The heavenly pressure was finally giving in, but it was too late. Golden lightning crackled across Ogras's unmoving body while a spiritual pressure made the whole square groan. The cracks grew deeper until his head snapped and fell to the ground. The tribulation didn't care and continued its assault for another minute before dissipating.
Ogras slowly rose from the shadows of his shattered self, exhaling as his dummy dissipated with the wind.
"Out with the old," Ogras grinned.
A manageable amount of lightning crackled through his body, tempering his flesh and soul. It would probably linger a while longer, so Ogras looked around. The comforting shade had returned, replacing the overbearing presence of the Ruthless Heavens. His shadowy servants were also gone, becoming the first casualties in his fight against fate.
Most importantly, his flag, while scorched, remained in one piece. It was still crackling with lightning more ferocious than himself, which elicited a snicker. He almost wanted to activate the thing to hear the little bastard's screams. No, there was no point in tempting fate like that. The Ruthless Heaven was undoubtedly still close by.
Seeing that the situation was stable, Ogras turned his sight inward. There it waited, a shimmering orb of untold possibility. The next moment, it was gone, but Ogras didn't panic. A wide smile spread across his face as he saw his Shadowmirage Core reappear. It worked. He'd been worried his plan was a fool's hope, especially when his core lacked its current properties during the formation.
He'd carried that hesitance for years, wondering if he was deluding himself. Could something created during his bouts of amnesia really be trusted? But he'd decided to bet on himself, or rather his other self. If Zac dared to aim for such a paradoxical core while being a mortal, how could he back down from creating a core that was both fake and real?
But even if it was real, could he trust its source?
He'd long been worried it was K'Rav that whispered in his ears during the blank periods he'd endured since visiting that glacier. But he'd realized the truth by this point. The illusory treasure had created a schism in the depths of his mind, and the creatures trapped within his body had eventually figured out how to use it to communicate. Or perhaps merge, since his own psyche seemed to be one of the voices.
He'd been able to suppress the bouts when he only had Asshole in his body, but he was outnumbered by this point. He could only delay it for a couple of days now. It was enough to find a safe spot, but Ogras worried about its implications for the future. Would he become the illusion and the fused spirits become real if he kept going down this path?
It was even weirder that the spirits seemed to be helping him. He'd been sure their almost incomprehensible scribbles were a trap. Ogras certainly would have done everything in his power to escape if he ever found himself in the same situation as the three creatures sealed by the [Spiritlock Physique]. And if that failed, make both sides go out in a blaze of glory.
Rasata's notes weren't any help either—there were no mentions of communication with your Spiritlock Avatars. However, the suggestions didn't clash with the original ideas born from Ultom's insight. If anything, they brought out the true value of the mysterious light. Adding the Dreamgeist, especially, drastically improved the proposals. But the biggest contributor was still himself.
Ogras almost hated his shadowy half for the inspired ideas he jotted down in those short moments. Why couldn't he just get them in his normal state? Did that guy steal all his comprehension? Ogras shrugged. Whatever. He might not have a full handle on the situation, but he understood enough to make some decisions. If you assumed everyone was scheming against you, you'd be ready for anything. Their goal might be to possess his body, but he was making plans on his own. Until then, he'd accept their gifts, turning them into one of his secret sources of strength.
And the result was definitely good. The Heavenly Lightning had been the catalyst needed to kickstart his creation. A core at the threshold of reality was undeniably the best fit with his unique constitution. Any enemy who thought they'd pierced his core and crippled his cultivation would be in for a rude surprise when they realized it had no effect.
There was a shift in his surroundings, and Ogras's spear appeared in his hand as he swirled around. He soon relaxed, realizing it was just a shimmering crystal that had already appeared without warning. Ogras's eyes gleamed with anticipation as he walked over. It was time to see if his hard work was enough to reach the destination.
Core Formation Successful
Design: 11% unique.
Imperfections: Flawless (3-9).
Evaluation: High Quality, B-grade Energy Capacity, A-grade Potential, A-grade level of Innovation.
Ogras had expected to see a list of classes and was surprised he got a report card instead. Only 11% uniqueness even after he created the thing from scratch, using the truths of Ultom as the foundation? Ogras shrugged after some thought, not bothered by the low number. He knew that the fusion of Shadows and Illusions wasn't anything unique. You could randomly throw a rock into a gaggle of assassins and hit someone with a similar path.
But so what? Unique didn't mean strong, and common didn't mean weak. Furthermore, the Cosmic Core was only one part of your path. And it couldn't be too bad if the Ruthless Heaven felt it warranted an A-grade level of innovation. But he did briefly wonder what was needed for A-grade. 5%? 10%? Either case, Zac must have gotten S-grade with his weird creation.
He was much more interested in the other aspects. His core looked incredible, but seeing that he'd reached High Quality in one go was a huge relief. Ogras was just one step short of the Peak, paving the path for Monarchy. He'd definitely made the right decision staying an additional two years, even if he felt mostly ready to advance for a while. Without the added Mana and planning, he probably would only have reached Middle Quality.
The energy capacity wasn't stellar, but Ogras had already been aware of that when creating his blueprint. But his path wasn't one of endurance. What was the point of a large pool when you either finished the job in one strike or ran for your life? The extremely rapid energy transmission it was capable of was far more useful. If anything, B-grade was better than expected.
Ogras snickered upon thinking of the elders back home. The main branch had celebrated for six straight months when the Fourth Elder broke through, inviting the whole capital to a feast. Such a commotion over a lump of garbage that left the old goat stuck at level 153. What would those scheming halfwits think if they saw him now? With a swing of his spear, the whole council would be punched full of holes.
He shook his head, dispelling his fantasy of a glorious return. One day, he would slap all those deceitful faces before taking his grandpa away, but his fate with Azh'Rezak and the Horde had already been severed. He couldn't forget that his circumstances had changed. What was an earth-shattering accomplishment back home wasn't worth mentioning in the circles he ran lately. Whatever core the black-eyed lass created two months ago was bound to be equally impressive.
She'd been making improvements until the end, just like he. Ogras might have one more seal piece under his belt and enjoyed the benefits of buddying up with a walking treasure magnet for longer, but Catheya was a little princess. Her dad was a Late-Stage Monarch and her Master was even stronger—their starting position wasn't the same.
Today, Ogras felt he'd closed the gap to all the heaven-kissed brats who thought themselves better because they won the cosmic birthright lottery. His anticipation grew as he waited for the real prize. Then, it was there.
[Option 1]
Name: [D-Epic] Rehiphem's Vengeance.
Fixed Attributes: Dexterity +300 / 450 / 600, Wisdom: +150 / 225 / 300.
Free Attributes: +100 / 150 / 200.
Forgotten, hidden. Returned with a vengeance.
[Option 2]
Name: [D-Epic] Nightmare's Requiem
Fixed Attributes: Dexterity +150 / 225 / 300, Intelligence +100 / 150 / 200, Wisdom +250 / 375 / 500.
Free Attributes: +50 / 75 / 100.
A beguiling song, a beautiful dream. All a lie.
[Option 3]
Name: [D-Arcane] Shadewar Sovereign
Fixed Attributes: Dexterity +250 / 375 / 500, Intelligence +100 / 150 / 200, Wisdom +250 / 375 / 500.
Free Attributes: +50 / 75 / 100.
Ruler of none, master of all.
Ogras's hands shook as he reached the final line, a storm sweeping away everything else. Who cared about the old tale of Rehiphem, the advisor of the ancient Gods? Who cared about nightmares? He'd done it. He'd actually done it. Ogras's eyes couldn't help but mist over as his mind drifted back to his journey over the years.
It had all started that day. He'd held his hand against a Nexus Node very much like right now, trying to take control over the small island kingdom after taking out all the competition. Back then, he'd been shut out, deemed unworthy, and he'd been swept up in Zac's path just minutes later.
Today, it felt like the gates to the Heavens themselves had opened wide to let him in as a testament to his struggle. He was not just a hanger-on anymore. He was lowly born but had seized the providence of a sovereign.
A movement shattered his beautiful dream, but a confident smile appeared on the demon's face as he calmed his raging emotions.
"Ai, it's finally over," a wretched voice emerged from the scorched pit. "The Ruthless Heavens, indeed. I can't believe some lunatic created that thing. Makes our experiments seem tame in comparison."
"You would have gotten there eventually if you didn't destroy yourself first," Ogras commented, his voice slightly hoarse. "Did it work?"
"Yes," K'Rav grunted as he appeared.
Golden lightning crackled across the goblin's spiritual body, and his aura was erratic. But the goblin had passed his tribulation just as Ogras had.
"Hurt like one of the Four Fell Brews of Potioneer He'Zar, but the path has been created."
"So now we just need to fill you up before subverting darkness and light."
"When are things ever so simple?" K'Rav snickered. "Fooling the Heavens isn't so easy, and I doubt this new-fangled overlord is a fool. You want to turn the fell Karma of the [Shadewar Flag] into an illusion, but the souls will resist becoming subordinate Tool Spirits. It's against nature."
"That's why I have you, isn't it?" Ogras lazily said. "Work hard on motivating the recruits. The better they align with our plan, the easier it should be."
"You want me to reason with a bunch of mindless vengeful spirits?" K'Rav scoffed.
"Whatever," Ogras shrugged. "If things go south, I'll just throw you into a spatial tear and wash my hands of the whole situation."
"Little bastard, some things are not so easily erased," K'Rav snickered. "You've got the mark of the Ra'Lashar all over you. Our fates are inextricably linked."
Ogras didn't bother arguing. He and the goblin had their plans and fallbacks. Only time could tell who would walk away in the end. For now, their purposes were aligned, at least at a surface level.
He turned back to the Nexus Node, having already made his choice. What was there even to think about? If the Heavens gave you a treasure, you wouldn't look for baubles on the ground. Streaks of power entered his body, setting the foundation for his pathways.
"What an innovative way of cultivation. Classes, ranks. All neat and tidy, controlled by an eternal overlord," K'Rav sighed, studying the Nexus Node with interest before observing the changes within Ogras's body. "I'm not sure I like it, though. It all feels very restrictive."
"Yeah, well. You, if anyone, should know that unfettered freedom has a price," Ogras countered. "And it creates opportunities. Without the Ruthless Heavens, I would never have left my home world. I would either have wasted my life at the threshold of cultivation or gotten killed by one of my cousins."
"Yeah, I guess a little ingrate like you came out ahead," K'Rav shrugged. "So we done here?"
"We're done here," Ogras agreed as he stowed the [Shadewar Flag] in his sleeve. "The war has already started. We can't let the others have all the fun."
"War," K'Rav grinned. "It's been a while."
It was as though Ogras's proclamation had triggered a hidden array as the familiar bubble sprung up around him. He was filled with anticipation for his return as he streaked through the endless cosmos. Was this finally his chance to make that monster look at him with shock and some jealousy?
Suddenly, Ogras felt a powerful pull, and he groaned with pain when his pod was forcibly dragged into a pitch-black hole. His eyes were wide with panic, but there was no time to think. A gleaming dagger was piercing right at his forehead, and his body moved on instinct. Fake became real, and shadows became true as Ogras avoided the ambush while unleashing an attack on his own.
Ogras didn't care who this shadow was or how they'd ended up in this dark basement—protecting his little life took priority. But the enemy's dagger almost felt alive, continuing toward his forehead with unerring precision. Ogras was aghast to find that no matter how many times he subverted his position or how many layers of feints he used, the dagger only drew closer.
How was this possible?! The shrouded assassin was clearly only at Late E-grade. Ogras decisively shifted his main body into one of the shadows he'd already sent in every direction, escaping through a crack in the wall. Why should he risk his life fighting that guy? There were far too many suspicious points about the situation for him to stick around.
Shadows passed through the cracks in the ground, moving thousands of meters in no time. But an isolating force exhausted his shadows, making it harder and harder to move. Finally, Ogras had no choice but to go up, but his heart lurched upon realizing he was somehow back in that same room. The shadowy assassin only looked at him, his aura still at the Late E-grade. Even then, Ogras was filled with a fatal danger.
"Not too bad, I gue—Alright, enough."
Ogras found his true form dragged out of the shadows after a second failed escape, and his whole body was suddenly locked in place by a monstrous killing intent. He knew that any tricks or movements meant utter death. This was not something an E-grade cultivator could emit. Or a Monarch, for that matter. Ogras knew there was trouble when his return journey was interrupted, but he'd hoped it was a cosmic hiccup rather than the machinations of an old monster.
Where was Zac's Luck when you needed it? Or was this what his life was like?
"Little eel, try to escape again, and I'll sever your shadows."
"I'm sorry senior," Ogras said with an ingratiating smile. "I was just shocked by the sudden changes. I did not realize such an esteemed figure had called upon me. What can this lowly one do for sir?"
"Glib," the assassin scoffed. "As I said. Not bad, but you're lacking in skill and experience. More importantly, you lack ruthlessness. Against your enemy but especially against yourself. Fearing for your life is natural, but it's poison to your momentum. Only by becoming death can you deliver death."
"Of course, of course," Ogras eagerly nodded while trying to understand what in the nine hells was going on.
"I'm not sure what dogshit luck you have, but the Lord of the Perennial Vastness sent you to me for training," the shadow continued. "Seeing as he didn't make things difficult for me after I failed to kill him all those years ago, I guess I owe him one."
Ogras was initially confused, but he quickly understood what was going on. Even if his core was good, it wasn't good enough for an ancient existence like the Lord of the Perennial Vastness to make any special arrangements. He'd been curious and expectant after hearing Zac share his experience in… Where was it? Why couldn't he remember? Ogras shook his head, realizing his memories had already been sealed. But he knew one thing.
It was him, again.
Ogras sighed, knowing his Karmic Debt had only grown larger. He didn't know what Zac had done to send him here, but he knew it was an unimaginable opportunity if he managed to grab onto it. Someone with the guts to target the Perennial Vastness had to be unimaginably strong. Or unimaginably stupid, but those people rarely lived for too long.
"Senior, I am in your care," Ogras quickly said.
"Promise or not, you're too weak," the shadow offhandedly said.
"Ah?"
"I expected that undying thing to send over some unique little monster, but you don't have the qualifications to withstand my teachings. Your mind would break, and your body would tear if you tried to forcibly learn my abilities," the shadow said. "But I'll give you a chance to shore up your lacking foundation. It might not be enough to let you contend with the strongest of your generation, but it'll be a step in the right direction.
"However, it'll be dangerous. Say the word, and I'll send you on back home instead, and I'll consider my debt paid."
A flash of fear gripped Ogras's heart. If this scary guy said it would be dangerous, then it meant he wanted to send him through the gates of hell. What good was the promise of power if you were dead? No, he couldn't always back down on this one.
Being meticulous and careful was virtuous, but being too afraid to bet on your future was not. If he backed down today, there would be a similar situation tomorrow. At most, he'd just die. It was bound to happen sooner or later when following that walking calamity.
"I'm willing."
"Good. Long ago, I founded a little group of brothers called the Red Hand Society. I don't really bother with the organization anymore, but they'll come in handy this time. I left them a unique realm that's used to train their more promising candidates nowadays. I'll give you an identity as a Faceless Shadow and send you inside. I'll pluck you out after a year. You should be strong enough to learn a few of my moves if you're still alive by that point."
"Oh, I went ahead and sealed that thing in your sleeve. It's pretty interesting, but I feel it would get in the way of your training."
The sudden shifts and turns only let Ogras nod in agreement before he found himself pulled into another vortex. Just as the gate to the nondescript cellar was about to close, Ogras heard the parting words of the mysterious assassin.
"Of course, if you're strong enough to not just survive but to conquer, then there's no better place to find an army for your flag."
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