Chapter 823 - Record of a confrontation

Morwag’s arm is now black with faintly gray veins, and the place where it was cut off seems as if it is being eaten into and slowly rotting.

It now lies there with the elbow bent and squeezed into a glass container from Brich. With the help of Savant, who seems to have some experience with this, we have moved a few of Lily’s healing marks from me to the arm to make it last longer and feed the Necrotic Rot.

The container is now really full of it, with Savant releasing almost everything he has absorbed. It is quite a big amount. The guy seems to have been absorbing it whenever he could during the night. He also threw in a few very suspicious pieces of flesh and one that looks like a small fish scale, apparently to make it more potent.

To not be left behind, I leave a small vial’s worth of my blood there, to which Brich adds some pinkish liquid from one of his bottles. Weslin joins with his void, performing something like an attempt to cut off and entirely separate the version of the rot that is inside from the version of the rot we all have. He does this just in case, so that in the future, it does not reactivate whatever remains of it, we might still carry.

Currently, after syncing our process, our Necrotic Rot is gone as we all sync to get rid of it within less than a second. For another homemade cookie from Savant, Zant also confirms it.

So now, there is that container with a rotting arm and many different liquids sloshing inside, as well as a few weird items. And that rot begins to change gradually. It is growing on the arm, powered by Lily’s healing marks, and who knows how those affect the process, along with the other things we threw in as well.

Now, carrying this through the floor sounds like a scary idea, but that container gets reinforced by everyone. Morwag uses his binding to make it tougher. I draw the array on the container with my blood instead of mana conductive paint, and the others do something of their own as well.

Zant watches quietly the entire time with a look that seems to be one of disinterest, though with a rare spark of horror as we do certain things to the arm.

It must be a good thing.

With our goals more or less done, we head to leave the third floor, with me giving a last look towards the mana dead zone in the distance. The question still remains.

Why would the Ruler of Diligence do that?

***

All of us appear at the same place on the second floor, and right away, marks are placed on each of us. This is all done by the owner of this tower, which is carved into an enormous stone projectile launched by an Absolute or higher rank long ago. I still find it fascinating how much time it must have taken to carve.

Giving ourselves a bit of a break to do our own things for a few hours, Brich and Savant separate while Weslin, Morwag, and I head to our branch to ask for information on a guide called Duncan for our fishing trip.

Before they leave, I am finally unable to help myself and speak to Morwag. "What the hell are you snickering about the entire time?"

He looks at me for a few heartbeats before he starts laughing. "Mwahhahaha!" He does it out loud and without any shame, in such a way that I cannot even be sure if he is making fun of me or if he is just that happy. The laugh disappears as quickly as it came as he pushes his emotions back under control.

Then, with a calm face, he says, "You will see soon enough," and waves for Weslin to follow him to the guild branch. Morwag is still missing his arm, but doesn’t seem to be bothered by it at all.

I stare at their backs as they leave before pushing those thoughts away. Then, as I expected, a connection forms with my mind through the mark the local Champion placed on us, and a voice sounds in my head.

(Nathaniel! I am so happy to see you again!) Spark shouts excitedly with his youthful voice.

(Hello, Spark,) I say, while I find myself a nice bench to sit on.

(Are you the one who is kidnapping Weslin this time?) He laughs, and I can sense him observing me.

(You could say that,) I snicker. (Are you alone?)

(I wish! There are so many of me, and I keep hearing their voices, but it is fun! I want to hear more voices because it would mean more friends! Marble wants to join in, can he?)

(Yup, why not.)

(Thank you! You are such a good friend as well! Marble, you be nice to Nathaniel!)

(There is no reason for me to be nice, but I will remain polite,) The new, less emotional voice says. (I greet the guild master of the Primordial Knights,) He says to me.

Before I can even react, Spark speaks up. (That is true! Congratulations, Nathaniel! Are the demons bullying you? Do you need help?)

(As if demons would let him become guild master if he needed help. It is more likely he bullies them.) Marble snorts.

(Nathaniel wouldn’t do that, right?)

(I will remain silent about that,) I say.

(Oh no,) Spark says in shock, as if his world is breaking.

(Please ignore Spark. I want to once again ask you to let me observe your body on a deeper level in exchange for reasonable payment. It can be the same kind of information as last time,) Marble says to me.

(What do you have?)

(I have three things I can disclose that I think you might be interested in. The first is the contents of a message left under a loose floorboard in the West Wing one hundred years ago. It was meant to stop a guild war, but someone put a heavy rug over it, and it got lost. Currently, some domesticated creature sleeps over that rug.)

(Ehm. Another one?)

(See, Spark? I keep telling you all attendees are greedy and unable to appreciate the value of information like this.)

(Nathaniel, do you really bully demons?) Spark ignores Marble entirely.

(Sometimes?) I say.

After my answer, Spark falls into a shocked silence while Marble continues. (Another one is a record of a confrontation that happened on the twelfth floor of Beyond not long ago.)

(You cannot share that! Veil will be angry!) Spark shouts.

I can hear Marble snicker. (She won't. That record was broadcast live by the Ruler of Envy through the entirety of Beyond for all handlers and kings to see. The outcome won't change the fact that the record was freely shared and is thus available for further spreading.)

(But wouldn't he get angry if more people saw what happened?)

(His feelings do not change much about the nature of the information.) Marble cuts him off and then turns back to me. (The last information I offer is the number of times attendees in this city have been brought the wrong food by a waitress but ate it anyway because they did not want to say anything, in the past 500 years. The actual number would surprise you.)

(I have heard something similar from you before.) I mention.

(Indeed. The number of times attendees have tripped over their own feet while trying to look mysterious or intimidating in the past 500 years. That one was truly valuable.)

(I still cannot believe the number.)

(So surprising, right?)

(Yes, but this time I would like the record of the 12th floor confrontation.)

(How disappointing,) Marble sighs and muses before saying, (How about the number of times attendees from the past 200 years that have watched the hairdressers cut their hair and their faces started twitching as it was all entirely different from what they wanted, but they did not say anything, and after all that, they paid, and once outside of the store they cried.)

Hearing that, I fall into silence and bury my face in my open palms.

I really want to hear that.

Still, I force myself to stop and speak again. (I will go with the record, Marble.)

The part of the mind of the local Champion seems disappointed but agrees, and I let him observe my body, something he does along with Spark. This time it takes longer than the first time, and they do not even talk that much.

Just at the end, Spark whispers, (N-Nathaniel, are you okay?)

(Yes.)

(But-)

(It is fine, Spark. So, all good from my side?)

(Yes,) Marble says. (I will invite you to a mental space I create, so follow through the link I will provide.)

(Got it.)

After that, I do just as I am told and soon find myself in a desolate area filled with many mountains and clear air that allows me to see far away. It looks neverending, with some places looking exactly the same. It is as if someone made a dozen or so square miles of area, filled it with nature and mountains, and then just copied and pasted it across a neverending stretch.

Soon, two floating orbs appear next to me. One of them seems like it is made of black gray marble, and the other is a cheerful spark of light. While Marble moves slowly, Spark jumps all over the place, bumping against my form here.

"We are now within the record," the voice sounds from the Marble orb that stops by my side.

"Hello Nathaniel!" Spark continues to quickly circle me and bounce all over the place before landing on my shoulder. "But I mean it, your body is, as Ember would say, fucked up. Take care of yourself more!"

"There will be time for that," I say and poke Spark. "It will be okay. My plans are beyond your mortal comprehension."

"So cool!"

"Let us not waste more time," Marble gets impatient, and the area around us shifts as he moves us through the record until we find two figures. A silver haired woman and a lynthari with two tails standing next to her.

Lissandra and Myrra.

Then the record starts playing. Both of them stop running as Lissandra gestures for Myrra to halt. She then swings her hand as if deflecting unseen attacks.

For a few long seconds, nothing happens. Then, far, far in the distance, something explodes into a huge fireball that fills the horizon and continues to grow and grow. I watch the shockwave spread and bulldoze everything in its way. It erases mountains taller than Mount Everest, turning them into explosions of rock as it spreads further and further.

Once it almost reaches Myrra and Lissandra, the former Absolute swings her hand, and the shockwave splits in front of them, missing by a mile on each side and carving deep scars into the earth.

"Hahaha, such a nice reaction, and I thought I was being sneaky about that attack! As expected of the inferior copy of a once great being." That voice sounds like it's coming from everywhere, making it difficult to locate where it is coming from.

Lissandra does not even seem to be bothered by it as she looks around, specifically in one direction. "Is that all?"

The laughter stops.

"What, did you think your pathetic ability would hide you?" This time, Lissandra reaches for her waist, where she taps on the entirely black dagger hanging there. Just that little touch causes the light to flicker, and the field hiding the lumoran breaks like a sheet of colored glass.

The revealed lumoran has black skin like all of his race, with crystalline features adorning only his head, creating diadem like protrusions circling it with a larger one on his forehead. His right hand, made from the same crystal with bone visible inside as well as mana, begins to shake until he closes it.

The smile then flowers on his face again. "THAT was fucking scary. But how about this, you fake little thing?"

Lissandra’s hand turns into a blur, and two seconds later, multiple explosions similar to the first one erupt so far in the distance that I can barely see them. Yet the flashes of light and the fireballs grow until they must be each twice as tall as the mountains around. There are five such explosions, each a different color: pink, purple, yellow, green, and blue.

Myrra keeps staring with her eyes wide open as Lissandra flicks her hand again, this time to deflect the attack targeted at the lynthari, and another explosion is deflected, creating a sixth fireball. The shockwaves far in the distance continue to spread rapidly, entirely evaporating everything in their way as they bounce off each other.

"Little kitten, your mana," Lissandra says simply, not even taking her eyes off the lumoran man who continues to smile at her.

As asked, Myrra offers her mana to Lissandra, who takes it over without breaking eye contact with him. In an elegant gesture reminiscent of a duelist, Lissandra moves her open right hand, lifting it in front of her face with the palm turned toward her.

And when it almost seems like the shockwaves will reach them, Lissandra closes that hand into a fist with the audible crack of breaking ice.

All of the colossal fireballs from the explosions in the distance disappear as if they never existed. All of the shockwaves are gone, turning into a gentle summer breeze that hits Lissandra’s back, blowing into her clothes and silver hair as it waves around her head.

As she opens her hand again, a small orb glows there, made of multiple color,s the same as the explosions.

She grabs it with the tips of her fingers and flicks it toward the Ruler of Envy, who shouts in panic as the entire sky changes its color.