Chapter One Hundred Seventy-Two: ‘Thine ambition, grasp firmly...’

Royo Raju frowned tiredly. He didn’t know what to do now.

Frankly, when he’d been teleported into that chamber with Hector and a giant worm, seeing them both seconds away from crushing him like an insect, Royo had not wanted any part of it. Fighting human opponents was one thing. Even superhumans, he could deal with. But a damn worm, too?

He had lived in the Undercrust all his life. He knew only too well what those abominations were capable of.

So he had fled. He had used the Pendant of Unso and gotten the hell out of there. It was one of the wiser decisions he’d made lately, Royo felt. He had hoped that the worm would eliminate the Senmurai for him, especially considering the worm wasn’t an actual competitor in the tournament, meaning that Royo would win by default as the last man standing. In theory, anyway. He wasn’t sure if Malast would have made him fight the worm anyway, but presumably not, if the Idle God genuinely did want a successor for Secho.

Not that it mattered now, of course.

He and everyone else had witnessed Hector’s battle, thanks to Malast--or rather, thanks to the Staff of Unso.

An artifact, according to the Piercing Eye, which was capable of creating traversable rifts in space when used in conjunction with Heartstone. Created 1,348 years ago by Unso.

What Heartstone was, Royo had yet to work out, nor did it seem as though he would know anytime soon.

Fatigue had reared its ugly head after that reading. Certainly, the battle with Seyos had been exhausting, but this was beyond merely that. It was a side effect of using the Piercing Eye so much, he was convinced.

So he had stopped using it, despite very much wanting to. He had managed to catch a glimpse of the absolute abyss of information that was sitting right there in front of him, in the form of the Idle God.

Royo didn’t know what would happen if he tried to wade into that territory. If he didn’t already feel on the verge of passing out, he might have been more tempted to try it.

And so, here he now was, sitting on the ground and trying to recuperate--or at least think of some sort of plan, maybe--while he observed the Senmurai finishing off that monster.

He could hear the one called Zeff laughing faintly. “Impossible,” the man was saying, sounding equal parts amused and incredulous.

Only minutes ago, the man had been shouting at Malast--and even threatening and grabbing him by the neck. He didn’t seem to understand or perhaps even care that he was speaking to a god.

Malast had only sat there, however, telling him that it wouldn’t be fair to let him join the tournament this late, even though he would make a suitable vessel for Secho.

The one called Zeff had seemed as though he were about to become violent, until suddenly, the Senmurai started winning.

It was so profoundly unfair.

Confident as he was in himself, Royo didn’t think he was a match for the Senmurai. Certainly not now. Not after what he’d just seen.

Such was the essence of life. Unfairness. That was a lesson he had somehow refused to learn as a child, despite being confronted with all the evidence in the world.

Even now, a part of him still wanted to refuse. It didn’t care how impossible the feat was or how drained he felt or even how close to dying he’d come on several occasions now.

That part of him was telling him that, sure, maybe he couldn’t beat the Senmurai, but maybe he could still outwit him. Maybe the Senmurai didn’t have what it took to be truly merciless in this tournament. Maybe he could just refuse to surrender, to force the Senmurai to make a choice of either killing him in cold blood or losing the tournament.

That was the one rule that Malast had specified, after all. Victory was achieved when one’s opponent either died or surrendered.

It was a foolish plan, to be sure, but that part of him was telling Royo to try it, anyway. To be bold and unrelenting. To be himself.

But there were at least two major problems with that plan that Royo could think of. The first was, of course, what if Hector really did just kill him? While it was true that Royo’s instinct was telling him that the young surface-dweller wouldn’t be able to do it, he also didn’t really know him well enough to gamble with his own life so confidently.

The second problem was that--even if Royo’s instinct was correct and Hector couldn’t bring himself to kill him--the choice was a false dichotomy. Hector wouldn’t actually HAVE to surrender to Royo. The fight could simply become an indefinite stalemate.

And the Senmurai was immortal, while Royo was not.

If Hector really wanted to, he could just wait Royo out, even if it took years. More likely, though, it would only take until Royo starved to death in this godforsaken place.

So, yes. Royo could no longer see a realistic path to victory in this game they were playing.

“Well?” came the voice of the Idle God. “Hidden One? Are you going to fight the Iron One or not? I may be the most patient being in all of Creation, but if you plan on surrendering, then there’s no need to draw things out.”

Royo was having a hard time just keeping his eyes open. Every muscle in his body ached. The cut on his chest that he’d received from Seyos was just an extra helping of pain, as was the freezing burn that he’d received accidentally from the one called Zeff a couple days ago. And really, he just wanted to go to sleep. To let his weary mind rest.

He had about a thousand reasons to surrender, right now. It would’ve been so easy.

And yet, he couldn’t bring himself to say the words.

Instead, he was thinking that this game was all wrong. Surely, if there was no means by which a player could achieve the proposed objective, then that was no game at all, was it? It was a foregone conclusion. Rigged.

He’d encountered games like this before. Hell, he’d helped make a few of them. So he knew that there was really only one thing, besides surrendering, that players could do when they found themselves besieged from all angles like this.

Change the game.

Everyone was staring at Royo now, waiting for his response

Royo kept his gaze locked on Malast as he chose his next words very carefully. “...What will you do if the Iron One, as you call him, actually wins this tournament?”

“What do you mean?” said Malast. “I’ll give him Secho’s remains, as I said I would.”

“...And what if he accepts Secho’s remains, but decides not to use them?” said Royo.

Malast made no response.

“What if he elects not to become a god,” said Royo. “What will you do, then?”

“That wouldn’t make any sense,” said Malast, though he sounded uncertain. “He could have surrendered at any time. Why would he have fought so hard in this tournament, if he didn’t wish to win?”

“He does wish to win,” said Royo. “He simply does not want the prize. At least, not to use.”

“What does he want it for, then?”

“He wants to keep it so that none may use it,” said Royo. He didn’t actually know that, of course, but as long as it supported his cause and sounded convincing, then it didn’t matter whether it was true or not. As long as he said it with complete and utter confidence, then maybe Malast would believe it. “His goal is not to harness the power you are offering. His goal is to prevent anyone else from harnessing that power for evil--or what he views as evil, at least.”

Malast smacked his lips but didn’t say anything.

“Ask him yourself, if you want,” said Royo, in truth hoping that Malast wouldn’t do that. Perhaps this wasn’t the time for such a simple trick as reverse psychology, but he did have something to follow it up with. “Just don’t expect him to tell you the truth. Obviously, he would not want you to realize that he has no intention of doing as you want him to.”

The one called Zeff intervened. “What the hell are you talking about? What is all this nonsense about becoming a god?”

This was precisely what Royo didn’t need, right now. Why couldn’t this problematic fool have just stayed where he was back in Himmekel? Royo didn’t even know how the hell the one called Zeff had managed to get here.

“I thought you already knew all about that,” said Malast. “That’s what this whole tournament is for. Wasn’t that why you wanted to join?”

“I didn’t want to join your moronic tournament!” said Zeff. “I just want my people back! Either bring Hector here now or take me to him so that I can bring him back myself!”

“The tournament isn’t over yet.” Malast’s eyes returned to Royo. “Or is it?”

Royo grimaced. There was no good way to answer that question directly. So he avoided it. “You must know by now that I will use your gift. I will not let it go to waste. Your friend Secho would be reborn with me, absolutely.”

And Royo saw Malast hesitate.

The one called Elise chimed in. “Why don’t you just admit that you’re too scared to fight Lord Darksteel and surrender?” she said.

What an obnoxious woman--and made all the more so, because he knew that she wasn’t wrong.

He didn’t have the energy to argue with her, though. What would be the point? To keep up appearances? Everyone present must have been able to tell that he was an exhausted wreck.

Besides, it didn’t matter. He wouldn’t achieve victory here by winning her over. Or any of these other interlopers, either. They were inconsequential. It was only Malast whom he needed to convince.

And judging from the Idle God’s expression and sudden quietude, Royo felt like that might just be possible, after all. Malast probably didn’t care one iota about any of these people or their opinions. Malast only wanted his friend back.

“Do you truly wish to see Secho again, or do you not?” said Royo.

“Ugh, you’re not really listening to this, are you?” said the surface-woman. “He is obviously just--”

“Be silent,” said Malast, with familiar force.

And she was. Her mouth continued to open, but no words came out.

The one called Zeff grabbed Malast by the throat. “What have you done to her?!” he roared.

“Begone with you.” The Staff of Unso shined in Malast’s hand.

And the one called Zeff vanished into thin air along with his ghost.

Royo blinked, thinking for a second that Malast had just annihilated the two of them. But then he saw them appear in the viewing window, alongside the Senmurai, whose body language suggested that he was quite surprised to see them.

Silence fell as no one else dared speak.

Even Royo was hesitant.

At length, Malast finally asked him something. “...Why would the Iron One believe that you would abuse Secho’s power?”

A dangerous question, that one. “Because he is mistaken,” said Royo, hoping that wasn’t a foolish thing to say. Perhaps that could be helped with a qualifying follow up. “But of course, I cannot read his mind and know his reasoning with complete certainty. Perhaps he merely thinks that none should wield such power.”

Malast sighed that familiar sigh of his. “Well, he wouldn’t be the first.”

Madly and impulsively, Royo wanted to say that Malast should simply ask Hector himself, but he was fortunately able to stop himself. No good would come of bringing Hector into this conversation, he felt.

“I think I’ll ask him,” said Malast.

It took everything Royo had not to scowl as he watched Hector and his ghost vanish from the viewing window and reappear in front of Malast.

Goddammit.

The Senmurai noticed Royo there immediately, and the two exchanged looks.

“Eleyo,” came the surface-dweller’s armor-tinged voice. “Are you okay? You don’t look so good...”

The answer to that, of course, was no. He felt like he might collapse if he lost focus for even a moment, but that was neither here nor there.

Even now, the Senmurai was making metal hover around himself, as if to intimidate Royo, as if to imply that he wasn’t even tired after that grueling fight that everyone had just witnessed.

These damn supermen...

“Iron One,” interrupted Malast. “Why do you wish to become a god?”

The question seemed to surprise him. “Uh... I don’t.”

Malast looked over at Royo.

Yes. That was the ideal answer.

“Then why did you apparently risk your life fighting that worm?” said Malast.

There came a long period of silence.

Then Hector finally said, “...Wait, what? I could’ve surrendered against it?”

Malast blinked dully at him. “Of course you could have. Are you stupid?”

“Hey, I... What? The last time I checked, none of the contestants were giant slime monsters. I didn’t think that qualified as a proper match or whatever. I thought--agh... I--just... agh...”

“Mm. So in other words, you were fighting for your life, not to win the tournament.”

“Yes! But wait a second! Are you really saying you would’ve teleported us out of there, if we’d asked you to?!”

“Of course I would have.”

“What?! Why?!”

“What do you mean, why?”

“I thought you didn’t care!” said Hector. “You kept on telling us about how much you don’t care about anything, so I thought Garovel and I were just screwed!”

“Ah... hmm.” Malast scratched his chin thoughtfully. “Well, I can understand why you would think that, but still, you could have at least asked, no? It would have been in perfect accordance with the rule I established before the tournament. And I mean, c’mon. I’m not entirely without empathy.”

“Oh yeah? Is that why you forced everyone into a tournament without even asking us if we wanted to participate first?”

“What need was there to ask?” said Malast. “If you didn’t want to participate, you could have just surrendered in the first round.”

“Malast.” The Senmurai broke for a groan of exasperation. “It’s not that simple. Some of these people are my allies, you know. Friends. But others--we barely even know each other. And not to mention, we have completely different levels of strength, too. Pitting us against each other made no sense...”

“Sure it did,” said Malast, though he offered no counterargument.

“It was also kind of cruel,” Hector added.

“What? Cruel? I don’t see how.”

“It was really dangerous and confusing!” The Senmurai was looking around now. “Is everybody okay, by the way?!”

There were a few words of acknowledgment thrown out from everyone else.

“The only casualty in the tournament was that of Seyos,” said Malast.

Hector paused. “So it was dangerous and someone did die.”

“Ah... well... yes.”

Royo wasn’t sure what was happening. Why did it suddenly sound like the Senmurai was winning this argument? And why did the Idle God sound like a child being scolded?

“You see?” said Hector. “Just because you have the power to do things like that to people, doesn’t mean you should. Especially not without asking their permission first. I mean, you’re a god, aren’t you? Have a sense of responsibility or something!”

“I... I do have a sense of responsibility...”

Rather than responding, the Senmurai just stared at him, waiting for elaboration.

“I--” Malast looked over his audience. “Ugh. Why do you think I never intervene in the affairs of your kind? Despite constantly being asked to, no less? It’s because I have a responsibility to let you be the makers of your own fate.”

“...Is that really true?” The Senmurai probably could not have sounded more doubtful if he tried.

“Yeah,” added the one called Diego. He was sitting cross-legged on the ground with his ghost in his lap. “Seems like you intervened pretty hard with this little tournament of yours.”

“You, return to silence,” said Malast.

And again, the one called Diego found himself unable to speak.

“Was that really necessary?” said Hector.

“I find that one’s voice particularly irritating for some reason.”

Hector folded his armored arms. “He’s not wrong, though. You did intervene in our affairs, didn’t you?”

Malast’s expression twitched. “That’s. Because. Secho. Secho is an exception.”

“Why?”

“Because!” said Malast with uncharacteristic fervor. “I told you before! He is my only friend! The only thing I have ever liked!”

“Okay,” allowed Hector. “But then, doesn’t that mean that the real reason you don’t intervene in our affairs is just because you don’t feel like it? Because we don’t interest you? I mean, you are the God of Boredom, after all.”

“I... well... that’s... true, but...”

“I mean, you can rationalize it all you want, but you can’t honestly say that you have a sense of responsibility if you’re really just doing what you feel like doing.”

And Malast appeared to be lost for words.

This was getting out of hand, Royo felt. He had no idea what the Senmurai’s game here was, but it didn’t seem like a good idea to just let it go unchecked.

He would have to challenge Hector himself, if there was to be any hope of rescuing Malast from him.

“Senmurai,” said Royo, gaining everyone’s attention. There was no point in pulling his punches. He needed to turn the conversation into favorable territory. “If Malast gives you the Urn of Growth, will you use it to merge with Secho’s remains? Or will you simply take it and do nothing with it?”

“Ah...”

Good. That seemed to have removed some of that momentum.

“Why are you asking?” said Hector.

An easy question to answer. “Because it is highly relevant to achieving a desirable resolution from our current circumstances. Malast wants nothing more than his friend to return to him.” He spared the Idle God a pitying glance. “Now, perhaps the manner in which he has gone about it... has been less than ideal, but he never claimed to be a perfect being, despite whatever biases you and I may possess toward the term ‘god.’”

“...If that’s really all he wants,” said Hector, “then why hasn’t he done it by now?” He looked toward Malast again. “How many years have you been down here, holding onto that thing?”

Malast bobbed his head, having regained some composure, apparently. “...It has been quite a long time, I suppose. But then again, time is not time.”

“Oh, please, no,” said the Senmurai. “Don’t even start with that shit...”

“Bearers of the Supreme Will are quite rare,” said Malast. “And on top of that, finding one who is agreeable makes the task even more difficult. I tried in the past to find a suitable vessel for Secho, but to no avail.”

“...Did you really try that hard?” said Hector. “Are you sure you didn’t just get bored and lazy?”

“I... that’s...” Malast grit his teeth, and then added force to his next words. “Be silent.”

“...No,” was all Hector said, unfazed.

“Agh... Supreme-Will-having bastard...” He broke for a familiar sigh. “Look. The point is, I had just about given up hope of ever seeing my friend reborn when Ettol finally arrived and said that he would help me out.”

That piqued Royo’s interest--and the Senmurai’s, by the look of it.

Royo spoke up first, however. “Why did Ettol decide to help you?”

“I don’t know,” said Malast. “That guy never explains himself. And I honestly thought he was full of crap, until the three of you showed up.”

“Three?” said Hector.

“Three suitable vessels. You, the Hidden One, and the Angry One.”

Royo didn’t need to ask. He had a pretty good idea of who the Angry One was. And Malast was probably right to think that the one called Zeff would not be very agreeable to his offer. Not in these circumstances, at least.

“Hmm,” hummed Hector. “How did Secho die, anyway?”

Malast paused at that, shifting somewhat in his tall stone chair. “The Void rended him from existence.”

Royo felt the air grow abruptly more tense when Malast said that, almost as if the Idle God’s sheer animosity had been made physical.

A curious sensation, Royo thought.

“The Void?” said Hector while Royo was distracted. “You’re telling me the Void is real, too?”

Malast seemed confused by that question. “Real? Of course not. How could the Void be real? The Void is all that is not. Non-existence cannot be real.”

“...Excuse me?”

Royo didn’t quite follow that, either.

“Whatever,” said Malast. “I’m not good at explaining things, okay? Can we just get back to resurrecting Secho, please? I’d like to get a nap in later, and this annoying conversation is really eating into my me time.”

Royo saw the opening and took it. “It should be clear by now that I am your only reliable option. You must know beyond doubt that I will absolutely revive Secho for you.”

“Hold on--” tried Hector.

“No, he’s right,” said Malast. “He is far more agreeable than you are, Iron One.”

Yes! But Royo kept his weary eyes on Hector, wary of becoming too hopeful.

“Do you think the Hidden One will abuse Secho’s power?” said Malast.

And to Royo’s surprise, Hector did not immediately say yes.

Instead, the Senmurai hesitated. “I... ah...”

Royo was confused to see such apparent meekness from him, but he didn’t let the opportunity escape. “You needn’t worry. I give you my word that I will not abuse Secho’s power.”

Malast regarded Royo with a flat look. “Maybe you will, maybe you won’t. But if that is the Iron One’s concern, then I can understand it. And though the tournament seems to have reached a premature end, I believe it is obvious enough that the Iron One would have been the victor.”

Royo wished he could’ve argued with that, but he could imagine that if he did, Malast would call his bluff and force them to go fight. And that was precisely what Royo had been trying to avoid this whole time.

“As such,” the Idle God went on, “since I will be giving his prize to another, the Iron One deserves a different prize. A prize which may one day serve to check yours, Hidden One, should you ever decide to misuse it.”

Royo Raju exchanged looks with the Senmurai.

They said nothing. It felt as if they didn’t need to.

For his part, Royo sensed a kind of silent understanding between them.

A prize to check his own.

Royo wasn’t in love with the idea, but he doubted he would ever get a better offer. And though he didn’t know what was going through the Senmurai’s head right now, he had a feeling that Hector felt the same way.

But it felt like more than that, too. Somehow.

He had never put much stock in prophecies, but he was a believer in destiny. He had never thought that mere mortals could--or even should--see what awaited them in the future. Destiny was important and meaningful, but spending one’s time trying to predict it was folly, he felt.

Yet now, he did not know how else to explain this feeling. Perhaps it was because there were more than just “mere mortals” present. Whatever the case, it made him feel as if his destiny was being inextricably bound to this person. As if, one day, the Senmurai would become either his greatest ally or greatest foe.

He wondered if the Senmurai was feeling similarly in this moment. He almost considered using the Piercing Eye to try to find out.

Then, after the moment passed, the Idle God, He Who Sits, did something that no one was expecting him to do.

He stood.

“Alright,” said Malast as he walked over to the Senmurai, “let’s see here...” He reached out with one hand.

The Senmurai, rather understandably, recoiled away from him.

Malast took notice and paused there. “Fear not. I will do you no harm. Allow me to place my hand upon you.”

And with reluctance that was visible in his body language, the Senmurai did so. “W-what are you going to do?” he asked as the Idle God’s hand found the pate of his helmet.

Malast ignored the question in favor of a long period of silence, instead. “Mm... yes... I see. As I thought. You possess the blessing of Focus.”

“What?” said Hector.

“Granted to you, I presume, by that ‘Rasalased’ you mentioned before. Your prize, then, shall be a second blessing to complement that one. I shall grant you Domain.”

“Uh... er, what does that do?”

Malast spared Royo a sidelong glance. “I do not think I would be doing you any favors by explaining its workings in front of the Hidden One.” He allowed a beat to pass. “Also, I hate explaining things. I’m no good at it. I’m sure you’ll figure it out on your own. You’ll have to be patient, though. Like your first blessing, and like Secho’s power, it will require time to grow.”

“Ah, um, okay...”

There was another long period of silence.

“...Hmm,” said Malast.

“Uh,” said Hector. “Everything going okay up there?”

“Oh, sure. Of course. Sorry. It’s just. I’ve only ever granted a blessing once before. It’s a little weirder than I remember. Probably because you already have one. It’s fine, though. Don’t worry.”

“...Are you sure? Because you sound a little worried, yourself.”

“I said it’s fine. I’ve got this. I mean, it might start to hurt here in a little bit, but that’s how you’ll know it’s working.”

“Wait, what?”

“Uh-oh.”

“What?! What does uh-oh mean?!”

“No, it’s fine. Might want to brace yourself, though.”

“For what?! I don’t--!”

The Senmurai’s armor exploded, and Hector went flying backward, all the way to the other side of the chamber, and slammed against the wall. He wasn’t dead, though, judging from the screams of agony that were coming out of him.

A few items had fallen out of his obliterated armor and landed at Malast’s feet.

“Oh, you dropped some things.” The Idle God bent down to pick them up, bundling them adjacent the Urn of Growth in his other hand.

Hector was apparently too busy enduring pure hell to respond, however.

Malast gave a nod. “I’ll just hold onto them for you, I guess...” Then his gaze turned toward Royo.

Suddenly, Royo wasn’t so sure that he wanted to become a god, anymore.