Chapter 229

The Legend Begins (IX)

Eldur stood on top of the extended balcony overlooking the sprawling city beyond the Palace’s walls. The grandeur had vanished in lieu of blasting smoke and raging fires. The scent of blood was permeating, reaching as far as the balcony itself, and the ever-increasing number of corpses were easily identifiable even from this far away.

His expression, however, didn’t betray an iota of emotion. It remained closed and appeared stoic, as though the sight before him was nothing new.

“It’s ready,” an old and hoarse voice drew his attention away from the city and onto the old man that appeared out of nowhere, standing by his side. “At last.”

“... what’s the story here, Mael?” Eldur asked abruptly.

“Huh?”

“I thought I knew it,” Eldur said. “My rise would be challenged by heroes. It’s always like that. They’d storm my gates, and we’d eventually have one, final clash. But... something is... off. It’s like the story being written is relegating me sideways.”

“... you truly are mad to even attempt to reason the Tower’s ways,” Mael laughed oddly; the laughter was rather grating, over-the-top, and belonged in a horror show more so than any other reality. “The story is never written, boy. It’s being written, all the time.”

“...”

“Perchance, once you were supposed to be the central shine,” Mael elaborated. “Mantle that cape. But variables... variables are infinite. Arrival of the Awoken, that new group of Conquerors, failing to assassinate the siblings, appearance of the moon nutties... all these things throw wrenches into the story, so the Tower... the Tower writes a new one. And another one. And another one. Of the tens of thousands of stories, all of which differ by one, minute detail... only one eventually gets to see the light of day. You’ve yet to see your role, boy. For now... just sit and wait.”

“Doesn’t it frustrate you?” Eldur asked, clenching his fingers into a fist. “How little control over our lives we have?”

“... no,” Mael replied crustily. “Because I’m not a newborn babe experiencing the Crucible for the first time.”

“...”

“Let this be a lifetime lesson for you, boy,” the old man said with a scoff. “You have this one, solitary cycle-- one chance to learn as much as possible, and to figure out the furthest you’ll ever reach. Don’t toss it away thinking of the unthinkable, and trying to unravel that which cannot be unraveled. The Towers are beyond either of our scopes, they’re beyond any one’s scope save for the First itself. Instead of feeling frustration, feel gratitude toward the chance you’ve been given, a chance most never get. Your task is done; as promised, here is your reward,” Mael suddenly withdrew a three-foot-long blade from his dimensional pocket, tossing it at Eldur who finally had a change in expression, showcasing excitement.

The sword appeared cast of emerald-dyed ores, its blade alight with a glint of gold, appearing beyond sharp. A ruby-laden skull decorated the symmetrical guard, the gems shimmering faintly, and the entire sword exuded eerie and harrowing aura of death.

“Cursed Blade of Ang’amar... it’s actually real...”

“Good luck, boy,” Mael said as the shadows began to warp around him. “Perchance, we meet again in the distant future.”

Mael vanished through the Shadow Gates, boring through a lengthy spatial tunnel leading directly to the Lunar Stone. However, just as he breached to the other side, alarms rang out inside his mind as he swiftly dissipated into shadows, appearing good hundred yards off his initial position. Glancing there, he saw infernal arms of hell itself warping space time until the latter collapsed unto itself.

Shifting his gaze further to the side, he saw a cloaked, caped, and masked figure standing next to the stone, one of the figure’s hands gently tracing over the stone’s surface. What startled Mael wasn’t that there was someone there... but that it was a Conqueror-- an Awoken Conqueror with Mana beyond what should be physically possible to achieve at this point. An insufferable blade of flames orbited the man’s figure, like an arbiter of destiny, shining in resplendent colors of pure, entirely Mana-charged fire.

“... ah, to think the boy’s right,” Mael wiped the corners of his lips from the surging blood, shifting his displaced organs back into their place. “The Tower and its ever-evolving stories... truly mystify. Greetings, Conqueror.”

“The power-behind-the-power, I’m guessing?” Mael realized it was a man, as the latter asked in a dry and boorish tone, tilting his head slightly.

“...”

“The sudden quest update startled me,” the man continued. “I was dead-certain the last boss would be Eldur. Looks like others will have to deal with the King.”

“... you... are here alone?” Mael quizzed with a ludicrous expression, staring at the man in front of him as though he were the dumbest creature that had ever graced the world.

“Well, not alone alone,” the man replied with a chuckle. “There’s all these voices in my head.”

“...”

“Ah, and I also have a cat,” the man said; a mere moment later, dark-laden shadow leaped out of seemingly nowhere and landed onto the man’s shoulder.

“Te’gha is not a cat, dumb Cain!!! Te’gha is a Tiger! A grand Tiger!!”

“...” Primordial Tiger!! Mael’s eyes widened as he recognized the silver markings on the black-furred surface. There was no mistaking it-- they were the ones only Primordial lineage could bear. His dropped ground went straight back up; the man was not as simple as he appeared.

“Ey, look at us, finally on first-name basis,” the man said, petting the tiger. Aghast, Mael nearly flipped and ran away, but noticing the distinct lack of ravaging and limb-tearing, he stared dumbly at the scene that would likely shock the entire world beyond worlds if it was seen-- a direct descendant of a Primordial bloodline, a tiger no less, was letting itself be petted like a common kitten. “Soon enough, our bond shall grow so strong we’ll be able to piss in front of each other and it won’t be awkward! I think. Maybe. I was always told that eventually happens, but it was never not weird seeing Em’ pee. Granted, my boner didn’t help--wait, there’s nobody here who gets that joke. Ey, old guy, can you play a straight man to my joke?”

“H-huh?”

“Eh, good enough I guess,” the man shrugged. “You finally gonna help me fight or did you just come out to correct me?”

“It is below Te’gha to fight---”

“Ah, so you’re scared. That’s cool.”

“I---Te’gha not scared! You scared, dumb Cain! Dumb, dumb, dumb Cain! I hate you!” Cain shuddered as Te’gha vanished back into his inventory, leaving him gobsmacked for a moment. Shit, am I raising a really, really, really annoying archetype?! Fuck, I need to find some time to school the damn thing...

“...”

“... khm,” breaking the awkward silence between the two, Cain walked up to the stone and dug his fingers into the tiny bores across its surface. The stone was good eight-nine feet tall, thick and round at the bottom, thinning out toward the top like a spearhead. Its surface appeared sheared, coated in luminescent trails of cyan across its dotted, silver-lined surface. Numerous cracks and chinks extended across its jagged and uneven surface, but all of this was for the show-- the actual stone was within this rigid mountain, and it likely wasn’t even larger than an average man’s head. “Was it you? Or Eldur?”

“Hm?”

“It can’t have been the King,” Cain said. “He never struck me as that clever. I’m just wondering why you needed the Lunar Children as I suspect their part in the story is yet to unfold.”

“...” Mael frowned, but remained silent, carefully preparing for a fight. It was unavoidable, he knew; even if he found it extremely strange and even stupid that a single Conqueror has appeared to challenge him, it was best if he took care of it swiftly and cleanly rather than ponder over the whys.

“Ah, it’s for the extracting purposes,” the man said with a chuckle. “Since the cult would treat the stone as sacred, you could take the actual stone and likely the Vein itself while leaving them with the shell that they would worship blindly. Clever.”

“... who are you?” Mael’s frown deepened further as he asked alarmingly. The man... knew too much about the stone. Far too much.

“Just a dad trying to navigate the ever-difficult waters of raising a new generation into the ever-changing world. By day, I mean. By night, I am darkness, I am fire, I am--ah, it’s no fun when there’s nobody physically cringing at my stupidity. Anyway, looks like the story’s begun,” the man said, glancing toward the distant tower that was the heart of the Kingdom’s Palace. “Unfortunately, you and I were relegated to the sidelines. Kinda crappy thing to do, to be honest. But...” he added, turning toward Mael, the playful eyes turning frigid instantaneously. “They need to be heroes, again. They need a reminder. As for us... well. There ain’t much old monsters like you and I need. Except, perhaps, a lesson in humility.”