Nate stood slowly as the pressure of Kali’Terra’s presence washed over the room. Fili remained on the floor, either in shock or simply unable to rise in the presence of the far more powerful being.

“I take it our agreement needs to be revisited now that I am without a Class Core?” asked Nate.

“YOU ARE CORRECT. WITHOUT THAT CONNECTION, YOU ARE NO LONGER BOUND TO FINISH THE TASKS I HAD HOPED YOU WOULD COMPLETE. A NEW AGREEMENT MUST BE FORGED.”

“How would that work? Previously, your Embodiment would force me to fulfil my part. Now, that enforcement is gone.”

Nate had a pretty good idea what the answer was going to be but he wanted to make sure the understanding between Kali’Terra and himself was abundantly clear. Without Reciprocity to enforce it, he could violate the agreement, which should leave him open to a direct reprisal from The System. After all, Kali’Terra’s Embodiment of Reciprocity meant it would always seek balance.

“VIOLATION WOULD ALLOW FOR REDRESS OR, IF I HAD NOT YET FULFILLED MY END OF THE AGREEMENT, THE DEBT BETWEEN US WOULD BE REDUCED TO EQUAL WHAT YOU HAD ACCOMPLISHED.”

“And how do we determine a balanced agreement now…since you probably shouldn’t still be in my head…”

“THE PROTECTION YOU HAVE CREATED TO DEAL WITH THE DECEASED INDIVIDUAL KNOWN AS PERENTHIA ALSO PREVENTS ME FROM UNDERSTANDING YOUR DESIRES. OUR AGREEMENT WILL BE BASED ON WHAT WE BOTH WANT AND ARE WILLING TO GIVE.”

“And what do you want?” asked Nate.

“THE SAME AS BEFORE. FOR THE ITEMS DESIRED BY ARIKANVIL TO BE KEPT BEYOND HIS REACH. TWO REMAIN. WILL YOU ACQUIRE THEM AND REMOVE THEM FROM THE BOARD?”

Nate noted how Kali’Terra didn’t push for Nate to destroy the items. Only to keep them from Arikanvil permanently. So, the question was, what did he want? He wanted Kiri free of her Class Core. Frick and Wulfgar too, but that could wait until the pair of them had achieved a Vessel and raised it appropriately so they weren’t easily targeted by stronger powers. So, did he let his debt accumulate so he could free more people, or ask for things he needed? There was something now that he thought about it.

“Do you have a separate agreement with Kiri for these things or are you pooling our debt together?”

“TOGETHER. THE TASK IS THE SAME. YOUR CONTRIBUTIONS ARE ALIGNED. THE DEBT IS POOLED.”

“I need a Nascent artifact for Enduring then. Once we acquire the second item the debt will be balanced when Kiri has her Class Core removed and you provide a Nascent artifact for Enduring.”

That should make sure his sister was able to pass through the bottleneck as well.

“AGREED. I WILL RETURN ONCE YOU HAVE ACQUIRED THE SECOND ITEM AND WE CAN DISCUSS OUR TRANSACTION FOR THE THIRD.”

The presence didn’t fade in like it had arrived. Instead, it simply vanished, the pressure easing up. Nate felt Fili breathe for what felt like the first time since The System’s arrival.

“That… that was THE System… right? Right?!”

Nate nodded. “Close enough. I suspect it was a projection which only carries a portion of its true power. I’m told its real body, or spirit I guess, is significantly larger.”

In fact, Nate knew from Ankh’s own words that the actual spiritual body of Kali’Terra was larger than a planet and was hidden somewhere within the Spiritual Realm. Hidden because it didn’t want to be bothered was Nate’s guess, rather than any sort of fear. After all, it was the most powerful being in their Reality.

Fili flopped back down onto the ground and Nate watched the diminutive woman try to recover from the revelations she’d been made privy to. As for Nate, he returned his focus to his Created Space and the prison he was preparing for Vicoli. It would take the rest of the day at least to complete the first version of the prison. Then Nate would expand it from there over time. After all, he could split his focus many ways now, so casually crafting his inner world was always an option.

“How do you think they’re doing?” asked Fili from her prone position.

Nate glanced at the space where Wulfgar and Jak had been.

“Honestly, they’re probably having a terrible time of it,” replied Nate, as he recalled his own challenge to form his Divine Vessel. “Better not to think about it. Let’s go join the others and make sure Frick and Luci aren’t destroying the place.”

Fili joined him as he left the room to go see what trouble the others were getting up to and to give Gwen and Kiri some space.

*************

Wulfgar was having a horrible time. He hung in a space of absolute darkness, unable to see his own hands, let alone his surroundings. Beneath his feet, he could feel solid stone and, on his skin, a not so gentle breeze that ripped and tore at his body so much that he constantly felt under threat.

Wulfgar had been to one of the Hells. He’d fought demons beside Nate and Kiri. This place was worse. This was his nightmares made manifest. To be unable to see and have his sense of touch limited to one of discomfort ranging all the way to pain. It was overloading one sense while completely denying another. His sense of hearing told him he wasn’t alone in this space either. Gentle whistles and ruffles of things moving beyond his sight kept occurring, sometimes nearer, sometimes further away, but their presence was a constant reminder that he could be attacked at any time. He shivered in fear.

The only anchors he had left were the gelatinous bloody orb in his left hand and the crusty dried fragment of a sword in his right. The crust on the blade was dried blood and, according to Nate, it was also a Peak-grade blood artifact that contained a hint of death. Wulfgar had found them waiting for him when he’d first appeared in this realm of darkness.

“I will tell you what this place is,” came the hissing voice of the ancient dragon. “This is a very specific corner of my cultivation chamber. It is the place where light is destroyed. A realm of pure darkness. And pure darkness is the home of horrors and nightmares. They may not be able to speak, or even think, but they do hunger. They can taste your fear, aspirant. The question is, what will you do in the face of your own shortcomings? Of your many fears? Will you conquer them, finding your courage once more? Or will you become it? Basking in your fear as a reminder that while it exists, so do you? The choice is yours, but I will leave you with this warning. If you do not choose, and come to embody your choice, the spirits I keep here will devour you. Find a Path - or become food for it.”

The dragon’s voice vanished and, in its place, the sound of shuffling in the distance began to grow closer. Wulfgar felt a cold sweat forming on his rough skin. Fight his fear or accept it? He had lived with his fear for so long that the choice almost didn’t feel like one. Instead of fighting it, or trying to place himself above it, he let his fear fill him. Courage was for those who conquered their fears. He was old. He’d been old a hundred years ago. And always his fear remained. Fear of the unknown, of those stronger than him, of losing all he had achieved. The list went on and on. That list of fears slowly filled him as he called them up one after another, memories of his many years, his many battles, his losses, and his triumphs.

He became his fear and the blood artifacts in his hands began to dissolve as the Divine Energy climbed into his skin. Around his hands coiled wisps of darkness as the spirits of nightmares and horrors came towards him, finding a kindred spirit, filled with terror.

*************

Hrung’Jak had no idea what the black and red skinned humanoids were saying. They had cheered when he arrived and, so far, all he’d managed to convey to them was his name. Then the beasts had come. Mythic-tier insects the size of trees moving like a wave towards the wooden walls of the city Jak was tasked with protecting. And protect it he would. As the mythics attacked, Reciprocity vanished. Jak was free to fight them. Leaping from the wall, he waded into the insects' forces, his titanic shield in one hand and his battleaxe in the other.

Hour after hour he moved to where the fighting was the most violent, to wherever he needed to be to spare the native people as he defended the walls of a city not his own, of a people not his own.

Jak was not a deep thinker. He was an orc of decisive action. Friends were to be given the utmost respect, the weak were to be assisted, and enemies were to be shown no mercy. With his axe cleaving through another insect's carapace, he had stayed true to those values. The battle had gone on for hours and, so far, the wave of mythics had yet to breach the walls. Purple blood covered Jak from head to toe. Along the line, Jak could see other champions of these people who, like him, had held the walls.

From the forest marched larger insects who collapsed trees as they moved towards the city walls. Jak could see how their gigantic mandibles would easily be able to cut through trees and, likely, the wooden palisade surrounding the city. These insects were not mythics and Jak could sense in them a fellow Lesser Divinity. Without a thought to the contrary, Jak raised his axe and charged.

The ensuing fight was bloody as Jak’s enemies seemed to prioritise durability and strength. He’d lost his shield somewhere in the fight, the mythic tier materials unable to survive the insects' sheer might. He couldn’t remember when he had defeated the first one. He’d been struck in the head after all. But the moment he’d finished his own opponent he’d gone to the aid of one of the city's other champions. Then again after that one. He’d paused long enough to try and ask how long the fighting would continue.

Unable to understand the language, one of the city's champions had eventually understood him during a short break and had pointed at the sun in the sky, then mimed it setting before holding up three fingers. Three days, if Jak was understanding correctly.

Without another word, Jak had stood and climbed back over the wall, returning to fighting the mythic-tier insects as his mind retreated. His arms moved methodically as he fought on, chitin and blood becoming stuck in his braids. Still, he continued. Every swing of his axe was potentially another life saved.

A second wave of the huge Lesser Divine insects had come on the next day. Jak lost his shield arm to them. The humanoid defenders of the city had held onto his arm for him but it seemed they could not reattach it, so Jak had them wrap the wound before continuing to battle. He was never alone on the other side of the walls, but he did note how the city's defenders seemed to come and go in cycles. They were having rests he realised. He took none for himself. Grabbing water when he could, he fought on, day and night, his mind slowly fading into delirium.

He recalled memories of the red grass of his homeworld. Of the tribes that roamed the grasslands, hunting the great Teranadons. Of the heroes of old among his people who had united the tribes. Jak had wanted to be them. To be a hero. Somewhere along the way, he had realised you didn’t need to be a hero to everyone. Just to a few was enough. A Stalwart companion. He had accepted it. The lesser honour, thinking he lacked the skill or power to be a true hero.

He realised now, as his axe moved tiredly, rebounding off one of the Lesser Divine insects while he barely avoided the mandibles closing around his body, that he’d been wrong. Wrong about what it meant to be a hero. He’d based it on those stories that he’d heard as a child, still living on the grasslands with his tribe. The stories made the heroes sound like towering existences, but had glossed over the truth. To be a hero was to sacrifice yourself for another. Even if that sacrifice meant your life.

Jak felt the mandible rip across his stomach as he was launched away from the gigantic insect. A second of its kind moved to join it. Then a third. Jak realised he was alone beyond the wall and the tide was all but over. Corpses of insects and some of the natives littered the ground in both directions along the wall for as far as Jak could see. But he was alone now. The other champions were either fallen or too wounded to assist. And three Lesser Divine beasts remained.

One-armed, bleeding and tired, Jak stood and raised his axe. To be a hero required sacrifice. Even if it meant his life.

From behind him on the walls, he heard a shout. Then another. Then a third. Slowly the defenders, a people he did not know and could not understand, began to chant.

“Hrung’Jak! Hrung’Jak! Hrung’Jak!”

Something in him shifted. His body still hurt, his wounds still bled, but power slowly filled him. Hrung’Jak raised his axe, roaring in defiance, then charged the three Lesser Divine insects as he screamed out his own name in time with the natives.

“HRUNG’JAK!”

Live or die, he would be the hero they needed.

*************

Nate sat on the edge of the room in a self-crafted chair and table as he worked over the designs for some new runes. Beside him, on a similar chair that had been grown and embellished to the point of looking like a throne, sat a humanoid Ankh’aris.

In the middle of the room Luci and Kiri fought. Luci, like Ankh, had taken on a humanoid form, with golden skin and burning white eyes, two small horns curling over her golden hair and a whip-thin tail behind her. Ankh’aris had explained that the intention was to train to fight in either form. Nate had enjoyed watching the transformation as Luci used the Concepts of Light and Form to remodel her body, while Ankh’aris had used Change and Shape. Seeing the variations had given him ideas for some runes which he was now working on.

Light bloomed from Luci’s mouth and lanced out at Kiri who, rather than avoid it, simply forced her way through it before throwing a punch at Luci. Since the World Reaping’s end, Kiri’s movement had become far more fluid, as though she’d spent years training in martial forms. The only thing that saved Luci was her speed, which Kiri was able to match with a sudden burst, kicking Luci across the room.

“This form is stupid!” complained Luci from the corner of the room where she had landed. “Four legs is better than two!”

“True, but there are times when it will behoove you to walk amongst the two-legs and you must be prepared to fight if needed. Transformations take time and leave you vulnerable. Keep trying,” replied Ankh’aris in a gentle tone. Gentler than he was with anyone else.

The pair were about to return to training when Nate noticed Ankh’s attention shift.

“Well, one of them is done.”

Then, with space annihilated by Ankh’aris, a rift was ripped open. Ankh’aris reached through and deposited a barely conscious and heavily wounded Hrung’Jak on the floor. The orc’s armour was in tatters, with fragments of what looked like chitin buried in the metal and the underlying flesh. Purple blood covered Jak from head to toe and it was hard not to notice the arm he was missing. Despite all the wounds, Jak’s remaining hand was wrapped firmly around his dented axe. Nate could tell the orc was still alive, albeit barely.

Jak opened one eye, the only one that wasn’t crusted shut, and looked up at Ankh and Nate.

“Did… I save them?” he asked.

“You did.” Ankh looked slowly from Jak to Nate. “It seems, my dear Disciple, that you have half-decent taste in company.”

Then Ankh turned towards the door and roared out “Gwen! Jak requires your attention!”

Since Gwen was better placed to fix Jak, Nate returned to his runes, a small smile playing on his lips. One more member of the Risen Sun Sect. He just hoped Wulfgar would pass his trial as well.