breaches in the System’s boundary.

“You know, you never told me that you fought this mercenary band back in the day.”

In fact, during a prior loop he recalled visiting a grand library connected to Almyra’s time loop. It was a library that held records of every foe she’d defeated or lost to. Valuable knowledge. There she’d explained that the world the library was upon had originally been held by an orc horde.

He had not known it then, but it was most likely Azkar’s Reavers she had been referring to.

“It was in the records of the Vystaxium Galaxy’s history. Blame me not for your unwillingness to peruse them,” Almyra replied. “The orcs were… troublesome. Still are of course, but considerably less so after a series of wars where I was forced to systemically slaughter them to the last to get them out of our galaxy. The Collective had help of course, from Kharadun Voidfortress and his dwarves. A natural enmity among his people and Azkars’. But after much bloodshed we managed to throw the War-Father and his forces out. Other galaxies managed it too, and the Reavers’ warlike tendencies have turned more towards mercenary work ever since.”

Which, given the System’s current condition, meant there was plenty of mercenary work to go around.

“Hmm… and you doubt yourself as a time looper despite that. Foolish,” Orodan remarked. “I’ve killed foes here and there. Saving a galaxy from an invading orcish warband? I cannot say I have such a feat under my belt.”

“It was hardly something I did with the wave of a hand and a spell. My personal prowess in combat mattered less than my ability to coordinate the Collective’s war machine from the shadows and support Alstatyn where needed,” she replied. “You on the other hand, are a combat monster. Azkar-Ar-Vadam, otherwise known as Azkar the War-Father, a name they so strongly insist be said in their tongue that it has bypassed System translation. I have no doubts that you can best him, especially after you defeated the Voidfortress too. But know that he will likely try to challenge you. As is his way, the orcish way.”

The orcish way, which as Orodan had come to learn involved honor, philosophy and a continuous desire to sharpen their arguments and minds as much as they honed their bodies.

“Good. I shall look forward to it.”

“Of course you will. I would not have entered the belly of the beast and set foot upon Azkar’s gate world, the seat of his power, without having you here. Honor-bound as the orcs are… it is not something you leave to chance,” Almyra said.

Alagameth and Zaessythra were looking over a map of the System’s borders steadily. It was not one provided by Edrosic, but one given by their hosts.

Unlike Edrosic’s map, this one had live, up-to-date locations of not just breaches, but notable Invaders, nodes, defender clusters, galaxies and worlds which could be relied upon to locally hold and then send reinforcements to the front. More importantly, it also showed where the Invaders had made inroads.

“Chaotic,” Orodan remarked. “I wasn’t aware galaxies and worlds had obligations to send reinforcements to the border.”

“They did not. Millions of years I have lived, witnessing the System’s edges buckle, thrive and remain resilient in the face of whatever came. A time or two I have even seen Invaders make their way inside only to be dealt with swiftly by the Administrators or their allies. But to see the map in such a state now… it defies all notions of normality,” Alagameth spoke. “Never in all my years have the Administrators called for border galaxies to send reinforcements to the nodes. And this many Invaders inside System space? We have… we have ushered in the end of the System as we know it if we do not fix this.”

Almyra viewed the situation with her typical lens of pragmatism and logic, as did Zaessythra. Talricto was more occupied fiddling with some orcish decor she had ‘found’. But the spatial spider, Alagameth, sounded very shaken.

“Have heart,” Zaessythra said gently. “We shall strike at them and begin reversing this situation as soon as we are able.”

“But… how? I have held faith in Orodan Wainwright and his absurd abilities, and still do. But to see a state of being that I have known since I was but a hatchling change in such a way…” the spatial Embodier muttered. “I have served upon the border many a time in my younger years. When I was a Transcendent, and even after reaching Embodiment. But to see it like this… every moment we spend waiting for Glyphward to approve us is… Orodan?”

He had seen enough.

“I’ll be back. Maybe,” he spoke.

“Wait! You cannot just throw yourself into the front lines! It will create a diplomatic incident!” Almyra warned, her eyes widening as soul energy began emanating from him, being poured into Dimensionalism.

Zaessythra was calmer, as though having expected this.

“It will create waves,” she calmly stated, looking at the map. “And chaos of an unstructured sort.”

“Then structure it. Be the voice in my ear as you’ve been for so long already,” he replied calmly, not even bothered by the fact that Talricto had already clambered onto his shoulder. “Let me guess… you’re coming along to take whatever shiny things catch your eye?”

“You know me too well, disciple.”

He felt Zaessythra extend a tendril of… something, towards his mind. Being borne of the combination of two Boundless clashing at full power had given her some frightening power. Capable of causing sheer agony enough that even Orodan’s mind had nearly frayed. It also gave her a unique resistance to the two Invaders he’d fought, and who knew what other odd abilities.

He allowed her to connect. But in truth, he felt that she was the only being he’d met thus far that could genuinely force the issue if she truly wanted. Not even a Boundless had made him feel as wary of them as she did.

“There we are. Just like old times, hmm?”

“You mean back when you were a book I could toss around with impunity?”

She gave him the mental equivalent of a playful smack upon the head at that.

The first place on the map that he’d noted, and that Zaessythra also agreed with, was not horribly far from the world they were upon. It was an active battlefield where Azkar’s Reavers were fighting against a particular faction of Invaders.

[Dimensional Step 53 → Dimensionsal Step 54]

His sword and shield rasped out and into his hands as a Dimensional Step carried him through. And the very first thing he felt was the sensation that his step had hit a net. As though something had noticed his entry very clearly.

Now, Orodan was now subtle master of Dimensionalism with impressive finesse. Yes, he was a Grandmaster of the skill, but that did not make him the equal of someone whose Grandmastery came about through pure fine control. His path was that of raw power.

And it was about time something caught wind of him when he entered like a charging bull each time.

An absolute cavalcade of elemental death flew right for his face before he even stepped out onto the other side…only for the subtle dimensional manipulations of the spider atop his shoulders to prevent it.

Orodan was shifted to the right, just in time for his prior position to be utterly eviscerated by a volley of spellfire.

“You might not need to dodge, but I do. Pay attention fool,” Talricto complained as she slinked off his shoulder and vanished.

Personally, Orodan thought she was full of it. He had seen Talricto use dimensional shields to block far greater assaults.

Still, with her gone only one thing remained. The fight.

It was an orcish world, that much was evident given the banners, motifs and the love for iron-braced walls, furniture and construction. But what was very much out of place were the squads of Fallen Void Archons roaming the streets slinging spells at orc shieldwalls.

They must have been quite skilled at Dimensionalism, to read his step before it even occurred and respond with a preemptive strike.

Tall. Very much so, standing at fifteen feet. Lanky, but with six arms, an elongated white head and yellow eyes which nothing else in System space really had. Orodan had seen the Prophet in its true form, and he had fought Fallen Void Archons before. But there was something notably different about these.

The very tops of their heads shone with a sickly yellow light. And Vision of Purity told him that the light was some sort of… tether, linking all of them together. Psionic power.

Psionic power which now jumped into the body of a Void Archon at the front. Its yellow eyes glowing even brighter.

The eyes of the leading one, now far stronger than it had bee before, glowed. Immediately, as though in perfect sync, two additional squads of Transcendent-level Archons eerily snapped their attention towards him, completely ignoring the orcish formations they had been hammering.

It had been Transcendent before, but from the leading one, Orodan got the vague instinctive feeling that it was now an Embodiment-level foe.

And Orodan tried using Identify.

[Invader Name: Azriyal Exvathamar (Species: Void Archon)
Title 1: Embodiment of the Hivemind
Title 2: Speed Casting Transcendent
Title 3: Psionic Transcendent
Title 4: Elemental Transcendent
Title 5: Embodier Slayer]

Invader name? That was a new one. And a Void Archon, not fallen?

“Orodan. That’s one of their leaders. Kill it and you gut their invasion,” Zaessythra spoke telepathically.

Noted. This was the prime target then.

It gutturally spoke, a series of higher and then lower-pitched vibrations aimed right at him. Orodan realized embarrassingly late that it was likely trying to speak to him, but the System could not translate it at all.

Its next series of words however, a foul and wicked speech which made the very air turn heavy and brackish, he needed no translation for.

Something under his skin crawled, as though warning him the words were dangerous. So Orodan’s shield lashed, out Eidolon of Violence crumpling the words themselves into utter paste with a shield bash.

The air warped, shrieked and then stilled as the Eidolon of Violence smashed reality to steal the very words which had been carrying upon the air.

Now that… that got quite the reaction from it.

The yellow light within its eyes glowed…

…and then dimmed.

Its soul and consciousness leapt from its body, aiming for another extremely distant one.

Embodiment of the Hivemind. It made all too much sense now how this wicked thing was meant to fight. It could descend upon any Void Archon and become it, and just as easily leave to another body.

Unfortunately, it had run into the worst possible matchup today.

It was smart to begin fleeing immediately, but there would be no escape for it.

Orodan tore through the air towards the group of Void Archons. They were good, very good. Natural speed casters whose six arms gave them an overwhelming amount of spellpower to field in any single moment. However, all that was worthless against someone whose elemental resistances were absurdly high, and whose ability to heal himself was beyond any damage they could do.

Like an inevitable apocalypse, he reached their ranks. The first four in arm’s reach died in a single swing, cleaved in one motion alone.

The Embodiment of the Hivemind’s mind and soul were on their way to the next target now, some hapless Void Archon who would be host to it. The one it had abandoned? Damaged, burnt out as though a God had run rampant in the body of a Chosen while using it to descend as Avatar.

However, the problem with it deciding to invade System space… was that it now became subject to the timeline. Something the greater cosmos didn’t necessarily have.

“C-chronomancy!” yelled a nearby orc captain whose formation was pushing forward to exploit the gap.

The enemy Embodier’s very being was nearly at its next destination when it suddenly froze. It was smart, having identified chronomancy as one of the possible paths to thwarting its escape into other hosts. Consequently, it had anchored itself by tethering multiple gigantic energy sources to its own pool. Not directly usable in combat, but for the purposes of any chronomantic tampering external reserves were so tightly braided that a time mage would have to drag them backwards too.

An impossible feat… for anyone besides Orodan Wainwright.

Its mind and soul began reverting backwards through time.

The reaction from the hivemind it controlled was immediate and very frantic.

Vision of Purity let him see through the buildings and debris to get a good view of how every single Void Archon fighting in this city suddenly rose like puppets on strings to converge on his position.

The moment he had arrived and displayed Eidolon of Violence, it began fleeing. The moment he began yanking it backwards through time, it called upon each and every member of the hive. But most piteously, there was no way for it to have known about him.

It had done everything correctly and reasonably.

But that mattered for little against him.

“Guard the Embodier! They’re trying to swarm him with spellfire! Shieldwall!” a heroic orcish Transcendent roared, blowing a powerful warhorn which had the orc heavy infantry roused to greater heights of power.

The Void Archons absolutely drowned him in all manner of spells. Yet it was to no avail as he simply weathered it. His left hand was outstretched towards the air, controlling the Time Reversal. His right, the sword arm, began lashing out and carving Void Archons apart like a farmer reaping a grown field.

They caught on soon enough, gaining a greater distance from him, but it was too late.

Orcs stepped in, using their preoccupation with killing Orodan to batter, kill and force the assaulting Void Archons back. In the now taken ground an entire unit of heavy infantry Transcendents formed around him, shields at the ready as they formed a circle.

“Embodier! Whatever sorcery you are working has them wetting the bed like whelps! Do not stop, we shall protect you!” the orcish captain declared, her warhorn blowing yet again.

It was intriguing. The horn itself was a weapon and it was apparent to him that the Void Archons’ very minds and souls were suffering some sort of harm with every bellow of the instrument.

The press of melee combat continued for a few seconds longer, though without Orodan getting involved lest he lose his grip. The Embodiment-level Void Archon whose spirit he had a grasp on was quite wily and attempting every trick under the sun to get free. A single lapse in concentration on his end and it would be away.

“Move.”

The word was calm, but it had the orcs moving quick. Transcendents didn’t get to where they were by being slow to react.

And not a moment too soon as the enemy Embodier’s being was dragged back in time and into the original host body it had first occupied when descending to survey Orodan’s entry.

Its mouth opened for a shriek, only for his left hand to enter and tear its tongue out while his sword buried itself to the hilt in its heart. A smart foe, but one very poorly suited to melee once something managed to reach it.

It tried one more time, a moment of desperation, to reach out and turn a nearby orc in order to jump to it… but this too failed as Orodan grasped it tight with Incipience of Infinity and redirected its possession attempt towards him.

A prospect that was doomed to one outcome.

#

“Grahh! I drink to your name, Orodan Wainwright! Come! Clash your skull against mine so we may exchange philosophies!”

The orcish captain, the one with the warhorn, then proceeded to empty her arm-sized drinking horn entirely… and meet his forehead, skull-to-skull, for a headbutt.

Which promptly resulted in her knocking herself out. Though, given the pleased grin on her face as she slumped to the floor, who knew if that was even a bad thing?

“Urahh! Captain’s under the table! Drink more, we can’t dishonor her!”

“More barrels of drink! We’re going to run out at this rate!”

Orodan was still relatively new to the entire ecosystem and culture of social norms surrounding Transcendents and beyond. But what he did know was that very few, if any, Transcendents of Alastaia or the Blackworth would be reveling in drink and song after a battle like this.

But that was just the orcish culture. Where even the most ancient Transcendents and the honored Embodiers beyond were expected to not just hone the body through training and battle, but also hone the mind and spirit through philosophy and celebration.

Indeed, he could see a few of the Transcendent-level orcs pondering deeply before each lift of their drinking horn, as though this too was a form of meditation for them.

Meditation before battle, the pursuit of perfection during it, introspection after it. He was a warrior himself, but wasn’t sure if he could match the sheer philosophical weight these people ascribed to battle and violence.

Still, after a battle like that and the following sweep Orodan had accompanied them on, it was understandable that everyone would be in a celebratory mood.

Grezka-Thal’s Unyielding Wallfighters. An odd name for a subordinate company of the overarching Azkar’s Reavers, but it made sense when looking at how those shield-wielding Transcendents had excelled at urban warfare and locking zones down.

For starters, and the entire point of the celebration… Orodan had slain a key Hivelord of the Void Archon collective. Because that was a thing.

The Fallen Void Archons he had seen in the past, a Gate Guardian of Alastaia, the Prophet; these were beings who had long ago been ripped from the greater cosmos and caught within the bounds of System space during its formation. However, as the Reject had once told him, there was life beyond the bounds of their little sanctuary for even he had originated from a world of cultivators beyond the System.

The Fallen Void Archons’ original counterparts then, were Void Archons. Not at all fallen, and very much part of a terrifying, linked psionic network. A hive. One whose overlords could simply think something and have entire armies of Void Archons carrying that out in perfect sync.

In killing the Embodiment-level Hivelord who had descended to deal with his arrival, he had disrupted a key part of their gestalt consciousness. According to the Reavers’ shamans, this had forced a Hivelord in charge of an entirely separate network to step in and attempt to salvage the situation. An overburdening which led to both networks doing rather poorly.

Naturally, Orodan and the orcs had been of one mind; best to strike while the iron was hot. Thus they had sallied out and reinforced other battlefields, liberated a world or two by crushing the strongest concentrations of Void Archons and caused a cascading failure in the Invaders’ assault.

Even while he had been busy running from one battle to the next, his victories had freed up large amounts of manpower and resources, which allowed for reinforcements to locally concentrate and start winning in other theatres within the Crimson Sink Galaxy.

It was astonishing how over the course of just three hours of fighting, dimensionally stepping and fighting again, the galactic map now looked dramatically less red. Though Orodan was no grand strategist, even he could see the importance of one critical victory starting a chain reaction on an otherwise closely matched front.

All-in-all, the Void Archons had actually cut their losses and retreated through the breach they entered through. Better to lose just one Embodier than risk losing another, or so Zaessythra had said. There were other fronts along the border those alien beings were present on, so they could afford to fail in the Crimson Sink.

Which of course meant the wartorn galaxy was now free to resume fighting among themselves, or in this case, provide more reinforcements to the border since there were still external foes to face. Which was why the celebration was so raucous.

“The sight of my people is new to you, time looper?”

It was the Embodiment-level orc who had greeted them upon their first arrival. A powerful mage and a leader among their kind.

“I have seen orcs before upon my homeworld. Goblins too,” he replied, noting the drinking hall was full of them and the occasional ogre. “Though not with this level of civilization behind them.”

“Ah, they had mentioned you are from a young world. It seems mundane soil can sprout mighty trees indeed,” she praised, and then her look turned a bit more serious. “You were meant to await approval from Glyphward Fortress before intervening anywhere. Barring that, approval from myself or Azkar. Yet, in spite of that you decided to just act of your own accord. You realize that could be taken as a diplomatic slight, yes?”

“I do.”

“And your response?”

“I’ll do it again in the next loop too,” he replied with a smile.

The orc stilled for a moment, and then barked out a laugh.

“You are a mad one, Orodan Wainwright. Azkar will like you,” she said, forcing a fresh drinking horn to his lips. “Drink. On the morrow Glyphward will convene and surely send word of their approval for your entry. Whether that ends with Talasgan and Kalmiron ending your life, I know not. But for as long as you are here, you are welcome.”

[New Skill → Poison Resistance 4 (Exquisite)]

Bitter, but with depth and a richness to it.

He felt Acid Resistance do some work too, but despite the new skill acquired… it was a rather pleasant-tasting drink with subtle undertones. Perhaps he could cook with it sometime?

“Look at him handle that grog! Get him more!”

“Oh, he’s on his way out… hey, let’s touch skulls, time looper!”

Orodan mostly tried to avoid headbutting the orcs lest they suffer actual injury at his hands. It was a cultural tradition of theirs, to share knowledge by impacting skull against skull.

He heartily approved of course, but felt that giving them fractured heads would be a bit discourteous.

Which led to him eventually departing the hall and making for the lodgings that had been prepared for their party. Talricto he left behind. The spider was having far too much fun regaling the orcs with stories of her nonsense, collecting trinkets and getting stupidly inebriated off the drink.

Which brought him back to where the group was before he had so suddenly departed.

Alagameth, Zaessythra and Almyra were waiting for him too.

“Good. As I expected, the festivities would bore you,” his paramour spoke. She looked as though she’d been fighting too. “Surprised? Do not be. We were hardly about to sit around drinking tea while you got work done. Apart from tactically guiding you from engagement to engagement, I was also forced to get my hands dirty.”

Though from the sound of it, she hadn’t minded that at all.

“Shame would have overcome me if I had not entered the fray while my allies fought,” Alagameth added. “Orodan Wainwright, I stand corrected. Things are not so bleak after all if you can make such a difference. Already some of my old friends in Glyphward have sent word that the Fortress is bustling with rumor and… and hope.”

Having four more Embodiment-level figures enter a sector to reinforce it does tend to help morale,” Almyra dryly remarked. “Importantly, it sends a signal that the central galaxies are not going to remain idle while the borders of System space are threatened.”

The border galaxies were used to dealing with Invaders and providing Transcendents and Embodiers for the defense of System space. The central galaxies on the other hand remained relatively untouched. Prior to the dire state of the current day, there was simply no need for forces to deploy from the center. The Administrators were not about to descend and order tithes and contribution. Not when things were fine and the borders were secure.

Orodan had upended all of that with both his time-loop changing stunts in past loops.

Now, with breaches both internal and external, and only two functional Administrators left to contribute to the defense, they did not even have the time to go galaxy-to-galaxy ordering the various factions in each to send forces outward.

“Signal or not, I doubt our little group of five will be enough. If the System is truly under such assault that the Administrators can barely be spared… then what difference will we make?” Zaessythra asked. “I am glad to sally out and strike at whatever threatens the boundaries, but it is clear that even the Warrior cannot turn this situation by himself. Orodan will still require many more loops before this can be turned.”

Almyra nodded.

“And that is certainly the main factor we will be relying upon. But do not undersell what he has done already. Even before arriving here, he slew Anomaly #3. I have perused the listings of known Invaders and their threat levels. That creature was among the top of that list. Freeing up the resources of an entire Galaxy is no small feat either.”

Which explained why Talasgan himself had come by to assist Orodan during the very first fight he had against it.

“Then let’s widen that further. Let me go out and strike some more targets in nearby border galaxies.”

“And be seen as a destabilizing force by their local powers? No,” Almyra denied. “Make no mistake Orodan, you fought within the bounds of the Crimson Sink without any reprisal because it had Invaders within, and because the local factions did not see you as a problem. Azkar’s Reavers are not the ruling factions of other border galaxies. Many of them are insular, slow to trust, and will see your sudden intrusion as an equivalent threat to the Invaders. We chose this galaxy as our arrival point for a reason. The orcs are rowdy and conflict-prone, but that also comes with them being more permissible of certain things.”

“Then we are to wait?”

“News from Glyphward should arrive tomorrow. Until that seal of approval is in our hands, we can only wait.”

Or train, in Orodan’s case. These orc philosophers and their unique methods of war had piqued his interest.

He would not slack. After all, while he and his fellow Embodiers and Talricto fought here, the Alastaian alliance was fighting back home, launching an invasion of Narictus.

#

Sword met axe.

Grezka-Thal was good. The orc captain’s axe hooked around Orodan’s sword, seeking to wrench him off the line of attack via the bind.

Of course, he had been fighting axe-wielding opponents even before the loops. That was an old trick, and a feint she had bit on.

A surge of soul energy flowed into his loyal militia sword, making it impossibly rigid and unyielding. Using it as a lever, he reversed the hook attempt and yanked her closer for a clinched grapple.

One didn’t get to the level of Transcendence as a melee combatant by having holes in their style. He was greatly holding back, but even then his flurry of blows in the clinch were ferocious.

She actually gave ground, disengaging and resetting her stance.

“A blade that is too rigid will snap. Will is the same. It must bend where necessary to allow survival.”

“Rigidity is not the concern, depth is. The thin blade must bend, the mountain need not. To bend is to compromise. Deepen your mind’s well of fortitude and compromise will no longer be a concern.”

She frowned, her philosophy computing his words.

They traded blows for a second pass, then a third, and finally he cut loose just slightly. Not in terms of power, but technique.

His previously measured and conventional approach switched to his typical style of raw aggression and sheer violence.

The orc held, for a while. Admirably too. But if warriors had to use wiles and finesse when facing monsters, then Orodan Wainwright was the monster among monsters. In a singular chain of attack, he hit multiple times. He took non-consequential blows and even used the knockback and force from them to add to his next attack.

Within a minute, even with speed and strength equalized, she hit the ground.

“Impressive,” he honestly noted. “But you do not use the horn at all.”

“You press like a berserker who even the worst of beasts would fear. But if you insist, it shall be my honor, Embodier,” she said, returning to her feet and drawing her warhorn.

The first ring of the horn cut through air and distance like they were nothing. There were no soundwaves traveling through the air which his Vision of Purity could see. Rather, it was as though the moment her lips supplied air to the implement, the sound was simply… there.

It struck Orodan’s mind and soul. He was not affected, but the power of that assault was undeniable.

“You are far surer of that than you are the axe.”

“I refuse to be a battle-drummer. My place among the band is at the front, axe and shield in hand.”

“As is mine. Yet this is also an important part of me,” Orodan spoke, withdrawing a broom from his dimensional ring. “Come. Ring that horn of battle once more. Let us see whose philosophy holds stronger.”

“Grah! I accept this challenge, time looper! May the War-Father and my band see that Grezka-Thal honors her tenets today!” she boomed. “Ancestors watch the ringing of this horn today. Heart and soul guide me and make the ring true.”

He held back. Of course he did. Erasing someone from existence with raw power and a skill level of 192 was not his aim.

But as the outbound force of Orodan’s Domain of Perfect Cleaning collided against the surging ring of this orc’s warhorn, he found himself confronted by questions. As though her philosophy was clashing against his.

Was Cleaning restoration? Or to seek a state of something more? Was it based upon his perception? Who gave him the right to bear the judge’s gavel on that perception?

He had answered these questions in the past. But now the question, angrily and stubbornly posed by the defiant ring of the warhorn was a simple one.

Did his perception of cleanliness have the right to swat aside the ideals of others?

Her horn was swift, sure and true. It refused to bow.

The pressure of his Domain of Perfect Cleaning was overwhelming, absolute. Even when held back it seemed inevitable.

Yet at the last moment, the orc’s horn turned not just outward… but inward. Drawing upon more from within.

Nobody else could have seen it, but Orodan, whose System and soul were not that which everyone else had, could see clearly how the glyphs were interacting with one another.

It was almost as though-

[Domain of Perfect Cleaning 192 → Domain of Perfect Cleaning 193]

His thoughts were cut off as a surge of raw power forced him to quickly adapt and shore up his own philosophy behind cleaning.

The collision caused an almighty wave of neutral force to emanate for hundreds of miles. Not destructive, but heavy, causing all souls caught in its wake to feel the sheer pressure of it. Not physically, but in their very souls.

And once the dust settled, it was apparent why as Orodan finally understood what had occurred within the orc’s soul.

Ridiculous.

“I do not believe in fate… but I seem to be running into Celestial skill bearers a little too often,” he calmly uttered.

It had to be something. Destiny, cosmic law, attraction between the Celestial. Whatever it was, it could no longer be called mere coincidence.

Old Man Hannegan. Fenton Penny. Parthus Edrosic. These were people who either had a Celestial skill or were on the path to attaining one.

And now, Orodan had met Grezka-Thal, whose warhorn rang with such surety in the clash against him that she had created a Celestial skill herself.

Yes, his eyes confirmed it. The glyphs within her soul were Celestial.

It was not the horn she carried. It was of good make, but ordinary.

But in her hands… it was anything but.

“What’s the name of that skill?” he asked.

“Summons of the Cosmic Captain…? Celestial? It cannot be…”

“It very much can,” Orodan corrected. “I suppose this is the point where I would start preparing for an assault from whichever power controls this galaxy. But… since that is you and your band of reavers, all there’s left to do is offer congratulations.”

“I am… Bearer of a Celestial Skill?”

He nodded in confirmation, giving her permission to actually believe it. This was no civilian of Alastaia, nor some Adept fledgling from a lowly world such as his own. Grezka-Thal was captain of her own company, a Transcendent-level warrior of Azkar’s Reavers, the largest faction of orcs and goblins within System space. She knew exactly what Celestial skills were and how extreme such an event was.

And so too, did everyone else of import within her faction.

Space warped and tore apart as the Embodiment-level orc mage from earlier stepped through.

“Grezka-Thal! What is the meaning of this?”

“Ancestor, a Celestial skill- while sparring our guest- I did not-”

“Quiet child. Ring that horn again,” the orc Embodier ordered.

The captain nodded, bringing the implement to her lips once more.

As expected, Vision of Purity allowed him to carefully note how the sound exploded without her even needing to empty her lungs. Furthermore, it did not emanate outwards, but simply came into being within the radius of her blast. It was not a wave which spread at the speed of sound, but a phenomenon which simply existed the moment her lips met the horn in sync with her will.

Frankly, just as he was capable of cleaning without needing a broom, he was absolutely certain that this orc needed no implement either.

“A Celestial… very good,” the Embodier spoke, a pleased and assessing look in her eyes. She then turned to Orodan. “A Celestial awakening another; how fortuitous the War-Father’s band is today. Orodan Wainwright, you have earned much favor among us today. We shall discuss terms and rewards with you soon. But for now…”

She sharply gestured to the air, and as though on command the fabric of space warped and a squad of orc Transcendents came forth. Heavy armor, shields and two-handed weaponry as well. A few mages among them too.

“Grezka-Thal is henceforth to be known as Grezka the Celestial. Guard her with your lives. This is not an asset the War-Father would see wasted,” the Embodier ordered. “As for you, Orodan Wainwright, come… I believe the messenger from Glyphward Fortress has delivered something pertinent to your situation.”

#

“Uriza-Vakhal, that this man is the time looper… I can believe. But to claim that he has brought tens of thousands into the loops and can now also bring in further via this… orb he carries? It defies common sense. I do not disbelieve… but I simply shine the light of suspicion upon his motives. He has done much for us, no reaver would dispute it. But should we involve ourselves in his business?”

The orc Embodier he had been speaking to remained silent as she listened to the counsel of one of her advisors.

“Your counsel is heard, Egrash-Thal, be seated,” the Embodier spoke, acknowledging his input. “It is true that these claims are extraordinary. But the past few days have been the start of an extraordinary time of chaos. What say my other Thals?”

“Vakhal. No other explanation fits as perfectly. In other times I would call it suspicious, but the rumors from Glyphward are consistent. The Master of Death has proclaimed the Prophet dead. The Warrior and the Mage fight with more… fatality.”

On the counsel went.

None of them were unreasonable or frothing at the mouth to make themselves look good. This was no elected council chamber of the Republic, but the Wisdom Hall of Azkar's Gate.

Orcs, Orodan was learning, were big on philosophy and reasonable debate. There were no frilly and pretentious nobles with more gold and inherited titles than sense. Each orc chosen to provide their input was a Thal, the orcish moniker for Transcendent. Behind them, their juniors who composed arguments, discussed among themselves in real time and helped refine their respective Thal's argument. Though, the Thals alone were allowed to speak.

Loud braying, cheering or jeering got one thrown out of the hall by force and their reputation as a philosopher called into question. It was a far cry from most political gatherings Orodan was used to and had him feeling like he'd stepped into a solemn library.

“Vakhal, to pose a more utilitarian viewpoint, the time looper has done nothing but benefit us thus far. This is not to argue we should become subservient, but when compared to the records of time loopers of the past who treated us as vermin to exterminate… the thought of an alliance is easier to stomach.”

For a few seconds, the presiding Embodier thought.

“We are not easy to live with, this is true. Our last great war against the central galaxies occurred due to the War-Father having too much drink and taking a halfling woman to bed alongside a witch. The creation and proliferation of goblins was the result. Though they are now loyal members of our band, their introduction to the cosmos did not go over well. As the Scourge can attest to.”

Almyra took no offense to being referred to in such a way. But Orodan had a spark light up in his head.

Was that where goblins had come from?

Was this War-Father… the reason for Zukelmux's existence?

The history of System space was wild and full of conflict it seemed. There was a greater context to these things, events, wars and incidents which had been ongoing before Orodan Wainwright had ever been born.

He was the last ditch effort of the Eldritch Boundless One and the Custodian to fix the rotting System from withing. But before that there had been other time loopers, other problems and many wars.

Who knew if Almyra had been chosen only for the purpose of dealing with the Eldritch, or whether the expansion of orckind across the cosmos had also been a factor in her anointment.

“We are naturally dour, proliferative and possessed of a martial inclination. Yet, we are not without sense, or honor,” the Embodier spoke. “Orodan Wainwright. Trusting in this orb of yours without any verification would be foolish. But to not extend any offer of cooperation at all after your efforts would be equally short-sighted. You and your fellows proposed using this orb of yours to transfer memories across your time loops? Very well. We shall allow you to use it upon Grezka-Thal who you elevated. Alongside a number of our shamans who do not have any critical information. The device and process must face scrutiny from our own makers and enchanters. Agreed?”

“I have no objections to this. Study the orb as you wish and implement as many safeguards as you prefer.”

It was meant as an offer of cooperation, not a trick or a set of shackles. Furthermore, the chance to hone his philosophy beside these orcs was valuable.

Orodan wasn't sure what happened past level 200 of a skill. Neither Almyra nor the orcs’ records spoke of what exactly lay beyond the peak of Embodiment. Almyra hypothesized Boundlessness, but that felt… incorrect to him. Boundless Ones were different to the limited beings of the System the same way a man was different in nature to a dragon. He had a suspicion of his own that stepping past level 200 in a skill had was related to Boundlessness perhaps… but not the answer itself.

Furthermore, he was an anomaly, a freak. It was theorized that the Warrior was at level 200 of a skill. The Administrator had to be. But Talasgan had been there for… millions of years? Billions?

In contrast, Orodan, in under a thousand years was sitting at level 193.

Almyra—ruthless as her approach of throwing an Embodier's Sacrifice had been—was not entirely wrong for doing so. She had correctly identified the critical fact.

That he grew fastest under extreme pressure.

Given all the battle which lay ahead of him, it was not unreasonable to think he would be reaching level 200 in Domain of Perfect Cleaning. And following that, in his other Celestial skills.

What would happen if he did what nobody else in System space had been known to do? What if he stepped past level 200?

The possibility of that caused in him a feeling he almost never felt.

The weight of worry.

He had nearly lost himself to Infinity and Cleanliness. And even if Violence was a core part of him, he had a bad feeling about allowing the others two outstrip it too far.

Which was why this was so important. He needed to solidify the foundations of his skills. In particular, he needed to elevate Eidolon of Violence into Transcendence and bring it closer in-line with the other two. For that, these orcs and their philosophy seemed prime material for helping him consolidate what he already had rather than just blindly moving forward in levels.

The conversation and discussion continued on for a few moments more. The topic turning towards plans of shared knowledge, skills and crafts, alongside what objectives could be hit early to establish goodwill in the next loop. Furthermore, Grezka-Thal and the designated individuals were brought in for mind transfer and that process wrapped up, with plenty of cautious and wary shamans and specialists carefully scrutinizing the process to ensure there was no foul play.

Eventually, those discussions came to a close, with Zaessythra and Almyra filing away the relevant information. Which left only one thing on the table, literally.

The sigils of Glyphward Fortress. Glimmering tokens which granted the bearer permission to travel to the central node of the System’s boundary. Or rather, some manner of identifier which prevented the defenses from all zooming in to murder someone on the approach.

“With that, I believe our talks are ended. Time looper. I would like to believe your words are true, for it is… rare that any of your kind ever cooperates with us orcs. But if they are… then may we clash skulls in your next loop,” the Embodier spoke. “If you wish for resupply before departure, our quartermasters have been instructed to help free of any charge.”

“The offer is appreciated, Uriza-Vakhal, but we have made arrangements for such things already. In fact, if it is not too discourteous, we would leave right now. Any later and I fear Orodan shall tear open a rift and sally outside the System’s borders by himself out of impatience,” Zaessythra diplomatically spoke.

The orcs chuckled in amusement and Orodan tried not to look too glum.

He wasn’t that bad. He would’ve at least looked at a map first.

His grumbling was put to the side as farewells were said, Grezka insisted he return and spar her again, and Uriza thanked him for helping push the Invader faction of Void Archons out from their galaxy.

Finally, it was Talricto, adorned in all manner of orcish finery, who opened a stable rift to the void, and without further ado, their party stepped through.

The Wisdom Hall of Azkar’s Gate suddenly turned to the pitch black canvas of the deep void.

They were still on the inner side of the border between System space and the greater cosmos, but they were so far from even the nearest border galaxy that it looked but a pinprick. And then he turned…

…and saw the border.

He had torn through this boundary to go back in once, but being in purely soul form had made his regular eyesight rather spotty. That and the sheer agony of cranking Incipience of Infinity to impossible heights while dead had robbed him of the chance to truly take it in.

It wasn’t colorful, otherwise it could be seen from the center of System space. But it certainly was massive.

A pitch black canvas which the naked eye could barely tell was any different to the void they were in. But the sheer scale of it, and the way it sealed off absolutely every approach, spatial, dimensional and otherwise… it was grand in a way Orodan had never seen across all his loops.

The tokens on them glowed, and subtle runes in the boundary lit up, revealing another gigantic structure. Or rather, a colossal fort the size of an entire star system simply emerged from the midnight veil of the boundary like a sea serpent rearing its head.

Even at the extreme distance they were, outside of the danger range of the boundary’s defenses, Orodan could still make out a single individual standing upon a forward jutting battlement of the fortress.

An Administrator.

And the spellcaster did not look happy in the slightest.

“Orodan Wainwright.”

The Mage’s voice somehow carried through the void at an entirely calm and conversational volume despite the distance.

“You have slain one of our number. And your companion carries two stolen items which belong to us,” he spoke, and then tapped his staff, causing fireballs the size of entire star systems to suddenly flare into existence beside him. Talricto shrank away at the sheer luminosity and Alagameth was prepared to flee. “I will say this once…”

“…hand over the two Administrators’ Mantles and come in peacefully.”

Orodan smiled.

“No.”