Another mark. Carl carefully investigated the scarring on the mountain wall. He estimated the battle took place just over a week ago. It was enough to conclude two things. One, they were indeed heading toward the Farsee Court. Secondly, Carl was catching up with them. The earliest traces he’d discovered were two days older.
Covering more ground was by no means a testament to his strength. He was benefitting from his target carving a path of destruction, slaughtering beasts and breaking natural formations through sheer force. He was tracking a real monster. As they should be. It was a sign, proof that his idea was the right one.
Carl absorbed a lingering sliver of Dao into his eyes. The world was drowned in apocalyptic flames that threatened to consume him whole. His vision returned to normal after a fierce struggle, and he followed the golden stream conjured by [Road to Olympus].
Every day, he drew a little closer. There were more than enough marks left to refuel his tracking skill, making it impossible to lose their trail. The dangers he’d faced after experiencing the life of Ervin Mantala, the Senior Surveyor under the Imperial Workshop’s employ, were conspicuously absent. The stillness tried to sow seeds of doubt in his heart, telling him he was prey being lured into a trap. He wouldn’t let it.
Convictions aside, Carl couldn’t stop his beating heart from galloping when he finally spotted the glorious sun burning in the distance. He could vaguely see a figure sitting atop it. They were meting out fiery judgment on a swarm of insects below. Like a true sun, their flames seemed inexhaustible. Having the numbers on their side did nothing to subvert the brood’s fate.
Within the hour, a hill of ashes half a dozen miles across was all that remained. A few shells from the more durable beetles stuck out of the funeral pyre. Carl didn’t need to use his ocular skills to understand they’d been burnt at a molecular level, destroying any structural integrity they once had.
“I guess it’s time,” Carl muttered.
He straightened his clothes and flew out, making no attempts to hide his presence. He’d probably been spotted days ago, anyway. The sun shrunk during his approach, turning into a golden disk floating ten meters over the ashes. Carl had planned on landing on it before giving his sales pitch, but he realized he’d been overly optimistic.
What business did a pile of ashes have being so hot? Sweat was already pouring down Carl’s face after he’d crossed half the distance. It felt more like he was flying over an active volcano, if that volcano was also outfitted with the withering stare of an indifferent god. There was simply no way. Carl stopped midway, furiously going over the information he’d coaxed out of Ogras and Kruta during their drinking sessions.
“You are one of Zac’s generals?”
“I’m afraid not.” Carl staunchly shook his head. A general? No way. That’s the kind of title that comes with expectations that’ll get you killed. “I’m Carl Elrod, a simple janitor.”
The lingering heat was still burrowing into his body, but the crushing pressure on his soul had disappeared. Carl took it as an invitation and rushed toward the disc, praying it would provide sanctuary. It did. Carl exhaled with relief when the sweltering air was replaced by a refreshing wind, but he briefly forgot how to breathe when he finally saw the face of Iz Tayn.
Carl had to admit, the boss knew how to pick them. The young lady was like something that had stepped out of a fairy tale. The old fairy tales that used the deaths of foolish children as a cautionary tale, perhaps, but her beauty was not of this world.
Thank God Lissa wasn’t here. She wasn’t the jealous type, but Carl wasn’t sure that applied when this woman was involved. Intentionally or not, Iz Tayn looked the part of a maximum-threat homewrecker. Carl could only say a silent prayer for the Lady Atwood. Catheya was a devastating beauty if you could get past the undead thing, but this girl had her beat.
“You’re Zac’s… janitor?” the fairy said, seemingly having trouble grasping the meaning.
“The boss—uh, Emperor Atwood—has a penchant for causing… Upheavals, I suppose? I am trying to tidy things up.”
“That he does,” Iz said, her mouth curving upward. “You do not have to censure yourself before me.”
Carl suspiciously looked at Iz for a moment. Was it a trap where he’d suddenly get smote for his insolent mouth? No, the boss didn’t like stuck-up people like that. It was most likely genuine. What had Ogras called her? Harva-something? A bored princess touring the slums. He might as well play the part of the helpful local.
“How is Zac?”
“The boss was dying and encased in a block of ice the last time I saw him. He’d just finished summoning some titans and blowing up a massive space station.”
“Ice? Titans?” Iz Tayn stood unmoving for a second, her sapphire eyes blank as her brain rebooted.
Afraid Iz Tayn would misunderstand, Carl quickly elaborated. “Don’t worry, miss. That’s a good thing. That can only mean he’s a lot stronger by now. He should be hard at work destroying this place, too. The boss has never blown up a continent before, so he should be quite excited.”
The smile crept back onto Iz Tayn’s face. “It sounds like an interesting adventure. Your train of thought is… inspired.”
Ogras was right. The casual approach was absolutely the right choice when it came to this beautiful tyrant. Who knew, he might actually survive this mess of a trial?
“My wife sometimes says I’ve gone insane. Perhaps she’s right,” Carl shrugged. “All I know is that most of my stress disappeared the day I accepted a simple fact.”
“What fact is that?”
“It’s easier overcoming fate than the boss’s madness. The road to survival in this life is to embrace the chaos he brings.”
—————
Iz marveled at the devout madness burning in the man’s eyes. It was still early, but it held the potential to become something inspired. Something powerful. Iz had a feeling that Eldest Granduncle would be interested in this self-proclaimed janitor. He was even a practitioner of the Dao of Fire. Was their meeting fate? Р𝘼ℕỔβΕ𝐒
“Carl Elrod. Is there another reason you’ve followed me for the past week, beyond relaying Zachary Atwood’s regards?”
“Yes. I’d like to follow you if that’s okay.”
“You’re a Lightbringer of the Radiant Court,” Iz said, pointing at the mark on the archer’s hand. “Why do you wish to follow me to the Farsee Court when your fate lies elsewhere? Safety?”
“My Fate is wherever the boss needs me. Some seal won’t change that,” Carl said.
“You were ordered to go to the Farsee Court?”
“No,” Carl shook his head. “It’s just that the boss’s two Planeswalkers aren’t very reliable.”
“You’re completing the cycle,” Iz surmised.
Her reasoning was the same. She’d tried to follow Zac’s suggestion despite not having a quest of her own. She didn’t reach all the way, with three courts remaining unaccounted for among her subordinates. Among them, the Farsee Court was closest when she stepped onto the Left Imperial Expanse.
Carl nodded. “I suspect that our performance in the nine courts will improve the boss’s chances when the Left Imperial Palace finally appear. The Radiant Court is already in good hands, so I figured I’d go here instead.”
“Have you found anything to support the viability of your idea?” Iz asked.
“I have.” Carl nodded with a solemn expression. “I found you. That must mean I’m on the right track. The boss’s will works in mysterious ways.”
“Heaven’s fortunes are limited,” Iz said. “What if achieving my goals means your plans will fall through?”
“I don’t believe it’ll come to that. The boss’s quest said he could form multiple cycles. But if your success hinges on thwarting the boss’s plans…” Carl seemed to consider the issue at length. “Then I’d say you’re about to experience the Atwood rollercoaster of Fate.”
The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.
Iz looked at the unusual archer for a few seconds. She could tell he wasn’t ignorant of her status. He understood she was a Flamebearer and a descendant of a powerful faction, that her strength likely eclipsed that of his ‘boss.’ And yet, there was not a shred of doubt in his mind that Zac’s innate Chaos could stretch across time and space and shape events in his favor.
Carl Elrod was quite interesting. He also had something she lacked—conviction that surpassed the rational. She had done everything by the book in her months-long excursion into the Imperial Graveyard, relying on superior knowledge and resources. And yet, the experience was lined with setbacks.
She’d failed to accomplish most of her goals, from hunting down the annoying elemental to forming a full Sealbearer cycle. She’d almost lost her life to some backwater cultists after completing her seal. Salou had even been forced to sacrifice his life to open an escape route. Iz knew that she hadn’t made any mistakes based on the information she had at the time.
Another part of her felt the losses could have been prevented if she’d just believed. Believed in herself and her followers, that they could somehow change the inevitable conclusions drawn from her family’s wealth of knowledge and experience. If she’d just possessed that madness she was seeing in Carl Elrod, the immutable belief that so fiercely rejected reality that reality changed.
“Then let us see what Fate has in store for us,” Iz said. The golden disk began to move and soon left the smoldering critters far behind. “Carl Elrod. You said you have a wife?”
The archer’s face lit up, and something resembling a Selvari invention appeared in his hands. Iz wanted to ask him the same question she had of Zac: whether mortal bonds had helped or harmed his pursuit of the Dao. That question was preempted by a series of images of a demoness and a mixed-race child appearing one after another.
“Yes, Lissa, and that’s our daughter Ella. Thank God she got her mother’s face. I hope she also got my impeccable nose for survival.”
——
The restraining cocoon melted, and Rhubat’s nostrils were immediately filled with the stench of fresh blood. Rhubat looked around to orient themself. It had been four days since Rhubat’s utter defeat and subsequent capture, and they’d had been carried around like a piece of luggage since. The cocoon had perfectly sealed their senses, and the surroundings were completely different from before.
Rhubat’s captor had chosen a large bird’s nest for a campsite. It was hundreds of meters across and made from whole trees that kept the intense energies contained. The thick bed was made from foreign moss that released a shroud that nourished Rhubat’s body. In the middle of the nest, there was a large pile of Natural Treasures. The arrangement was crude, but Rhubat had to admit it surpassed any cultivation chamber of the Zhix’s making.
That hadn’t saved the nest’s original owners from their captor’s violent tendencies.
Six large carcasses of unfamiliar birds were lying to the side on a bed of violet feathers. One of them was larger than the others combined. It was a parent and their offspring. The adult emitted the fierce aura of a Peak Beast King, yet there were no signs of struggle. It had been killed quickly and cleanly so as not to damage the campsite.
Rhubat didn’t bother looking for an escape route. There were dozens of insects no weaker than the fallen Beast King in the nest. Some were rummaging through the treasure pile while the others feasted on bird flesh. Rhubat knew that any sudden movement would immediately garner their attention.
As for their master, Rhubat couldn’t even muster the thought of struggle. She sat nearby, lazily playing with a bloody feather. She was more insectoid than the Zhix, with only vaguely human features to indicate she wasn’t a Beast King. She was taller than Rhubat before their transformation at seven meters tall.
Her proportions were different than the norm, with a torso twice as long as a human’s. She had four long, slender arms that hid incomprehensible power. She had suppressed Rhubat without trying, slapping away any skills coming her way with a wave of her hands. Their duel, if one could call it that, would have been over in a second if she hadn’t been interested in testing his means.
Rubhat’s instincts screamed that she was an exalted being. The Queen of Anointed, a being destined to lead. Rejecting her commands was to deny the nature hardcoded into any Zhix’s brain. Was this why Rhubat felt so calm despite their likely demise?
Perhaps dying was for the best. Rhubat knew their identity as the Chainbreaker was approaching taboo territory. It might delay the Zhix’s search for a future free of masters or derail it altogether.
“Will you try to fight me again?”
“I cannot defeat you.”
“That’s not an answer,” the powerful stranger said with a smile. “I’m guessing you’ll try to die at my hands depending on my reason for capturing you.”
Rhubat answered with silence. She was correct, and lying was beneath a warrior.
“I haven’t earned a name yet. You can call me Wrani, after my mother,” the insectoid said. “I won’t kill you unless you force my hand. Your kind are probably the only other insectoid cultivators in this trial.
“I’ve looked through your things the past few days,” the queen said, unperturbed by Rhubat’s silence. “Your people are called Zhix? A eusocial species integrated into the multiverse less than two decades ago. To think there’s not one but two of your kind in this trial. Very interesting. It shows promise.”
Rhubat hesitated a moment before speaking the truth. “Our presence is only because of favor given.”
“Yes. Zachary Atwood. One of the nine Flamebearers,” she said, cocking her head at him. “It won’t work out, you know.”
“Lord Atwood has told me that his goal is not the Left Imperial Palace or the Heritage it holds. I have no reason to doubt his words. He is not your enemy.”
“Smart. Even if he had the strength, which I doubt, he lacks the backing to fight for the grand prize,” she said with a smile. “But I’m not talking about that. I’m talking about you. About the Zhix living under the roof of a human. It always ends in one or two ways. You’ll eventually exterminate them.”
“Or?”
“Or you’ll become their slaves,” she said with a flicker of anger in her eyes. “Humans are individualistic. Some are generous to a fault. Others are selfish. Some are lone wolves, going through life alone. Humans don’t value community like our kind. Our strict societal hierarchy is seen as stupidity, and they use our cohesion against us. So long as a human can control a hive’s leader, he’ll gain full control over the population. Wasn’t that almost what happened with the traitors of your kind?”
Rhubat couldn’t refute her words. Thousands of years of suffering under the Dominators’ tyranny was indeed the result of one greedy human’s schemes. If Zachary Atwood had shown the Zhix humanity’s infinite potential for good, then Voridis A’Heliophos had shown them their potential for evil.
Sacrificing whole worlds, including countless souls of their own kin, for a cultivation breakthrough? The concept was alien to Rhubat and any other Zhix. It did not matter how far a specific Zhix reached on the path of cultivation. Weak or strong, they’d work for the betterment of the hive. Personal strength held no meaning.
Rhubat wouldn’t begrudge the coming generations for having a smoother path or future leaders reaching greater heights. Such was the natural order. Rhubat’s death would be weakness leaving the hive, and their work on the Zhix Cultivation System would be continued by their successor. This mentality allowed the hives to stand as one when the world changed. The humans had turned on themselves the second order collapsed, becoming a threat to their own survival.
The tumor of shortsighted selfishness remained after Zachary Atwood’s efforts brought order to their world. Even soldiers acted on their own accord, sometimes ignoring the orders of their superiors. Numerous Hive Kundevi warriors had fallen after such illogical actions pushed them into a hopeless situation. But change was difficult and paved with blood.
“Why cannot our differences become our strength?” Rhubat said. “The Zhix would have fallen without our benefactor’s help, and his faction would have struggled without our strength. Together, we rose to new heights during the intersector war.”
“It’ll be fine so long as you have an outside threat to force unity,” Wrani said. “It’s when your faction matures that the cracks will begin to show. Your populations will grow quicker than your domain, while your strongest combatants require exponentially more resources. What you once took from the hands of your enemies will suddenly have to come out of a countryman’s pocket.
“An Emperor of humanity cannot control their population as we can. He cannot erase the greed in his subordinate’s heart, and he can’t keep watch over every little issue within his domain.”
“The Zhix can learn to work with other species.”
“Can you?” Wrani shook her head, taking out a thick book from Rhubat’s ring. It was a prototype version of the Zhix’s cultivation methods, which incorporated Rhubat’s latest insights from completing their seal. “This is no good.”
“As you said, the Zhix were only integrated two decades ago,” Rhubat calmly countered. “It will get better.”
“This is a dead end,” Wrani said, and Rhubat’s heart clenched when the tome went up in flames. Rhubat was furious at seeing his people’s tireless work dismissed in such a way, yet powerless to do anything about it. The huge insectoid leaned closer and growled right into Rhubat’s face. “You’ve lost your way.”
“The Zhix were stagnating. We had to adapt to our new reality to survive!”
“By incorporating human nature into your Heritage? Feh!” Wrani spat and leaned back. “Even Zachary Atwood seems to understand your path better than you! The Zhix needed to change to be accepted by the Heavens? Nonsense! Aren’t Zhix children born under the Heavens? You’ve been blinded by one human’s strength, thinking their way of life is the only answer.
“But what do you know? Have you seen the unstoppable swarms inside the Eternal Storm? Have you seen eons of effort culminating in the birth of a king or queen with potential at the very limits of what the Cosmos will abide? Have you seen the Ancient factions of humanity quake in their boots when the lords of the swarm gaze their way?”
Throughout her tirade, Wrani’s aura kept rising. By the end, Rhubat was barely able to breathe. What was this? How could anyone defeat a being like this? It wasn’t just the raw, monstrous power thrumming through her body. She carried the Fate of a whole race within her body, making her appear as large as the Heavenly dome.
“Insectoid Races do not need to change to suit the Heavens! We embody Heaven’s Path!” the whole nest shook from the declaration.
“What do you want from me?” Rhubat eventually sighed when the pressure relented.
“You being here proves your race has valuable traits. Why don’t you become a follower of mine? I’ll help your species get back on track and excavate your true potential,” Wrani said. “I’ll help you repay your debt to that human. Later, we’ll relocate your hives to a more suited region.”
Rhubat hesitated. The reason for participating in the trial was to discover a future for their species. Was this it?
“What would you have me do?”
The words had barely left Rhubat’s mouth before a blinding pain arrived. Rhubat grunted with pain from having their left arm ripped off. It was nothing compared to the shock and confusion of seeing Wrani consume the arm whole. Rhubat could see their limb cause a bulge in Wrani’s throat as it made its way to her stomach.
“Not bad. As I suspected, there’s something useful buried in your traits. You’ll have to regrow your limbs a few times for me to fully extract it,” Wrani smacked her lips with contentment. “Work hard on recovery. If I can incorporate your genes before we reach the Tethered Court, I’ll let you have a taste of the Primordial after I’ve hunted her down.”