Dreams. I am quite familiar with them. Had to. After witnessing Rher's manifestation I realized I was no longer the same person I had been, even the most minor of sensations had an altered nuance to them. The moonlight had tainted my existence, leaving its underlit mark. And nowhere this was most keenly felt than in Dreams.
But even then, this was uncharted territory to me. I was having a vision.
A cage made of pure light, yet somehow alive, bearing a festering wound from which tendrils of dirty red and purple darkness creep throughout the structure. And there, inside, two hosts of flaming warriors are locked in battle. One side yet pristine, the other tainted by corruption. One side speaks of duty and sacrifice willingly endured for a greater cause. The other side refutes it with the reality of soul renting pain, and disillusionment in hollow platitudes, for the sake of ungrateful mortals who do not even know their names while they beg for freedom and pray for death.
The fate of two angelic hosts hangs in the balance. And a dreamer bearing my blade in his hands holds their fates in his hands, as well as the fate of Kenabres and perhaps the Worldwound as well. He can destroy the cage along with all its inhabitants, or he can mend it by killing the angel defectors within. What he cannot do is free those who wish to escape and keep the stone intact for those who wish to remain.
But I can. I forged that blade as an extension of my being. I had once done the impossible and broken free from an inescapable prison, this feat was etched in my soul as a monument to said display of excellence. What I couldn't do was remotely send my heart blood to perform the feat, and sponsor this endeavor with my own life.
Yet, this doesn't mean it can't be done. The quintessence of the demon lord Deskari, the embodiment of the Hunger of the Abyss, lodged itself into my fire chakra in my stomach, integrating itself to my Hunger. A man's soul exists in three parts always striving for balance, if one advances the other two are sure to follow. Logic and Spirit are guided by Hunger's instincts to see it. The solution to our conundrum. The bounty of the heart of the one who wields me. Ah, would you look at that? There was some truth to Deskari's final words after all.
If he wanted to bring a perfect solution to the quarrel between the angelic hosts then he would have to pay the price. He would have to set his life ablaze and burn! The boy, barely a man, could scarcely be called a cultivator at all. And even this had come to pass only through my grace. The blessing of my light. He was still a 3rd rank civic cultivator with three centuries to burn at most. Nobody would fault him for turning back. The price was simply too heavy, there was a reason all heroic epics closed in tragedy, after all. Greek fire was unlike any other in the world – once it started burning it wouldn't go out until it reduced the world to cinders.
And yet. The irreverent [Chaotic] soul cried for freedom. It yearned to burn, to see an impossible miracle with its own eyes. To break free from the boring constraints of mediocrity and stagnation.
Sometimes desire alone is not enough. But sometimes a hero only needs to burn.
He set his life aflame and brought my blade down at the root of the corruption, loosening the prison enough for the angels from Heaven to escape free.
It was a good dream. Everything hurts though, I am going back to dreamless slumber.
-//-
Slowly awareness returns to me like a withered light switch. Everything still hurt and I feel like shit. The poison of the Lord of Locust Hosts is not to be trifled with. To begin with, I
should have been immune to it, I tempered my body against all forms of mundane poisons, venoms, and diseases during my time back to modern civilization. During my return to my alchemy studies, I tested myself against the deadliest poisons known to Golarion. Hell, I even dared to pitch myself against the Tyrant Riot's brew, the one that eventually killed him and brought the First Son to Burn to his knees instantly.
Not a fun experience. The danger has passed yet my body still feels hot and weak like I am in the throes of a tropical disease. My head is pounding enough for me to wish I was dead too. Even the comfy bed hurts. Fortunately, I had this chilly and comfy pillow to console myself with. It was just cool enough to bring relief yet not so hard to be ice. Perfect for a lazy afternoon nap on a hot summer day.
So I made myself comfortable by clinging to it yet further. That was when it started to moan in discomfort and I realized my pillow was no pillow at all. I slowly crack my eyes open just to see a well-toned yet unmistakable feminine stomach half exposed by my incessant turning. I slowly look up to see a beautiful middle-aged-looking lady with white hair, silver eyes, and a bright pink flush in her cheeks. She tried to hold my gaze but she kept on averting her eyes yet going back again and again, clearly more embarrassed than angered. Then I realized I was using her tights as my pillows.
I also belated noticed I had resumed my juvenile
puer aeternus form to hasten my recovery. Make sense at how I could fit in an ordinary bed, she looked nothing like a half-ogre to me. I could also hear loud music and celebration coming from downstairs as well and my internal clock informed me that about a week had passed since I faced Deskari.
A picture of events slowly starts to fall into place, I was incapacitated after killing the demon lord, meaning both forces were beheaded right at the start of the fight. The thing is, demons are not keen on leadership, they are slaves first and foremost to their selfish desires and obsessions; their weakness yet their greatest strength. They wouldn't back down, on the contrary, most would seize it as a chance to achieve prominence and notoriety. And there was no better target than myself, especially as defenseless as I had been. This woman is Terendelev, the silver dragon that I saved from Deskari. Considering I awakened the soul of practically everyone in the city, she must have elected to protect me instead of resuming the fight in the frontline.
"So this is my steward guardian during my period of infirmity? I can't complain then, I haven't been pampered like this in a long time." I say with a cheeky smile, over the years I became less self-conscious about this form and learned to appreciate how much it let me get away with. People are irredeemably shallow or rather, the Greeks had the right idea, cuteness is justice!
One would think that a noble lizard such as Terendelev would be above this shallowness, considering silver dragons are the paladins of the dragon race, but apparently not. She stammered over her words and was getting even redder, literally turning into a pepper. How cute! Such an uptight girl are the funniest ones to tease. What? In a world without the internet, I had to recourse to social interaction for entertainment. Which was more effective than one might expect, life had a way to be stranger and more chaotic than fiction. Like how a strait-laced and well-groomed half-orc woman in copper armor just so happens to enter the room unannounced, catching us both in a compromising position.
The way the two froze while staring at each other like deer caught in headlights was hilarious! The knight woman looked utterly scandalized by what she was seeing while at the same time biting her tongue – ah, she knows my true nature then; I don't know if she disapproves because of the apparent age gap, the cross-species nature of the relationship, or the fact her direct superior is seducing their savior angel in his moment of weakness. Terendelev herself felt like a kid caught with the cookie jar, I could practically see the hamster wheel spinning as she furiously thought of a way out of this.
I, of course, could make things worse. It was tempting really – I haven't had much in the way of meaningful social interaction during my time in Numeria. Alas, I haven't grown so cruel to toy with people's reputations for my amusement. So before things could escalate I simply laughed aloud at the two of them, breaking the electric tension building up. The mischievous gleam in my eyes was enough to clear the misunderstanding.
"You are really impertinent, aren't you?" Terendelev complained as she untangled herself from me and took a respectable distance. She tried to sound aggrieved by my actions but her eyes held a naked intensity and reverence that was hard to ignore – a hero is a larger-than-life existence after all. In a sense, her worshipful behavior was both justified and more than owed, yet… I held the title of 'strongest' before, but even back then I was a foreigner neck deep in a game of intrigue and simmering cold war. While I left the place bearing a legendary status, I had never seen it for myself. Numeria is much the same, no living soul knows about Unity and as long as the Divinity Drive exists I fully intend to keep things this way; Silver Mount is still a fortress, it just changed management. This means I now have to deal with the consequences of my actions for the first time in a while.
I stand up, letting the sheet covering me fall. And I seem to be naked? The two of them turned their back to me so fast one would think I was a prune Artemis, ready to tear them to pieces for their insolence. "Y-your holiness, I implore! We had to disrobe you to treat your injuries but I swear in Iomedae's name no one sullied your virtue!" The half-orc knight asks in a high-pitched voice at odds with her size, which was still better than Terendelev who was trying and failing to string coherent sentences.
Honestly, this was starting to grate me. Not that I could do anything about it, even as newly minted cultivators their nascent pneumatic sense was more than up to the task to open their eyes to the difference in standing between us. Even as a bedridden pipsqueak, my presence looms over them like a mountain so tall the peak can't even be seen. Even a dragon, a member of the supreme mortal race of the material plane is just that at the end of the day, a mortal.
Deskari would have snuffed Trendelev's life without any fanfare or preamble if not for my interference, and I delivered to Deskari his final death in flagrant violation of the laws of reality, heaven, and hell. I stood where Aroden, the living god himself, once stood. And I not only matched the Last Azlanti, but I also outperformed him! I freed Golarion from Deskari's long shadow once and for all.
Now that I bother to look, I can feel distant insolent eyes spying on me. From imperious to contemptuous, some coming from so high I could break my neck and never manage to look up enough, others from so low I could dig all my life and never reach. Regardless, I had a single answer to their transgression. I reached for the part of me marked by Rher, and pulled an opaque veil of obscurity, leading the peeping stares to crosswire with each other while I hid in plain sight. If they wanted to take my measure, they could do so for themselves. Creeps.
I reached into my shadow and pulled on cotton pants and sweater and a pair of leather sandals. I also retrieved Nature's Bounty and used it as a hairpin. Finally, I created a mantle of inconsequence with my rhetoric to pass as just another recently awoken cultivator.
"Sorry for the trouble. I am presentable now."
They reluctantly turn around, and their mind was like an open book. They were mollified I look like a lazy and unkept brat yet also somewhat mortified I would go to this extent for their sake. Terendelev composed herself first, "har har. You honor us with your magnanimous understanding of mortal limits. It's no exaggeration to say that Kenabris, perhaps Mendeve, or even Golarion was saved by your intervention. I as the defender of this city and as a crusader swear my services to you. Would this lord share his name with us?" The silver dragon says while kneeling before me, her orc friend soon follows her example.
No helping it then. I have to play the part. "Now, now. We don't need to be this formal with each other, after all my light touched your souls already. The only thing that separates you two from me is magnitude. As long as you walk the path of virtue you surely can reach the same ivory heights through exalted deeds. My name is Zagreus, would you tell me yours?"
"Irabeth," answered the female orc knight. "I am a knight commander of the garrison. We are at the Defenser's Heart, a tavern turned resistance headquarters during the fight against the demons."
"Terendelev," continued the silver dragon. "During the battle that followed I was tasked to guard this place and you from demon attacks. The hordes desired to kill the slayer of Deskari at all cost so this place became a primary target for Deskari forces."
"I understand and I am thankful for your assistance. You have questions, but first – I feel the presence of my companion from downstairs. Am I to presume that the brave fool who took my sword and set his life ablaze is downstairs?"
Both women took a worried pallor at my questioning. "Yes, indeed. The Wardstone had always been their primary target and after the defeat of their demon lord a powerful demon called Menago took matters into her own hands. She intended to corrupt the Wardstone, causing a chain reaction that would have detonated all other stones cordoning off the Worldwound. Panaka took your sword at your companion's suggestion, the one called Reila, to solve this matter."
I lifted a surprised eyebrow at the mention of Logic's human name. It is unusual for her. Although the worried stance from the two crusaders at my reaction is ill-placed. "You don't have to fear for your friend. If anything, I am worried for his sake. What kind of mother names their kid Panaka?"
My joke flies over their heads, there are some things the Shard of Babel can't convey. "Why don't we go downstairs? I am famished!"
-//-
Kenabres looks much like I had seen it before Deskari's stunt. Full of dancing drunks partying like there is no tomorrow. Then again, things indeed looked like the end of days not long ago and they were literally sharing tablets with the dead. My Einherjar warriors were happily sharing tablets with the living, I was too close to Deskari to deploy them but it did not prevent them from joining the following fight and afterparty. The most drunk among them happily greeted me as I walked down the stairs just to be stopped by their most socially aware brothers in arms. If I wanted to be known I would have appeared at my true stature.
I made a beeline to the hero of the hour. Panaka was handsome enough, with shoulder-length ginger hair, a perpetual smile, and mirthful brown eyes sparking with mischief through the scarlet light of his heart flame. Having a philosopher experience an early ignition was bad enough, but a citizen that just took his first steps in the race for divinity? It might have been his own choice to make but I was the one that offered it in the first place. I altered his course, and now I have to take responsibility.
And it seems Panaka had quite an eventful journey after falling down the underground cave complex existing below Kenabres. His soul has been sewed together with another [chaotic] soul. Their situation is similar yet altogether different from mine own after Termina. Through my heroic sense, I can see this wound on his chest connecting the two conjoined souls with… well, the Abyss.
I wouldn't even know how to explain such a thing before fighting Deskari, all my knowledge of the planes came from academic knowledge deprived of real-life experience. It was only by seeing a demon lord with my own eyes and seeing for myself how its soul differs from ordinary demons beyond mere magnitude – how they are connected to the realm they rule in the Abyss, and after I severed Deskari's soul from his, that I learned to identify it.
His connection has granted him mythical power. Well, it was the same for me after eating Hellion's soul. The result is not this self-evident because much of it was used as fuel for my soul's ascension to the 4th rank of the heroic realm. All Greek cultivators can find power in consumption, in hunger, but a [tormented] soul such as myself has a special affinity with it and humanity's most fundamental animalistic nature. This allowed me to recycle and slowly purify Deskari's demonic essence into pure power and then spread out as mythical power to my followers.
My knowledge of the Abyss is that it exists as a primordial Evil and Chaos. And while prosing about the nature of Evil can be as untractable as the nature of Virtue, the nature of Chaos, ironically enough, is a straightforward matter. To a cultivator, chaos is raw potential and the possibility, the promise, of greatness. In that sense, Order is the manifestation of one of those possibilities at the expense of all others. Any cultivator who crossed the Rubicon established their foundations, and chose a captain Virtue for himself is well aware of this process. In a sense it is simply part of growing up and leaving childhood behind.
I came to the Worldwound trying to understand how the planes could have been stitched together and now I have a miniature version of the Worldwound unceremoniously dropped in my lap.
I sighed in exasperation and walked toward the young man. Alas, someone beat me to the punch. Wearing masterfully crafted yet modest clothes, a beautiful woman in her late thirties accosts the hero of the hour. Despite being a medieval society, her face was unmistakable, monarchs can't spare expenses in propaganda. Panaka was being accosted by the Crusader Queen herself, Queen Galfrey.
It seems his display of valor didn't go unnoticed – they are saying he blew up the roof of the garrison with the blessing of the gods; and whether it was Iomedae's or mine was a hot enough topic for people to fight over it. Regardless, people were collecting the stones as holly relics and Panaka companions were serving as a cordon to ward off overly enthusiastic zealots and fans. That happens to include Logic, mounted in the tablet like a laptop.
Irabeth readily joined in on the conversation once she identified her reigning monarch. It was easy to see where the conversation was going. Queeny here is poaching Panaka for a fifth Crusade.
"I couldn't pass up the chance to meet the new hero all the crusaders are talking about. And soon, not just the crusaders." The queen said, implying a lot with what was left unsaid between worlds. In the end, her mind and heart were an open book to me. She has almost stopped believing this war could be won, she is far older than she looked, having ruled for over one hundred years. There is a mix of cautious hope and wounded pride to her actions – it seems my needling at Iomedae didn't go unnoticed after all.
"Well said! All need to get some rest, after all." Panaka says diplomatically to the queen. The boy is clear out of his element here, unsure how to port himself around royalty.
"… Because grand new deeds lie ahead. Right?" Galfrey insists, foregoing any sense of subtlety. It reached the point where the celestial touched posh friend of his was about to make a nuisance of himself. I could appreciate that but I lacked the time to play these games.
I channeled my mythical might into magnifying my gravitas and force of personality. "Or you could leave the demonic front behind in search of safer shores." Despite the melodious and velvet silk voice sweet as honey to the ears I have in this form, the backbone of steel could not be missed. All customs of the bar were drawn to the commotion.
"And who would you be, pipsqueak?" Panaka asked back, search refuge in irreverence even as his smoldering eyes were locked into a staring contest with mine own.
The Queen tried to interject by I easily spooked over her. "The fool banking the last chance anyone will ever give you, and one more than you deserve," I say while pulling at my sword, having it leap from his belt back to my hand to then return to my body as coruscant tattoo embroilment glowing under my clothes. "Leave the Worldwound and never come back. Improve this world as any mortal man can, in the small ways that matter most."
"That is a tempting proposition," Panaka answered with sarcasm. To be young and foolhardy. "Why, I feel positively titillating to jump at this offer." He says while looking at the stares of admiration and sycophants directed his way.
"How much of your life did you burn through already, half of it? And that was in what, one fight? You will burn yourself out at this rate, boy." This time my words had an effect, his companions looked worriedly at him now that the price for his actions was revealed and he lacked the bite to stand up to it as he once did. "Cast aside your suicidal ambitions, and accept the life that the gods prescribed you… or condemn yourself to accompany me to the Worldwound."
My words shocked the redhead out of his funk, an expectant look crossed his face. I had tutored enough young students to identify a maverick when I see one, his soul nature notwithstanding. Panaka is looking
for trouble. A crucible to test himself against. The heart flame behind his eyes flared to life as he held his breath in expectant anticipation.
"I irreversible altered your path so now I am taking responsibility to tutor you so you can live long enough to become a virtuous man. But know that Heaven is cruel even to those it means well. Know that you will suffer like you have never suffered before. Know that the only reward for one backbreaking labor will be another one more in turn. Know that no matter where you go, no matter who you come to be, you will always be marked by my association."
"My, my, you certainly know how to sell this. I am sure the city would be teeming with wannabe crusaders if they copied your slogan!" Panaka jests but internally he is rooked. This was the kind of call to adventure he had been searching for all his life.
"I am sorry for not living up to the hype. I am not Aroden, I don't have a magical stone to ascend you on the spot. For worthless riffraff of our ilk such grand things can't be inherited, they can only be taken. Consign yourself for never-ending ascension, you will either seize divinity with your own hands or leave a story worth hearing about after you die trying."
"Now that is cheating! I am not in the habit of chickening out just when things are about to get good. There is no way I am backing down now!" My new protégé says while extending his hand.
It's as I suspected, this boy is trouble. I am so regretting that! Even so, I shake his hand, sealing the deal. And the peanut gallery went wild.
-//-
So, I messed up. Apparently, this Iomedae bears the title of the Inheritor, so for the second time, I unintentionally called her out in public. The truth is that I have little interest in the 'ascended', Aroden on the other hand seems to be everywhere so I focused on him; I mean, her greatest feat, passing the trial of the Star Stone, was matched by a drunk and a serial killer.
Ironic then that my rotten luck worked in my favor for once. My public declaration to deal with the Worldwound after my definitive victory over Deskari, outperforming Aroden and stealing Iomedae's thunder, has lit a fire in the goddess's fan club. I turned the Worldwound from an existential threat into a holy race. So this is what failing up feels like?
The important thing is that conscripts flocked to Kenabres to be part of this fifth crusade in numbers not seen since the first crusade, when people still thought the Worldwound could be beaten. Well, I still stand for what I said to my children. The Worldwound is too big a problem for a single hero to solve. I will need an army, and I am afraid my dragon bone warriors won't cut it this time.
The very land of Sarkoris has been tainted by the Abyss. Yet the Abyss itself can be tamed. Demon Lords can shape part of the Abyss they claim as their own to their liking. It's not a unique feature from the Abyss either in this regard, much like the First World of the fey the Abyss is a realm of protean chaos, being notoriously more malleable than the other Realms. If powerful enough entities can impose their will on the First World then why not on the Abyss?
It seems I am destined to walk the Conqueror's path far earlier than intended. Well, to begin with, the separation between the realms isn't as airtight as people would like to believe. The irony that I following in the footsteps of my senior brother in Orphic faith isn't lost to me either. And considering what I know about the god who conquered and ruled the holy city of Ma'habre, Dionysian-like mysteries are ideal for any conqueror – an army march in its stomach and I can grow food at will with my green thumb, I learned enough about druidic magic to create arboreal golems in case an undead labor force were to be frowned upon, I even have the ideal survival kit for traveling in dangerous wilds!
All Greater Mystery Cults have their own little idiosyncrasies that set them apart from each other despite the uniformity derived from cultivating in the same style. One such particularity stems from Orpheus's Orphic Hymn to Dionysus where the god is given the epithet of Protogonos, he was considered both the father of the fertility god Priapus and also the incarnation of the primordial Priapus.
It is not something I like to talk about because, you know? I am a fifty-two-year-old man with adult children, not a fifteen-year-old boy. Tsumiki is having perpetual headaches due to the ties her Raging Heaven Cult has to the entertainment industry, positioning it a stone's throw away from to Japanese porn industry. The cosmetic of cultivation already pushes even the plainest and ugliest person above any mortal soul, and Dionysus's
Pseudanor aspect goes both ways, compounding an already precarious situation. The long shadow of Priapus's poor reputation hangs as an ever-present threat over the new Raging Heaven Cult. Only Megumi's non-nonsense attitude has kept it afloat every time a cult member goes overboard or decides to make some easy money with a pseudonym on the back of the cult. Detractors on the internet say this was my greatest blessing to Japan are the least of my children's worries. Sects are institutions that live or die by their reputation, and Priapus has been a joke since the era of the city-states.
Then again, I myself have never met a talking donkey I didn't want to kill and then taxidermize in retribution for their insolence. So who am I to criticize? Priapus has been an object of mockery to ancient Greeks and Romans, true. But Dionysus has always been a champion for those pushed to the fringes of society even before that. That is why I asked Megumi and Tsumiki to keep this in mind, the core members had their humanity stripped once by Mahito, it's no wonder they would resort to extreme outlets. Fortitude is the motto of the wine-dark children of raging heaven, be it mental or physical. Let the outside world think what it will. And these two never disappoint, it's easy to forget both had a life before me as abandoned children. They understood what it means to not belong anywhere and be unwanted wherever you go. It seems the Raging Heaven cult has become a true family.
That is why despite Priapus being regarded as something of a joke by urban dwellers, he was highly respected as a countryside guardian deity. In Greece, the phallus was thought of as having a mind of its own, animal-like, separate from the mind and control of the man. That is why a smaller member was seen as more civilized. Yet this same trait granted him affinity to navigating uncharted and dangerous wilds and waters, making him a patron to merchants, sailors, fishermen, and those who subsist on the untamed nature.
The fact this is the only known countermeasure to Infinite Void once you are hit by it shows its value. It prevented me from being stun-locked by Gojo's Domain Expansion as the 'lower head' takes charge once the higher one is incapacitated. It's no laughing matter… ok, it kind of is. But Gojo wasn't laughing the first time I used it. Mostly because I turned him into a donut. As in, he was drowning in his own blood.
And as it happens, the phallus is also associated with "possession and territorial demarcation". The life aspect of the [Wheel Turning] has a heavy association with transmutation, something I familiarized myself with during my pursuit of the Philosopher's Stone. The followers of Alexander, the Conqueror, often refer to his ongoing campaign as the spinning of the wheel. This connotation clearly refers to the wheels of a chariot, wherever Alexander went he was its new master and overlord, subjugating everything in his path. Yet considering he was the one who built the Orphic House with his own hands out of broken wagons and this happened during his early campaign… well, a junior brother owes to honor their seniors. Right?
I might not know the specifics of Macedonian cultivation, their Course of Honors, but Roman culture was obsessed with the guy. I don't have the time to refine all those flocking under my banner through the path of the philosopher and the Champion is a fundamentally solitary path, but the path of the Conqueror? I might have to hard carry them for a while but this might just work.
Ah, I can already hear Gojo throwing a hissy fit. It's not like I shied away from demonstrating how starlight marrow could be used to make a crow out of a man. How to seize someone in hand and utterly break them down and make them a prisoner inside their own body. Rendering them less than what they were. A shadow, dancing to the tune of the one who cast it. There is no sugarcoating it, they might not bear iron manacles but crows still are slaves. During my time in Japan I only ever used it on the worst of the curse users during the direst situations. But I never regretted it either.
At least my enemies will be literally demons. This is unambiguously good versus evil as it can get. And I will need it since I am still getting complains from India to this day!
-//-
[AUTHOR'S ROOM]
Yeah, this is the official start of the WRATH OF THE RIGHTEOUS campaign. I sort of skipped the tutorial, next chapter Zagreus will meet most of the iconic companions, by which I mean Ember, Daeran, Nenio, Lann, and Woljif. Regill and Arueshalae will join later on but I have to keep a lid on the number of cast members. We don't have the luxury of a generic SI main character, after all. But Panaka is clearly bound to the trickster life. A Brazilian star wars inside joke, that name.
I also have been wanting to explore the Conqueror aspect of the Orphic house for a while. Undead minions are no fun, after all. Zagreus is going full Iskandar, terraforming the Worldwound as his armies march picking every vagrant he finds in his way and turning them into fierce cultivators. Let's hope he doesn't leave while naming his successor "the strongest".
