Chapter 87: The Battle for Lonvoron

The Stubborn Skill-Grinder In A Time Loop

Orodan’s eyes narrowed in concentration, even as his cells sizzled and faced eradication.

[Acid Resistance 84 → Acid Resistance 85]

The challenging part though, was keeping his body infused with the fires of the Candleflame, even as the acid invaded every part of him.

[Candleflame 44 → Candleflame 45]

Yet it wasn’t a method without gains. Dimensionalism was close to hitting the Master-level, he was certain. It was a multi-tasking challenge; cycling an elemental infusion through his body while submerged in a vat of world-devouring acid. Yet fantastic as it was for training, it wasn’t enough to push him past the threshold of the Master-level.

That he felt would come during battle.

His feet landed upon the stone floor and with a quick usage of Domain of Perfect Cleaning he made sure no stray particles of that noxious and exceedingly deadly substance could escape the container it was in.

His ally had all manner of spells, defenses and illusions upon herself, though Orodan got the feeling that number of concurrent spells was far lesser now than prior to him purging the curse from her soul. It added credence to his theory that a good chunk of her attention was devoted to just remaining alive despite that curse’s best efforts to kill her.

She was also wearing the Reject’s Administrator’s Mantle, but that seemed to be a regular fixture of hers; something she almost refused to let out of her sight. And between them, the thrum of a connection; something which had taken her more than one demonstration and much paranoid deliberation before finally accepting.

The other person in the room however, was a familiar face he’d worked with to originally create the acid.

“Mister Wainwright… have your efforts borne any fruit?” Emory Weller asked.

“Unfortunately not. Just one more level in Acid Resistance and another in Candleflame,” Orodan answered. “Perhaps with more time I might see further benefits, but that is a resource we are scant on.”

“We might be short on time, but certainly not this acid. Over the past week we’ve produced quite a prodigious amount of it… enough that if spread unchecked it could destroy whole star systems if airborne,” Emory Weller said. “I understand that Lonvoron might be facing a powerful enemy soon, but is there truly a need for this much?”

“It is just another tool in our arsenal for handling the approaching foe,” Almyra said, her voice echoing and giving away nothing of her identity in front of Emory. “You have done well alchemist, you, your house and family will be justly rewarded when the time comes. That will be all we require of you, you may evacuate with the rest.”

Orodan frowned as he saw the spell over the man which was selectively tampering with parts of his memory and knowledge.

Almyra shook her head and gestured for him to walk with her as they left the laboratory.

“The selective amnesia you induce in others is a bit unsettling,” Orodan remarked. “But I suppose it’s not outright mind control at least.”

Which in truth was the only reason why Orodan hadn’t gone about punching her in the face again. The people her mind tampering spells affected were free to do as they wished, even going so far as refusing her orders or betraying the Collective. But the spells mainly affected their perception of her and the details surrounding her.

How long her loops had gone on for, the establishment of the Collective and any details relevant to her were things nobody knew and were subtly encouraged to forget about via the compulsion effect of the spell. Paranoid and prepared for any possibility, Orodan wondered how his loops would have turned out if he had gone about them the way she did.

“You find my reasonable countermeasures against the Administrators unsettling, yet it is I who find your mad methods of self-improvement eerie,” Almyra said, distorted voice spell deactivating now that they were away from anyone else. “Do you not feel… pain?”

“Ah, I increased my Pain Resistance to the Grandmaster-level before absorbing it into my second Celestial skill, Incipience of Infinity,” Orodan explained. “Pain’s a natural part of being a warrior. Even during basic training for the militia we were conditioned to not panic upon taking a hit. Regular beatings with a club, sparring and the like. Pretty sure the instructor broke my nose on my third day too before the on-duty healer patched it up.”

“You warrior sorts seem base and savage, but the effectiveness of such a regimen cannot be disputed. But Grandmaster-level Pain Resistance? I have never recorded anyone having a Resistance skill at the Grandmaster-level let alone beyond that,” Almyra said. “If you ever do achieve that, let me know what that’s like.”

Orodan grunted his assent.

A Transcendent resistance skill would be quite monstrously strong. But Orodan wondered if Resistance skills beyond Grandmastery weren’t just capable of empowering the user with that particular element. Orodan, during the skill combination where he drew upon Pain Resistance to create Incipience of Infinity certainly recognized that the pain was actively giving him power.

Even now, the harder he churned his soul, the more power it generated, but it came accompanied with pain too. Not that this pain bothered Orodan any longer.

Then, would Transcendent Fire Resistance mean that any flames he was hit with would instead empower him? Would it perhaps help strengthen his elemental infusions of fire even further?

Well, dwelling upon things yet to come wouldn’t serve him now. Not when battle was so close at hand.

“Are our preparations proceeding well?” Orodan asked. “I ordinarily despise such ways of fighting… but with all that’s at stake, it would be irresponsible of me not to work alongside you.”

“Your stubborn pride and warrior mentality have gotten you far, but allow that strength to now be harnessed as part of an alliance. With your power and my strategies… who can stand before us?” she asked.

A number of beings, Orodan thought. He wasn’t yet on their level, but of all the Administrators he’d faced, the Prophet was likely the weakest one. And even then what was to come would be the greatest test he’d faced yet. But what if it was the Warrior who came? Or the Custodian? No plans and tricks would suffice then, but he kept that line of thought to himself.

“Your protege works upon the Mantle as we speak,” she continued. “You’ll have to remind me to recruit him right away from when your next loop starts. If properly harnessed, what terrifying potential he could have.”

“He’s my student first, not a weapon to be molded towards whatever purpose you’re thinking of,” Orodan said.

“You’ve already guided him into becoming a weapon. Do you think your presence here has not affected his destiny?” Almyra asked. “And this is my world, or do you mean to dispute that?”

“A world on the verge of falling to the Eldritch and the man Prophet leading them,” Orodan countered sharply and then soothed his voice. “I will not deny that Fenton is marching into this battle because of me, but never have I trained him for any benefit to myself. He’s free to leave if he pleases.”

“An asset like that cannot simply be allowed to move at leisure. What occurs if the enemy get a hold of him? Can you imagine how much damage a plague-infected enchanter of that talent could do?” she hissed.

“None, because my Domain would cleanse it right out of him,” Orodan reminded. “Enough of this. It’s plain to see that we butt heads on certain topics and I’ve no interest in stoking the flames of animosity if we’re not going to fight. We share a common foe, let’s remember that.”

“You are right… I apologize,” she said. “Let us focus on pertinent matters.”

Though Orodan would not let his guard down around this woman even with that. She’d betrayed him once before, and even now while allied, she acted far too much like a puppetmaster commandeering her pawns on strings. He could respect what she’d achieved in her loops while also disliking her manner of seeing people as assets to be used and directed.

It came with the territory of being a meticulous strategist and planner he supposed. In fact, that she’d told him her name and let him in this deep already suggested a certain level of trust on her end.

“Or having her back pressed against the wall,” Zaessythra suggested. “Her first plan involved beating you and tearing whatever answers she sought from your head. If anything, she remains standing for your mercy alone.”

That was a fair point too. Though Zaessythra’s dislike of Almyra was rather apparent.

“I still vividly recall her original betrayal and the fight we had after she worked with that madman to get you killed.”

“Regardless of how you feel about her, I can’t just duel the Prophet at full power and win. Not yet. And there’s too much at stake in this loop for me to just throw it away on a whim. In my younger days I might have gladly done that, but let’s secure what we came here for first.”

“Those things Talricto ‘acquired’… I trust they have been stored safely?” Orodan asked.

“In the chamber of the Mantle beneath Storven’s citadel,” Almyra answered. “Secure and behind all manner of wards and protections.”

A little too close to where Fenton was working for Orodan’s liking. Those things were far too volatile to be tampered with, even if the lad had all manner protections placed upon him by the previous looper.

“Well… I suppose it remains to be seen how effective they’ll be in our hands. They were certainly good enough against me,” Orodan remarked. “And if I haven’t already drawn the ire of their creator, using them in our upcoming crucible certainly will.”

“Perhaps, but it was always meant to be this way, no? Did you think standing up to an Administrator was something which you could do quietly? If… no, when we succeed, the entirety of the cosmos will know. The Boundless One itself will react to the death of one of its anointed beings,” his ally spoke. “Come, Orodan Wainwright, we have little time remaining and our preparations are coming to a head. Say your farewells and settle your affairs… and once all that is done, I shall come find you in a few hours.”

This would be it then.

“I suppose I should wrap things up with Fenton and his mother and father, Clyburn and Luetta as well,” Orodan said.

“Do that. And then, I have something to show you,” Almyra said, and at the quirk of his brow, elaborated. “You’re not the only one who has methods of personally advancing themselves. It’s nothing major, but it is one more piece to the time loops that you should be aware of.”

#

Orodan frowned as he carefully studied the diagrams on the table.

There was no doubt, these inscriptions were far superior to his own. But even comprehending them took effort. But with this…

“Thank you Fenton.”

“It’s no trouble ser, that’s just my take on it is all. Who knows if that thing’s goin’ to work as intended with these modifications?”

“It’s still work far superior to my own,” Orodan praised. “Who knew the machine could be modified in such a manner? With this… the enchanting part of the device should no longer be an issue.”

Orodan committed the inscriptions and their placement upon the tiny model to memory. There were a bunch of papers outlining instructions, the reasons for choosing particular enchanting methods over others and the like. These too, he memorized down to the letter.

For a long time now, Orodan Wainwright had sought to rebuild the ancient machine beneath Mount Castarian. Of course, at a glance and from his early loops he hadn’t even known that the machine was incomplete to begin with. Yet, a meeting with the Custodian for the first time had revealed the machine’s true purpose.

It wasn’t just capable of travel to the hells, but also into the very heart of the System itself.

Possibly even into the cage which contained the Boundless One itself.

Orodan’s Dimensionalism was at a point where he could travel to the hells if he so chose, but to the very bowels of the System where the Boundless One lay? Not yet. Too much interference all around that place unless he hopped onto an established connection such as a trial of ascendancy or powerful usage of an Administrator’s Mantle. Such a trip would cause massive mayhem if he tried to force the matter at least. But from the designs of this machine and Fenton’s conjectures…

“You’re sure this is meant to allow silent travel to and from anywhere?” Orodan asked. “And I do stress the silent part. Last thing I need is to cause mass mayhem and the deaths of countless people by forcing dimensional travel to the System’s bowels.”

While Orodan in theory could brute force his way there, his understanding of dimensionalism came with the knowledge that such a thing would cause numerous dimensional boundaries to collapse from the force. Elemental planes would flood into their own, the divine dimension might merge with the real world, and this would cause the mass loss of life.

“Far as I can tell. The existing enchantments on it are alright, but it’s like the creator willingly built it short of bein’ able to go anywhere silently. Using their work, it wasn’t difficult to imagine what the completed inscriptions were meant to look like,” Fenton answered. “Whoever made this, I’d like to meet ‘em sometime. They’re good, real good, but I reckon I could learn as much from them as they could from me.”

The mental image of an Arch-Devil wielding hammer and orb came to mind. While not as malicious as the Prophet or as deranged as the Reject… the Custodian wasn’t exactly a benevolent friend either.

“Hmm… best if you don’t Fenton. Getting killed would be the least of your concerns against an Administrator,” Orodan replied.

“If you say so Mister Orodan, makes our stand against this Prophet you told me about a little foolish don’t it?” Fenton asked. “Fighting somethin’ like that sounds like bad business, not that I’ll ever turn tail and abandon you ser. Miss Almyra’s real nice and all… but are her problems that deeply connected to our own?

“Not our. Mine. My problems are not your problems Fenton, as grateful as I am for your help. I can still send you, your mother and father someplace safe together,” Orodan reminded. “Why not join them today?”

Orodan had never seen Fenton as mirthful as the lad had been over the past week since his father had been brought to life. He had to pry the lad off of him plenty of times and deliver plenty of strategic head pats and ruffles of the hair in order to get Fenton irritated enough to stop being grateful. Needless to say, the lad was happy.

Of course, Fenton had a conflicted look on his face as Orodan offered a potential way out.

“No.”

“Hah! He even delivers one word responses like you do. Someone’s been a bad influence.”

Orodan sighed.

“While I’m the last person to comment on the uninformative nature of a single-word response… could you elaborate why?” he requested.

“Only if you tell me why you’re so hell bent on fightin’ the Prophet ser,” Fenton challengingly replied.

“Well, I fight because I enjoy it. But that aside, I have people to protect and debts to repay. Someone important to me requires my help.”

“That’s the answer then, isn’t it?” Fenton threw back at him, turning around to walk away after.

Orodan could only blame his own actions for this state of affairs. In helping Fenton, he’d indebted the lad to himself. The young man reminded Orodan much of his early loops self. Hot-headed, defiant and blazing with determination to help those he cared for or owed debts to. The world was big and Orodan was neither the first nor the last person to have a stubborn sense of honor and gratitude.

He wordlessly joined Fenton as the two of them walked out of the vaults beneath Storven’s royal citadel and towards the castle’s throne room. They passed a number of winding hallways, guard checkpoints manned by Grandmasters and finally entered the grand hall which was quite empty save for a handful of people.

“My King, being returned from death and reunited with my family brings me no joy if my only son now marches off to war! My little Fen ain’t even a soldier! Please! I beg you reconsider his participation in whatever operation is to come!”

A Transcendent guard flanking Alstatyn frowned.

“Watch your tone with the King! How dare you speak so challengingly towards his Grace!”

“It’s quite fine. They can speak as they wish when it concerns the fate of their son… I too would be livid if my loved one was at risk,” Alstatyn said, calming and gently chiding the guard into stepping back. “However, that does not change my decision. Or rather, my decision not to interfere with your son’s decision. To dictate what a man does in such a case would be despotic of me. And his help is valuable enough that we cannot simply refuse it when offered so freely.”

“But he’s just a boy! Not even fourteen years of age!” Fanny Penny vehemently protested.

“A ‘boy’ who has repeatedly battled the plague and been instrumental in bringing an end of the enemy’s siege of Lonvoron,” Alstatyn reminded. “He’s no more a boy than your resurrected husband is. And the brave Captain here fell fighting against the very evil his son stopped.”

“You needn’t remind me of that, of my failures towards me wife and son,” Alfred said, voice low. “I know that Fenton’s grown to become a greater man than I’ll ever be… but as a father, how can I look upon the little babe I cradled in my arms as he marches off to die?”

“Just as there’s no certainty of victory, there’s also no certainty of his death, Captain,” Alstatyn said.

“But the odds are high, aren’t they? The signs are evident your Grace, Lonvoron and the surrounding worlds are being quickly evacuated of little folk and non-soldiery. Such a thing’s never happened before.”

“Your Grace, a mere military Captain should not be questioning the proclamations of the Collective’s monarch!” the guard piped up yet again.

“Enough,” the King finally rebuked firmly, quieting the Transcendent guard. “Captain Alfred’s concerns are valid, especially since he gave his life for the Collective once already. If any reserve the right to speak freely and challenge me, it should be him. Captain, my decision to not interfere with your son’s choice is final. That is all I can tell you, but if you do not like to hear that from me… perhaps Fenton himself can tell you the same thing as he doubtlessly has many times already.”

Alfred and Fanny Penny turned to see their son, and their eyes widened for a moment. More importantly though, was Alfred’s look upon Orodan himself, who would be properly meeting him for the first time. He had been busy since the man’s resurrection and hadn’t had a chance to properly liaise.

Of course, given the tight setting of the Captain’s jaw and the clenching of his fists, Orodan didn’t think Fenton’s father was too happy.

“Mum, da, this here’s Mister Orodan, the one I’ve been talkin’ about all this-”

Fenton’s hand shot out to catch Alfred’s fist before it could reach Orodan’s face. Of course, the other hand came up similarly, but Orodan casually brushed his fingers against the in-motion arm, diverting the fist before Alfred broke his arm punching a face far harder than most metals.

“You!”

“Da! Stop! What the bugger are you doin’!?” Fenton demanded, physically moving his father backwards.

Orodan stood in place, a neutral look upon his face.

The man was decently tall, being just half a head shorter than Orodan himself. He bore the characteristic lankiness that Fenton had, though Orodan had painstakingly trained and fed the boy to rectify some of that as best he could.

“You have a good punch. Fenton’s inherited the same, though I’ll have to regretfully inform you that he hasn’t had the opportunity to clock anyone at university yet,” Orodan said, stepping up to Alfred and gesturing Fenton backwards. “Your father’s issue is with me, isn’t it?”

“Why are you draggin’ my boy off to war?!” Alfred angrily demanded. “Yes, you brought me back from the dead with your sorcery, but leave Fenton out of it! Take me instead! Whatever you need, even if it’s me dyin’ again, I’ll do it!”

“No! Not again father! Never again!” Fenton rebuked.

“Mister Wainwright please… is there anything we can say to convince you not to bring Fenton along?” Fanny implored in a gentler manner, contrasting her husband’s hot-headedness. “Surely you don’t need his aid?”

“I do not need his aid. As a matter of fact, I’m here to implore you to say something to this idiot,” Orodan emphasized, ironic coming from him. “That he might get it out of his head to join me in battle.”

“What? You mean you aren’t…”

“No. No I am not. Time and time again have I attempted to dissuade him from joining me, but he has it set in his head that he will,” Orodan revealed. “And I’m not about to knock him out and lock him in a cage till the battle’s done. Knowing him, he’ll find some way out of that too.”

Fenton’s parents now turned to look at the boy, betrayal and anger in their eyes. With all other targets of their anger now off the hook, they turned their grief and sorrow towards the only target they could.

“As I’ve been tellin’ you all this time… it’s not Mister Orodan or the King puttin’ things in me ears… it really is me,” Fenton answered. “Like you said when you left… man’s got to make his own choices in life to provide for his family, right?”

“Clever brat… using my own words against me. Look where that sayin’ got me? I died and left you and your mum behind for so many years,” Alfred said, voice breaking. “Is that what you want? Had me brought back from the dead just so you could make your mother and I grieve?”

“No da… I’ll… I’ll be back, I promise. One way or another,” Fenton said, and Orodan could swear he saw a glint in the lad’s eye. Odd.

“Let me go with you! Father and son, we can fight together! Now, I know I might be a little rusty, but I was an-”

“Even if you wanted to, you’re officially on administrative leave while the matter of your resurrection is resolved. You’re not marked as active-duty,” the King said, stepping in. “And… given how important your son is, if he doesn’t want you on the battlefield, that’s that.”

“What?! That’s unjust! Weren’t you just sayin’ how you won’t interfere in anyone’s choices!?” Alfred protested.

“I did. And I am also a hypocrite,” the King said. “Captain Alfred, your son is the greatest enchanter Lonvoron and the Collective have ever seen. If he says he doesn’t want his father on the battlefield, then it shall be so. I’m not bending the bureucratic red tape to get you onto the voidfleets and consequently make Fenton unhappy.”

“And… if we wanted to stay here anyways?” Fanny asked.

“Then I would have you evacuated by force, if not out of benevolence, then for the strategic benefit of keeping my best enchanter happy,” the King said. “Now, I believe we’ve tarried long enough. Please say your final farewells. That’s what you were brought here for and the only reason we’ve kept you two on Lonvoron longer than any other civilian is because your son wanted to spend time with you.”

It was cruel, Orodan had to admit. To be reunited with his family but to only have a week with them. He felt sorry for Fenton.

The boy and his parents had a tearful final goodbye, with Orodan and the King turning away to give them their privacy.

“To use one so young for battle… it sickens me. Even my words of justification to his mother and father had me feeling ill inside,” Alstatyn admitted. “I suppose you truly cannot put him to sleep and throw him somewhere he can’t get into trouble?”

“I certainly want to… but that would be going against my principles. As a warrior, I could not deny another their due chance to enter battle, no matter what outcome that may lead to,” Orodan replied. “Age is no barrier against the darkness of life. I grew up fighting for scraps and so has he. Having to look after his mother and toil away under a slavish contract turned him into a man earlier than most.”

If Fenton wanted to join him in battle despite his wishes… then Orodan’s honor would allow him to do naught else but stand aside and respect that decision. Better that than knock the boy out and have him suddenly appear in unplanned fashion. At least this way Orodan could try to keep an eye on him.

“Almyra mentioned something like that. She told me of your upbringing too… an orphan, yes? Did you…”

“Ever try to bring my own mother and father back?” Orodan finished and Alstatyn nodded. “Once. The reunion was short-lived when the forces which orchestrated my miserable upbringing were alerted upon their resurrection. A part of why I’m fighting is so that these wrongs can be set right.”

But, whether revenge or forgiveness lay at the end was a matter yet undecided.

“Yes, it seems everyone related to these time loops is destined for misery. For Almyra, the curse which afflicted her, for you, being an orphan, for Fenton, his father’s death and mother’s sickness,” Alstatyn said. “Does the boy know?”

“I told him that the System was responsible for his lot in life. But the true answer for it all? That’s knowledge best not shared too freely lest it bring trouble upon the heads of those who know it.”

But, with everything coming to a head, perhaps now was a good time to reveal certain things.

Fenton finished saying his goodbyes to his parents, and with a thrum of mana and the rippling of space, it was finished. The spatiomancers of the Collective who were on standby then proceeded to disperse. The designated world for evacuation was far off from the Collective’s center, near a secure border with allied factions on the other side too.

As safe as it got… provided the galaxy wasn’t shattered like it had been last time. But, that was what Orodan was here to prevent.

His student walked up to him, eyes misty from the farewell.

“Let’s get our affairs settled, shall we Mister Orodan?”

“Aye. Come, there’s a few things we should discuss before we’re off to do a final inspection on our work,” Orodan said. “And while I think it’s a dangerous thing to become reliant upon and can only foster bad habits if done too early… I’d like to give you a hand.”

“A hand?”

“For what’s coming, you might well need it. And I’m not overly concerned anymore about attracting attention by bestowing it.”

#

Fenton predictably wasn’t happy, being told about the root cause of all his woes. And while Orodan didn’t know exactly where the young enchanter fit into the grand scheme of things regarding the loops, there was no doubt that Fenton was somehow related to them. Or the old loops before Orodan had taken over anyhow.

Yet, despite his unhappiness, the rage Orodan’s revelation had given rise to had manifested in the form of a look of grim determination in the lad’s eyes. Zaessythra didn’t agree with coloring Fenton’s perception with such hatred, but Orodan felt hiding the knowledge would have been far worse. What Fenton chose to do with it was his choice, but Orodan was not the sort to tell lies or half-truths.

“Young master Penny! Here to see the sewer project are you? How’ve you-”

“We’ve got little time, move aside please” Fenton sharply said, the anger from what Orodan had told him still lingering.

The guard dutifully stepped aside with a look of concern.

“He’s received bad news, don’t mind him,” Orodan said as he followed.

He remembered the feeling of betrayal, upon learning that the System had caused his parents’ demise. The resolution that he would see the grudge settled one way or another. Fenton’s sour mood was only understandable.

Fenton had gone on ahead, head down in deep anger and introspection and almost pushing past Clyburn and someone else who was waiting for them at a crossroads.

“Well… he’s certainly not the gentle boy I remember. Infected him with your brutish and unchivalric mannerisms have you? Mister Wainwright?” the woman asked.

In response, Orodan flicked a pebble at her knee.

This time, her eyes briefly flashed gold as her fan intercepted it.

“I see you’ve learned,” Orodan remarked with a smile. “Could still stand to eat a bit more in my opinion. What good’s that fan if the wrist wielding it is frail like a dry twig?”

“And I see your barbaric fixation on assaulting people in the name of training still remains,” Luetta shot back.

“If it works, it’s not barbaric,” Orodan said. “You’re in no position to complain when the benefits are rather apparent.”

“Your constant assaults have their uses I’ll admit.”

“Ready to achieve Transcendence?” Orodan asked. “Won’t be long now.”

“After all the bullying you put me through, how could I not be? I’ve been waiting for over a month now,” Luetta said. “I hope you don’t intend for me to wait any longer?”

“Just a few more hours. I have one more bit of business to resolve before we go through with this,” Orodan said. “Meet me at the top of the royal citadel of Storven and in a few hours we’ll be ready to start. And you’d best be ready to run.”

“I still can’t believe you’ve secured my freedom only for me to have to flee off-world regardless,” Luetta said. “Will whatever’s happening truly be so cataclysmic?”

“We’ll be fighting something that can potentially destroy a galaxy.”

She stuttered a bit, but was shocked silent at that revelation.

“To make Luetta shut up… I never thought I’d see it in my lifetime Mister Wainwright,” Clyburn said with an amused laugh.

“Clyburn… are you part of this madness too? Don’t tell me you intend to help them in fighting whatever this is that can destroy a galaxy!” Luetta protested.

“Heavens no, but I do intend to perform one final quality inspection before I depart,” Clyburn answered. “Even though the battle will be Mister Wainwright’s, I shall help however I can before then. I owe him and young Fenton too much not to.”

The answer seemed to pacify the woman and she departed soon after. Orodan had caught her in the middle of catching up with Clyburn anyhow, and while she’d wanted to speak to Fenton, the lad clearly wasn’t in the right headspace for it.

Orodan and Clyburn then began walking along the underground pathways, inspecting the metallic casing laid along the path with enchantments upon it.

“Your output of work never ceases to amaze me Mister Wainwright… to think all this was done in just a few days,” Clyburn muttered as he closely inspected everything as they walked,

“Wouldn’t have worked without your engineering acumen,” Orodan said. “And your professional opinion on the machine diagram I showed you, it’s much appreciated as well.”

“Right, that device from your world? The construction’s a little odd, but with your time here and the adjustments I recommended, I’m certain you can take a better crack at it when you return,” Clyburn remarked. “A world of pegasi and dragons… creatures I’ve only read about in myths and legends. How quaint!”

“Compared to the invasion Lonvoron is under, my world must seem idyllic,” Orodan remarked. “Still has its dangers though.”

Although Orodan did wonder if he’d have the same level of success if he started as a time looper here. Deadlier enemies to face, and it’d certainly take him many, many more loops to bridge the gap. But that too came with the opportunity to acquire skills faster via plenty of short loops.

“Now, I don’t mean to pry… but what’s the matter with young Fenton?”

“I told him the truth regarding something important to him,” Orodan answered.

“On the eve of battle? Would that not cloud his mind?” Clyburn asked.

“Or it might firm his resolve,” Orodan said. “Not until I was certain he would stand with us did I reveal it. Lest I influence his decision.”

“And if he had decided he wanted no part in fighting the approaching calamity? Would you have told him then?” Clyburn asked.

Orodan paused a moment, and then a frown appeared upon his face.

“…yes. And that answer displeases me, but yes I would have. Even if it leads to his death,” Orodan answered. His honor demanded he remain honest with his allies, even if it led to their doom. “But this conjecture is pointless. Come, we have inspections to make and an entire length of wall to traverse.”

The inspection continued for an hour as they traversed the underground workways. All was well, and Orodan was certain this thing would work.

Finally, near the conclusion of their inspection it was Clyburn who broke the quiet silence of the underground passageways and the oddly muted city above which had been almost entirely evacuated.

“I feel your lot in life would be far easier if you were a little more uncaring, Mister Wainwright.”

“Perhaps my foes would have a harder time of it if I employed underhanded tricks, but that’s not my way.”

“While your proclivity for daring frontal assaults is admirable and amusing in equal measure, that’s not what I refer to. No, what I mean is your conscience,” Clyburn emphasized. “If you cared only about yourself then whether Fenton learned the truth or whether he lived or died would not trouble you. But instead you’re possesses of a stern sense of honor which demands you follow it, even to the detriment of yourself and sometimes your allies.”

“Not always,” Orodan clarified. “This thing we’re doing, it’s quite far removed from how I usually operate. If left to my own devices, I’d be confronting the approaching foe and their assembled forces by myself.”

“And getting killed no doubt. How is it that you’ve survived all this time?” Clyburn asked.

“I haven’t.”

“Pardon?”

Orodan shook his head.

“Telling you the full story would take far too long. To keep it short, every time I die, I revert back in time. I’ve been abusing this to engage in battle after battle against enemies of growing strength,” he explained.

“That is…”

“Outrageous? Unbelievable? Nonsensical?” Orodan suggested. “Or should I say what most do: stupid?”

“Yes to all of those,” Clyburn agreed, causing Orodan to laugh. “But mainly, it’s no concern of mine. Yes, that does explain a number of discrepancies about you Mister Wainwright, and I can certainly see the story adding up. And while I’m no village yokel you might be telling this story to… I’m also a non-combatant engineer, even if I am a Grandmaster who’s two-hundred years old. While it’s great that you’re caught in a cycle of time reversion, what does that have to do with me?”

“Hmm… you’re an awfully level-headed fellow I must admit,” Orodan noted. “No greed? No desire to ask me for favors?”

“In light of your revelation, the fixation you have with repaying your debts makes quite some sense now. I’m sure you shall not forget me even if I want not a thing from you,” Clyburn replied. “I suppose being able to actually complete the pillars of purification would be nice, but er… spare me the whole trip to the capital next time will you?”

“You don’t like operating a guild branch in the capital itself?” Orodan asked.

“Gods no… though I suppose invoking their name is a bit awkward when you’ve butchered many of them…” Clyburn muttered, going off on a tangent before refocusing. “I’m but a simple man who enjoys pushing the boundaries of Engineering and creating new devices. If I were to ask any favors of you, the first would be to keep Lonvoron and the Collective safe from the plague. And the second… to just let me tinker away in peace. If you can see that I’m not dragged into the capital next time, I would appreciate that Mister Wainwright.”

Truly, Clyburn Anderthorn was an eccentric fellow, not a bad one at all though.

“You’re an odd one, Clyburn Anderthorn, I can acquiesce to that request.”

“And you’re a good man Orodan Wainwright, I pity whoever put a steadfast warrior of honor and conscience into your position,” Clyburn said. “Now, I see our young friend about to complete the loop and meet us in the middle.”

Orodan wasn’t sure if he agreed with the assessment that he was a good man, but his self-critical dwelling upon his character flaws could wait.

“It’s lookin’ alright ser,” Fenton said.

“Then we’re as prepared as we shall be,” Orodan declared. “Clyburn, this is where we part ways. Fenton, I’ll see you at the top of the citadel.”

And as Almyra winked into existence before him, he knew that there was one more place to be.

#

It wasn’t anyplace special that she’d taken him. Allowing himself to be taken along for dimensional travel, they’d crossed more than a few dimensional boundaries before arriving at their destination.

A world core. And while Orodan had seen plenty of these throughout his travels, it wasn’t the core itself, but what protruded from it that caught his eye.

“A System Control Spike…” he muttered, awe in his voice.

But it didn’t have any additional features etched upon it like the one on Alastaia did. Proof that the Custodian had truly tried his best to experiment and give Orodan an edge.

“It required more than a few loops of searching and directing the Collective’s armies towards militaristic action before I was able to find it,” Almyra added. “Unlike yours, which just so happened to be on the exact planet you start your loops upon, this is quite far from Lonvoron.”

“It’s not located upon your world? I had thought each one unique to a looper, but it appears I was mistaken,” Orodan admitted.

“Given the thousands of time loopers who have come before us the cosmos would be a little packed with these unsightly structures if that were the case, no?” she posed. “As you told me about the one upon your world, this too is disguised as a divine artifact from the top.”

“I can see that, but the structure of it’s different to mine. Mine is a divine tower filled with creatures I’ve battled throughout the loops. But this is…”

“A library. A vast repository of knowledge acquired throughout all of my loops,” Almyra explained, opening a rift which led to the upper floors which he stepped through. “Every time I fell, that which last slew me would have an entry dedicated to it added to the shelves. Strengths, weaknesses, abilities, Bloodlines and more. But mainly with this… I can see their entire Status.”

What a monstrous advantage for a scheming time looper like her.

The bookshelves reached high into the sky and there were thousands upon thousands of entries. Of course, that made little sense.

“You haven’t died all that often, how are there so many?” Orodan asked.

“It lists the past slayers of not just me, but previous time loopers who were selected by this structure as well,” Almyra said, taking a set of stairs to walk upwards. “The history of our universe is long, Orodan Wainwright. There were many before me who were also brought into the time loops. From what I can glean, the System was not initially good at bestowing this power. Many of the candidates were… lacking.”

“Lacking?”

“Farmers, villagers, drunks with nary a care for bettering themselves with the situation in their hands. What the System does not tell you is that it is always watching the time looper… or before you did what you did, it used to,” the previous looper said. “Within a few loops of some of these fools’ attempts, the System moved onto the next. I suspect… that after a particularly bad experience with a talented time looper, the Boundless One and its servant were trying other avenues. Failed experiments in the end.”

Indeed, as Orodan ascended the steps he could see the written titles on the book spines showing increasingly stronger creatures and beings. But on the lower parts of the gigantic tower, the shelves were full of common beasts. Some of them, even Orodan before the time loops could kill dozens of.

Who had died thirty times to an Initiate-level rabbit? Was there some killer rabbit going around murdering things?

“If this isn’t Collective territory, the locals must be aware of the tower’s existence,” Orodan said.

“It is Collective territory, just bargained for during one of the many wars of border expansion I led after its founding,” Almyra said. “It originally used to belong to a rather warlike orc horde. Yet despite their savagery even they venerated this place as a fountain of knowledge, though they knew not what it truly was. Mind you, even without the time loopers, this tower is connected to the world itself. Anything which performs a kill within this planet will have its entry added to the tower. Naturally, the orcs thought it was a tower venerating their kills without realizing that it was tied to the time loop as well.”

Which made sense. After all, without Almyra explaining the function of this tower he wouldn’t have known that the books were about things which had killed the time loopers. Although, if a non-looper was observant, they might notice the sudden increase in entries at the start of a loop.

“Is that why the planet is entirely lifeless?” Orodan asked.

“I migrated all the local flora and fauna off-world before glassing all of the planet besides the world core. It now survives via connection to the core of other worlds,” she explained. “Before that, the bottom layer would be in constant flux as the cycle of life and nature took place all across the world. Far less clutter now; I like to remain organized.”

They continued upwards as they spoke. The lower shelves were full of Initiates, Apprentices and Adepts, but the upper ones had fewer entries and had stronger creatures.

“A Fallen Void Archon,” Almyra pointed out at an entry in the Grandmaster section. “One of only six direct combat deaths I knowingly walked into. My first one too after I began to learn some magic and thought myself better than I was. Foolish of me to challenge an extraterrestrial being with six arms and a natural talent for magic to a straight spellcasting duel. I stopped engaging in pointless risks after that… though I suppose you’ve proven the benefits I missed out on.”

Indeed, Orodan saw Void Horrors, thousand-headed serpents and all manner of horrific beasts titling the spines of the various books as they rose higher. Many of the previous time loopers must have died often trying to fight such creatures.

“It could have gone quite poorly for me too. There are plenty of creatures and beings out there with mind and soul-affecting abilities. If anything, I survived and acquired benefits despite my lack of caution, not because of it,” Orodan said, looking at the entries. “But this is certainly interesting… there’s no record of anything which killed me. And there was no indication that the divine tower of my world had anything to do with any other time loopers.”

“There are no records of anything which killed you because you are not connected to this one,” Almyra said. “And even if you were, with your claims of empowering the whole loop… I wonder if the Boundless One even remembers anything of what you did in the loops where it was in control of the loop mechanism.”

Likely not. When Orodan had taken over and begun affecting all reality, he had the distinct feeling that even the Boundless One wasn’t unaffected. Time for it, in the metaphysical sense, had reset to before it had begun observing Orodan’s first loop. Little wonder some of the people he’d spoken to said that it was quite panicked at the start of all his loops nowadays.

“As for the divine tower of your world… I doubt it even retains any information about you, if your words are true regarding the loops,” Almyra said. “My theory for why it had no information from other loopers within it is that you’re likely the first time looper keyed to it. Something not out of the ordinary, I assure you. I know of at least three other System Control Spikes within this galaxy, and their divine towers have no evidence of being connected to any past loopers either. Of course, those worlds the towers are situated upon are quite underdeveloped and unlikely to birth any significant talents.”

If Alastaia’s world core heard her words, he had no doubt it would be offended. Yet, it was true. Orodan’s home world was naught but small fry in the grand heirarchy of the cosmos. Not a single native-born Transcendent. And even Eldiron’s civilization was relatively underdeveloped in comparison to powerful cosmic civilizations like the Hegemony and the cultivators.

“Your scathing but honest assessment of my world’s underdeveloped nature aside, is this how you’ve amassed power throughout your loops? With your planning and strategies, this is the ultimate tool for someone like you, isn’t it?”

She smirked, pride showing in a rare display.

“I suppose this has its uses when combined with foresight, preparation and tactical acumen. Hard for most enemies to stand up to you when you have access to their Status, and if not, can just orchestrate a situation where they’re lured to this planet and kill something,” she added. “Foes which were troublesome on one loop often found themselves baffled. To them it must have been eerie, to be countered so perfectly. After all, even if I could not beat some of them directly at the time, nothing prevented me from developing Transcendents who could, or crafting plans tailor-made for them. The Vystaxium Galaxy was not always so unified ten-thousand years ago, at the beginning of my loops everything is a mess and it takes much political maneuvering, military acumen and diplomatic know-how to form the Collective in an optimal state.”

“That… sounds entirely too complicated for me,” Orodan said. “But I suppose developing one’s world has its benefits, if not for you, then for their sake.”

As they spoke, they finally reached the top. And here, the bookshelves had very few entries, less than a dozen.

One of them, Orodan recognized.

“Alagameth. Was it you who fell to him?” he asked. “No wonder you were so hostile during that meeting.”

“I profess… that spider outmaneuvered me by summoning an entire army of bloodthirsty creatures of the void right on top of us once. A trick I was on-guard against when we fought in the next loop,” Almyra said. “But it also refused to vacate its spot right on the border of our territory for the longest of times until I sent it running.”

But really, Orodan’s eye had been caught by the one book which had a strange name. It was different to the rest too.

‘Azrohal Excrodatar (Species: Fallen Void Archon)’

A familiar last name. Perhaps all Fallen Void Archons shared the same? This being wasn’t any regular Embodiment however. And Orodan had a feeling he knew exactly who it was. And the book… the book was empty.

“You died fighting it, didn’t you?” Orodan asked.

“Once. I… do not wish to repeat that again. Its true nature is that of a monster, no matter what false human skin it garbs itself in,” Almyra said, fear evident in her. “Your Celestial skill, can you not just purge it directly?”

“All that would do is remove the corruption upon it and thereby remove one of our key advantages. It would only serve to make it angrier too,” Orodan said. “Much as I detest the Prophet, I will not strip a being of who they are. That zealot embraces the Eldritch, to remove it from them would be an act of defilement. Better instead to kill it outright and preserve our honor.”

“Honor? That’s what concerns you at this critical juncture? Honor will not bring us victory!” she hissed.

“And I shall not use my cleaning in such a manner again,” Orodan declared, standing his ground. “If I see the opportunity to kill it, certainly. But to strip it of its very being? No.”

Using Domain of Perfect Cleaning to purge all Eldritch from the Prophet would be pointless and just serve to make it angrier while rendering Orodan’s Eldritch Resistance moot. Furthermore, he felt he was on the cusp of it, Embodiment. He had erased Almyra’s mighty System-powered beam of energy already. And while the Prophet would need to be severely weakened before he could do the same…

…he felt close to a breakthrough.

She clicked her tongue.

“We face a horrid foe, and my work with the Mantle is nearing its conclusion, but not nearly quick enough. If I had more time I could uncover its secrets, learn to harness it against the Prophet properly. But with such time constraints we can only stand together to make up for the lack of preparation,” Almyra said. “Seventeen years of siege by the Eldritch, and it shall all come to a head today.”

Seventeen years to prepare for an impending fight against an Administrator. Without his unique advantages, Orodan could understand needing a while to truly master the intricacies of the Mantle. After all, it used System energy, which if overused, could lead to corruption by the Eldritch. Something which was far deadly for any sane time looper.

“We’ll win. We have to,” Orodan declared. “Thank you for showing me this. I may not use it as extensively as you have, but as a source of information it will be quite useful. And it’s informative, to know that there are other System Control Spikes.”

In fact, just by studying this, he felt closer to understanding how the System itself worked. Yes, he had made his own for himself, but replacing the System for everyone would require much greater understanding than he had at present.

“Then if that is all…” she trailed off, sounding more than a little anxious and impatient. “Waiting when we could instead act has never sat well with me.”

Orodan smiled.

“For all our differences, on this we can agree.”

The battle for the fate of Lonvoron awaited.

The Prophet and who knew what else was coming for them.

But Orodan and his allies were ready.

#

Lonvoron, prime world of the Blackworth Collective, was an ancient planet.

Its world core, though subservient to Almyra, was among the oldest in the entirety of the Vystaxium Galaxy. Accordingly, the civilization upon it was older than any upon Alastaia, and Storven, the capital of the Collective and King Alstatyn Von Flemethy’s seat of power had over a million years of history to it.

The city had been razed, re-built and obliterated many times throughout Lonvoron’s tumultuous history prior to Almyra’s loops. Yet the one constant was the citadel, which even if destroyed had always been rebuilt in the same place.

And it was at the bottom of this royal citadel that Orodan stood, Almyra behind him, next to her Alstatyn and Fenton.

And in front of him, Luetta Treadway.

“I must admit… I can’t tell the difference at a glance,” Alstatyn remarked.

“Of course, Fenton and I worked on it extensively,” Orodan replied, casting a glance towards a particular construct in the room.

His student had put much effort into it.

“Are the spatiomancers prepared to send her away?” Orodan asked, looking at Luetta.

“They stand ready Mister Wainwright,” King Alstatyn replied. “And so do we.”

“And the citadel’s defenses?”

“Exactly as we’ve planned and prepared,” Almyra spoke up, layer upon layer of spellcraft covering her form, obscuring it from view.

In particular, a colossal number of obscuring spells meant to prevent the emission of any energy whatsoever. Orodan had carefully looked over her to ensure there were zero energy emissions with Vision of Purity.

“And Fenton’s where he should be,” Orodan remarked, verifying the lad’s position with Vision of Purity.

The intricately crafted construct beside him stared on as they spoke.

“I must profess… this is making me quite nervous,” Luetta remarked. “Just what are you going to be fighting?”

“An Administrator, though you might not know what that is,” Orodan answered.

“You’re right, I don’t. And part of me feels I would rather not know, not when I have a trial coming up,” she replied. “Mister Wainwright… I’m ready when you are.”

Orodan nodded and gestured for everyone but him and Luetta to leave. It was an eerie sight, just her, him and two very lifelike constructs with intricate spellcraft covering them. One of whom donned familiar robes.

“Go ahead then… read my fate.”

The tapestry itself shifted to aid her; Luetta’s eyes blazed gold as she was intent on getting past his Fate Disconnect shield and reading his fate. Orodan began resisting as he pulsed the shield around his fate erratically, trying to throw her off. Reaching past level 100 and surpassing Grandmastery, it was a delicate thing.

His resistance wasn’t serious, rather it was a carefully guided thing, meant to draw out her maximal potential and give her a platform to utilize her abilities to the utmost.

[Fate Mastery 37 → Fate Mastery 38]

At key intervals, Orodan even began causing a bit of mayhem in the tapestry of fate, pushing her to work just a bit harder. And soon enough, the efforts were rewarded.

The tapestry was in flux and his Fate Disconnect shield was still up, but despite all this…

…Luetta forcibly took control of the nearby sections of the tapestry, even as her nose bled from the mental strain, and directed it all towards her target.

And Orodan eased up the shield so that it could strike.

His fate was like an open book to her, even with its infinitely cyclical nature. And even in attempting to read such a monstrous thing her comprehension was tested to its limits. In fact, parsing just a hundredth of the mess that was Orodan Wainwright’s fate, was enough.

The tapestry shuddered, and Orodan clearly saw the shift in her soul as level 100 was crossed.

Almost immediately, world and System energy began coalescing around her. The familiar glyphs and symbols of the System began arraying themselves within the chamber. And the humanoid being composed of impossible geometric shapes with System symbols flitting in and out of existence upon the surface of its skin appeared as the dimensional boundary was disturbed.

Everything besides Luetta, the System being and Orodan himself froze. Time was utterly halted for the entire world of Lonvoron and perhaps even beyond.

And as usual, the System and its golem weren’t so easy to accept that state of affairs as Orodan felt the familiar feeling of chronomancy attempting to freeze him in time.

He didn’t get to see the messages which denoted the trial beginning and the time stasis starting, cut off from the System as he was. But he was certain the System being’s inability to freeze him was causing a stir. He could feel the titanic amounts of System energy flooding into the unit easily enough.

Energy which was no match for his own as he erupted with the power of multiple world cores.

“M-mister Wainwright…! The System tells me that the unit is approaching corruption! What does that mean?!” Luetta protested.

“Worry not about that,” Orodan instructed. “Focus on your trial.”

And focus she did.

The System unit presented a rather complicated set of fates before her, each of them defended by traps and protections. But training with Orodan Wainwright and being exposed to his training methods had a way of turning even someone mediocre into a talent. And Luetta was no slouch in fate reading to begin with.

Traps were dismantled, defenses breached and Orodan had to resist the urge to click his tongue at how easy the trial was in comparison to his own training of her. The System’s lowe standards for Transcendence were a little embarrassing…

“Of course the harsh taskmaster would say that, slave driver that you are,” Zaessythra muttered. “Another Transcendent added to the Collective, and our time to act.”

Indeed it was. For the one nice thing about a trial of ascension was the fact that it gave Orodan a clear line of connection between the material plane and the System’s bowels.

A connection through which he could wreak quite some havoc and cause plenty of misdirection.

The time stasis was released just as Luetta achieved Transcendence, but any thoughts of celebration were cut short as she was immediately teleported away. And just as she left, Orodan’s soul energy erupted and flooded the connection before the System unit could flee.

It erupted outwards and caused great mayhem upon the tapestry of fate.

Enough that one could mistake it for someone else with far greater talent achieving Transcendence.

The pillars of purification trembled as something approached; the power of an Administrator smashed past the vault’s anti-dimensionalism wards. The Prophet had taken notice.

But their foe was a wily one. There were six pillars of purification within the vault, and instead of seeing that zealot come through the rift like he’d expected, it was a horde of Gods which appeared instead.

“The God Slayer! Pin him down while we focus on the pillars!” the leading God of the enemy forces roared as divine energy spilled through the rift.

The leading God’s orders were sharp and brooked no dissent. The Gods who were recipients of the command had grim looks upon their faces, knowing that carrying it out would mean their doom. Immediately, a dozen Gods from the back rank hit Orodan with a plethora of restraining spells while the front wave of another dozen threw themselves at him with suicidal tenacity.

Throughout all this, the leading God set about destroying the pillars while another two worked in dismantling any wards.

The two constructs in the chamber with him were also pinned down.

“We have the boy and the time looper! Our lord will be pleased with our success!” one of the Gods joyously roared in a victory cry.

“The God slayer is not as strong as we feared! Kill him where he stands! Cut off his head!”

A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

Things were going poorly… or so it seemed.

The only one who looked as though they disagreed was a divine eagle with exceptionally sharp eyes next to the leading God. It looked exceptionally nervous at how well things were going for them.

Unfortunately for it, even while restrained, even as multiple Gods tried hacking at his tough flesh… Orodan made sure to meet the gaze of this eagle and target it with Incipience of Infinity.

It froze in terror, unable to move. And that was just enough as the rest of the Gods carried on zealously.

The two life-like constructs were thrown to the ground before the rift, and the enemy Gods roared in victory all while Orodan continued receiving a thrashing.

And soon enough, a familiar book-wielding zealot wearing the skin of a man entered the fray.

“My lord! The vault is secure! Those wicked pillars are destroyed and we have the enemy pinned down for you to finish off!”

It was exceedingly odd, to see an entirely uncorrupted God be so subservient to the Prophet, but as the zealot walked through, the only thing on the Prophet’s face…

…was a sharp frown. Particularly as it gazed upon the replica Mantle draped over the lifelike imitation of Almyra. And next to it, the lifelike imitation of Fenton Penny.

“What… what is this? This is no Mantle… these are mere golems,” the Prophet said, absorbing the replica robes into himself for analysis. “A lie, a falsehood! A pale imitation and grave insult towards the provenance and provider of all!”

“My lord… we did not know…”

Yet, the words did little to calm the anger and sharp suspicion now apparent in the Prophet’s eyes. And as the Administrator turned to look at Orodan, who was still being beaten and clobbered by a horde of angry Gods, its eyes widened.

“You…!”

[Deception 10 → Deception 15]

Orodan flexed his arms, shattering the bindings which restrained him. The first swing of his blade slew his attackers, yet the Prophet did not move as all of its defenses flared to the maximum.

“I’ve been waiting for you, Prophet,” Orodan declared with a predatory smile on his face. “Welcome to Lonvoron.”

The entire citadel shook as world shattering amounts of Eldritch energy began leaving the Prophet’s form in pulses.

“The pillars you fools! The pillars!” the Prophet hissed.

But it was too late.

After all, the six pillars of purification set up inside the vault room were only a false measure, with lifelike replicas of Almyra, Fenton and the Mantle placed within as the accompanying bait. And the catch had just bitten down hard.

The citadel and all of Lonvoron rumbled as a grand array came to life, powered directly by the world core itself.

It was the culmination of what Orodan had been working on for the past week. Something he’d seen used very successfully on his own world, specifically, during the Battle of Novar’s Peak.

How strong of an effect it had been, when wards and enchantments lining the walls of an entire city activated at once back then. But, what if the principles behind the pillars of purification were combined with that? What if all along the walls of the city a gigantic metallic structure was built, one singular, winding pillar of purification?

The Prophet’s deathly roar of pain was the answer.

It didn’t drain the Administrator of Eldritch entirely, Orodan and Fenton had been careful when designing the array to ensure that didn’t occur. But it did begin draining most of the raw Eldritch power within it. An act which caused its pristine human guise to begin grotesquely showing the tell-tale signs of purple-gray corruption.

And just as the Administrator thought to retaliate by shattering all Lonvoron, the next part of the plan came to fruition.

Another rift opened in the chamber, and a titanic beam of System energy shot through, hurling the Prophet deep into the void. Orodan could feel the draw of power from his soul as the Mantle recharged after such an expenditure. The entire citadel and all of Storven were utterly obliterated as the beam carried on parting the clouds and shattering a nearby star as it continued on through the void of space.

“For Lonvoron!” Alstatyn shouted, coming through right after the beam and shooting an enemy God dead.

Dozens of rifts opened up and voidcraft of the Blackworth Collective began sallying through. Fenton and Almyra walked through the rift right after, joining Orodan.

In the boy’s hands was a device, and Fenton looked at it with a frustrated scowl.

“It ain’t workin’ ser! What happened to the replica?” Fenton asked.

“It absorbed it… someplace, I’m not exactly sure. Perhaps into a storage of some sort?” Orodan suggested. “In any case, no plan survives first contact with the enemy. We’ll have to adapt from here and figure things out.”

Almyra however had no words to spare, she stepped forth and engaged in a magical duel against the Prophet. Something that would have ordinarily been impossible.

But, when such a large gap in power was present, what sort of ability could turn the tide? The answer… was the Blessing of Orodan Wainwright.

If Destartes, a Grandmaster mage, could become monstrously powerful upon receipt of his Blessing, then just how far could an Embodiment-level mage with a penchant for maintaining thousands of spells achieve?

The Prophet had been hurled deeper into the void and away from Lonvoron, and the cataclysmic clash of spellfire against holy light was the answer. A clash Almyra should have lost ten times over in the past.

But now, although she was desperately struggling, using her vast array of spells, utilizing the power of the Reject’s Mantle and drawing judiciously upon Orodan’s Blessing…

…she barely held for a moment.

“Keep an eye on the battle!” Orodan instructed Fenton. “My Blessing should give the fleets an advantage but your help will tip the scales just that bit more.”

Orodan had bestowed his unique Blessing upon people a few times in the past loops, but never to the extent that he had now. Hundreds of key individuals, Grandmasters and Transcendents all, bore the Blessing of Orodan Wainwright.

[Incipience of Infinity 141 → Incipience of Infinity 142]

Having so many powerful beings draw upon his power was quite straining, but excellent training. Every level gained in Incipience of Infinity, especially during such a critical battle, helped immensely.

King Alstatyn stepped next to Fenton, and alongside the monarch were a group of powerful Transcendents who Orodan had blessed as well. The message was clear, this elite force would closely guard the lad throughout the battle. After all, in a war between Gods and Transcendents, a mere Elite was likely to face a quick end.

Which of course begged the question of just how could Fenton contribute during such a battle. The lad wasn’t capable of fighting Gods while at the Elite-level like Orodan had been. But there were other ways to contribute to such a battle, even as a non-combatant.

The enchanted bullet which flew from the barrel of one of Alstatyn’s accompanying Transcendents and struck an enemy God in the shoulder was one such method. It wasn’t a fatal wound by any means, the peak-God had a strong regeneration ability too. But none of that mattered as the enchanted projectile released a pre-built enchantment right into the God’s physical form.

“What is this witchcraft?! I cannot use-”

The God’s shock was cut off as a follow-up bullet took off their head and Fenton handed the gunwoman another carefully tailor-made enchanted round. Orodan saw clearly how a weaving enchantment had spread upon impact from the bullet, one tailor-made to prevent regeneration.

Against beings of extreme power who cycled energy often, it might not have worked for long, but against these Gods? Fenton Penny’s aid was instrumental in ridding key enemies from the field.

“Get that glowin’ slime next!” Fenton instructed.

It was Body Enchanting, used not for the benefit but the detriment of the recipient. Transcendent gunfighters backed by enchanted bullets which turned a normally beneficial trade towards a very lethal purpose.

At the sight of that, Orodan felt comfortable leaving the planetside confrontation behind as he swiftly passed into the void via Dimensional Step.

Immediately, he noticed Almyra was on the backfoot and the subtle tells in her posture and movements gave the impression that she was far from confident. His appearance relieved some of that.

Two System energy beams collided with one another, the power threatening to destroy multiple star systems if not for Orodan diverting the energy of the collision into the pores of the dimensional boundary and bleeding it off.

“Not here,” Orodan cautioned. “The planet won’t survive this battle if we remain and I can’t redirect every such clash.”

The previous looper nodded, and a shimmering layer of magic surrounded her, Orodan and the Prophet.

The zealot allowed this, using the brief lull for its own purposes. Orodan could sense it re-strengthening the shields around its mind and eyes at the sight of him. Using Incipience of Infinity to mentally assault it would not work so easily this time.

“Sacrilege most foul, blasphemy which cannot go unpunished. Time looper, even if you were cast aside by our provider, to cavort with agents of invaders? You must be put down,” the Prophet solemnly declared, gazing upon Almyra with a look of utter condemnation. It then turned to Orodan. “I cannot sense which false Boundless you are tied to, invader. Whatever pretender aided you in causing me harm upon the battlefield last time will find no purchase now. My mind has been strengthened, fortified against such esoteric tricks. And soon, that Mantle will be mine and you shall be punished for your sins.”

Given the unique nature of his soul and the lack of a familiar System, even the Warrior had mistaken Orodan for an agent of a foreign Boundless One. And if the Prophet wanted to do the same, Orodan had no interest in correcting it.

“No Prophet, I believe you shall find you aren’t as strong as you think you are,” Orodan declared.

“Pathetic. You are decent… perhaps at the Transcendent-level, but even alongside this treacherous betrayer you cannot hope to stand against me,” the Prophet countered, drawing power into its Mantle. “Pulling me into another dimension will only lead to two very lonely deaths.”

Orodan agreed with that assessment. He didn’t think he could beat an Administrator yet, neither did Almyra. Even while deprived of a great portion of its Eldritch power, it was a true monster.

Which was why they’d brought reinforcements.

Pulling the Prophet into the mirror dimension wasn’t just to avoid the needless destruction of Lonvoron. But to also give their ‘allies’ a convenient place to show up without any other distractions.

Even the Prophet looked a little surprised when a haughty-looking spider suddenly appeared, the entrance entirely imperceptible. Yet, it was the dimensional rift which tore open behind Talricto that was far more attention-catching.

“That damned thief! Get that spider immediately!”

It was Captain-General Ryzlan and the forces of the Conclave which had marched through the rift. And from the looks of it, the leader of the Conclave was not happy.

“Ah, my favorite student. As you can see your most majestic teacher and benefactor has drawn quite a bit of attention. Normally unplanned, but in this case, quite planned,” Talricto said. “Care to convince these fine folk to leave me be?”

Almyra had made plans for diplomacy, negotiation, subterfuge and more. Yet all that seemed unnecessary as the Captain-General’s face contorted into a rictus of horror.

“A-ancestor… ancestor!” the leader of the Conclave exclaimed. “You… are tainted by the Eldritch? How can… how can this be?”

“Fool! You and your lot are being manipulated, can you not see? Come, work with your ancestor and subjugate these rebels who defy the source of all grace.”

Unfortunately for the Prophet, its persuasion attempts landed more than a little flatly. A natural consequence of being subject to a city-wide array which drained Eldritch power and forced the corruption within it to ramp up in order to compensate.

“Ancestor… worry not, we shall save you! The Eldritch taint can be purged!” the Captain-General righteously declared.

“The ancestor must not be in his right senses. We shall save him!” another holy paladin promised.

And finally, the boundary rippled once more as Talricto opened a passage for one more being.

“I see your thieving ways still persist,” Alagameth lectured as it stepped through. However, at the sight of the Prophet, the spatial spider stilled. “So it is true… the dark whispers I had heard, that our founding ancestor had fallen to the plague.”

Alagameth, Talricto and the military forces of the Conclave, alongside Almyra wielding an Administrator’s Mantle and Orodan himself. The forces now arrayed against the Prophet were not insignificant.

A beam of System energy broke the ceasefire as Almyra used the Mantle to occupy the Administrator’s attention once more. In return the Prophet fired a return beam which clashed against hers and the battle was on.

Talricto stood in place, trembling with exertion as Orodan felt a powerful pull from the spider drawing a lot of energy. His mentor of dimensionalism was preoccupied solely with maintaining the integrity of the mirror dimension’s boundaries amidst these titanic clashes. A task of utmost importance lest the bounds shatter yet again and the battle spill over into Lonvoron.

The Prophet had no intention of leaving these new arrivals untouched however, and beams of light shot forth, splitting into multiple, as they eerily predicted the paths and motions of the paladins. The Administrator was also an excellent fate reader. It was something they’d had to account for as Orodan’s presence in the vault was no random thing. Only Almyra, with her numerous spellcraft protections, or he with his Fate Disconnect, were the two capable of maintaining extended contact with the Prophet without their plans being read or discovered ahead of time.

And even then the previous looper had cast plenty of spells over the tapestry of fate, doing her best to obscure the movements of her forces from this zealot. Unfortunately, against a fate reader of the Prophet’s caliber, such protections were only partially effective.

Numerous paladins were disintegrated and the Captain-General of the Conclave was forced to backpedal as he took a heavy wound. While their plans might be safe, the immediate future movements of their allies were not. And the terrifying accurate beams of light which seemed to strike with unerring accuracy found their marks upon more than two dozen Conclave knights before spatial rifts began appearing.

Alagameth the Silent Oracle refused to remain passive. The spatial spider opened rifts which redirected the beams of light back at the Prophet, and this allowed the knights and paladins of the Conclave time to recover and mount a dedicated assault against the Administrator.

Mere Gods and Transcendents attacking a being stronger than any other Embodier in the cosmos; these assaults were pitiful. But what they did do was distract the target.

And any distraction was critical when the Prophet was tied up with its main fight.

[Candleflame 45 → Candleflame 46]

[Fire Resistance 68 → Fire Resistance 69]

Orodan’s arm blazed with the fury of fires enough to set a solar system aflame. His fist clenched hard, and he threw his all into the next attack as it met the Prophet’s System energy beam in sync with Almyra’s own Mantle empowered attack. Instead of a regular punch, Orodan tried something he hadn’t attempted yet, for fear that he might truly kill himself with the backlash.

But what better time for dangerous experimentation than during the heat of a deadly battle?

[Smite of Abrupt Deliverance 89 → Smite of Abrupt Deliverance 90]

[Fire Magic Mastery 61 → Fire Magic Mastery 63]

So mighty was the attack that Orodan was reduced to mere chunks by the blowback of his own strike.

Yet it was undeniably effective. He reformed almost instantly to see Almyra’s beam winning the exchange and scoring a blow upon the Prophet’s passive barrier, shattering it and singing the Administrator’s System-empowered flesh.

The wound was almost unnoticeable… and Orodan had a bad feeling about their odds in this fight.

It frowned, curiosity in its gaze.

“Even with the Mantle, your attacks are pitiful. The difference in power between you and the invader is clear,” the Prophet insulted, glaring at Almyra. “Perhaps you should step back and let him do the fighting?”

“Your attempts at riling my temper shall avail you not, Prophet. You fall here today,” Almyra declared, her voice warping due to the spells concealing her and the System energy coursing through the Mantle she wore.

The Prophet clicked its tongue in annoyance, but a devious smile then emerged onto its face.

“While crushing the lot of you would be entertaining, it would amuse me more to see your supposed allies turned against you,” the Administrator said. “Come, bearers of the light. Witness the truth and embrace the source of provenance.”

The elemental plane of light which the warriors of the Conclave drew power from subtly shifted, as though something dark and wicked was laying beneath the surface all this time and had finally decided to come out. And then, the glowing golden rays turned purple, and with them… their aid.

Captain-General Ryzlan’s eyes began turning white, as did those of the holy paladins accompanying him.

Unfortunately for the Prophet, its smile was cut off as its eyes sharply homed in on Orodan’s broom. A broom which now had a clear pathway to the elemental plane of light.

Eyes blazing with the light of his soul, the empowered broom shot forth and touched the Captain-General of the Conclave… and its power spread far beyond that.

“No!”

However the Prophet’s cry came too late as the holy warriors were cleaned and fortified forevermore against the Eldritch. And the power of Domain of Perfect Cleaning went beyond even that as it entered the elemental plane of light and purged it entirely of all the taint within it.

Close, very close… but not quite enough to push into Embodiment. Orodan had cleansed dimensions of taint before. To truly embody the concept of cleaning he would have to do more than mere brute force.

Yet those thoughts were brought to a jarring halt as he was slammed upon the ground and two burning hands gripped his skull.

“It was you. You were the one who purged the divine dimension of all my work. Millions of years of work… undone in an instant,” the Prophet hissed, its voice breaking with raw rage. “You will die.”

Like a savage monster its hand came down.

The first blow splattered Orodan into a handful of cells. He reformed instantly, quick enough to experience the second and third. Savage strikes, lacking skill, reason or efficiency. His attacker was consumed with rage and had finally found an outlet for it.

But just as he was bludgeoned, so too was his opponent.

[Warrior’s Reciprocity 92 → Warrior’s Reciprocity 93]

Terrible wounds appeared on the Prophet’s body as it smashed Orodan, returned with many times the damage. The damage was healed easily enough due to the tremendous amount of System energy coursing through the Administrator, but it seemed to be one of the few things working to hurt it.

In a sense, Orodan was grateful. If it was smart, it could have simply destroyed him entirely and completely with a singular beam of light. But the sheer anger at having all that work undone was clouding the Prophet’s mind. In its mind, rage and revenge seemed to overtake reason and efficiency.

Which was to Orodan’s benefit as the Prophet also suffered multiple direct strikes from the Mantle-empowered Almyra’s beams, Alagameth’s arrows and Captain-General Ryzlan’s divine lance. Furthermore, so focused on enraged offense it was that its focus on defense was lesser. And with that lapse… the wounds scored upon it were far deeper.

The moment they had been waiting for.

Even as Orodan was pummeled into paste, he felt a sickening source of energy coalesce from Almyra’s direction. The Prophet was enraged and unfocused on the damage it was taking, trusting that its Mantle would empower it with power enough to heal through the wounds.

He felt a deep pull of energy from his soul, and a super-charged beam of power from Almyra came forth. The only thing he saw before he tightly guarded his soul… was a blaze of pink.

He had been on the receiving end of this fell power once.

These were none other than the shards.

Critical components to their plan of attack, sourced by Talricto, pilfered from various factions across the cosmos. Invading pieces of a foreign Boundless One, the one that had destroyed Orodan’s original System and left him without one shortly after he’d empowered the time loops himself. And they’d stolen not one shard, but twenty, and assembled them into a much larger crystal which was in Almyra’s hands.

Unfortunately, the sudden introduction of these fell things was quite noticeable and cut through the Prophet’s red rage like a cold dousing of ice. The Administrator’s bloodlust was instantly cut short as terror and immediate recognition flashed in its eyes. At the last moment it managed to divert all power towards defending against the tremendously charged attack from the shards.

The Prophet got off of him and Talricto barely yanked Orodan away with a dimensional step before the imminent impact.

Doom, terror and madness erupted.

System energy, pushed to its absolute limits, clashed with the power channeled through the crystal. The dimensional boundary was shattered, and the mirror realm was destroyed yet again, undoing Almyra’s work in repairing it since the last fight.

The shockwave sent everyone flying away, and stormy remnants of pink energy fizzled out in the aftermath.

Talricto was out cold. The dimensional spider’s final attempt to limit the destruction had saved Lonvoron from being completely obliterated, but he had failed to prevent the dimensional boundaries of the mirror realm from shattering.

There were consequences all around. Alagameth had shielded the Conclave but looked haggard. And Almyra, the deliverer of that fell strike, wasn’t faring well.

The shards were fell objects originating from a foreign Boundless One who wished naught but ill upon the denizens of the cosmos. Naturally, there was a price to that attack, and his ally didn’t look very good. She looked to be in a daze; using the Mantle to shield herself at the last moment had drawn deeply of her reserves and she had to pull upon the Blessing he’d bestowed.

And Orodan’s Blessing, it had its limits. Not on his end, but in how much power the recipient could draw upon and utilize before they began to strain or damage themselves. And Almyra had evidently found and exceeded that limit as her breathing was shaky and blood was leaking from her mouth and nose.

However, the result of the attack was clear.

The Prophet wasn’t in good shape either. But not in the way they would have liked.

The Administrator’s human guise yet remained, a sign that they hadn’t managed to strike a critical blow by any means. But its breathing was haggard, and while it was bleeding from the nose, a clear sign that it had drawn too freely from the Mantle’s power. And yet, it remained mostly undamaged.

The shard’s beams were utterly deadly towards anything they directly hit. But that was that critical issue… landing that hit. And by the looks of it, while decently exerted and forced to overdraw upon its Mantle, the Prophet remained mostly fine.

The enemy’s gaze swept across its arrayed foe, a contemptuous look in the zealot’s eyes.

“Pathetic.”

It was a single word, a pronouncement. Yet… it was not wrong, and the desired effect was achieved.

Talricto shrank, Alagameth’s confidence wavered and even Almyra wavered. A mighty assault, and still nothing? Their trump card used and the Prophet still managed to defend against it? Just how powerful was an Administrator?

“Heresy the likes of which I have never seen. Sacrilege of the foulest like… to desecrate the sacred bounds of our cosmos with the tools of that wicked invader… there can be no greater sin,” the Prophet solemnly recited. “It seems I have been underestimating you and your ilk. No longer.”

Its declaration was akin to a death knell for the rest of them.

The crystal they’d assembled had unraveled into twenty separate shards once more, and the Prophet’s gaze immediately went towards these pieces floating in the void, some having sailed off in different directions.

“I thought myself above assistance… but you are not the only one with allies, time looper,” the Prophet said snapping its fingers and opening a rift. “Those foul things can never be allowed to see the light of day again.”

The Prophet immediately set off to retrieve the shards which were scattered and sent flying in different directions, and before Almyra or Orodan could consider going after it, multiple powerful presences came through the rift, halting their advance.

Embodiers.

Orodan’s face took on a grim set as the situation went from bad to worse. The Prophet had Embodiment-level beings ready to aid it?

The first, a familiar presence. One Orodan had sent fleeing at the beginning of this long loop.

Ur-Vah’sahn the Harmonious. The gigantic Living Crystal which sought to assimilate all it encountered. Its two remaining pieces had fused once again, and while it wasn’t corrupted, it did eye Orodan with a palpable desire for revenge.

Yet, it wasn’t the only Embodier present; more came through. A million-headed Embodiment-level hydra. A turtle wielding a staff, an exceptionally serene look upon its face, and a living thunderstorm which was more elemental force of nature than organic being.

Four Embodiment-level enemies, and the Living Crystal wasn’t even the strongest of them. In fact, Ur-Vah’sahn, despite its desire for revenge, trembled with fear at the sight of Orodan. It likely knew that Orodan had grown even stronger since their last fight.

Thus, in a cunning move, it instead swayed to face Alagameth, who it felt itself the better match for. While the turtle turned to face Almyra.

This of course left Orodan facing two Embodiers, as they’d correctly identified him as the most severe threat.

Embodiers occupying their attention while the Prophet was swiftly recovering the shards so that they couldn’t be used against it. And once that happened… there would be no way of besting the Administrator in a straight fight. The noose around their neck was tightening, and Orodan had to wonder if this would be it for this long loop.

At least the fight occurring planetside was going their way, with the Collective’s voidfleets finishing off the remaining Gods loyal to the Prophet. But for how long would that last once they lost up here in the void?

A weak voice next to him interrupted him.

“Orodan…”

“Talricto… this isn’t the time, I’ll move you to safety, just flee. This is my battle,” Orodan said.

“No, no. Just… help me step into the dimensional boundary will you? I can make my way out from there,” the spider said.

“I’ll see you next time my friend, my mentor,” Orodan sincerely said as he helped Talricto phase into the gaps between the boundary.

“That may be sooner than you think,” the dimensional spider muttered before vanishing with Orodan’s aid.

He had little time to reflect on the dimensional spider’s words before it vanished. Especially with two Embodiers sizing him up like prey.

There was no underestimation or arrogance upon the many heads of the hydra or the flashing bolts of the cloud either. They were both taking him very seriously.

“Why aid that zealot?” Orodan asked.

“Silence invader. The Prophet’s methods are… questionable, but it showed us mercy long ago,” the hydra spoke. “If you were not the agent of a foreign Boundless, I might have even said I bear no personal grudge against you. But as it stands… the foreign power whose wicked shards you employ is a blight upon reality.”

“I’m no invader… but if you want to fight, who am I to deny that?” Orodan queried, a positively bloodthirsty smile on his face. “I sent the last Embodier I fought running for the stars. I wonder if you two will prove the same.”

The million headed hydra wasn’t stupid. The moment Orodan began enflaming both his arms with fire, it moved almost immediately and a dozen heads shot in and began attempting to grapple and restrain him.

Orodan roared as his flame-infused arms shot out and grabbed two of the incoming heads, putting them into headlocks under each arm and burning them off. Of course, more came, and attempting to counter the grappling of a million-headed snake was far harder than he’d expected.

[Wrestling 86 → Wrestling 87]

But it wasn’t a challenge without its gains. And Orodan was a skilled enough wrestler himself that he knew how to counter almost all of its attempts to grapple, restrain and pull him apart. Furthermore, his various skills related to raw strength made him far stronger than it, especially in a grapple.

It would be akin to a man attempting to wrestle a solid steel nail the size of his palm. Locally, Orodan was stronger than it and could bring far more of his raw physicality to bear than it could in such tight quarters.

[Wrestling 87 → Wrestling 88]

Another level, until Orodan remembered that he was in a battle against two Embodiers and not just one. The living thunderstorm passed right through where he and the heads were grappling, and the powerful lightning caused the cells of his body to disintegrate on the surface and his muscles to spasm.

[Lightning Resistance 48 → Lightning Resistance 51]

“A resistance towards lightning?” the hydra said in surprise. “The invaders have sent a powerful champion indeed…”

The thunderstorm cloud was surprised and frustrated too; its main form of offense not nearly as effective as it would like. Without the ability to heal, Orodan was certain he would have eventually died, even with Adept-level Lightning Resistance. But with Harmony of Vitality on his side any minor damage was repaired instantly.

“You can heal yourself too?” the hydra asked, incredulous. “No matter. We shall simply pin you in place until the Prophet is ready. And it remains to be seen how many times you can regenerate. I, the second oldest hydra in the universe, shall lose to no one in a battle of attrition.”

“A battle of attrition you say?” Orodan curiously asked, continuing to eradicate its head yet confirming that they did indeed reform quite quickly.

“Yes. Tremble in fear invader, for you face the universe’s only Embodier of… the Eternal Soul Reactor.”

For a moment, Orodan froze.

“…what?”

“Let the enemy Boundless know… your slayer was a Mythical Embodier! With my skill, I can match the full power of a world core! My energy is endless!”

Zaessythra was madly laughing in his head, and Orodan could only be shocked into silence.

This was…

…the saddest thing he’d heard!

“That’s… it?”

Even the hydra stopped grappling him for a moment, the absurdity and unintended disrespect of the words striking its very core.

Orodan wasn’t sure whether he should laugh at the ridiculous downgrade of the skill, or cry at how butchered it was. This was Eternal Soul Reactor?

Orodan looked closely and noticed that indeed the hydra was churning a large amount of soul energy, even at the Embodiment-level. And yet… even at the Elite-level Orodan could have generated far more energy than this. Right away the difference was apparent. The hydra’s technique with Eternal Soul Reactor was too… safe.

Where Orodan was a mindless madman who would push body, soul and mind towards greater and greater heights of pain in order to squeeze more power out of his soul, this hydra was tame and maintained a sustainable pace.

Very safe; wise too. And it answered the question of how other beings without his willpower might use the skill.

But when matched against him, an utter anomaly, the comparison was an unfair one.

And Orodan had had enough of this.

The hydra was a defensive specialist Embodier, excellent at restraining people and wearing them down through attrition. The thunderstorm should have been the offense, but his resistance skill rendered it ineffective. While he was certain he could eventually kill the hydra and the elemental too, he simply didn’t have the time.

And if his foes refused to let him get enough space for a proper strike, then Orodan would make some of his own.

Both his arms were overflowing with fire. And instead of directing them outwards, he launched Smites of Abrupt Deliverance in both fists, smashing his knuckles against each other.

[Fire Magic Mastery 63 → Fire Magic Mastery 64]

The shockwave severely damaged him, but it had the side effect of also obliterating almost a hundred-thousand heads of the hydra grappling him and sending the thundercloud flying as it shrieked in pain.

He was getting close to formulating a new skill, but not yet. He needed just a few more insights, to bring everything together.

With the space cleared, Orodan saw that his allies were all in various degrees of struggle. Alagameth was barely holding on against the Living Crystal, while Almyra was the better of the turtle but unable to get past its incredibly tough and energy resistant shell it was frequently hiding within.

If it was him alone, Orodan might not have done it. But under these circumstances, with others relying on him, fighting dirty was only fair.

[Dimensional Step 37 → Dimensional Step 38]

The boundary was crossed, and a startled Living Crystal could only vibrate in alarm one last time before a flame-infused Smite of Abrupt Deliverance collided with it. It had been too preoccupied with attempting to finish off Alagameth, too trusting in the other two Embodiers to keep Orodan pinned down.

It was at the Embodiment-level, but Orodan had forced it to split at the start of the loops, and one of the three pieces was gone. Naturally, it was weaker than it had been, and Orodan had grown monumentally stronger, having learned how to consistently use the attack he’d defeated it with in the first place.

And preying upon opportunities and distractions mid-battle was the very essence of combat.

[Combat Mastery 117 → Combat Mastery 118]

The collision and subsequent explosion of fire eradicated large chunks of Orodan’s own body, but it killed the Living Crystal instantly as it exploded in a shower of crystalline fragments. The shockwave threatened to level multiple star systems if not for Alagameth redirecting the energy via spatial rifts.

[New Title → Embodiment Slayer]

And with that, his score against Ur-Vah’sahn was settled.

“Can you occupy the thunderstorm?” Orodan asked, giving the spatial spider no time to respond as he immediately moved onto the turtle sage Almyra was futilely slinging spells against. “Move aside and fight the hydra, that one might be a good match for you.”

Indeed, the moment Orodan appeared, the turtle harassing Almyra with spells and its stubborn defense became hyper aware of him and moved to gain distance while firing a plethora of spells. But he refused to allow this.

For starters, it didn’t specialize in spellfire. Its spells were powered by mana and Orodan’s Mana Resistance simply let him power right through the barrage.

The turtle sage was the strongest of the enemy’s group of Embodiment-level beings. Immediately, its spells focused on empowering its defenses, and it hunkered down for a trade of blows against him.

It wasn’t bad at all, and Orodan could see how it would win against most mages with its annoying barrage of weak spells which provided cover for it to close the distance and hammer them with fists. All the while its near impenetrable defense weathered their spells. Even Almyra’s System energy beams produced from the Mantle were evaded or deflected off its shell at odd angles which minimized the damage.

However it wasn’t a true melee specialist. Orodan was a warrior and immediately identified that he was its better in technique. For as they exchanged fists he realized that while it would beat almost any other mage, against someone who knew how to throw a punch, it wasn’t as good as it thought.

Furthermore, Orodan was a shield-user and had a good grasp of the concepts behind defense, which meant that if anyone was well-suited to prying a tough defense apart, it was him.

The turtle’s blows were quick and its fist incredibly tough, but it was more of a defensive specialist than an offensive one. And Orodan had dismantled enough passive warriors who preferred to hide behind their defenses and lacked mobility and adaptability.

He slipped its jab and returned a booming fire-infused punch to its soft head. A move which immediately had it on the defensive as it realized he was the better unarmed fighter. Two more attempts to trade blows left it with bruises on its head and it began turtling up and trying to act even more defensive.

Unfortunately, a turtle shell was much like a heavy suit of armor and a shield. And Orodan knew the techniques for getting past those.

With fingers extended, he delivered precise and devastating knife hand blows to the vulnerable openings of the shell which forced the head further out. And a few more feints and some actual blows later it was vulnerable.

Enough for a flame-infused Smite of Abrupt Deliverance to land upon its head.

[Unarmed Combat Mastery 99 → Unarmed Combat Mastery 100]

[New Title → Unarmed Combat Grandmaster]

[Combat Mastery 118 → Combat Mastery 119]

An Embodier focusing purely on defense was no joke. Even the bruises upon its head turned into a form of armor which further added to its defense. Whatever concept it embodied came out in full force; he was far from killing it.

But he had struck it a decent wound and sent it flying away from the battle, cracking its defense and teaching it a lesson in fisticuffs.

Nearby, his ally the previous looper was doing a far better job fighting the hydra. And Alagameth was utilizing spatial rifts to separate and tear off parts of the living thunderstorm.

The battle almost looked like it was going well.

Which was why the cruel reminder that their main enemy had temporarily left the field hit him.

And it hit in the form of a vile pink beam of horrifying magic.

Pink energy subsumed his vision at the direct hit. And once more, Orodan returned to that other place, far, far away… the seat of power of a universal horror which reveled in sadism, in suffering.

A Boundless One. Not the one within the bowels of the System empowering it all, but something foreign to their universe, something far worse.

Within the familiar dimension of terror, of pink, red and yellow flesh and grotesque growths everywhere, two terrible galaxies, lost to this fell terror opened like eyelids, staring at him.

Last time, Orodan’s soul which was made of the old System, was terrified. This time, with a System of his own and a will forged of iron and quenched in the well of Infinity, he stared back.

Unafraid, undaunted.

The foreign Boundless was baffled, surprised.

“What… what is this? Mortal, but Boundless…? Short-sighted folly!” it declared loudly as the force of a universe slammed into his mind.

And yet, he held.

“How is it folly?” Orodan asked in turn.

“That concept… none have embodied it… none have become it. Only madness and the loss of self await you, little thing.”

“Perhaps it does… but I have faith in my will. My mind has never broken before, and it certainly will not now. After all… I have a grand ambition to achieve.”

And unlike last time where he’d been at its mercy for an unimaginable amount of time. Now, he simply shook off its fell influence and opened his eyes. And as he entered the real world, he could still feel its shock, that he’d exited the mental space so easily. Zaessythra, whose reactions and feelings he could normally track, seemed entirely unaware of what had occurred in that mental confrontation.

But that thing wasn’t his target in this loop. The wicked book-wielding zealot in front of him was.

In the real world, a blast of white soul energy emanated outwards as the shard’s beam was utterly useless.

The Prophet could only frown at what it saw.

“I knew it. You are a servant of that fell power, are you not? Yet even it’s servants should not be able to ignore the power of these shards…” the Prophet muttered. “Still, you can be slain through mundane means, invader.”

It now possessed the shards, and it still held its Mantle. The situation was bleak, even if the planetside battle had been won and the voidfleets of the Collective were coming to reinforce them.

Almyra was exhausted, as were Alagameth and the forces of the Conclave. Nobody was in any shape to fight an Administrator besides Orodan, and he certainly couldn’t win one-on-one when it had been toying with them the entire time thus far.

By all reason, it seemed that they were doomed and he would be back in Ogdenborough shortly.

Though, the trembling of the dimensional fabric did not go unnoticed to anyone present.

Something was coming. Something big.

The boundary rippled and a ragged-looking thing came forth.

“…Talricto? I thought I told you to get away,” Orodan angrily scolded.

“I did… but then I somehow found myself inside a nice dwarven throne room, and before I knew it this shiny crown was practically calling for me to come take it.”

Orodan looked at Talricto.

Talricto looked back at Orodan.

“Who have you drawn here?”

“Oh don’t look so glum. They already weren’t happy about me stealing those dreadful shards of theirs,” Talricto replied. “What sort of King hides at the center of a galaxy and refuses to leave his throne room?”

And with the rupturing of space and the dimensional boundary, the question was answered.

He was short, that much was obvious enough, but in the way a dwarf was. Which meant that he was twice as wide as a bulky human. Clad in resplendent armor which Orodan felt was even tougher than the shell of the turtle he’d just fought and wielding an ominous battleaxe, was a dwarf who was the very picture of regal.

Very regal, though missing one critical thing to complete the aura of kingliness. A crown. And very, very angry about it.

“I’ll have each of your legs slowly plucked off and roasted,” the dwarf said, glaring at Talricto. “My crown, return it and I may kill you on the spot as mercy.”

The Prophet itself frowned at the newcomer.

“King of Kings… before these pests rope you into joining their escapade, how about we come to an agreement? I slay the pest and return your crown, and you leave. How simple is that?” the Prophet suggested.

This dwarf, who was at the Embodiment-level and far stronger than any other Embodier Orodan had seen, looked almost agreeable to that. That was, until he caught sight of the shards in the Prophet’s hand.

“The shards, return them to me. They were stolen from my abode recently,” the Embodier dwarf demanded.

The Prophet’s eyes narrowed in challenge.

“Carrying the artifacts of a false Boundless is a grave sin… do you intend to commit sacrilege here today?”

For a moment the tension was palpable.

And then, the dwarf’s battleaxe moved.

It wasn’t quite on the same level of the Warrior, but it was damned close. And the Prophet similarly channeled a monstrous amount of power into its book and met the strike.

[Spatial Fold 90 → Spatial Fold 92]

It took all Orodan had to divert the shockwaves of that meeting so that it went outside the galaxy and not within. And even then his Spatial Fold nearly ruptured as he almost lost control over the spell.

“Eventually, one of these is going to slip free and destroy your entire galaxy,” Orodan said, looking at an exhausted and battered Almyra who came up from behind. “If there was ever a time to capitalize on it being distracted, that would be now.”

Alagameth and Almyra had forced the two enemy Embodiers to retreat, and the turtle Orodan had punched was also nowhere to be found. Perhaps what should have been an easy victory turning so hard-fought had scared them. And Embodiers by nature, hadn’t made it to such a high level by being too reckless and death seeking.

Furthermore, the voidfleets of the Collective had won on the ground and had finally arrived to reinforce them in the void. Not that it mattered much in this context.

“But how?” Alstatyn asked, stepping out of the crown voidship on a floating platform, Fenton alongside. “The Prophet is simply too strong. Do you think people fear the Administrators for no reason? Even the King of Kings of the dwarven race is merely trading blows to present a tough image. Eventually, he shall be overpowered too if he does not retreat.”

Certainly, strong as the dwarf was, the Prophet still looked to have the edge. Though credit where it was due, he was forcing the Administrator to fight seriously all throughout, which was more than could be said for their motley band.

Plans, schemes, stratagems… what use were they without power?

“There’s only one way,” Almyra began. “The Mantle. If we can separate him from it…”

“Easier said than done,” Alstatyn said.

“No… not necessarily. We just need someone capable of getting close to its Mantle with the one we have,” the previous looper clarified. “With enough power, a Mantle wielder can disarm another one. There are historical records of it occurring in battles between the Mage and the Custodian. And the latest battle between Administrators a million years ago was between the Prophet and the Warrior, and it was disarmed and wounded. It can be done. Just… not by me.”

Orodan gave her a knowing look.

“I do not crave the power of the Mantle, if that’s what concerns you. To me, it’s but a trinket I need to study,” he honestly said.

“I do not think you do, though I did think you wanted it initially,” Almyra admitted and then her fists clenched. “All this time, all these loops… was I never meant to be enough? Even with all these schemes and stratagems, what good am I? Maybe you were meant to be the time looper after all… your power has become evident enough during all this fighting.”

“And we would not be anywhere near this point without your plans. My headlong charges into danger would have reset the loop a thousand times over,” Orodan countered. “Come, we cannot tarry any longer.”

She wore it like an overcoat, so slipping the cultivator-style robes off and handing them to him was done without any awkwardness. He had worn them once before, when he was but a disembodied soul warring to return and exact vengeance upon the Reject.

Yet, it hadn’t felt right. Not natural, even now as he thought of donning them.

Then, inspiration struck, and he chose not to wear them like clothes… but to instead bundle the robes up in his hand…

…and treat them like a rag.

What could be more natural for him, who started every loop using the rag to clean his bedside table?

The King of Kings backpedaled after another clash against the Prophet which Alagameth prevented from shattering Lonvoron. And with the distance between them, both the dwarf and the Prophet noticed the titanic gathering of soul energy nearby.

“You would hand a Mantle to an invader? Sacrilege! If the borders of our universe were not under constant assault, the others would come to exact retribution as well,” the Administrator said, charging up its own Mantle for a confrontation.

“I’m not an invader,” Orodan stated. “And the only one who shall receive retribution today is you.”

The void was meant to be dark, a contrast which helped illuminate the innumerable stars spanning its inky blackness. What it was not meant to be, was bright. Bright enough that most people watching were blinded as everything was subsumed with a white glow.

Orodan’s soul burned with ferocity as he poured soul energy into the bundled up rag in his hands. Power enough to destroy multiple star systems, all funneled into the Reject’s Mantle.

[Incipience of Infinity 142 → Incipience of Infinity 143]

And it responded in kind, granting incredible amounts of System energy in turn. Unlike most connections to the System, the Mantle’s was incredibly strong and durable. Capable of receiving titanic amounts of energy. The standard way of accessing the Mantle involved pulling System energy from it, but Orodan took that a step further and supplied it with energy of his own in tandem.

Double the power.

The Prophet’s eyes widened in alarm at the display. Mighty as the Administrator was, even it couldn’t draw so much power from its Mantle at once, not without causing harm to itself.

Orodan however cared not for such things. His threshold of too much energy was higher than most others. Even the Prophet it seemed, could not match him in this.

The Administrator didn’t stand idle. It fired beams of System energy towards him, yet Orodan stood his ground and slowly advanced, letting the Mantle in his hands absorb the power.

Hells, he even began cleaning the opposing beams right out of existence as they were mid-flight towards him.

“What fell power is this…? Does the false Boundless supply its champion so endlessly? How can your body tolerate so much energy?!”

There it was…

…fear.

The psychological crack he was looking for.

Orodan roared, a war cry of defiance and the determination to do the impossible. The rag in his hand was held like a shield as he advanced through tumultuous barrages of the Prophet’s beams.

Light, System energy, raw Eldritch power, the Prophet threw caution to the wind and began throwing it all towards him at full power. And for a moment, he slowed.

But then…

…a spider appeared on his foe’s shoulder. As did another person from behind, desperately holding onto the Prophet’s arm, pushing it just a bit further towards Orodan’s own Mantle and attempting to cause a distraction.

“Alstatyn! No!”

Almyra rushed towards them desperately, but it was too late.

The Prophet was rooted in place. Talricto’s spindly legs tinkering with something from atop its shoulder. A ring upon the Prophet’s finger? And Alstatyn’s death grip upon its arm attempting to pry the book from its grasp was also a contributing to hasten Orodan’s advance.

It was the height of ridiculousness, for a mere peak-Transcendent to even cause a distraction for an Administrator. But for the Prophet it was a deathly serious matter. Even the slightest lapse in its concentration, a singular muscular twitch to rid itself of these pests, and Orodan would disarm it of its Mantle.

It was a battle of energy generation, and while Orodan had no experience in using a Mantle, he made up for it with sheer power and endless energy. The tyrant three on Alastaia, the Eldritch Avatar on Guzuhar, and even the time loop mechanism itself… all these had tried besting him in a contest of energy generation and every time Orodan had come out on top.

It was the sort of battle Orodan Wainwright would never lose.

Finally, Orodan got to a point where he was right in front of the Prophet, System energy clashing against System energy. Yet his side had the added advantage of his own bottomless soul energy.

At this point Talricto was prepared to hop off the Prophet’s shoulder, ready to flee as the dwarven King of King’s approached, happy to carve into the Prophet’s shoulder just to reach the thieving spider.

However, Talricto’s final words before departing were quite ominous.

“Dimensional rings... none of their owners seem take securing them seriously.”

And with those words, Talricto reached a spindly leg in and brought something out.

A set of robes, specifically, the replica Mantle Fenton and he had painstakingly worked upon.

It looked like any ordinary set of cultivator robes, which was how the real Mantle in Orodan’s hands looked. However, the only difference was what was within it.

A lake’s worth of world-devouring acid.

Still, the robe remained inactivated and Talricto fled as the dwarf followed him. Orodan admitted to being slightly worried, especially since the dimensional spider was in such poor shape from all the fighting. But he supposed he should be grateful that Talricto hadn’t died at least.

He was now perilously close to the Prophet, on the verge of disarming the Mantle, but it still wasn’t enough. The Prophet was managing to hold him back and they were at a standstill. Yet King Alstatyn was still hanging on.

“Sinner! Heathen! Do not dare approach any closer! If you think of purging the truth from me… I shall torment you for eternity!”

The Prophet’s voice was full of panic and fear. Yet Orodan didn’t care about the Administrator as much as he did the man practically hanging off its arm, trying to loosen its grip upon the book the zealot held.

“Alstatyn, let go and flee!” Orodan roared.

“I’m sorry Mister Wainwright… if I do, I fear it shall gain the advantage. You must promise me good ser… that you shall ensure Almyra and I are married upon your final loop.”

And then, against all expectations, the King let go of the Prophet’s arm…

…and activated the replica robe with copious amounts of terrifying empowered acid within it.

It was the single stupidest thing he’d ever seen, and that was rich coming from an idiot like him. And yet it worked, for even as King Alstatyn Von Flemethy disintegrated and Almyra’s mournful wail of denial echoed through the void… the distraction was priceless. Even if it was one Orodan would never have wanted.

The Prophet shrieked in agony. The acid was severely painful, even for it. And with the Mantle versus Mantle duel going on, it had no energy to spare towards healing. It was a critical distraction as the Administrator wasn’t very used to pain.

When was the last time it engaged in a serious fight against an equal?

This caused it to slip up, and using this opportunity, Orodan’s hand shot forth and the Mantle in his hand touched the Mantle in the Prophet’s.

This was a unique opening. As now, with the two objects physically touching, Orodan had access to not one Mantle, but two.

And a direct avenue to the Prophet’s mind.

The mental battle was immediate and utterly violent. Orodan spared no expense, to do anything less would have been a spit in the face of the King’s brave sacrifice.

The Prophet was scared, terrified. Orodan pressed this advantage hard, with characteristic violence. He flared Incipience of Infinity to its maximal and then past even that as his mind began to take on the terrifying aspect of Infinity itself, and he nearly hesitated, feeling fear for what might become of him if he delved too deeply.

Yet, the warm tendrils of reassurance from Zaessythra gave him strength. A light in the darkness, should he lose himself to that maddening abyss.

And with those thoughts out of the way…

…Orodan Wainwright descended unto Infinity once more.

[Incipience of Infinity 143 → Incipience of Infinity 144]

Orodan, no… Infinity. Infinity was endless, and it would show this sycophantic worshiper what true Boundlessness was.

Infinity channeled its raw power, the physical form and the skills it had acquired were now far stronger than the last time it had been awakened. This in turn allowed for the generation of an acceptable amount of power.

The false prophet before Infinity trembled with exertion, unwilling to meet the gaze but still fighting to hold onto its control over that book.

A futile effort, as there was no besting what was endless. A message from the needless System came by, denoting another level of infinity, but it was a gratuitous message. For adding to endlessness was a pointless endeavor.

Infinity would take over both of these so-called Mantles, and then it would ascend, conquering all other compatriots of the false prophet and then subsuming the mediocre Boundless One at the center of it all. And from there… it would expand infinitely, boundlessly and all of reality would become part of it.

But… what was this voice, this terrifying scream?

Infinity grew… anxious?

Impossible.

Yet, the volume of the voice continued increasing. A roar… of pain? No… of defiance.

What was this?

Who was this being known as Orodan Wainwright?

And what was with this visceral reaction to seeing a young boy flying up from behind this false prophet with a pink shard in hand?

[Incipience of Infinity 145 → Incipience of Infinity 146]

Orodan came to, wrestling that horrid aspect of his will down with brute force.

“Fenton!” Orodan roared in fury. “Do not!”

But it was too late. Fenton Penny, his student… had already plunged the shard deep into the back of the terrified Prophet whose attention was solely focused upon the terror in front of him.

The Prophet buckled, screaming in agony as foreign power ravaged its soul. And Orodan, he still felt Infinity attempting to regain control. His own will demanding he run rampant and truly tap into it.

He would not lie… he was terrified of it. Of the power of his own soul.

But he refused to bow before it.

And in a final act of defiance before it could think of regaining control…

…he yanked the book from the Prophet’s hand and smashed both Mantles together as hard as he could.

The cycling of energy between two Mantles was too much. These were objects meant to channel System energy, the most powerful items in System space. But even they had their limits as Orodan threw all of Infinity’s remaining power into them.

And with a horrific explosion…

…Orodan knew only darkness.

Or so he thought.

They’d been fighting in the void, but he was now upon the ground, somehow.

A handful of cells had survived the cataclysm and he began reforming. But it was a slow thing as his very System was mangled and he had to repair it. Thankfully, he’d already built his from the ground up and knew just how to set it right.

And as he did and the grogginess of his mind cleared, he heard a foul voice, different to what he remembered.

“You dare! The grace! The provenance! It is gone! Gone! How could you? How could you?!” a mutilated voice boomed, sounding very much like a God. “The false provenance did not even pay me heed when I saw it… you, you shall die for what you have done.”

Orodan wanted to move, but he was too late. He felt, saw and heard a tearing noise.

His blood ran cold at the sight as Fenton was thrown towards him, a gaping wound in his chest.

The boy landed near him, his breathing shallow.

“Damn… guess me mum’s coat wasn’t enough to protect me from that…”

Fenton had a gaping hole through his chest, the protective magical quilts sewn in by Fanny Penny having done little to stop the attack. The only thing keeping the boy alive was the various enchantments and artifacts he had on, working overtime to patch the damage. Yet, for some odd reason they weren’t working as efficiently.

“I can heal-

“No ser, no. I know how this goes… I’m certain you’ll give that ugly git a good beatin’, but what then? You’ll be right back in bed once the rest of its fellows arrive won’t you? I don’t want to watch that… I don’t want to see everything I’ve worked for over the past few months vanish,” Fenton said. “I’ve turned the enchantments off. Let me go so I don’t have to see it.”

Orodan shook his head in denial of what was happening. His fists clenched hard enough that worlds could shatter

“Fenton…! Why? Why have you done this?” Orodan angrily demanded.

Not again. This horrid sting… why should he have to suffer it yet again?

“You walk around like the world’s on your shoulders ser. Lendin’ everyone a hand… but when’s the last time someone did that for you?” Fenton asked, coughing weakly in-between his words. “I just thought… that since you go around solvin’ everyone else’s problems, for once somebody ought to try solving yours. Seems I wasn’t quite up to that task… sorry Mister Orodan.”

“You idiot… you damned fool…” Orodan muttered, his voice threatening to lose its steady nature. Ironic, that he of all people would be referring to someone else with those words. “I don’t need anyone to solve my issues. My battles are my own! There was no need for this, I come back, you do not.”

“I know that ser… just didn’t want to go back to bein’ little Fen the scrap town assistant whose mum was dyin’. Thought I’d try my hand at bein’ a hero like you…” his student trailed off, his voice getting fainter. But unexpectedly, he produced something from the pocket of his mother’s coat. “Here… take this ser, you told me that you can take somethin’ small back with you, right?”

“Yes, but, what is this Fenton?”

“Somethin’ to help people remember,” the lad said.

To remember? Orodan’s eyes widened at the implication as he held the small but intricately enchanted orb. Just at the sight of it he could tell that it was meant to hold thoughts, feelings… memories. And within was a bank holding one set already.

Fenton’s.

“Hold onto that, and when you see me again… rap me over the head with it won’t you ser?” the boy asked, the last of his lifeblood draining out. “I’ll see you next time Mister Orodan… thanks for everything. Hmm… bleedin’ to death’s awfully slow, hate to ask it of you, but would you mind moving this along?”

Every bit of Orodan’s mind protested the decision. He didn’t want to do it. And yet, the honor within him, stubborn that he respect the decision of another, would not relent. And so, as he’d done once for Balastion Novar, Orodan Wainwright gently drained the last of Fenton Penny’s vitality.

Fenton’s breathing stopped, and Orodan looked skyward, taking a deep breath and letting it out. His trembling hand closed the lad’s eyes and he then lowered his head in silence. A moment of respect.

“Be at peace Fenton Penny… a warrior, a hero,” Orodan proclaimed quietly.

Just one more person added to the list of those who’d given their lives for him.

Was this fate? First upon Guzuhar, then in Novar’s Peak and now upon Lonvoron. Every time Orodan fought the Eldritch it always ended like this… with him being the last one standing.

Almyra was down, having spent the last of her power protecting Lonvoron from the catastrophic destruction of the two Mantles. And the only thing left standing was that grotesque and savage-looking Fallen Void Archon, golden chains surrounding its form as it flickered in and out of remaining a regular being of flesh versus a glowing being of fell power. It had no Mantle, no System and was grievously wounded by the acid assault they’d carried out.

His hands clenched around his faithful blade and trusty shield as he got to his feet.

This wasn’t over.

If Fenton had wanted to be a hero like him… then perhaps it was time Orodan lived up to that moniker. He’d lectured his first mentor Adeltaj Simarji once, that rhetoric and plucky speeches made not a hero, victory did.

And it was time to claim it.

To the side, Almyra was weeping over the fallen body of King Alstatyn, her features etched with terror at the thought of permanently losing him now that she was no longer a time looper. The tapestry of fate was broken, the river of time shattered. The explosion of the Mantles had been so catastrophic that even the metaphysical and esoteric parts of the cosmos had suffered irreparable harm. Even if Orodan wanted to bring everyone back, it would require repairing at least the flow of time first, and the crazed beast looming over the dispirited previous looper certainly wouldn’t allow that. And past that… its fellow Administrators who were certainly en route wouldn’t leave him be either.

Not after what he’d done.

“Pitiful worm… all those plans, all those schemes, and an entire time loop to gain power and yet you fail all the same. Little wonder you were discarded,” the Prophet said with a guttural growl, looming over Almyra. Its form was no longer human, but that of a savage and feral-looking Fallen Void Archon. “I shall enjoy slowly spreading the truth to your veins, whether I have a System or not.”

Orodan put the orb Fenton gave within the space inside his soul.

Three sharp raps of metal on metal tore through the air.

His sword clanged against the metal umbo of his shield, announcing Orodan’s presence.

“No you shall not,” he declared with absolute finality. “All this time you’ve fought those who’ve either fled from you, were defending their homes or were simply caught up in this mess. For too long, Prophet… have you been used to holding the role of hunter, predator. But no more.”

“Invader. I know not from where this pest has secured your aid, but you shall fall all the same. Do not presume yourself a match for me. Even without the Mantle, even without a System, I am beyond you, and you no longer have a Mantle yourself. I am an Administrator anointed by the provider itself, you shall never win.”

“I would not make such declarations so soon, scum,” Orodan spat, hatred in his voice. “I see your wicked voice has changed.”

Orodan’s words were quietly spoken, but loud amidst a seemingly empty world lacking any voidfleets or life upon it. Even the world core of Lonvoron, Orodan felt, was still, having given most of its power to prevent the utter destruction of the planet.

“I am revealed in a form most unsightly, interloper. Before I was an Administrator… I was a God. The first God of the System. The first of a class of failures and servants, meant to remain low while others ascended,” the Prophet reminisced.“Now, without the System, the skill which allowed me to merge my divine domain with the elemental plane of light has fallen apart. But this sacrilege shall be amended soon enough. Once you and her are dealt with”

Orodan’s mind clicked with realization.

“Is that why all those Gods followed you? Because you promised them a way out of the dead end?”

“An obvious conclusion, but merely one part of it. Tell me… did this cowardly little mage not tell you why they were so eager to side with me? And why in particular most of these Gods you fought were in some way affiliated with the Blackworth Collective?” the Prophet asked. “It is the tyranny of the crown, or more specifically, the unchecked iron fist of the former time looper who you defend. How easy it was, to promise these jilted faithful of a better life, brighter futures, after they had been so coldly treated and suppressed under the despotic rule of a paranoid craven.”

Almyra, could only shrink inwards at the accusations, cradling a tattered scrap of the fallen King Alstatyn’s clothes.

“Hah! She does not even refute it! This is the caliber of being you align yourself with, invader. One whose fear of the truth led her to mistreating the very allies who were on her side to begin with. Under such tyranny, why would these slighted Gods not come to me? Especially when I could offer a way out of divinity and a return to the material plane?” the Prophet madly posed. “But enough. Your leniency in allowing me to speak shall be your undoing. I have a better sense of what my limits are now without the System. You will die now.”

“You are beyond me, this I freely admit. But we shall see for how long that holds true,” Orodan uttered, challenge in his heart and fatal determination in his gaze. “Prophet. You are a wicked zealot, a despotic menace upon the cosmos. For too long have you ruined countless innocent lives. I proclaim you a coward, a craven… a tyrant. You hunt those afraid of you and those trying to protect their loved ones from your foul plague. But I say enough. Today, here and now, you will stand and face someone who fears you not, and we shall see how much of a hunter you truly are. You have terrorized the fearful and the desperate; now try terrorizing a warrior. I, Orodan Wainwright, challenge you to single combat.”

“A warrior? Single combat?” it asked, mocking disbelief upon the timbre of its monstrous voice. “A lone man, a mere human, daring to challenge I who has spread the truth of our creator’s light for so long? Allow me to divest you of your delusions little mortal. You are powerful… so much potential within you. Once you are fallen, I shall dissect your soul and uncover your secrets. How you caused me to flinch, how you’ve destroyed the Mantles, which other Boundless One backs you… I shall discover it all. The craven you stand for, she was discarded by the System as a failed time looper. But the boy… he bore all the tell-tale signs of someone being groomed to be the next. Fortunate that I slew him.”

Orodan’s blood boiled at this worm’s taunts. Fenton would be avenged.

“You are mistaken, scum. None other assist me, certainly no foreign Boundless One. Here and now, I stand before you alone,” Orodan declared. “And you call me otherworlder, but in truth, I’m more similar to the woman you hunt than you thought. She is the previous looper, Fenton as you say, who dealt you a horrid blow was meant to be the next, and I…”

“…I am the current time looper.”

Something in its face clicked with realization, everything making sense for the Administrator now.

The Prophet opened a wormhole to outside of System space in one of its arms as it began slowly walking towards Orodan.

“Your words are without sense. Yet I have learned not to underestimate the power of you disgusting time loopers who would act against our Lord and savior. Come, embrace the gift which you have been denied for far too long; the finality of a true death.”

The Prophet didn’t yet know that Orodan’s time loop encompassed all of reality. However, that was irrelevant. Here and now, his only goal was to win. The rage within him burned, yet it was a tranquil fury, a cold desire for vengeance after Fenton’s death.

And good thing it was, for this was no fight that a hot temper could solve easily.

Man against fallen God, a Transcendent facing one of the five strongest Embodiers of the System… time looper versus Administrator.

Unlike everyone else before him, Orodan was the first and only one who dared to defy the cosmic order and stand against this maddened beast one-on-one when no other Embodiment-level being in System space would. Even the King of Kings had backpedaled when faced with the Prophet’s full wrath.

It was a situation he found himself in a little too often. One-on-one against a foe dramatically his superior.

First, it had been the Eldritch Avatar, and now, it was the Prophet. No matter what he did, there was no escaping the foul taint of the Eldritch throughout his loops. It was a constant, his true foe. And he was alone against it, as always.

“Not alone. Not this time,” Zaessythra reminded.

Even though the Prophet was without Mantle and System, and quite wounded, this was still an Administrator, one of the strongest beings in the universe. This fight, he knew, would take his all in a way nothing before it ever had.

His shield was raised and his sword pointed at the Void Archon’s heart.

And with that gesture… pandemonium began.

Orodan and the Prophet closed the distance between one another. There was little skill and technique to it, just two savage creatures seeking to tear one another apart. A symphony of raw violence and hatred.

His sword met its clawed hand, and the blade impaled its clawed palm only to then be yanked away. His shield bashed against another incoming blow and was pulled away, though Orodan allowed this.

He was disarmed, or so it seemed. It flashed a predatory grin only to hiss as Orodan delivered a crushing punch to its jaw followed by an elbow and a spinning backfist. Any thoughts of gaining an advantage by disarming him were lost as Orodan immediately lunged in and began wrestling the Prophet in a display of grappling.

It was strong, stronger than him. The zealot proved this by tearing limbs off in an attempt to pry Orodan off of its body. Yet, Orodan simply reformed any torn limbs and kept at it, savaging the Prophet like an annoying slug which simply refused to come off. Shockingly enough, without a Mantle, without the System… the difference in strength between them wasn’t as vast as he’d thought.

And to Orodan, fighting from a disadvantage was nothing new as his entire life centered around fighting uphill battles against superior opponents.

Long forgotten experiences returned to his mind, showing their worth as he fought. His enemy had six arms, yet Orodan had wrestled an eight-armed demonic berserker in the past. He grappled, strained and struggled, until at last… like a gigantic tree falling within a forest, the Prophet tumbled to the ground as Orodan succeeded in taking him low.

Three of the Administrator’s six arms were tied up in a grapple as Orodan bit large chunks out of its flesh and delivered thunderous elbows and knees while keeping it restrained.

“Heh! Not so tough, are you? When was the last time you truly fought for your life?” Orodan asked with a violent growl as he continued pounding its head with repeated unarmed blows. “When was the last time you felt real pain and had to fight against an equal opponent?”

Golden chains of burning light emerged from its form and began wrapping around him, just as they had the last time he’d fought it while in this state. The Prophet began bombarding Orodan with furious beams of light drawn directly from the elemental plane while restrained.

Yes, it had no Mantle, and yes, the lack of System was hurting its power dramatically. But even then if this kept up, Orodan would truly die.

Yet, this exact situation was precisely what he wanted. Particularly since the Prophet was calling the light forth from the elemental plane, and Orodan had a skill that he’d developed in preparation for such a situation.

Something he’d been training with Talricto.

[Commandment of War 50 → Commandment of War 54]

A roar of power backed by all the soul energy within tore free from his lips.

And all of a sudden, the Prophet’s beams of light grew far stronger. Nearly fatal, as titanic amounts of light from the elemental plane began assailing Orodan perfectly, from the most damaging angles possible.

“Fool! You would end your own life to spite me? Die then!”

However, his foe had little idea what was truly occurring.

As the seconds passed and Orodan was reduced to chunks, and then scraps and finally a smattering of cells, he carefully reflected upon all his experiences with the light. He’d certainly been slain enough times by the Prophet using it.

But what was light?

It was bright and it burned, naturally the concepts behind Fire Resistance applied, but with certain twists as light materially behaved differently to flame.

Then, light was energy. And to resist the light then involved resisting energy. Yet this was easier said than done, for if Orodan could easily figure out the solution to this, then he could also develop soul energy resistance, yet he felt far away from it.

But, what if light really was just one particular sort of energy on a range or… spectrum. And unlike fire, it clearly interacted differently with his cells. Unlike flame which assailed his cells like a battering ram with their heat, what if the key to resisting light was to understand that it assailed his cells in a different way.

Yes, his body was being disintegrated by the light, but its very initial method of attacking his cells was different to fire. More insidious, as though it affected the very essence of his cell. It was a little difficult to understand for him since his cells were a singular unit in and of themselves with no components.

But as he saw a nearby blade of grass first wither as its components fell apart and then died. Orodan understood that it didn’t affect his cells the way fire did.

And the key to resisting light then, was to counter this insidious structural assault.

[New Skill (Exquisite) → Light Resistance 22]

And before his enemy’s very eyes, Orodan began reforming himself despite the light of the elemental planes scorching him.

Again he roared, demanding more of the plane of light assault him, and further was the skill pushed as he gained levels.

Until finally, it seemed to stabilize after a few minutes at level 26.

The Prophet cancelled the spell and began stepping backwards, clearly wary of Orodan.

“Light Resistance…? What sort of monster are you? How can a being such as you exist?”

All pretense of gloating and self-superiority was now gone. Despite being an Administrator, the Prophet’s eyes told a clear story.

Mantle or not, it now began to see Orodan as the existential threat he really was.

Empowered by a colossal amount of soul energy, a horrifyingly savage overhead blow came in, the same one which had crushed him into paste before.

But this time Orodan was ready.

All throughout the repeated battles thus far he had been using the elements to infuse power into his body. It was a technique strong enough to let him match Embodiers. But the Prophet was a different matter.

Orodan had known right from the start of this long loop and even earlier, that he would have to inevitably face this mad zealot. The magical training he’d done with Destartes in Anthus, the Enchanting he’d learned from Fenton, the Dimensionalism he’d trained in alongside Talricto and all the Weaving he’d done with Fanny Penny came to mind. As did that titanic attack he’d performed during his very first battle against the Living Crystal.

He had been training relentlessly, honing himself into a weapon that even an Administrator would fear.

And at last, the insights came to him and were brought together as his Transcendent Combat Mastery activated.

Orodan split his mind and almost became each skill.

First of all, reliable and growing ever more powerful, was Logistics. Under its guidance, the giant that was Incipience of Infinity was directed to funnel power towards this endeavor. Dimensionalism, critical in forming the skill through his hard toil also came in to contribute. And Logistics dragged Weaving and Enchanting into the mix as well.

All his various experiences came together. That one-off freak lightning bolt he’d cast in Anthus which just happened to perfectly be shaped as an enchantment. The perfect synchronization of light and body against Ur-Vah’sahn during their first battle. The long hours spent puppeteering his body and then puppeteering his very mana pool. And of course, the hours spent training with his student Fenton, who showed him Body Enchanting.

The memory of it caused a sharp pain in his heart, but it was for his sake that Orodan would not and could not quit.

Orodan borrowed the concepts from all of these skills, even if none of them would be combined to form anything.

He had been the teacher to many, but a good teacher was also a dedicated student, and Orodan had had many teachers of his own. All of their lessons, their memories, the time, faith and belief they’d had in him. It all came together to form something new.

An Elemental Living Enchantment.

[New Skill (Mythical) → Elemental Living Enchantment 9]

[Combat Mastery 119 → Combat Mastery 120]

Under the effects of the new skill, everything became crystal clear and the slight clumsiness vanished.

If Orodan could be so utterly destructive when combining his Smite of Abrupt Deliverance with a mere Candleflame… then what if he infused his attack with the strongest elemental spell he had?

The power of Draconic Fireball filled his very being to the brim, and the flames within him arm were almost alive as they infused his body. Yet, it didn’t stop there. These flames were no mere force of energy, but living, with a mind of their own. And they formed not randomly, but into the specific inscription for an enchantment of explosion within his veins.

Almyra had a singular moment to transport the two of them elsewhere lest the world her fallen lover cherished so much was obliterated.

And as Orodan and the Prophet were thrown into an unknown part of the void by the last vestiges of a grieving woman’s power, the two attacks collided.

Three. Thankfully they were uninhabited. But three entire star systems vanished. Not shattered, shaken or destroyed, but outright erased as though they had never existed in the first place. And Orodan?

He was reduced to a single cell.

[Draconic Fireball 76 → Draconic Fireball 79]

[Elemental Living Enchantment 9 → Elemental Living Enchantment 12]

[Fire Magic Mastery 64 → Fire Magic Mastery 66]

[Fire Resistance 69 → Fire Resistance 71]

But he came to instantly enough.

Which was more than could be said about his opponent who was floating amid the void, utterly charred, reduced to a near-husk. But surprisingly enough, still alive.

Orodan floated over.

“E-end me… that I might be free of my suffering and the destruction of all my life’s work and loyalties. You have won… time looper. Your plans were devious, your power, greater than anything I could have ever imagined.”

“I detest you, Prophet. Perhaps it’s the negative association with the Goddess of Fate of my world, or perhaps it’s your Eldritch nature, but if we fought a thousand times, I would gladly slay you every one of those times. But here and now… I can only feel an emptiness,” Orodan said. “This victory… it was worth nothing.” There is no joy to be had here. I’m the last one left standing, as always.”

In the distance, many star systems away, Orodan could see Lonvoron. And a lonely woman grieving over a scrap of cloth.

What had all this been worth? Two broken time loopers left all alone in the end.

“The Reject, Xia… he would speak as you do, soon before he began to go mad and turn against our savior…” the Prophet rasped. “But I have strength no longer. I can sense… Orodan Wainwright, that you’ve held one particular thing back all this time. Polite of you, to handicap yourself so, but know that if we meet at my full power what meagre might you’ve shown here will not be enough without your plans, schemes and allies.”

“You speak true. I ordinarily do not subscribe to such schemes. When next we meet… there will be no tricks. Just you and I, one-on-one. And I have no intention of claiming anything less than an honest victory earned in sweat and blood,” Orodan said. “And you are right… I did not want to achieve Embodiment just yet. But on the eve of such a joyless triumph, what else can I do?”

“I see… that pulse I felt a week ago then. It was you, was it not?” the Administrator asked, and Orodan grunted in affirmation. “Then know this… yours is a power that will never grant you peace. Once you cross the threshold there is no coming back. From your next loop… the cosmos will come for you.”

“I welcome it. Now then… I suppose it’s time to move onto embodying the concept I’ve pursued for so long, isn’t it?”

He wasn’t in the middle of combat, so it was a gentle gathering of power. Yet, all the same the very fabric of reality rippled, as though expectant of what was to come.

Truly, there was no greater cleaning talent in the universe than he.

And as his broom touched down upon the Prophet’s charred husk…

…the Administrator vanished. Wiped from existence.

And the universe trembled and descended into chaos.

[Domain of Perfect Cleaning 150 → Domain of Perfect Cleaning 151]

[New Title → Celestial Embodier]

[New Title → Embodiment of Perfect Cleaning]

[New Title → Embodiment of Cleaning]

[New Title → Administrator Slayer]

Orodan descended unto Lonvoron with a Dimensional Step.

Almyra was still silent, her spirit utterly crushed. Her voice was quiet, far too quiet as she spoke.

“I did not think it possible… but you kept your word,” she solemnly declared. “The book, take it. It has what you seek. All I’ve ever uncovered about true soul genesis. It should be a madman’s quest, an impossibility. And yet… you’re nearer to becoming the only sort of being that can achieve it, aren’t you? A mortal becoming a Boundless One… the crowning twist to this nightmare I’m in. Such a hollow victory this is…”

Orodan asked her nothing else, simply tucking the book away in his soul space alongside the bloodstained orb Fenton had handed him which he guarded closely. He couldn’t carry too much more in there anyhow.

“They are coming,” Orodan informed her.

“I know… the very fabric of reality trembled when you achieved Embodiment,” she quietly replied. “Orodan Wainwright… could… could you…”

“Aye. I will… as long as it doesn’t go against what he asked of me.”

“You… have not even heard what I want.”

“Does it matter? I assume it cannot be too far off from ensuring you and Alstatyn remain happy in the end,” Orodan said.

“It… does not. Thank you…”

Her head lowered after that, too consumed by grief she was.

Orodan too, could only remain quiet no matter how much warmth and comfort Zaessythra was trying to provide.

Fenton was dead.

And he was very, very angry.

So when the skies finally rumbled, and four Administrators from four separate parts of the cosmos congregated… Orodan decided he had had enough of their meddling.

“Orodan Wainwright, the time looper. And that is Fenton Penny, meant to have been the next, and over there the previous. What are all three doing together?” the Custodian asked, utterly confused. “And I have lost track of two of the Mantles. How can this be? Where is the Prophet?”

“Is this related to the recent troubles regarding the time loop mechanism that you spoke of?” the Warrior queried. “And your power has suddenly weakened, Custodian. Perhaps the new Embodiment we sensed is related to your concept of purity?”

Any further conversation between them was cut off with a singular warning.

“I shall give the four of you one warning. Leave me be for my mood is dark,” he quietly said.

“Your mood is dark? How can the little Wainwright’s mood be so soured? Has he perhaps learned things he was not meant to? Has the-”

The cosmos trembled as rage and sorrow flew into one singular overpowered usage of Domain of Perfect Cleaning.

[Domain of Perfect Cleaning 151 → Domain of Perfect Cleaning 155]

The Reject never knew what hit him. The madman shrieked in terror as the majority of his body was cleansed from existence. Xia barely escaped with his life, caught off-guard as he was.

The other Administrators immediately used their Mantles to defend, yet all but the Warrior were struggling against the unfathomable power of cleaning that Orodan now possessed.

Finally, something Orodan never had happen before occurred, and he felt the very shackles at the bowels of the System come loose.

His power surged even higher, threatening to challenge even the Boundless One itself. Around him, all of the cosmos began unraveling at the seams as the Boundless One began appearing in-person responding to put down the mad, raging dog that was Orodan Wainwright.

And the last thing he saw despite his wave of cleaning going out…

…was a Boundless well of Eldritch subsuming him. And when he passed a critical threshold of soul energy generation, Orodan didn’t even notice his last cell dying from energy overload.

#

A keening wail ringing in the night sky awoke him.

And Orodan Wainwright’s mind was clouded by rage and sorrow.

He needed an outlet. He needed some short loops just collecting skills.

Quite important considering the sudden and unavoidable rumbling in the tapestry of fate that he could feel all around him. The universe, it seemed, wasn’t willing to let an Embodier lay low. Especially not one as dangerous as he.

Who knew what was coming from the stars for him? He estimated he had less than two weeks before the rumbling calmed enough that things could start finding him.

But now, Orodan had a direction. The book he’d acquired from Almyra, and most importantly… the bloodstained orb he clutched close to his chest.

Perhaps it was time to see about the value of bringing other peoples’ memories along.