Chapter 101: Chapter 101

“So let me get this right ser… you spent how long on your home world before comin’ to get me?”

“Almost a year. A decent amount of time, but necessary if we’re going to win.”

“And you… you couldn’t have just swung on by and picked me up any of those times?”

“No? Why would I have done that? My world faced cosmic invasion at the end of a two week period. If not from the Embodiers angry at me taking the reins of their concept, then by Administrators unhappy with the fact that I’m within the bounds of a galaxy,” Orodan replied. “I was not about to drag you into a losing battle over and over again until I was ready.”

Fenton’s annoyed glare didn’t lessen in the slightest.

Thankfully, the familiar intrusion of a welcome eight-legged sort saved the day.

“I see you’ve reunited with the boy and haven’t caused any other messes. Cause to celebrate,” Talricto spoke as he suddenly appeared in the room via Dimensional Step. Orodan used to be able to sense the spider showing up, but since the wanderer had been getting its memories transferred across loops it had surpassed him in skill and had learned how to perform truly silent dimensional travel.

“Mister Talricto!” Fenton exclaimed and lunged in, only to be rebuffed by a gentle pulse of force. “Hey…”

The lad’s whine of sadness was pitiful, but such was the reality when the wanderer didn’t remember anything which had occurred during the prior long loop upon Lonvoron. At that time, only Fenton’s memories had been ferried along with the orb.

“I shall have to request that you limit the touchiness. My hairs are quite sensitive and easily damaged,” the spider lectured with an imperious tone. “Although… hmm… you do seem as though you have a bit more sense in your head than this barbarian next to me. Well met, Fenton Penny. I have heard about you and our time together upon this rainy planet. I’ve been here once or twice before, but nothing extensive.”

“Of course you have. Now can you tell Mister Orodan here that he’s a bloody idiot?”

“But that is a mere fact of life which goes without saying, young one,” Talricto agreed all too easily, causing Orodan to sigh at the team up. “What has he done now to earn such derision from you? Has he broken something? Drawn the attention of something far too powerful? Casually performed feats which shatter the bounds of logic and convention? Trained with such mad zeal that it has you questioning your own efforts and purpose of life?”

“Er… well, yes to all of those but not in this loop,” Fenton replied with a hum before returning his glare to him. “He spent thirteen loops gallivantin’ around on his home world without ever coming to get me.”

“And perhaps I did so because the memory of you asking to die to avoid seeing all your work undone was still fresh in my mind,” Orodan replied, shutting him up. “That feeling you get when Talricto doesn’t remember, but you do? I have spent the entirety of my loops with that. And sometimes, that involves keeping a promise or adhering by someone’s last words even if they themselves do not remember.”

The boy was quite for a while before speaking again.

“I’m sorry… yer’ right Mister Orodan. I was bein’ insensitive,” Fenton replied. “But if you’re sayin’ you waited until ready, then does that mean…”

“Aye. We’re going to win this time and you and your mother shall have a proper home upon Alastaia alongside your father once I bring him back. But in order to do that, we have to first liberate your world and get Almyra on-board.”

“And that means dealin’ with that wretched zealot again…” Fenton muttered, looking distinctly pale at the thought. Unlike Orodan, death, and the vivid memory of such a painful one, would leave scars on normal folk.

“You’ve done enough, Fenton. This time, allow me to deal with that thing how I should have in the first place. The Prophet was always meant to be my battle.”

“We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it ser,” the lad replied. “So… how are we doin’ things this time? Build the pillar o’ purification and head to the dead zone? Watch you get into a brawl with Miss Almyra again?”

“Absolutely not. Not only have we come prepared, you’ll find that this fool here is not nearly as alone as it seems.”

“Right, while we’re on Port Bellgrave, let’s focus on getting Clyburn and his engineers on our side. Lonvoron isn’t as alone as it thinks this time.”

After all, that grand array hadn’t been built for show. Just as he was upon Lonvoron, the other Transcendents of Alastaia had their own missions on nearby worlds.

Clyburn Anderthorn and Luetta Treadway were a lot easier to convince than he’d thought. Fenton had a youthful innocence and earnestness to him which made both individuals tentatively buy the story and agree to help. And with their word and a bit of ability displayed, the chief engineer was more than happy to accept Orodan and Fenton’s help with his project.

All in all, he resumed training Fenton, helped build the pillars of purification and continually monitored the situation upon Lonvoron alongside Talricto.

It took them three days to finish building one of the pillars. It wouldn’t be enough to purge all seven plague worlds assailing the Blackworth Collective altogether, but that was fine. There were plans in place for making more.

Now, within the south tower of Port Bellgave’s fort, they were all gathered around the completed pillar.

“I still cannot believe I am rid of Lord Morvale’s constant hounding of my steps…” Clyburn muttered. “With this device, I can finally show my worth to Storven. I can make up for all the debts I’ve accrued and the shame surrounding my name.”

“His castle and enchanting workshop were rather easy to sabotage,” Orodan remarked. “With all the problems he now has, I doubt he shall have the time to bother you.”

“And even that infected inquisitor was dealt with, correct? The Inquisition will be looking to swiftly purge ranks soon…” Luetta Treadway muttered. “I have a difficult time believing it, but everything you’ve said so far has been true. Are we really in a time loop?.”

“Rather evident with how we’ve gotten done in three days a large portion of which took two months in the last attempt, ain’t it? Not that you remember any o’ that Miss Treadway,” Fenton added.

“The alarms and wards are quiet too, but I have no doubt that this previous looper noticed the swarm of dimensional horrors going afrenzy near the boundaries of her galaxy. Anyone, even unschooled in Dimensionalism, would. And although your reversal of that insidious alarm system was quite skillful, it may not mean much if she flees or tips her hand too early,” Talricto warned.

“We’ll need that Mantle Mister Orodan, can’t make what I’m thinkin’ of without it,” Fenton added.

Which meant that moving swiftly was the right course of action lest Almyra decide to flee in paranoia or enact any of the countless countermeasures she had. Last time, it was curiosity regarding Fenton and to an extent, himself, which had stayed her hand. But without those things, they needed to be careful with how they moved.

“You have her in your sights Talricto?” Orodan asked.

Almyra’s Dimensionalism was good, but not enough to prevent getting tracked by the dimensional phase spider. Over the past five loops Talricto had only gotten better, and it helped that Orodan could abuse the knowledge of prior loops and simply tell him where to look for the location of her true body and a number of the tricks he had seen her use.

“She won’t start running without me noticing. Have some faith in your master, won’t you?”

Good. Which meant they were as ready as could be. He looked to Luetta, a questioning gaze.

“It wasn’t exactly easy with how guarded the dead zone is, but I’ve secured a contact who’s able to get your group inside. You are fortunate that you’re going in and not attempting to get out. The dead zone is monitored extremely closely, although with how lacking they are in volunteers, getting you lot onto a recruitment vessel wasn’t too hard,” Luetta explained. “Of course… I expect you shall maintain your end of the agreement?”

“I shall. Once you are ready, find me. Transcendence is but a matter of repetitive effort, even for the untalented, given enough tries.”

The group discussed matters for a few moments more until a loud horn could be heard.

Their transportation had arrived.

The journey via sea had gone smoothly. No titanic Eldritch monster attacked them in the water. No saboteurs or pirates had come by to try and threaten them either. It made sense too, given how quickly they’d built the one pillar with Orodan and Fenton’s foreknowledge. Hells, they weren’t even setting out for the competition that Clyburn was to originally make the pillar for, they’d swiftly and secretly chartered a boat and just set off for the front lines on a military ship. With all that added together, any potential enemies of Clyburn had no time to even realize they’d set out let alone send anyone after them.

The front lines in the dead zone needed more bodies. Consequently, a ship full of volunteers, recruits and criminal conscripts was a valuable thing and was flanked by two swift moving gunships of the Collective. Even if they had been attacked, the ship’s security was decent enough to thwart most attempts.

“I could make some improvements to that ring.”

“By all means, here-’

“No! No mid-voyage improvements or tinkering with any enchantments of an unknown nature!” Clyburn shut down. “Not while we’re at sea!”

“If things somehow went wrong I could just reverse time Clyburn,” Orodan reassured. “Not that it would, given the durability of this ring.”

“I still do not know how you managed to make a ring capable of housing an entire multi-storeyed tower within it. The metal should be a ruined mess and the space within exploded.”

“Ordinary metal would obviously not suffice,” Orodan clarified. “But dothril sources from the deepest part of the abyssal depths? A different matter. I wasn’t the one who laid the enchantment either, it was a Grandmaster enchanter from Eldiron using my techniques.”

And hadn’t that been a revelatory experience? Orodan seemed quite talented when utilizing esoteric techniques sourced from a variety of places across the loops, but skill level to skill level, many enchanters were better than him. He worked harder, had access to more knowledge and could enchant tens of thousands of items in a day with his endless energy, unyielding focus and lack of a need for rest. But that didn’t mean that he could execute a better enchantment when someone else of greater talent, skill level or insight had access to the same techniques he did.

Orodan was no prodigy of Enchanting who could strike inscriptions well above his level in quality. His levels in Enchanting came from proximity to the real talent, Fenton Penny. And via necessity of having had to create his own System. The elven Grandmaster who had enchanted the dothril ring he wore did it far better than he currently could. It was a far more potent version of the dimensional storage rings Orodan provided for Esgarius, but executed better.

At least he was good at fighting and cleaning though.

“I still think he did a… well, not dodgy job, but not a great one either,” Fenton remarked. “Not sayin’ you would have done any better yourself ser, but that’s to be expected when yer’ not even a Grandmaster. Don’t know how folk get to call themselves Grandmasters when they can’t even…”

“I think you underestimate your talent, Fenton,” Orodan replied. “But we should avoid any mid-voyage experimentation lest Clyburn go mad. I don’t think he’s entirely trusting of this ring.”

“I can appreciate something enchanted used in tandem with Engineering. Why, I can even appreciate Artificing. But a plain ring enchanted to hold an entire tower in a separate dimension?” Clyburn emphasized. “A dangerous thing to play with. But then again… I suppose I have ever been mistrustful of magic compared to the engineering we can see and build with our own hands.”

“I wasn’t too dissimilar to you in my younger days; relying upon only the might of my sword arm and the sturdiness of my shield. But such things will fall to the wayside as you witness more magic,” he said. “Besides, there is a machine I’d like to request your assistance with. It involves a heavy amount of Dimensionalism too.”

“Hmm… I suppose if all goes well and we truly do push the plague back and prove the merit of my designs… I would be indebted to you.”

“Even just lending us your expertise in consulting on what errors we make would go a long way,” Orodan added with a smile. “Thank you. I shall ensure you are recognized for your work here.”

The ship carried on and eventually reached land, and from there the convoy of reinforcements for the front lines disembarked and began making their way towards the borders of the hot zone.

Fenton and Clyburn looked normal, but Orodan, even wearing the slick dark raincoat he was, drew attention with how he stood a full head taller than even the biggest man he’d seen on Lonvoron.

“Built like a bloody barn door he is…” one sergeant muttered, though made sure to avoid looking at him as he said it.

Still, there were three groups within the convoy aside from the soldiers guarding and leading it. Recruits for the military, volunteer specialists not in military service but willing to lend their expertise in some way or another, and criminal conscripts pressed into service. Orodan, Fenton and Clyburn were part of the volunteer group; a gathering of mercenaries, specialists or people whose skills were valuable enough to warrant an invitation to help without needing to join the military’s ranks. Which meant that he wasn’t questioned if he looked big, or carried himself in a manner different to the rest of the people.

Orodan had been tempered by the experiences of the last long loop he had on Lonvoron. Fenton too. The lad was looking to the treeline or to the back of the formation waiting for an attack that never came. Instead, the journey went peacefully and they arrived at the border of the dead zone with no issue.

“Convoy, you are approaching the checkpoint of section alpha-eight. Identify yourselves,” the on-duty captain called out.

“We’re convoy seven, identification pass: sparrow. Got a bunch of fresh faces for the front,” the convoy sergeant called out.

“Gods help them…” the captain muttered. “Open the barrier, let them through.”

The barrier mages opened a pathway through the colossal wall of energy, and despite how on-edge Fenton looked, no sudden and planned attack from the Eldritch came from the other side. Soon enough the convoy was moving forward and into the dead zone without incident.

“It’s too quiet… I don’t …” Fenton muttered.

“Don’t use that bloody word you runt!” a nearby mercenary grunted, softening his tone at the sight of Orodan nearby. “Are you trying to curse us?”

Fenton looked at least somewhat apologetic and moved away from the man.

“Sometimes, Fenton, the knowledge we bring back doesn’t always hold up,” Orodan explained. “There was many a time where I expected things would go one way due to the time loops, and they instead went another. We were entirely silent, allowed no time for anyone to even glimpse the completed device and simply traveled to the front lines via a regular ship and no ceremony. Do you think the Eldritch omniscient perhaps?”

“I won’t lie to you ser… sometimes it feels that way with how the Prophet seemed to be on our tail near the end. I… I still can’t fully believe I’m back here, and… and…”

“Alive?” Orodan asked and the lad nodded. “It’s certainly an intriguing sensation is it not? Admittedly, you were going about your day as an indentured servant when I flooded your mind and soul with memories, but the concept is not too far off. I still remember wondering if it was all a dream when I woke up back in bed for the first time after my head came off my shoulders.”

“Not really… the wounds I took during the preceding fight hurt worse. If anything, being headless felt as though I was taking a ride through the air. Few too many spins for my liking though,” Orodan morbidly joked.

The lad rolled his eyes at the dark humor.

“What then? Did you spend any time wondering if it was real?”

“For a little while. I then marched to the nearest temple, declared I had a vision of the future and was promptly shot and killed by an archer the moment I stepped out,” he answered with a smile. “Maybe if I’d had half a brain and thought about things like you do, that problem would’ve been handled another way.”

“But you eventually worked things out, right? Joined an academy? Found a mentor? Got strong?”

“Things worked out, certainly. If dying against an archer dozens of times just to get strong enough to beat him can be considered working out,” he said. “I returned over and over until I finally was capable of fighting Adepts. And yes, I suppose I did then find a mentor and join an academy. Although the strong part came before either of those.”

A very odd and haphazard way of going about things. Especially when Orodan had joined Bluefire not primarily to get strong, but to broaden his horizons, get an education and act in a more efficient manner which allowed him access to greater parts of society. The standard reason most youth attended an academy for was to learn combat, gain strength and hone their resolve for careers in the military, guard or mercenary and adventurer work. But for the hardened warrior he had been when entering Bluefire, the combat drills and lessons were pointless when he was capable of beating even the headmasters of the various martial schools.

“…so you were always mad then?” Fenton asked. “Time loop’s perfect for a nutter like you ser.”

“That, I shall take as a compliment. Come, I sense fighting a few miles ahead. Looks like a rift, which means that will be our opening to get the pillar of purification into,” Orodan said.

“I still reckon it’s a tight timeframe for Mister Clyburn and I to finish the other pillars… but we’ll make do,” Fenton replied gathering whatever gear he could remake within the span of three days when not working on the pillar. “Let’s get that pillar into the rift.”

The soldiers of the convoy noticed the conflict a few miles ahead after Orodan did.

“Sarge… I’m gettin’ Eldritch readings a few miles up! Where the fourth company should be,” a soldier trained to operate a detector device informed.

“Those are our escorts… bloody hell. Alright recruits, you signed on to fight for King and Collective, now’s your chance to do it. March! Double time! And keep those rifles loaded and ready.”

The convoy moved forward, and soon enough the view of a Blackworth Collective military company fighting a stream of Eldritch came into sight. Fenton looked quite tense until he saw that the fight wasn’t the one-sided desperate stand against unfathomable odds that it had been on the last long loop.

With no reason to target this convoy in particular, the Eldritch simply diverted the standard amount of plague forms to try and disrupt Collective operations in the dead zone. A standard tactic, and the Collective’s troops often did the same whenever plague forms attempted to move to other parts of the zone.

The company’s troops and war machines were fighting a good battle against the plague and even pushing them back. Being out in an open plain was to the soldiers’ advantage, with clear lines of sight which allowed them to put the plague forms under fire for a longer time before they reached the battle lines.

The recruits and mercenary volunteers of the convoy opened fire, although it was plain to see that despite the fact that a coddled scholar could be given a gun and use it to great effect, there were clear differences in outcome between the recruits and some of the more experienced mercenaries and soldiers of the convoy.

The recruits often missed their shots, needed more time to line them up and reloaded far slower. Some of the mercenaries even had skills for imbuing their bullets with mana, elements or even multiplying bullets mid-flight or adding other special attributes to them. But the battle between these troops and a frankly pitiful force of Eldritch wasn’t what he was here for.

The rift leading to the surface of a plague world was. The Eldritch weren’t stupid, and they wouldn’t pointlessly waste infected creatures for nothing. Not only did this hostile plague world have plenty of infected life forms to spare, but the rift was also a window through which they could survey the dead zone.

Every second it was open, even if plague forms were dying by the dozen, was a moment longer the core of the plague world had to peer into the dead zone of Lonvoron, get a read upon the Collective’s unit composition, the arriving reinforcements and the like.

But that was just fine by Orodan, and from the look he shared with the lad, Fenton liked that state of affairs too.

For an open rift went both ways.

“Well ser… you’re certainly goin’ to draw the bastards’ attention once you javelin that thing through the gate,” Fenton remarked.

“I know,” Orodan said and then focused on the connection between him and the crown upon his arm. “Alastaia… are you ready?”

“We stand prepared to render aid against the wicked corruption of the Eldritch taint.”

Which meant that there was only one thing left to do.

“You lot might want to clear some space,” Orodan said as he opened a gigantic dimensional rift tied to the ring upon his finger.

The ring, made of enhanced dothril and forged by a Grandmaster jewelsmith of Novarria, glowed hot with power, but held. And the enchantments fashioned by a Grandmaster enchanter of Eldiron, did not burn out despite the heavy load it bore.

“By the Gods… it’s the size of a bleedin’ tower!”

“Get clear or be flattened like a crushed grape!”

The pillar balanced upon the palm of his raises hand, not at all straining him with his might. He felt and saw the rift leading to the plague world pulse for a singular moment, surprised and unprepared for the sight of a man lifting a gigantic tower-like structure in one hand.

[Halberd Throw 53 → Halberd Throw 55]

The pillar flew right for the open rift, shooting through with such power that an ear-piercing shockwave emanated from his position. It was as hard of a throw as he could manage without causing mass collateral damage to Lonvoron and the soldiers of the Collective surrounding him.

It was spatiomancy, so Orodan forced the mouth of the rift to open further via his own Space Mastery.

He could practically feel the surprise and unreadiness of the infected world core on the other side. Before it could even react the giant pillar was through the rift and slammed onto the surface of the Eldritch-corrupted world with extreme force.

One moment things were quiet, and the next… chaos erupted.

“Plague-tainted gits…” Fenton muttered as he activated the pillar remotely.

The plague forms suddenly began writhing in pain as a wave of purifications spread throughout the enemy world. Simultaneously, the core of the plague world reacted immediately and began sending champions towards the pillar in the hopes of destroying it, but these only served to add reinforcements to their side as the Transcendents and Gods who were tainted were immediately untainted.

A guttural roar came through the rift.

“Cease! Cease immediately! Siblings! I require your aid! This wicked device purges the truth; strips the embrace of provenance from us!”

The call resounded through not only the material plane, but through the dimensional boundary as well. It seems the plague worlds did not like being purified, and just like last time they were more than happy to call reinforcements.

The target infected world was halfway purged when three more rifts tore open next to it, each one leading directly to the very bosom of a planet consumed by the rot.

“Bloody hell… the blasted fiends are sendin’ almost all they’ve got at us,” Fenton muttered, preparing his gear. “You goin’ to step in on this one Mister Orodan? That’s a lot of plague forms.”

“No, I don’t think I’ll need to,” Orodan said, causing the lad some confusion as he simply looked to the sky. “Be ready to do your part Fenton. It’ll be good training for you and Clyburn both.”

“Our part? I’m happy to fight, but this many plague-”

“Who said anything about fighting?” Orodan interrupted.

He saw it. He felt it. The telltale signs of space being pried open on a massive scale across grand distances. He also felt the thread of connection between the world crown on his arm and its designated world glow hot. He could feel how Alastaia was utilizing a scale of power it hadn’t in a very, very long time, if at all. Like a giant stretching its muscles after a many millennia-long slumber.

And before his very eyes, before the eyes of all the soldiers of the Blackworth Collective who had been on the backfoot since three more plague rifts opened up…

“My spear shall pierce the enemy ranks first! For Alastaia!”

Orodan shouldn’t have been surprised to see the very first person through the grand portal being Zukelmux. The goblin charged down, landing upon the ground and spearing a plague form through the head before gallantly facing down a thousand-strong horde. His first student was the very personification of a spearhead, always insisting on joining the battle first like a rue vanguard; a characteristic in which he took after Orodan.

“No! Wait! You’ll get… you’ll get… infected?” Fenton muttered in confusion as the goblin began tearing through an utter swarm of chaff plague forms that tried mobbing him. “How the hell’s that little green man still alive?”

“Goblin. My very first student actually,” Orodan corrected. “And I did mention how my Celestial skill works, did I not?”

Zukelmux wasn’t the only one. More began coming through the portal.

Orodan felt the threads of connection form between every soldier of the Collective, Fenton, Clyburn and even himself as soul energy began slowly gathering towards the recipient of all these threads. That recipient being a halberdier who descended like a holy comet.

Adeltaj blazed with soul energy. The old halberdier’s training over the past five loops had paid off. Every sort of intense physical regimen via rare items, exorbitant treasures and exotic training environments had been focused onto him. The goal was a simple one; to make the old man’s body tougher and stronger so that he could utilize even more soul energy and for longer periods of time. And it had worked.

Like a salvation itself, the old man stood stoically between the soldiers of the Collective and the charging Eldritch horrors. The Simarji’s Halberd Mastery, now Transcendent-level, when amplified by his Mythical-rarity Burden of the Hero, was terrifyingly powerful.

Two early Transcendent-level plague commanders sallied forth from a rift to engage him, but both were shocked as Adeltaj’s melee prowess outstripped theirs. Certainly, sparring against Orodan Wainwright made anyone else seem inadequate in melee, and the old man was now showing these tainted Transcendents that there were levels to the art of combat.

But there were two more unpurified plague rifts with more enemy Gods and Transcendents now pouring out to exact revenge. In particular they seemed adamant on targeting Fenton who they mistakenly believed was the key to stopping the pillar’s operation.

Yet, before the swarms could converge, a heavenly array of elemental assaults rained down upon them. Fire, water, ice, wind, lightning, earth, light, dark… and even an element or two which Orodan didn’t normally see such as metal and lava, descended upon the tainted horde. Furthermore, numerous portals opened up across the battlefield, diverting Eldritch which were mid-charge and about to reach soldiers, into one another’s attacks or into Destartes’s own spells.

It was an awe-inspiring sight to see such spatiomantic control over the battlefield. Orodan had raw power, but not the finesse to do such fine acts and multi-task at the same time. It really did illustrate that while he was a hard worker, others when exposed to the same advantages of the time loops could surpass him in certain areas due to greater talent.

“A fine mess of things we’ve walked into, Mister Wainwright,” Destartes spoke, flinging more and more elemental spells while diverting a charging Transcendent war beast into Adeltaj’s Phoenix Strike via a portal. The man’s form was shimmering with power, dozens upon dozens of passive magics surrounding his form. “An excellent spot to conduct research on the limits of this Eternal Soul Reactor, though I’ve no interest in pushing it as far as you have.”

What need was their for a Blessing when Orodan could simply put the old mage through a most brutal regimen of pushing the soul over and over until he acquired the skill? Destartes demanded it, citing that reliance upon Orodan’s Blessing was a handicap in the long-term. And under such a demand, he was more than happy to use Time Reversal every time the old mage failed and blew up his own soul. The result was Eternal Soul Reactor, Mythical-rarity, and it really did allow the generation of a constant but perpetual stream of power… though not the ever-escalating upward intensity of it that Orodan could produce. Plus, the old man could only keep it going for so long before mental exhaustion took effect, but that was a timeframe measured in days and not minutes like his prior energy reserve limits were.

It had been the most brutal training regimen he had put anyone through to date, but the now Space Transcendent had not only acquired Eternal Soul Reactor but had also merged his separate magic masteries into the Mythical-rarity Elemental Mastery skill. Orodan had underestimated just how good Destartes really was. Everyone else he trained had grown and the older figureheads had reached Transcendence, yes, but none of them had achieved such rapid and substantial gains as the wizard had.

If Alastaia had a true talent upon it, someone who was likely to reach the very heights of magic, it would be Destartes.

“Indeed. Quite the blood-soaked hell you’ve brought us unto. I suppose it is only fitting that Alastaia make its debut on the cosmic stage upon such a field,” Balastion spoke, Eldarion alongside him. “Now then, hopefully this goes better than it did during that one unfortunate long loop of yours, Orodan.”

Before Orodan could even frown at the joke about the man’s fall to corruption, Balastion acted. There was no crown upon the first emperor’s brow, but his hand began emanating faint traces of purple-gray corruption anyways.

…the entirety of the horde began moving at a far more sluggish pace. The very Eldritch within them losing power and efficacy, neutered in potency. Even if the plague forms were still mad and under their masters’ bidding, the very fuel coursing through them had lost over half its power.

Orodan put a hand upon the first emperor’s shoulder and bid him stop.

“You’ve made admirable progress Balastion, but do not push yourself overmuch. Even with the incorruptible aspect of my Celestial skill your own willful descent into that taint will cause mental harm.”

Adeltaj and Eldarion had made normal gains; Destartes had surpassed everyone in the sheer amount of power he had accrued, but Balastion? The first emperor had flummoxed even Orodan by acquiring the Eldritch Mastery skill while still retaining his mind.

The man had worked closely alongside Edrosic and the eccentric Alovardo Balmento over the past five loops. Even Orodan, for all his battles against the purple-gray taint, only knew of how it corrupted people and how to best purge and fight it. He did not know it as intimately as someone like Alovardo Balmento, who was corrupted with it but retained his mind, did. And simply based off of time, nobody on Alastaia had as much experience and exposure to the Eldritch as Balastion Novar did with his crown.

Orodan would freely admit that the first emperor knew more about the minute and particulate properties of the Eldritch than he did simply based off of the fact that he’d been wielding the crown for twenty-thousand years. Over the past five loops the man had trained with Edrosic and Alovardo, but he’d also spent much time with Eldarion in getting his mind strengthened and his resolve fortified.

“Do not mind me, Mister Wainwright. I have nothing dramatic to display like everyone else does,” Eldarion added with a chuckle when he noticed Orodan looking at him. “Calm.”

The elf’s voice soothed a wave of charging corrupt beasts, removing their aggression and confusing them about what they were meant to be doing, allowing the Collective’s guns to hammer them.

It was true. The elven lord of friendship had been Alastaia’s first Transcendent, but the humans who were part of the loops had quickly surpassed him. And though it seemed as though it should have bothered the elven social Transcendent, it did not. If anything, Eldarion seemed relieved and happy every time Destartes, Adeltaj or Balastion gained in strength. As though a weight was being lifted off of his shoulders.

Of course, the irony was that without the elf, neither of the other three would have made it as far as they did. Every time Balastion was shaken after a grueling session of pushing himself deeper into the Eldritch, the Eldarion was there to have a gentle talk and soothe his spirit. Whenever Destartes grew tired of having his soul blown up in the repeated attempts to acquire Eternal Soul Reactor, Eldarion would be hovering with a kind word of pride and motivation. And whenever Adeltaj complained about the harsh physical training Orodan put the old man through, Eldarion would gently ask him to bear with it.

Frankly, even his own students and Talricto had begun going to the elf to let out the worries on their chest. Thus, Orodan felt that Eldarion’s self-assessment was unfair. Without him, none of the others would have had the strength to push past their limits.

“Damn… who are all these characters ser?” Fenton asked, and then, the lad stared. “Oy… this one’s got pointy ears… what the hell?”

“He is an elf, Fenton. Not human like you and I,” Orodan explained. “His people are in fact the most powerful civilization upon my world and Eldarion has done much to get us where we are today.”

“Greetings, young Fenton Penny. Orodan Wainwright has spoken at length about you. Once we are done here there are plenty of sights upon Alastaia for you to see,” Eldarion returned with an understanding smile for someone who had likely never seen an elf before. “Any student of Orodan’s is a friend of Aldenil.”

And speaking of students, the remaining three finally came through the portal as well.

Aliya, a spear in her hands, lunged forward like a deadly lancer. Her battle-power was at the peak of the Elite-level; unfathomable for an eight-year-old child. The mana exercises she’d been put through had also paid dividends and she had taken a liking to the element of wind. Like a lancing wasp hunting prey, her spearmanship and combat style had been refined to where she flitted in and out of range, using the spear’s reach to drill holes in weaker plague forms and retreat with the very wind aiding her steps.

And Wainroach, a living terror of fire, was now a true monster with the aid of Fire Mastery, Fire Resistance and the Elemental Living Enchantments Orodan had inscribed unto her body. She flitted from plague form to plague form, burning entire swathes while remaining untouched by virtue of how small and difficult to spot she was. Certainly, the fact that most of the Eldritch battle forms were mindless and frenzied didn’t help when it came to spotting her.

Aliya and Wainroach had grown quite close and enjoyed working alongside each other. Periodically, whenever Aliya was getting boxed in, the cockroach would clear a route out for her to continue her mobile hit-and-remain-out-of-reach style of fighting. In return the girl was more than happy to help Wainroach’s flames burn even hotter during particularly large attacks by using the wind element to amplify the heat and explosion.

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They worked well together.

Which was more than could be said for Edrosic who came through the portal…

…and yelled as he fell from the air to the ground.

“I was never taught any flight magic! Orodan!”

“You have Apprentice-level Physical Fitness you lazy fool, you can survive even a fall from the cloud layer in tandem with Iron Body,” Orodan lectured with a sigh as Edrosic hit the ground, kicking up dirt.

“Ow…” the militia man whined and then noticed Fenton, extending a friendly hand. “Oh, hello. You must be Fenton Penny, good to meet you! You seem like you’ve lived a rough life, no wonder Orodan picked you up.”

Trust Edrosic to see right through a person and who they really were within moments of meeting. An uncanny ability which only amplified the man’s ability to draw life-like and profound sketches.

Fenton took the hand, looking more confused and befuddled by the moment.

“I like to draw things, yes,” Edrosic said with a cheery smile and then took on a defensive look. “H-hey! Don’t look at me like that! I have a day job too!”

“I… I didn’t even say nothin’!” Fenton retorted, although the look one might give an unemployed layabout was still present on his face.

“This isn’t exactly the hour for socializing Edrosic, go on and help Aliya and Wainroach. Steer clear of the Masters and above… or don’t. It’ll be good training,” Orodan said with a grin.

The militia man grumbled but dashed off to join the battle. He certainly wasn’t a bad fighter, being capable of fighting weaker Elites now, but his combat power lagged behind everyone’s by a decent margin.

That was… if one didn’t take his drawings and calligraphy into account.

Edrosic’s sword was held in his left hand, but he concurrently held stacks of paper and empty scrolls too, and in his right hand, a brush and quill. The man dipped the brush in magical ink and quickly dragged the implement upon a scroll, turning it into a spell scroll in less than a second. A moment later a powerful chain lightning storm electrocuted a swarm of five-hundred beasts. From there it jumped to another, and then another.

The scroll in Edrosic’s hands burned to ash, but the spell kept going despite the moderate amount of mana he put into it, stopping only after killing three-thousand Apprentice and Adept-level plague forms.

“As you can see, despite being a bit of a conflict-averse individual, he has his own talents,” Orodan remarked, noticing how Fenton’s expression had changed to one of shock at the sight.

“Soldiers of the Collective! Work with the otherworlders! Provide covering fire!” the company lieutenant barked, ordering her troops into a swift and organized formation which complemented the Alastaians fighting the Eldritch up front. “The King’s banner approaches! King Alstatyn’s joining the field! Have hope!”

Still, the King’s army, although approaching and visible, was a good five miles out and would take at least ten to fifteen minutes to arrive even at maximal pace. The crack of gunfire could be heard in the distance and dangerous high-level plague forms died as the Transcendent sharpshooters under the King’s banner began contributing already even from that range, but it was still little assistance for what was three plague worlds’ worth of Eldritch swarming out.

“Ser these are some fine folk and all, but they ain’t an army. We’re lookin’ to be overwhelmed soon if we don’t-”

And as if on cue, a singular diminutive individual stepped through the portal. A halfling. Next to him was Virion Ethweni of Eldiron, Yarostov Iron-Bear of Guzuhar and Demosthenos Albathrax of Novarria.

“What a mess indeed… it seems Master Destartes did not lie about this being a field of blood and war. Our combined forces could barely match the army of a singular one of these plague worlds,” Tegin Carrotfoot said, a frown on the halfling’s face. “But what we lack in numbers I believe we make up in quality.”

“Hahah! Indeed! We of Clan Iron-Bear and the other kingdoms and tribes of the north shall prove our mettle today! For Ozgaric!”

“Ozgaric? Eldiron must lead by example and show the peak of Alastaian military might to these otherworlders, we shall not be outdone,” Virion declared.

“Elves…” Demosthenos muttered. “We cannot let Novarria be outshone today. Come Vespidia, let us take to the field.”

Tegin could only sigh at the competitive nature of the other nations’ military leaders. But the halfling wasn’t intent on being outdone either.

“And of course, we must remind everyone why the Republic has remained an independent nation for a hundred-and-twenty years. Captain Argon, shall we?”

Fenton’s eyes widened as hundreds and thousands of troops began filing out through the grand portal and onto Lonvoron. Elves clad in gleaming, enchanted armor with rows of spirit mages assisting. Novarrians, Republicans and Easterners clad in thick plate with battlemages alongside, and Guzuharans with their warriors, spirit mages and monster cavalry.

Vespidia was present as well on the side of Novarria, and on the side of the Republic… a man who he had forced into adopting a new identity at the very beginning of the loop. No longer a Baron, but a battlemage of the Republic army bereft of a first name, but still known merely as Captain Argon.

The man looked happier and full of more resolve than he ever had in all the times Orodan had fought him in the past. And he was also the recipient of Orodan’s Elemental Living Enchantment, his Argon pyromancy Bloodline making him a prime candidate.

He wasn’t the only one either.

Rows upon rows of battlemages and talented spellblades with Resistance skills or particular elemental masteries had Orodan’s elemental enchantments upon them, their combat power amplified. Some of these even had elementals from their corresponding elemental planes accompanying them.

And just when it seemed as though that was it, the rainy skies of Lonvoron turned even darker, as a glowing cloud of lightning emerged through the grand portal. This-One-Who-Electrifies-Horizons was looking powerful, and following the elemental lord was a procession of smaller lightning elementals, ready to reinforce Alastaia.

The dragon flights of Novarria, the Republic and the East came forth as well, led by their patriarchs and Cyvrosdyr. Accompanying them, an exceptionally old dragon from Eldiron who carried the power of a quadruple-Grandmaster.

And behind those, the spider dragons of the Dokuhan Mountains.

All of Alastaia’s might was arrayed here, ready to fight. Ready to showcase the planet’s might to the cosmos and liberate Lonvoron from the Eldritch threat in the process.

“So many rows of sword, shields and spears… I ain’t ever seen anything like it…” Fenton muttered. “And what the hell are those? Flying lizards?”

“You dare?!” Cyvrosdyr roared. “A hairless ape such as you would not know even a thousandth of the splendor of us-”

The World Guardian’s rant was interrupted by the other dragon flight patriarchs who were more understanding of the fact that this was a boy who had never seen their kind before.

“Orodan Wainwright… it is done. The gathered forces of our world are now upon Lonvoron, it is now in your hands,” the world spirit of Alastaia spoke.

“No… now it’s in the hands of Fenton,” Orodan said, looking at the lad.

“M-me? Ain’t this a bit much for me to deal with ser?” the lad stuttered out.

“It would be if I expected you to run headlong into the enemy army while leading everyone,” Orodan said. Although that did sound like good training for the lad. “No. It’s time for you to build the remaining pillars. You and Clyburn both.”

The chief engineer who had been rendered entirely speechless all this time finally spoke up.

“With what materials? With what time? How can we build the pillars of purifications in the middle of a blasted battlefield?”

“Worry not. He’ll help you,” Orodan said, gesturing to the portal.

For a moment, nobody came out… but then…

“Careful with moving that pillar! You, you and you! Move to the foremost one! And tell your group leader to rotate ninety degrees so we can pass that bottleneck!” a familiar voice barked from behind the portal as a gigantic tower-sized pillar came through. “Speed it up! We have an active battle going on out here and the soldiers need help!”

“As you can see, we have large portions of the pillar pre-built already. Perhaps not to the standards of you two, but that’s why you’re here. Come Fenton, let’s get these pillars up to standard. It’s the chance for-”

“For good training, yes, yes,” Fenton cut off, looking excited now at the prospect of the challenge.

Even with Orodan and Clyburn helping, the expectation was that they would be tuning up and bringing up to standard five more pillars of purification pre-built on Alastaia.

“You, boy, get to work on enchanting this section of the first pillar before any others!” Old Man Hannegan barked. “Orodan, I need you over here!”

And so the work began, even as both Fenton and Clyburn were utterly confused about why and more importantly how the old foreman was ordering them about. Their doubts and complaints swiftly stopped the moment they realized the old man’s instructions were producing tangible effects.

“Why… slap me silly… I ain’t ever enchanted it this good before,” Fenton muttered even as he was absorbed in the work.

Orodan too, held faith in Alastaia’s forces, his students and the Transcendents he’d trained to hold the line. So he too worked in an assistive capacity, helping Fenton and Clyburn out by functioning as a reliable laborer even as the battle raged around them.

[Laboring 66 → Laboring 67]

Under the power of his Celestial skill—specifically the Incorruptible Being aspect—the Alastaian army was immune to Eldritch corruption by touch. Sure, if someone was thrown directly before the Eldritch Boundless One or touched it, that protection would end. But it was no weakness on the part of his skill if it took the very source of Eldritch within System space to overpower the immunity he granted.

These regular Eldritch though, were swiftly torn apart by the melee-proficient men and women of his home world’s militaries. The Alastaians were more than proving their worth, even on a soldier-to-soldier level, against the ferocious swarms of Eldritch.

“Good Gods… they’re like the shinin’ knights out of the old stories me nan used to tell!” one sergeant exclaimed.

“Ain’t never seen people swing swords about that quick… and is that a halberd? Seen those on ceremonial suits of armor in a blue-blood’s manor once…” another muttered.

Where the men and women of the Blackworth Collective were more focused on their war machines guncraft, the forces of Alastaia were experts with armor, melee weaponry, cavalry and spells. Orodan’s world was one of swords and sorcery, and the difference made itself known as formations of heavy infantry from Novarria and the Republic held the line fearlessly against the forces of the Eldritch. Elites, Masters and a Grandmaster leading the formation. Perhaps not as strong soldier-to-soldier compared to the premier factions of the cosmos, but more than enough to withstand the swarm tactics of the plague worlds.

For a soldier of the Collective, their rifle was their lifeline. Even half the fresh-faced recruits looked as though they’d fired a rifle before and were decent shots. But in melee? They were prey. A weakness now covered by the troops of Alastaia.

Yarostov Iron-Bear atop a house-sized white-maned ursine beast charged right through a group of tough-shelled turtle-like beasts who had their shells interlocked and were slowly advancing towards the gunlines. The bullets were having a difficult time truly penetrating the shells, but the armored bear cavalry the Guzuharan led in a charge made short work of them.

“Fear the bite of the Iron-Bear cavalry!” the Master-level northerner roared, inspiring the Collective’s troops into having greater morale.

Of course, the Collective proved their worth too, with their sharpshooters, war machines and artillery far outperforming any ranged troops of Alastaia. Furthermore, the few steam knights that the company had valiantly fought alongside the frontline troops of Orodan’s world, earning their respect.

The plague worlds must have realized by now how large an army they were facing. A peak-Transcendent commander stepped out of one of the rifts, one of the mightiest Eldritch plague forms yet. And it was intelligent too.

“Where have these interlopers come from? The master shall not be pleased with this development…” the infected commander spoke. “Open the rifts wider. Let them have a full taste of the truth.”

Orodan knew what was coming next, but that was fine, because so did Tegin Carrotfoot and all the Alastaian commanders who had been thoroughly briefed on exactly what the plague worlds and their infected cores were capable of.

“Redirect formation! Aid elder Destartes!” an Alastaian Grandmaster space mage ordered, directing the entirety of his home world’s spatiomancers towards stopping the attack.

Destartes himself immediately redirected his efforts towards disrupting the titanic beam of Eldritch energy spewing out one of the rifts. The old wizard had several spatial rifts open, and although they were on the verge of tearing, the spatiomancer battle groups of Alastaia assisted their Transcendent.

Eldarion used his social skill to continually utter phrases urging the spatiomancers and Destartes to keep focused and maintain peak performance, while Balastion stepped forward and did his best to weaken the beam of Eldritch power even as it continued pressing against the spatial rifts and threatening to shatter them.

Finally, Adeltaj gathered a large amount of soul energy via his Mythical skill, considering the entire Alastaian army and the soldiers of Lonvoron to be his charges, and focused it into the tip of his halberd.

With a mighty hurl, the halberd was thrown right at the peak-Transcendent plague form.

A roar of pain tore free from its foul mouth as it was grievously wounded. Adeltaj was down on a knee, the burden of bearing that much power within himself even momentarily having proven strenuous, but the Eldritch commander looked worse off, bearing a wound that didn’t look like it would heal easily.

The beam fizzled out and died and the space mages of Alastaia managed to forcibly narrow down the mouth of that particular plague rift.

In response even more plague forms now began pouring out, the force of three entire plague worlds. Terrestrial monsters were the majority, but many of the infected monstrosities were aerial too. Furthermore, infected trees were coming forth. And while the Alastaians were immune to Eldritch corruption, the soldiers of the Collective’s military company were not.

“Infected tree! Burn it now! Burn it or we all turn!” the company lieutenant yelled, fear in his voice. The sighting of one of these was a big deal.

Orodan was on the verge of pausing his work upon the pillars to render aid, but that wasn’t necessary.

Not when two gigantic branches flew out the grand portal leading to Alastaia and proceeded to spear into the ground next to the hardy infantry formations of Novarrians and Republicans. From these branches, saplings sprung forth. And within seconds, at the cost of extreme amounts of world energy which Orodan sensed via the crown he wore, the saplings grew into trees the size of houses.

“It’s the wisdom tree of Aldenil!” an elf cheered. “The ancient one has come to aid us!”

“Your world has walking trees too?!” Fenton asked, continually surprised by one turn of events after the other.

The two newly matured trees which sprouted from the ground where the branches had entered, now began letting their leaves and pollen loose into the air. This substance, magical in nature, began combating the corrupted spores in the air which would have otherwise begun infecting the Collective’s soldiers. Furthermore, the two elven trees were winning the particulate duel against the corrupted trees the enemy plague worlds sent forth. The elven leaves and pollen began landing upon and brutally burning and melting many of the plague forms.

The flying monsters which threatened to swoop down from the skies were also countered by companies of pegasus knights from the Eastern Kingdoms and the dragon flights and elementals. Furthermore, Ashganruk the Safeguard of Xan’Coran now charged through the Alastaian side of the portal and began rampaging amidst the ranks of the Eldritch. Atop the spider dragon’s back were massed ranks of drow raining down arrows onto the enemy swarms.

The whispering, shrieking voice of the eldest of the world cores carried across the air. Accompanying that command came a new tide of Eldritch foes. The swarm tactics which had been ineffectual against the Alastaian infantry line were called off, and instead out came ranks upon ranks of Eldritch infantry. Corrupted warriors wielding shields, clad in heavy armor and wielding ferocious weapons.

Unlike the chaff of before, these were the real troops of the plague worlds. Held in reserve until truly needed. Two more plague rifts opened up as well, increasing the number of enemies swarming them. At this point, all of the Eldritch presence across the Collective’s various planets was focused upon them. In moments, this patch of ground within the dead zone had become the single most intense and important battle of the conflict.

The plague forms clearly saw and noticed that Fenton, Clyburn and Orodan were building more pillars, and thus began a mad dash to get to them and interrupt the process at all costs.

“Quick Fenton! We must hurry!” Clyburn rushed.

Orodan agreed. Doughty and brave as the frontline ranks of Alastaian infantry were, they were but Masters and Elites led by Grandmasters. The Transcendents of Alastaia too, while strong, would be facing far too many infected Transcendents, and more importantly… enemy Gods who had now begun sending out Blessed troops.

And while Orodan could have solved the entire matter by himself, it would have gone against his wishes to see Alastaia stand on its own two feet. Better his world and its peoples be strong, independent and capable of defending themselves than being weak puppets resting under the shade of his strength. It was necessary for what he intended to do.

However not all was lost. Even as the Eldritch sent scores of troops Blessed by infected Gods, Alastaia had its own answer.

Orodan felt the world crown on his arm flare hot, the telltale sign that the world core was pouring a large amount of energy into something.

That something became apparent as the dimensional boundary parted, and a young boy emerged. Glowing with grayish/white power, the faith of millions empowering each of his steps.

Clan Iron-Bear and Yarostov froze, their gazes that of utter reverence and worship as they beheld the holy form of their prime deity.

“By the snowy peaks of Xilirdus’s Ascent… our lord has descended to aid us! Men and women of Clan Iron-Bear! We cannot lose! Lord Ozgaric himself has come to fight with us!”

The northerners were whipped into a mad battle frenzy at the sight of their God physically entering the material plane. Yet, the Guzuharan God of Trickery and Illusions wasn’t the only divine to enter the field.

“The God-Queen has come!”

“All glory to the God of Death!”

“My wounds knit together! Halor’s divine presence eases my pains!”

“I feel the power of Truth and Justice flowing through me! Glory to Faraine!”

That last bit of praise was silenced as Cithrel, the God-Queen of elvenkind, glared at the declarer. She then turned her icy gaze towards the formerly imprisoned Goddess.

Said Goddess turned her glare right back, and Orodan could swear he felt the winds of danger pick up around the two, the battle momentarily stilling.

…Faraine turned to Eldarion and gave the elf a most playful wink.

“You dare?! You foul harlot, long have I known your affections for my husband were no figment of my imagination!”

“Perhaps if you were not such a controlling tyrant, Eldarion’s hand might rest more securely in your grasp.”

As for the unfortunate elven lord of friendship? He could only cower and lower his head in shame.

But that was fine, for the pillars were finally finished.

[Laboring 67 → Laboring 68]

Orodan helped right the final piece of metal on the pillar as per Clyburn’s specifications and then hefted the tower-sized pillar onto his shoulder.

“If you three might cease your lovers’ spat?” Orodan asked while walking in-between them, pillar on his shoulder and obscuring their view of one another. “We have plague worlds to cleanse and they’ve started to realize that preventing us from building the pillars is a futile task. I believe they’ll try to retreat and close the rifts soon.”

“All of that is irrelevant. Yes, he’s a pretty elf, likely prettier than the both of you, but that does not excuse bickering like orphans over the last scrap of bread,” Orodan said, causing them both to have looks of outrage on their faces. “Eldarion, if you might deal with your wife, and Vespidia, if you might deal with your Goddess. We have a world to liberate and our own planet to defend at the end of all this.”

With that said, Orodan hurled the pillar right through one of the remaining five rifts.

A peak-Transcendent infected knight tried to get in the way, but his current Physical Fitness, Body Tempering and Absolute Body Composition combined to make him ridiculously strong. The corrupted knight was speared with the pillar all the way to the plague world’s core, where the purification process began.

“They’re trying to close the rifts! Space mages! Keep those pathways forced open!” Destartes ordered, working on keeping a rift open by himself while the Alastaian army’s spatiomancers worked on another.

Unfortunately that still left two more rifts which were unattended, and it was Orodan who held them ajar with the raw power of his Grandmaster-level Space Mastery and the limitless power of his soul.

Alastaia’s divines in the meanwhile surged forward to meet the enemy in combat. Kept in the material plane through the continual supplication of power by Alastaia’s world core. Their planet was a small one, the world core not very large, but one advantage it had over larger worlds was its purity of energy as a result of Orodan purging all the corruption from it.

As a result, the world energy flowed from it at a far quicker pace, allowing it to match the feats of even large world cores in certain situations. Such as now where a dozen of the planet’s Gods were kept in the material plane through force of power, battling against the Eldritch.

Ozgaric, Halor, Malzim, Cithrel, Faraine and Athandelu were half of that. The other half were minor Guzuharan Gods and Goddesses under Ozgaric’s leadership. Their direct presence not only added combat power to the Alastaian army, but also caused the Blessings of their faithful among the army to become more powerful since they were closer to the source of them.

The Alastaian divines clashed with Eldritch battle lines just as the corrupted warriors met the Alastaian infantry. Immediately the elven divines were standouts in direct combat. Cithrel, Faraine and Athandelu were old, far older than the other Gods of Alastaia. And it showed in how powerful they were. Orodan projected they were in the upper 140s in whatever skill they were divine in.

Halor and Malzim fought well together, but they were perhaps in the 110s. Ozgaric though, was a different matter, displaying combat power close to the level of a peak-Transcendent. It was the first time the God of Illusions and Trickery was getting a chance to unleash the full extent of his power. And although it looked utterly comical, seeing a glowing young boy weave illusions, conjure tricks and misdirect foes, it was no jest once those illusions turned very much alive, or the minds of several Transcendent plague forms began descending into further madness and they hit the ground babbling about tea and snakes.

For the past five loops, Orodan had not only been training his students and Alastaia’s Transcendents, but had also been honing the abilities of the one divine whose memories he ferried along for the loops.

The northern God’s story was a tragic one. A hundred-thousand years ago the young boy, incredibly talented in the arts of mind magic, illusion and trickery, was forced into ascending to divinity by his own people, who were desperate to shift the balance of an ongoing ancient war against Agorhiku by having a divine of their own who had great power.

It meant that Ozgaric was possibly the youngest Grandmaster Orodan had ever heard of in his life. And his potential had been sabotaged as a result of circumstance. But beneath that, the potential still remained. And it was this potential that Orodan had ruthlessly targeted and drawn out via extreme training regimens over the past five loops. The northern God was already near the 140s at the start of the loops. So Orodan had no problem continually pushing him harder and harder until that power was raised.

Putting himself aside, between Ozgaric descending directly and Destartes at full power, he wasn’t sure which of them were Alastaia’s mightiest combatant.

The addition of a dozen allied Gods to their side helped slow the tide of the Eldritch infantry’s advance. Still, the press of shield-to-shield and infantry against infantry was an ugly thing. Alastaian soldiers fell in droves under the pressure of such intense combat, but a powerful combat corps of chronomancers and soul mages bearing Orodan’s Blessing were on full-time duty performing combat resurrections. The main limitation when it came to that was power, and with his Blessing the frontline quickly replaced its losses.

Furthermore, repeated deaths and the chance to return for another go were a great driver for growth. Throughout the fighting, handfuls of peak-Masters reached Grandmastery, slowly increasing the battle power of his home world’s forces. And although the allied infantry were dying and rising again, so too were Eldritch falling in droves. The enemy’s chronomancers were unable to keep up the pace of combat resurrections at the same pace as their side could.

It was a desperate push from the Eldritch, to reach not Fenton or the pillars, but the Alastaian corps of space mages and Destartes who were holding two of the rifts forcibly open. The plague worlds refused to go quietly. They tried firing more beams of corrupted energy out the openings, they tried sending all their reserves of Transcendents and Gods out to pressure the allied forces, and they even tried physically blocking the rift entrances with dense and thick plague matter and multiple defensive specialist Transcendents.

These were all for naught once Orodan hurled another pillar through one of the rifts, smashing it right through with brutal force and raw might.

Destartes also managed to teleport another one of the pillars directly through a rift and begin the process of purging that plague world. Three down, three more to go.

The remaining plague worlds were in full-blown panic mode as they realized how dire the situation looked for them. Half of their lot had been purged, and some of the converted and purified warriors and creatures of the swarms even began joining the allied forces in taking revenge against the remaining corrupted foes.

Even King Alstatyn’s army now drew close enough that heavy bombardments began pounding the Eldritch ranks and creating further openings.

Adeltaj struck another pillar with his halberd, sending it through a rift, beginning the process of purging that world as well. Two left.

Things were going well, and Orodan knew exactly what would come next.

A set of eight-legs appeared and landed upon his shoulder.

“It’s moving, and so is she,” Talricto warned.

“Good. Edrosic, are you ready?” Orodan asked, pulling the militia man from the midst of combat. “Let’s hope this works. If not, this loop might just end here and now.”

For even if Orodan used the insights he’d been meticulously developing to win here, the fact remained that Lonvoron and a good portion of the Collective and its star systems wouldn’t survive the clash between him and the Prophet. And from there, things would escalate to involving more than just the Prophet, which would almost certainly end the loop.

And when he had something important to do, he couldn’t afford to let himself get swallowed by the thrill of mindless battle. People were counting on him to succeed.

The din of battle continued on, but his senses were keen and carefully monitored the dimensional boundary. He would not miss its arrival this time.

Then, a brief flicker, very subtle. But Orodan had been training with Talricto all this time. The spider’s control over Dimensionalism was better, and he knew what to expect as that wretched thing wearing the guise of an old man wielding a scepter came through. The dimensional forces surrounded it too, making it difficult to even notice for anyone without keen sight or knowledge of the art themselves.

The Prophet’s eyes surveyed the battlefield. It focused on Fenton, on Ozgaric, but more importantly… on Orodan.

And he looked right back…

[Incipience of Infinity 149 → Incipience of Infinity 150]

…and let the vile Administrator taste Infinity.

The Prophet’s mind wasn’t strong. He had fought and killed it once before; perhaps not fairly, but he had done it. Thus it was no surprise when a shriek reverberated across the battlefield and the Administrator fell to a knee as its mind was overwhelmed. The additional level and insight he gained in his second Celestial skill also added to the damage.

“Now Balastion! It stands where my gaze falls!” Orodan instructed. “Edrosic, we’re counting on you.”

The first emperor looked towards the almost imperceptible location where the Prophet was, and although the man couldn’t see his target, he did feel it via the presence of Eldritch. And Balastion Novar took a deep breath and threw his all into weakening the Eldritch present within the Prophet.

The Prophet’s hands now came up to cover its face. Its body language and demeanor screamed that it was desperate and in surprise at an attack that had managed to so directly strike at its mind, followed by one which weakened its power source. Yet, these were not the blows which were meant to best it.

No, they were instead mere delays, meant to buy time for one particular person to get a good look at the Administrator.

Talricto’s forelegs were touching the head of Parthus Edrosic, allowing the militia man to clearly see the kneeling and weakened Administrator despite the dimensional obscuration. In the artist’s hands was a parchment and ink. And in Parthus’s eyes was determination as he cut through all the surface-level emotions and the context of the situation to see who the Prophet really was underneath.

And with that knowledge, Edrosic drew. The militia man’s face was utterly pale, and Orodan could sense the sheer strain upon his soul as he sketched this drawing, but he pressed on despite that.

Whatever the Drawing Elite was doing, it was a level of the skill that the man had never delved into before.

Eventually, the Prophet rose again, enraged beyond belief. Without Fenton drawing attention to himself this time, Almyra wasn’t here to buffer the Administrator’s wrath. In fact, it might even be to her advantage if the vile zealot blew his chance and interfered here, for that would cause the Warrior to chase after it and grant her a reprieve. And by the looks of it, the Prophet didn’t seem to care if it reduced this entire star system to rubble in recompense.

But that was fine, for as power entered the corrupted preacher’s scepter… Edrosic turned his completed drawing towards its face. And naturally, its gaze landed upon the perfectly lifelike sketching.

Everything did besides the Prophet and Orodan. It had stopped time using the Mantle, but then time resumed again, only to stop after.

It was after the sixth such occurrence that he realized the Prophet wasn’t doing that intentionally. Something in what it had seen… had rattled it. Badly.

It wasn’t a human, he knew this. But the way its crafted face held an expression of genuine revelation wasn’t false.

Orodan’s sword and shield were in hand. He was ready to do battle and even began walking towards his foe.

Only for the Prophet to tremble once and then step back into the dimensional boundary, its eyes wide with deep introspection and revelation the entire time.

“Did… did we win Orodan?” Edrosic asked, barely able to remain standing after his feat.

“I… think we did… for now,” he replied, taking the drawing from the man’s hands and looking upon it.

Even he froze as he stared. The drawing wasn’t meant for him, so it didn’t have the same effect, but the sheer quality and lifelike nature of it was unfathomable.

It was as though someone had taken a perfect snapshot of reality and pasted it unto the parchment. Nay… even Orodan’s very eyes could not see the real world so… vividly. Looking at the drawing it felt as though his eyes were false and he should carve them out for daring to imply that he saw the real world while this portrait existed. The very canvas itself told a picture with but a glance.

And although it wasn’t a picture meant for him, he could see why the Prophet had been so shaken.

It was a portrait of the Administrator, but not entirely.

On one half was the Fallen Void Archon it truly was, on the other was its crafted human guise. Both fighting for dominance, both struggling. But beyond that struggle, somehow, the painting evoked the primal desire to be free of this conflicting duality, to find a place of belonging and safety for itself and perhaps its exiled people.

It was such an impossible drawing too. If Orodan looked at the Fallen Void Archon half, it was as though the entire painting was of it. But if he looked at the human half it was as though he was looking at the drawing of a human. And if he looked at the center only then would he see the duality and the struggle. But even behind that, he could sense there was a message not quite hitting him since it was not meant for him to see.

In a singular drawing, Edrosic had managed to show the Prophet what it truly desired.

And by the looks of how the fight near them was going, the battle had been won.

“You’re as paranoid as I am bullheaded.”

“And you are as brutish as I am cautious. Paranoia is not a bad thing.”

“Neither is being straightforward,” Orodan replied.

“If not for the numerous wards I have surrounding my galaxy, your straightforward idiocy would have us fighting multiple Administrators and Embodiers by now,” Almyra replied, nursing the lump on her head; the woman’s skin was no longer pale either. He also noted that she had shifted her language to saying ‘us’, which was a welcome change. “And I still take issue with your atrocious diplomatic method of hitting me over the head.”

“Can you blame me? Adeltaj and Eldarion were failing to get you to reveal yourself with their silver tongues, so I had to step in. Besides, I feel people understand one another best after a friendly brawl,” Orodan replied with a smile. “Although, perhaps you aren’t wrong about me having nearly upended our entire mission.”

Indeed, there was a reason Embodiers weren’t found within galaxies. Administrators came after them for it. And if not those, then other Embodiers with the same concept did. Orodan had forgotten said critical detail when entering Lonvoron, but thankfully Almyra—being an Embodier too—had planned for this.

She was one of two Embodiers he knew who lived within the confines of a galaxy. The other one being an Embodiment-level dwarf who supposedly laid claim upon an entire black hole and even the Administrators couldn’t directly assail him. Almyra was the other one, but living in a far more secretive manner. And even then, the Prophet was on her tail, or had been until recently.

“You are an idiot, Orodan Wainwright…” she muttered.

“That’s what everyone says. I shall take that as a compliment,” he replied with a happy grin.

The door to the meeting room opened and in walked King Alstatyn. The man’s steps were regal, and they were purposeful as he walked right up to Orodan. He knew what was about to occur too, so before the man could kneel he was instead caught and held upright.

“No. I do not need your service, your fealty or your gratitude,” Orodan said without allowing the man to get a word in.

The King’s face flushed, his crown and fanciful tophat practically sliding down in embarrassment.

“Erm… was I that obvious?”

“No, but I have been through a few too many of these to not see them coming,” Orodan explained and looked to Adeltaj and Eldarion walking up behind the Collective’s ruler. “I assume you’ve been told about the time loops and what we are planning?”

“Quite so. Anyone else might balk at it, but when Almyra here is, or was, a time looper herself… I caught on immediately,” King Alstatyn replied. “Whatever you need in this endeavor, troops, war materiel, funds, the Blackworth Collective shall do its best to support you. With the Eldritch purged from our territories altogether we are safer and more free than we have ever been to provide aid beyond our borders.”

“Although the matter of the Prophet still concerns me… I do not know what your protege did to him, but none of my sensors for Administrator presence near our galaxy are active. And they would usually always be on signifying his constant eye,” Almyra explained. “I do not think he will leave us alone.”

“Edrosic, bedridden as the boy was, did not think so either,” Adeltaj added. “He and Balastion are doing better, you should know. Some minor soul damage, major in the case of Balastion, but nothing they will not recover from.”

“I’ll personally set about healing them before we return. The both of them did fantastically, far better than I could have ever imagined,” Orodan praised. Actually forcing an Administrator to retreat was just ridiculous. Edrosic was clearly an anomaly, but it wouldn’t have been possible without Balastion either.

“Your people have done well in defending us. And that ability of yours which makes your soldiers immune to the corruptive powers of the plague…”

“Shall be granted unto your forces as well,” Orodan reassured. “I have no doubt the Prophet will return in time. That being said, that wicked zealot is only after one thing…”

And his gaze fell to the item in Almyra’s hands.

“The Reject’s Mantle,” Almyra finished. “You are not incorrect, Orodan Wainwright. With this item gone, that corrupt spreader of the plague has no reason to return here. But if we do as you suggest… will that not place your world at great risk?”

“It shall. But it is something we will have to bear if the plan I have in mind is to come to fruition. Alastaia must stand on its own two feet against the forces of the cosmos. And I must be capable of besting the coming foes before we can truly be safe.”

“Which will also involve rebuilding the ancient machine properly,” Eldarion added. “The device upon our world, when rebuilt to proper specification, will allow us access to the very depths of the System itself.”

“Madness… I still think it the height of insanity to attempt to breach the very bowels of it all and make contact with this Boundless One. Why is it necessary?” Almyra questioned, looking quite afraid of the prospect.

“Because… I intend to access the time loop mechanism itself.”

Silence greeted his answer. Only now did he truly reveal what he intended to do.

“You intend to enact a permanent change? Bring more people into the loops directly?” Adeltaj asked.

“Something along those lines.” Thᴇ link to the origɪn of this information rᴇsts ɪn NoveI(F)ire.net

“But why require direct access to that device? What if things go awry and you permanently damage it? You mentioned that you changed the timeline in the past even without directly touching it,” the old halberdier argued.

“You are right on all those counts old man. But what I intend to do isn’t something small. I’ll need closer access to the time loop mechanism for it lest I enact some… undesirable changes.”

“Hmm… I wouldn’t want to be erased from existence again,” Adeltaj joked.

“You… what?” Almyra asked, her face paling in horror. “You permanently affected the loops? How?!”

“You’re an Embodier. Have you not touched upon concepts?” he asked her in turn.

“I… have, but the concept of Replication is still new to me… I have much to learn and it feels as though so much of it is blocked off from me.”

Replication? That was the first time he had learned of her concept. Little wonder she fought with clones and had written so meticulously on the prospect of Action Increases herself. It was a concept which lent well to her natural paranoia too.

“It’s blocked off because other, stronger Embodiers are monopolizing the concept itself. Either beating them through insights or killing them is the only way forward,” Orodan answered. “I do not know how or why it is this way… but I suspect it’s one of the few things that holds true even outside of System space. Even the Boundless I met seemed to know of concepts.”

“A daunting prospect… but perhaps with time, we can increase my control over this nebulous thing,” Almyra said.

The conversation soon turned to matters of planning, logistics and the timing on what they would do and how they would approach the problems facing them.

“It is agreed then. I and the Mantle will venture to Alastaia… though we shall have to set up secure wards to prevent your and my pursuers from finding us immediately,” Almyra said. “And from there, assault this Hegemony.”

“Yes, if they are as antagonistic towards your world as you say, then striking first is our only option,” King Alstatyn spoke. “Although bombarding worlds from the void might not achieve as much as we would like.”

“No… bombarding their worlds would only cause senseless deaths among the innocent and uninvolved,” Orodan denied. “I think we need to hit them where it hurts. Someplace not in the material plane, and something I’ll need access to anyhow.”

“Not in the material plane?” Adeltaj asked, but Eldarion next to him caught on quickly.

“The soul nexus of our world…”

Which led directly to the afterlife.

“I would say we really need to stop meeting , but at this point the war room is becoming our preferred haunt, is it not?”

“Though, the Lieutenant-General does not seem too pleased about that,” Orodan said, trying to hold back a laugh.

“That would be because- excuse me, could you get off of my foot?”

“That would be because- pardon, I know I am vertically challenged but could you get your rear out of my face?”

“Why I’m terribly sorry darling.”

“Because- alright, that’s it! One more person rests their elbow upon my head and I’m calling for an artillery strike upon this tower!” Tegin Carrotfoot yelled, having reached the limits of his patience.

Orodan felt bad for putting all this upon the poor halfling. In a sense, perhaps it was a good thing that Anthus’s commanding officer did not have his memories transferred over, otherwise he could see Tegin Carrotfoot going mad within a few loops.

The problem was that the war room of Anthus was incredibly cramped. It simply hadn’t been designed to accommodate this many people.

Not only were the Guzuharans’ tribal and clan leaders present, so too were ranking Republican military, Novarrian army and the top soldiers of Eldiron. The Eastern Kingdoms and drow also sent representatives and military advisors. And on top of all that… were the Blackworth Collective’s officers, King Alstatyn, Almyra, Fenton, Clyburn and Luetta Treadway. And finally, every one of Alastaia’s Gods and Goddesses who had agreed to join the planet’s defense were now physically in the material plane in the war room.

And if the room itself wasn’t crowded enough, outside the windows were the spider dragons, dragon flights and elementals.

He stepped forth and cleared a bit of space around the frustrated halfling using his brawn.

“Apologies general, please go on.”

“Thank you Mister Wainwright… though you’re the one responsible for half this mob being here…” the halfling muttered under his breath with a frown. “Ahem! Now then, we’ve gathered here to discuss our plan of action. Mister Edrosic, map please. Lord Malzim, if you would.”

Parthus Edrosic, now recovered after some rest and healing, threw a beautifully and vividly sketched map across the war table. The details were crystal clear enough that it almost felt as though Orodan was physically there. The map detailed a small vortex connected to both the material plane and the divine dimension. Specifically, it connected to the domains of Malzim and

“This, is the soul nexus of Alastaia. For us divinities of death it is something we come to learn about as we ferry souls from here and towards the afterlife.”

“I see the nexus leads to another dimension besides just the material plane and the divine domain…” Orodan muttered.

“And that would be the afterlife. A realm controlled by the ruling faction of our territory, the Hegemony. In truth, even I and the other northern Goddess of Death did not know about who our overlords were, but for long have we been aware that the actual afterlife itself was out of our reach,” Malzim explained. “While we did our duties as divines of death in helping ease the burdens of the fallen and delivering them unto the afterlife, we did not have direct control over it.”

“Something we intend to change,” Tegin spoke up, fixating on the objective. “The afterlife is important to us. But as are divines of death and having enough of them to manage the influx of deceased and beings who flow through soul nexii on a regular basis.”

“That part is particularly important,” Almyra spoke up. “Without an adequate number of divines to manage the flow of souls, a world can quickly become full of lost spirits, wraiths and other forms of undead. Lovely haunts for a lich or necromancer, not so much for the living.”

Like Narictus. No wonder the forests and wilds of the world of three moons had been so full of the supernatural. And no wonder the elves in particular had more haunted forests and spirits in the wilds of Eldiron than any other nation. They had no death divinity.

It wasn’t unsalvageable, and the world core of a planet did work to move these spirits along eventually, but it could only do so much by itself. And worse, if a world core was under the control of a ruler who didn’t care, Narictus was the end result. Full of necromancers and bloodsuckers.

“However one large problem remains. We only have two divinities of death upon Alastaia,” Tegin said, glancing towards Malzim and the Guzuharan death Goddess who was noticeably weaker than the Inuanan God of Death. “However, we need not be alone. Mister Edrosic, the globe please.”

“Damn… what am I the page?” the militia man grumbled good-naturedly even as he brought a beautiful globe out.

It was of just as fine a quality as all of Edrosic’s other works. Painted upon the wooden grains with immaculate detail which made one feel as though they were physically present. It was man-sized and even the smallest of roads were depicted at an almost particulate scale upon the wooden grain.

“As always you outdo yourself Edrosic… it feels as though I’m truly standing upon this foreign world,” Orodan spoke. “Where is this? I do not recognize it at all.”

“You would not, Mister Wainwright. Despite your interstellar travels taking you to many worlds of significance across our galaxy and beyond, you have encountered only the truly mighty. But the cosmos is large and even near to us are smaller worlds,” Eldarion spoke. “This, is a beauteous rendition of Thazrivin. It is the nearest world to us which bears an advanced civilization akin to our own. They are a single star system away in fact. A world of mage-lords, ruled by the Orastian Magocracy who have managed to secure near-total control over their world.”

“I’ve never heard of this place nor this magocracy,” Orodan said. The younger him would have detested the thought of a world ruled entirely by mages, but he had grown past such silly prejudices since. “That being said, I do hope they are not tyrants who lord their magic over others.”

“Far from it. They are a wise people whose mage-lords come from all walks of life and seek to better their world,” Destartes spoke. “It was I who made contact with them. The High-Orast is a woman of great wisdom and magical skill.”

Although as the old wizard spoke, there was no hiding the light reddening of the old man’s face.

“And they have divines of death enough to aid us? We all live with the System so their way of life cannot be too different,” Adeltaj remarked.

“Exactly so. In fact, Alastaia’s prior… difficulties in securing the aid of powerful elementals are due to the Magocracy monopolizing them first. Not intentionally, but by virtue of having mages whose mana pools and command over the elements are superior to ours,” Destartes replied. “But they are not unfriendly. They showed me great respect and even empathized with our cause and have agreed to an alliance if it means mutual benefit. They have agreed to join us on the assault of the Hegemony’s soul nexii.”

The Hegemony, like any other faction of cosmic significance, had consolidated control over the flow of souls entering and leaving the afterlife within its territories. Unlike the Ascendent Sword Cluster of the cultivators who had a singular soul nexus which they entirely controlled and an associated afterlife, the Hegemony instead had it set up so that the flow of souls from all the soul nexii of its subservient territories would enter an afterlife controlled by them.

According to the briefing notes scattered upon the war table, this tributary system allowed for souls to flow from subservient worlds and towards the Hegemony, but choice ones would be kept and offered generous benefits for remaining within the prime worlds of theirs as reincarnators. This not only made it easier for them to pick out promising souls from the nexii of other worlds, but also let them grow their power as they picked out the most talented individuals among the deceased and had them reincarnate on their terms.

Personally, Orodan didn’t see anything overly nefarious about this. It seemed a bit opportunistic and business-like, to the point that Esgarius of Trumbetton would certainly approve, but nothing wicked. Of course, the fact that he hated the Hegemony and wanted all of its leaders dead for what they’d done to Zaessythra was a different matter. They were his enemies for different reasons entirely.

“Then are we to meet with this Magocracy before we commit to an assault?” King Alstatyn asked. “Our fleets of the Collective can certainly lend aid in helping your forces appear stronger. Magically inclined as these mages might be, I doubt they hold a candle to the might of the Blackworth’s fleets.”

“In truth, your Majesty… the Orastians do not wish to meet us first at all. They want us to directly assail the local soul nexus alongside them before we engage in any further diplomatic talks,” Destartes spoke. The old wizard had been the main point of contact between this magocracy and Alastaia.

“What manner of diplomacy is this? It’s ugh… of course…” Adeltaj said as he saw the excited grin upon Orodan’s face.

“Amazing… and here I thought diplomacy would be boring. You mean to tell me that these mages wish to fight alongside us to get our measure?” he asked, elated. “I believe we’ll get along splendidly!”

“Of course you would say that…” Tegin muttered. “In any case, as master Destartes has said, the Orastians are waiting for us to launch an assault upon the nexus before they commit to any alliance. They mean to test our strength and evaluate the story of the time loops we have told them.”

“And what better way to see that then seeing for themselves where Alastaia and its allies stand.”

Though, Orodan felt that it would be a little overkill for his world, another nearby planet, and the forces of the Blackworth Collective to gang up on the Hegemony. But really, it would be a good bonding exercise and would get one potential troublemaking faction out of the way.

After all, in a week, the Embodiers and Administrator on his tail would be coming for Alastaia.

And before that he needed to finalize his plans for the resurrection of Zaessythra, bring together his understanding of soul weave in the hopes of replicating his old Action Increases and iron out the details of something he, Ozgaric and Talricto had been working on over the past five loops in the hopes of making Alastaia’s loyal divinities a force to be reckoned with.

The defense of Alastaia was fast approaching, and with it…

…a mad goal to change the very nature of the loops themselves.