Zayn stood, dust-caked, breathing hard as blackened sweat dripped from his brow. Miasma boomed past him, rolling into the battle-torn forest as a searing, poisonous fog.
Your blood has been afflicted with ‘Poison miasma’!
Inside his body, a war raged between the poison and his blood. Verdant Skin pressed the poison back in full force. Mounting a fierce defense, it tasted the damage and adapted to its patterns.
It was falling behind, however. Long since, his veins had blackened, flesh taking on a purple shade like that of a rotting corpse. He’d already looked half-dead before—this merely completed the image.
Skill detected!
Poison Miasma (Adept - Low): Spurt out waves of poisonous air, creating visual and auditory disturbance in the surrounding area of 500 meters.
“Yeah, I couldn’t tell.” He snarked, unsure whether he appreciated the late responses anymore. The mask hid the tears streaming down his face, saving his face from Faeria. The mask wouldn’t save him from the turtle sniping him, however.
Its sneaky nature made it a real pain in the ass.
Your blood has been afflicted with ‘Poison miasma’!
“I know, now can you tell it to get to work?” He spat and inhaled as much miasma as his lungs could hold. Spreading the poison through his system, breaking his insides. But his attention was somewhere else.
The miasma being unnaturally still meant one thing—it was preparing for a sneak attack.
Just as he suspected, there was a disturbance in the air. Right behind him. Very slight, almost imperceptible, thanks to ‘Conceal’, another of its stupid skills.
[Windstider] prevailed still, air screaming in vibrations just a fraction of a second before it struck. Rolling down in haste, he avoided the great maw of death by a mere moment.
A cracking noise like an axe splitting wood rang out. The colossal, serpentine head of the Stonecoil Turtle bit where he stood. Not finding him in the mix, it spat out the rubble in its mouth with apparent displeasure written all over it.
Zayn gazed at the poisonous, purple fog that remained, judging the pit to be almost thrice his size. The thing wanted to swallow him whole. Damn it.
Laughing, he exhaled and inhaled more miasma, shredding his lungs.
Its shiny, smooth head had retracted as fast as it had come. Right back into its shell, since its attacks had failed.
Unlike the earlier ones, this one had one singular principle—never strike from the front.
Every time, it snuck up on him from behind, and unless it was certain he’d lost its tracks, it would never come out and attack, hiding inside the thick fog of miasma.
A cowardly thing, this one.
‘Undying cockroach’ active!
“Come on! Adapt!” He roared, avoiding another sneak attack.
Lung-splitting pain? He endured, forcing himself back to his feet again and again. The beast gained courage because he did not attack. Becoming more frequent and wanton. Each time he rolled, he inhaled more poison, just hanging on, until his heart rang out a roar.
Ba-dump!
Drumming wildly, it announced war for war. Pumped out adapted blood into his bloodstream, into the arteries and capillaries throughout his system. Streaks of crimson burned through the blackened veins, as though his body was undergoing an exorcism.
‘Verdant Skin’ has developed Poison Resistance: Minor Snake Venom Resistance!
He huffed in relief, breathing more poisonous miasma. Pain subsided as he turned around. No longer did he need to hold back.
‘I see through you’ active!
A red charge stormed into his eyes, connecting him to the environment. Everything went black. The mist was torn apart to reveal a towering figure within. From its egg-like, mound-shaped body, a serpentine head snuck out, not yet noticing his gaze.
The fog had never been a problem, not for him.
But the turtle was too cowardly, and fuck it—he had neither the stamina nor the will to hurtle after it.
So he let it rush into its own trap.
With the certainty of a predator that had its prey, its coiled head whistled out of the fog, snapping wide open and aiming for him.
Stonecoil Turtle - Lv 47
Skills: Sneaking Bite (Initiate), Poison Miasma (Adept), Conceal (Initiate)
He bent his back just slightly, pulled the Hollowfang behind. Mana stormed out of him as the creature's head rolled out of the mist. Only then did it notice his stare. Its beady eyes shifted in terror as it attempted to move out of the way.
Too late.
A lightning-red slash cleaved through it in a clean motion—like sunlight through mist.
Level up!
***
Nova Rain snuck her way through the pristine, snow-filled roads of the planet Paleheaven. Flying artifacts and constructs filled the air above, going in and out of the white complexes that tore through the clouds. Mesmerizingly. It looked like mana pulsing in and out of a core.
There was no error in the traffic despite the crowd of floating devices. Air control in the Snow Clan was impeccable, as usual. And it was even tidier down here. The biggest perk was that nobody noticed her here, in these sectors.
She was glad to be left unnoticed.
Few of the passersby saw her. The few who recognized her didn’t point at her like before, just going about their day. Things had started to settle down. Too much happened in AstralSpace, and she was only the flavour of the week.
Nothing more. Nothing less.
Fishing a piece of falling snow, she felt a smile creep up on her face for the first time in weeks. The weather of Snow Clan planets was immaculate, right up her alley. Compared to the scorch of the Everlasting Sun Clan and the dreary skies of the Rain Clan, she preferred this.
Perhaps she’d taken on her mom.
One of these days, once she was rich and powerful enough, she would buy this planet and retire here. Though she wouldn’t utter it aloud right now, lest everyone in the three clans came out with pitchforks.
The three clans—Everlasting Sun, Eternal Snow, and Undying Rain—dominated the northern reaches of the Ember Dust galaxy cluster. Though the Nova Clan was the weakest, its clan leader had always excelled. Together, the three clans were hailed as the Northern Overlords.
Nova wasn’t here to sightsee, though.
Soon she reached a massive, archaic white structure, piercing through the clouds high into the snow-white skies. The insignia of ‘Arax MLC’ was written in a huge, silver shade, the coiling ‘A’ recognizable anywhere within the greater universe.
After going through the rigorous checking processes, she walked inside. The thick texture of mixed perfumes and colours bothered her, but she forced through it all, reaching one of the halls.
“Can I help you?” the woman with a crab head asked. One of the Xinwa people hailing from the greater universe. Being of a Grade C race, not many of them could be found within the Ember Dust.
She nodded back respectfully. Then took out a storage ring and pushed it towards her. “I wish… to liquidate all the ownings under the name ‘Northwalker’.”
Northwalker—her father—had been the brightest prodigy of Ember Dust. The cream of the crop. Best of the best in his generation. The only reason he hadn’t soared beyond Ember Dust was because of his stupid attachment. What was there to live for if not for love, he said.
That became his bane.
Seven years had passed since he went missing on an Incursion, and in the last couple of years, everyone in the clan had given up on him, considering him dead. Even though Nova had always denied that notion, she couldn’t help but begin to accept the reality of the situation.
Watching Zayn, a realization struck her: she’d been taking it real easy. She thought using her father's name would protect her forever. She thought wrong.
In the Rain Clan, a person’s wealth and heritage were considered a part of their power. Yearly evaluation was around the corner, and this time, she needed to win back some ‘face’.
When the Xinwa banker heard her request, she stared at her and looked frozen for a second before nodding. The hesitation was unintentional, but Nova caught it.
She exclaimed, “We must check your soul signatures before approving such a request. I assume you have no issues?”
Usually, Nova supported stringent checking. She endorsed it, in fact. After all, multiple paths and skills existed to allow impersonation—faces, shape, even fingerprints and skills could be copied to the T.
Soul signatures were just about the only things that couldn’t be replicated by any known method. But it was also the most humiliating method, akin to stripping naked, but what they saw was your soul instead of your body. A disgusting feeling it was to be probed in, in essence, laid bare to see.
As the mana probe beamed inside her, it appeared to be the longest moment of her life. Analyze shouldn’t be detectable—but if it was, this would be her last moment of peace. She clenched her jaw, doing her best not to show any sort of suspicious behavior, down to controlling her heart rate.
Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.
Probe completed!
Soul signage 100% matches the nominee! Identity confirmed!
The weight on her shoulders vanished.
If a soul probe couldn’t find its traces, there was very little in the universe that could.
[A correct thought! Analyze would never be detected by silly things such as a soul probe!]
She almost snorted. This cowardly thing had finally lurked out of whatever hole it had crawled into. The first time it heard she was about to be soul-probed, it had tucked its tail and hid somewhere, vanishing as though it didn’t even exist.
But, this....was not the worst method to find out if a soul probe worked.
Arax MLC was known for maintaining strict consumer privacy. Had she been caught, she would’ve been sent to the Rain Clan for questioning first. That would have doomed her, but being Northwalker’s daughter, nobody in the clan would dare to treat her too harshly. She would instead be protected, despite her will, forced to become a key figure in her clan.
Sounded nice, but that also came with many…many restrictions.
The desk lady nodded. “Nova Rain, if you wish to liquidate all wealth associated with ‘Northwalker’, Arax MLC can provide you with five billion Grade 5 Arax right now.” Then, she whispered, “Or you could wait for one month until the yearly auction! You’d get at least two billion more.”
Waiting a month would have been optimal. The matter of regret was that she had little time to wait. The money...she needed it right now.
She nodded. “I’d like to have it all liquidated.”
“Please wait while we prepare it for you, honoured customer.” The woman left at a leisurely pace. Nova nodded and absent-mindedly walked out at a slow pace.
The next item on her agenda was purchasing an induction technique for Zayn and epic-grade armor for herself. One that should allow her to survive C-grade incursions with ease. With [Analyze], there were a few incursions she couldn’t cheese.
[An impressive thought! Analyze can indeed help you in various ways, including finding the weaknesses of monsters, assessing their capabilities, and artifacts that can help you to counter them.]
She pretended not to see the text, slowly walking to the waiting chamber. But just as she entered, she saw the face of someone she didn’t expect to see here. Someone so hateful that she hoped he died in the belly of a burgle or something.
She had to be hallucinating. It wasn’t weird; she’d begun to see his hateful face in her dreams for a while now.
Must she visit a [Mender] first? Staying inside the Endless Chamber deteriorated and strained her mentally. Maybe after this is done.
“Long time no see.”
Oh! He can even speak now!
That’s not good. She must visit a [Mender] right away.
“Oh? Is my sister ignoring me? How saddening. Are you still mad about the matter from the other day? You would be that petty, sister?”
Shock rippled through her eyes as she realized she wasn’t hallucinating. Was he following her? No. Aman was such a busy guy. He should have business to handle!
“Damn, you’re still mad… mad! Is it too late to say sorry?”
She did her best to ignore him, to think of him as fleeting air, but all her mana signals affirmed she was not hallucinating.
Aman Rain was here in soul, body, and mind alike.
Her fists clenched to the point of cracking. Mana crackled from her in waves, liquefying the surrounding snow, making the bystanders turn around and look at their position.
Aman looked around and shrugged like she was being unreasonable, doing his absolute best to rile her up, “If sister wants to duel, I would suggest waiting until the end of the year.”
She came back to her senses, unclenching her fist. Because one—she didn’t want to be on the AstralNews, and two—the clan would lose face if two of them fought here in Paleheaven. She gritted her teeth and asked through clenched teeth, “Why are you following me?”
Aman made a shocked face and pointed at her, as if she had asked the most ludicrous question ever. “You think a bank is somewhere only you rich people go? Is it because you have a rich ‘dad’? You keep forgetting one thing, though. I’m the Titled [Azure Merchant] of this generation. I am richer than your entire line of ancestors!”
She walked away, swallowing her grievances.
Aman followed and bickered with her as if they were really siblings. As if he hadn’t just humiliated her in front of the entire clan just a couple of weeks ago. As if he didn’t almost ruin her entire life.
“Why are you running?” he said as he followed her. “Why are you running?”
Aman Rain. The bastard son of the clan head. Son of a dead prostitute. That's what they called him. Nova, too, having lost both her parents young, always felt they were of the same cloth—trying to survive under a cruel, unfeeling system.
So it was weird when it was him, out of everyone, who had ruined her inauguration ceremony.
“You know what, these days, I feel like I do not have enough fields to spend my money. So I’m having much fun chippin’ in on these outworlders. People are starting to say I am addicted,” Aman Rain droned behind her. “Nah! I have too much money, so it doesn’t matter!”
Here we go again. She shot him a disgusted side-eye. This narcissist.
“Do you wanna know where I spent so much money?” he asked, walking beside her.
“I’m good.”
“Let me tell you, since I am feeling generous and all,” he prattled on. “Among the baby races that joined late, there was this weird tree-born race trying to fix their broken tree or something. Yeah… they called it err… ‘The World Tree.”
“Like the Yggdrasil?” Nova asked in a humorous tone.
“Yes, but not really, as always. It is just a silly offshoot weed that grew too much.” He smirked.
“Mana wouldn’t fix that.” Nova put the matter to the back of her mind. Baby races, or outworlders, were often in possession of extraordinary things. Every race had its own fortune, as they said. Nothing exorbitant.
“Who knows? Maybe it could.” He smiled, fixing his long hair. Then, he flashed the most businessman-like smile he could muster. “Could you lend me a couple of billion? It’d help the poor race out… like a lot.”
“Absolutely not.” Nova immediately declined.
“I can pay back a 15% annual interest. That’s far better than nearly any institution in Ember Dust,” he claimed.
“Why does Mr. ‘I’m richer than your line of ancestors combined’ need money from me?”
“Do you think I have money lying around? The first rule of money is that you seed it around, and then it returns with its babies, and then those babies make more babies. Not everyone is so lucky to get five billion from their dead dad.”
The words struck her old wounds. She almost felt like smacking the smile off his face again. But before she could, he bolted away.
“Oh, I forgot, I am very busy. So, if you’ll excuse me.”
She exhaled her anger. She really needed to see a [Mender] soon. Or she would burn herself with her own rage. The thoughts spiraled inside her again—did he know that I have ‘Analyze’ inside of me?
[‘Analyze’ has been searched for, but never found. There are only three scenarios in which Aman would know of ‘Analyze’.
-
Aman holds one of the God artifacts. Impossible.
-
Aman has a ‘detection’-related [Feat] of Titanium or higher rank. Impossible; none of the records about Aman show any signs of such an achievement.
-
Aman holds one of the foundational skill equivalents to {Analyze}. Impossible, as Analyze would detect it too.
If Analyze is detected, Analyze would be the first one to know. Rest assured, Nova Rain.]
She nodded with relief and turned around to look at Aman. To her surprise, Aman was already staring back at her with a half-smile.
***
When the fourth turtle turned out to be relatively normal, Zayn thought the hardest part was over. Faeria might have sent out the harder ones first, just to mess with him. Alas! The world spat on his expectations, danced on its grave.
The fifth turtle was proportionally harder than the rest.
It trudged a step towards him, armoured body covered in thick, limestone-like carapace. From its looks, it appeared harmless, cute even—easily the least threatening-looking one so far. Except for a simple fact—there was no weakness in its body.
Not on its back, not on its navel, and certainly not up its ass; he checked.
His blood and skin tried their best to expunge the poison. Beads of mist dropping out. Too bad—it couldn’t be removed because of his growing exhaustion. Like dirty water, his mind was all mixed up.
‘Undying Cockroach’ is active!
The damage to his lungs was hard to heal, even with a full gourd of spirit wine. Poison itself seemed to have an anti-healing effect, and he found his body falling behind, its natural regeneration not working for the first time. Each breath felt like someone plunged cold ice inside his lungs and twisted it.
It struck towards again, maws wide open, its whistling breath boiling the air. He rolled and avoided the chomp. Fire blazed inside of him, though he was having trouble maintaining it after a certain point.
Flame: 7.03… 7.02… 6.98%
The all-devouring flame—[The First Spark]—kept absorbing all the friction. But it let out friction just as fast, as his body had seemingly reached a maximum capacity at 7%. He turned and twisted, wrapping his blade in a flash of flame and thrusting it under its outstretched jaw in a spray of yellow.
The heat inside him reduced.
Flame: 5.08… 5.10%
The grotesque thing took damage, but nowhere near enough to matter. And the tiny crack on it regenerated instantly. That stung more than the wound. That burned him! Why?! And how could it have these combinations of skills? It was totally an unfair build.
He wanted that.
He threw himself backwards, rolled over a few times, and stood upright once more, glaring at the turtle.
The turtle roared aloud.
Skill detected!
War Cry: The turtle roars out to taunt its opponent to war. It is impossible to avoid and ignore without a stout mind of great resistance.
In his vision, its ellipsoid body loomed. Air exploded out in waves. To Zayn, it almost sounded like it was mocking him, laughing at him. An irreversible burst of anger surged out of his chest.
Ba-dump!
He saw this was a taunting skill, though he couldn’t really stop his body from bolting at it. His dumb class wouldn’t let him.
Pain stabbed his joints with each step taken, and blood wheeled with even more intensity, channeling friction into heat. It cleared his muddled brain, forcing him into a half-drunk, half-lucid state.
He slashed down hard on its metallic shell. Not trying to burst through its defenses, but to gather friction. For the heat.
Ironshell Turtle Lv 49
Skills: [Shell Fortification], [War Cry], [Regenerate]
He jumped back, avoiding another headbash. What a disastrous combination.
Standing back up on his feet felt like a chore. As though he was already losing. But he couldn’t allow his bones to rest… not like this. Not when his class was urging him. Not when he was being watched.
He rushed at it again, striking down, uncaring of the cracks on the Hollowfang. Blood pumped out to reinforce it. Metal rang against metal, and a heat burned inside him.
Ba-dump!
His class urged him. To unleash it all. The anger, exhaustion—the powerlessness. He refused. Couldn’t afford to use Bloodburn on small fries like this.
That’d be admitting… defeat.
“Allow me to handle the rest,” Faeria said, sneaking out of the shadows. He could feel something in her gaze—a faint disappointment.
He rose, spitting blood. Stared at the turtle, unblinking. It was like an untouchable wall. He struck it again, metal banging against metal.
Undying Cockroach grows stronger!
His body cracked from the heat. Just like his half-moon-shaped swords. Like an egg that had been smashed against a rock. He struck again.
Clang!
Vibration stung his bones, waves after waves. Heat churned inside him, wafting out of the cracks like mist.
“Give up!”
CLANG!
He responded with an even stronger strike, feeling his mind reeling. Why? Wasn’t he standing still? Or was she saying he couldn’t defeat it?
Ba-dump!
His heart told him the same story. To give up and burn. That it was beyond him.
“Shut up!” he barked, slapped his blades down. Felt the vibration. The ring of the metal. His beating heart. “What give up?”
***
Faeria couldn’t help but feel a bit disappointed. Not that Zayn wasn’t impressive. He was actually one of the most exceptional people she’d ever met, except for the sages. Nobody else could have progressed so fast without breaking down.
Yet the same thing that strengthened him was the weapon that would cut him if left unchecked.
That fire? It was self-destructive. That weird healing skill he had? Same—worked through exchanging pain. And his class? It rewarded this madness. Perhaps it instigated it.
This was a path of no return. There was only so much potential that he could squeeze out this way. Right now, his entire body was burning with fire, damaging him as much as it damaged the turtle.
He’d crumble before it fell.
Often, sheer will proves short against absolute power.
She landed between him and the turtle, stopping him. The buffoon—now resembling a shattered vase. She declared, “You have done enough.”
She expected a lash back, honestly. Maybe he’d struggle and fight her a bit. It would be futile against her, but she expected it. Yet as soon as she spoke, he crumbled to the ground, falling unconscious without a second’s wait.
She scanned him and understood immediately.
He was already too tired from the earlier strenuous battles.
“Just a little more.” Curling his body, he hugged himself into a ball. The grin never left his face. “Just let me be… for a bit more.”
Even asleep, he was still fighting.
Faeria was amused, to be fair.
From amidst the broken trees, a small, hunched figure stepped out and draped a dirty, grey robe.
The Gravekeeper—she knew him only faintly through her memories.
In every cycle, he would be here. Every time, he would tell the same tales. Every time, he would be a silent witness to all of this.
The treants had become monsters, remembering almost nothing. Even in the hive, those who remembered who they were were just semi-lucid. Faeria mostly awakened in the final act, when someone reached the house and freed her.
Only then would she remember.
But he—he was the sole exception. Always living, always witnessing, always remembering.
She let the question drift into the air, “Why would one push themselves this far?”
Gravekeeper held onto the andolin tightly, tugging away at the strings. His wrinkles folded into a pained smile. “Sometimes, not giving up is all one can do to forgive themselves.”