“It was a good fight,” Gen said, tapping Dallion on the shoulder.

“A good fight…” Dallion repeated.

That could be argued. While he had survived the encounter, he had gotten a lot less than he had hoped. The colossus had died before answering the third question, and as for the achievement…

Dallion looked at the black plaque on the achievement wall of his realm. Far darker than the materials of all other plaques, it seemed to be laughing, taunting him with its zero point reward.

“Think that has something to do with the curse?” Dallion glanced at his weapon guardians.

Both Harp and Vihrogon were there with him, and both had a completely different air. Harp emanated worry and pride, visible like blue clusters of grapes within her body. The dryad, on the other hand, only had blobs of regret.

“It’s possible. There are achievements that don’t give anything,” the dryad said. “You’re lucky to be alive, Dal. I know you want to succeed in everything, but you faced a banished creature and won.”

“Harp won,” Dal corrected.

“You survived and without being turned into a chainling.”

There was no denying the facts. Survival wasn’t guaranteed in the real world, especially after such a monstrosity had emerged from the ground. That was also another reason he couldn’t afford to waste opportunities. Even if the device wasn’t activated now, it was already causing enough chaos for the void to drip into the real world.

“I’ll be fine.” Dallion took a few steps closer to the achievement plaque. That was supposed to act as a reminder. Ignoring all the petty trivialities, he had two goals: save himself and save the world, preferably in that order. If he didn’t, the void would consume both and he might well end up the next Star or a brainless chainling puppet.

Compelled by a slight degree of OCD, he slid his thumb over the plaque in an attempt to remove grime. To his astonishment, he succeeded. To an even greater surprise, the layer that briefly emerged beneath the grime was different from the one on top.

“Dal, what are you doing?” Vihrogon asked.

The realm owner gave him a sign to remain quiet, then slid his entire left hand over the plaque. A patch of cleanliness became visible.

VANQUISHER OF NAUGHT

(+1 Awakening, +1 Body, +1 Mind, +1 Reaction, +1 Perception, +1 Empathy, +1 Magic)

You destroyed something that no longer exists.

Vanquisher of Naught? He wondered as the layer of darkness covered the plaque before his very eyes.

“What the heck is that?” He turned to Harp.

It had to be linked to the curse! Apparently, it wasn’t enough that he had to experience nightmares and crippling pain, but from here on, it seemed that some of the achievements he gained would be blocked. The only silver lining was that once he resolved the curse, he’d instantly gain a lot of trait statistics.

Just to make sure, he rubbed off the area with the numbers. The numbers changed for a few moments, before turning back to zeroes.

“I have never seen that before,” the nymph replied.

“I know what it is,” Vihrogon said in a dark tone. “It’s the Star.”

“I killed the Star. It’s too early for there to be a new one.”

“Then there’s someone who knows some of his tricks. Think of it as a sort of delevelling—a permanent illusion that makes something become less than it is. Back during my days of conquest, the Star used the same on those of questionable allegiance. As long as they fought for the right side, all was well. The rest of the time…” he nodded in the direction of the plaque. “You better go. Three chainlings got to you while you were in your realm. There might be more who could do the same.”

“You were subjected to that, weren’t you?” Dallion asked. Only someone who’d been through this could experience such bitterness and regret.

“It was a long time ago,” the other replied and left in a dash of roots.

Dallion looked at the trail the dryad had created, then back at the achievement.

“Go.” Harp approached him, placing her hand on his shoulder. “I’ll take care of things here. Focus on things out there.”

With a nod, Dallion glanced at the gathered echoes and returned to the real world. The devastation the fight had caused was still there, making the grave of a creature that wasn’t supposed to be in the world. Was it a grave, though? According to the Moon laws, all guardians were supposed to be sent back to the banished realm. However, was the colossus a guardian anymore?

Gathering his gear and other possessions, Dallion left the mark of destruction behind, continuing towards the kingdom of Alor.

The trip was long, even for an awakened. Several times he was stopped by small groups of people: scouting parties, mercenaries, even outright brigands that tried to rob and kill him. In some cases, his hunter’s emblem was enough to ensure safe passage. In others, Dallion had to use more forceful arguments. None of those were his greater fear, though. Rather, it was the hours he spent sleeping in his realm. Even with Gem keeping watch, Dallion was afraid that another chainling would attempt to attack him, or possibly drag a colossus into the world again. He knew that the chances of this happening were remote, and yet the subconscious element of fear remained.

Why don’t you just fly? Diroh’s echo asked from within his realm. So what if someone sees you’re a mage?

“I’m not worried about someone finding out,” Dallion lied. “I don’t want to give Adzorg the chance to escape.”

You’re really out to get him, aren’t you?

“How’s the Academy?” he abruptly changed the topic. “Has anyone been giving you trouble?”

You wish. With Katka watching over my original like a hawk, no one dares. Her explanations could be a bit better. Good thing that your former classmate is there to help out.

“That’s good.”

My original managed to complete her first symbol a few days ago. I’ll still need a while to get the hang of it.

“Don’t worry. Things get easier later on.”

Only for a mage. Naturals must use artifacts. It’s not the same.

During most of his existence in this world, Dallion had complained that those in power used shortcuts to provide opportunities to people who didn’t deserve them. Some would say that Diroh was no exception, but they would be wrong. The power that had let her awaken and granted her a unique blend of natural magic was by no means pleasant. Although the echo hadn’t said it directly, he could tell that using artifacts to cast spells at the level of a novice exhausted her.

“Tell Cheska to—” Dallion abruptly stopped. He had spotted something in the distance.

Tens of miles away, a well-guarded caravan was approaching. Judging by the direction the wagons were facing, it was going towards Alor, but hadn’t left from the empire.

“Talk to you later.” Dallion put on his blocker ring and rushed in the direction of the caravan.

The closer he got, the more details he could see. The group was composed of ten wagons, all loaded up to such an extent that the wheels were having difficulty supporting the load. Three dozen mercenaries—humans with a few furies—were providing protection. All of them looked like veterans, although their awakened level wasn’t over twenty-five at most.

After diminishing the distance by three quarters, Dallion slowed down. He had reached the distance at which they’d likely see him, so it was better to approach them walking.

Ten minutes later, he knew that he had overestimated their abilities. Upon spotting him, part of the mercenaries broke off from the main group, riding in his directions. The horses were painfully slow in comparison to his own sprint, although they were the endurant type.

Dallion and the riders continued moving towards one another. Once they got to about fifty feet apart, they stopped.

“Greetings,” the lead mercenary said.

If it were possible for there to be a female copy of Spike, that was her. Wearing almost as many weapons as clothes, she seemed like someone who had seen a lot and knew when to attack and when not, even if she preferred the former. Dallion would have loved to hear what her items had to say about the woman, but still kept the blocker ring on.

“By the Seven,” he replied. “I thought you might need some help. If you’re headed to Alor, that is.”

“Oh?” The mercenary squeezed her legs, making her horse move closer to Dallion. Her glance quickly fell on the emblem Dallion had made sure to be in view. “Hunter.” She then looked at his face. “Why are you wearing disfocus?”

“My client prefers that others don’t know that I’m here,” he replied. “Or what I’m searching for.”

“Hmm.”

“It’s not you, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“Who said I’m worried?”

“Your horse, for one.” Dallion reached out in the direction of the creature.

The animals quickly neighed and made an attempt to move back. The attempt was forcefully stopped by his rider.

“What’s your level?” another of the mercenaries asked.

“Over fifty,” Dallion decided to go with a plausible number.

“A level fifty on a hunt. You must be after something very nasty or very valuable.”

“It’s both. So, do we travel together? Or do you prefer to continue on your own?”

Hesitation emanated from the woman like a beacon. Having a level-fifty hunter was a good deal, but at the same time, they’d be foolish to fully trust him.

“I’ll have to ask. The dwarves call the shots here.”

Dwarves? “Go ahead. I’ll wait.”

One of them turned around, galloping back to the rest of the caravan. A few minutes later, a horn sounded—the offer had been accepted.

As it soon turned out, the merchants that owned the caravan were just returning to the capital with their final haul. With the war between the Tamin empire and the Azure federation intensifying, even kingdoms that weren’t involved were stocking up. Alor was no exception. Formally part of the Alliance of Stone and Steel, they had fortified their cities, ready should the war spill into their territory.

Ironically, that was to Dallion’s benefit. Since all the information the General had given him was the name of the kingdom, the fewer cities he had to search, the better. With tensions high, it was logical that all treasures made their way to the capital, which had the best protection and the largest underground vaults.

Despite the strength of the group, and the relative calm of the area, there were frequent indications that the war raged throughout the world… and not only that. One evening, just as the advance scouting party was preparing to check out the route the caravan was going to follow the next morning. A glow of purple emerged on the horizon.

“There we go again,” a mercenary said, barely even glancing in the direction.

“What’s that?” Dallion feigned ignorance. His aether sight made it perfectly clear that the glow in the distance came from vortexes.

“Magic towers.” The mercenary said with a dry laugh. “They appear, shine for a few days, then vanish again. The mages go wild for them, even if most can’t reach them in time.”

“I didn’t know there were mages so far west.”

“There aren’t. We still get the towers, though. There’s been a lot of them lately. Good thing they’re harmless or the kingdom would be freaking out.”

Harmless was hardly the word Dallion would use. As a mage, he wanted to rush towards the horizon and earn a few more levels of magic. He suppressed the desire. The vortexes weren’t a sign of anything good, but an indication that Adzorg had been tinkering with the device again, or would be.

“If this keeps up, they’ll reach the capital in a few months,” the female Spike-clone said. “Maybe weeks.”

“Weren’t they supposed to be harmless?” Dallion asked.

“No magic is harmless. The king sent a request for help from the rest of the alliance. Apparently, they can’t spare the mages right now, so we get to look at the shiny lights and hope that nothing bad happens in the meantime.”

Fat chance of that.

“How long till we get to the capital?”

“Another three or four days if there are no surprises on the way. Depends on what the scouts say.”

Three days was too long.

“I think I’ll be leaving you in the morning,” he stood up, moving away from the campfire. “If those things are as frequent as you say, I’ll have to hurry up finding my prey.”