The Northern Everfrost.

A region of the world that stifled many a settler attempting to inhabit its godforsaken lands, leaving it the only place bereft of the telltale marks of civilization. It was a cold, inhospitable continent, with innumerable fields of ice and snow that stretched as far as the eye could see.

As the point of convergence for the world’s ice-attuned mana, the icebergs around here average kilometers in diameter and boast strength and durability far higher than that of steel, making them magical materials in their own right.

It was in this desolate place, upon a gargantuan sheet of ice tucked away in some hidden corner of the ocean that an opulent tower of gold, fitted with all manner of wards and enchantments, stood. Even after centuries, its surface remained unblemished, seemingly untouched by neither the frost nor howling winds.

To any onlooker, the view could only be described as otherworldly, and, perhaps unknowingly, they would be right.

However, that would be an impossible observation to make. To say nothing about how anyone in their right mind would venture to these wretched wastes, even if some madman were to stand right in front of the tower they would believe there to be nothing here at all.

The magic here was subtle, though potent in its ability to ward off any would-be intruders. There exists only one being in the world other than its inhabitant that knows it even exists, though that too was intentional.

The only visitors to the place would be the occasional passing animals, though even these creatures do not stay long. Despite the land the iceberg takes up, birds fly by without roosting and fish instinctively avoid the area.

In spite of the chilling winds outside, a window at the peak of the tower was open. Within its highest chamber sits a small, hunchbacked old man in loose-fitting robes. It was a simple golden cloth, nothing special. There was no reason to dress opulently all alone. His slouched posture belied no sign of discomfort, though that was to be expected.

If one were to stand inside the room with the man, one might assume that the reason for this would be that the inside was mild. Not too hot and not too cold, a perfectly comfortable environment for the average human.

It was magically tuned to a temperature that would be pleasant for most people, but that was not the reason the only inhabitant was content. He had long outgrown the point where a little cold could bother him.

However, that was not to say that the mild temperature was not soothing in some capacity. This environment was tailored towards the aesthetics of mortal humans out of a sense of nostalgia for the past.

He was old. His age brought him power, but also weakness.

Now, he sits unperturbed, eyes wandering lazily about the room, looking at nothing in particular. At certain moments those cold eyes would glaze over, as though looking deep within himself rather than at his surroundings.

Silently, he sifts through memories of his life. Haphazardly browsing the [Soul Archive] he’d created back when he was about 50, his attention was put on the path that brought him where he was now. Looking at his earlier works with the knowledge gained after thousands of years of progress, he saw just how much he had improved.

He could critique his past blunders for years, but even in those moments, he could see a spark there. A spark that would become a passion that blazed and burned even to this day.

One particularly telling example was the [Soul Archive] itself. It was a patchwork mess when it was first made, but it served its purpose well. That it was still storing the wealth of knowledge he’d accumulated over the years was enough to give his past self praise. He had laid the foundation well for it to be able to accommodate such improvements over time.

Sure, it had been retooled to fit a new niche where its original purpose had become obsolete, but that was the case with pretty much every skill of his. Every part of him was alive, after all. What mattered was that, while obsolete, it still retained its original functionalities.

Analyzing the memories, the [Soul Archive] truly was a curious creation. It was a wonder that he was even able to make it without doing irreparable damage to his outer soul. He had ruthlessly experimented with it to create it, after all. Of course, he had plenty of practice with others that shared a close enough likeness to him, but he was certain his technique hadn’t been polished sufficiently to proceed with a procedure like that.

Perhaps his callousness and general deviance were sequelae of this, but it had already been so long that they have already become an integral part of his character. He was able to reach this height thanks in no small part to his deviancy, so there was no compelling reason to change it.

Alone atop a golden throne, he reminisced of a journey that should have long reached its conclusion, prolonged unnaturally through foul rituals and arcane spells.

The empire he was born into has long lost itself to the pages of history. The people he once had ties to had long passed as well. His life, thusly, could be summarized as a story of connections made and connections broken as he jumped from world to world.

With a long and arduous chapter drawing to a close, Eldridge considered what his path truly meant to him.

This was a thought that came to him increasingly often as he approached this point.

He was alone now.

Alone to stew silently with his thoughts, without anyone else to help ground himself to reality. Ground him to his emotions. And, perhaps most of all, ground him to his sanity.

Though he would never admit that. His mind was perfectly fine. It scored highly in every metric he could come up with.

But the memories of the people he met, of the friendships and comradery fostered during his travels were as clear as an icy stream.

Time and again, fragments of those moments would replay in his mind, reminding him of better times. Simpler times. Times when it was not strange to hear him laugh or even speak.

It brought him pain to remember, but he couldn’t bring himself to wipe those memories away.

Despite this, he had no regret in outliving them all. The dream he pursued was, and still is, worth all sorrowful partings, past, present, and future. Though that was not to say that such partings hurt any less.

Perhaps this pain was why he decided to hide away in his old age. To become hyper-focused on his work and dream. To distract himself from these messy thoughts and emotions inherent to mortal kind.

Mortals. He technically was still one, not yet crossing the threshold into immortality. Despite being stronger than most beings that would call themselves gods, he still had a finite lifespan.

Though, it wasn’t like there weren’t precedents of mortals shattering the heavens and tearing deities from their lofty heights.

Heroes.

Sons of Heaven.

Protagonists.

Their names and titles ranged from world to world, but their trajectories were ultimately quite similar.

Their lives were short, but they made up for it with their potential and ambition. Great and lengthy epics could be written from their lives, compiling all their deeds that took at most a few decades to accomplish.

A time frame that might as well be in the blink of an eye for those on high.

Though for every hero of legend, countless more give up midway. It was sad to see their potential wasted as their ambition did not reach high enough, usually only amounting to finding ways to extend their pitifully short lives.

That potential was inversely proportional to age was something that was well-known across every world he’d visited.

These would-be heroes waste their talent, their age quickly catching up to their growth.

Most were not cut out to pursue true [Detachment].

That was to be expected. Without a high enough vision, longevity and strength were the obvious pursuits for all.

Worthless illusions. Bait thrown out by the world for the greedy and foolish alike.

Accordingly, ironically, methods to increase lifespan sought in this manner never last long. A few passing millennia at most and these pride of a generation too were gone, as dead as those that they trampled upon to reach their height.

Their marks in the world doomed to be transient and quickly eroded by the unceasing march of time.

Truly, death was the greatest equalizer of all.

In death, gods and heroes were equal.

In death, heroes and civilians were equal.

Though there was no afterlife to cherish that equality. What awaited beyond was only an eternal cycle of Samsara.

An eternity of reincarnation.

Of breaking and reforming.

Of breaking and reforming.

For those that do not jump out of the chess board, their fate was doomed regardless, remaining one among many who eventually waste away until nothing but the stories of their deeds remain.

Until even those are forgotten.

And though he, Arcanist Eldridge, lived on to the point where even those legends had become lost, like most other mortals, he was also a once brilliant inferno that had burned through all its fuel. Now, slowly dying out and fading away. Only embers remained of him now.

But his fire was not out yet.

Even embers could become a new inferno with sufficient kindling.

His fire would be ever burning.

He was one among an enlightened few. He saw what true [Detachment] meant. He saw a zenith, a height that even now he failed to completely fathom.

He had seen the chess board in all its dispassionate though interweaving glory. To recognize the game was the first step towards truly stepping out of it.

It was with this glimpse, this direction, that he set out to build a road leading to true eternity.

Now, with his life force teetering on the edge, and that first step towards eternity being but a few steps to being realized, the next step will be one of no return. With it, he would forever turn his back on his humanity…

Even more, than he already has.

Focusing his scattered attention, turning his lazy gaze away from the myriad of messy notes filled with magical jargon littered throughout the room, the archmage looked down at an item grasped in his long, wizened fingers.

Upon his palm laid a gilded bracelet, intricately fashioned to imitate a serpent devouring its tail. With his vision that did not rely on eyes, he could see the interlocking parts that comprised its interior. Truly, a masterwork ahead of its time.

He’d unconsciously taken it out of his space ring during his memory-drunk stupor. He had been more prone to actions like this ever since he’d split his mind one too many times. As a consequence, not every part of him was in sync, and it was too much of a hassle to forcefully hold his attention to any one thing at a time.

No. He was more efficient this way.

Upon realizing its presence a flood of memories washed over him once again. Even the scattered personalities in the isolated fringes of his soul began to relive the moment, and what that moment meant to him.

It was an artifact he crafted in his youth. Made at a time when his goal of immortality was set out of youthful ignorance. It had merely been an impossible goal he’d fancied because he had all the choices in the world. He would achieve what everyone else before him had failed. A trifling reason, but he truly had no better motivation.

After all, what were the shackles of mortality to a talented mage born to nobility?

As he proved his brilliance, again and again, peers and sycophants alike parroted the notion, shouting to the heavens that he was destined for greatness.

They rallied supporters, convincing everyone that he would take their empire to great heights, leading it to conquer in all directions and establish its rightful dominion over the entire world.

They were right, in a way. Mortal shackles did indeed prove unable to bind him. A shame none of them lived to see him become what he was today.

Especially since he was still grateful for their “selfless” contribution. From the initial funding of currency and magical material to the final funding of their very souls, their sacrifices were what set the foundation for current his success, after all.

Perhaps, to a certain degree, he could be considered “the Golden Empire”? It was a part of him, though existing in another form.

Its influence on him has been diluted over the millennia after countless rituals of a similar vein, but he still bore its mark. He was rather fond of gold, as well. Habits nurtured in youth are hard to shake, in the end.

What would they think of me now, I wonder? What would they say? Curse me, probably. Bah, I’ve gotten more than enough of those to last me several lifetimes.

Well, he certainly wouldn’t blame himself for the actions he took all those years ago. He didn't then, and he wouldn't start now. If he had the chance to redo it all, he’d walk the same path again.

Longevity seemed simple at the time, but nothing seemed to click.

Back in his homeworld, countless races were inherently long-lived. Naturally gifted races like the lithoids or elves that once bordered his birthplace could handily surpass his current lifespan by a magnitude and then some. Nor was it the case that longevity was exclusively an inborn trait, either.

Stories of humans turned vampires or lich were commonplace, though these profane transformations served more as cautionary tales than anything else. After all, despite the allure of an undying body, warnings of a blood-starved vampire or an insane and unstable lich wreaking havoc were more than enough to dissuade most sane individuals from going that route.

However, while those immortal creatures had some messy qualities, certainly they weren’t the only ones. Blessed with the standing to see a plethora of choices in front of him, he felt that it was only a matter of time before he stumbled upon one that fit his preferences.

As such, back when he was still the crown prince, he’d come to study many instances of immortality and longevity. The earliest experiment started in his teenage years, though it was executed with none of the finesse he had now. It was quite… messy during his early years.

In the end, he would discover that most immortal species were like this in some way or another. They all had at least some traits that made for a horrible template.

Dissatisfied with the results received after combing the world several times over and gaining a number of displeasing titles as a result, he sought new options. And by luck, he would find new options. Options that would lead him to the ineffably infinite multiverse.

It seemed, then, the only thing in his adolescence that equaled his pride was perhaps his luck. At the time, he believed it to be a work of providence rather than just blind luck, and perhaps that might very well be the case.

The higher he gets and the more he sees, the less he feels that things just happen out of “coincidence”. The dominoes just align too perfectly to not have had at least a little touch from a guiding hand.

Never more clearly did he feel this than when he had exhausted his options in his home world and his ‘little’ goal of immortality had become an obsession.

Stumbling upon the prerequisites for the rare [Dimension Mage] subclass, which allowed him to travel via unstable riftgates connecting to nearby worlds, had been a series of coincidences that appeared wholly intentional now that he looked at it. It came at a time when he’d needed it most as well - running afoul with the world’s guardians after a ritual was a bit too successful.

He had escaped cleanly and, with this as his trump card, he had left believing that he never really needed to forge lasting relationships and could outrage the locals however he pleased. In his ignorant mind, there would be no lasting consequences, anyways.

How foolish. Actions always had consequences. [Causality] was not a foundational Law for nothing.

It was during those adventures that he’d come to learn of the vastness of the omniverse. Of how completely some worlds’ development eclipsed his own in some fields while lagging hopelessly behind in others.

This diversity taught him to maddeningly hoard knowledge from every world, as he never knew when it could be applied. Even the most basic ones. Especially the basic ones.

Though this revelation came only after a number of blunders had been made. If there was anything he would redo, it would be to go back and properly catalog all those worlds he had failed to do so in his youth. However, he would have to give himself some credit. The tools at his disposal were but a fraction of what he had now.

That period of reckless world hopping was very, very dangerous. After centuries, his luck would eventually run out, leaving his hubris shattered. His humility was learned the hard way, though luckily not hard enough to completely break him.

It was this careless world-hopping that ultimately led him to his first encounter with a [Detached] entity, for better or worse. Not the true body, else he would not be himself right now. It was a reflection. A mere image that bore its likeness that warped his senses, his whole reality in its color.

It was in this hell that he saw the sky above the sky, the heaven above heaven. Though perhaps that entity would be better described as the abyss below the abyss. It was but a brief touch with a bringer of insanity.

That was all. That was enough.

He was very fortunate to be experienced in matters of the soul beforehand, otherwise, things would have become a lot more… unpleasant.

The pollution still exists today, though sequestered and tamed. Had it not been the case, his soul would have been irrevocably twisted into the indescribable entity’s shape.

These adventures had taught him many lessons. The least of which being that “simple” forms of true immortality were simply dead ends. Eternal life at the cost of one’s ego or at the whims of some enigmatic being whose thoughts were impossible to divine was no immortality at all.

He was unwilling to lose himself, nor did he wish to play an endless game of cat and mouse throughout the multiverse, hiding in some forgotten corner hoping no one finds him.

He experienced it once, and it only stopped once he thoroughly exterminated his pursuer and both everything and everyone associated with them.

It was a decidedly unpleasant experience that tied him down for hundreds of years, and it was something he did not wish to experience again.

Especially so if the strength and scale of the pursuer were increased by several degrees.

Over time, he would come to terms with the fact that every solution to immortality had a price to be paid. A shackle, a curse, a binding. Whatever the method, there would always be some factor that would dissuade him from using it.

If one knew how and where to look, inheritances were everywhere. After experiencing these ‘inheritances’ countless times, even a beast could recognize a pattern.

If each world had a few buried, then even if he’d missed most of them, by crossing into a new world every few years he’d have encountered hundreds after a few millennia.

While each inheritance had to potential to contain the summation of a person’s path, it would be thoughtless to simply take them. Each of them held hidden pits, just waiting for some naive fool to blindly fall into them.

Old monsters that could bury inheritances worth his while always had a backhand prepared. He would know. Not only did he have firsthand experience, but he was also one of them, after all.

Things that seemed free were never truly free. They merely cost something you cannot perceive. Consequently, these ‘free’ gifts often have the highest cost.

Without a proper understanding of the cost, one might only realize they have been robbed after they reach a higher Tier and realize something integral was missing. Perhaps when they accepted such a ‘gracious’ gift they even thanked their scammer with all their heart.

Nevertheless, despite the unfortunate twists and turns made while grasping blindly in the dark, the path ahead was eventually made clear. While not perfect, as it meant giving up a large portion of his autonomy, it certainly beat the alternatives.

It was a path wholly his own, at least. A few events did point otherwise, which made him wary, but he’d put his cognition through countless verifications and come to believe it was truly a result of his own thoughts.

A moment of inspiration, of enlightenment, that was what it would be remembered as. If he wasn’t able to convince himself of that fact he would never be able to get anywhere, so it had to be the correct answer.

The solution?

Artificing.

What he had once picked up as a passing hobby would be the door he chose to endless life.

It’s quite ironic, really. Despite all that manic searching… and those unfortunate incidents… the solution was right there… right in front of me all along.

That dream from many millenniums ago had not diminished in the slightest. In fact, with the knowledge gained, there exists a reason to fear death. Well, if one valued what he valued, anyway.

But that was all behind him. Hopefully. Now, he had confidence in his success. His eternity was at hand, and nothing would ruin this moment. The only thing now was to truly savor the experience.

It would be something truly novel, a sublimation of sublimations. To ensure that this momentous occasion went perfectly, he wanted to get his mind in order so that the next step would be done with peak performance.

That included settling all his inner demons and making peace with his past. Even the slightest modicum of hesitation had to be wiped clean before he could begin, lest he gives a chance for something to happen.

Though powerful, he was not above the world’s more subtle influences. He would not go out like some brain-dead villain whose plans were foiled out of a sudden change of heart.

He would gloat and dance upon a brilliant stage, one of the few joys he had at this point, but that was only because he was certain of his success and had prepared contingency after contingency.

Wanting to reexperience the feeling he had all those years ago, one of compulsively checking the artifact, he cast [Appraise].

Ouroboros - Token of Obsession

Equip Requirement: LVL 75

Equipment Type: Accessory

Durability: 100,000/100,000

Effects:

1: Consumes excess Mana Regen to slow everything that affects aging, in both the soul and body. Effectiveness is determined by the amount of Mana consumed.

1a: Slows leveling proportionally

1b: Wearer is less prone to change, both physically and mentally.

2: Calculate the time until natural death

Current Effect:

<1% Slowdown

320 Days until death

Crafted by an ambitious wizard utilizing his understanding of souls in a vain attempt to ward off death. While it doesn’t fulfill its objective completely, it still provides the user with a lifespan far beyond the average of their kind. Provided they use it in their youth, of course.

Through the careful study of magic, soul, and body, Eldridge developed a deep understanding of life. He was quite fortunate to find the study enthralling in and of itself, rather than just another chore to further his goal. There was just something enticing about life, in all its forms, that he just couldn’t quite get enough of.

It was through this knowledge that he was able to create this bracelet, serving as an ever-present reminder of his mortality. Back then, it was this reminder that pushed him to challenge his limits, to defy death again and again.

To stagnate was to wait for death. An adage that I held close to my chest back then, and one that has proven itself correct time and again.

It had served him well in his early days, utilizing it until most of its functions had become obsolete as his power grew and other artifacts were crafted.

Nevertheless, this one remained special because it was the first. His first success and his baby step forward in the right direction.

However, despite his best efforts to stave off aging, at over 10,000 years old, he felt himself at death’s door. Even the most masterfully crafted potions made from the most potent of ingredients across multiple worlds would not even buy him a day anymore.

From this juvenile and crippled world, he could slaughter the strongest dragon and bathe in its blood or strike down the only deity left and consume their divine essence and not even gain an hour. Of course, they were one and the same, but that was beside the point.

Though fortunately, this worked in reverse as well. Curses targeting his lifespan would have laughable results, failing to remove even a second from him, though perhaps that was because he’d just not encountered a dangerous enough [Hexer]. Even if that were the case, a being on that level acting still proved that it would take something monumental for his remaining time to move.

It was a fact he lived with for the past hundreds of years or so. He had expected it to come eventually, seeing himself get diminishing returns despite finding new methods far and wide. Being able to travel worlds and collect unique ingredients alleviated things, but there was a limit. Every race did. That was why certain milestones were celebrated with such fervor.

For humans, it seemed like every thousand years was a watershed, with each one resulting in a drastic reduction in the effectiveness of life-extending methods.

He noticed this trend early on, thanks to the ability to know his lifespan, and sectioned his timeline accordingly. However, after his lifespan had extended past the 10,000th year, there was a reduction that far exceeded his predictions and his layout beforehand had to be expedited to account for that.

As a result, he threw himself into his project with a zeal uncharacteristic of a man his age. In a mad dash to the finish line that almost exposed his plans, everything was completed with even a bit of time to spare.

The most tedious and difficult part is complete. The core is finished, and I can fully purify my soul during the ritual.

Now, just a spark to set everything off… and a catalyst to keep things going...

The souls in this world will suffice. They’re on the weaker side of things, but that’s to be expected from a world like this. I’d hoped for them to develop more in the past few centuries but those dragons were more active than I anticipated. Their patron is the only god here, after all. Maybe I should have introduced some things to put checks on their actions.

I’ll just have to foot the difference myself, then.

Eldridge rose from his chair with a slight grunt. His skeletal arms pushed him up with great difficulty before he finally steadied himself. There was a reason why most mages after level 500, or Tier 6, preferred to use either a [Levitate], [Fly] or [Teleport] spell to get around.

Eldridge counted himself among their number for quite some time, which played a not-so-small part in his now atrophied legs. Though, no amount of exercise could reverse their decay at this age.

Here, he was alone, so there was no need to save face. He could forgo this simple luxury to savor what little time he had left with a physical, human body. Though, if anything, all it did was remind him why he made his choice. Using limbs like his was cumbersome at best.

He could hear his bones pop with every step. Awkwardly trying to adopt a suitable posture, he found that every joint remained stiff, making his feeble muscles have to work extra hard.

Why did humans have to have bones instead of just fleshy tentacles?

He had been so accustomed to using mana in that shape to grasp and move around that under normal circumstances, he might as well be an octopus or squid with viewed with mana vision.

It was a strange feeling, being so vulnerable again. No longer surrounded by a dense coating of mana. He trusted himself enough to know that his tower was more than enough protection, but it was still an uncomfortable experience nonetheless.

With shaky steps, Eldridge walked over to a gaudy mirror across the room. His gait was more fitting for a senior struggling to walk down the road than an all-powerful archmage.

As a matter of fact, if he walked down the street of a crowded city without wards no one would be able to tell the difference. Well, if he put away the golden robes, of course. Though, in some worlds, that kind of fashion could be seen in certain seniors.

Looking at himself slowly, weakly approaching, with his reflection growing ever so slowly, he thought back to how he used to see himself. Gone were the days when he would carry himself with pride, the unceasing march of time eroded it all. Whether it be hubris, charm, excitement, or even warmth, an emaciated face with a long, unkempt, beard was all that was left.

Despite the relative peace in the past few centuries, red, bloodshot eyes tinged with a hint of insanity still looked back at him.

The mirror showed a ghost of a man, bearing no resemblance to the bold figure in his memory. However, though a husk of his former glory, he was not broken by time. He was tempered by his age and all the more knowledgeable for it. All of this wear was a testament to the determination that carried him through all those years.

The blank stare gave way to a bemused expression as he compared the two images closely. The one from his mind and the one in front of him. He did not feel disgusted by this transformation. Beauty and renown were something he’d willingly discarded for knowledge and wisdom, and he would do the same again now. Even if his eyes did not reflect that kind of accumulation, he knew it in his heart and saw it in his soul.

Did I grow more unhinged during my time alone? No. That’s impossible. I can recognize and control my insanity now. That was not the case then.

He’d long excised the portion of his soul containing the memory, though he still kept around the products of his delirium - several scrawlings bound within a worn tome. Despite the degradation obvious on the tome’s yellowed cover and pages, it was treasured and well-maintained. The damage was simply unavoidable. Even an artifact carefully hand-crafted by him was unable to withstand the knowledge he’d scribbled within.

Despite it being an obvious danger, he didn’t consider destroying or throwing it away.

It was still knowledge, after all. It would be a waste to simply dispose of a glimpse of an impossibly higher being. Though dangerous, it provided interesting insights into the fundamental Laws of the omniverse.

Abilities he’d derived from such knowledge were immune to worldly suppression, a trait that proved invaluable in his travels.

Though loathe to admit it, that encounter was also the event that drove him to pursue immortality in earnest. He wished to say his will had always been iron, but his pursuit of immortality at first was just done because he didn’t know what to do.

To put it bluntly, he was a spoiled second-generation young master who saw the world as his oyster. Born at the peak, he did not care who or what he had stepped on to achieve his goals. Blindly confident in his destiny, he should have received a reality check early on. Sadly, his vanity was perhaps only matched by his skill, which allowed this attitude to continue for a long while.

The encounter had fixed that outlook. It broadened his horizons far beyond the gaze of mortals and even most immortals, and for that, he was forever grateful.

Though the manner in which such a meeting was held was unpleasant, it could not be helped. Even now, he carries scars from that encounter. Partly out of pride and partly because he just couldn’t remove them. However, the former would become more prominent, as, over time, he would come to realize that it was a complete miracle to even walk away while only carrying a few scars and a little mental pollution.

Now he moved on to do what led him to the mirror in the first place. He didn’t know why he liked being in front of it when he examined his status, but it was a habit developed and wasn’t something particularly negative so it was kept. The narcissism from back then grew this particular trait, and it failed to wither even as he lost his luster.

Status

Status

Name: Eldridge Von Hastur

Titles: Quasi-Administrator, Etc.

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Age: 10,360

Total Level: [Hidden] 5134 / [Shown] 1510

Mana: 4,100,587,900

Attributes:

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Race: Human** [Eldritch Taint]

Subrace: Crawling Chaos of a Thousand Faces [Tainted]

Skills: Expand?

Main Class: [Hidden] Artificer of Eternity / [Shown] Alchemical Archmage

Skills: Expand?

Subclass 1: Master Arcanist

Skills: Expand?

Subclass 2: [Hidden] Archon of Souls

Skills: Expand?

Subclass 3: Elemental Archmage

Skills: Expand?

Subclass 4: [Hidden] Riftwalker / [Shown] Space Mage

Skills: Expand?

General Skills:

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Condition: Twilight, Eldritch Taint[0.01%], etc.[Expand?]

His status. A culmination of over 10,000 years of triumph, dedication, and trauma. With it, he could easily visualize the deep reserves he’d built up over the years.

And soon, he’d be throwing most of it away if all went the way he planned. The only regret in doing so was possibly discarding the recognition of an indescribable existence - the System -, as it represented a way out in case things went awry. His current favor might carry over, but he was unsure.

He could only hope, leaving it all up to chance. There was nothing he could do to influence a decision like this even with all his privileges.

It was [Detached], just that was enough. Knowing that, however, also gave him some confidence. An omnipotent being shouldn’t be stingy. Worse comes to worst he at least knew how to utilize it to get a faster start in his new form. He didn’t know enough about it, though, and the little that he did know did not paint a very benevolent picture.

That in itself was funny, as the System loved nothing more than for more people to know more about it. He could call upon its very essence right now if he so wished. It prided itself on being “Open Source”, but taking it up on that offer would invariably incur more of the condition [Eldritch Taint]. Even if a mere glimpse was worth more than his 10,000 years of progress, he had more than enough already and couldn’t stomach any more.

That he even had that condition at all went to show just how far he had traveled. Most people wouldn’t find any traces of an eldritch presence, much less the [Detached], unless they were very, very unlucky or they possessed the ability to travel in the space between worlds. Unfortunately for Eldridge, he had both those qualities.

Those that happened to inhabit this world were subject to the former, though most alive now didn’t know it.

Despite standing for only a few minutes, he already started to feel his knees begin to buckle. His body could hardly continue without the support of magic. Despite being as thin as sticks and weighing just as little, his physical body was unable to keep up. Though knowing such a thing would happen, it disappointed him nonetheless.

It seemed his body would not show him the capacity to break its limits like those heroes he saw during his travels. He supposed he didn’t have any comrades to sacrifice for that kind of powerup, so it was only to be expected.

“[Levitate], [Teleport].”

Forced to act, he decided to just get on with it. Upon the cast, his surroundings immediately shifted. The target destination was the place where he usually did his tinkering - a hollowed-out area underneath the tower spanning nearly the entire iceberg.

He could have forced himself to walk here, tortured himself with multiple flights of stairs, and relived the “human” experience, but he doubted his body could withstand such a monumental task. He still needed it for a little while longer.

Not only because he still needed a tether to the living realm but also because it would be useful for the next step.

While not physically strong, millennia of use channeling mana made it an unparalleled magic conductor.

The next part, after he had cheated a little, helped along by [Levitation], would still be done on foot.

What could he say? He had a heart for theater.

In an instant, a spacious room filled with magi-tech apparatuses came into view. They were mounted on the walls, interspersed around the floor, or just floated in mid-air. Though even with the fancy equipment on all sides, one thing stood out above the rest, in part due to the distance from it and the rest of the equipment.

At the center of the room was an altar, and around it were circles upon circles of gold, forming the bedrock from which a massive ritual would be conducted. These gold circles ran like arteries, fanning out from the center.

It was a wonder that such a common material could find use in magic so advanced, but it truly deserved to be a metal everyone loved.

Standing in front of this ritual once more, on the eve of his sublimation into a higher being, a trace of nostalgia washed over him once again. And with it, an irresistible memory came over him.

It brought him back to the first time he attempted something similar, all 10,000 years ago. His first step towards immortality. His first step on the road of no return.

He quite literally sacrificed everyone he knew at that point for it to work.

It was from this memory that carried with it a touch of guilt that a hint of doubt touched his mind. This feeling was quickly extinguished, replaced with pure determination.

He had made his peace.

Now was not the time for second thoughts. He’d have plenty of time to consider everything once he’d succeeded.

With firm eyes, he walked towards the center. His steps were heavy, as though weighed down by the past he was unconsciously unwilling to let go. That it was his spirit controlling his movements through a [Levitation] spell only gave credence to that idea.

Step by conscious step he approached. Careful to not disturb his previous preparations, he made his way forward with caution. While his arrangement was not nearly so delicate as to break upon a single touch, it didn’t hurt to remain alert.

After what felt like ages, he stopped before the altar. Standing in front of centuries of work, he felt a sense of catharsis.

The journey from his room to here had satisfied all lingering attachments to this human body. Though moving in a manner akin to a puppet on strings, he relived the experience of walking with his own two legs for the last time. Casting his eyes downward, his eyes settled on the centerpiece, the core of the formation.

Upon that altar was an orb no larger than a marble, and perhaps one might even mistake it for one at first glance. From the outside, it had no special features, a monochrome gold from all sides. That would be a woeful misidentification if anyone ever did that.

It is a world core. Or rather, it was one. It was an object he’d come across during one of his many world-hopping adventures. The story of collecting this treasure in particular could only be described as a misadventure, however.

Stepping into an unstable rift, he’d almost died from the chaotic ambient mana raging as far as he was able to perceive. The coordinates that had this thing were strange and messy, completely unlike anything he’d encountered before.

The world itself was long gone, well and truly annihilated until only this treasure among treasures was left. What had happened to the world it once was or why the being that destroyed it hadn’t taken the core away was something Eldridge wasn’t able to pursue at the time. However, how could he possibly refuse such a priceless thing?

He deemed himself unworthy of someone able to destroy a world to scheme against, either, so he took it without a second thought. When fishing, the bait needed to fit the prey, after all.

From the damaged state that spewed chaotic, distorted Laws and broken Rules in all directions to the current pristine artifact that would replace his inner soul as the core of his being. It was an undertaking spanning thousands of years.

Now…

It was finally time. Everything was ready. The ritual could begin.

Their sacrifice will not be in vain. Their souls will live on. They will be a part of something far greater than themselves.

A part of me.

A part of …

Apollyon.

My magnum opus.

Apollyon

Equip Requirement: LVL 1

Durability: N/A

Effects:

N/A

An inactive artifact core