FLESH AND SECRETS

©2025 FIZZICKS

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Also by Fizzicks

Cultist of Cerebon

Flesh and Magic

Flesh and Secrets

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Chapter 1

While the effects of non-physical stats tended to be more subtle than those of their physical counterparts, the strange effect that high Willpower had on dreams was quite obvious.

Although Willpower tended to make a person need less sleep, it also made a person more likely to find themselves aware that they were dreaming when they did sleep. Many people had mixed feelings about that feature of the stat, but Zareth was quite fond of it.

His dreams… tended to be unpleasant more often than not.

They commonly featured some of his worst moments in the Sunrise Slums, such as the brief famine that took place when he was eight years old. Even he, a person who was mentally an adult, had found it nearly impossible to endure the relentless grip of hunger and helplessness. He had seen more corpses in that year than in any other period of his life, as he frequently stumbled upon people who had collapsed in empty alleys only to never rise again.

Sometimes he dreamt about that fateful day when he’d been beaten within an inch of his life and thrown out of the Phantom Scorpions; the suffocating sense of betrayal causing him just as much pain as his broken bones.

Zareth wasn’t able to stop these nightmares from happening, but they were much easier for him to deal with when he actually knew that none of it was real.

It was only because of this peculiar perk of Willpower that Zareth was relatively prepared to handle the occasional visions that he’d begun to experience after becoming an [Atavistic Apostle], due to the Crowning skill that came with it.

Atavistic Insight – Grants the Apostle an intuitive proficiency in deciphering lost knowledge, along with visions that guide them to unearth hidden secrets. +3 Spirit. +3 Willpower. +3 Control.

Zareth must have studied the skill’s description half a dozen times by now, but the text was frustratingly vague when it came to the specifics of what it did. He was happy with the skill overall, especially given his lack of nightmares and the significant stat boost that came with it, but he just wished he had a bit more guidance.

After all, suddenly waking up in a library littered with the scattered corpses of robed lizardkin was more than a little disorienting, especially when you had almost no context for what was happening.

The only other living occupant in the library was a female naga dressed in ornate white robes who was furiously slithering around the building and searching through the books. Whenever she failed to find what she was looking for, the naga would snarl and throw the books to the ground before continuing to the next shelf.

What I wouldn’t give to go back to having the normal dreams of my first life, Zareth thought nostalgically as he studied his surroundings. Life was better when the worst thing I saw after going to bed was a horde of angry cats chasing me for sterilizing them.

At the very least, this vision already promised to be far more interesting than the only other vision that he’d experienced over the first month of possessing his new class.

It had involved watching some ancient lizardkin ceremony from afar, the significance of which was lost on him.

Aside from that, Zareth sometimes also found himself hearing the unintelligible whispers of a feminine voice attempting to draw his attention. Suffice to say, [Atavistic Insight] was a bit more vague and unhelpful so far than he’d wished, which was why Zareth hoped that this vision would be different.

Unfortunately, Zareth wasn’t able to see much that would indicate what this vision was attempting to show him. He could tell from the naga’s robes that she was likely a priestess of Suhail, God of Sun and Sand, and that they were somewhere in the Qahtani Desert region, given that the books were written in ancient Nephalan script.

Unable to glean anything more from the scene alone, Zareth decided to focus on the naga priestess and follow her through the library, as she was clearly the cornerstone of the vision.

Zareth soon noticed that she was speaking to herself under her breath in the naga language of Seshani. He wouldn’t normally be able to comprehend what she was saying, but some odd property of the vision allowed him to understand the sibilant words.

“Where did those damned lizards hide it?” the naga priestess mumbled, her tone a mixture of anger and growing desperation as she slithered through rows of bookcases.

The urgency in her movements and the occasional glances toward the entrance suggested to Zareth that she was expecting pursuers, most likely other lizardkin like those scattered lifelessly around the library.

Nearly a minute later, Zareth’s assumption was proven correct when another naga rushed into the room, and the startled priestess immediately threw a stream of white flames in their direction. The new arrival, a lithe male naga wearing dark blue robes, cursed and conjured a shimmering barrier of iridescent light as the priestess quickly cut off her attack.

If Zareth hadn’t already recognized the robes, then the barrier would have been enough to reveal the naga as a priest of Sarqalim, God of the Twilight Moon.

“Damn it, Ayesha. You’re meant to be destroying the books, not me!” said the male naga as he dismissed the barrier.

The female naga, Ayesha, sneered as she returned to her work. “I thought you were one of the lizards. We have little time before they regroup and hunt us down. If you don’t want that to happen, then I suggest you help me find the tome, Jazan.”

“You still haven’t found it?” asked Jazan, his expression one of surprise as he joined in on the search.

Zareth watched as the two naga scoured the library in an increasingly frantic manner until Jazan suddenly paused and reached toward one of the tomes that Ayesha had previously thrown on the ground.

“Here, I think this is it,” Jazan said excitedly as he opened the tome and began flipping through its pages. “It was hidden by some strange System magic that made it difficult to realize what it was, but Lord Sarqalim granted me the clarity to see through it.”

Zareth walked over to the naga and took a good look at the tome, hoping that he could get some context as to what he was supposed to learn from the vision. It was difficult to make out its contents based on a few short glimpses of each page, but he did notice several mentions of the Etherveil along with mentions of various landmarks corresponding with locations in the western side of the Qahtani Desert.

“Hmph. System magic? Then it seems like they’re adapting,” Ayesha said with a hint of disdain as she took the tome and began looking through it herself. With a nod of satisfaction, she closed the tome before looking up at Jazan with a steely determination. “This is it. This tome contains everything that the Nephalans knew about the Kethr’syssen.”

Zareth scowled in annoyance as the vision suddenly failed to translate what was likely the most important word that he had heard in it so far. Something similar had happened during his first vision when the lizardkin leading the ritual spoke an untranslatable term that Rizok later revealed was used to describe a particular insect.

Apparently, its shell was once used in a wide variety of ceremonies until it went extinct. Likewise, Kethr’syssen was likely a word that couldn’t be translated either due to not having an equivalent in modern Nephalan or because it referred to something that no longer existed.

Rather than taking the tome and leaving, Zareth was surprised when Ayesha threw it onto the ground before conjuring a stream of white flames from her hand that set it and several bookshelves ablaze. Once the tome had been turned completely to ash, Ayesha finished setting fire to every corner of the library before turning back to her compatriot.

“Take us from this place before our enemies arrive,” Ayesha commanded, her voice urgent as the sound of shouts and rapidly approaching footsteps grew louder.

Jazan nodded before he started chanting in a rhythmic manner, most likely in preparation for a teleportation spell. Zareth had never actually seen that kind of magic before and heard that it was supposedly incredibly rare, so he was quite interested in witnessing it firsthand.

However, Zareth was shocked when something entirely unexpected happened instead.

“Wait. Lord Sarqalim says that we’re being watched,” said Jazan, stopping his casting and looking around with a confused expression. “We cannot allow anyone to know what knowledge we were here to destroy.”

Zareth was confused at first, unsure about what the naga was talking about since he couldn’t see anyone else in the library. That changed when Jazan’s eyes suddenly began glowing with a pale silvery light and turned directly toward him. Astonished, Zareth barely had enough time to consider the absurdity of what was happening before the male naga raised his hand and unleashed a beam of light in his direction.

Zareth awoke with a start, eyes wide as his multiple hearts pounded fiercely in his chest, his tendrils extending from his body in preparation to defend against an attack that was no longer there. The faint burning sensation along his chest caused Zareth to look down to see a much larger body than he was used to and several bony protrusions that seemed to be slightly charred.

It took a moment for him to understand what was happening, but Zareth eventually realized that he had instinctively shifted into a more defensive form in his sleep. [Template Body] was one of the skills that he had decided to use a Skill Point to acquire, and he had immediately added the augmentation templates that he’d designed for the military to it.

Note to self. Don’t underestimate gods, Zareth thought with a lingering sense of unease as his breathing calmed, and he shifted his body back to its usual form. Utterly ridiculous. How does something like that even make sense?

As he got up from his bed and walked over to the desk where he’d left his notebook, Zareth couldn’t help but wonder if nightmares might end up being preferable if visions risked being that intense. By the time he had finished writing down the details of his vision in English so that nobody but him could read it, Zareth had relaxed enough to focus on the implications of what he’d seen.

Making his way over to the bookshelf in the corner of the room, Zareth’s eyes drifted past the few books on history and magical biology that he’d been able to acquire before landing on a Seshani to Nephalan dictionary. Given that he lived in a city ruled by naga, it seemed like a useful purchase at the time, and he was glad to see that he’d been right.

“Let’s see here. Kethr’syssen… Kethr’syssen…” Zareth murmured to himself as he flipped through the dictionary and brought it to his desk.

While he wasn’t able to find the exact translation for the work, he did discover that Kethr meant something along the lines of nexus or junction while Syssen was the naga word for magic.

I suppose this means that I’ll need to consult with a [Mage] or a [Historian] if I want to understand what this means, Zareth thought with a hint of disappointment.

When he had chosen [Atavistic Apostle] as his Class Evolution, Zareth had perhaps underestimated how frustrating researching ancient knowledge would actually be. He had already encountered multiple dead ends while studying the tome of Meldorath, and Zareth could tell that it would take significant time before he managed to discover something useful.

Still, this latest vision involved the actions of the Conclave during a time period that was likely shortly after the System came into being. Zareth’s instincts told him that this line of investigation had the potential to reveal something truly consequential.

It’s not something that I’ve looked into before, but the Conclave’s strongest presence has always been centered around cities to the west, Zareth thought as he wrote down his theories. Are they trying to find something? Hide something?”

Unable to reach a conclusion on his own, Zareth put away his dictionary and notebook before deciding to go through his morning routine. He had a busy day ahead of him, so he couldn’t afford to waste much time speculating alone. He would bring the matter up with Rizok when the soldier returned to the spire, since he knew far more about this world than Zareth.

After getting himself some breakfast from the spire’s kitchen, Zareth quickly made his way to one of the largest and busiest rooms on the lowest floor. Inside, Vidhatri and the [Cultists] were all hard at work augmenting the most recent batch of soldiers sent over by High Command.

While the [Cultists] who had already acquired [Permanent Flesh Manipulation] were at work, those that hadn’t were constantly ferrying clumps of biomass from a giant pile of meat on the other side of the room. Meanwhile, a row of soldiers stood off to the side, each waiting for their own enhancements.

Vidhatri was clearly the one doing the most of the work, a wide grin on her face as six unnaturally elongated arms stretched out as she simultaneously augmented several soldiers who appeared slightly traumatized.

It hadn’t been long since Zareth presented his augmentation templates to the military, and they had gone through a thorough round of testing. The result was that High Command immediately began sending a steady stream of their soldiers to undergo the process. General Nasrith wanted a certain number of soldiers augmented before launching his imminent offensive against the enemy coalition’s forces, so it was an all-hands-on-deck situation for his cult.

It was truly fortunate that Vidhatri had arrived and was more than happy to assist; otherwise, he doubted that they would be able to keep up. Zareth could tell with a quick glance that a few of the [Cultists] were dangerously close to suffering from skill exhaustion, so he decided to step in to help out.

While he couldn’t keep up with Vidhatri, he had enough Willpower to pick up the slack for quite a while.

“Go ahead and take a break, Tamir,” Zareth said as he put a hand on the boy’s shoulder before glancing at the young ogre next to him. “You as well, Nog. I’ll take care of things from here. Thanks for waking up so early for this.”

Tamir and Nog both expressed their gratitude before shuffling off, leaving Zareth to handle the soldiers they had been working on. After opening his third eye, Zareth was suddenly able to see everything inside the bodies of the soldiers, from their internal organs to their skeletal structure to the complex network of nerves and blood vessels that hid just beneath the surface.

After spending a Skill Point to upgrade his third eye, all of his perception skills—[Flesh Perception], [Magic Perception], and [Devotion Perception]—had been consolidated into [Eye of Cerebon] and had become noticeably more powerful. According to Vidhatri, those kinds of perception skills tended to consolidate into something like [Sixth Sense] or [Comprehensive Perception], so the result was a surprise to both of them.

“Good morning, Senior Fleshwarper. How many more soldiers do we need to augment today?” asked Zareth as he moved toward the soldier and began forming redundant copies of their organs. “High Command has made it explicitly clear that they need us to keep on schedule.”

“So long as our supply of biomass remains sufficient, I will not rest until the Weaver of Sinews gifts have been spread as widely as possible!” Vidhatri loudly responded, her four eyes burning with fervor as she deftly manipulated the flesh before her. “I’ve rarely been able to so freely grant our god’s gifts to outsiders, especially with so few of them screaming at my touch.”

Zareth’s polite smile faltered for a moment as every soldier in the room shared unsettled expressions. He’d tried at one point to talk to the shivarath about the importance of public perception and received a vague acknowledgment in return… but the zealous woman was clearly too excited to remember what they’d discussed.

Thankfully, there seemed to be another matter that Vidhatri wanted to talk about that suitably distracted her.

“Where is your heathen guard, Apostle Zareth?” Vidhatri asked, a strange expression briefly crossing her face. “Our most recent sparring match was quite violent, so I would not blame him if he needs time to recover. Should he require healing, I could be convinced to assist.”

Zareth wasn’t quite certain if Vidhatri’s tone was as suggestive as his mind made it out to be, but also wasn’t sure if he wanted to know.

“Rizok should be back in an hour or so,” Zareth lied as he waved off the lizardkin soldier and moved on to a young female ogre who High Command had assigned to receive the Bulwark template. “It’s not as if he can stay by my side at all hours of the day.”

In truth, Rizok was currently off meeting with the Tessik, which was the name of his secret lizardkin and loosely translated to “The Keepers.”

Part of the cooperation agreement that Zareth had settled on with them involved the Tessik compiling all the information they could gather that was relevant to his cult, which Rizok was currently receiving.

Going out and meeting with them personally was far too risky, so Rizok would brief him directly in the spire once he returned. It was difficult to overstate just how important information was to Zareth given how political his life had become. Which was why he’d decided to wait until he had the full picture before making any definitive plans for his cult.

Zareth spent the next few hours assisting Vidhatri with the augmentations, occasionally taking a break as they processed nearly a hundred soldiers before they were done for the day. Since a lot depended on his cult making a big impression during the upcoming offensive, he was dedicating most of his time to aiding the army and completing the augmentations.

Even to the point of overextending himself and getting a splitting headache due to skill exhaustion.

“Well done, Apostle Zareth. Our god will certainly be pleased with this offering,” Vidhatri said, her arms snapping back into normal proportions as the final soldier left the room, a hint of weariness in her expression. “I still do not agree with your decision to deny your followers the rapture of a proper sacrifice, but I can see how your methods have their own merit.”

Zareth rubbed his temple, wishing that the shivarath would speak just a little bit softer.

“I’m glad to hear that. It’s good that you’re adjusting to how things work in Tal’Qamar,” said Zareth, genuinely grateful that he probably wouldn’t need to worry about Vidhatri running out into the city and ritualistically sacrificing one of the cult’s enemies. “If there isn’t anything requiring your attention, I’d appreciate some assistance with one of my projects in the laboratory as well as some advice on how to spend my final Skill Point.”

Zareth had found himself with four Skill Points when he’d earned his Class Evolution, as he’d already had one saved prior and the System awarded him three more when he reached that milestone. He already had an idea of how he wanted to use the final one, but it was always a good idea to seek the opinions of more experienced people whenever possible.

“Of course. I am always available to help with such matters,” Vidhatri said decisively before turning to the [Cultists] still in the room. “Our evening lessons will be postponed until tomorrow. Rest and replenish yourselves, because you all have much work still ahead of you.”

A unified wince passed through the remaining [Cultists] at Vidhatri’s command, but none of them dared voice any complaints. She had amply demonstrated her competency at teaching them given how quickly some of them were leveling, so Zareth pretty much gave her free rein to do as she liked.

Up to a limit, of course, but that limit was more than enough to prevent them from talking back to her.

Zareth took a deep breath, settling the lingering discomfort from his overused skills, and led Vidhatri down to the laboratory. The room looked distinctly different from how it did just a month ago, with Meldorath’s Heart growing significantly over that time and spreading flesh-like material all across the floor and most of the walls.

It wouldn’t be long before it spread to the lower floors of the spire and became impossible to hide, but Zareth would cross that bridge when it came. The more influential his cult became by that point, the less it would matter once High Command learned that the spire was transforming into a fleshy fortress.

“Let’s start with my project first. We can talk about my final Skill Points later,” said Zareth as he approached a workbench with a spherical clump of biomass on top of it. “I know that you said that I would need to acquire multiple Skill Evolutions before the System offered a method to directly control and see through a golem, but I thought of a different way to reach the same outcome.”

One of the problems that Zareth saw himself having in the future was his relative inability to leave Tal’Qamar without causing significant problems for his cult. Being a leader necessitated staying close to his center of power, but he didn’t want to be completely restricted in his movements.

It was for this reason that Zareth ultimately wanted to create a flesh golem that could effectively serve as a second body. Vidhatri had made clear that doing so would typically require a significant investment of Skill Points as well as a Class Evolution specifically related to golems, but Zareth had another option.

One that had become available after spending another Skill Point to upgrade his [Eye of Cerebon].

After activating [Deaden Nerves] to eliminate the oncoming pain, Zareth reached toward his third eye and calmly pulled it out with a few fingers, noting with interest how the optic nerve writhed as if alive once removed from his head. After taking a moment to observe the scene and confirming that his third eye had started to regrow back, he moved it toward the biomass and watched as the eye immediately burrowed itself into the fleshy mass like an animal that had found its natural habitat.

There was an instance of momentary disorientation as Zareth found himself looking at his own face before his vision stabilized. He could now see from his original perspective as well as the one embedded into the soon-to-be flesh golem.

Zareth turned all of his eyes to Vidhatri, which allowed him to witness the shivarath’s completely unimpressed and faintly confused expression.

Oh. I suppose to her, it just looks like I decided to pull my eye out for no reason, Zareth thought with a hint of embarrassment as he realized that his little display had fallen a bit flat.

After he finished explaining the most recent evolution to [Eye of Cerebon], she immediately understood his intentions.

Eye of Cerebon Evolution(s):

Eye of Cerebon – Allows the user to grow copies of this eye and imbed them in any piece of biomass, granting the ability to see through them. The number of eyes capable of existing at the same time scales with the user’s Willpower and possesses all the abilities of the main eye. Warning. This skill has been added to the System by an external Divine Entity without prior authorization. Results not guaranteed. +4 Willpower.

Zareth had immediately known that he couldn’t pass up that upgrade the moment he laid eyes on it. Especially given it made Willpower his highest stat at a hefty 36, allowing him to not only create several eyes, which he could use to spy with, but also better protect his mind against mind readers.

“The Weaver of Sinews truly favors you. That is an incredibly useful skill,” Vidhatri said with a trace of envy as she examined the eye with renewed interest. “Then I see your plan. You wish to combine [Create Lesser Flesh Golem] along with this ability to create constructs, which you can use to scout or act in your stead without being present. An intriguing concept, especially if paired with the stealth capabilities of your so-called Mirage Stalker augmentations.”

Zareth couldn’t help but feel slightly impressed by how quickly Vidhatri had pieced together his plan from a brief explanation.

“Correct. [Create Lesser Flesh Golem] allows me to operate a small golem as finely as my Control stat and its structure allows, but not actually experience its senses,” Zareth said as he began using his abilities to form small, bird-like limbs on the biomass. “With eyes from which I can see and fingers dexterous enough to manipulate objects or write, I can effectively be in two places at once. The only difficulty that I’m currently having is optimizing its ability to fly without compromising its stealth or ability to withstand minor injuries. It’ll require a careful balance of strength, flexibility, and perhaps an incorporation of unique magic-imbued biomass.”

Vidhatri pondered for a moment, her gaze serious as she fixated on the slowly growing golem. “It would be difficult to add further magical properties without losing its stealth specialization. There is a reason why monsters are generally known for particular magical abilities and not a wide assortment of them. Magic favors purity and focus, not rampant diversification. I am no [Flesh Animator], but I am familiar with their work and can offer assistance in this matter.”

As he and Vidhatri worked on the golem together, Zareth once again found himself impressed with the Senior Fleshwarper. He could tell that her understanding of biology was not as thorough as his own, especially in regards to animals due to [Veterinary Knowledge], but she definitely knew all of the things that mattered when it came to creating a viable construct.

Zareth hadn’t exactly memorized the scientific history of his original world, but he was confident that Vidhatri knew more than anyone did during the medieval time period. Specifically, she had an astonishing understanding of the lymphatic system that helped him optimize the golem’s circulatory needs in a way that solved many of his issues.

By the time they were done, the two of them had come up with a design that looked somewhat like an eyeball with wings, though the actual internal structure was significantly more complex.

Its wings were webbed and leathery like a bat, which offered superior maneuverability at low speeds and was easier to form with their abilities compared to feathered wings. The wings each ended in two tiny hands, the digits of which were dexterous enough that Zareth was able to successfully have the golem use a quill to write a… mostly legible sentence.

Its main body was a mass of flesh that contained the eye as the most prominent feature, able to shutter over it like a giant eyelid. Inside of its body was a fairly sophisticated respiratory system along with a relatively unsophisticated digestive system that connected to a small, toothy mouth. It possessed two birdlike legs that would allow it to perch and rest, while its skin had the same ability to refract light as the Mirage Stalker.

It didn’t have much in the way of offensive abilities, aside from a potent venom sac attached to its small claws and fangs, but that itself could be powerful when paired with its stealth.

All in all, Zareth felt a swell of pride as he finished testing the culmination of his labor. Having what was effectively an invisible flying camera that he could control with his mind to move about and manipulate objects would be extremely useful.

“Well done. It is one of the most well-crafted flesh golems that I imagine you could create without investing in more powerful skills,” Vidhatri said, nodding in approval as she studied the golem flying around the laboratory. “It will serve you well.”

Zareth couldn’t help but agree as he mentally commanded the golem to activate its light-refracting abilities and sent it flying out of the laboratory. He wished to see how well it could do scouting Tal’Qamar and force himself to grow accustomed to seeing another visual perspective while focusing on a different task.

“It shouldn’t be long until Rizok arrives, and I’ll need to discuss some important matters with him,” Zareth said as he turned his attention to Vidhatri. “Before then, I’d like to discuss my final Skill Point.”

Atavistic Apostle Active skills:

Ether Attunement – Infuse the body with Ether and enhance its ability to channel the Etherveil until it is equivalent to those of the distant past. Mutually exclusive with Divine Essence Attunement. +3 Spirit. +3 Willpower. +3 Control.

Divine Essence Attunement – Infuse the body with Divine Essence and enhance its ability to channel the power of divine beings until it is equivalent to those of the distant past. Mutually exclusive with Ether Attunement. +3 Strength. +3 Vitality. +3 Agility.

Organic Renascence – Allows the user to recreate the biology of extinct creatures of which they have knowledge. +2 Strength. +2 Vitality. +2 Agility.

Whispers of Lost Tongues – Allows the user to intuitively learn dead languages. +3 Spirit. +1 Willpower. +1 Control.

Zareth saw no reason to hide the details of his potential skills given how absolutely loyal Vidhatri was to Cerebon. She would sooner slit her own throat than do anything that would work against the god’s interests, such as recklessly spreading information about his class.

Aside from those four new options, the System still offered all of the skills that it had before, such as [Flesh Crafting], [Corrosive Bolt], and all the rest. It also offered a new Skill Evolution for [Create Lesser Flesh Golem], but Zareth was much more interested in the skills specific to [Atavistic Apostle].

Not only did they give significantly more stats in general, but the benefits of skills like [Flesh Crafting] could be delegated to the other [Cultists] in his cult.

“The difficulty that I’m having is that I have no idea how useful each of these skills would actually be,” Zareth said after he finished explaining his options. “What is the difference between the abilities of the Etherveil and the Divine Essence? How many extinct creatures can I actually learn about, and are they any stronger than creatures that are actually alive? Being able to learn dead languages seems useful, but wouldn’t it be better to hire a [Historian] or [Scholar] that specializes in that?”

Vidhatri’s expression was thoughtful as she silently considered Zareth’s quandary. “How strange. I am familiar with examples of classes capable of channeling the Etherveil and Divine Essence, but they were all offered [Ether Channeling] and [Divine Essence Channeling]. I’m not certain of the differences between these skills and yours, but those differences must exist given that these skills are not exclusive.”

Zareth was surprised to hear that. He had already been doing research into the Etherveil and Divine Essence from the moment he chose his Class Evolution, but information regarding them was sparse.

“Your situation is quite unique to my knowledge,” Vidhatri continued after a moment of consideration. “Unfortunately, I know little about the practicalities of using those forms of power. My suggestion would be for you to focus on researching those two skills in particular. Not only do they offer far more stats than skills should for someone of your level, but their mutual exclusivity suggests that your choice will be highly significant.”

Zareth considered Vidhatri’s advice and found that he couldn’t help but agree. While neither of the skills would completely prohibit him from channeling the power of the other, it did imply that he would need to specialize in one going forward.

That wasn’t the kind of decision to make when he had so little information about the strengths and weaknesses of both. It was something that he would need to focus on researching after the upcoming offensive, when his time wasn’t so consumed with working on the soldier augmentations.

Just as Zareth was about to respond, he paused as his flesh golem suddenly caught sight of Rizok approaching the spire.

Once he shared this information with Vidhatri, a glimmer of anticipation flashed through her eyes before being replaced with caution as she glanced toward Meldorath’s Heart. “Are you certain that it is wise to allow the heathen here? As impressive as he may be, I question your willingness to trust outsiders.”

“You can question it as much as you like, Senior Fleshwarper. But I do trust him,” Zareth said firmly, unwilling to compromise on this matter.

Vidhatri may be higher-level and more powerful than him, but he wasn’t going to let her make decisions about how he ran his own cult.

The two of them locked gazes for several moments before Vidhatri nodded in acceptance as they returned to waiting for Rizok’s arrival.

Turning his focus back to the golem, Zareth instructed it to fly into Rizok’s field of view and lead the lizardkin to the laboratory. Zareth found the clear exasperation that crossed the lizardkin’s expression as he stared at the flying eyeball to be far funnier than he should have.

“Why is it that whenever I leave, I return to find this place more bizarre than when I left it?” Rizok asked dryly as he stepped into the laboratory.

“I prefer the term innovative,” Zareth countered with a wry grin as he directed the golem to land on his shoulder, briefly petting the flying eyeball’s side as it leaned into his touch.

Flesh Golems were far from intelligent, especially ones as rudimentary as the one that he’d made, but [Create Lesser Flesh Golem] did imbue them with the capacity to respond to simple stimuli like it was doing now.

“Hmph. Our god is not bizarre. It is the rest of the world that is strange for not seeing his truth,” Vidhatri said with a scoff before a strange emotion crossed her face as she looked at Rizok. “How glorious it would be if you were among Cerebon’s chosen. There’s… so much that could be done to improve your flesh if you would only allow me.”

Okay. That’s my cue to change the subject, Zareth thought with a trace of embarrassment as he saw the increasingly ravenous look in the shivarath’s eyes.

While Rizok might appreciate Vidhatri’s enthusiasm, he’d made it clear that he didn’t intend to worship any gods, and Zareth did have other matters to discuss rather than watch the two of them make eyes at one another.

“I had another vision this morning, this time about the Conclave,” Zareth announced as he interrupted before things could get more awkward.

By the time he finished recounting his vision, Vidhatri and Rizok’s expressions were both much more serious as they considered the details.

“I know nothing that could be described as a ‘crossroads of magic,’” Vidhatri admitted in a moment of consideration. “You would be better served asking one of the [Rishi Sages] about such matters.”

“Kethr’syssen? The word is familiar, but I’m not certain where I’ve heard it,” Rizok murmured, his eyes narrowing in thought before he refocused on Zareth. “There is a chance that this may be important to the current war. If there is something in the Qahtani Desert that the Conclave is extremely invested in hiding or protecting, then High Command will have underestimated their resolve to retain control over these lands.”

Zareth was unsurprised that neither of them had clear information to share with him, as he’d already expected that things wouldn’t be that easy. Just as he was about to respond, he suddenly noticed Rizok subtly gesturing toward Vidhatri with a meaningful look in his eye.

It took a moment, but Zareth eventually understood that he likely wanted her to leave so that he could share the information gathered by the Tessik privately. Personally, Zareth felt that Vidhatri was both trustworthy and useful enough to warrant sharing secrets with, so long as they weren’t going against Cerebon, but that wasn’t his decision to make.

Rizok had taken a risk in trusting him with the existence of his secret group, and Zareth had no intention of being careless with that trust.

“Senior Fleshwarper, Rizok and I have a few things that we need to discuss in private,” said Zareth, seeing no need to beat around the bush. “Would you give us a moment?”

Vidhatri’s eyes narrowed slightly, her gaze shifting between Zareth and Rizok, but she gave a curt nod before agreeing and making her way out of the library.

“Thank you. While I’m sure that her input would be valuable, my people cannot afford to recklessly trust outsiders,” Rizok said as soon as she was gone. “There are already some who disagree with my decision to reveal them to you.”

“Really? Is that going to be a problem for you?” said Zareth, worried that his new friend would get in trouble because of him.

“Nothing significant. My position in the military is not one that can be easily replaced, so there is little that my detractors can do to censure me,” Rizok said with a dismissive gesture before his expression grew firm. “But let’s focus on the matter at hand. There are several topics that we need to discuss, but the most important are those related to the war.”

Zareth nodded in understanding. The main motivation of the Tessik to ally with him was for the potential acquisition of a piece of land that they believed held historical significance to lizardkin. Given that this particular area was also in a high-value location, they needed Zareth’s cult to contribute significantly to this war if they wanted any chance of getting their claws on it.

“Were you able to verify that High Command intends to honor their commitment?” Zareth asked.

That was one of the first things that he had asked Rizok’s co-conspirators to look into for him, given that their ambitions hinged entirely on High Command’s trustworthiness. It was unlikely that General Nasrith was simply using the promise of land to manipulate him and the rest of Tal’Qamar’s factions, given the catastrophic consequences of breaking such a deal, but Zareth wasn’t one to take anything for granted.

“All signs point to them being committed to this course of action. The directive to take this path came from House Vhelan, and Lady Marilith very rarely resorts to such blatant lies, but that is not what I was referring to,” Rizok said as he walked over to a workbench.

Zareth watched as Rizok swept away the papers on the bench and cleared it of leftover biomass before spreading out a detailed map of the area surrounding Fal’Ashar where General Nasrith was likely to engage Tal’Qamar’s enemies.

“You managed to discover details about High Command’s offensive?” said Zareth, his eyes widening in astonishment.

These kinds of details were extremely confidential for obvious reasons and hadn’t been shared with Zareth despite his relationship with High Command. Possessing this map was a risk, but having specific details about the upcoming battle would allow him to come up with a specific plan to more effectively aid the war effort.

Zareth knew how important impressions were, especially first impressions. His first impression to the majority of Tal’Qamar’s citizens when he attacked the Conclave was one that resulted in his cult nearly doubling in membership within a single month.

This battle would make a big impression on not only many members of the military who hadn’t been in Tal’Qamar at the time but would also display just how essential his cult could be to the city’s future. Not to mention spread news about his cult beyond Tal’Qamar.

“We did, though we’re not the only ones,” Rizok confirmed as he placed a few markers on the map. “We were given this by one of the kesh’sisk in House Khysar who sympathize with us, and it was almost certainly passed to other factions. I’ve always wondered why our enemies so rarely discover our plans given how compromised and corrupt High Command is.”

Zareth could hear a deep resentment in Rizok’s voice making it clear that this was a sore spot for him.

“I see. Well, you’ll need to explain this for me since I don’t exactly know how to read military maps,” said Zareth, changing the topic as he approached the workbench.

Zareth listened carefully as Rizok explained. Apparently, General Nasrith intended to take full advantage of the Desharin’s recent commitment to the war effort by taking a path to the enemy’s position through a place known as the Sea of Dunes. This was an area rampant with Living Sands, which wouldn’t be traversable in most other circumstances.

Attacking from this direction would hopefully be a big surprise to the enemy and allow General Nasrith to storm several significant defensive fortifications around an oasis near Fal’Ashar. The information that Rizok had acquired included details about the expected enemy forces, so he and Zareth spent the next half an hour discussing potential ideas.

From swarms of warbeasts to sacs of diseased biomass that could be launched into the enemy lines to break their ranks, each of their plans was struck down for a variety of reasons. Tal’Qamar didn’t field a sufficient number of [Beast Tamers] to handle that many warbeasts, and most militaries in this region had multiple methods of dealing with “bio-chemical” attacks.

Apparently, one of the city-states on the westernmost edge of the Qahtani Deserts specialized in [Alchemists] and caused a lot of problems in a previous war.

“What if I repeat the trick that I used during our trip to the temple?” Zareth asked, growing increasingly frustrated as none of his plans panned out. “I’m sure that there must be a few hives of System Spawn near Fal’Ashar. It wouldn’t be difficult to lure them with pheromones.”

“A competent military would have enough patrols of [Scouts] to see them coming from a mile away and would have their [War Mages] burn them to ashes long before they arrived.”

“Tch. What if I created a singular massive creature that could burrow beneath their fortifications?” Zareth asked, not even certain if he could do that but wanting to explore every option.

“[Geomancers] have been doing similar things for ages,” Rizok responded with clear skepticism. “Their tunnel would collapse on their head the moment they drew close to the enemy position.”

Zareth let out a frustrated curse and took a deep breath as he glared at the map. While he was able to come up with several ideas that he considered creative, his hopes were quickly dashed as Rizok made it clear that this world wasn’t populated by idiots.

If I want my cult to have an effect on this battle beyond the augmentations, then I’ll need to think of something that nobody else would have been able to consider, Zareth thought as his mind raced with ideas.

Eventually, one idea in particular began to stand out as potentially viable.

“Does High Command have any aerial forces capable of dropping things on enemy positions?” Zareth asked after nearly a minute of silence.

“Yes, though not many,” Rizok immediately confirmed. “[Aeromancers] are reserved specifically for scouting from a safe distance, as enemy [Archers] are guaranteed to target them in battle.”

“That’s fine. How common is it to use [Hydromancers] during battles like these?” Zareth continued, increasingly confident in his idea. “You said that Fal’Ashar is particularly good at conserving their forces during retreats due to their cavalry’s speed and ability to harass pursuing forces. Wouldn’t it be easy to restrict enemy movements by mixing sand with water to create large fields of mud?”

Rizok’s expression was confused, but he still answered dutifully. “It is very common for exactly the reason that you describe, despite the relative cost of fielding [Hydromancers]. It is protocol to keep one [Hydromancer] in reserve throughout a battle to clear any potential route of retreat.”

That made sense to Zareth and was another sign that his plan had the potential to actually work.

“One more question. Can a [Hydromancer] manipulate blood?” Zareth asked, growing excited as he awaited Rizok’s answer.

When the lizardkin confirmed that they couldn’t, Zareth felt a wide grin grow across his face as the pieces of his plan fell into place.

“Go and tell Vidhatri that she needs to come back,” he said as he quickly retrieved a bit of biomass from his storage area and placed it on a workbench. “I’m going to need her help designing this if I want it to be ready in time for the offensive.”

As Rizok left the laboratory to do just that and Zareth began sculpting the pile of biomass into a spherical shape, his mind conjured images of what the battlefield would look like if his plan worked as intended.

It wouldn’t be quite as flashy as making a giant man-eating flesh house in the middle of Tal’Qamar, but he had a feeling that none of his rivals would be able to compete.

Chapter 2

Nasrith had been a creature of habit and discipline from the moment he had hatched.

At least, this is what he had been told by the various high-leveled [Caretakers] and [Instructors] who had molded him into the man he was today. They claimed that even as an infant, Nasrith would demand to be fed at the exact same time each day, his cries as punctual as the shadows on a sundial. This trait followed him as he grew older and was the one Nasrith credited in his rise to power.

It was what had allowed him to excel in his rigorous military training, where precision and discipline were paramount, and avoid the many excesses that plagued naga society.

It was what had allowed him to level faster than any of his peers and draw the favor of House Vhelan, granting him the connections to thrive in the military’s cutthroat hierarchy.

It was what had allowed him to become the ostensible ruler of the most militarily powerful city-state in the Qahtani Desert, despite being born to a relatively minor family.

Nasrith’s discipline was evident in every aspect of his life, from his spartan living quarters to the meticulous care he took in maintaining his armor and weapons. It influenced the way he planned his military strategies and the expectations he held toward his subordinates. There wasn’t a single officer in Tal’Qamar’s military who didn’t know of this quirk of Nasrith’s personality.

This was why everyone knew not to interrupt him during the fifteen minutes of solace he demanded on the eve of every battle for anything less than an emergency.

How soon after those fifteen minutes passed before he was interrupted generally informed him of how urgently his attention was actually needed. That his personal adjutant felt the need to come to him less than a minute after his allotted time told him that today’s morning was going to be more interesting than most.

“General Nasrith, I apologize for interrupting, but Colonel Salzin has requested that your pre-battle briefing be held now,” said Lieutenant Colonel Anaya, his personal adjutant, from the entrance of his tent as she gave a crisp salute from the other side of his desk.

He had many adjutants handling all manner of administrative work for him, but the lieutenant colonel was the only among them who held ties to House Vhelan and was thus the most trustworthy.

“At ease. Has there been a change in the strategic situation since yesterday’s meeting?” Nasrith asked sharply, looking up from his copy of the Duchess and placing down his cup of imported Maharan tea. “If so, then he should present that information in front of the entire war council. If not, then I see no need to reschedule our planned briefing from its typical time when our strategy has already been decided.”

The Duchess was a rather obscure political treatise written by the former Duchess Rowena of Arbasel that detailed her experiences as a [Noble Cannibal] living during the height of the Eldamir Empire’s first civil war. Such classes were reviled across all cultures that Nasrith had encountered, due to their tendency to grant power through the consumption of other sapients.

Her circumstances led Duchess Rowena to develop a rather robust political acumen as she successfully hid her true nature up until her death, allowing her to write the greatest literary masterpiece Nasrith had ever encountered.

It had been Nasrith’s habit for years to read his favorite passages from the book on the eve of every battle, and he would not be pleased if he was interrupted for a trivial matter.

“The colonel refused to clarify, sir,” said Lieutenant Colonel Anaya, a momentary baring of her fangs the only sign of her displeasure. “However, he implied that he had a few matters to speak about regarding Tal’Qamar’s internal politics.”

Nasrith’s adjutant couldn’t help but speak the words internal politics with barely veiled disdain, a sentiment he could fully sympathize with.

There were many naga who found it far preferable to deal with wars and blood-soaked battlefields than the tiresome viper pit created by the Great Houses’ constant maneuvering for power. Nasrith dearly wished that he could simply ignore the happenings within Tal’Qamar and focus entirely on warfare as he always had done in the past, but that was no longer possible.

Nasrith, tragically, had been forced into a situation where he was now the official Ruler of Tal’Qamar, which meant he now had an obligation to keep an eye on the tedious nonsense that was its internal politics.

“Send him in,” Nasrith said decisively after a moment of thought, not showing any of the weariness those words brought him.

Lieutenant Colonel Anaya saluted again and left to retrieve Colonel Salzin, who entered his tent a few moments later with a professional demeanor. The colonel was the highest-level and most talented of Nasrith’s [Spymaster Colonels], which was why he had trusted Salzin to handle everything related to the military’s espionage efforts for many years.

Despite them each owing allegiance to two Great Houses with historically poor relations, Nasrith had never caught Salzin acting in bias toward House Zarqet beyond the normal amount.

Whether that would continue given their change in circumstances was yet to be seen, but Nasrith believed in judging a person’s true nature through their actions. As soon as Colonel Salzin entered the command tent, he offered a salute and coiled his tail until his upper body was lower than Nasrith’s.

This was a typical gesture of respect between members of the upper class in naga culture and demonstrated that Salzin recognized him as a superior both in the military hierarchy and within their society.

Nasrith left the colonel at attention as he rose from his seat and made his way over to a small, ornately carved chest next to his desk. Opening it, he retrieved a small, polyhedral device adorned with glyphs along its sides, with a small spherical indentation at its center that held a near-perfect Sunstone.

While it had cost him a fortune unaffordable to even most wealthy families, hiring a Level 50 [Artificer] to make him a proper Spell Repository had been one of Nasrith’s better decisions.

There were few skills capable of providing the proper level of informational security that someone in Nasrith’s position required. Being able to store a [Greater Ward of Secrecy], a spell too powerful for any of his [War Mages] to replicate, was priceless in protecting himself from the myriad of cunning methods used to gather information.

After activating the Spell Repository, a golden shimmer quickly spread through the tent until it encircled all the tent walls. Nasrith returned the artifact to its place in the chest and turned his attention back to the still-waiting colonel.

“At ease, Colonel. I assume that you have important matters to discuss with me given that you’ve decided to change our schedule,” said Nasrith, a hint of steel in his voice making clear that this better be the case as he moved back to his seat. “Is any of it time sensitive?”

Given that the lives of his soldiers could be at risk if that was the case, Nasrith needed to know if immediate action was required.

“No, sir. I’m here due to your prior orders for any important changes to Tal’Qamar’s political landscape to be brought to your attention, especially in regard to the Hierophant Council,” said Colonel Salzin, dropping his salute and straightening his posture. “There would not have been enough time to do so if relegated to the scheduled briefing.”

Tal’Qamar’s new religions were absolutely insignificant in influence compared to the Great Houses, but they were still worth keeping a close eye on. The majority of Tal’Qamar’s factions were fairly settled in their positions and relatively predictable, which meant emerging groups like the new religions were the most likely source of any disruption in the city.

“Very well. Start with the military portion of your briefing first,” Nasrith said after a moment of consideration, deciding to prioritize the upcoming battle before forcing himself to endure the rest.

Colonel Salzin nodded and began providing a standard troop disposition update as required by protocol prior to each battle. Most of it was regarding logistics and troop readiness, which, while not exceptionally exciting, were the very foundations of any military force.

With the exception of their dwindling water supply, which would be supplemented once they seized the moderately sized oasis their enemy had positioned themselves around, everything else was well in order.

Nasrith had assigned one of his best [Logistics Officers] to Tal’Qamar’s Second Army, so he directed the colonel to move on and update him on enemy troop movements once he verified that logistics were under control.

Nasrith paid particularly close attention to this topic, as the enemy’s movements would reveal whether or not their approach had been noticed.

It was nearly impossible to sneak up on a competent military so long as they invested in leveling their [Scouts] to an acceptable degree. Around Level 40, any variants of skills like [Detect Threat] were extremely effective and could alert them from many miles away, especially for a force as large as the one Nasrith was leading.

However, their decision to go through the Sea of Dunes meant that [Detect Threat] would have trouble distinguishing his troops from the many Living Sands until it was hopefully too late. As such, Nasrith had ordered last night that his forces rest in preparation for a [Swift March] on the enemy position and also to avoid lighting any large campfires.

Careful espionage and a culling of enemy [Spies] had convinced the enemy that they were still several days away from arriving, and Nasrith had no intention of losing the element of surprise to sloppiness.

“Fal’Ashar’s forces are well prepared and remain vigilant, but there is no sign that they’re anticipating our attack,” Colonel Salzin reported, his voice steady and professional. “Their [Scouts] continue to patrol their usual routes, and the illusory artifacts provided by House Khysar have hidden us from any aerial reconnaissance. Our [Scouts], who have been enhanced with the Mirage Stalker template, are able to monitor enemy movements far better than expected and should be able to notify us the moment there is a change in circumstances.”

“Good. What of the enemy reinforcements being sent by Jalasa and Anket?” Nasrith asked, nodding in approval at the report, glad to hear such favorable news.

The two city-states had already entered the war quite some time ago, but the sheer size of the Qahtani Desert and the distance between major population centers meant that the bulk of their forces had taken significant time to muster. Neither of them had Tal’Qamar’s rich military tradition nor its experience with rapid deployments.

“The pace of the Jalasan military is so far consistent with what our [Strategists] predicted, which places them as arriving at the frontlines within two weeks,” said Colonel Salzin, confirming nothing had changed overnight. “However, there’s been a new development regarding the mercenaries hired by Anket. I’ve received word that they will likely arrive a week later than anticipated.”

Nasrith couldn’t help but raise a brow in surprise.

“Explain. The Desert Falcons Company are a fairly competent fighting force and wouldn’t allow themselves to be delayed without significant reason,” Nasrith demanded, his mind racing as he considered the implications of this information.

“According to my sources, there have been some disputes regarding payment, and the Desert Falcons are intentionally slowing their march until the matter is resolved,” Colonel Salzin reported, his tone remaining professional despite the hint of satisfaction in his expression. “One of the most valuable artifacts that Anket promised as payment has had its ownership disputed due to several historical records that have conveniently emerged.”

How convenient indeed. It wasn’t Nasrith’s experience that luck often caused such dramatic shifts in the course of a war, and he had a feeling that wasn’t the case here either.

“I assume from your tone that this wasn’t a coincidence,” Nasrith said as he watched Salzin closely for any reaction. “Also, how did you acquire this information? It wasn’t my impression that your [Spies] had managed to infiltrate Anket so thoroughly. I have no doubt that they would have done everything in their power to hide their internal disputes.”

An uncharacteristic trace of hesitation flicked through Salzin’s expression that caused Nasrith’s eyes to narrow.

“You are correct, General. This information didn’t come from my own network and instead came from House Khysar,” said Colonel Salzin, causing Nasrith to force back a sigh as he realized it was time to move on to Tal’Qamar’s internal politics. “They almost certainly heard it themselves from Priest Kassan and the rest of Ghisara’s worshipers.”

All of the Hierophant Council’s members came with their own complications, but the Circle of Ghisara was perhaps the most troublesome and subversive. They had a long historical alliance with House Khysar and behaved in a way that made it difficult to understand their goals.

Whereas most deities could be reliably trusted to seek more followers and more power, the Circle of Ghisara had never openly recruited new members. Instead, they only recruited by approaching specific individuals within naga society who they knew beforehand would be receptive to joining.

It was nigh impossible to gather information on their internal selective recruiting process, which made them a relatively unknown quality in Tal’Qamar.

“I see. I suppose that this is their way of proving their value and contributing to the war,” Nasrith said after a moment of thought, his finger tapping against the desk.

Nasrith had been skeptical at first when Lady Marilith proposed the plan to distribute land to Tal’Qamar’s factions in accordance with their war contributions. He did not trust the bickering fools with the responsibility of administering lands and would have preferred to leave such matters to his own officers.

While he had never had ambitions to be a ruler until Raqasor and the Conclave forced his hand, Nasrith had every intention of excelling in this role as he had done in all others. So long as the citizens of Tal’Qamar understood their place in the city’s hierarchy and obeyed its laws, they deserved his utmost protection and consideration.

Handing them over to be governed by a group of petty, short-sighted fools engaged in endless power struggles was not what he considered his utmost consideration.

However, Lady Marilith had made a convincing argument that Tal’Qamar would be in a worse position in the long run if Nasrith had his own people administer those lands and didn’t distribute some of it to other factions. Not only were the Desharin and the ogres pushing for more autonomy and could potentially act foolishly if perpetually denied, but Tal’Qamar would also need their active contribution to win this war.

Nasrith trusted himself and his subordinates to defeat any other military force in the region, but against multiple city-states with the full backing of the Conclave, it would not be so easy.

“Is the Circle of Ghisara still conspiring against the Cult of Cerebon?” asked Nasrith, his thoughts drifting toward the small religious group that seemed intent on garnering attention. “I believe that I ordered their situation to be monitored closely after you informed me of the cult’s highly conspicuous actions against the Conclave.”

It had certainly been a memorable day when he was informed that a giant flesh house had torn apart several Conclave agents in the center of Tal’Qamar and also a highly satisfying one.

There were few things that Nasrith despised more than traitors, so the actions taken by the cult were well appreciated by him. Nasrith only regretted that so few of the Conclave’s agents had survived to be interrogated.

While he was ostensibly the Ruler of Tal’Qamar, he lacked the ability to act against a Great House without clear evidence of wrongdoing and the consent of the others.

Otherwise, they would see it as a challenge to their influence and join together against him very quickly. Each of them knew this and exploited it ruthlessly, leaving him to deal with the consequences of their selfishness.

“The Circle of Ghisara hasn’t taken any overt actions recently, but they’ve been monitoring the cult closely for reasons unknown to us,” said Colonel Salzin, a small trace of frustration breaking through his professional facade for the first time since the briefing began. “Specifically, they seem exceedingly interested in Apostle Zareth and his activities. I have confirmation that they’ve bribed an administrator in the Adventurer’s Guild to report any missions he posts and quietly hired someone to explore that temple they discovered to the north of Tal’Qamar. They’re even closely tracking the books he purchases, especially those related to history.”

Nasrith was quiet as he tried to make sense of the Circle of Ghisara’s recent activities. They’d taken several risks recently for seemingly marginal benefits, and their focus on the Cult of Cerebon also didn’t have any discernible purpose.

Chances are that they’re making decisions based on information inexplicably given to them by their deity, Nasrith concluded after a moment of consideration. Of all the goddesses to exist in my city, why did the Goddess of Oracles and Mysteries have to be one of them?

“Continue monitoring the situation and inform me if the Circle of Ghisara’s actions against the cult escalate to a point where we need to intervene,” said Nasrith, deciding that there was little else they could do until more information surfaced. “We won’t know until the end of this battle, but that cult could potentially be an indispensable part of Tal’Qamar’s rise moving forward.”

He usually disdained untested and unreliable changes when it came to matters of warfare, instead trusting methods and strategies that had withstood the test of time. However, he understood the value of listening to his subordinates and accepted their advice to deploy a notable number of biologically modified soldiers to a portion of the battlefield.

While their overarching strategy didn’t rely on the augmentations that the cultists had provided, this would be their first real battle where they were tested, and Nasrith expected interesting results.

Especially if the plan that their leader had presented to him proved to be as effective as Nasrith’s [Strategists] claimed.

That human is definitely one to keep a close eye on, Nasrith mused as he refocused on the colonel and ordered him to move on. “Enough about them. Have there been any notable changes within Tal’Qamar?”

“No, sir. The Circle of Ghisara is the only faction acting particularly strangely, though House Khysar does seem slightly less interested in Tal’Hadin than expected,” Colonel Salzin began before continuing to update him on the ongoing matters within Tal’Qamar.

Nasrith found himself feeling mixed emotions with the rest of Salzin’s report. On the positive side, there didn’t seem to be any significant shifts with the various other faiths, who were all focused on contributing to the war.

The Desharin were extremely invested and were willingly guiding Tal’Qamar’s forces through the desert without complaint, while the ogres aided significantly in information gathering and on the battlefield with their necromancy-adjacent abilities. The foreign monks had far less of an impact due to their scarce numbers, but their expertise in manipulating emotions was very useful for maintaining the morale and discipline of his forces.

However, the fact that little had changed in Tal’Qamar meant that the Great Houses were still causing needless trouble.

This time by fighting over Tal’Hadin, a relatively modest settlement within the territory recently conquered by Tal’Qamar. While the oasis around which Tal’Hadin had been built was too small to support a proper city-state, the settlement was on a notable intersection of the trade routes that led to the much more significant city of Shihr.

Due to geographical constraints, Shihr was nearly unconquerable and highly isolationist, but still a highly valuable trading partner for whoever controlled Tal’Hadin.

The infighting that had broken out among the Great Houses was quiet enough that few were aware of it, but they were still bloody enough that Tal’Qamar was left worse off for it.

Nasrith had been able to tolerate that sort of nonsense when he spent the vast majority of his time away from Tal’Qamar, but circumstances had changed…

A society, much like an army, could only function with strictly enforced rules and a clear hierarchy.

Every day that went by when he was forced to tolerate their constant lack of respect for his position or anything but their own interests infuriated him like nothing ever had before. Nasrith knew that he’d only been allowed to ascend to his current situation due to his perceived disinterest in political matters, but he more and more found himself wanting to bring the Great Houses to heel.

The desire to do so felt like an ever-present ember in his chest that was slowly being fanned into a roaring flame by each new act of defiance or insubordination, and Nasrith had to force himself not to hiss in anger by the time the colonel had finished speaking.

Fortunately, Nasrith managed to hold onto his composure until the end of the pre-battle briefing and put all matters regarding the Great Houses to the back of his mind.

It was nearly time for them to begin their march, and he could not afford to be distracted.

“Keep a close eye on House Khysar. My instincts tell me they’re going to be trouble in the future,” Nasrith said as he once again rose from his seat and made his way over to the armor stand in the corner of his tent. “Now go and inform Lieutenant-General Yazir that he has authorization to use [Rapid Mobilization]. I want our troops prepared to move within the next twenty minutes.”

Colonel Salzin nodded sharply before saluting. “Understood, sir. I’ll relay the message immediately.”

Nasrith waited until Salzin had left the tent before deactivating the [Greater Ward of Secrecy] and beginning the process of donning the same set of armor that he’d worn into countless battles. Each piece was so thoroughly enchanted that even the [Enchanter Lord] of Fal’Ashar would admire its craftsmanship and the power it bestowed on him. House Vhelan had made a truly heavy investment when they commissioned it in honor of him becoming the [Mercenary General] of Tal’Qamar’s military, one which he had repaid several times over.

As he strapped on piece after piece and took hold of his spear, Nasrith felt the familiar surge of power that came with having one’s stats raised through artificial means.

As always, he couldn’t help but imagine what it would be like if it were possible to standardize such enchantments across all of his forces. It was a hopeless fantasy, of course, but Nasrith had found his ambition growing significantly due to events over the past year.

Perhaps it would be possible to acquire the next best thing through the cult of Cerebon, Nasrith mused as he studied himself in the mirror and ensured he was equipped as per protocol. Though, I suppose I’ll know the answer to that by the end of the day.

Satisfied with his appearance and readiness of his gear, Nasrith made his way out of the tent. He was greeted to the sight of their military camp being swiftly and efficiently dismantled by his soldiers, each of them moving with unnatural speed and coordination due to Lieutenant-General Yazir’s [Rapid Mobilization].

Nasrith took a moment to enjoy the swell of satisfaction that came with a force of ten thousand people working together with such discipline. Tal’Qamar’s military was one of its few institutions where people could rise above their station through the merits of their competency regardless of their origins.

Oh, it was far from the impartial organization that he wished to make it, especially in the Officer Corps. However, Nasrith ensured that even the most spoiled of fools who exploited their connections to secure a position among his officers were rigorously molded into someone worthy of their rank.

It was for this reason that there had actually been a significant decrease in nepotism since he took over, as those spoiled aristocrats shied away from hard work.

Soon enough, the moment passed, and Nasrith shifted his focus to the present. His subordinates were more than equipped to handle the final preparations, so he moved to take his position at the head of where the troops who had finished were entering formation according to their assigned units.

Before long, Nasrith found himself standing before row after row of impeccably arrayed soldiers, their armor glinting in the desert sun and their expressions focused. Despite the large number of people, Nasrith’s soldiers were completely silent as they awaited his command. The only sounds came from the Living Sand moving within the sands surrounding them, pacified by the platoon of Desharin still wearing their traditional garments after refusing the standard armor.

It was a slight blemish on an otherwise beautiful display, but one Nasrith could ignore given their contribution to the safety of his forces.

Nasrith nodded in satisfaction and began to rise as high as he could by uncoiling and straightening his tail to its full length, allowing as many of his troops to see him as possible. With his Strength, he was easily able to support his full weight on a mere inch of his tail even while fully armored.

Nasrith wasn’t prone to motivational speeches, as his soldiers should already possess the dedication necessary to fight without inspiring words. However, he had learned through the years that it was useful to remind your troops what exactly they were fighting for.

“The Conclave and the cities which they hold influence over have declared war upon Tal’Qamar, the closest of which is Fal’Ashar,” Nasrith began, his authoritative voice carrying out over the sand-filled air. “Our enemy has positioned themselves around the Qareeshar Oasis, which is the only natural water source in this area capable of sustaining a siege on their city. They understand the importance of this and will not surrender it easily. We will give them no choice in the matter.”

Nasrith’s eyes swept across the assembled troops, and he spoke with a tone of complete and utter certainty. He was exceedingly familiar with the capabilities of the soldiers in front of him and knew without a shadow of a doubt that they would emerge the superior military force today.

“Our strategy is clear. We will move through the Sea of Dunes and strike them before they can muster a response,” Nasrith continued as every eye focused on him. “They have won isolated battles against our forces by leveraging their large number of enchanted armaments, but they have not seen the true might of Tal’Qamar. While they have enjoyed peace for decades, we have fought and died on every corner of this continent. Today, Fal’Ashar will be broken against your superior training, experience, and levels. Today, we will show everyone who dares to attack Tal’Qamar the consequences of their actions!”

Nasrith could immediately see the effect that his words had on his soldiers, pride and confidence glimmering within their eyes. [Perceive Morale] made it clear that their fighting spirit was at a peak and that they were more than ready for the fight ahead.

“Prove to me that you’re worthy to be called soldiers of the greatest city in the Qahtani Desert,” said Nasrith as he placed his fist over his heart. “Victory at any price!”

“Victory at any price!”The response was booming as every single soldier shouted out as they thumped their own chests with closed fists, faces etched with determination.

“Good. Now, [Coordinated Movement]! [Swift March]!” Nasrith yelled as he recoiled his tail and began moving at a brisk pace toward the Qareeshar Oasis.

He could feel his skills take hold over the entire ten-thousand-strong army, a feat capable of only high-leveled individuals with a [General] equivalent officer class. As their names suggested, it caused Nasrith’s soldiers to move with near-synchronous strides at twice the speed that would normally be possible.

Nasrith had arranged for his forces to camp as close to their target as reasonably possible specifically so that he could maintain these skills for the entire march without succumbing to skill exhaustion.

With every single one of his soldiers possessing a minimum of 25 Agility, the speed at which they moved was blazingly fast and even caused large clouds of sand to billow up in their wake.

As a result, it was only a mere fifteen minutes before Nasrith received word that their forward [Scouts] had seen increased movement around the enemy’s defensive fortifications. An additional fifteen minutes after that was all that was needed before Nasrith was able to get a good look at the situation himself.

The fort around the Qareeshar Oasis was far too small to garrison the entirety of Fal’Ashar’s forces. With walls that were approximately only forty feet tall, there were many soldiers who could simply leap above them if not for the enchantments they almost certainly had to prevent just that.

Fal’Ashar’s long peace had clearly caused their defenses to dull, resulting in them not hiring a sufficiently capable [Mason] to build them a proper fort.

Still, it was enough to protect their more vulnerable forces.

[Archers], [War Mages], and administration-focused personnel could be seen frantically running into the sandstone structure and manning its walls. The rest of Fal’Ashar’s forces were likewise hurrying to take defensive formations close to their fortifications, with [Spear Infantry] quickly forming long lines ahead of the fort and [Scorpion Riders] attempting to organize themselves.

At a glance, it was clear to him that the enemy leadership had used [Emergency Positioning] or one of its equivalents to rapidly deploy its troops. It was a wise decision, though not one that would save them.

Having seen the enemy’s formation, Nasrith immediately activated [Commanding Edict] so that he could relay long-distance orders to his officers over the clamor of the battlefield.

“Captain Serithal, break to the right with your Plaguebringer Company. Captain Eryndor, your [Archers] are authorized to attack the enemy fort the moment we enter standardized [Far Shot] range. Captain Qamaris, send your cavalry around to flank their [Scorpion Riders] and prepare to engage them at the same moment we make contact with their main force.”

Immediately, Nasrith’s officers responded to his commands as two separate groups broke away from their charge to reposition themselves. The Plaguebringers needed to be separated from the rest of the troops due to the nature of their abilities while the cavalry were perfectly positioned to devastate the enemy’s own unprepared cavalry.

Tal’Qamar was one of the few militaries in the region to use [Horse Riders] over the more common [Scorpion Riders] due to their history of fighting abroad in a wide variety of terrains. While horses may be slightly less adapted to the desert and incapable of burrowing themselves beneath the sand, their charges were far more effective in open battle.

Moments later, Nasrith spotted a volley of arrows soaring above his head as Captain Eryndor momentarily used [Halt March] and ordered hundreds of [Archers] to attack simultaneously, utilizing [Far Shot] to its fullest advantage. The arrows rained down upon the enemy fortifications, causing chaos and disruption among the Fal’Ashar [War Mages] and [Archers], who struggled to retaliate.

It was immediately apparent how unprepared the enemy had been for such an attack, as their retaliation was disorganized and ineffective. The [Shieldbearers] at the front easily withstood the few arrows that reached them, the combination of heavy armor and [Deflect Projectile] thoroughly protecting their bodies.

The enemies would need to use a skill like [Piercing Shot] if they wanted to cause any damage to Nasrith’s heavy infantry.

“General, enemy [War Mages] are attempting to open sinkholes beneath our advancing units!”

Nasrith’s eyes narrowed when the voice of Captain Talrasha, leader of his own Warmage Company, resounded in his mind as their charge brought them within three hundred feet of the enemy’s fort. By now, [Archers] from both sides had changed to using [Quick Shot], and there was a near-constant barrage of arrows flying over the battlefield.

“Focus on maintaining terrain stability. Offensive action is not necessary,” Nasrith immediately responded as he idly dodged an arrow aimed for his head by one of the enemy’s higher-leveled [Archers]. “Assign the Desharin to assist you.”

He would normally have his [War Mages] focus on retaliatory attacks, but ensuring that their charge remained uninterrupted was far more important.

It wasn’t long before that proved to be the right decision.

As the frontline of his charge finally reached within fifty feet of the enemy, Nasrith suddenly stopped as he allowed his troops to pass, [Coordinated Movement] ensuring that they instinctively moved around him. He then raised himself up on his tail so that he could get a clearer view of the battlefield as he activated several of the most powerful skills in his arsenal.

[Bolster Unit: Shieldbearer Company]. [Indomitable Charge]. [Victory for Recompense].

[Bolster Unit] did exactly as its name implied, significantly enhancing the abilities of any soldiers assigned to a particular military unit of his choosing. Combined with [Indomitable Charge], the Shieldbearer unit would tear through most enemy forces as if they were a line of cavalry.

When further empowered by [Victory for Recompense], the Crowning skill he received with [Mercenary General], which temporarily increased the stats of anyone under his command, the effect was utterly catastrophic.

Nasrith watched as skills took effect over his [Shieldbearers] seconds before they were about to make impact with the enemy frontlines, causing them to immediately surge forward in a burst of speed that was normally impossible for most heavy infantry. The moment of impact was as loud as it was violent, causing an ear-splitting cacophony as dozens of Fal’Ashar’s [Spear Infantry] were instantly slaughtered and trampled beneath the line of [Shieldbearers].

Nasrith even saw one of the enemies practically explode into a gory mess when a heavily armored ogre charged through them as if they weren’t even there.

By the time the charge had been stopped, it had pushed the enemy line back nearly twenty feet, and somewhere around a hundred of the enemy’s soldiers littered the ground. It was also clear that the enemy troops had suffered a terrible blow to their morale as a result. After which, the frontline devolved into a skirmish as the [Shieldbearers] followed protocol and fell back, allowing the rest of the infantry to move forward and engage the enemy.

The enemy had made a shrewd decision by placing their [Spear Infantry] to the front, allowing them to be sacrificed in favor of protecting their heavy infantry during the charge. It was likely one of the only reasons that Fal’Ashar’s infantry was still able to hold their own.

Nasrith could tell after a few moments of observation that his troops had the matter well in hand and turned his attention to other parts of the battlefield. He’d missed the moment of impact when the [Horse Riders] made contact with the enemy cavalry, but it was clear that they had been very effective.

Around twenty [Scorpion Riders] had been killed alongside their mounts, and Captain Qamaris was swinging his massive war ax through the enemy line with a near manic smile on his face. The ogre often lost himself in the heat of battle, but it had never caused Nasrith problems, so he usually overlooked it.

Fal’Ashar took advantage of its specialization in enchantments as they retreated as closely toward their fortifications as possible, the magic imbued into its walls releasing everything from arcs of lightning to bursts of fire at any enemy that approached. One particularly unlucky soldier was even seized by tendrils of sandstone that erupted from the fortress walls and squeezed to his death.

The troops will need to be reminded of such risks before we siege Fal’Ashar, Nasrith calmly noted before quickly turning his attention to the new unit being trialed.

The Plaguebringers were a fairly impressive sight, covering nearly the entire right flank of the fortress where they had been deployed in a cloud of noxious fumes that seemed to have no effect on them.

Their enemies, however, were not quite so fortunate.

While the majority of them had enough Vitality to not die outright, the poisonous gases caused them to cough, choke, and lose coordination. This made them much easier targets for the Plaguebringers to cut them down with precise attacks, allowing a mere hundred soldiers to pin down nearly three times their number of enemies.

“General! [Scorpion Riders] are ambushing our rear!”

Nasrith immediately looked back just in time to see a large number of [Scorpion Riders] emerging from beneath the sands alongside their mounts. He couldn’t help but admire the quick thinking of enemy [General] for coming up with such a plan given how little time they’d been given before Nasrith’s arrival.

[Bolster Unit: Bulwark]. [Reposition Unit: Bulwark Rear]

Nasrith hadn’t intended to test the new Bulwark template during this battle, given that there were fewer chances to do so when they were the offensive party, but it seemed like an opportunity had presented itself.

From within the main bulk of Nasrith’s army, a group of disproportionately large soldiers rushed to the rear and hastily took positions to defend the vulnerable [Archers] in the back from attacking cavalry. Even with Nasrith using a skill to reposition them, they weren’t able to organize in any particular formation before the [Scorpion Riders] arrived, the enemy likely having their speed enhanced by some type of skill.

However, it became abundantly clear that them being in a formation was unnecessary.

Even as many of the Bulwarks were completely impaled by the enemy’s lancers or filled with venom by their mounts, they remained standing and effectively stopped the enemy’s charge. The large bone protrusions emerging from their bodies prevented any [Scorpion Rider] from coming too close, turning the ambush into a grueling melee.

The Bulwarks weren’t quite as effective as they would have been against [Horse Riders] because the scorpions could better control their momentum and avoid colliding directly with the protrusions. Nevertheless, the Bulwarks accomplished their purpose as well as any heavy infantry and suffered fewer casualties despite their messy formation.

Having seen everything he needed to from the battlefield, Nasrith turned his attention back to the front lines and launched himself into the melee. As one of the highest-level people in Tal’Qamar, his presence on the front lines was a formidable force multiplier.

Taking full advantage of his extreme flexibility as a naga, Nasrith darted in and out of the battle, his movements a blur to weaker foes. He used his spear with deadly precision, each thrust and swipe finding purchase within an enemy’s skull or removing limbs from their bodies. His powerful tail acted as both a weapon and a shield as it deflected incoming attacks and pulled enemies to the ground for easy killing.

One unlucky lizardkin intimately learned just how powerful his tail was. The lizardkin was likely the daughter of some wealthy [Enchanter] within Fal’Ashar, as she possessed even more enchanted gear than anyone else on the battlefield. Her burning scimitar cut through steel with ease while her armor caused any bladed weapon to slide off her like water. This allowed her to slay several of Nasrith’s soldiers, several of whom were even veterans who had fought with him for nearly a decade.

Unfortunately for her, the enchantments did not stop Nasrith from using his 80 points in Strength to crush her and her armor until she was little more than a mangled heap.

As the battle raged on, Nasrith always kept a sharp eye on the state of the constantly changing battlefield, which was how he noticed a subtle shift in the enemy’s movements.

They’re intending to retreat, Nasrith realized as he saw the enemy begin to slowly reposition its forces to the western side of the fortress where they were strongest.

It was perhaps somewhat early for the enemy leader to make the decision to retreat, but it was a wise move given the larger context. Fal’Ashar could easily survive a siege for months, while its allies still needed time for their reinforcements to arrive. Nasrith had successfully placed them on the defensive with his ambush, so maintaining the lives of their soldiers was a high priority.

The more manpower they had to defend Fal’Ashar, the more likely it was that they could survive until sufficient amounts of help came to break the siege.

As the enemy began their organized retreat, slowly evacuating their fort through its westward exit while they fought in heavily defensive formations, Nasrith weighed his options. A direct pursuit could allow them to defeat the enemy’s forces in their entirety and make their future siege that much easier.

Nasrith’s forces were clearly superior, so that was a fight that he was confident they would win.

However, Fal’Ashar had shown itself to be farsighted when it came to properly preparing their escape route and used a wide variety of enchanted traps. Tal’Qamar had suffered a surprising number of casualties in a prior battle when they chased after Fal’Ashar’s forces, only for the sand to disappear beneath their feet and reveal a pit that swallowed nearly fifty soldiers.

Even now, Nasrith’s [Strategists] weren’t certain how they managed to seemingly create an illusion that they could walk across and dismiss at will.

While Tal’Qamar was superior to Fal’Ashar in terms of military might, that didn’t mean that the enemies were helpless hatchlings incapable of defending themselves.

Fortunately for Nasrith, those weren’t the only new tactics available to him. He didn’t know for certain how effective it would be, but there was little risk in making the attempt.

“Captain Talrasha, the enemy is intending to retreat. Deploy your [Aeromancers] and release the Blood Sacs provided to us by the cult of Cerebon around the enemy’s escape route.”

“Yes, sir!”

Nasrith didn’t bother watching the sky as he waited for the attack to take effect. He didn’t wish to alert any particularly vigilant foe, nor would there be anything to see due to the illusionary magic hiding the [Aeromancers] from enemy arrows. It wasn’t until several minutes later that Nasrith saw any evidence of his orders being carried out when several dozen small crimson objects began falling from otherwise empty parts of the sky.

Having seen them up close, Nasrith knew that those objects were actually pulsing, fleshy organs adorned with several writhing tendrils that produced a strange bloody concoction within their center. As they impacted the ground, Nasrith watched the Blood Sacs immediately begin burrowing into the sands before pumping the concoction into the ground.

It took some time and many more Blood Sacs being dropped around the increasingly confused Fal’Ashar forces, but the sands eventually began to churn and shift into a treacherous, mire-like substance. A crimson mist arose from it, causing any soldier who breathed it in to choke and cough up blood.

The cult had intentionally designed the blood produced by the Blood Sacs to be both highly adhesive and quite acidic, so the effect it had on the enemy was extreme. While Fal’Ashar’s soldiers had enough Strength to prevent themselves from being stuck completely in the mire that suddenly surrounded them, it greatly hampered their mobility.

Many of them found themselves struggling to move through the muddy substance as their flesh and armor started to corrode under its influence. What was once the beginnings of an orderly retreat turned into a desperate struggle for survival as the Fal’Ashar soldiers realized that there was nowhere they could flee.

Without mercy, Nasrith ordered his [Shieldbearers] to move forward and trap the enemy while his [Archers] unleashed a torrent of arrows on the immobilized enemy forces. Before long, the battlefield turned into a one-sided slaughter as the blood of Fal’Ashar’s soldiers spilled into the sands and mixed with the same corrosive mire that had ensured their deaths.

It was only once the enemy began throwing down their weapons en masse that Nasrith ordered his troops to cease their attack. The surviving Fal’Ashar soldiers were quickly rounded up, their expressions a familiar mixture of fear, defeat, and relief to have survived that Nasrith had seen countless times over the years.

Nasrith spent the next few hours organizing the aftermath of the battle, counting the dead, gathering them for burial, and inspecting the prisoners for any noteworthy individuals. He also made sure to send out squads to secure the surrounding area and scout for any enemies.

Dealing with the Blood Sacs after they served their purpose was… surprisingly frustrating. They continued to produce their bloody concoction and caused the mire to grow until it started threatening the foundations of the fort. It wasn’t until the Desharin offered to use their Living Sands to destroy them that they finally solved the issue.

Nasrith could tell from their expression that they had enjoyed watching his officers struggle to find a solution and had the urge to reprimand them. It was only because of the slight autonomy that the Desharin enjoyed under Tal’Qamar that he refrained from doing so, unwilling to ruin an overwhelming victory by sowing future problems.

It was only as Nasrith listened to his adjutant’s final report of the battle from the walls of his newly captured fort that he realized exactly how successful this endeavor had been.

“So many? Are you certain?” asked Nasrith, his eyebrows raising as Lieutenant Colonel Anaya relayed the final count of their prisoners. “Then this must have been the entirety of Fal’Ashar’s third division. Did none of them escape at all?”

“Yes, sir. I’m certain. The enemy was too confident in their escape route, so none of them attempted to flee before we released the Blood Sacs,” Lieutenant Colonel Anaya dutifully reported.

Nasrith’s mind raced as he considered the implications of what this meant. Fal’Ashar’s third division was their primary offensive force, and with them removed from consideration, Fal’Ashar would likely be stuck hiding behind their walls for the rest of the war.

While those walls were among the most difficult to besiege of the Qahtani city-states, the results of this battle had placed them in a significantly more favorable position than they had been in before.

“Inform the officers that they’re to prepare the troops to move the moment we have the necessary provisions,” Nasrith ordered as he realized that it was time for Tal’Qamar to seize the advantage. “I want Fal’Ashar surrounded before Jalasa’s military can reinforce them.”

A flicker of surprise flashed through Lieutenant Colonel Anaya’s eyes at the aggressiveness of his strategy, but she didn’t hesitate to salute and leave after being dismissed, ready to carry out his orders.

As Nasrith turned back to look out at the blood-soaked sands that surrounded Qareeshar Oasis, he soon lost himself in thought as he considered everything that had happened today. The only reason that the battle had gone so sharply in their favor was due to the successful ambush made possible by the Desharin, as well as the Blood Sacs provided by the cult of Cerebon.

Without either, they would have never been able to both surprise Fal’Ashar’s by attacking from an unexpected position and prevent them from fleeing at the first sign that they were losing.

Those augmentation templates have potential as well, especially the Mirage Stalker, Nasrith mused as he recalled how much more information they’d been able to gather prior to the fight.

The Plaguebringers and the Bulwark were both extremely useful as well, especially when it came to the increased survivability they offered his soldiers. Nasrith could easily think of several strategies to efficiently deal with them, but less competent enemies would find them troublesome.

Besides, the cleverness and effectiveness of the Blood Sacs showed him that the young human who led the cult, Zareth, was smart enough to develop alternative templates if necessary.

I’ll need to keep them close, Nasrith thought as he decided on his course of action.

From the moment he had chosen [Warlord of Ambition] as his Ruler class, Nasrith had begun making plans for how he would shape the future of Tal’Qamar.

Everything that he had seen today had reinforced that the Hierophant’s Council would be instrumental in securing that future, and he intended to make great use of them.

Chapter 3

“This feels strange to me. Am I paranoid, Rizok?” Zareth asked as he fidgeted in his seat.

“Yes. You generally are,” Rizok immediately responded from behind him, smirking traitorously at his distress before conceding that he was right. “However, your concerns may be warranted in this case. I would have expected High Command to present an after-action report of the battle at Fal’Ashar to the entire Hierophant Council, rather than call you for a private meeting. I’ve always known the officers to prioritize efficiency over all else.”

Zareth let out a groan at that and slumped in his chair, trusting Rizok’s [Aura of Greater Perception] to alert him if anyone began approaching the room.

According to Rizok’s sources, it was his cult and the Desharin who were the greatest contributors to Tal’Qamar’s recent battlefield victory. Neither the ogres nor the monks had participated in any significant way, though Zareth had heard rumors that they would play a greater role in the actual siege of Fal’Ashar. Meanwhile, the Circle of Ghisara remained relatively enigmatic, and it was apparently rather difficult for Rizok’s collaborators to monitor them.

I should ask Farida if High Command requested a private meeting with the Desharin next time I see her, Zareth mused to himself before glancing at his friend. “It would’ve been nice if they could have waited until tomorrow to bring us in.”

Even if the two of them were alone in High Command’s meeting room, Zareth still knew better than to say out loud that he’d been planning to meet with Rizok’s secret collaborators right about now.

“I’m certain that any plans you have can be rescheduled, sir,” Rizok said with a faintly amused expression. “Perhaps for later this evening?”

After he had finished designing and producing the Blood Sacks, Zareth had promptly handed them over to High Command and mostly put the matter out of his mind. The exact date of the military’s attack on Fal’Ashar wasn’t something that anybody could guess given the fluidity of the battlefield, so Zareth had turned most of his attention to research.

He had more priorities than just the war, which was unlikely to be resolved in the near future.

Particularly, he had been devoting most of his efforts to learning more about Divine Essence, the Etherveil, and the secrets contained within his visions. The first two because he had still yet to choose between [Ether Attunement] and [Divine Essence Attunement] for his next skill, and the latter because his visions had mostly stopped since he dreamt about the Conclave burning down an ancient library.

Zareth had a strange sixth sense that he wouldn’t be receiving any further visions until he learned more about the last one. It was as if there was an… inexplicable presence attempting to guide him down a particular path and was content to wait until he was ready to continue his journey. Zareth could tell that it wasn’t Cerebon, as he’d long grown familiar with the god’s attention, so he assumed that it was just a product of [Atavistic Insight].

But regardless of where the feeling came from, it was an annoying itch in the back of his mind that Zareth would be glad to finally satisfy.

When his research failed to do so for more than a week, Rizok revealed that his collaborators, the Tessik, may be able to provide some assistance. Zareth had eagerly anticipated the chance to meet with an organization dedicated to preserving ancestral lizardkin heritage and knowledge.

They would surely have some valuable insights to share and would be much more pleasant than being called in by the local military dictatorship.

Thankfully, Rizok’s response seemed to imply that the Tessik would have no problem rescheduling to after this meeting.

“That sounds like a good idea, Rizok. I’m glad that at least some people are mindful of other people’s time,” Zareth said after breathing a sigh of relief that his plans for the day weren’t completely ruined.

“Are you still upset about Vidhatri pestering you into teaching her your knowledge on biology?” Rizok asked with a knowing expression.

If Zareth weren’t already slumped in his seat, he would have done so in exasperation at Rizok’s mention of Vidhatri. Ever since the two of them had worked together on the Blood Sack and the zealot realized that Zareth knew more than her about biology in some specific instances, especially in regards to animals, she became incessant about learning what he knew.

In Vidhatri’s words, “Acquiring knowledge of flesh in all its glorious forms is to show reverence to the Weaver of Sinews.”

“I don’t mind teaching people, but I just wish that she could be a little less… insistent,” said Zareth, glaring at the lizardkin when Rizok let out a soft chuckle. “It’s not as if I don’t have other things demanding my attention.”

“Well, this is your cult. You could always just tell her that you’re busy,” Rizok suggested.

“I could, but Vidhatri has a very forceful presence about her that makes it difficult to say no outright,” Zareth admitted, running a hand through his hair in frustration before a teasing smirk crossed his face. “Something that I’m sure you’re very familiar with by now.”

Unfortunately, Rizok had grown used to Zareth teasing him about this particular subject.

“Are you jealous, Zareth? I wouldn’t blame you if you were,” Rizok said, his tone challenging as he raised a single-brow ridge. “I believe most humans your age are supposed to be finding a mate, yet you spend all of your time focused on the cult. Perhaps you should take after Vidhatri and learn to have some fun.”

Zareth rolled his eyes but couldn’t help the slight smile that tugged at the corner of his mouth. It had been a long time since anyone had teased him about being single, and he was glad that Rizok felt comfortable enough to do so. The lizardkin was pretty good company now that he wasn’t so rigid all of the time.

Just as Zareth was about to tell Rizok that his life was already complicated enough without adding romance to the mix, he noticed the lizardkin suddenly tense.

“They’re about to arrive,” said Rizok, clearly sensing someone with his [Aura of Greater Perception].

Zareth quickly straightened in his seat as Rizok took a position in the corner of the room, looking the picture of professionalism.

Not long afterward, Garrison-Commander Tholin stepped into the room with several aides by his side. Zareth was faintly surprised that High Command had decided he would be meeting with the highest-ranking officer in Tal’Qamar, rather than a lesser envoy.

“Thank you for arriving on such short notice,” said Garrison-Commander Tholin, his tone gruff as he took a seat on the other side of the table. “If you’re prepared, then let’s begin.”

Zareth had the impression that the dwarf wasn’t the kind of person to waste time on formalities, so he quickly agreed. As expected, Garrison-Commander Tholin immediately began discussing the battle near Fal’Ashar.

Zareth fought to keep his expression mild as he listened to Garrison-Commander Tholin detail the performance of his Blood Sacks and augmentation templates. Zareth was a bit embarrassed when Tholin reported that they had some difficulty in stopping the Blood Sacks from producing the corrosive liquid after it had completed its purpose. He should have added in a kill switch to the design so that it was usable by ordinary soldiers. Still, the Blood Sacks had been quite successful in general.

He’d hoped that they would have a significant impact on the battlefield, but he hadn’t believed that things would go as well as they did. High Command was crediting his Blood Sacks as the primary reason why they were able to either kill or capture a large portion of Fal’Ashar’s military.

Admittedly, this could be attributed to the element of surprise that came with using a brand new weapon on the battlefield and that would lose effectiveness over time, but High Command was still very interested in receiving more Blood Sacks.

This was an opportunity, and Zareth had learned a long time ago to never let those pass him by.

“I’m glad to hear that High Command is satisfied with the performance of my cult’s contributions, Garrison-Commander Tholin,” Zareth said with what he hoped looked like a sincere smile as he addressed the unimpressed dwarf on the other side of the table. “Unfortunately, my cult can hardly afford the costs of the alchemical reagents necessary for so many Blood Sacks given the… modest size of our budget.”

“Aye. I’ve been told that your people seem to need alchemical reagents to do their work, though I don’t see why,” said Garrison-Commander Tholin, trailing off with obvious skepticism as if asking a question.

Zareth said nothing and continued to maintain his polite smile as the garrison commander was given a stack of documents from his aide. According to Tal’Qamar’s laws, he wasn’t under any legal obligation to share the exact details of how his skills functioned unless he was convicted of a crime or it was a matter of national security. Nobody, especially the members of the Great Houses, wanted the government to have too much insight into their unique capabilities.

That being the case, Zareth knew that the garrison commander wouldn’t attempt to force a more specific answer.

Sure enough, Tholin merely snorted before glancing toward the documents and continuing. “According to the estimates that you’ve provided, each Blood Sack costs approximately ten silver in reagents. Is that correct?”

“It is,” Zareth immediately confirmed. Rizok had told him that General Nasrith was well-known for despising corruption, so he had provided a completely accurate estimate of the costs.

Zareth gathered his resolve to haggle over the amount of funding that High Command would provide, determined to convince the garrison commander of the necessity for further resources. His experience with High Command had always been that they preferred to only provide what was strictly necessary in terms of budget.

That was why Zareth had entered the luxury pet business and allied his cult with House Vhelan in the first place. However, his determination was almost immediately replaced by confusion when he heard Garrison-Commander Tholin’s next response.

“Very well. The Office of Resource Allocation will provide the Cult of Cerebon with funding for both the labor and materials necessary to produce Blood Sacks at 13 silver each,” Tholin said decisively, looking up at him with a sharp gaze. “Is that acceptable?”

Zareth was momentarily taken aback. The garrison commander’s first offer was actually higher than he would have settled for, generously paying three silver pieces in labor for less than ten minutes of work. That was a far better wage than any of his [Cultists] would have been able to earn on their own and would ensure that Zareth had no lack of people willing to spend their time making Blood Sacks.

“Yes, Garrison-Commander, that is more than acceptable,” Zareth replied after composing himself, deciding that he wouldn’t push his luck and bargain for a higher amount.

“Good. Then let’s move on to the augmentation templates,” Garrison-Commander Tholin said with a satisfied nod as another aide approached with a set of documents, this time handing them over to Zareth. “Our [Strategists] have reviewed the performance of each template and compiled a set of observations and recommendations on how they may be improved.”

Zareth felt as if he’d suddenly returned back to his days as an intern and was being given a performance review by his supervisor. The formal and standardized approach of High Command wasn’t something that he was used to experiencing in this world and threw him a bit off balance.

Reading through the documents, it became clear to him that High Command was fairly satisfied with the Mirage Stalker but were seeking a few changes to both the Plaguebringer and the Bulwark templates. In addition, they were submitting a formal request to produce either a new template or some other bioweapon that could hasten their siege of Fal’Ashar within the next few weeks.

High Command didn’t actually know what was feasible for him to include in the templates, so they simply informed him which parts were less than optimal and what objectives they wanted to meet in the future. From there, it would be up to Zareth’s discretion to meet those objectives and present a set of options for them to test some time in the future before finally being deployed on the battlefield.

After giving it some thought, Zareth concluded that he didn’t have a problem with any of High Command’s requests so long as he received adequate compensation. As he was about to make that clear, Zareth noticed that the document already included a proposal for funding, and it was more than generous.

In fact, it was so generous that Zareth began to feel unsettled more than he felt appreciative.

Currying the favor of High Command had always been one of Zareth’s goals, but this development had come much faster than anticipated. He’d expected General Nasrith to maintain a much more neutral position.

“Everything here seems acceptable,” Zareth said slowly as he finished reading the documents. After a moment of thought, he decided that it would be a good idea to test the waters. “Although, I have to admit that the financial support being offered is somewhat surprising to me…”

Garrison-Commander Tholin merely raised an eyebrow and replied in an even tone. “Is it? High Command always rewards those who contribute significantly to our campaigns. This is nothing out of the ordinary for a project this important, and you can expect it to continue so long as your cult furthers the interests of Tal’Qamar.”

As he studied Tholin, Zareth felt a trace of confusion.

Am I wrong? Zareth wondered as he scrutinized the garrison commander’s stoic expression. Was it just a misunderstanding and High Command genuinely isn’t treating me special?

Zareth’s understanding of how things worked led him to believe that Tholin should have already revealed what High Command would be expecting in return if there was any ulterior motive. Yet they seemed to be just offering him generous funding without any explicit conditions beyond what his cult was already doing.

The rest of the meeting continued in somewhat similar fashion, with discussions surrounding logistical details and Garrison-Commander Tholin being suspiciously accommodating. By the time the meeting was drawing to a close, Zareth’s paranoia had reached new heights. When Tholin stopped him just before he was about to leave, Zareth almost cheered in relief, certain that the garrison commander was finally going to reveal whatever it was that High Command wanted.

“Before you leave, there are a few documents which you might be interested in,” said Tholin, gesturing toward an aide who stepped forward, holding a sealed envelope. “I suggest that you read it thoroughly when you have a moment.”

Something in Tholin’s tone told him that Zareth should heed his words. After reassuring the garrison commander that he would review it as soon as possible, Zareth accepted the envelope with a nod and left the room with Rizok following close behind.

Glancing meaningfully at Rizok, Zareth felt his friend activate [Aura of Silence] to ensure nobody could eavesdrop on them before speaking.

“I feel like that was strange, and I’m fairly confident that it wasn’t just my paranoia,” Zareth said as they began to make their way out of High Command’s headquarters.

Rizok nodded in agreement, his expression more solemn than before. “Your instincts are likely correct. Feel free to read those documents whenever you like. I’ll prevent anyone from spying while you do so.”

Zareth nodded to his friend in thanks, trusting that Rizok would be able to do as he claimed. Still, Zareth waited until they were a safe distance away and found a relatively isolated alley before carefully opening the envelope and reading the documents within. Once he was about halfway through, Zareth’s eyes widened in surprise, and he hurried to finish reading before handing the documents to Rizok so the lizardkin could do so as well.

“This… is not what I expected,” Rizok admitted, his tone distinctly confused after he finished reading the documents. “General Nasrith is notorious for being impartial in matters of politics. That he would send even a discreet warning that the Circle of Ghisara is monitoring your cult’s activities is uncharacteristic of him.”

Zareth wasn’t particularly focused on whether or not General Nasrith was acting differently than usual. He was far more interested in the actual content of the letter.

“High Command probably just wants to punish them because they were working with the Conclave,” Zareth concluded before focusing on the other, more startling revelations in the document. “More importantly, why are these bastards spying on my cult so closely? We haven’t done a single thing to them after the ritual, which was their fault in the first place.”

It honestly didn’t make much sense to him. First, Kassan attempted to manipulate him into allying with House Kasava, then a family closely related to the naga was caught working with the Conclave, and now the Circle of Ghisara was even monitoring which books he bought. It was all just such an illogical risk for little gain when Zareth hadn’t done anything to antagonize them.

“I’m not certain. I know very little about the Circle of Ghisara aside from their historical alliance with House Khysar,” said Rizok, his expression thoughtful as he returned the documents to Zareth. “If you’re finished with these, then you should destroy them when you have the chance. High Command was discreet about giving them to you for good reason.”

Zareth let out a grunt of affirmation before creating an opening in his palm connected to one of his acid glands. As the documents slowly melted in his hands, Zareth considered how he should move forward given what he now knew.

His efforts to seek High Command’s favor had been somewhat successful so far, if their letter was any indication, and his cult was in a better position than ever. He was leveling at a steady rate, and the war was moving in a favorable direction for Tal’Qamar. Honestly, for the first time since his reincarnation, Zareth felt like everything was going well for him.

Having the Circle of Ghisara threaten that by lurking ominously in the background with unclear intentions was… very frustrating.

Zareth had taken too many risks and compromised too many of the few morals he had left to leave that kind of threat unaddressed.

Feeling determined, Zareth turned his attention back to Rizok and asked him a question. “Is there anyone in the Tessik who would know more about the Circle of Ghisara?”

Rizok studied Zareth as the human’s eyes gained an edge that had become familiar to him. While he’d seen many instances of Zareth being very kind, he’d also seen moments of him being surprisingly ruthless.

Whether it be the ritual he performed against the Conclave or his general lack of hesitation when it came to doing things most would balk at, Zareth had always gained that particular look in his eyes. For a moment, Rizok wondered what Zareth had experienced to become a man who could both compassionately help the city’s poorest citizens while also gruesomely killing his enemies without remorse.

It was an interesting dichotomy, and one that Rizok intended to watch closely. While there was value in being allied to a person with the conviction to do what was necessary, Rizok valued Zareth’s compassion much more than his ruthlessness.

Whether or not the human would maintain that compassion remained to be seen.

Turning his attention back to Zareth’s question, Rizok took a moment to think it over. As he’d already told the human while reporting on the activities of the other religious groups, the Circle of Ghisara was a relatively difficult faction to monitor. However, the Tessik had a long history in Tal’Qamar and had members all throughout the city. If anyone could shed light on the Circle of Ghisara’s intentions, it would be them.

“Yes… I believe I know someone who could help,” Rizok finally said after several moments. “They’re not who I had intended to bring you to initially, but they might be our best source of information given the circumstances.”

Zareth’s eyes lit up in gratitude before quickly becoming suspicious. “You’re hesitant to bring me to meet this person. Why?”

Rizok usually appreciated Zareth’s perceptive nature, but not nearly as much when it was working against him. Still, it would probably be best to bluntly explain the situation.

“While I trust you enough to reveal myself to you, not everyone is as familiar with you as I am,” Rizok said as he met the human’s gaze. “Taking you to meet them would be a risk. One that the Tessik might not take lightly. Are you certain you’re willing to expose yourself to more scrutiny for this information?”

Rizok was glad to see Zareth considering the matter seriously, rather than rushing into it.

“If this is such a risk, why can’t I just write them a letter and have you bring it to them?” Zareth asked, his brows furrowed in confusion. “It would be more troublesome than speaking with them directly, but I don’t want to cause any problems if it can be avoided.”

Zareth’s suggestion spoke well of the human’s intentions, but Rizok still shook his head in denial. “It isn’t impossible to communicate by letter, but I believe it would be best if this was done face to face.”

When Zareth realized that Rizok wasn’t going to elaborate on that, he simply accepted it and continued speaking. “Understood. In that case, I promise to respect their boundaries and keep their secrets. The last thing I want is to alienate potential allies.”

Rizok studied the human for several moments before nodding. “Very well. Then you should switch to your lizardkin form. Nobody within range of my [Aura of Greater Perception] is watching us, so it should be safe to do so.”

Rizok revealing the existence of the Tessik to the Zareth resulted in them trusting each other much more than before, to the point where they even mutually shared information about their skills. When he had heard the details of [Template Body], Rizok had insisted Zareth learn how to turn himself into a believable lizardkin and make that form one of his templates. There were certain places in Tal’Qamar where a human would be distinctly out of place, so it would be necessary if Zareth was ever to meet his people.

After a moment of hesitation, Zareth agreed and went through with the transformation. His human features gradually morphed, his dark skin becoming scaly and green, his mouth growing into a small snout, and a long tail grew from his lower back. It was fortunate that Onara had gifted Zareth garments capable of conforming to his shape, or the transformation would have been awkward for both of them.

Rizok always found it easier to discern the ages of lizardkin compared to humans, which made him realize just how young Zareth appeared in this form. Especially when he was wobbling awkwardly on his digitigrade feet like an unbalanced hatchling.

“Yeah, yeah, laugh as much as you want,” Zareth grumbled as he adjusted to his new form. “Maybe I’ll turn you into a human one day and watch you flounder around like an idiot.”

Rizok shuddered at the thought. To be a human, lacking a tail and completely devoid of scales, sounded like an experience he could do without. Classes had a tendency to shape those who took them, making them more tolerant of their oddities. There were times he felt that Zareth didn’t understand just how disconcerting some of his abilities could come across to others.

“I would much rather you didn’t,” Rizok said as he watched the former human. “Don’t forget to hide your third eye. I think that would be a fairly clear indication of your identity.”

Grumbling, Zareth did as he was told before returning to inspecting his new body. Zareth’s god had apparently gifted him the ability to adjust to any form with unnatural swiftness, and that was quite clearly on display now.

Despite only becoming a lizardkin once before, Zareth moved with the grace of a healthy adult, instinctually moving his tail in a way that always kept his balance. In less than a minute, Rizok determined that Zareth wouldn’t draw any unnecessary attention.

“It seems like you’re ready. Follow me,” Rizok said as he began making his way through the streets.

After he sensed Zareth follow in step behind him, Rizok quickly swept his attention over his surroundings one more time to ensure nobody was following them. There wasn’t, so he began leading the two of them to one of the residential areas near the Spicebloom Bazaar. Most of the people living in this part of the city were craftsmen of various sorts who sold their goods to the foreign [Merchants] passing through the bazaar. As a result, they were fairly well off compared to those living in the Sunrise Slums.

They were also primarily lizardkin, as the Desharin and the ogres tended to maintain their own trading caravans rather than allow foreign [Merchants] to take a portion of the revenue.

Rizok guided Zareth through a relatively innocuous street, subtly nodding toward two old men playing a game of mancala on the side of the road. They both glanced suspiciously toward Zareth but didn’t signal to anyone as they would have if an unwelcome guest were walking into their territory.

Before long, the two of them were walking through streets filled with nothing but Rizok’s people.

Not all of them were Tessik, as something so blatant could have never been hidden from Tal’Qamar’s authorities, but there were subtle signs that the lizardkin living here were quite safe and comfortable. Some couples walked together with tails entwined, a few had painted their scales in colors that symbolized personal achievements, and groups of children played in the streets while being supervised by the community at large.

Rizok dreamed some days of seeing these streets filled with lizardkin wearing their traditional garments and playing their ancestral instruments.

At this thought, Rizok couldn’t help but glance toward Zareth, who was himself glancing at his surroundings with open curiosity.

He hoped that one day, the young cultist would be able to make that dream a reality.

“How much farther is it?” Zareth asked once he noticed Rizok looking at him.

“We’re nearly there,” Rizok reassured, his gaze searching the street ahead as they turned into a familiar street. Thankfully, it only took a moment for him to spot the person he’d been looking for. “In fact, we’ve arrived.”

Rizok nearly laughed at how quickly Zareth’s excited expression was replaced by utter confusion. After all, he had most likely been expecting something akin to a secret passageway hidden in some dark alleyway. Not a completely ordinary street, distinguished only by the unassuming old man with graying scales, who was supervising a group of lively young hatchlings.

The Tessik had learned long ago that the naga were masters of cloak-and-dagger subterfuge and would eventually discover any secret rooms no matter how well hidden. The only way to succeed against them was to exploit their arrogance and audaciously hide in plain sight.

Rizok ignored Zareth’s steadily growing confusion as he approached the elderly lizardkin, who was reciting an old legend to the hatchlings.

“And Ssoryth the Brave returned from Ashar’s Deep with the lost Crystal of Aseth and used its power to protect his village from the invaders from the south. For this, the System proclaimed him worthy of becoming a [Hero].”

A round of amazed exclamations came from the gathered children as Rizok was hit by a sudden wave of nostalgia. The story of Ssoryth the Brave was one his father loved to tell, and he was loath to interrupt. However, he could tell that the story was just about finished, and they did have important things to discuss.

Rizok bowed respectfully to the elder as he approached. “Good afternoon, Carer Othrik. I was hoping you could spare a moment of your time.”

“Ah, Rizok. I wasn’t expecting you,” said Othrik, his voice kind but carrying an undertone of curiosity as he looked meaningfully toward Zareth. “And who is your companion?”

“He is why we are here. We’re hoping we could speak with you in private,” Rizok said, hoping that Othrik would understand the importance of their visit.

Fortunately, Othrik was perceptive enough that he likely suspected something the moment they approached and quickly started ushering the children away, much to their disappointment. Afterward, they were brought into Othrik’s home, which was a modest sandstone building at the end of the street.

Rizok had noticed Zareth wearing a guilty expression from the moment the children were sent away, and he was unsurprised to hear the young cultist begin apologizing the moment they were no longer in public.

“I’m sorry for interrupting. If I’d known that this was an inconvenient time, then I would have rescheduled until later.”

“Oh, don’t worry yourself, young man,” Othrik said as he closed the door behind them. “We lizardkin raise our children communally, with a single [Carer] watching over them. We consider it the best way to take advantage of the skills offered by that class.”

Rizok immediately tensed while Zareth continued to nod in understanding before suddenly catching the implication in Othrik’s words. By then, the elderly lizardkin had passed them and walked further into his home before quietly hissing out a word in the old tongue and making a few strange gestures.

Rizok was intimately acquainted with the Tessik’s preference for illusionary magic, so he wasn’t too surprised when he saw the long rows of bookcases materialize along the edges of the otherwise unremarkable room. Each of them was filled with relatively pristine scrolls and was [Scribe]-created copies of much older manuscripts that were safely hidden somewhere even Rizok did not know about.

As Zareth openly gawked at the display, Othrik walked over to a wooden basin connected to a long, flexible tube and placed a few Shikaya leaves into the bowl atop. After lighting the leaves with a whisper and quick gesture, Othrik filled the room with an aromatic scent as he inhaled deeply from the pipe before turning his attention back to his guests.

“You’ll have to forgive me. When you reach my age, some comforts become necessities,” Othrik said, exhaling a cloud of scented smoke that lingered in the air as he gestured toward a few cushioned seats arranged around a low table. “Have you ever smoked from a qalyan before, young man? I’m not certain how much of our culture Rizok has chosen to share with you.”

Rizok knew that Zareth was more adaptable than most, but he still took mercy on the human and decided to give him a moment to gather his bearings.

“I haven’t had the opportunity, Honored Lore Guardian,” Rizok said as he took one of the offered seats and replaced the mouthpiece of the qalyan before taking a gentle puff. “Though I’m sure he would be interested in trying. In the time I’ve known him, Zareth has always been respectful and eager for new experiences.”

Thankfully, Zareth seemed to have pulled himself together and understood Rizok’s prompting, quietly taking a seat after a moment of hesitation. It was a good decision, as Othrik took his role very seriously and always reacted better to people who acted respectfully.

The smoking of Shikaya leaves with guests was once traditional among lizardkin when meeting new people, as the scent was particularly pleasant to their people and was an effective way of having them relax. The practice was much less common in modern times, but the Tessik did what they could to keep it alive.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, sir. If I may ask, how did you know who I am?” Zareth asked, his voice formal as he studied the qalyan with cautious skepticism and began replacing its mouthpiece. “Also, how did you do those things with the illusions and setting the leaves on fire? I haven’t sensed you carrying any enchanted items.”

Othrik remained silent, not bothering to answer the question as he watched Zareth with an indulgent smile as the young cultist took his first tentative puff from the qalyan. Zareth immediately began to cough as he grew used to the smoke, but it was clear that the Shikaya leaves were having their effect when the tension slowly left his body.

Seemingly pleased, Othrik finally responded as he took a seat of his own. “Rizok has always been the unsociable sort. Even if you were meant to meet with a different member of the Tessik today, it seemed clear what was happening when he approached me with a strange lizardkin.”

Put like that, it wasn’t exactly the greatest leap of logic.

“Would have been rather awkward if you were wrong,” Zareth grumbled as he took another puff and broke into a fit of coughs.

Rizok winced as he patted the human’s back, wanting to remind him to be respectful. Fortunately, the Lore Guardian seemed to be in a good mood and only chuckled.

“As for the fire and the illusions, I would think you would recognize it given your recent interest in the Etherveil,” Othrik responded, immediately drawing Zareth’s undivided attention.

Sensing the direction that the conversation was moving, Rizok decided that it was time he explained why he had arranged this meeting.

“Lore Guardian Othrik, I’ve brought Zareth here because he has been facing several mysteries that I believe only someone like you may be able to answer,” Rizok said respectfully, interrupting before his companion could bombard the elder with every question that he’d been recently dwelling over. “Particularly, he is interested in learning more about the nature of the Etherveil and Divine Essence, as well as any information you may have about the Circle of Ghisara.”

Despite his politeness, Rizok could tell that Othrik was still a bit reluctant about having an outsider in his home, which was natural given his role. In Rizok’s experience, the best way to earn trust was to be blunt about these sorts of matters when possible and reveal your intentions from the beginning.

“If you’ve ever heard of a Kethr’syssen, I’d like to hear about that as well,” Zareth eagerly added as he leaned forward in obvious interest, looking like the perfect image of a curious hatchling.

Zareth had consented to having the details of his vision shared with the Tessik so that they could attempt to research the matter, so the Lore Guardian was already well aware of the word’s context.

Othrik hummed in acknowledgment but said nothing for several moments as he quietly assessed both Zareth and also Rizok. Although the human had agreed to ally himself with the Tessik, bringing him here was a significant show of trust on Rizok’s part. The Lore Guardians were the very foundation of their organization, and any one of them being discovered by the Great Houses would be a disaster.

The Tessik would continue on as they had several contingencies in place for such an event, but it would still be a significant setback.

Rizok had been watching Zareth for quite some time now and had grown to trust him. While the human sometimes claimed to act in self-interest, Zareth had a stalwart sense of loyalty to those he considered his own and a fierce protective instinct. Rizok believed that Zareth would make for a truly valuable ally for his people if that bond could be fostered, and he hoped Othrik would be able to see that as well.

“I’ll assume that Rizok hasn’t explained to you my role in our community,” Othrik finally said, his expression not revealing anything as he tapped his fingers across the table. “The authorities believe me to be a [Carer] who looks after our community’s children. I am, in fact, a [Lore Guardian] who has devoted his life to preserving the ancient wisdom and secrets of our people. Rizok has taken a significant risk revealing my identity to you.”

Everything that Lore Guardian Othrik had said so far was the truth, but the elder’s importance was even more significant than he implied.

In the past, the Tessik used to rely on [Lorekeepers] to preserve their ancestral knowledge. That was until the Great Houses eventually discovered this and began monitoring any lizardkin [Historians] in Tal’Qamar, ensuring they didn’t take the Class Evolution to become [Lorekeepers].

This one move nearly destroyed the Tessik entirely until one of their members discovered that [Lore Guardian] could also be acquired through the combination of [Carer] and [Instructor]. This was possible so long as the individual demonstrated a deep commitment to preserving knowledge and imparting wisdom. Not only that, but acquiring the new class awarded a truly powerful Crowning skill that allowed the Tessik to successfully hide their survival from the Great Houses.

[Keeper of Knowledge] prevented any secrets shared by the [Lore Guardians] from being further disseminated without their permission. Any words, letters, or any other means of communication would become utterly indecipherable. This was why Rizok felt this meeting should take place face to face, as Zareth would inevitably need to earn the trust of a [Lore Guardian] if he wanted to learn what he needed from the Tessik.

“I understand the risk that Rizok has taken and how important it is that your people remain a secret,” Zareth said solemnly, seeming to understand just how serious the situation was. “I assure you, my intentions are only to protect my cult and learn what you have to teach me. Rizok isn’t to blame for his decision to bring me here, and I will leave immediately if you believe I’m a risk to your people.”

Othrik was silent for several tense moments as he and Zareth locked gazes. Finally, the elderly lizardkin seemed to find what he was looking for and nodded in approval.

“Rizok isn’t the only member of the Tessik who has decided to join your cult. I’ve heard good things about you from not only them but also those familiar with your deeds in the Sunrise Slums,” said Othrik, his expression losing its sharp edge and growing warmer. “It is for this reason, and your friendship with Rizok, that I will choose to trust you. The Tessik have too few allies to reward those who approach us genuinely with suspicion.”

Rizok let out a breath of relief as Zareth bowed respectfully to Lore Guardian Othrik.

“Thank you. I appreciate the trust you’ve placed in me,” said Zareth, hopefully genuine in his gratitude.

“You’re welcome, young man. Now let us address the reason why you’re here,” said Othrik as he extended one of his aged hands. “I believe many of your questions to be connected, and I believe the best place to begin is with the Etherveil. Please, take my hand.”

Zareth did so after only a short moment of hesitation.

Rizok wasn’t able to say anything before due to the effect of [Keeper of Knowledge], but he was actually more familiar with the Etherveil than most. While his class didn’t offer an equivalent to [Ether Attunement], being able to channel even the smallest sliver of Ether was necessary to activate any Pre-System enchanted items.

This was how Rizok had deactivated the illusionary enchantment on the Nephalan book he gave to Zareth despite not being a [Mage]. Modern enchanted items were simultaneously more restrictive and more prolific than their Pre-System counterparts, being usable by anyone but requiring a magical source such as a Sunstone.

Rizok could sense the magic flowing from Lore Guardian Othrik into Zareth and watched as the human’s expression lit up with awe.

“What is this? It feels like I’ve been connected to… something boundless and ancient,” Zareth said, voice filled with wonder. “It’s… everywhere. I can sense its presence all around us, but it’s hard to describe. Like a scent that I never noticed but which I somehow know has always been there.”

That was a far more vivid description than when Rizok had experienced this same process. It had taken him multiple attempts before he was even able to sense the Etherveil, even with the assistance of a Lore Guardian, yet Zareth had done so immediately.

“What you’re sensing is the Etherveil in its purest form,” Othrik explained with the same encouraging smile he always wore when teaching. “It’s an ancient, boundless energy that has underlied the fabric of our world since far before the System came into existence. A source of power through which anyone is capable of performing magic. I suspect that your class is similar to my own in that it offers a skill which increases your proficiency in channeling the Etherveil. Even if you have yet to choose this skill, it would explain why you are able to feel it so vividly.”

That made sense to Rizok. [Lore Guardian] was similar in some respects to [Atavistic Apostle], at least in their shared focus on ancient knowledge. It made sense that they would share other commonalities as well.

“I see. But why do so few people use the Etherveil?” Zareth asked, his brows furrowed in confusion as he reluctantly released Othrik’s hand. “I’ve been told that it’s weaker and less efficient than wielding magic through the System, but I struggle to see how something so vast could ever be weak. Not to mention the fact that not everyone is a [Mage]. And how does the Etherveil relate to Divine Essence?”

Zareth immediately released a deluge of questions that he had accumulated over several weeks of fruitless research. Othrik merely chuckled in amusement and began answering them one after another, seeming more than willing to share what he knew now that he felt Zareth could be trusted. Meanwhile, Rizok stood up to retrieve refreshments even as he paid close attention to the admittedly interesting conversation.

None of Zareth’s questions were ones that Rizok had ever thought to ask, which made this a learning experience for the both of them.

Apparently, the Tessik had managed to preserve stories from the time of the System War, which heavily confirmed that while the Etherveil was as strong as ever, it had definitely become more difficult to channel the moment the System came into existence.

That… carried worrying implications and made Rizok wonder if those groups of anti-System lunatics knew more about the world than he expected.

Rizok also learned that even for classes that offered skills related to the Etherveil, mastering its use was a challenge on its own. However, Othrik still believed that doing so was worth the effort, especially for classes like [Lore Guardian] or [Atavistic Apostle], which didn’t access magic via the System and could benefit from the versatility.

Divine Essence was said to seep into the Etherveil from the domains of the various deities that existed throughout the world. Compared to Ether, it was significantly more potent and infused with the specific attributes of the deity from which it emanated. In addition, it was also believed to passively improve the bodies of anyone who channeled it, bringing them closer to the divine ideal represented by that deity.

This made it both more unique and more powerful, but also more restricted in its effects compared to Ether. Especially given that some deities considered it an insult if you used their Divine Essence without permission or in a way that conflicted with their ethos.

One did not wish to make an enemy of a god, as Cerebon had so thoroughly displayed to everyone in Tal’Qamar.

“The Etherveil is like the ocean. Vast, deep, and open to all who navigate its depths,” Othrik was saying as Rizok returned with a plate of crispy Qahtani Beetles, a popular dish among lizardkin. “Divine Essence, on the other hand, is akin to a mighty river flowing from a specific source. It has a direction, a purpose, and a distinct character shaped by the deity it originates from. As for how these differences manifest in practice, I have several scrolls which record specific examples that my people have encountered.”

As Zareth absorbed this information, he absentmindedly ate one of the beetles and let out a hum of appreciation, much to Rizok’s amusement.

He wondered how long it would take the human to realize what he was eating.

“Interesting. That implies that if I were to choose [Divine Essence Attunement], I could potentially access the abilities of gods other than Cerebon,” Zareth mused as he chewed his snack. “Is that why some gods form together into a pantheon, like the Conclave’s gods? It would make sense if a group of gods agreed to allow each other’s followers to access their Divine Essence if it meant strengthening their collective influence.”

“That would explain much about the few other pantheons that I’ve encountered through my travels,” said Rizok, offering his perspective for the first time since their conversation began. “There have been a few occasions when I noticed a [Priest] wielding magic outside of their god’s domain.”

“Indeed. Pantheons are difficult to maintain due to the disparate priorities of the gods but are powerful on the occasions when they work cohesively,” Othrik added as he shifted his attention to the plate of Qahtani Beetles. “It is fortunate for us that the Tessik noticed signs of the Conclave falling into infighting prior to their removal from Tal’Qamar.”

Rizok hadn’t known that, but it wouldn’t surprise him. In the rare periods over the past few years when he was in Tal’Qamar and not participating in a foreign war, the members of the Conclave barely seemed to interact with followers outside of their specific temples. It was sometimes difficult to believe that the Conclave had such a long history of communication and made him wonder what mutual interest had kept them together for so long.

A lull fell over the conversation as Zareth and Rizok digested the implications of everything they had learned, while Lore Guardian Othrik seemed content to enjoy his food. Zareth finally noticed what he had eaten and glared at Rizok, but otherwise said nothing as he turned his attention back to Othrik.

“You said that all of my questions were related, but I don’t see how,” Zareth said, breaking the short period of silence. “What does the Circle of Ghisara monitoring me have to do with the Etherveil or Divine Essence?”

“Hmph. Very little. It would be more accurate to say that I suspect from my readings that the word you heard in your vision, Kethr’syssen, is related to the Etherveil, and the Circle of Ghisara’s interest in you is related to this word,” Othrik slowly explained, though he seemed uncertain of his own conclusion. “Kethr’syssen translates roughly in our tongue as Nexus of Magic. The Tessik hold vague references to places in the world where the Etherveil is particularly powerful, though we have no proof of their actual existence.”

While that was only speculation, Rizok’s instincts told him that the Lore Guardian was likely on the right track. Something like that would definitely be worth burning down an entire library to monopolize, as had happened in Zareth’s vision.

“The Circle of Ghisara is a particularly troublesome group to the Tessik,” Othrik said with a scowl, his eyes hardening. “They are often the first to hoard any new scrolls about ancient history, and we go to exceptional lengths to protect ourselves from the sight of Seers. It would not surprise me if one of them saw your cult acquiring a scroll that they were interested in and decided to keep a close eye on your activities.”

While Othrik didn’t outright mention [Keeper of Knowledge] and the history of the [Lore Guardians], Rizok was smart enough to read between the lines. The elder clearly suspected the Circle of Ghisara of having been responsible for revealing them to the Great Houses in the past and blamed them for the Tessik’s near destruction.

It was a bit humbling for Rizok to realize just how much of Tal’Qamar’s history he was ignorant of, if he hadn’t even been aware of this.

It also significantly increased the level of threat which he viewed the Circle of Ghisara to be in regards to the Cult of Cerebon. Zareth must have reached a similar conclusion because his eyes once again hardened in the same way that they had earlier.

“Then it seems that the Circle of Ghisara is a mutual enemy, Lore Guardian Othrik,” said Zareth, his tone firm and decisive, and he locked gazes with the elder. “If we work together, it would be much easier to learn their true intentions and also discover the location of this ‘Nexus of Magic’ that the Conclave is attempting to hide.”

Othrik looked surprised for a moment but soon let out a fierce grin and pushed Zareth to shake tails as a sign of their agreement.

Before long, Zareth was nestled in a corner fervently reading scrolls that covered a wide variety of topics, from the specific applications of Ether and Divine Essence to the various historical records that referenced anything resembling a Nexus of Magic.

It only took a few minutes for Zareth to become completely immersed in his research and completely forget that Rizok was in the same room, something he was rapidly growing accustomed to.

“Interesting lad that you’ve brought to me,” Othrik remarked as he joined Rizok, watching Zareth with open curiosity as the two of them enjoyed some tea on the other side of the room. “He won’t be able to bring any of these scrolls to that spire of his, of course, but I wouldn’t mind him coming here to learn from me about history and the Etherveil. He would have made an excellent [Lore Guardian], had he been born a lizardkin.”

Rizok agreed wholeheartedly, though he was somewhat surprised that Othrik felt the same way. He was fairly familiar with the Lore Guardian and expected a much more difficult battle convincing him to trust Zareth.

“I’m glad to hear that, Lore Guardian. But I can’t help but worry that there’s a reason the Tessik seems so willing to share its knowledge with an outsider,” Rizok said quietly, once again deciding it best to be direct. “Am I wrong?”

“Always too perceptive for your own good,” Othrik said with a sigh, glancing at Rizok with an exasperated expression as he took a sip from his tea. “You’re not wrong, but there’s no need for you to be concerned about it quite yet. Suffice to say, the Tessik dearly needs that young man to be successful in his ambitions. At least until he is successfully rewarded with his own plot of land. Otherwise, you would not have been able to take as many liberties as you had, regardless of whose son you were.”

Rizok stiffened at the implied censure but quickly forced himself to relax. He’d known that he’d taken many risks regarding Zareth, but he still believed it was worth it.

Fortunately, Lore Guardian Othrik seemed to share his opinion.

“So for now, there’s no need to worry. Thanks to you and the boy, our people have finally found the opportunity we’ve been waiting for,” said Othrik, turning his gaze back to Zareth as a hint of steely resolve grew in his eyes. “Whether it’s regarding his contributions to the war, his interest in ancient knowledge, or whatever other ambitions come his way, the Tessik will aid him. And he will repay us in return.”

Rizok could tell that the Lore Guardian meant that partially as a threat, implying consequences if the Tessik weren’t given what they were promised in return. If that were to happen, Rizok would likely also face consequences as the one to reveal the Tessik to Zareth. However, he wasn’t overly worried. The human had never shown any signs of being the type of person to go back on his word.

“I have no doubt that he will, Lore Guardian Othrik,” said Rizok, reaffirming his decision to trust Zareth.

Othrik studied him for several moments before nodding decisively and standing from his seat, his genial smile reappearing as if it had never left. “I’m glad to hear that. How about I go get us a few more beetles? They’re truly lovely during this time of the year.”

As Othrik left, Rizok found himself releasing a breath he hadn’t realized that he was holding. While he was many times stronger than Lore Guardian Othrik, the man still had a formidable presence in his own right and was a high-ranking member of the Tessik for a good reason.

Directing his gaze back to Zareth, who was still completely engrossed in his research, Rizok hoped that he had made the right decision in tying his own fate to the human’s.

Chapter 4

All four of Vidhatri’s eyes snapped open the moment she awoke, adrenaline flooding her body the moment she regained consciousness.

There was a common skill among high-leveled [Fleshwarpers] that allowed them to intentionally modify their brains. Vidhatri had used the skill to augment her adrenal gland, causing it to trigger upon awakening. She wanted to ensure that she would never be lethargic upon awakening, always ready to respond to any threat or situation that required her immediate attention. The young leader of the cult she was currently guiding had expressed his envy of this ability but didn’t trust anyone aside from himself to make modifications to his brain.

An unnecessary caution on his part, but still likely a wise one. Vidhatri had done things with the brains of her enemies that would turn the stomachs of even the most hardened [Fleshwarpers].

Vidhatri turned her attention to the sensory organs that she had spread around her chambers, various eyes and ears tethered to her body by thin tendrils of flesh. The eye placed near the window allowed her to see the desert sun slowly rising above the horizon and casting its light on this strange city. Meanwhile, the ear by the door alerted her to the residents of the spire slowly stirring as they prepared to begin their day.

Zareth’s apprentice, Tamir, was already on the ground floor and performing the morning service as was his duty, leading the cult’s early risers in prayer.

Focusing on the chambers belonging to the spire’s [Cultists], Vidhatri was gratified to discover that they were empty. This indicated that they were already awake and prepared for the day ahead as she had ordered. Today was a significant day for them and the cult at large, and she would have punished them if she had found them to be lax in their readiness. Perhaps not as severely as she would have if they had dared to do such a thing in Dehkshetra, as she doubted that Zareth would tolerate such measures.

Satisfied with her inspections, Vidhatri rose from her bed and prepared to give her prayers to the god who had saved her life, which she preferred to do alone. The moments when night transformed to day or when day transformed to night were the best times to pray to Cerebon. There were some among her fellow faithful who forgot that the Weaver of Sinews held dominion over transformation as much as he did over flesh, but Vidhatri was not one of them.

After approaching her chamber’s window and kneeling in the direction of the rising sun, Vidhatri spoke the same prayers she’d recited every morning for two decades.

“Praise be yours, Weaver of Sinews and Harbinger of Change. May your will forever guide your chosen worshipers to their ever-changing paths.”

Vidhatri spent the next fifteen minutes praying, then another half an hour in meditation. Serving the god of transformation necessitated more introspection than most realized, and meditation was an indispensable method of avoiding personal stagnation. Her experiences since arriving in Tal’Qamar made this period of reflection all the more important, as she had been heavily affected by everything she had seen.

It was all far more confusing than she would have liked. Vidhatri forced away the traitorous wish that the Flesh Father had chosen anyone else but her for this assignment. Unfortunately, Vidhatri was the only one with the ability to both protect herself and rapidly learn the region’s language, due to her possession of [Parallel Mind] and [Perfect Recall].

Such skills were usually exclusive to either [Mind Mages] or individuals who achieved a very high level in a knowledge-based class, but Vidhatri’s… unique history made her an exception.

There were other people with these skills among the Dehkshetra temple, but none of them had Vidhatri’s experience in combat and were too valuable to risk being sent to another continent. While Vidhatri herself was far from a disposable novice, the temple would not be overly inconvenienced by her loss.

However, she was certain that the temple would have placed far greater importance on this place had they truly known what she was going to find.

Cerebon’s cult in Tal’Qamar worshiped Vidhatri’s god in ways far different than she had ever heard of or experienced. The [Raja] of Dehkshetra would gleefully cull or expel every worshiper of Cerebon in the city if he could truly do so without severe consequences, while the authorities in these dry and sandy lands actually supported the cult’s presence.

Naturally, the circumstances of each city were vastly different. Zumair was a continent in a state of near-constant conflict, and Dehkshetra was a city that had been thoroughly molded by that experience. Without the power granted by sapient sacrifices, Tal’Qamar’s cult would have already been destroyed had they been located on Zumair.

This desert was relatively peaceful in comparison, with the region’s monsters kept suppressed by its elementals and war only just breaking out recently.

Her time in Tal’Qamar had been one of the most peaceful periods of her life… at least as far as she could recall. Her memories prior to becoming a member of the Dehkshetra temple were vague, as that was before she acquired [Perfect Recall], but what she did recall made her sincerely doubt that there was anything among them worth preserving.

Vidhatri lightly shook her head as she forced those thoughts away, refocusing on her immediate goals.

Today was significant for the young [Cultists] who had fallen under her tutelage, so Vidhatri rose from her meditative position and quickly reabsorbed her extraneous sensory organs, the tendrils retracting smoothly as they merged with her flesh. Wearing the same nondescript robes she’d been wearing when she arrived in Tal’Qamar, she exited her chambers.

She largely ignored the wary expressions of the spire’s occupants as she approached the common room, long since accustomed to being feared by the weak. It was of no consequence. So long as they did not work against the Weaver of Sinew’s interests, she cared little about the opinions of others. Especially not the opinions of people with so little faith that Vidhatri barely considered them her compatriots.

It was only because she recognized how relatively new the cult was in Tal’Qamar and how much they had yet to learn that she tolerated their presence at all. Once the common room was in sight, Vidhatri paused and took a good look at the sight before her.

Meldorath’s Heart had finally spread its influence beyond the laboratory and to the spire’s lowest public floor. The cult had reacted with predictable confusion at the stone beneath their feet turning into flesh, but Zareth had quickly calmed them and explained the benefit that it provided their cult. Now they seemed relatively comfortable with the situation, as expected by the God of Flesh’s servants. Vidhatri had advised Zareth that he should prioritize taking advantage of the situation and adding more flesh golems to the spire’s lowest floor for defensive purposes, but that took time.

Several of the [Cultists] under her care had shown interest in becoming [Flesh Animators] and focusing on the creation of golems. Vidhatri would nurture that interest and mold them into useful tools for the cult’s future.

Fortunately, this place was not entirely devoid of potential or those who had already begun to grasp the true essence of their faith.

Vidhatri’s mouth slowly curved into a smile as she spotted one such individual lecturing a shame-faced young [Cultist] and decided to continue her descent. She was fond of Onara, as the human had shown herself to be devoted to Cerebon. Vidhatri had even gone so far as to inquire about potential Class Evolutions for the human in her most recent letter to the Dehkshetra temple.

Deciding to see what had drawn the ire of the [Seamstress], Vidhatri approached the scene quietly.

“What’s wrong with you, lass? There ain’t a chance I’m letting you be presented to the public for the first time looking so shabby,” Onara admonished as she inspected the [Cultist], a lizardkin girl by the name of Saurika who was wearing the cult’s new ceremonial garbs.

While the young [Cultist] had obviously rushed when donning the garb, Vidhatri had to admit that Onara had done well when designing them. The garbs themselves were somewhat similar to those worn in Dehkshetra, being long, flowing robes that reached down to the ankles, but with a distinct Tal’Qamari flair.

Rather than the dark reds and blacks favored in Vidhatri’s home, these garments were a light purple reminiscent of the twilight sky. It was complemented by one of the local headdresses of the same color and adorned with a modified version of Cerebon’s insignia across the back, a central eye encased in a circle with six equally spaced protrusions moving opposite the direction a shadow would travel on a sundial.

It was only the eye that had been added to Cerebon’s insignia, obviously referencing the gift bestowed on Zareth that was quickly becoming associated with this cult.

Aside from the garbs, the [Cultist] had also begun etching several patterns into her scales after acquiring [Permanent Flesh Manipulation] in preparation for this day. It was an acceptable show of devotion, and Vidhatri found herself nodding in approval as Onara used a skill that instantly adjusted the ceremonial garb.

“There you go. You’ll not disgrace our god with your shoddy appearance,” Onara said after she finished inspecting the lizardkin girl.

“Thank you, Seamstress Onara. I meant to be more careful, but I was in too much of a rush after waking up this morning,” said Saurika, smiling toward the older woman. “I… never had anyone teach me how to properly wear anything this fancy before.”

“It’s not a problem, lass. This little cult of ours needs to stick together,” said Onara, her expression growing warm. “Now go on then. The rest of the [Cultists] are eating breakfast. You better join them before people start flooding into the spire.”

The lizardkin girl expressed her gratitude one final time and hurried away to the dining area, hastening her steps when she caught a glimpse of Vidhatri.

“Your attention to detail is commendable, Seamstress,” Vidhatri said as she approached the elderly human woman. “Both in your design of the ceremonial garbs and in how they are worn. This cult is fortunate to have your skills and dedication.”

Onara smiled warmly at the compliment, a trace of pride in her eyes. “It’s my way of serving, Senior Fleshwarper. Haven’t felt this useful since I was a young girl. More people in Tal’Qamar see Cerebon’s grace every day. It’s an honor that my work will be the first thing people see when they arrive to be treated by our [Cultists].”

Vidhatri studied the [Seamstress] for several moments and saw nothing but a sincere dedication to their cause. It made her feel at ease to be in the presence of such devotion when the other members of this cult were so lacking in that regard.

Vidhatri and Onara spent the next several minutes in genial conversation as they discussed the day ahead. It was only recently that the [Cultists] had all acquired [Permanent Flesh Manipulation], which opened many options to the cult that they didn’t have while the skill was possessed by its leader alone.

Zareth’s time was valuable, and he was wise enough to understand that he shouldn’t waste it offering his services to every misbegotten soul in Tal’Qamar. Instead, he focused primarily on matters that could best further the cult’s interests, such as his experiments or, more recently, on research.

Regardless, this meant that the cult could now offer its services in bodily modification and healing to a much wider population as a means of expanding its influence. Within a few hours, the spire would be open to anyone in Tal’Qamar who wished to receive these services.

Vidhatri felt that it was an… interesting tactic, though not one that could have worked in Dehkshetra given their reputation.

“Hopefully, Zareth actually got enough sleep last night to be well-rested for today,” Onara said once their conversation drifted to the cult’s young leader, her expression filled with concern. “I know that the lad’s been chosen by our god to spread Cerebon’s teachings through Tal’Qamar, but he could really learn the concept of moderation.”

Vidhatri couldn’t help but hum in agreement. Zareth was rather focused on his personal projects recently, which Vidhatri would normally encourage, but not when she was left ignorant of much of his activities.

When Zareth wasn’t in his laboratory creating new tools for Tal’Qamar’s military, his attention was on the flesh golem he had placed in a location unknown to her. It was only after multiple inquiries that he revealed to her that the golem was located somewhere that would allow him to research “several important matters.“ Vidhatri was not yet trusted enough to be told what those important matters actually were, so she would simply have to defer to Zareth’s judgment for the time being.

Vidhatri didn’t like it. Nor did she like how much Zareth seemed to trust the handsome lizardkin heathen. While she had been tasked to aid the boy in his endeavors, the Flesh Father had also instructed her to form an honest evaluation of Tal’Qamar’s cult. For what purpose, Vidhatri wasn’t certain. But that wouldn’t stop her from achieving her objective.

“Tell me, Seamstress. What is it about Zareth that causes you to be so concerned for him?” Vidhatri asked, deciding this was an excellent opportunity to learn more about this cult’s workings. “Out of everyone else in this spire, I can sense that it is you who are the most in tune with Cerebon’s teachings. I assume that you must have some reason for this.”

Onara was silent for several moments, her expression suddenly solemn and she considered what to say. When she finally responded, it was with a voice filled with melancholy.

“There used to be a time when I was a member of Suhail’s church, back when I was young. Not all that different from a lot of folks, given that [Suhail’s Boon] helped deal with the sun and made him one of the more popular of the Conclave’s gods in Tal’Qamar. Ma and Pa raised me to worship him, and I didn’t see a reason not to for most of my life.”

Vidhatri normally disdained those who turned away from the deity they’d sworn themselves to, but she kept that to herself. Onara seemed like the loyal type, so the fault likely lay with the heretic god.

“Despite how the folks in charge talk about them now, the Conclave wasn’t all that bad,” said Onara, her expression distant as she thought back on her past. “At least, they never asked for tithe any more often than the [Guardsmen] were asking for bribes. It wasn’t that they were evil; it’s just that they got a bit too comfortable and felt entitled to what they had. Folks who live in the Qahtani are used to a rough life, so I never thought much about it. That changed for me a bit over a decade ago when the last famine hit the region.”

Vidhatri recalled reading about said famine while conducting her research into Tal’Qamar, something she had ample time for while sailing across the ocean to this continent. It had supposedly been caused when a group of Adventurers accidentally unleashed some manner of monstrosity in the center of Eldamir’s agricultural heartland.

Tal’Qamar had a sizable number of [Desert Farmers] to supplement its food supply, but a notable portion of its food came from imports.

“Many families, including mine, suffered terribly during that time,” Onara continued, her voice thick with emotion. “The Conclave had been getting worse over the years. Each temple was in competition with another and often just ended up making the situation worse. My husband wanted us to fall in with the Desharin, nomads who had their own ways of withstanding the famine, but I refused. It wasn’t until near the end of the famine that I realized Suhail wasn’t worth my devotion, but my family had already fallen apart by then.”

Vidhatri hummed in sympathy. A woman like Onara with a useful crafting class could sustain herself without a husband, but it was clear that losing him had affected her deeply.

“After that, I wasn’t too keen on following any more gods or joining any groups,” Onara said after taking a moment to collect herself, voice carrying a trace of bitterness. “When the Conclave was run out of the city and a batch of new gods popped out of the sands to take their place, I kept my distance. I’d heard rumors before about Zareth and how he only sold his services up in the Heights, so I was surprised when I heard about his cult spending gold to help folks in the slums and decided to attend one of his sermons out of curiosity.”

Vidhatri listened carefully as Onara’s eyes lit up, and she explained everything she had felt after going to Zareth’s temple for the first time.

About how Cerebon’s teachings to change and better oneself resonated with her in a way the Conclave never had and inspired her to do better. Onara spoke about how the cult’s members helped her business and provided a communal support that she hadn’t felt in decades. That was especially the case after Zareth healed her son of injuries caused by the Conclave’s agents.

Most of all, she spoke about how Zareth truly felt like a Tal’Qamar native, while the Conclave had always divided its focus elsewhere.

She gave examples of this, such as Zareth marking portions of the Slums as neutral areas away from the gangs by painting his cult’s insignia on certain walls or offering to help people start a new life if they wanted it. Vidhatri was old enough to understand just how difficult it was for those with criminal classes to find work and escape their pasts.

Onara felt like joining the cult while it was still young so that she could help shape its future was the best thing she could do to repay Zareth and prevent them from becoming like the Conclave.

Vidhatri would never allow such unrestrained decadence to foster among Cerebon’s chosen, but she appreciated the sentiment nonetheless.

Once Onara had finished speaking, Vidhatri had reached the conclusion that this cult was surprisingly adept at fostering loyalty among members, despite its rather lax policies. She would need to continue monitoring to ensure that loyalty was truly directed toward Cerebon rather than solely toward a charismatic leader, but she hadn’t yet seen signs of that becoming a significant concern.

It didn’t surprise her that this “Conclave” had been a bed of corruption and inefficiency, as the Amritaya in Zumair was similarly filled with squabbling deities. The Weaver of Sinews showed his great wisdom in his decision to not involve himself with a pantheon.

Overall, Vidhatri couldn’t help but reluctantly approve of Zareth’s unorthodox methods.

“Thank you for sharing your story, Seamstress. It is always pleasant to hear how others found their way into Cerebon’s embrace,” Vidhatri said genuinely, crossing her two lower sets of arms and bowing slightly. “Your journey serves as a reminder that true faith forms in the most trying of times.”

Vidhatri herself had been found by the Dehkshetra temple in her darkest moment, so she knew her words to be true.

“You’re welcome, dear. You’ve done good for this cult after coming here, helping Zareth shoulder some of his burden,” Onara replied warmly. “The lad has a passionate and kind soul… but he can be a bit intense at times. It’s good that there’s someone like you to support him.”

Vidhatri nodded, accepting the praise in the spirit that it was meant. It was her duty to further Cerebon’s cause, and he seemed to have plans for Zareth. So long as that remained the case, she would do what she could to ensure that the human’s ambitions were successful.

After sharing a few parting words with Onara, Vidhatri decided to turn her attention to the day’s task. She could hear a servant approaching Zareth’s room to awaken the human and wished to have the cult ready before he joined them.

Corralling the [Cultists] under her supervision was no great burden, as they all respected her enough to follow her commands. Vidhatri was heartened to witness the cult’s camaraderie as they all assisted each other in preparation for the day ahead. A high-level [Baker] named Gurza used the spire’s kitchen to prepare snacks for incoming guests while younger members of the cult helped prepare the same side room that had been used to augment High Command’s soldiers.

The atmosphere was relaxed and slightly anticipatory as everyone seemed eager to offer their services to the city’s heathens. Before long, the spire’s doors were opened and the first of Tal’Qamar’s citizenry were welcomed inside by Tamir.

Vidhatri had expected that Zareth would be the one to greet the guests, but he had emphasized his desire for the cult to act with as much autonomy as possible. It was an approach much different from the Flesh Father, and she wasn’t quite certain how to interpret it.

Vidhatri enjoyed the sight of the heathens recoiling at the flesh being spread throughout the structure by Meldorath’s Heart. Although they were clearly disgusted, none of them were willing to abandon their original reasons for coming to the spire and reluctantly allowed Tamir to usher them inside.

By the time Vidhatri spotted Zareth descending the stairs to join them, accompanied by his handsome guard and fully dressed in a more ornate version of the cult’s ceremonial garbs, the spire’s common room was humming with activity.

Even Zareth seemed surprised to see how efficiently things had been organized in his absence. He took a moment to scan the room, nodding in approval and offering polite smiles to any follower who greeted him. While the human lacked the Flesh Father’s awe-inspiring presence, Vidhatri had to admit that Zareth possessed a certain degree of charisma that made him well-suited for his role.

Rizok was the first of the pair to catch sight of Vidhatri, so she rewarded him with a sultry smile that had the lizardkin’s green scales flushing a darker hue and caused her to feel a surge of satisfaction. The heathen was surprisingly easy to embarrass considering how experienced he should be from his time in the military.

Vidhatri would never admit this, but she found it rather endearing.

Zareth’s gaze eventually landed on Vidhatri, and he began to approach the alcove from which she had been monitoring the proceedings.

“Senior Fleshwarper, good morning,” said Zareth, his tone polite as he greeted her. “Your organizational skills are appreciated. I wasn’t expecting the spire to be ready to receive guests for at least another hour.”

Vidhatri offered them both a slight nod, her four eyes assessing the human with a measured gaze. While there were very few signs of it, she had enough experience with people capable of manipulating their forms to notice the slight signs of fatigue coming from him.

Onara was correct that the human had been working too hard recently, which was impressive given how physically resilient Cerebon’s chosen could become.

“While I provided my assistance, it is your followers who most deserve praise,” Vidhatri responded firmly, turning her gaze back to the common room. She watched as a young lizardkin who barely reached her waist in height scurried through the crowd, barely avoiding tripping over her robes as she carried refreshments. “You’ve done well building this cult. They have a sense of community that is rare for such a young group, and they are all highly motivated.”

If only they were as motivated to serve Cerebon as they were to aid heathens, Vidhatri mused to herself but did not say aloud. She was wise enough to know that devotion was like a plant that needed to be nurtured and grown over time.

Zareth seemed surprised at her words and turned to look at his followers as well. Vidhtari had formed the impression that Zareth was the type of person who rarely stopped to appreciate what he had built. The human tended to be primarily focused on his own ambitions, always moving on to the next task.

It was a commendable trait, but one that could cause problems if not moderated.

“Ah, that’s good to hear,” said Zareth, his expression soft for a moment as he watched a crippled ogre stumble into the spire. “This has been a long time coming. I couldn’t tell you how many people who approached me about seeking our services I had to turn down due to lack of time; those with injuries who couldn’t afford to see a [Healer] or those who simply wanted changes in their appearances. Although, it’ll be some time before we can help anyone who wants major alterations to their bodies. Aside from myself, I would only trust you to change someone’s species or gender.”

Vidhatri had never imagined herself offering her abilities to help heathens… but the idea didn’t cause her to feel as much disgust as she expected. She’d experienced firsthand how the gifts offered by Cerebon could drastically improve someone’s life and was reluctant to deny others that opportunity.

Over the next few hours, hundreds of heathens arrived at the spire to receive the cult’s services, including several who brought their children along to receive healing. They were prioritized by order of need with sashes of various colors given to them by Onara, a system that Vidhatri had never seen before but approved of.

The most complicated patients, such as those who were born with certain afflictions, were given dark red sashes and brought to either Vidhatri or Zareth for treatment. Otherwise, the two of them left the work to the young [Cultists].

Tal’Qamar’s military authorities occasionally sent them wounded soldiers who had been injured during the ongoing siege of Fal’Ashar. It was cheaper for them to regrow limbs than to accomplish the same feat with a [Healer] or [Alchemist], so their services needed to be reserved lest they suffer from skill exhaustion.

Vidhatri watched the proceedings carefully, taking in the sight of an ogre woman who broke into tears of joy after her child was cured of a deformity to his left arm that he had been afflicted with since birth. Apparently, her people viewed such anomalies as bad omens, an indication that the child’s ancestors had been guilty of grave sins. Now that the boy had been cured, she was hopeful that he would no longer be shunned by her community.

The sight raised complicated feelings within Vidhatri…

Heathens were normally crying for very different reasons when they entered the Dehkshetra temple, usually being enemies of the cult who had been captured and were to be sacrificed. To see a woman on her knees and crying out in gratitude to a [Cultist] she had trained was a new experience for Vidhatri.

Inevitably, the [Cultists] who had been working tirelessly began to show signs of fatigue, and the spire’s visitors were instructed to return at a later time. A few heathens had become belligerent at the news, but Vidhatri had no problems persuading them to leave.

Afterward, the mood within the spire was celebratory, and the young [Cultists] were showered with praise by the rest of the cult’s members. Most of them were either bashful or beaming with pride. Vidhatri decided to allow them this moment as she returned to Zareth’s side. The human also had a proud smile on his face, even as he divided his attention between here and whatever his golem was doing.

It made her curious about his activities, so after offering congratulations on his cult’s successes today, she decided to direct their conversation to more serious matters.

“Have you made any progress in your research?” asked Vidhatri, nodding toward Rizok in acknowledgment after he used a skill to create an area of privacy around them. “I hope the notes sent by the Dehkshetra temple regarding Divine Essence and the Etherveil were of use. You have been extremely busy recently, and I can tell that you feel burdened.”

Zareth had asked her to send for that knowledge from the temple shortly after he had achieved his Class Evolution. Vidhatri knew little about the topic itself, but Zareth seemed to be weighing a choice between specializing in one power or the other, so she had used [Perfect Recall] to quickly learn what she could on the subject after the temple sent the notes.

Personally, she was partial to Divine Essence as anything related to the divine was surely more powerful than mundane magic.

Zareth hesitated and quietly studied her for several moments, most likely considering what information she could be trusted with. Vidhatri would have looked down on the human if he simply shared everything without caution, so she waited patiently while he made his judgment.

Finally, Zareth seemed to reach a decision and hesitantly began to share his concerns.

“Yes, the information from the Dehkshetra temple was very useful, especially in regards to learning more about Divine Essence,” Zareth said slowly, nodding to her in a display of gratitude. “However, that isn’t really what has been worrying me lately. I’ve been attempting to learn more about an enemy of my cult called the Circle of Ghisara and haven’t been able to find anything of substance.”

Vidhatri listened as Zareth explained that the worshipers of a heathen god had been making aggressive actions toward his cult and his speculations as to their motives. She could tell that Zareth was omitting several important details, such as where exactly he was getting his information, but Vidhatri didn’t press the issue.

Apparently, he suspected that the heathens were interested in some unspecified discovery that he was attempting to uncover. Zareth had been working to confirm that, along with receiving lessons on manipulating Ether from another unspecified source, but hadn’t had much success.

When combined with his efforts to create a weapon for the city’s authorities to aid in the siege, there was little surprise that he was stressed.

“You should allow me to capture one of these heathens and deliver their soul to our god,” said Vidhatri, immediately offering the first solution that came to mind. “The Weaver of Sinews will peel apart their secrets and share them with you if these heathens are indeed a threat to your cult. You need not worry. I can be extremely subtle when circumstances call for it.”

Zareth’s expression grew complicated, in the same way it always did when Vidhatri mentioned offering their god his due sacrifices. Vidhatri had assumed the human was simply soft at first, but she had learned more of Tal’Qamar and now believed there was a slight merit in maintaining a relatively good relationship with the heathens.

Still, she was not lying when she claimed that she could capture a single heathen without anyone realizing her involvement.

“I… appreciate your offer, but it’s impossible to ensure that you won’t be discovered given that Ghisara is the Goddess of Oracles and Mysteries,” Zareth replied hesitantly.

It was a good point, and Vidhatri silently chastised herself for not having considered it earlier. After giving it some consideration, she concluded that the best counsel she could offer was one of patience.

“These kinds of groups always reveal their intentions eventually,” said Vidhatri, her voice thoughtful. “If your suspicions are correct, then you could potentially lure them into exposing themselves, potentially by spreading rumors that you’re making progress on finding whatever you’re searching for. Until then, you would be better served focusing on this city’s war and procuring land for your cult. Political power is ultimately the best deterrent for your enemies.”

It wasn’t exceptionally insightful advice, but Zareth seemed to appreciate it nonetheless. Their conversation drifted to a variety of other topics, such as Vidhatri’s thoughts on Divine Essence and Ether, as well as Zareth’s efforts to decipher the tome of Meldorath. That project, at least, had seen some amount of progress after the human became an [Atavistic Apostle].

It seemed like the tome did indeed contain information about the System War, though in far more detail than any source Vidhatri had ever encountered. Unfortunately, they had only succeeded in deciphering the first few pages, which obviously didn’t provide them enough context.

It would take a significant amount of time before they managed to learn anything of interest from the tome.

After nearly half an hour of conversation, Zareth suddenly tensed as his gaze grew distant. Vidhatri knew the human’s attention had shifted to his flesh golem and waited patiently for him to refocus on their conversation.

“You’ll have to excuse me, Senior Fleshwarper,” Zareth said once he regained his composure. “There’s an important matter that requires my attention. If you need me, I’ll be in my laboratory.”

Vidhatri nodded calmly and watched as the human swiftly departed. She expected his heathen guard to obediently follow along but was surprised when she noticed the lizardkin hesitating and glancing toward her.

“Oh? Is there something that you need from me?” Vidhatri asked with a sly smirk. “If you want more of my… attention, then you should wait until after the sun falls to seek it. I’ll be more than happy to see you then.”

She could tell that the heathen was slightly flustered by the implication in her words, but he very quickly recovered and looked at her with surprising determination.

“I would like that, but that isn’t what I wanted to ask,” said Rizok, momentarily pausing nervously before he seemed to regain his courage. “I was wondering if you would like to join me later on a trip through Tal’Qamar so that I could welcome you to the city. There’s a shivarath [Cook] near the Spicebloom Bazaar who specializes in food from Zumair, and I thought you might enjoy the chance to taste something from your homeland.”

Vidhatri would never admit it, but Rizok’s invitation was possibly the last thing she’d expected to hear.

Vidhatri knew that her form was appealing to many, which was to be expected given that she’d personally crafted it. However, even her fellow shivarath worshipers in the Dehkshetra temple often found her to be… overbearing.

There were some who enjoyed that, but never for very long.

Vidhatri took a moment to study Rizok, forcing back a snort of amusement when the lizardkin subtly preened under her gaze. He was quite the specimen, with beautiful scales and admirable musculature earned through a lifetime of combat. Even in a peaceful environment, Rizok maintained an air of alertness and strength that Vidhatri found appealing.

However, none of those were the reason why she was actually considering accepting the heathen’s invitation. Rather, it was the utter earnestness in Rizok’s gaze which caught her off guard.

Vidhatri couldn’t recall anyone ever looking at her in such a way.

“I suppose I can spare the time to indulge you,” said Vidhatri, hiding her surprise behind a teasing smile. That became more difficult when she saw Rizok’s eyes light up with genuine excitement. “We’ll see if this [Cook] is as genuine as you claim, and you can show me whatever sights in Tal’Qamar are worth seeing. It will be useful to understand this city from a native’s perspective.”

Rizok’s smile widened at her acceptance, showing off an impressive row of teeth that could likely tear through flesh with ease. “You won’t regret it. We can go later this evening.”

After the two of them spent the next few moments settling the details of their romantic outing, Rizok excused himself to attend to his duties. Vidhatri watched him leave, enjoying the sight of his strong tail waving from side to side behind him. Once Rizok had fully disappeared from view, Vidhatri allowed the small smile that had been playing at the edges of her lips to grow.

As she turned her attention back to the common room, she couldn’t help but think that her time in Tal’Qamar may not be as unpleasant as she had once anticipated.

Zareth dearly wished that he had a more efficient method of communicating through his golem than directing it to slowly transcribe his thoughts. He’d always found it awkward to write using Tal’Qamar’s weird reed calligraphy pens, and that was made even worse when he had to do so using a flying eyeball with tiny hands.

Still, he forced his golem to frantically write down his thoughts as Lore Guardian Othrik shared the discovery he’d made while researching the Nexus of Magic.

“Are you certain that the scroll said Ashar’s Deep?” Zareth wrote down using his golem’s clumsy fingers.

The elderly lizardkin glared before writing down a response and waving it in front of the golem, confirming that the scroll had indeed referenced Ashar’s Deep and that he didn’t appreciate having his expertise doubted.

Zareth let out a curse of frustration as he took a seat in front of his workbench after informing the Lore Guardian that he needed a moment to think.

He didn’t actually have anything urgent to do in his laboratory and just needed some privacy while he sorted out the implications of what he had learned.

It had been several weeks since Rizok first brought Zareth to meet the Lore Guardian, and he had learned a lot during that time. At first, Zareth had decided to dedicate the majority of his time to studying the Etherveil. After all, who wouldn’t jump at the chance to train in magic when given the opportunity?

Zareth had already had plenty of impossible experiences since his reincarnation, but he was convinced that nothing would ever feel as otherworldly as when he first touched the Etherveil.

It was difficult to put into words, but connecting to the Etherveil was like experiencing a reality beyond his physical senses, a realm where thoughts and emotions flowed like water and air. It was truly beautiful, and Zareth had to stop himself from immediately choosing [Ether Attunement] so that he could experience it even more closely.

Instead, Zareth had allowed those sensations to fade and took a step back in order to judge his options in a more logical manner. From what he had been told, [Ether Attunement] would allow him to effectively become something akin to a [Mage], while [Divine Essence Attunement] would allow him to do things that were more limited but also more potent in comparison.

The records from the Dehkshetra temple claimed Cerebon’s Divine Essence could accomplish things like turning metal into flesh or even more esoteric abilities unavailable to most of his followers.

Zareth had always believed that emphasizing his specialties was superior to spreading himself thin, so the concept of [Divine Essence Attunement] appealed to him at first.

Still, he wasn’t in a rush, so Zareth waited and allowed Lore Guardian Othrik to give him a few lessons on manipulating the Etherveil.

Sitting up from his seat, Zareth drew upon that near-infinite source of energy that existed just beyond his senses and began weaving it as the Lore Guardian had taught him.

It wasn’t particularly difficult and even felt natural as a thin thread of Ether began to form between his fingertips. The Ether would only be visible to him unless it became concentrated enough to fully manifest in the physical world. Reaching this level of concentration shouldn’t be all that difficult according to the Tessik’s Pre-System records.

However, Lore Guardian had introduced him to one of the greatest mysteries of the modern-day Etherveil during his very first lesson.

Zareth stopped playing with the thread of Ether and attempted to push more energy through it, testing the limits of what he could do. The thread of Ether began to glow brighter, becoming more substantial by the moment, until the energy Zareth had been channeling just suddenly… disappeared.

It was impossible to tell where it had gone or what had become of it. According to Lore Guardian Othrik, focusing too much Ether into a single location always caused this result and was a phenomenon that had never been mentioned in the Pre-System era.

Supposedly, not even the greatest of [Archmages] understood the cause of it.

After creating several thin threads of Ether as he had been taught and being careful to avoid reaching the dissipation threshold, Zareth slowly willed them to converge into a relatively simple pattern and pushed his will into the threads.

A single moment later, a ball of light manifested in front of Zareth, and he found himself smiling at the magical experience of manually casting the very first spell he had ever learned.

Unfortunately, even this light spell had taken him weeks to learn and wasn’t all that useful when he could turn his skin bioluminescent with little effort. He would need to choose [Ether Attunement] if he wanted Lore Guardian Othik to be able to teach him more than just a small cantrip, which was why his choice was leaning in that direction.

It was also why Zareth had grown significantly more interested in discovering the location of the so-called Nexus of Magic that his [Atavistic Insight] was leading him toward.

If he could harness its power…

Now, Lore Guardian Othrik had uncovered credible accounts pointing him toward Ashar’s Deep, a massive underground cavern system near Fal’Ashar that was relatively popular among Adventurers. This was consistent with occasional references to something underground that he’d gleaned from the tome of Meldorath.

He wished that he could just hire the Pathfinders to explore it like he did with Meldorath’s temple, but Ashar’s Deep was far more vast and dangerous than the temple of a dead goddess.

That being said, actually accessing it in the first place was likely to be the greatest obstacle.

Zareth was pulled from his thoughts as he sensed Rizok making his way down the stairs into his laboratory. Glancing back at his friend, he immediately noticed that the lizardkin seemed to be in a better mood than when Zareth had last seen him.

He had a good idea why.

“Glad that you finally joined me, Rizok. Did something pleasant happen?” Zareth asked teasingly as he leaned back in his seat.

“Nothing that you need to worry about,” Rizok immediately responded, his smile not wavering for a moment as he joined Zareth’s side and quickly changed the subject. “Why did you suddenly come down here? Did Lore Guardian Othrik find something of significance?”

Reminded of his current conundrum, Zareth straightened and explained to his friend that he needed to gain access to Ashar’s Deep. Naturally, Rizok immediately saw the issue with this.

“If the reports we’ve received on the ongoing siege are accurate, then that’s a problem,” said Rizok, his expression becoming more serious. “Fal’Ashar may have been caught off-guard out in the field, but they are more than prepared to protect their city. They are well stocked, have a well-sized garrison, and the walls surrounding Fal’Ashar have the best enchantments in the entire Qahtani Desert. Even an [Archmage] would find it difficult to damage those walls. Successfully seizing the city could potentially take up to a year.”

Zareth had been a veterinarian in his first life, not a historian, but even he knew that it wasn’t unheard of for sieges to last that long. Fal’Ashar was no mere town, and it was instead a powerful city-state that had invested significantly in its own defense. Not only that, but their morale would not break so long as the rest of their allies remained capable of fighting back against Tal’Qamar.

That being the case, General Nasrith would most likely decide to leave behind enough soldiers to keep Fal’Ashar contained and move on with the rest of the war. Given what he had just learned, that would be against Zareth’s interests.

After failing to learn anything more about the Circle of Ghisara, Zareth had reached a similar conclusion as Vidhatri and decided to instead focus his attention on the war. This decision was now further reinforced by the importance of Ashar’s Deep.

However, every idea he’d come up with to help with the siege had been handedly dismissed by Rizok.

“Are you certain that the Blood Sacks wouldn’t be useful?” Zareth groaned as he rubbed his head in frustration. “Didn’t the reports claim that they caused structural damage to the fort captured by General Nasrith after seeping into the ground for too long?”

“You shouldn’t underestimate the ability of a [Strategist] to adapt to new circumstances,” said Rizok, ruthlessly dashing his hopes. “The first rule of warfare is to assume that your enemy is every bit as clever as yourself. Even if they haven’t yet developed a complete counter to the Blood Sacks by now, the enemy will have received reports of its approximate capabilities and understood the implications. That fort was too close to Fal’Ashar to not be under constant scrying. It’s worth an attempt, but I would not expect much to come from it.”

Zareth wasn’t surprised by Rizok’s response, even if it frustrated him. It turned out that sieging a city was actually more complicated in this world than in his previous one.

Vitality prevented most natural famines, while Fal’Ashar would have ample countermeasures to any magical methods of forcing a surrender. Siege spells, magical plagues, poisoned water supplies, and infiltration from above or below—all of these were common strategies used for millennia in this world, and thus thoroughly planned against.

Zareth waited for a sudden burst of inspiration to hit him like it did for the Blood Sacks when he was facing a similar impasse, but no such convenient solution was coming to mind this time.

“There’s no need to be disappointed that you’re unable to develop an idea that’ll allow High Command to end the siege outright,” said Rizok, attempting to provide some reassurance. “Situations like the Blood Sack are exceedingly rare. No offense intended, but nobody is expecting you to be a genius [Strategist] capable of orchestrating victory after victory. In war, it’s better to focus on simply tipping the scale in our direction and trusting your fellow soldiers to do the rest.”

Zareth didn’t like it, but he knew that Rizok was right. He was too focused on finding that one idea capable of ending the siege outright. Instead, it would be more fruitful to consider a multitude of smaller, cumulative methods that could gradually weaken Fal’Ashar’s defenses and morale.

At least enough so that General Nasrith wouldn’t decide to abandon the siege and move on.

Maybe if I can even develop something that works with the cooperation of one of the other religious groups, Zareth mused as he made his way over to the cages where he kept his magical creatures.

Zareth felt this new perspective was worth exploring. Ever since he had touched the Etherveil, he had been able to better sense the magic within these creatures and felt like it would be easier to modify and apply their abilities to his augmentation templates.

He had attempted to make use of this newfound sensitivity to further his efforts to create flying humanoids, which would allow High Command to bypass many of Fal’Ashar’s defenses. Unfortunately, flight required significant amounts of trade-offs to make work naturally and thus needed equally significant magical compensation to become viable.

After an hour of experimentation, Zareth realized that his sensitivity to Ether simply wasn’t strong enough to allow for any options he hadn’t already tried before, which made him want to do something… slightly impulsive.

[Ether Attunement] would allow him to delve deeper into the mysteries of the Etherveil, enhancing his magical abilities and possibly opening new avenues for his research.

[Divine Essence Attunement] would likely enhance his abilities as well, offering him more options. It wasn’t immediately clear to him what Cerebon’s Divine Essence could do that Zareth couldn’t already accomplish with his own skills, but the notes from the Dehkshetra temple implied that it would equip him with more specialized, potent abilities.

Regardless of whichever option he decided, there was a good chance it would give him the boost that he needed. Given how little information existed about them both, it was unlikely that Zareth would learn more than he already had, so he needed to make a decision.

Zareth’s mind raced as he considered both options, filled with a strange certainty that this decision would have significant consequences on his future. Both carried their advantages, but he kept finding himself being drawn to one in particular.

Zareth had always been drawn in by the allure of the unknown and the promise of discovery, a trait which had grown even stronger after becoming an [Atavistic Apostle].

Both were mysterious in their own right, but the bizarre interaction between the Etherveil and the System made [Ether Attunement] particularly intriguing. In addition, the “Nexus of Magic” being hidden by the Conclave was explicitly referenced alongside the Etherveil.

Besides, something inside of Zareth rebelled at the thought of giving up that infinite ocean of potential represented by the Etherveil in favor of Divine Essence.

Perhaps he would live to regret the decision, but in this moment, Zareth felt that the path of [Ether Attunement] called to him like nothing ever had before.

Before he could second-guess himself, Zareth made his decision.

[Ether Attunement] has been acquired!

Instantly, something within Zareth expanded in a way that was difficult to explain. It was far more than just the surge of power that came with increased stats and instead felt like a shift in his very essence.

The Etherveil, once a vague sensation that existed in the back of his mind, exploded into an array of magical textures and ethereal flows. He could feel the minute differences between the Ether in Rizok’s enchanted ring and the Ether within the caged Glassweaver Spider. Zareth somehow knew that the former was mental in nature while the latter was related to light.

He hadn’t even known that Ether could carry such aspects. Even a cursory sweep over the creatures he had collected revealed complexities he had never imagined.

The Crystalline Songbird had a mesmerizing melody that could enchant listeners that he’d been attempting to replicate, but he could now tell that was a useless endeavor. Shielding the singer from its effects would be impossible, while the Crystalline Songbird simply lacked the mental capacity to be affected by its song. Instead he was far more interested in the strange gravity-manipulating magic within the creature’s wings.

It seemed obvious in retrospect that a literal flying rock would need an unnatural method to fly.

The Starshell Tortoise was capable of sustaining itself purely on lunar light, and Zareth now felt reasonably confident he could grant such an ability to his golem. It would be useful to give his flying camera a fully rechargeable battery so that it could spy for him without needing occasional maintenance.

The Whispering Willow Wisp, which looked like a simple orb of light floating from side to side, was…

Well, Zareth still wasn’t quite certain what was going on with the wisp. Its movements had seemed random to him before, but he could now tell that it was following the currents of Ether moving through his laboratory like a jellyfish drifting in the sea.

He didn’t know how that could be useful to him, but Zareth was still overjoyed by all the possibilities that came to mind when he looked at the rest of his collection.

“Rizok, I’m going to be down here for a while, so you should go spend some time with Vidhatri,” Zareth said, ignoring his friend’s protests as he turned his full attention to his experimentations.

There were so many new ideas that he wanted to test, both for the siege on Fal’Ashar and for himself. After all, it had been quite some time since Zareth had made any truly significant alterations to his own body.

Now that his options had expanded, he felt that it was time to change that.

Chapter 5

It’s hard to imagine that I may have never learned how to properly use Meldorath’s Heart if I had chosen a different Class Evolution or skill.

Zareth felt utterly fascinated as he poured a shimmering silver liquid into an open chamber of the pulsing organ located in the center of his laboratory. Meldorath’s Heart immediately began extracting the Ether from the Argent Leaf Extract before directing it into a separate chamber.

He observed as the contents of the chamber gradually mixed with other types of Ether extracted from other alchemical reagents, which had been poured in beforehand, Skywhale Oil and Aether Quartz Dust in this particular case.

Zareth focused intently on the resulting mixture, letting out a sigh of relief once the Ether began emanating the impression of being… light and buoyant. It was similar in nature to the anti-gravity properties he had sensed within the Crystalline Songbird and was exactly what he was hoping for when mixing the ingredients [Alchemists] used to make a Floating Elixir.

Now comes the difficult part, Zareth mused as he let out a deep breath and closed his eyes.

The way it had been explained to him, the Etherveil was a sort of living tapestry which reacted to the minds of any sapient who connected to it, even to the point of possessing its own type of memory. Those with exceptional willpower or extreme skill in wielding the Etherveil could effectively “etch” patterns and shapes into this tapestry while also imposing meaning onto them.

Any person who then shaped Ether into one of these patterns, or Sigils as the Lorekeeper called them, would be able to summon a magical phenomenon related to the original caster’s intent. Each use of these Sigils would etch them more and more deeply into the Etherveil, making effective and reliable means of casting spells.

However, it was only the simplest of concepts which could be imposed onto each Sigil, which was why communities accumulated a variety of these Sigils and learned to build them atop one another over time.

According to Lore Guardian Othrik, the most complex of spells were akin to a meticulously crafted palace, built stone by stone by a dedicated [Architect]. The Tessik had several records that implied that Pre-System magical communities used to come together to construct these elaborate magical structures over generations, allowing them to call upon greater and greater spells.

Naturally, this kind of practice had fallen out of favor in the modern era. What community would dedicate decades or even centuries of labor to replicate a spell that a sufficiently leveled [Mage] could cast with a simple mental command?

In addition, the vast majority of Pre-System Sigils were now fundamentally impossible to replicate due to the phenomenon of Ether threads dissipating after becoming too large. Post System Sigils were much more fragile as a result, which obviously caused problems.

The Tessik only bothered to construct their own Sigils because they held an ideological reverence for the past and the concept of strengthening their community. Even the strongest of their Sigils could be cast by a mere level twenty [Mage]. It would require a community utterly dedicated to the creation of Sigils diligently and persistently laboring for a significant amount of time to compete with System-aided [Mages].

If that was the end of the story, then Zareth would have never even considered choosing [Ether Attunement] over [Divine Essence Attunement].

At least, not unless he somehow gained access to a large number of modern Sigils for him to utilize.

Fortunately, Zareth had recalled that sapients weren’t the only ones capable of using structured magic in this world.

Refocusing on the task at hand, Zareth followed along as the anti-gravity-aspected Ether was pumped into the largest chamber of Meldorath’s Heart. The Ether was then automatically pulled into fine threads and woven into various complex patterns by some unknown force, slowly forming it into a Sigil.

[Ether Attunement] had granted Zareth a far greater insight into the actual mechanisms of Meldorath’s Heart. It was like he had been like an ignorant child blindly using a complex machine’s pre-programmed settings and was only now understanding the machine’s true abilities… and limitations.

Even with the enhanced sensitivity granted by [Ether Attunement], Zareth found it difficult to sense the imperfections within the Sigil being woven by Meldorath’s Heart. Experimentation had shown that these minuscule flaws were the sources of many issues he had observed in previous attempts, such as occasional failures or weakened effects.

Zareth could now fix these imperfections as they happened, improving the overall stability and efficacy of his augmentations. He could now also understand why he’d had so much trouble achieving certain enhancements, such as in the case of the one he was attempting now.

Come on. Hold together, you finicky little shit, Zareth silently urged as the Sigil was slowly being infused into the chunk of biomass prepared by Meldorath’s Heart.

Before acquiring [Ether Attunement], Zareth had never been able to understand why certain attempts at creating magical biomass would fail. The first thing Zareth did after he gained access to Meldorath’s Heart was to feed it the most powerful alchemical reagents he could get his hands on in hopes that he could augment himself into some kind of unparalleled being.

He’d also once paid the Pathfinders to capture the strongest monsters they could with the intention of grafting their biologies to his own for similar reasons.

In both cases, Zareth found that these experiments would go catastrophically wrong more often than not, either not working at all once transferred to his body or backfiring in exotic ways. One memorable example was when he fed Meldorath’s Heart with the Essence of a Primal Fire Elemental that he’d purchased for a small fortune. It had resulted in the biomass sample melting away in less than a second.

This phenomenon restricted him to relatively weaker materials, and now he could see why.

Zareth gritted his teeth as more and more flaws grew within the Sigil. It would be difficult for him to explain what he was feeling to someone who couldn’t sense the Etherveil, but the closest analogy was that it felt like he was trying to thread a needle with a rope. The Sigil was simply too large and complex to “fit” within the biomass and was slowly beginning to unravel.

When the Sigil finally collapsed and Meldorath’s Heart failed to imbue the biomass with the intended properties, Zareth couldn’t help but curse and slam his fist against the ground.

While he’d had some success with anti-gravity biomass before, none of the samples he’d made were anywhere near potent enough to lift a humanoid. The best he’d been able to do was successfully create the flying cats he’d been working on.

“I assume that your experiment has once again failed? You would have more success if you weren’t so opposed to utilizing more traditional methods.”

Zareth sighed and glanced toward Vidhatri, who had begun assisting him with his experiments when she wasn’t busy elsewhere in the spire. While she didn’t have any expertise in the Etherveil, Vidhatri knew more than him about the biology of magical creatures and often proved invaluable in his research.

“The Sigil began degrading exponentially faster toward the end of the process,” said Zareth, ignoring her suggestion that he create magical biomass via sacrifice. She already knew what he thought about sapient sacrifices and was only bringing it up out of habit. “I thought that it might be possible to hold the Sigil together long enough for it to fully integrate into the biomass, but I’m beginning to believe that’s beyond my current ability. I either need to significantly increase my Control so that I can repair it faster or learn how to increase the capacity of the biomass to hold more complex Sigils.”

Lore Guardian Othrik informed him that a higher Control stat allowed for better manipulation of the Etherveil, but he didn’t have any idea how to change the biomass’s Sigil Capacity.

It seemed like that was the factor preventing Zareth from developing certain types of augmentations, such as humanoid flight.

With his experiment having officially failed, Zareth sighed and returned to his primary workbench. That was his closest attempt at creating a sample of biomass with anti-gravity properties potent enough for humanoid flight.

Although it hadn’t been successful, even failures were educational while conducting experimental research.

He was now confident that certain types of magical phenomena were simply too “complex” for him to replicate via biology given the current resources at his disposal, regardless of what he did. Now that this was confirmed, he could focus his efforts on more attainable goals.

“It’s a shame that it didn’t work, but it’s doubtful that flight would have aided in the siege of Fal’Ashar regardless,” Rizok said from the corner of the laboratory, where he was watching his pet Radiant Serpent tumble through the air while play-fighting with a flying kitten. “The Talonfolk haven’t traveled this far south in centuries, but most cities still have some magical defenses against aerial threats. Your other experiments seem to have been much more successful.”

Zareth had seen plenty of races of people who weren’t native to the region, including even the fungus-like people from the Hidden Cities of Mu and an aquatic Adventurer from Narakanai, but he’d never been able to meet one of the Talonfolk. They were the only humanoids capable of flight as far as he knew, and Zareth would absolutely love to examine one of them.

Sadly, they were extremely isolationist and generally stayed within the Talons of Qahtan mountain range.

“Maybe, but I’ve begun to notice a similar problem there as well,” Zareth said as he activated one of the new abilities he’d gained.

With a snap of his fingers, Zareth caused a small spark of flames to appear in his palm. After studying the Ether of a Qahtani Fire Salamander, Zareth had managed to derive a Sigil from it that he’d named the Minor Pyrokinesis Sigil and promptly imbued it into a chunk of biomass using Meldorath’s Heart.

Zareth had then transformed that piece of biomass into something appropriate for a human body and grafted it into his fingers. Much to his excitement, this resulted in him having the ability to generate and manipulate small flames directly from his fingertips!

This was something that couldn’t easily be replicated through pure biology without using strange and dangerous methods, such as creating sacs of flammable gas within his body. More than that, it proved to Zareth that there was an avenue to explore magic despite the many restrictions that prevented direct manipulation of the Etherveil from being a popular practice.

Zareth would simply need to rely on studying the Sigils derived from studying the abilities of magical creatures and incorporate them into his own body, rather than a spellbook like a generic mage. It wasn’t too different from what he’d already been used to doing, and it even seemed to synergize well with [Veterinary Knowledge] given how natural it felt for him to understand these creatures.

Unfortunately, there was no such thing as a perfect solution.

“No matter what I try, it seems like all living organisms have a kind of ‘Sigil Capacity’ which limits how much magic they can safely integrate,” said Zareth as he idly moved the flames through his fingers and thought back to his previously created augmentation templates.

He had needed to actually form a sort of magical organ within his wrists, an uncomfortably warm spherical chamber that somehow gathered Ether, in order to gain this ability. Trying to fit in too many led to… poor outcomes.

“Hmm. I suppose that makes sense,” Rizok muttered thoughtfully. “I’ve fought many magical creatures, but all of them seem to have very specialized abilities, though those belonging to [Beast Tamers] have always been an exception.”

“This phenomenon is known to the Dehkshetra temple,” Vidhatri confirmed, looking up briefly from the biological monstrosity that she was slowly creating. Apparently, she wanted to convince a few of the [Cultists] to specialize in flesh golems and thought that displaying their lethal potential was the best way to do so. “The monsters of Zumair are far more impressive than the pathetic creatures that wander your desert, but even the strongest among them remain specialized.”

“It explains why I had so much trouble granting the Mirage Stalker template additional augmentations given the complexity of its pseudo-invisibility,” Zareth muttered to himself. “I just need to figure out what exactly dictates this Sigil Capacity so that I can learn how to enhance it.”

The only thing he knew for certain was that his own body had an abnormally high Sigil Capacity. He guessed that this was due to [Ether Attunement], given the skill description said that it would “Infuse the body with Ether and enhance its ability to channel the Etherveil.”

Zareth also suspected that one of the stats offered by the System could potentially influence this capacity, perhaps Vitality or Spirit.

Given his discovery that Control directly influenced how finely he could influence the Ether, he felt that there was a good chance that the other stats might also have some sort of fundamental connection to the Etherveil. He’d already confirmed that using a skill created some manner of disturbance in the Etherveil, which vaguely reminded Zareth of Sigils, but it was… difficult to clearly sense what was happening for some reason.

There had to be some sort of mechanism that the System used to make skills, stats, and classes work, so this was an avenue of research that Zareth was very interested in.

Sadly, he didn’t exactly have a way to immediately test that hypothesis without going full mad scientist and experimenting on sapient test subjects. He would simply have to wait for his next level-up and look for any measurable difference in his body’s capacity to hold Sigils once his stats increased.

Luckily, he could feel that all of the research he’d been doing lately had brought him fairly close to leveling, which meant he wouldn’t have to wait long.

“I’ve no doubt you’ll manage to solve the matter eventually,” said Rizok, tone confident and eyes soft as he playfully swatted away the two animals attempting to chew on his tail. “What you’ve already accomplished is impressive enough.”

While Zareth had managed to create a new template that he was confident would help with the siege on Fal’Ashar, he had a feeling that wasn’t exactly what Rizok was referring to.

“I’m glad you and Glitterfang are enjoying the company of your new little friend,” said Zareth, chuckling at the sight of a heavily armored soldier playing with two cute animals.

“If all of these creatures are as friendly as Skywhisker, then I’m certain your cult is about to enjoy a very lucrative business,” said Rizok, eyes still locked onto the kitten as she clumsily tumbled through the air. “I expect I’ll be seeing these little guys all over Tal’Qamar soon enough.”

Zareth imagined flying cats fluttering through the rooftops of Tal’Qamar and couldn’t help but smile at the idea. He was glad that one of his [Cultists], the young ogre named Nog, had indicated an interest in animals. He would make for a good [Aesthetic Beastshaper] one day.

“I hope that you’re right. I’ve always found animals to be fascinating,” said Zareth, deciding there was no harm in sharing a bit about himself. “I even once considered becoming a type of specialized animal healer when I was younger.”

“Truly? I’ve never heard of such a thing,” said Rizok, sounding genuinely interested as he glanced at Zareth. “What sort of class would that have been? [Animal Healer]? [Beastmender]?”

“It’s called [Veterinarian],” said Zareth, unable to hide the wistfulness in his voice as he remembered his former passions. “It’s a relatively rare class as far as I know, and the closest guild for them is in the Eldamiri capital, which is why I gave up on it. They primarily work for wealthy people who need unique creatures kept in good health.”

Zareth could still remember how dejected he’d felt once he learned that fact after bribing a foreign [Merchant] for information. Perhaps he could have still returned to his old profession if he’d kept at it, but it wouldn’t have been easy.

“It’s a shame that you and many others are unable to follow the paths that truly call to them,” Rizok said with a melancholic tone. “I believe you would have been well-suited for such a role if your expertise in studying and creating these magical creatures is any indication. But there are few in this world who are offered the opportunity to pursue their dreams.”

“Ha! If that is the case, then I must be even more fortunate than I realized,” said Vidhatri, laughing cheerfully as four of her hands expertly molded a bloody pile of biomass in front of her into a new form. “Such people would be more comfortable if they submitted themselves to Cerebon and allowed him to guide their paths! Who wouldn’t be satisfied if they were allowed to live as I do?”

Rizok rolled his eyes, but Zareth didn’t miss the trace of fond amusement he saw in the lizardkin’s eyes. Vidhatri certainly had a… unique way of seeing the world, but she made for surprisingly good company for a zealot.

Zareth had expected her to be much more unreasonable when he first met the shivarath, but he supposed that there were perks to having Cerebon’s explicit approval.

Zareth tuned out his two companions as they began to bicker over how much the average person would enjoy spending their days elbow-deep in gore and returned to his work. High Command had called another meeting of the Hierophant Council later in the evening to deliver them all a new set of orders, and Zareth wanted to finish his experiments before then.

He had no idea what new burdens his cult was about to be saddled with, so Zareth felt it was best to assume his attention would be fully occupied in the near future.

Using his newfound knowledge of Sigils, Zareth had maximized the efficiency of his templates and added several new abilities to them. One of the most useful regarding the siege was his changes to the Plaguebringer, allowing that template to both control its noxious gases and produce them indefinitely.

He’d accomplished this through a careful examination of the Venomshade Vipers that he’d used to create the Plaguebringers in the first place. It’d been quite the pleasant surprise to discover that the serpent wasn’t a mundane animal and actually had minor magical properties from which he could derive a Sigil, which he’d named the Toxic Cloud Sigil. The line between normal animals and magical creatures found in this world was often more blurred than Zareth would like.

The new Plaguebringer wouldn’t outright win the siege on Fal’Ashar given that the city’s magical shields would easily prevent any form of gas or biological attacks from breaching the walls, but it’d still have a significant effect. After all, it wasn’t hard to imagine the effect on morale that would come from living in a city surrounded by a cloud of deadly gas that completely blocked out the sky and plunged the streets into perpetual darkness.

In addition to the Plaguebringer’s Toxic Cloud Sigil, Zareth had managed to derive a few other Sigils that mostly focused on attacking Fal’Ashar’s morale. Since the city’s defenses were so formidable, that seemed like the most feasible approach.

Zareth had also managed to add all of his new Sigils to his own body. Even though he wasn’t that fond of combat, Zareth sometimes regretted that he didn’t have an opportunity to make use of them aside from during his spars with Rizok.

Of course, he would never say something like that out loud. There was no need to tempt fate.

Several hours later, it was nearly time for Zareth’s meeting with the rest of the Hierophant’s Council when Vidhatri suddenly decided to approach him.

“Before you depart, I’ve been giving some thought to the issue of ‘Sigil Capacity’ based on your descriptions of the problem,” said Vidhatri, instantly drawing Zareth’s undivided attention. “I know little of the Etherveil, but I have something which I would like you to examine.”

After receiving a nod of understanding from Zareth, Vidhatri calmly opened a wound in her thigh and retrieved a familiar object. It was the same coin-shaped object which Vidhatri had referred to as a “Flesh Rune” and used to create a magical ward of privacy for the Rite of Flesh Liberation.

I can’t believe I completely forgot about that thing, Zareth silently chastised himself as he took the Flesh Rune from Vidhatri. I’m pretty sure she said that these were made by [Flesh Scribes]. I’d love to see one of them work…

It was immediately clear why the shivarath would associate the Flesh Rune with his current experiments, given it directly related to imbuing magical effects into biomass. A cursory scan of the object’s magical presence revealed that it had an effect on the Etherveil, especially when it was activated. It was somewhat similar to the vague impression he felt whenever someone used a skill, though significantly more clear.

Most importantly, Zareth could sense that the magic imbued in the Flesh Rune was far more complex than any Sigil he’d created with Meldorath’s Heart. It also had seemed to faintly emanate Cerebon’s Divine Essence, which he suspected could be potentially related to its abnormal Sigil Capacity.

“Fascinating. It almost makes me wish that I could stay here and continue my research,” Zareth said regretfully as he stored the Flesh Rune away. “But at least I have a new avenue to look into in the future.”

After spending a few minutes asking Vidhatri questions, Zareth made his way out of the laboratory with Rizok following closely behind him. High Command had extended Zareth’s leash a bit by no longer ordering Rizok to constantly follow him and report on all of his activities, but he still enjoyed having the soldier around.

Both because Rizok often noticed things that Zareth didn’t and also because there was always the remote chance of him being targeted by [Assassins].

Zareth wasn’t one to take his safety lightly.

The walk to the building allocated to the Hierophant Council was… interesting. He was dressed in the formal twilight-colored ceremonial garb crafted by Onara, and combined with his distinctive third eye, everyone Zareth passed recognized him instantly.

Zareth found himself being stopped frequently by people who had benefited from his cult’s expanded healing and body modification services. He’d expected it would be popular, but Zareth heavily underestimated just how much the people of Tal’Qamar would appreciate what his cult had to offer. Every single morning since the services started being offered, a crowd of eager people would gather outside of the spire hoping to be seen by one of Zareth’s [Cultists].

Demand was so high that his cult had to prioritize those with the highest need first, such as those with birth defects or minor injuries. Significant injuries were still directed to the Healer’s Guild because Zareth wasn’t ready to make an enemy of them for little benefit… yet.

That might change once he had more [Cultists] and they weren’t already completely swamped with their current workloads. However, the [Healers] contributed to a big enough industry that the backlash was beyond what Zareth could currently handle.

Regardless, Zareth and Vidhatri had taught the [Cultists] how to handle birth defects and had been almost exclusively focusing on these cases. Zareth vaguely remembered that birth defects appeared in approximately three percent of the population, so he could expect around three thousand patients given the number of people living in Tal’Qamar.

The reaction from these people and their families was overwhelmingly positive. It was understandable, but Zareth couldn’t help but feel shocked by how many times he was stopped by grateful people while walking through the streets. Every tear-filled expression of gratitude was the result of someone having the entire course of their lives changed.

It was a stark contrast to the ambivalence or open suspicion that his cult had been treated with in the days immediately following the Conclave’s exile from Tal’Qamar.

By the time Zareth finally reached his destination, he was nearly prepared to break into a run to escape all of the people who sought his attention. He didn’t think he’d ever feel comfortable with receiving so much praise.

Unlike the last time the Hierophant Council had been called to gather for a meeting like this, they were meeting in their own designated building rather than High Command headquarters for reasons unknown.

The structure itself was nothing all that special, having once been a modestly sized administrative building near the former palace. The Hierophant Council hardly ever had reason to gather here, so nobody had bothered furnishing it with anything more than the minimum necessities to ensure the organization’s reputation wasn’t harmed.

Zareth was greeted by several military guards stationed here by High Command as well as several administrators who managed the building and received messages for the Hierophant Council.

Not that he’d ever actually heard of that happening.

Once he entered the actual meeting room, Zareth found that the delays he’d faced meant the other members of the Hierophant Council had already arrived. Farida and Borak were both engaged in quiet conversation while Kinta had her eyes closed and appeared to be silently meditating.

Zareth half-expected Kassan to make some sort of sly remark like he did during their last meeting, but the naga chose not to say anything this time. Instead, he simply offered an annoying little smirk, seemingly satisfied to leave things at that.

Zareth was glad to return the favor by ignoring the naga as he took a seat as far from Kassan as possible, and Rizok went to stand quietly with the other bodyguards. He regretted that he’d allowed his emotions to get the better of him last time, as a public spat hardly benefited him.

It was always better to deal with enemies quietly when possible, rather than in the open.

“Ah, you have good timing, Apostle Zareth. The priestess and I were just discussing you,” Borak said with a friendly smile.

“Oh? I didn’t realize that I’d done something to draw your attention, Grand Shaman,” said Zareth as he raised a questioning eyebrow in Farida’s direction. “I hope it’s nothing… negative.”

He and Farida had been on relatively neutral terms ever since the Desharin had helped him find the temple of Meldorath, but that didn’t mean he trusted her.

“No, nothing of the sort,” Borak was quick to reassure, his eyes sincere even as Farida rolled her own. “I simply wished to learn more about you in light of your cult’s achievements. Your recent curing of the Rukmar has caused a bit of a… stir within my community.”

Zareth had never heard that word before, but context clues made it clear that “Rukmar” likely referred to ogres with birth deformities. He’d tended to enough ogres by now to have learned that their culture didn’t look well on those individuals.

“I see. Is that going to be an issue?” Zareth asked cautiously. He had no intention of stopping, but he also didn’t want to create a rift with the ogres if he could help it.

The ogres were less populous than the Desharin and generally kept to themselves, but making an enemy of the community filled with muscular, eight-foot-tall behemoths didn’t seem like the wisest decision.

“Unlikely. There are some among my people who are particularly resistant to change, but it is not as if your cult are the only ones capable of curing the Rukmar,” said Borak, causing Zareth to let out a sigh of relief. “It is merely the ease of access that you offer which has caused some discussion. Few among my people are wealthy enough to hire a sufficiently leveled [Healer] or purchase the elixirs necessary for such cures. So far as I’m concerned, we owe you a debt.”

Zareth could tell from the elderly ogre’s expression that he was sincere in his gratitude and very serious about repaying him. Out of all the communities in Tal’Qamar, the ogres took matters of honor and debt the most seriously.

“The Grand Shaman is correct, bo—Apostle Zareth,” said Farida, her tone somewhat reluctant as she at least attempted to speak to him respectfully. “Your cult has contributed well to the well-being of our people… so far. I hope to see this continue.”

Farida regained some of her irritable nature toward the end of her statement, but Zareth took it in stride. That was the closest thing to praise that he’d ever received from the bitter old priestess, and he knew not to expect any more warmth than that.

Zareth once again realized that he’d underestimated how far his cult had come in terms of integrating itself into Tal’Qamar and how much goodwill they’d earned.

Having his efforts acknowledged was… more gratifying than he had expected.

“You’re very welcome,” said Zareth, attempting to project calm even while subtly using his powers to keep blood from flushing his cheeks. “Do either of you know why we’ve been called here?”

Thankfully, Farida and Borak allowed him to change the subject.

“The specifics haven’t been disclosed to me, but I believe it’s safe to assume that it’s related to the war,” said Borak, a trace of concern lacing his voice. “General Nasrith’s recent victory is a welcome one, but this conflict is still in its early stages.”

“Hmph. I’ve no doubt the military intends to exploit us as much as they can get away with,” Farida said with a disdainful scoff. “So long as they keep their promises once this war is over, we’ll simply have to tolerate whatever troublesome tasks they have for us.”

Despite Farida’s ornery tone, Zareth could sense that both she and Borak were relatively optimistic about the war’s progress as he spent the next few minutes speaking with them. While the western front had effectively stalled at Fal’Ashar, Tal’Qamar had significantly expanded the territory that fell under its influence to the southwest.

Most of that territory was utterly devoid of anything worthwhile, of course, but there was a smattering of settlements and resources that had been captured. Even if none of them were actually large enough to be considered a city-state on par with Tal’Qamar, the very fact that they existed meant their land was capable of sustaining life.

Developing them wouldn’t be easy, but the Desharin and the ogres would gladly devote their resources and labor to make it happen if it meant controlling their own autonomous territory.

Farida and Borak both attempted to sound out Zareth regarding what stretch of land his cult had their eyes on, but he rebuffed their inquiries by saying it was too early in the war to make such decisions. In truth, the Tessik had already made clear what territory they wanted him to acquire in exchange for their support, but Zareth had no intention of sharing that information, especially within hearing range of Kassan.

Tal’Qamar still hadn’t conquered that territory yet anyways, so he might as well keep his cards close to his chest.

Eventually, their conversation was interrupted as Garrison-Commander Tholin finally arrived, assistants following behind the gray-bearded dwarf as usual. Everyone promptly straightened in their seats, and Kinta emerged from her meditation, preparing themselves for the meeting ahead. This was Zareth’s third time meeting with the gruff Garrison-Commander, so he wasn’t surprised when Tholin decided to skip the formalities and immediately get down to business.

“Good evening, members of the Hierophant Council,” Tholin addressed them with a stern, businesslike tone as he took a seat at the head of the table. “I’ve called you here to deliver new directives for how your organizations will aid Tal’Qamar’s ongoing war effort. These duties relate much more to your… religious aspects than your previous orders to assist in combat operations, so I felt it appropriate to discuss them in this setting. But first, I would like to detail how each of you has played critical roles in furthering this city’s prosperity so far.”

Zareth could tell from the expressions of his peers that he wasn’t the ,,only one curious about how these new directives related to their religions. Before they could ask further, the garrison commander began publicly listing each of their organization’s achievements.

Zareth assumed that this process served multiple purposes. It allowed High Command to explicitly acknowledge their contributions and make them feel valued while also stirring a sense of competition among the Hierophant’s Council.

After all, they were all competing for the same limited prize.

Zareth was already aware of most of the accomplishments that Tholin highlighted, either from the Tessik or from his occasional communications with House Vhelan. Although, a few of them did surprise him.

“High Command expresses its gratitude to the Order of the Serene Path for its assistance in weakening Tal’Qamar’s criminal element,” Tholin recited tonelessly, nodding toward Kinta in acknowledgment. “Their ability to offer class changes to any individuals sincerely seeking redemption has served as a valuable tool for social stability.”

Zareth glanced toward Kinta in surprise as the female lizardkin returned the garrison commander’s nod with a composed look. He hadn’t been paying as much attention to Kinta or the Order of the Serene Path compared to the rest of his colleagues. Kinta was about the same age as he was biologically and had no significant backing from any factions in Tal’Qamar, as far as he knew.

This meant that he’d subconsciously discounted the [Monk] and the Order of the Serene Path as a serious rival or ally.

All he knew about Kinta’s religion was that the Serene Path held the divine domains of Redemption and the Mind. If she could truly offer class changes without the excessive cost or hassle of the normal ritual, then that was a surprisingly significant capability.

It meant that her religion could potentially recruit and reform individuals from a variety of backgrounds. Zareth had no doubt that they would be more devout than the average convert as well.

Considering that many of the new converts to his cult were from the Sunrise Slums, Zareth made a mental note to keep a closer eye on the [Monk] as he turned his attention back to Tholin. Tal’Qamar had no shortage of criminals, which meant that her Order had a high potential for growth.

There were few other surprises in Tholin’s speech, other than the Circle of Ghisara sabotaging Anket’s ability to pay some group of mercenaries. Kassan frowned slightly at having his activities publicly announced but wasn’t in a position to stop the garrison commander.

When Tholin was finally finished with all of his announcements, one of his aides unrolled a large map of the Qahtani Desert, and he finally began to address why they were all here.

“As you all are no doubt aware, several populated settlements have been conquered by Tal’Qamar in recent months,” Tholin said as several markers were placed on the map to indicate the current locations of various military forces. “The most populous of these is Tal’Hadin, while the rest are generally small villages built around the occasional sources of water spread throughout the Qahtani Desert.”

Zareth was no geographer, but he suspected that the Qahtani Desert held more smaller villages than any comparably sized desert back on Earth. He’d read a lot of history books recently and learned that the Nephalan Dynasty had gone to great lengths to expand the arable land within its territory using [Mages] and [Artificers].

That didn’t surprise him all that much. If the Desharin were once able to create temporary oases, then it made perfect sense that an empire which once spanned the majority of the continent could accomplish something similar if they put their minds to it.

The Nephalan Dynasty’s collapse meant that there was nobody to continue funding these projects, and the vast majority of these artificial settlements had disappeared with them. That being said, there were still many more small spots in the Qahtani Desert which could support life than Zareth would have expected.

“With control over these settlements established comes the duty that they be properly administered. It is there that High Command has faced some… challenges,” Tholin admitted reluctantly. The dwarf glared at the map as if he were attempting to get rid of these “challenges” through sheer force of will. “We intend to deploy you and your organizations to these settlements.”

It took a moment for Zareth to process what Tholin meant. When he did, his eyes widened, and he couldn’t help but lean forward in anticipation.

“Are you implying that High Command intends to send us outside of Tal’Qamar, Garrison-Commander?” asked Zareth, feeling a confusing mixture of surprise, apprehension, and excitement.

“That’s correct,” Tholin confirmed, expression slightly annoyed at being interrupted. “The Conclave’s influence grows stronger the farther west you travel. The civilians living within these settlements are particularly loyal to the Conclave’s deities. This is a problem which we’d prefer the Hierophant’s Council to address, before we are forced to do so ourselves. The frontlines have been pushed far enough beyond these settlements, making them relatively secure.”

That made sense to Zareth once he considered it. In Tal’Qamar, the Conclave had several other factions that they needed to fight with for influence. The Great Houses were especially powerful given the relative size of Tal’Qamar, and the native religions of the Desharin and the ogres restricted the Conclave as well.

There had been many people in Tal’Qamar who were genuinely loyal to the Conclave’s gods, but likely far fewer and far less zealous compared to other city-states under their control. This was one of the reasons why there was relatively little domestic strife once the Conclave was exiled from the city.

Well… that and the obvious methods through which a military dictatorship treated dissidents.

High Command tended toward pragmatism over unnecessary cruelty, but they weren’t shy about dealing with problems decisively if they felt like it.

“What of our safety?” asked Farida. “Tal’Qamar has only recently been made secure from the Conclave. While I’m sure you’ll offer us protection, it will be impossible to fully prevent [Assassins] from approaching us once we leave these walls.”

Zareth nodded in agreement. While he was much more resilient now compared to when he’d first been attacked, he had no doubt the Conclave would attempt to kill him given the chance.

“You’re free to allow cowardice to dictate your actions if you wish, but I suspect you’ll regret it,” said Tholin, entirely unsympathetic. “High Command places a high importance on this matter. We wish to avoid depopulating these settlements, but that outcome will become unavoidable if they remain excessively loyal to enemy forces. We will not tolerate a security threat behind our frontlines. I suggest you see this as an opportunity to grow your followings and act accordingly.”

Zareth couldn’t help but wince. He’d long grown used to the casual cruelty of this world, but he really didn’t want to know how High Command intended to “depopulate” the settlements.

“I’m certain that we all have subordinates who we can send in our stead,” said Kassan, not seeming particularly threatened by the idea of facing [Assassins]. “I doubt the Conclave will go through the trouble of arranging the deaths of anyone aside from ourselves.”

That was true, but Zareth didn’t have anyone appropriate to send for a task like this. Not only would they need [Devotion Perception] to pick out those who were loyal to the Conclave, but they would also need to be able to defend themselves. Kassan was right that the Conclave was less likely to target less important subordinates, but there was no guarantee of that, and there were other potential threats.

Zareth wouldn’t be able to look himself in the mirror if Tamir was killed in some remote village because he decided to be a coward. Besides, the existence of his flesh golem meant that Zareth could maintain some sort of presence in Tal’Qamar even if he was away.

Moreover… he wanted to go.

In his twenty-three years of living in this world, Zareth had only left the city he’d been born in during his short-lived adventure to the temple of Meldorath. While that had been fairly exciting, there hadn’t been much to see beyond the temple itself. The only piece of civilization in that direction was a city named Qarasan, but it had been too out of the way to justify a detour.

Zareth had earned a decent salary as a veterinarian and loved using it to travel the world during his occasional vacations. He was endlessly grateful that he’d chosen to have those experiences while he was young, given that he’d died in his late thirties.

While his priorities had changed a lot since then and he was no longer as carefree, Zareth would still love the chance to see the world beyond Tal’Qamar. After all, what was the point of hoarding power if you never used it to do the things you enjoyed?

He’d been reincarnated in a magical world filled with fantastical sights, and he didn’t want to die never having seen more than the tiny corner he’d been born in. He wanted to one day see the Kingdom of Mount and Vale’s underground cities, the exotic fungal cities of Great Mu, and the legendary Hall of Heroes in Eldamir’s capital city.

Even if the settlements around Tal’Qamar were unlikely to be as impressive as any of those locations, Zareth was excited about the prospect of seeing more of this world.

The Cult of Cerebon was on a good path to becoming relatively well-established in Tal’Qamar; he had nearly finished creating his contributions to Fal’Ashar’s siege, and his personal augmentations were as powerful as ever. Zareth had never felt more confident in his ability to protect himself, and he now genuinely trusted Rizok to handle anything he couldn’t.

He’d miss having access to his laboratory, but this was his chance to spread his influence beyond the city walls while simultaneously expanding his horizons.

Zareth’s mind began to drift as Tholin began discussing logistics. If he was truly going to do this, then he had a lot of preparations to make, such as purchasing high-,-quality enchanted equipment, vetting his protective detail, and planning all of his activities beyond the city.

Zareth’s instincts told him that this was the start of something new for him, and he intended to do it right.

Chapter 6

“I really don’t see why High Command couldn’t give us a few horses,” Zareth grumbled as he glared at the hateful creature pulling their caravan’s supply wagon through the desert sands. “I understand that they’re not native and are bred purely for the cavalry divisions, but surely they could have spared us one or two!”

The hateful creature in question was a ghorak, which could be best described as a camel-like creature with two large horns. They were relatively handy beasts of burden and were commonly used all throughout the Qahtani Desert. Zareth was quite fond of most animals and didn’t even have any real problems with ghoraks in general, but he was extremely tempted to turn this one in particular into rations.

“I did tell you that they hold a grudge,” Rizok said with an amused smirk. “If you didn’t want the thing to occasionally spit at you, then you shouldn’t have tried to jump on top of it.”

“I thought we were supposed to use them as mounts! How was I supposed to know that the Desharin train them to only accept specific handlers?” Zareth protested as he warily eyed the ghorak, determined to avoid another wad of spit hitting him in the back of the head. “How can the damned thing even spit so far anyways? It doesn’t make sense.”

“Hmph. In Dehkshetra, any beast who betrayed its master in such a way would have already been culled,” said Vidhatri, eyes vigilantly scanning the surrounding sand dunes despite the contingent of soldiers escorting them through the desert. “I do enjoy trying new foods, and we do not have ghoraks on Zumair.”

Zareth nearly let out a sigh of relief when the ghorak ceased staring at him and turned its attention back to the path ahead. He doubted the creature actually understood what Vidhatri had said, but it likely understood the threat in her words.

Animals in this world could be surprisingly insightful at times.

“How much longer until we reach Tal’Hadin?” Zareth asked, trying not to sound like a complaining child as he positioned himself so that Rizok was in between him and the ghorak. “I’m happy to get out of the city, but I was hoping to see something more interesting than endless sand.”

Unlike his adventure to the temple of Meldorath, this trip didn’t even have the benefit of being interrupted by the occasional outburst of violence. The path from Tal’Qamar to Tal’Hadin was very well traveled by [Merchants] and relatively peaceful, especially now that High Command was using it to transport supplies to the western front.

“We should be able to spot the city’s outer walls in another hour or two,” Rizok said after a moment of consideration. “Though I wouldn’t get too comfortable if I were you, given that Tal’Hadin isn’t our final destination.”

“So long as I can take an actual bath, I’ll be satisfied,” said Zareth, already imagining himself soaking in a tub of warm water.

He’d been smart enough to purchase a magical rag from the Enchanter’s Guild that could clean him without ever getting dirty itself, but it was no substitute for the luxury of a full bath.

Zareth had made sure that he was the first to leave Tal’Qamar among the Hierophant Council because he wanted his pick of the settlement he’d be pacifying. High Command didn’t care who went where so long as the Conclave’s influence was successfully stymied throughout its newly conquered territory, and Zareth’s colleagues weren’t all that cooperative on the best of days.

Therefore, it was effectively first-come-first-served. He’d set out with Vidhatri and Rizok as protection, along with a dozen soldiers nominally placed under his command. He’d been worried at first about leaving his cult in the hands of someone as young as Tamir, but the risk was relatively low given that he could still keep an eye on things via his flesh golem.

It’d only taken Zareth a few days after his meeting with High Command to get all of his affairs in order. He was now on his way to Tal’Hadin, where he intended to stay for a few days before moving on to his next destination.

Zareth had already decided during the briefing by High Command that he wanted to focus his attention on Jabal-Alma, a small settlement near the territory the Tessik wished him to claim. Traveling there would allow him to become acquainted with the people who lived in the lands that’d eventually become his responsibility.

But before that, he’d like to gather more knowledge about them than the scarce details provided to him by High Command. Tal’Hadin should have more accurate information simply based on its proximity, and it just so happened that the Tessik had a Lore Guardian in the city.

Zareth expected the Lore Guardian to be a big help, especially in choosing a decent location for him to set up a new branch of his cult. Tal’Hadin had an almost entirely lizardkin population, so the Tessik had no trouble spreading their influence to the city.

The next hour of monotonous trudging through unending sands was entirely uneventful. Just as Zareth was about to risk sounding like a broken record to once again ask Rizok how much farther they had to go, he began to hear something incredibly strange.

“What is that… buzzing sound, and where is it coming from?” asked Zareth, glancing at the rest of the caravan and seeing that Vidhatri was the only one who seemed to share his concern.

“Did you not read about Tal’Hadin before we left?” asked Rizok, surprise flashing through his eyes before he broke into a smile. “I forget sometimes that so few people ever leave the city. Don’t worry. We’re not in any danger. You’ll see what I mean in a moment.”

Trusting Rizok’s judgment, Zareth tried to remain calm while the strange buzzing grew louder the closer they got to the city. Finally, the caravan crested over a dune, and Zareth was greeted with a sight that left him dumbstruck.

Rizok was right that he hadn’t spent much time researching Tal’Hadin, mostly because any captured city was destined to be claimed by one of the Great Houses after the war. His cult would naturally maintain a presence within the city to recruit followers, but Zareth didn’t see the sense in investing his attention on a place that would soon be under the control of another power.

He’d imagined Tal’Hadin would simply be a smaller and poorer version of Tal’Qamar, which was why he was so surprised to see what seemed to be a large cloud of insects surrounding the city.

[Eye of Cerebon] allowed him to realize that the insects were extremely varied and moved with purpose, as if they were being controlled. Colorful sand termites burrowed through small cacti farms south of the city, and swarms of iridescent beetles carried stone to a group of workers repairing a destroyed portion of the walls. Clusters of insects flew packages in and out of the gates, while fierce-looking dragonflies followed [Guards] as they patrolled the walls.

Zareth could tell when Rizok and a few of the soldiers began chuckling that his expression must have been quite the sight.

“Uh, I’m going to need an explanation for this,” Zareth said once he managed to pull himself together.

“Indeed. I will not step into a city of [Insect Tamers] without reassurance that they will not devour the flesh off my bones,” said Vidhatri, staring at the city with a cautious expression. “I’ve seen ravenous swarms reduce capable warriors to mere skeletons in less than a minute, and I would like to avoid joining them.”

“That’s not something you’ll need to worry about,” Rizok assured them as the caravan continued its journey toward the city. “Swarm Lord Kressha surrendered to High Command on the condition that the majority of their city’s combat-oriented insects be killed. It’s only their [Guards] who have a few small swarms assigned to them for defense purposes.”

Rizok continued to teach him about Tal’Hadin’s culture and history as their caravan approached the gates. Apparently, the city had been led by [Swarm Lords] for most of its history and used specially bred insects for a variety of different tasks. The most important of these was a massive swarm of ants that tunneled far and deep to find underground water sources inaccessible by most means. They would then store that water in little pouches and bring it back to Tal’Hadin.

The majority of the city’s water still came from their oasis and a high water-bearing species of cactus popular throughout the region, but the ants allowed their population to be much more comfortable than they would be otherwise.

As a result, [Insect Tamers] was one of the most popular classes in Tal’Hadin and influenced nearly every part of the day-to-day life of its residents.

Zareth found himself briefly taken aback by such a creative use of a class that he would have never associated with resource gathering. He was even more impressed once he drew close enough to Tal’Hadin that he could capture one of their ants and examine its biological structure.

High-level [Beast Tamers] and similar such classes could acquire skills that granted them the ability to modify creatures under their control, though in a much more limited capacity than himself. The modifications made to the ant in his hand showed an impressive understanding of insects that could have only been a result of generational research.

He’d known that the nations and cities were heavily influenced by the classes of those who ruled them, but Tal’Hadin epitomized that in a way that surprised him.

Zareth briefly imagined what Ruler class he might gain in the future and wondered if his own lands would one day similarly embody his decisions…

Their caravan was allowed into Tal’Hadin very quickly after they showed their credentials, animosity briefly flashing through the eyes of the lizardkin [Guard] once she realized that they were members of the military force occupying her city. Nevertheless, she did her duty without complaint before making arrangements for their ghorak to be brought to a stable and for the rest of the caravan to be led toward the city’s former place.

As a moderately important member of the government, Zareth was expected to meet with the [Swarm Lord] so that he could give his proper greetings. Tal’Hadin had surrendered fairly quickly after their walls fell, which meant that its leadership had largely been left in place and still held significant power. So long as the Swarm Lord didn’t make themselves a problem, High Command wouldn’t want to deal with the domestic strife that would come with replacing them.

Now that Zareth had seen just how intrinsic the insects were to Tal’Hadin’s way of life, he couldn’t help but wonder if the Swarm Lord even could be replaced in the first place.

The moment they stepped into Tal’Hadin proper, Zareth immediately began to take in his surroundings with open curiosity. This was the first city he’d seen in this world outside of Tal’Qamar, and his first impression was that it appeared far more interesting than he’d expected. While the buildings were notably smaller than he was used to and the city seemed less affluent when compared to Tal’Qamar, it held a certain… alien appeal.

Nearly every single structure was covered with insects moving in and out of specially made crevices while carrying out their designated tasks. The buildings themselves seemed to be constructed from a combination of sandstone and a strange waxy material that reminded him of the same secretions that certain insects used to build their nests. The streets were alive with the sounds of buzzing and fluttering as the city’s native lizardkin went about their business alongside their insect helpers.

All in all, Tal’Hadin gave him an impression of being a city in constant movement and being uniquely organic in both its construction and function.

Zareth quite liked it… though there were also several signs that Tal’Hadin was being significantly affected by the war. Most of the pedestrians were either elderly individuals or young children dressed in ragged clothes, hinting that the able-bodied population was otherwise occupied. Several buildings had been reduced to rubble, and many more were damaged by recent fighting.

Combined with the damaged walls, it was clear that Tal’Hadin hadn’t allowed themselves to be conquered without a fight.

It explained why the pedestrians were glaring at him with thinly veiled hostility and why the distaste he’d seen from the [Guard] wasn’t an outlier.

“I’m starting to get the feeling that we’re not welcome,” Zareth quietly said to his companions.

“Conquerors rarely are. So long as they know their place, there’s no need to pay them any heed,” said Vidhatri, her tone casual as she began assessing their surroundings. “It does seem as if the city’s order has been relatively well maintained.”

“This isn’t High Command’s first experience with occupying a city,” Rizok said as their group’s guards formed a protective formation around them and began leading them down the street. “Although such occupations were always temporary before we handed the conquered territory over to whoever hired our services. I suppose we’ll see how things develop here in the long term.”

As they began making their way to the Swarm Lord’s palace, Zareth quickly realized that High Command hadn’t overstated the degree to which the Conclave still held influence outside of Tal’Qamar. [Eye of Cerebon] allowed him to spot several people carrying discreet symbols of the Conclave’s gods and see many more alight with devotion.

There were a decent number of soldiers vigilantly patrolling the main avenues prepared to crack down on any unrest, but not as many as he had remembered seeing in Tal’Qamar after the coup. It was likely that this was all High Command could spare to maintain the occupation given the ongoing war. Most of Tal’Qamar’s soldiers were either besieging Fal’Ashar or fighting on the frontlines near Anket.

While Zareth understood the reasons, he found himself wishing that there were a few more soldiers the farther they traveled into Tal’Hadin. He began to feel as if he’d underestimated the level of discontent in the city, especially when their group passed through the bazaar and saw that there were hardly any [Merchants] selling their goods. The few [Merchants] that had set up stalls were focused on selling a variety of equipment and provisions for the soldiers that passed through the city.

He was intimately familiar with how people reacted to having their standard of living suddenly drop, and there was no greater sign of economic struggles than a trading city with a mostly empty bazaar.

Feeling curious, Zareth decided to approach the local [Guard] guiding them for more information. “What happened here? It’s nearly noon. Shouldn’t this place be bustling with activity around this time?”

The [Guard], a grizzled female lizardkin who’d introduced herself as Tazska, made an admirable attempt at hiding her animosity as she gave him a sidelong glance. It was far better than the pedestrians in the bazaar, who looked as if the only thing keeping them from attacking him was the heavily armed soldiers between him and them.

It was slightly annoying to be looked at in such a way, but Zareth wasn’t overly concerned. This was to be expected given the circumstances.

“I don’t know how things are up in Tal’Qamar, but we’ve only got two trade routes keepin’ this city from fallin’ apart,” Tazska gruffly replied. “The way to Anket has been cut off thanks to the war you folks started, and the route to Shihr has been closed down on account of some sort of magical disturbance. Doesn’t help that a lot of our able-bodied were volunteered to help with the war effort.”

Zareth winced as he absorbed the guard’s words. It was common sense that war came with severe costs to those who lived in its shadow, but actually seeing the impact with his own eyes made it so much more real and poignant. A part of him felt guilty about contributing even slightly to this state of affairs, even if he had no doubt High Command would have still pursued this course with or without him.

Even if the locals were unfriendly, he couldn’t help but somewhat pity their circumstances.

I’ll need to ensure that my cult does everything it can to help these people, Zareth thought to himself, attempting to assuage his conscience as he spotted a young lizardkin girl fearfully staring at him while squeezing an idol of Rayya. I suppose I understand now why these people dislike us so much. I would be angry too if some foreign power started a conflict that destroyed my livelihood and forced my loved ones to fight in their war.

Despite his sincere desire to help, Zareth wasn’t ignorant of the fact that being seen as someone here to alleviate their plight would be the best way for his cult to gain a foothold in Tal’Hadin.

Let it never be said that Zareth couldn’t pursue multiple objectives at the same time.

Zareth attempted to ignore the stares of the locals but began to have a bad feeling once their group stepped onto a street occupied primarily by workshops and craftsmen. The situation there seemed just as bad as the bazaar, but there were far more people, and his escorts struggled to maintain a proper formation amidst the bustling crowd.

When he turned his attention toward Rizok, he noticed that his friend was also tense and subtly trading hand signals with one of the soldiers.

“Is something wrong?” Zareth quietly asked after making his way to Rizok’s side.

“Possibly. Our [Scout] is reporting that something is activating his [Detect Threat],” Rizok said, his hands discreetly moving to his sword. “The threat level to us is relatively low, but that doesn’t mean much given the presence of myself and Vidhatri. It could be anything from a kid about to throw a rock to an [Assassin] vastly out of their depth.”

Zareth was simultaneously relieved to hear that they weren’t actually in any significant danger and concerned that someone was actually willing to attack them moments after they entered Tal’Hadin. Wary of a potentially escalating situation, Zareth decided to order the group to hasten their journey to the palace so they could avoid any further complications.

Just as he was about to give the command, he was interrupted when Rizok unsheathed his sword in a blur of speed and slashed it through the air. Vidhatri immediately morphed her arms into a protective flesh shield around the group while Rizok’s sword unleashed an arc of white energy, targeting a seemingly innocuous cluster of insects stealthily advancing toward them.

It was only due to [Eye of Cerebon] that Zareth was able to spot the alchemical flask that had been concealed within the swarm before Rizok’s attack shattered it and triggered a fiery explosion. The sudden burst of violence caused chaos to break out in the street as the crowd began screaming and fleeing. His protective guard, meanwhile, closed formation and ushered them into a defensive location while the others went searching for whoever had attacked them.

However, Zareth’s attention was completely consumed by Vidhatri grabbing the local [Guard] by the throat and dragging her toward them.

“What is this treason? Mere minutes after we’ve entered this city, and we are attacked under your watch?” said Vidhatri, her four eyes hard with murderous intent. “You are either utterly incompetent or treacherous. Tell me which so that I know how you are to be dealt with.”

“These kinds of attacks have been happenin’ ever since you folk took over,” Tazska croaked as she struggled in Vidhatri’s grasp. “We’ve been tryin’ to stop ’em, but it’s almost impossible to track the swarms back to whoever sent ’em. Not much we can do about it.”

Zareth absolutely didn’t want his subordinate killing someone in the street within full view of everyone, so he placed a hand on her shoulder and ordered her to release the [Guard]. Given the nature of the attack, he believed her when Tazska said that it was nearly impossible to investigate or prevent this kind of thing from happening.

He’d also seen enough of Tal’Hadin to know that there was sufficient discontent for there to be violent resistance against the people occupying their city.

“It’s all right, Vidhatri. This isn’t the first time that I’ve had someone attempt to kill me,” Zareth said, [Leadership] assisting him in portraying confidence and calm in a tense situation. “Let her down and help me heal anyone who was injured in the attack so that we can go meet the Swarm Lord as quickly as possible. We shouldn’t stay here for any longer than necessary.”

Vidhatri glared at the lizardkin for several more moments but eventually obeyed his orders.

He knew that he’d made the right decision when he saw a flash of surprise in Tazska’s eyes and the tension in the air eased significantly. Zareth spent the next few minutes healing the handful of pedestrians who had been burned by the alchemical bomb. He even used his new pyrokinetic organ to help put out a stall which had caught on fire and offered a few gold pieces to pay for the damages.

By the time he was finished, Zareth could tell that he’d made a decent impression on everyone involved in the attack. When one of them asked him who he was and why he was being so helpful, Zareth took the opportunity to describe his cult and to give them an edited version of the Grimoire of Cerebon. Unlike the original version, which contained a lot of… questionable content, this one was sanitized to better reflect his cult’s more peaceful perspective of Cerebon.

He’d paid one of the [Scribes] in his cult to make a good number of the books so that Zareth could spread them far and wide.

After his impromptu preachings, their group swiftly and vigilantly continued their journey to the Swarm Lord’s palace. Tal’Hadin’s [Guards] had been stirred up in response to the attack and were now patrolling the streets and evacuating the streets of anyone who didn’t need to be there. It was far from how Zareth had hoped his first time visiting a city other than Tal’Qamar would go…

Zareth was relieved when he caught sight of a large, ornate building that was completely covered with countless insects and allowed inside after a short security check. All of the soldiers within the actual palace were from Tal’Qamar and didn’t look at Zareth as if he were the source of all their problems.

However, he once again began to grow tense as he was led toward the Swarm Lord’s throne room. The insects within the palace all looked far more dangerous, with swarms of mutated wasps and cat-sized scorpions patrolling the halls in agitation.

That tension reached its peak when Zareth stepped into the throne room and got his first look at Swarm Lord Kressha, who appeared to have been arguing with a group of naga before his arrival.

The leader of Tal’Hadin was a sharp-eyed female lizardkin with dark scales who appeared to be a few years older than Zareth’s biological age. She sat atop an intimidating throne that melded into an artistically shaped scorpion carved from dark wood with metallic accents. The throne was held aloft by its eight legs while a wicked-looking stinger arched over the backrest and loomed directly above the Swarm Lord. The largest insects that Zareth had ever seen were arrayed along the edges of the throne room, ready to defend their master at the slightest hint of threat.

Around her were two naga and an ogre, the latter of which wore armor identifying themselves as a military officer of Tal’Qamar, while the former two were richly dressed and held themselves like aristocrats. Zareth wasn’t surprised when he spotted the symbols of House Vhelan and House Khysar on their attire, as he’d already known that the Great Houses were attempting to spread their influence to Tal’Hadin.

Although, it was a bit concerning that House Khysar was among those who seem to have gained the ear of the Swarm Lord.

“Greetings, Swarm Lord Kressha. It’s my honor to be welcomed into your city,” said Zareth, bowing politely as he approached the throne. “I’ve found it quite fascinating and look forward to seeing more of it in the near future.”

It was clear from her commanding presence and the deadly insects around the room that the Swarm Lord must have reached an amicable agreement with High Command. He needed to get on her good side if he wanted his cult to have any chance of succeeding in Tal’Hadin.

Swarm Lord Kressha studied him silently for several tense moments before she responded. “I’m relieved to hear that your first impressions of my city were not ruined by its… malcontents. There are many who would be far less sanguine about being violently attacked.”

“I understand that these are dangerous times, Swarm Lord. Tal’Qamar has faced its own share of violence due to the ongoing conflict,” Zareth said, attempting to be conciliatory and show that he didn’t intend to make a fuss.

For some reason, his response caused the representative from House Khysar to begin scowling, while the one from House Vhelan nodded at him in approval.

“If only all of my guests were so understanding,” said the Swarm Lord, her tone faintly sardonic as she turned toward the gray-haired naga from House Khysar. “Do you still insist on your proposal, Diplomat Nithar?”

“Apostle Zareth’s valor is certainly to be commended, but this audacious attack is just another sign that Tal’Hadin’s security desperately needs to be tightened,” said Nithar, his voice calm as he smoothed his expression. “As we are now members of the same nation, House Khysar is both capable and willing to provide this assistance in the pursuit of fostering a safer, more secure Tal’Hadin. All we require is your permission to do so.”

“You may be right, but I find Lady Vritra’s arguments that these matters be left to High Command quite compelling,” Swarm Lord Kressha stated, nodding toward the female naga on the other side of her throne. “An excessive response would only inflame tensions at the worst possible moment.”

“Indeed, we’ve worked hard to establish a working system to peacefully transition Tal’Hadin to its new reality,” said Lady Vritra, a relatively young naga with features frighteningly similar to Lady Marilith. “We cannot afford to take unnecessary risks while the war is still ongoing simply due to this unfortunate and convenient attack.”

“Are you implying something, Lady Vritra?” said Nithar, a trace of danger entering his voice as he glared at the other naga.

“Of course not, Diplomat. It’s not suspicious in the slightest that an arriving official was immediately attacked in such a haphazard manner,” Lady Vritra said evenly.

Zareth glanced at his companions and saw that he wasn’t the only one who suddenly felt out of place. The Swarm Lord and the two naga diplomats seemed to all but forget about him as they began arguing over the city’s security arrangements.

It was obvious to him that both Great Houses had alternative motivations in their proposals. House Khysar wanted to use this as an opportunity to increase their power in Tal’Hadin, while House Vhelan had more influence in the military and thus benefitted from High Command maintaining sole control over security matters.

Zareth continued to awkwardly listen for a while longer, unsure whether he was expected to participate in the impromptu argument or be a silent observer. He only decided this was something he should be involved in when he realized that there was a real chance the Swarm Lord would be convinced by House Khysar’s arguments, which was not in his interests.

However, the rapid-fire nature of the debate made it difficult for Zareth to interject.

“While I am sympathetic to your position, Lady Vritra, we both know that I cannot afford to ignore the growing threat of dissidents,” Swarm Lord Kressha said, her tone clearly reluctant as she turned her gaze to the officer from High Command, a stone-faced male ogre wearing heavy armor. “Not unless Commander Dak believes the terms of my surrender are up for renegotiation. General Nasrith was quite explicit when detailing the consequences if any threat to the war effort were to develop from Tal’Hadin.”

“Unfortunately, that will not be possible,” said Commander Dak, his deep voice carrying a tone of finality. “Tal’Hadin is expected to serve as an important logistical hub for the southwestern front of the remainder of the war. Any instability which threatens this is unacceptable.”

“There is no need to act hastily, Swarm Lord. It is for this exact reason why we’ve sent for our new religious leaders to assist us,” said Lady Vritra, her expression composed as she gestured toward Zareth. “The Hierophant Council has been hugely successful in appealing to the people of Tal’Qamar and ensuring that our city remains stable. I’ve no doubt that they will be able to achieve similar results here as well.”

“Not only does Tal’Hadin lack any domestic faiths outside of those belonging to the Conclave, but I sincerely doubt its citizens will be as receptive to conversion as our own,” Diplomat Nithar immediately responded before Zareth could get a word in. “Besides, the primary source of unrest is due to the closed trade routes and the resulting economic downturn. Unless these issues are resolved, a tightening of security is the only viable solution to maintain order.”

“Let us not make assumptions about the Hierophant Council’s effectiveness before they have had a chance to prove themselves or even voice their opinion on the matter,” Lady Vritra said before casting a meaningful glance toward Zareth.

Even without saying anything, it was immediately obvious that she wanted him to offer the Swarm Lord whatever reassurance necessary to convince her not to side with House Khysar. Before he could really regain his bearings after being suddenly thrust into the spotlight, Swarm Lord Kressha turned to him and addressed him directly.

“Well, Apostle Zareth. Do you believe that you could indeed help stabilize Tal’Hadin?”

Zareth suddenly felt utterly exasperated, not having expected himself to experience an assassination attempt or be drawn into political intrigue on the very first day that he entered Tal’Hadin. He’d hoped that he could just enjoy some new sights and experiences before eventually heading to the settlement within his future territory, but it seemed like things were a bit more complicated than that.

The land he’d set his sights on was an unsettled area east of Anket along the western edge of a mountain range known as the Emperor Range. This would place him along the trading route leading to Tal’Hadin and thus make it impossible for him to remain agnostic about this city’s future. Having an antagonistic faction like House Khysar in control of it would almost certainly come back to bite him in the future.

Not to mention Lady Vritra’s thinly veiled accusation that the attack on him had been orchestrated by House Khysar. He hadn’t been in actual danger, but he’d learned a long time ago that this sort of thing demanded a response.

The only problem was that the naga from House Khysar was right that he didn’t have an easy means to alleviate Tal’Hadin’s security issues. In the short time that he’d spent walking through its streets, he’d seen far more people emanating devotion to the Conclave and economic hardship than had ever existed in Tal’Qamar.

He could give as many public sermons as he wanted and offer people free food or healing, but Zareth didn’t have the same understanding of Tal’Hadin as he did Tal’Qamar. He doubted that he could easily replicate his cult’s success here in the short term, and doing so wasn’t even his priority in the first place!

Zareth was still far more interested in focusing on his future territory. Although, that thought did give him a vague idea about how he could accomplish both aims at the same time…

“Swarm Lord, may I ask for more information about the closure of the trade route to Shahir?” Zareth asked politely, a plan slowly forming in his mind. “If it were to reopen, then would it help solve some of Tal’Hadin’s problems?”

“It would, though I would have sent my own soldiers to handle the matter if it was so easily solved,” Swarm Lord Kressha said after a moment of consideration. “It was a few weeks before the Conclave killed Merchant Lord Raqasor when a dense, magical mirage suddenly appeared around Shabail’s Pass. There are no other routes to bypass the Emperor’s Range, and anyone who attempts to enter is never heard from again. We have only been able to reassign a few [Mages] from the war effort to investigate, none of whom have been able to resolve the issue.”

Zareth took a moment to weigh the costs and benefits of offering to handle this so-called magical mirage. On one hand, it was located relatively close to his final destination and thus would be a convenient way to handle several issues at once. On the other hand, he didn’t really know anything about what was causing the mirage and how difficult it would be to fix.

He doubted that the source would be as simple as a nest of System Spawn, or someone would have handled it already. Chances were high that he would have to hire Adventurers, invest in specialists, or request outside assistance if he wanted to have any chance of success.

Zareth glanced toward Lady Vritra in the hopes that he could rely on House Vhelan’s support and was relieved to see her giving him a subtle nod of encouragement. The naga from House Khysar, meanwhile, was looking at him with a glare that could cut stone, which honestly made it much easier for him to make his decision.

Anything that won over his allies and pissed off his enemies was probably a good idea as far as Zareth was concerned.

“In that case, I would like to offer my assistance in solving this issue, Swarm Lord,” Zareth said decisively, hoping he was making the right decision. “Tal’Hadin isn’t the only city which needs to be freed of the Conclave’s influence. I’d intended to travel further south to Jabal-Alma and believe that I can investigate Shabail’s Pass while I’m in the area. I have several high-level individuals willing to join me and know something about researching and solving obscure issues.”

Zareth’s proposal immediately sparked another round of arguments. Diplomat Nithar argued that there was no reason to believe Zareth’s intervention would be successful, while Vritra tried to convince the Swarm Lord that there was no harm in allowing him to try. The debate went back and forth for a while, but it was clear that Swarm Lord Kressha didn’t actually want to allow House Khysar any more influence in Tal’Hadin than necessary. Commander Dak seemed content to maintain a neutral stance, observing the exchange with an unreadable expression.

“Apostle Zareth will be given the opportunity to reopen Shabail’s Pass,” the Swarm Lord declared with a sense of finality. “Should he fail, then I will give greater consideration to House Khysar’s offer to assist in tightening the security of Tal’Hadin.”

Nithar’s expression tightened, but he bowed his head in reluctant acceptance of the Swarm Lord’s decision. Lady Vritra, meanwhile, gave Zareth a subtle, approving smile.

“Now, we’ve argued over this matter for long enough,” said the Swarm Lord as she rose from her throne. “Apostle Zareth and his personnel have yet to be shown to their quarters and allowed to recover from their long journey before being engulfed by our politics. I suggest we end the discussion here so that I can offer my guests the hospitality that they are due. We may reconvene later.”

Zareth let out a breath of relief as a group of servants arrived to lead them to their accommodations. He’d barely spent more than an hour in Tal’Hadin, and he was already feeling exhausted.

The soldiers under Zareth’s command were escorted outside of the palace, where they would rest in one of the nearby barracks. Vidhatri was brought to the female side of the guest quarters while Zareth and Rizok were both brought to one of the more spacious rooms designed to house visiting dignitaries. It was beautifully furnished, with comfortable-looking beds and a balcony overlooking the bustling city.

Most importantly, there was a large bathing area attached to the room, complete with a sizable tub and all the soaps he could want!

Zareth barely stopped himself from immediately plunging into the bath but knew that he needed to first discuss the day’s event and their next steps with Rizok. After his friend activated his [Aura of Silence] and confirmed that they were not under any kind of surveillance, Zareth finally allowed himself to relax.

“Well, that wasn’t how I was hoping my first day in Tal’Hadin would go,” Zareth said with a wry smile as he sank into a luxurious armchair placed near the balcony, enjoying the cool breeze that wafted in. “What do you think the chances are that House Khysar actually arranged that fun little welcome for us?”

“Nearly guaranteed. There’s little chance that a group of unorganized malcontents would be informed enough to know we would be arriving precisely at this time,” Rizok replied, his expression grim. “I would be wary if I were you. There’s a good chance that they’ll arrange for us to be attacked once we leave the city. There are many ways to do such things without anyone being able to prove their involvement.”

Zareth had seen many times by now just how creative the people of this world could be in utilizing their abilities and knew that Rizok was right to be cautious.

“This sort of action seems like an escalation of what the Circle of Ghisara was doing before. There’s a chance that they may not go that far,” Zareth said hopefully, though even he didn’t sound convinced with his own words.

“House Khysar and the Circle of Ghisara may be allies, but it would be foolish to assume that their objectives are exactly aligned,” Rizok said firmly, his tail whipping back and forth with agitation. “Respectfully, the Great Houses are all vastly more influential and more ruthless than you or your colleagues. This matter surrounds the control of an important trade city, and House Khysar will not hesitate to be rid of you if they consider you to be a threat. I’d advise you to take this matter seriously.”

Zareth could tell that his friend was sincerely worried about his safety and wanted him to do everything he could to protect himself.

“Shit,” Zareth cursed before rubbing his eyes tiredly. “I suppose this means that we’re going to make a lot of preparations so that I don’t end up dead, huh? It’s a good thing that I was smart enough to visit the Enchanter’s Guild and buy so much equipment before I left Tal’Qamar.”

“Indeed. Your foresight is nearly as honed as your ability to accumulate enemies with so little effort,” Rizok said dryly, though a small smirk betrayed his amusement.

Zareth and Rizok spent the next few minutes discussing the day’s events and slowly relaxing. It was nice to finally be somewhere relatively safe with temperature-modulating wards, and their conversation eventually moved on to much less serious matters. Just as Zareth was about to excuse himself to finally go take that bath he’d been dreaming about for the past week, his plans were put on hold when Rizok informed him that a servant was approaching their door with food.

Zareth wasn’t all that excited about trying out the cuisine of a city run by [Insect Tamers], but he figured that he could just change his palate by shifting into a lizardkin if it became necessary. He had no problem eating bugs so long as they actually tasted good.

“Greetings, Honored Guests,” said a young lizardkin girl dressed in servants attire as she carted in several dishes. Lifting the cover over one, Zareth was greeted with an array of colorful insects just as he expected. “The Swarm Lord herself directed her personal [Chef] to make these, and she has expressed her hope that you’ll enjoy them.”

Before Zareth expressed his gratitude, he was momentarily struck dumb when he lifted the cover from another dish and spotted something unexpected. It was a sealed scroll carrying the emblem of the Tessik.

“Thank you. Inform your superiors that we’re thankful for their consideration,” said Rizok, nodding toward the lizardkin girl and gesturing to the door. “You should leave. It’ll be dangerous if you stay here any longer than is expected.”

The servant nodded and immediately followed his orders, closing the door behind her.

“I thought we were supposed to meet with the local Lore Guardian for more information about Jabal-Alma,” said Zareth, feeling mildly confused as he made his way over to the nearby table and unsealed the scroll. “Is there a reason that they decided to send a scroll instead?”

“They’d only do something like this if the risk of being caught meeting in person was too high,” said Rizok after a moment of consideration. “Given the state of the city and House Khysar’s attention on us, that seems like the most likely explanation.”

That made sense to Zareth, and he resigned himself to finish reading through the scroll before he was finally able to enjoy his bath. He was far too curious about his future territory and the only settlement within it for him to do anything else.

Zareth had already known the relative location of the territory that the Tessik wanted him to claim, but they’d been somewhat tight-lipped about the exact specifics regarding why they wanted it. It was a bit annoying, but to be expected given that secrecy was what kept their organization alive for its entire existence.

He’d assumed that there were some important cultural artifacts or something similar in that area and learned that his assumption was correct after reading the scroll. More specifically, he learned that the Tessik has discovered several mentions in their records of a Nephalan Empire settlement somewhere near the coastline.

Such ruins existed all across the Qahtani Desert and had already been thoroughly looted over the centuries. The world’s understanding regarding magic and the System had generally increased since the times of the Nephalan Empire, so discovering their ruins was generally not as groundbreaking as one might expect.

That being said, there were still many things that could be learned from studying them, and there would be plenty of [Scholars] from all across the world willing to pay their weight in gold for the chance to do so. These particular ruins had yet to be found, so there may still be some interesting new artifact or scroll in these ruins when compared to the rest.

Once Zareth finished reading the section of the scroll about his future territory, he turned his attention to the portion detailing Jabal-Alma. These details were much more scarce, only informing him that the settlement was centered around a cenote close to the mountains that had been artificially enlarged by the Nephalan Empire. They were fairly isolationist and only occasionally left Jabal-Alma to send their goods up north.

There were rumors that the people there used unusual magic and artifacts, which immediately had Zareth wondering if they’d come into contact with the missing Nephalan ruins. However, the Tessik had also considered this and launched an investigation, which concluded that Jabal-Alma had merely discovered its own classes, as sometimes happened with isolated communities.

“If they’re using unknown classes, then they might know something about the strange mirage blocking Shabail’s Pass,” Rizok said as he read over Zareth’s shoulder. “It seems unlikely that the ancient ruins, unusual magical phenomenon, and the reclusive community, which all happen to be in the same area, are completely unrelated.”

Zareth had honestly been thinking the same thing. It didn’t take a genius to connect all of these things together, and he only became more certain when he caught sight of the Tessik’s replication of a symbol commonly worn by the people of Jabal-Alma.

It was a simple pair of wings folded over each other. Such a small settlement even having such an insignia was strange enough on its own, but there was something else about it which bothered him.

“Is there something wrong?” Rizok asked once he noticed Zareth staring at the symbol intently.

“I’m not sure. I feel like I’ve seen this before, but I don’t know where,” Zareth murmured, his brows furrowing as he tried to recall. “I doubt I’ve seen it from any of the research into records provided by the Tessik, or someone else would have already pointed it out, but I’ve done a lot of reading about history recently, so that doesn’t narrow it down too much.”

“I see. Well, that’s not something that I can help you with,” Rizok said with a shrug after studying the symbol for a few moments. “The only insignia I know that contains two wings is House Kavasa’s, and theirs is a bit different from this one.”

Rizok’s words caused Zareth to suddenly recall a detail he’d noticed during his first time reading the tome of Meldorath and its accounts of the System War. When he first saw the symbol of the God of Freedom, who had fought against a coalition of deities that included the Conclave, he had noticed that it was unusually similar to the insignia of House Kavasa.

Both depicted a pair of unfurled wings, with the only difference being the colors of their backdrops.

The only record of the God of Freedom that he’d come across was in the tome of Meldorath, so it seemed too obscure for two unrelated groups to use as their insignia. He was only even considering a connection between the two because the actual design of the wings was relatively distinct and near-identical in all three instances.

House Kavasa specialized in magic and was hugely wealthy, so it would make sense for them to have learned some obscure history. However, it made little sense for a tiny little settlement in the middle of nowhere to have done the same.

But… are these things really connected? Zareth wondered as his mind raced with everything he’d learned about the System War. My instincts tell me that they are, but I have little to support that kind of leap of log⁠—

Atavistic Apostle has reached Level 26! Skill Point gained!

What?

Zareth was momentarily stunned as he received the most unexpected System notification of his life. It made complete sense that [Atavistic Apostle], a class that focused on learning ancient mysteries, would level while he was doing research on that exact topic. He’d also been fairly close to a level up for a while… but he’d only been speculating and hadn’t reached an actual conclusion.

Such… uncanny timing all but confirmed that his personal theory was on the right track, even if he didn’t have enough information to connect the dots.

Zareth suddenly felt Cerebon’s amused attention briefly on him before his god seemed to turn his attention elsewhere.

Why did I think it was a good idea to live a life that constantly draws the attention of higher powers? Zareth thought to himself as he felt a sudden burst of exasperation.

“Zareth, is there something wrong?” Rizok asked, his eyes filled with concern. “You suddenly look as if one of your teenage [Cultists] used their flesh-shaping abilities to do something ridiculous again.”

“Nothing that can’t wait until later,” Zareth said as he rose from his seat, deciding that he’d dealt with enough nonsense for one day. “If anyone tries to bother us, tell them that I’m conducting an experiment on how long a person can stay submerged in a bath before turning into a prune and that I can’t be interrupted.”

Rizok’s baffled expression as Zareth calmly closed the door behind him almost made up for his lackluster first day in Tal’Hadin.

Almost.

Chapter 7

“Through Cerebon’s boundless wisdom, we learn that life is a process of endless metamorphosis. Much like the caterpillar forms a chrysalis only to emerge as a butterfly, we too must shed our former selves to achieve the glorious potential that exists within each of us. Those who willingly enter the folds of our congregation will have taken the first steps on this perpetual journey and guaranteed themselves a future more profound than they would have ever seen without Cerebon’s guidance!”

Zareth briefly paused the sermon he’d been giving for the past fifteen minutes and looked up from the makeshift altar in order to gauge the reactions of his audience.

It took all of his effort to keep his smile steady after doing so.

His experiences in Tal’Hadin over the past few weeks had proven that the locals were just as resistant to proselytization as he’d expected. Without the experiences and connections that Zareth had made over a lifetime of living in Tal’Qamar or someone like Gurza to funnel people to his cult, it had been nearly impossible to convince anyone at all to give him time of day.

He’d already chosen a loyal and competent lizardkin member of his cult from Tal’Qamar willing to run the branch in Tal’Hadin and bought out a suitable building in the city for the cult headquarters, but Zareth needed to find a few people willing to convert first.

Those first few followers were the most difficult and important, as they would give him the legitimacy he would need to establish a functional branch of his cult in Tal’Hadin. His plan to find people who were receptive to Cerebon was relatively simple. He’d spent the past few days healing and helping people throughout Tal’Hadin before spending a decent amount to organize a sermon in an open courtyard, accompanied by free food and drink. It was a tactic that had worked wonders in Tal’Qamar, and he was hopeful it would yield similar results here.

Unfortunately, a quick scan of the crowd revealed that the vast majority of people were busy eating and hardly paying any attention to him at all. There was only a handful that seemed slightly interested in listening to his sermon, their expressions showing a mix of curiosity and cautious skepticism.

There’s no need to be discouraged. You already knew that this wouldn’t be easy, Zareth thought to himself as he turned his attention back to the sermon. So long as I lure in a handful of followers, I’ll have accomplished my objectives.

Zareth decided that it would be best to finish up soon as he’d spotted Vidhatri glaring at the apathetic crowd like she wanted to go on a murderous rampage. It’d already been hard enough to convince the zealot that she shouldn’t be involved in the proselytization efforts, and he didn’t want to see what would happen if she lost her patience.

“It is no secret that we live in uncertain times. From the Western Divide to Qamar’s Gorge, it feels as if the entirety of the Qahtani Desert risks being dragged under the tide of war. There is not a soul in this world who can truly predict how this conflict will progress in the years to come, but there is one factor that is essential to surviving and thriving in these tumultuous times. Community.”

Zareth could feel a few more people turning their attention toward him, intrigued now that he was talking about matters that directly affected them.

“The Cult of Cerebon is more than just a group dedicated to the worship of our god. It is a sanctuary. It is a place where all are welcomed and embraced in their journey toward enlightenment. It is a place where people can gather and aid one another in the face of a world that seems increasingly uncertain and divided. Whether it be free healing, support for struggling families, or a variety of other community services, we help our own.”

Predictably, he saw several people perk up at the mention of material benefits. Zareth had long since learned that there were few things that interested people more than immediate, practical help in their daily lives.

“For those of you who find this appealing and wish to join our fold, I welcome you. For those who are uncertain, I urge you to reach out, ask questions, and see for yourself the benefits our community has to offer as the Cult of Cerebon works to become a part of Tal’Hadin. Thank you.”

Zareth stepped down from the stage to a… less than enthusiastic applause as everyone returned to their free food. He did his best not to feel disheartened and instead focused on the few who seemed like they’d been genuinely interested in his words.

There weren’t many, but this was the best that he could do given that it was his last day in Tal’Hadin.

Zareth weaved through the crowd of lizardkin enjoying a wide array of insect delicacies as he made his way to Vidhatri and Rizok, who were both standing off to the side where they could watch the proceedings. Zareth was immediately greeted by the sound of Vidhatri’s angry ranting the moment he stepped through the boundary of Rizok’s [Aura of Silence].

“How dare these vermin ignore the wisdom they’ve been so graciously offered! Cerebon’s guidance is wasted on these fools,” Vidhatri said, her anger so venomous that the surrounding lizardkin gave their group a wide berth. “Were it up to me, I would repay such disrespect with swift retribution.”

“Calm down, Vidhatri. This was to be expected,” Zareth said firmly as he approached, hoping to prevent the shivarath from scaring any more prospective followers. “I can sense that more than half of the crowd is already devoted to other gods, and nearly all of them see us as foreign conquerors. It’s no surprise that we’ve made little progress given the circumstances.”

“Zareth is right. As much as I love seeing your passion, you should save it for more appropriate moments,” Rizok added with a light, teasing tone as he gently placed a hand on her shoulder. “Besides, you seem very willing to accept my lack of interest in any gods. Why is this any different?”

Zareth held back a chuckle at Vidhatri’s expression, a flustered mixture of embarrassment and surprise.

“Well, your achievements prove that you’ve done well for yourself despite lacking Cerebon’s guidance,” Vidhatri said once she regained her composure, a faint smile playing on her lips as her anger began to dissipate. “I’ve always had an appreciation for strength and self-reliance. It’s difficult to begrudge such an… impressive man who has managed to carve his own path, even if you happen to be a heathen.”

Zareth wanted to cover his eyes as Rizok’s tail began to thump happily against the ground, feeling as if he were watching something that he shouldn’t.

“All right, enough of that. I’m happy that the two of you are getting along, but there’s really no need for you two to look at each other as if you want to start rolling in the sands right here,” Zareth said with a mixture of exasperation and amusement. “Save some of that for later, preferably after I’ve removed my ears.”

“If you’re jealous, I’m sure we could find someone for you to ‘get along’ with,” Rizok said boldly with clear amusement. “There are plenty of people in Tal’Hadin who find your lizardkin form quite appealing. Besides, wasn’t it you who said that today would be our ‘vacation day’? Given how hard you’re always working, there’s no better time for you to expand your horizons and… mingle with the locals.”

Zareth knew from Vidhatri’s open laughter that his expression must have been just as flustered as hers had been a moment ago.

There had been several moments during his time in Tal’Hadin when Zareth had shifted into a lizardkin, mostly so that he could experience a variety of local customs and understand the culture better. The reactions from many of the locals had been very positive.

Unlike the lizardkin of Tal’Qamar, who had adopted the naga preference for extremely smoothened and lustrous scales, the lizardkin of Tal’Hadin widely preferred to carve intricate and distinctive patterns into their scales. Mimicking this had been simple for someone with Zareth’s abilities, and he’d spent several hours designing the scales of his lizardkin form with the assistance of [Aesthetic Intuition].

He’d been a bit more successful than expected.

“Maybe another time,” said Zareth, attempting to hide his embarrassment as he remembered all of the enthusiastic comments he’d received. “As you said, today is our vacation day! There aren’t many times when I’ve finished everything that I need to do and didn’t have my laboratory to distract me. It’d be a shame to waste my last day in Tal’Hadin with… mingling.”

Ever since Zareth had started his cult, he’d been constantly moving from one thing to the next. Whether it be researching, responding to assassination attempts, or finding new ways to grow his cult, Zareth had been utterly consumed by his work.

He’d already done everything he could in Tal’Hadin. In the first few days after his meeting with the Swarm Lord, he’d spoken with the representative from House Vhelan and had a very predictable conversation. The main points were that House Khysar was not to be trusted, she wanted his help in spreading House Vhelan’s influence to the city, and she was willing to offer some support.

That support was crucial, as he was very concerned about the safety of the people who would run the branch in Tal’Hadin. The Pathfinders were currently escorting them from Tal’Qamar, but House Vhelan was far more fit to offer long-term protection compared to a group of Adventurers.

Zareth had then spent most of his time ensuring his cult’s branch in Tal’Hadin would be successful and gathering the supplies and information he needed for his trip to Jabal-Alma. He had also spent a bit of time looking over the new skills offered by the System.

Manipulate Ether – Grants the user the ability to more finely control and shape Ether. +3 Control.

Ether Resistance – Increases the user’s ability to withstand the effects of channeling Ether without suffering negative effects. +2 Vitality. +1 Spirit.

Echoes of the Etherveil – Allows users to vaguely sense past imprints on the Etherveil.

None of them were overly impressive from Zareth’s perspective, which made sense given that he hadn’t passed any major threshold with his most recent level. [Manipulate Ether] seemed like an analog to [Manipulate Divine Essence] and would slightly increase his fine control, and [Ether Resistance] would likely just increase his body’s Sigil Capacity, allowing for more magical organs.

[Echoes of the Etherveil] had the most impressive name out of the three, but being able to sense past Sigils would do little other than give him ideas about what used to be possible. After all, he already knew that Pre-System Sigils were no longer usable.

None of them seemed worth picking immediately, so Zareth decided to defer the use of his Skill Point, since he may have reason to use it for something else in the near future. [Whispers of Lost Tongues] may be useful if he found the Nephalan ruins, and [Organic Renascence] seemed promising as well.

But with that decided, Zareth had nothing urgent requiring his attention, and he had every intention of enjoying himself! He wasn’t sure that a single day was long enough to be considered a proper vacation, but he wouldn’t let that stop him.

Rizok and Vidhatri were both just as much of a workaholic as him, so it was up to Zareth to show them that not every day needed to be filled with scheming and toil.

“I still find it difficult to understand this ‘vacation’ nonsense that you’ve mentioned,” said Vidhatri, her brows furrowing with confusion. “Why would I ever willingly waste time with frivolities when I could be furthering the interests of my god?”

“Sometimes, it’s important to take a step back and appreciate the world around us,” Zareth patiently explained as he gestured for the two of them to follow him away from the courtyard. “Not everything is about work. Besides, how else are we supposed to continuously change as Cerebon demands if we never experience anything new?”

That argument seemed to be enough to convince Vidhatri, her expression growing thoughtful as the three of them navigated through crowds of lizardkin and swarms of insects. The animosity that they’d experienced when they first arrived in Tal’Hadin had yet to disappear, but it was significantly diminished after all the healing and charity work he’d done over the past few days.

Zareth found it nice to only have half the people who spotted him begin half-heartedly glaring.

“And what exactly are we going to be doing on this so-called vacation day of ours?” Vidhatri asked with clear skepticism.

Zareth’s eyes lit up, and he felt a surge of excitement bubble within him. “It wasn’t easy, but I convinced Swarm Lord Kressha to allow us the chance to visit Tal’Hadin’s primary hive!”

There was a moment of silence as Zareth waited with pride for his companions to praise the exciting day he’d arranged for them. When that praise didn’t come, Zareth glanced back and saw Vidhatri and Rizok both looking at him as if he were a particularly strange creature that they’d never seen before.

“So… we’re going to go look at some bugs? Is that truly your idea of relaxation?” Rizok asked, his tone one of disbelief. “Most of the soldiers I’ve fought alongside relax by drinking alcohol at a tavern or visiting a brothel, yet you wish to survey the local insects?”

“Ah, I see. I had misunderstood what you meant when you described this ‘vacation’ concept,” Vidhatri said, eyes lighting up with sudden enlightenment. “You wish to examine the insects designed by Tal’Hadin for the purpose of studying their anatomies. How clever, and very much worth our time. Perhaps we can steal a few of their designs for our cult with sufficient subterfuge. Would it be possible to steal some of their war beasts?”

Zareth’s excitement was immediately overshadowed by embarrassment, having forgotten that not everyone shared his enthusiastic interest in animals.

It was true that he’d been interested in the unique biological ideas and potential Sigils that he could see during his trip to the Swarm Lord’s hive… but Rizok was right that he actually just wanted to look at some pretty bugs. Still, there were some other things at their destination that could potentially interest his companions.

“The [Insect Tamers] of Tal’Hadin consider their hives to be some of their most valuable assets,” said Zareth, attempting to justify his decision. “The nobles of this city often hold large social gatherings in their hives so that they can show off their wealth. The Swarm Lord’s hive is guaranteed to have all types of extravagances, from delicious food and expensive art pieces to the most exotic insects in Tal’Hadin. They even promised to have someone tell us about the city’s history while showing us around!”

Even if some people might find his enthusiasm strange, Zareth couldn’t help but feel his anticipation build as he spoke about the hive. The chance to eat free foods, see exotic animals, and spend his day relaxing while doing nothing of importance; this was likely the closest he’d get to visiting a theme park in this world.

“Well, I’m glad that you’re looking forward to this,” said Rizok, his skepticism giving way to indulgent amusement. “I suppose that it’ll be interesting to hear about Tal’Hadin’s history from its natives.”

Given his involvement with the Tessik, it was natural that Rizok would be interested in the cultural attitudes of foreign lizardkin. Zareth was quite curious himself to learn how the lizardkin of Tal’Hadin differed from those in Tal’Qamar.

“Hmph. I’m not certain I see the benefit of this, but I will respect your judgment,” Vidhatri finally conceded.

The trip to the Swarm Lord’s hive was relatively uneventful, and it wasn’t long before the three of them were standing before a massive, buzzing structure shaped like a colossal dome. Several heavily armored guards were posted at the entrance while riding giant beetles with spiky carapaces and antennae that twitched at every sound. The entire area was also covered in a thick cloud of intimidating hornets, clearly ready to defend the hive and tear away the flesh of any potential threat.

It was quite an impressive sight, and Zareth was glad that he hadn’t arrived with any bad intentions.

However, the hive’s grand exterior was immediately forgotten when one of the Swarm Lord’s excited attendants ushered them inside, and Zareth got his first look at the hive’s inner workings.

The interior of the hive was a marvel of engineering, a labyrinth of interconnected chambers that was each designed with unnatural precision and supported a cornucopia of exotic insects. The walls of the hive were made from a substance resembling polished amber that glowed warmly and cast a golden hue throughout intricate passageways. The hive was large enough to support several distinct floors, each of which was heavily trafficked as lizardkin workers tended to the various needs of their insect charges.

It was a genuinely breathtaking sight, and Zareth felt somewhat like a kid in a candy shop as their guide began leading them through the hive’s complex architecture.

For as long as he’d remembered, Zareth had always been utterly fascinated by animals. He had enjoyed learning pretty much everything about them, such as their behaviors, their unique adaptations, and the roles they played in their ecosystems. While most of his first life as a veterinarian had involved treating sick pets rather than studying exotic creatures, Zareth had often enjoyed spending his time watching nature documentaries or occasionally visiting the zoo.

His dream had been to work at a wildlife reserve or a rehabilitation center… but Zareth had never had the opportunity to do so before the car he’d been driving was struck by an eighteen-wheeler.

Zareth had spent much of his first few years in this world bemoaning his fate and angsting over the unfairness of being suddenly torn away from his life and family, but he’d long since learned to look at the bright side of things. As he was shown one fascinating species after another, he couldn’t help but be grateful that he’d been given the opportunity to witness the magical creatures of this world. Several of them even seemed like they had useful Sigils, and Zareth decided that he would negotiate with the Swarm Lord for a few specimens once he returned to Tal’Hadin.

Vidhatri and Rizok weren’t quite as enthusiastic as he was, but they both seemed content to flirt with each other while eating a variety of insect delicacies offered by the attendants. Their relationship had progressed in a surprisingly wholesome direction recently, and Zareth couldn’t help but smile as he saw Rizok coyly accept a honeyed beetle that was being imperiously shoved in his direction.

When they weren’t teasing one another, the two of them occasionally ribbed him for gesturing wildly at each and every captivating creature they encountered. Their light-hearted banter was a pleasant change of pace compared to the usual intensity that engrossed their lives, and Zareth’s mood improved with every playful laugh or shared jibe.

That feeling reached its zenith when they were brought to a heavily guarded chamber dedicated to one of the hive’s most spectacular inhabitants, a group of luminous, iridescent beetles. Each of them was strangely beautiful and exuded an otherworldly glow as they flitted about their habitat, but neither of those qualities was what immediately captured Zareth’s attention.

Rather, it was the peculiar effect that they had on the surrounding Etherveil.

“What are these, Hive Keeper Sarik?” Zareth asked their guide, an elderly lizardkin man with dull scales and a kind smile.

“Ah, you truly have a good sense for quality, Apostle Zareth. You would’ve made for a fine [Hive Keeper],” Sarik complimented as he gestured toward the beetles. “It is tradition for every Swarm Lord who manages to sit upon the Scorpion Throne to make an attempt at recreating the legendary Magebreaker Beetles of Swarm Lord Vossaj. These specimens were created by Swarm Lord Kressha and are the closest that Tal’Hadin has come to reproducing our most celebrated leader’s signature beetles since the Century of Conquest reached its conclusion.”

The Century of Conquest was how most people referred to the series of conflicts following the Nephalan Empire’s collapse.

It was a time period that was aptly named as the Great Houses and the Conclave had worked together in an attempt to conquer the Qahtani Desert. Of course, things didn’t work out entirely in their favor given that the Great Houses ended up having their influence mostly relegated to Tal’Qamar. The Conclave had only been able to spread farther because most native religious groups were heavily and ruthlessly targeted during the Century of Conquest, allowing them to fill the void in the war’s aftermath.

The Great Houses had made some efforts to purchase land and spread their influence over the years, but what limited progress they’d made had been seized by the Conclave following High Command’s coup.

The Century of Conquest was one of the bloodiest conflicts in the continent’s recorded history, so Swarm Lord Vossaj must have been extraordinarily powerful to not only survive this period but also be remembered in such high regard.

Hive Keeper Sarik immediately began nodding in agreement once Zareth said as much.

“Oh, indeed. Swarm Lord Vossaj was once the leader of Clan Hadin and fought closely alongside the leader of Clan Qamar,” the elderly lizardkin said excitedly as he began to delve into a passionate recounting of history. “Their legends are extremely popular among our people and are often told to our hatchlings…”

Zareth listened as Sarik continued, weaving a complex story about the various clans of lizardkin that valiantly fought against foreign invaders during a tumultuous era. He talked about the brave Clan Hadin fighting off foreign magic with their Magebreaker Beetles, Clan Nasir’s prodigious alchemy, and the all-powerful Clan Qamar, who were blessed with great power by the mythical Anzu.

It was a riveting tale of heroism when it came from Sarik, but Zareth knew from reading the Tessik’s records that things hadn’t turned out well in reality.

Clan Qamar had been one of the strongest lizardkin powers of the time, which naturally meant that they had the most enemies of any of the clans. In the end, they’d been wiped out, and Tal’Qamar was conquered as everything that made them unique was erased from the world. Remnants of Clan Hadin remained in their distinct culture and some of the most knowledgeable [Insect Tamers] in the world, yet hardly any information remained of Clan Qamar’s legacy.

Tal’Hadin was one of the few cities in the Qahtani Desert with the majority of their population composed of lizardkin and had only remained independent due to the relatively high costs and few benefits of taking it. The rest weren’t so lucky, which was why the Tessik existed.

Zareth glanced at Rizok and saw that his friend’s mood was growing increasingly somber, so he decided to put an end to Sarik’s impromptu history lesson before his vacation day was ruined.

“Thanks for your insights, Hive Keeper Sarik,” Zareth interjected gently. “It’s important to remember our histories, but I think it would be better if we focused on the marvels of the Swarm Lord’s hives.”

“Oh, of course. Please follow me. Our next display is one of our most enchanting,” Sarik responded as he began to lead them again through the hive.

Zareth fell back and made his way to Rizok’s side as the elderly lizardkin chattered away.

“Is everything all right?” Zareth asked under his breath as he shared a concerned glance with Vidhatri, who was uncharacteristically quiet.

“Yes, I’m fine. Merely wondering how much of what the Hive Keeper said could be considered accurate,” Rizok said evenly after a few moments. “My father sometimes told me stories of the past and often mentioned the Anzu. I wonder if those tales were referencing Clan Qamar, or if my people will ever again reach the same heights they once achieved.”

Zareth had learned a lot about Rizok ever since his friend had revealed the Tessik to him. Matters of lizardkin history were dear to his heart because he associated such things with his father. There had also been moments during their time in Tal’Hadin when Rizok expressed concern that the city would gradually lose its unique heritage after being conquered as his people had in Tal’Qamar.

It wasn’t really a struggle that Zareth could fully understand, but he didn’t doubt that Rizok genuinely cared deeply about it.

Zareth wanted to comfort his friend but found himself not quite knowing what to say. The silence between them grew for several moments before Vidhatri finally broke it.

“I know little about these lands or why these matters seem to weigh heavily on you,” Vidhatri began, her voice softer than he’d ever heard from her. “I understand that I have not yet earned the trust required for you to share the burdens in your heart. However, I know the sting of loss and understand how it can drive you. So long as you harness that zeal and continue being the… formidable heathen that I’ve come to know, I have no doubt that you can achieve whatever ambition that you hold in your heart.”

That wasn’t quite the motivational speech that Zareth would have given, but it seemed to help at least a little because much of the tension seemed to leave Rizok’s body.

“Vidhatri’s right. The future’s uncertain, but that’s why we’ll forge it with our own hands,” Zareth said, placing a comforting hand on his friend’s shoulders.

Rizok chuckled to himself and looked at him with an expression of disbelief. “How comforting, to be called a ‘formidable heathen’ in one moment and then be given a line that I’d expect to hear from the [Hero] of a story told to children. I’m truly fortunate to have such eloquent companions.”

“Hmph. There’s no need to be insulting,” Zareth said with faux outrage, relieved that the mood had lightened. “I’ll have you know, I read that from a very well-written book meant for adults. I think I did it justice.”

His joke was met with a snort of amusement from Rizok and a small smile of approval from Vidhatri. Zareth was glad that the atmosphere had shifted and did his best to ensure that their final day in Tal’Hadin wasn’t wasted on more depressing subjects.

Hive Keeper Sarik was right that the next group of insects was the best, as it was a large nest of ants that had actually been designed to ferment nectar into mead and store it in their engorged abdomens! Not only that, but they’d been meticulously bred to be delicious to lizardkin palates. They were like tiny little walking treats that could get you drunk, and Zareth didn’t hesitate to shift to his lizardkin form so that he could enjoy them.

Vidhatri followed suit, though she didn’t bother shifting anything before dumping six handfuls of the ants into her mouth. Rizok refrained, and it wasn’t long before he was exasperatingly dealing with two tipsy shapeshifters. Both of them were fully capable of removing the alcohol from their systems whenever they pleased, but where would be the fun in that? Zareth repeatedly attempted to convince Rizok that he should try some as well, but his friend continued to refuse on account of the fact that “someone should stay sober to keep you two idiots in check.”

That didn’t sound like a good argument to Zareth’s increasingly poor judgment, and he often tried to sneak the alcohol ants into the snacks that Rizok was munching on. It was the perfect revenge for that time Rizok tricked him into first eating beetles while meeting with the Lore Guardian!

Unfortunately… his lack of coordination made that more difficult than he’d have liked.

It was around the time that Vidhatri decided to “prove her worth” by wrestling a half-dozen horse-sized scorpions and nearly convinced Zareth to join in that they were very politely escorted out of the hive. Thankfully, Hive Keeper Sarik was kind enough to give them a few bags of mead ants, so they were able to take their fun to the rest of Tal’Hadin!

The following few hours passed in a blur from Zareth’s perspective. He was fairly certain that the three of them had another touching bonding moment, but he couldn’t quite recall the details through the haze of mead ant–induced euphoria.

All he could remember was using his amazing skills to finally sneak a few of the ants into Rizok’s snacks, only for his friend to smugly reveal that his high Vitality stat meant that he needed magical alcohol to get drunk!

Zareth was so mad at being tricked that he ended up… doing something. He’s not quite sure what it was, but he was certain that he managed to get Rizok back for his traitorous trickery.

In the end, the last thing that Zareth remembered doing during his final night in Tal’Hadin was deciding to pick a fight with that damned ghorak that wouldn’t stop spitting at him and falling asleep in the stables.

Zareth worried for a moment about allowing himself to be so vulnerable in a city filled with potential hostiles but ultimately didn’t think it was a big deal. He was… surprised to discover that he trusted his companions to ensure his safety more than he’d trusted anyone for longer than he could remember.

Zareth’s life had been far from easy ever since he started his cult, but he couldn’t say that he regretted doing so…

If there was one thing that Kassan hated in this world, it was people incapable of appreciating their fortunes.

Such a mentality was unfortunately quite common among his people, which was why he was often forced to endure listening to fools blinded by their own privilege. Just this morning, he’d had to spend his valuable time listening to the remnants of the Vhysara family complain to him about their inconsequential problems.

As if they weren’t fortunate to still have their heads after the family leaders were caught collaborating with the Conclave.

As if they hadn’t always sneered at him for being born into a relatively poor family and claimed that he was blessed to have married into theirs.

As if this hadn’t been the outcome that Kassan had foreseen and desired in the first place.

Despite all of that, Kassan had always considered himself to be magnanimous and fully intended to guide the Vhysara family to new heights. He had a duty to do so now that its leadership had been imprisoned for treason, allowing him and his lovely wife to seize control over the family’s affairs. Listening to and placating a few spoiled little idiots was worth the trouble if it meant that he could steer the family’s considerable wealth and influence toward his own ambitions.

Kassan truly should remember to thank his most amusing colleague and House Vhelan for going after the Vhysara family with such zeal. The family had been even more ravaged than his visions had implied, which made everything so much easier.

Unfortunately, the members of the Great Houses were oftentimes just as foolish as the Vhysara family, but many times more dangerous. It wasn’t enough to offer a sympathetic smile and a few paltry appeasements with them. As he listened in to a meeting between the Great Houses where they argued over the future of the Qahtani Desert as if it had already been decided, Kassan felt as if their greed was enough to eclipse even his own.

And given what Kassan knew about himself, that was an impressive feat indeed.

“…given these factors and many others that have been mentioned previously, including Fal’Ashar’s tendency toward training capable [Mages] and [Enchanters], House Kavasa petitions its esteemed peers to sign an agreement that we shall be allotted sole mastery of the city upon its acquisition. Not only does this accord stand to benefit us all the most, but House Kavasa pledges to offer the previously mentioned payments as compensation for their support.”

Archmage Agnazir, leader of House Kavasa and likely the single most deadly naga in Tal’Qamar, nodded politely to his audience as he finished speaking and slithered back to his seat. For someone who could cast spells capable of killing hundreds of people at a time, the elderly [Archmage] always made a point of being composed and diplomatic.

Not that anyone would dare to disrespect someone of his caliber. While Agnazir might wear relatively modest robes and carry the appearance of an unassuming young naga in the prime of his life, everyone knew that all of this hid an old monster who was not to be trifled with.

Everyone in the chamber immediately broke out into whispers and hushed conversation as they discussed House Kavasa’s proposal. Privacy wards had been erected around the designated areas for each of the Great Houses, ensuring that anything not meant for Kassan’s ears sounded like unintelligible gibberish.

House Kavasa had offered some fairly valuable artifacts in return for dominion over Fal’Ashar, which meant that the matter couldn’t be dismissed out of hand. The leaders of the Great Houses were all offered counsel on the costs and benefits by the myriad of high-level [Advisors] who they’d brought to this meeting.

While Kassan was theoretically counsel to the leader of House Khysar, he knew better than to offer his advice unsolicited and thus kept his mouth shut while discussion raged around them. Matriarch Sylthana tended to prefer making her own judgments and generally only used his oracular abilities to foresee the most likely outcome of her decisions. She’d been offering Kassan more respect recently after he had become the de facto leader of one of House Khysar’s subordinate families, but Matriarch Sylthana didn’t trust anyone more than necessary.

A wise decision on her part.

“While House Kavasa’s offer is generous, and Fal’Ashar would doubtlessly flourish under its guidance, allowing one House to take control over one of the most valuable cities that we stand to gain in this war is unacceptable,” said Lord Valthor, leader of House Zarqet. “Especially given that we’ve been prevented from gaining any influence in Tal’Hadin. I would hope that I need not remind my peers about the importance of maintaining a proper balance of power?”

Kassan nearly snorted at the blatant reference to House Seradis and how much they’d dominated the rest of the Great Houses before Merchant Lord Raqasor was assassinated and their influence neutered. As a result, the rest of the Great Houses had adopted a policy of ensuring that no single house among them would be allowed to accumulate too much power.

Naturally, this only meant that they had to be a tad more subtle than they otherwise would be.

“You do not, but Tal’Hadin is hardly valuable enough to allow whoever controls it to become a significant threat,” said Lady Marilith, the shrewd and experienced leader of House Vhelan. It was unsurprising that she supported the proposal of Archmage Agnazir, as the two oldest leaders among the Great Houses cooperated more often than not.

Kassan prided himself on understanding the motivations of the major actors in Tal’Qamar, but Lady Marilith was more difficult than most.

“Given House Vhelan’s influence over General Nasrith and the military in general, it seems inappropriate that you’re even allowed to fight over any cities in the first place,” Matriarch Sylthana immediately countered, not-quite glaring at Lady Marilith from across the chamber. “One might think that you intend to supplant House Seradis’s previous position and deny us all our due rights.”

Kassan held back a sigh at his superior’s antagonistic response. He didn’t know the source of Sylthana’s grudge against the leader of House Vhelan, and he had definitely used all of his resources to find out, but it often caused the normally cunning woman to make impulsive decisions.

“As I’ve already said, General Nasrith is his own person and generally acts independently of House Vhelan,” Lady Marilith said evenly, her expression one of calculated dismissiveness that Kassan knew was meant to utterly infuriate his superior. “I understand that House Khysar might find it difficult to grasp that not every young naga we sponsor is a dog that can be brought to heel, but my words are the truth regardless.”

“As if anyone would believe that nonsense,” Matriarch Sylthana said through gritted teeth. “House Vhelan controls one of the most powerful assets in Tal’Qamar, yet still insists on treating its peers as if we are ignorant children incapable of perceiving the world around us. Does your arrogance know no bounds?”

Kassan could see several nods of agreement throughout the chamber at Matriarch Sylthana’s words. There were very few people who believed Lady Marilith’s claims of General Nasrith’s relative independence, and thus they viewed House Vhelan as the most threatening of the Great Houses.

Kassan was likely one of the few people in the chamber who knew for a fact that Lady Marilith was telling the truth. While the future was far from determined and his visions generally needed to be regarded as simple possibilities, Kassan had many means to gather and verify information. All of those sources agreed that General Nasrith held ambitions far beyond anything that the Great Houses would tolerate if they were to know.

It made Kassan want to laugh whenever he saw how secure the Great Houses were in their own inevitable resurgence, completely ignorant of the threats around them.

Kassan continued to listen quietly as the meeting between the most influential naga in Tal’Qamar devolved into an opportunity to trade thinly veiled accusations and insults. Archmage Agnazir’s proposal was eventually voted on and declined by both House Khysar and House Zarqet, as Fal’Ashar was too tempting a prize for either of them to give up without a fight.

House Seradis had naturally not been invited to the meeting, for obvious reasons.

The discussion from there moved on to the state of the war and other important matters that were taking place across Valandor. The siege of Fal’Ashar had been making slightly better progress recently. The so-called Plaguebringer soldiers being offered by the Cult of Cerebon had surrounded the city in a deadly fog that plunged Fal’Ashar into perpetual darkness, and the Way of Gendal had begun raising the spirits of anyone who died within the city.

Fal’Ashar’s walls were still keeping General Nasrith’s soldiers from entering, but there were clear signs that the morale of the city’s defenders was collapsing.

After all, who would want to live in a sunless city where the spirits of your deceased loved ones could suddenly become your enemies?

Most [Strategists] were predicting a high likelihood that Enchanter Lord Ghalid would either be overthrown by the local nobles or attempt a breakthrough of the sieging forces in a desperate bid to escape within the next few months. Nobody predicted a surrender as Fal’Ashar was too heavily controlled by the Conclave for anything but a bitter fight to the end.

The southwest front was a bit less optimistic, as Anket had managed to reach an agreement with the Desert Falcons Company and sent the mercenaries to harass High Command’s supply lines. Kassan had another scheme in the works to address that little issue, but it would take some time to reach fruition.

There was little else that needed to be discussed about matters outside of the Qahtani Desert. Eldamir was still far too busy with internal turmoil to be concerned with Tal’Qamar’s war against the Conclave, and Great Mu was as isolationist as always. There’d been a pick-up in coastal attacks by the underwater kingdom of Narakanai, but Tal’Qamar was still far from seizing coastal territory, so that hardly mattered.

Overall, the bi-monthly meeting between the Great Houses ended with relatively little progress as no deals were agreed upon, and every house continued to safeguard their own interests rather than work toward a common goal. It was a predictable end, but Kassan didn’t allow himself to relax as he followed Matriarch Sylthana through a portal back to Khysar Manor.

The very moment that they were away from prying eyes and ears, Matriarch Sylthana’s relatively composed demeanor twisted into one of barely controlled anger. The matriarch didn’t hold back a furious hiss that sent every [Servant] they passed along the way to the manor’s private chambers scuttling away as quickly as decorum would allow.

Once they were securely ensconced in the matriarch’s grandly furnished chambers, Sylthana immediately began letting out her pent-up frustration.

“That self-righteous old snake! She conveniently sends her pet human to help her seize control over Tal’Hadin and the southern trade routes, yet she still has the audacity to pretend that she has no control over her servants while claiming that I am the one who is hungry for power? Agnazir and she are both the worst kind of hypocrites!”

Kassan continued to maintain his silence, allowing the matriarch to vent her complaints uninterrupted. He knew that there was little that could get through to her while she was in this state. It was nearly five minutes later when Sylthana finally finished and called for a [Servant] to bring her a glass of wine, which appeared in her hands immediately via some manner of skill.

It took a few more moments before the middle-aged matriarch finally gathered her composure, eyes growing sharp with cunning as she turned an intense gaze to Kassan. “Tell me, what are the chances of success if I contract Jelt’s Assassins Guild to do away with that pest of a human serving Marilith?”

Kassan already had a good idea of how that would play out, but he knew that Sylthana was asking for something a bit more definitive. Bracing himself for the minor headache that he was about to endure, Kassan activated the skill that the matriarch often consulted before making decisions.

[Diviner’s Gaze].

Immediately, Kassan was bombarded by a whirlwind of images, each representing a different potential future. The images themselves were fleeting, fragmented, and numerous, but Kassan was experienced enough to quickly sift through those that were least likely and discard them before studying the most probable future that aligned with Matriarch Sylthana’s query.

His visions were often unreliable, especially when directed at people like Apostle Zareth, who attracted the attention of entities who could not be magically scryed, such as deities, but this particular scenario was less enigmatic than most.

The Viscounty of Jelt possessed one of the deadliest Assassins Guild on Valandor and was far beyond the means of someone as low-level as the human to survive.

“There is a high probability that Apostle Zareth would be successfully killed, but not without severe consequences,” said Kassan, his voice carrying an otherworldly echo as images of blood-filled futures flashed through his mind. “House Vhelan would know. Unseen powers would retaliate. The Conclave would benefit beyond our expectations.”

None of that was a surprise to either Kassan or the matriarch. The Circle of Ghisara frequently used its abilities to assess the effectiveness of potential actions against every important figure in Tal’Qamar and shared their findings with their sponsor, House Khysar. Their information network was the greatest in the city, and they’d long since known that directly attacking Zareth or the Cult of Cerebon would cause more problems than it would solve.

Sylthana obviously didn’t like that, but Kassan was quite grateful that the human was so inconvenient to kill. As much power as House Khysar may hold over him, Ghisara was the ultimate source of his power and thus the one to whom he owed true loyalty, and his goddess wanted the human alive.

He didn’t know all of the details of why that was the case, but it didn’t really matter to Kassan so long as he got what he wanted.

Kassan expected Sylthana to turn her focus to other means of attacking House Vhelan, but a dangerous glint appeared in the naga woman’s eyes that told him that he was mistaken.

“Ever since we rid ourselves of Raqasor and the Conclave, Marilith has been plotting something,” said Sylthana, her voice low and dangerous as she tapped her fingers against her glass of wine. “Never again will I allow that woman to plot against my house. I have a plan that may allow us to gain control over the Swarm Lord, but I need that human dealt with. If he cannot be killed, then give him the means to delay him from clearing the route to Shihr and keep him occupied as long as possible.”

Kassan strongly disagreed with Sylthana’s decision. Even if they sent people with strict orders not to harm the human, he knew just how uncertain the future could be. If Zareth was severely injured or worse by the matriarch’s scheme, then that would negatively impact not only her, but more importantly, that would harm his own interests as well.

Still, he could tell from the murderous look in Sylthana’s eyes that there was no changing her mind. Moreover, there were times, much like right now, that Kassan could feel… something different and powerful emanating from the matriarch whenever she was making these kinds of important decisions. Experience had taught him that opposing her would only bring him suffering, so he saw no reason to play the martyr in an effort to stop her poor choices.

Kassan held in a sigh as he resigned himself to a long night of prophetic scrying and strategic planning to ensure that Apostle Zareth was suitably distracted and hopefully didn’t die. That little human always had a way of causing him unnecessary trouble without even meaning to do so.

Kassan looked forward to the day when Gishara no longer needed Zareth to dig up the Conclave’s secrets…

Chapter 8

“Congratulations, Zareth. We finally arrived within the planned borders of your future territory. How does it feel?”

Zareth swept his gaze across the surrounding featureless sand dunes, no different from the ones he’d seen since leaving Tal’Hadin, before looking back at Rizok’s shit-eating grin.

“It feels wonderful. I’m so very excited,” Zareth replied, his voice dripping with sarcasm as he lounged in the wagon. A disk-shaped, Sunstone-powered artifact in the center of the wagon created a ward that kept its interior relatively comfortable despite the desert sun’s searing heat. “There’s just something so fascinating about a barren wasteland filled with rabid sand elementals.”

Their journey from Tal’Hadin had been fairly uneventful and monotonous up until now. Zareth had been anticipating some sort of attack from House Khysar ever since he left the city, but the only interesting part of their trip was that the Living Sands grew more aggressive the farther south they traveled.

Although, perhaps that lack of anything exciting should have been expected given that High Command was sending consistent patrols through the route traveling south from Tal’Hadin. It was an essential route to the frontlines being held by the Tal’Qamari Southern Legion, which prevented Anket from marching their forces up a relatively clear path all the way to Tal’Hadin.

“Oh, come now! Surely, a future ruler should be more excited about seeing his domain,” Rizok said with a teasing chuckle as he leaned against the polished wooden frame of the wagon.

Rizok had been relatively relaxed since leaving Tal’Hadin despite the threat of attack on their caravan.

Zareth had a feeling that the soldier felt more comfortable out here in the open desert, his hand resting nonchalantly on his sword as he occasionally scanned the horizon, than within the confines of a city. It would make sense, given that Rizok had spent far more of his life traveling and fighting wars than staying in a single city.

The contingent of soldiers escorting the caravan all seemed to behave the same way, so Zareth’s impression of Rizok was likely correct.

“I am confused. Why would you choose such a land if you perceive no value in it?” Vidhatri asked while walking alongside the ghoraks pulling their caravan and surveyed the arid landscape with a puzzled expression.

Ever since they had unfortunately lost one of the beasts to an adult Dune Drake, Vidhatri, Rizok, and the soldiers had started taking turns closely guarding the ghoraks. Even if they were strong enough to travel the Qahtani Desert by foot, losing the caravan’s beasts of burden would severely cripple their expedition and add several weeks to their journey.

Zareth really didn’t want to deal with that, even if it meant protecting the horrible little spit monster from being eaten by random creatures.

“Rizok is just teasing me,” said Zareth, glaring half-heartedly at his friend. “I… may have said a few things that I shouldn’t have about my future prospects while I was drunk on beetles.”

“He went on a long and very dramatic monologue about his glorious destiny to become the great lord of a rich trade city more prosperous than Tal’Qamar,” said Rizok, his eyes mischievous as he shared a glance with Vidhatri. “Zareth spoke extensively about how he would bring in [Cooks] from every continent in the world to compete for his attention and make me the head of his security forces. I just wanted to show gratitude to my glorious leader and remind him of his grand aspirations.”

Zareth blushed a little and groaned when he heard his drunken rambling repeated back to him. So, what if he dreamt of living in luxury? Anyone would enjoy those kinds of things after growing up without them.

Of course, founding and ruling such a wealthy city where none existed was… a bit too ambitious for most people to take seriously, but what was the harm in dreaming big?

Vidhatri turned her gaze to a Qahtani Glintworm in the distance that suddenly emerged from beneath the sands and swallowed an unsuspecting Behemoth Twin-Tailed Scorpion. There was only a short fight before the giant worm disappeared again beneath the dunes, leaving behind a pristine sand dune that showed no evidence of the violence which had just occurred.

“Somehow, I feel that your ambitions may be difficult to realize,” said Vidhatri, her voice as dry as the desert itself as she turned back to look at him. “These lands are not as hostile as the jungles of Zumair, but this place does not seem particularly hospitable.”

“My actual territory will expand from Shabail’s Pass all the way to the coastline,” Zareth quickly explained, feeling a bit defensive about his plans. “There are fertile lands further west of here where the largest settlements will be built. I imagine that we should start seeing less sand and more rocky ground fairly soon, since our path to Jabal-Alma is taking us in that direction.”

While he hadn’t wanted to share his plans before, Zareth had no problems doing so now that he’d been forced to go semi-public. High Command had recently demanded that all of the factions in Tal’Qamar submit claims on the lands that they wished to acquire after the war was over. The deadline for these submissions was several months from now, but Zareth had decided that it was in his cult’s best interest to act early.

According to his contacts in the Tessik, who continued to keep Zareth up to date with Tal’Qamar’s internal politics via his golem, High Command was trying to keep relations between the Great Houses stable. Forcing them to explicitly state their intentions for territorial expansion was the best way to prevent future conflicts.

This change of policy was apparently made in response to private meetings between the Great Houses becoming increasingly hostile. It was a good idea in Zareth’s opinion and demonstrated to him that General Nasrith had enough autonomy from the Great Houses to both know about and act in response to those meetings.

It was good to know. Especially with High Command showing favor to the Cult of Cerebon.

“I’ve never been there myself, but the land is said to be good,” said Rizok, expression growing thoughtful. “Were it not for the Narakanai, I’m certain that this region would be more populated. Their raids are incredibly troublesome to deal with unless you have a decent navy, like Anket does, or are built far enough inland.”

The underwater kingdom of aggressive fish people would definitely be a problem, but not one that Zareth had to deal with right now.

“I hope High Command manages to hold Anket back while we’re completing our mission,” Zareth said, feeling a little bit worried when he recalled that their destination was uncomfortably close to the frontlines. “It’d be pretty unfortunate if we all suddenly found ourselves behind enemy lines. Maybe they could even push the lines further west so that I can scout a decent spot to place a future settlement. Doing so from just a map is almost impossible.”

“Hmph. If there was a chance of things changing so drastically any time soon, I would have spoken against this little adventure,” said Rizok, the firmness in his eyes making clear his commitment to their safety. “The Southern Legion is highly specialized in defensive engagements and has secured a very entrenched position in some ravines near Anket. The terrain is rocky due to the nearby mountains, and the enemy has sent the bulk of their forces to the northern front. The southern front will almost certainly stay stagnant unless the war’s dynamics change significantly.”

Zareth had already done some research into the military situation since leaving Tal’Hadin, but it was still nice to have his assessment reaffirmed.

Scouting the lands further west was actually a fairly important objective that Zareth wanted to accomplish before he left. If the frontlines did in fact stay stagnant like Rizok predicted, then Zareth would need to see if he could find a safe way to explore behind enemy lines. Perhaps through the use of a flesh golem imbedded with an [Eye of Cerebon] or something similar.

He hoped that the locals of Jabal-Alma might have an idea since they knew the area better than he did himself, but he might just have to give up the idea if it proved too risky.

Zareth was pulled from his thoughts by the chuckles of the middle-aged lizardkin seated at the front of the wagon and driving the caravan. Her name was Skaara, and she was a member of the Tessik who had been assigned to guide them to Jabal-Alma as she possessed the [Desert Pathfinder] class.

While the Desharin served the role of guiding people in Tal’Qamar through the Qahtani Desert, other cities tended to train their own experts in desert navigation.

“Speaking of mountains, sir, we aren’t too far off from the Emperor’s Range now,” said Skaara, gesturing toward the horizon where a faint outline of towering peaks could be seen, slicing through the sky like serrated blades. “That means it’ll only be a short while before we come across the damned mirage that’s swallowing folks. I have a few special skills that’ll allow us to navigate it for a while, but the caravan’s gonna have to move pretty carefully when we reach it.”

“Do you have a lot of experience with the mirage?” Zareth asked curiously, ignoring the trace of tension that clouded Rizok’s expression. “Given that it’s been there for nearly nine months and that only relatively high-level guides are capable of getting close to it safely, I imagine that you likely helped investigate it at some point. We’re lucky to have you.”

For more reasons than one, Zareth thought but didn’t say in front of Vidhatri and the surrounding soldiers.

When the caravan wasn’t attacked shortly after leaving Tal’Hadin, it’d been determined that the next most likely moment for a potential ambush was once they started approaching the mirage. The safest and most direct path to Jabal-Alma would take them fairly close to the mirage, giving House Khysar a place where they knew that Zareth would reliably pass and could stage an ambush from. The fact that the mirage would disorient the caravan would definitely help the attackers as well.

Having a trustworthy, competent guide who Zareth knew hadn’t been paid off by House Khysar was truly fortunate.

“Yeah, I’ve been to the mirage. I even entered and exited its outer edges to help Tal’Hadin’s [Mages] figure out what was happening inside,” Skaara said, her voice upbeat despite the dangerous situation that they were approaching. “Whatever’s causing the mirage, it’s much spookier than the ones made by System Spawn. It messes up your perception of space and makes you feel as if you’re in an entirely different world. Gets stronger the deeper you go in, as well. Even I’ll get trapped if I’m not careful.”

Zareth nodded in understanding before opening his third eye and sweeping his gaze across the horizon. Now that the chance of them being ambushed had risen dramatically, Zareth couldn’t afford to let himself be distracted by idle conversation.

[Eye of Cerebon] was the most potent tool that their caravan had against illusion and other means of obfuscation that potential ambushers might use. He couldn’t see anything of note aside from an abnormally large cluster of Living Sands off in the distance, but Zareth forced himself to remain vigilant over the next hour of travel.

Their caravan remained relatively quiet as the landscape began to change the closer they got to the Emperor’s Range. Sand gave way to rockier terrain, the sparse vegetation of the desert was replaced by a more varied flora, and the local monsters gradually became more suited for the rougher terrain. By now, they were close enough to the mountains that Zareth could see snow gathering on their tips and large creatures flying near the peaks.

However, neither Zareth nor anyone else in the caravan spotted anything that would imply that they were about to be ambushed. Zareth wasn’t sure if that should make him feel relieved or even more on edge. The Tessik were fairly confident that House Khysar was up to something nefarious, even if they couldn’t determine the specifics, but that didn’t mean that the attack necessarily had to come now.

It would be just as effective to ambush Zareth and his caravan during the journey back to Tal’Hadin or even find a way to hinder them that was a bit more creative. As dangerous as being attacked by the Great House’s paid [Assassins] might be, Zareth honestly hoped for something so straightforward given that he had both Rizok and Vidhatri protecting him.

Not to mention the many life-preserving augmentations that he’d added to his body, which bolstered his confidence when it came to surviving direct confrontation.

Just as Zareth was about to ask Rizok for his perspective on the lack of any threat, there was a sudden change in their surroundings that had everyone tensing on high alert.

“Ha! No need to worry, friends. It seems like we stumbled into that pesky mirage, but I’ll have us out of here in a jiffy,” Sakaara declared confidently.

Zareth was glad that their guide seemed so sure of themselves, but that did little to reassure him as he and the rest of the caravan gaped dumbfoundedly at the sight before them.

Between one heartbeat and the next, Zareth had gone from admiring the gradually changing environment while keeping an eye out for [Assassins] to standing in what looked to be the ruins of an underground city built into the walls of a vast cavern. Rows upon rows of empty dwelling carved into rock stretched far off into the distance as a veritable maze of streets and alleyways unfolded before them. Looking above, Zareth could see several long and decrepit stone walkways connecting different levels of the city, creating a complex network high above them.

When Zareth glanced back toward their path of arrival, he couldn’t help but stumble back as he realized their caravan was now standing atop a ledge that overlooked a steep drop, plunging into an abyss that seemed to consume any light.

“Scary, isn’t it? This is one of the reasons why I said this illusion is so much more dangerous than those nasty System Spawn,” said Skaara as she calmed down the panicked ghoraks with a few soothing touches. “We probably stumbled into the borders of the mirage a while back, but it only activated once we got in deep enough that we couldn’t immediately turn around and leave. At least, that’s what that group of fancy [Mages] the Swarm Lord hired to investigate told me when I brought ’em here. Makes it hard to pin down exactly where it starts and ends, and before you know it, you’re in the thick of it.”

Zareth had already known from past reports that the magical phenomenon was uncomfortably close to Jabal-Alma. There had always been a good chance of the caravan encountering it on their journey, even if he didn’t need to investigate and get rid of the thing himself.

However, experiencing the mirage first-hand was entirely different from reading about it in reports.

“Is… this truly an illusion?” Vidhatri asked, her voice shaking with a rare tremor of awe and uncertainty. “It’s difficult to believe. I feel as if I’ve suddenly stepped into another world entirely. I have never even heard of illusions capable of feeling so real.”

Zareth traded a subtle glance with Rizok, who had been organizing the caravan’s unsettled soldiers in a defensive formation around the wagons. They were both quite familiar with a faction who had once been able to make uncommonly sophisticated illusions. Contemporary magic was generally superior to the magic of ancient times, but the illusions of the Nephalan Empire were a definite exception.

Likely because the Conclave seemed to have made efforts to expurgate any information about that time in history, and there hadn’t been much research since into a relatively esoteric niche branch of magic. Nobody besides Zareth, Rizok, and presumably Skaara knew that one of the goals of this mission was for them to find the Nephalan Empire ruins, which the Tessik believed were hidden somewhere in this area.

Apart from lessening the influence that the Conclave had on Jabal-Alma and ensuring that the settlement could be integrated into the greater Tal’Qamari polity, everyone believed that their only other objective was to resolve the mirage problem. Now that Zareth had seen just how advanced the mirage actually was, he had a suspicion that some of his objectives might just be a bit more interconnected than he initially thought.

“How are we supposed to know which way to go if we can’t trust our sense of direction?” Zareth asked as he glanced distrustfully toward the bottomless chasm behind them. “I’d normally assume that we could just go back the way we came, but I somehow feel like that would be a bad idea…”

[Eye of Cerebon] could tell that there was something… off with his surroundings, and Zareth could sense that the Etherveil was highly concentrated here, but none of his senses told him how to navigate the illusion.

“Well, that’s what you have me for, darling,” Skaara said with a cheeky smirk before turning her gaze to the cityscape. “[Banish Obfuscation] [Undeviating Path]. [Share Route] “

Zareth wasn’t sure why Skaara spoke the names of her skills out loud until he felt them directly affecting him and realized that the lizardkin had only done so to warn them. It would have been unwise to covertly use her skills on a bunch of tense soldiers.

The first seemed to somehow weaken the illusion around them, allowing Zareth to better sense the Ether fluctuating in the surroundings even if his third eye still couldn’t pierce the mirage completely. The second presumably created an intuitive understanding of the path that they needed to follow, while the last of Skaara’s skills shared it with everyone in the caravan via some form of telepathic link and also provided them with an awareness of each other’s positions.

Zareth couldn’t help but feel impressed and a bit reassured that they had someone with Skaara’s expertise guiding them.

“All right. That should do it,” Skaara said brightly before returning to the driving seat of the wagon and grabbing the ghorak’s reins. “Everyone stay close and keep your eyes peeled! Even if there’s little chance of [Assassins] being able to navigate this place to find us, that doesn’t mean we’re safe. I heard some of my colleagues talk about things jumping out of dark places to attack ’em when they tried to delve in too deep, so we better be careful.”

With that reassuring little announcement, Skaara gave the caravan a few moments to prepare before urging the ghorak forward into the underground city. The path they took followed no rhyme or reason, constantly turning into random alleyways or diverting into seemingly inconsequential streets, but it did give Zareth a good opportunity to study the illusory city in great detail.

And the more he looked, the more Zareth became convinced that what he was seeing was far too detailed to have been crafted for a simple illusion. Peering into the ruined buildings carved into the cavern walls, he could make out the remnants of furnishings, the faded colors of once-vibrant murals, and the subtle signs of a city that had once been teeming with life. The craftsmanship was exquisite, each detail meticulously rendered to create a sense of authenticity that was almost unnerving.

He had no doubt in his mind that the mirage was showing Zareth scenes of a very real place.

Of course, that didn’t tell him very much.

None of the architecture seemed similar to what he would expect from Nephalan Empire ruins, or any other civilization that Zareth could recall. For all he knew, the underground city could be anywhere in the world or even from an entirely different period of time.

It was nearly impossible to know for certain without figuring out the source of the mirage, so Zareth decided not to waste more time speculating.

“Well… this is a bit more eerie than I’d been hoping my day would turn out,” said Zareth as their caravan passed through a destroyed courtyard, the utter silence of the place adding to the unsettling atmosphere. “I can’t help but feel glad that I never became an Adventurer if these are the kinds of situations they regularly find themselves in.”

“A wise choice on your part. I’ve never seen the appeal in delving into strange ruins for no good purpose,” Rizok said with a trace of disdain as he looked around warily. “I’d prefer a straightforward battlefield over this any day. At least there I can see my enemies charging and wouldn’t need to worry about [Aura of Greater Perception] being suppressed.”

“Only dwarves and lunatics would willingly live beneath the ground like this,” said Vidhatri, seeming to be even more unenthused about their surroundings than Rizok. “I find myself curious about the fate of the heathens who once lived here. I see no signs of battle, yet this place stands empty and forsaken. It is as if this city’s inhabitants disappeared all at once.”

Zareth hadn’t noticed that at first, but he could see signs that Vidhatri was correct that the illusion of the city seemed to have been in the midst of everyday life now that he looked closer. Plates were set on tables as if expecting diners, tools were left where workers might have just set them down, and wooden toys similar to those enjoyed by the children of most sapient races were scattered in the streets. It made little sense, as even a city that was about to face some sort of sudden cataclysmic event would show signs of disruption…

“It makes me wonder what we would find in the deeper parts of the city instead of skirting along its edges,” Zareth murmured thoughtfully as he looked toward the shadowy tunnels winding into the heart of the underground metropolis.

“Well, nobody that ever went that way has managed to come back, so let’s not find out,” said Skaara, her tone still upbeat but carrying an undercurrent of tension. “It shouldn’t be long now until we exit the mirage, though we’ll probably stumble into it every now and again until we actually reach Jabal-Alma. It’s sort of like walking through a patchwork quilt, where some patches of land are what we’d expect and the others are… whatever this place is.”

True to Skaara’s words, their caravan eventually emerged from the mirage while passing over a deep chasm via a distressingly deteriorated bridge. The abrupt shift in environment was disorienting as Zareth found himself standing above ground once again.

His pessimistic side expected an ambush to happen right then and there, but everything remained quiet as the caravan continued on its path.

Everyone kept on high alert over the next few hours as Skaara led them westward to Jabal-Alma. There were several more times when they were pulled back into the mirage, but nothing overly dramatic occurred, and Zareth found his tension fading and his sense of curiosity coming to the forefront.

Now that he had the opportunity, Zareth began to use [Eye of Cerenbon] and his familiarity with the Etherveil to analyze the mirage both from the inside and out. All of the Skill Points that he had invested into his third eye proved useful, as the slowed sense of perception and heightened visual acuity allowed Zareth to notice details that he might have otherwise missed.

While he was still convinced that the people who once lived here weren’t expecting whatever catastrophe took them out, the city did seem like it was preparing for some kind of military attack. Any streets leading to higher levels and presumably to the surface were fortified, and there were traces of what might have been barriers or checkpoints. It was as if the city was on high alert, bracing for a threat from above, but there were no signs of a successful defense—or any conflict at all.

Zareth couldn’t help but wonder if the city’s anticipated attackers managed to somehow defeat them in a way they never saw coming…

Likewise, the mirage was just as much of a mystery from a purely magical perspective as well. The Etherveil inside of the mirage felt like a tempestuous, pulsing storm while the outside felt as calm and as solid as the high-grade wards used by High Command’s [War Mages]. Not only that, but there was something about the Ether that felt almost… raw and unrefined, much like the magic from Meldorath’s temple.

The mirage quickly proved itself to be even more fascinating than Zareth expected, and he was soon enthralled with his attempts to unravel its mysteries.

In retrospect… it was probably unwise of him to have grown so distracted when he’d spent most of the trip anticipating an ambush. Especially when they had just exited the mirage and were thus more vulnerable.

“Everyone, down!”

The sound of Rizok’s shouting was followed by a sudden surge of power as the [Aura Blade] activated his many auras. Rizok must not have trusted him to react quickly enough, because he pulled Zareth down into the wagon’s interior just before he heard the sharp sound of some manner of mechanism being triggered.

Half a second later, the wooden walls of the wagon were pierced by a barrage of sharp, needle-like projectiles. Eager to see what was happening, Zareth poked his head out of the wagon immediately after the initial attack and used the slowed perception of his third eye to assess the situation.

The contingent of soldiers had all taken a defensive formation, shields raised quickly enough to protect them from the same projectiles that had struck the wagon while Skaara hid behind them with wide, frightened eyes. Every member of Zareth’s retinue had received augmentation templates most appropriate for their roles, and the massive Bulwarks proved just how effective they were by only suffering a few scratches from the sudden ambush.

Vidhatri was completely safe within a barrier of bone and flesh formed from her many arms that surrounded both her and the ghoraks. Zareth saw her glaring at something and followed her gaze to a strange, spherical device covered in small holes and runes that was buried partially in the nearby dirt.

It was likely some kind of [Artificer] device that had been placed along the caravan’s anticipated route by the heavily armed figures, all of which seemed to be humans with Eldamiri features, currently emerging from under the sand and rocks in every direction like a group of murderous gophers. Just as Zareth and Rizok jumped out of the wagon to help fend off the ambush, he caught sight of the runes along the trap beginning to glow out of the corner of his eye.

Rizok must have noticed as well, because he let out a curse and shouted. “[Trapsetter Assassin]! Everyone, prepare for a second volley!”

Zareth’s heart hammered in his chest as he used [Template Body] to quickly shift into his Bulwark form and hide behind a shield of bone. Not only had he been surprised and caught out in the open after leaving the wagon, but the enemy must have used a skill to enhance the traps because the second volley was far worse than the first.

Zareth watched in slow motion as the traps rose into the air and spewed forth a hail of needles toward their position. They pierced deeply into his reinforced bone defenses and impacted with such force that he was nearly sent tumbling over by the sheer momentum. Zareth could sense that the projectiles were laced with some kind of poison, but none of them managed to get into his body, so it hardly mattered.

A quick glance toward Vidhatri showed her detaching clumps of her flesh shield where it was struck, so the poison must have been fairly potent.

Rizok’s warning had been enough for everyone to get behind defenses in time, but the surprise second volley pinned them down long enough for the [Assassins] to get in close and attack.

Given that the enemy had known the composition of his caravan, Zareth was unsurprised to see that they were heavily outnumbered. However, the favor he’d earned with High Command showed its value as the soldiers assigned to him, all of which were veteran combatants, surged forward with an organized precision that spoke of countless hours of training and real battle experience.

Before long, the area was filled with the sound of clashing steel and grunts of exertion as the battle began. Zareth knew that it would be foolish and reckless for him to jump into a melee when he was likely the least experienced combatant on the battlefield, with the possible exception of Skaara, but he still intended to contribute.

Zareth positioned himself behind a large ogre [Shieldbearer], who had been even further enlarged with the Bulwark template. The massive soldier was heavily armored and looked as if he spent his time wrestling elephants for fun, making him the perfect meat shield to hide behind.

He sent forward several spiked tendrils that curved around the ogre and struck at a female [Assassin]. She dodged his attacks with ease, but the ogre soldier quickly exploited the distraction with a swing of his sword that the [Assassin] barely avoided, followed by an immediate [Shield Charge], which she didn’t.

The [Shieldbearer] had clearly learned how to take advantage of the Bulwark’s bone spikes because the woman suffered several deep puncture wounds after the ogre charged toward her with unnatural speed.

Zareth reacted by firing a volley of poisoned quills at the woman when she frantically fell back to treat her wound with a healing potion. Several of the quills pierced her back until a dome of solid stone was raised around the injured [Assassin], most likely by whichever [Geomancer] had helped the enemy hide in the ground for their ambush.

He had no way to finish off his target while they were being protected, so he turned his attention to providing assistance to his allies.

Zareth lost himself to the frenzy of battle as spiked tendrils stuck opportunistically at enemy blind spots, quills were fired to make openings, and any injuries were healed with a touch of his hand.

It became clear almost immediately to him why Rizok had seemed so confident in their caravan’s ability to deal with an ambush, as his auras turned their small group into a deadly fighting force that could fight well above its weight.

The enemy [Assassins] were a heavily armed and diverse group of well-prepared professionals, but each of the soldiers seemed to become a blur of steel as they held their own against multiple assailants at once. Zareth had equipped his retinue’s [Archer] with the Mirage Stalker template, and they were making good use of it to launch devastating attacks from concealed locations, greatly impeding the enemy’s ability to coordinate their ambush.

It was an impressive sight and clearly demonstrated that the true power of Rizok’s class lay in its ability to act as a force multiplier, but Zareth didn’t allow himself to grow overconfident. The ambushers must have known exactly what they were getting into when they attacked the caravan and would have devised a plan to deal with them.

Even as he continued to provide support, Zareth frantically swept the battlefield in search of any hidden dangers.

He had never stopped training with Rizok, and he had done his best to memorize the most common kinds of classes and tactics that he was likely to face.

Rizok was being pinned down by what could only be a high-level human [Weapon Master], her every movement flawless and precise as her weapon morphed from a halberd to a rapier to a large greatsword, keeping the [Aura Blade] off balance whenever he tried to adapt.

Predictably, Vidhatri had turned into a horror show of pulsing flesh and teeth that barely even resembled a shivarath anymore. Dozens of tentacles whipped around her at speeds fast enough to break the sound barrier, each of them completely covered in vicious maws filled with razor-sharp teeth. Her already tall body had grown several feet and surrounded itself in a cocoon of spikes and bone, her four eyes filled with murderous intent the only thing visible through the protective barrier.

It was obvious that the enemy had known the least about Vidhatri, as several eviscerated corpses lay in pieces around her and five [Assassins] focused solely on attacking her. Even as Zareth watched, one of them began screaming when they were too slow to avoid being captured by a tentacle and promptly devoured by dozens of ravenous maws.

The gruesome scene proved that Vidhatri needed no assistance and that the enemy wouldn’t be able to sustain the skirmish forever, so Zareth continued to search for hidden threats.

His vigilance was likely the only reason why he noticed the traces of Ether moving below him in time to respond.

“Shit!”

Zareth grabbed Skaara by the arm and pulled them both to the side just as the ground beneath her exploded upward. He only had a moment to register the scene of the ghorak being skewered by spikes of earth before he was forced to block a roundhouse kick from a lightly armored ogre that broke the reinforced bone around his arm and sent him flying several feet back. Zareth attempted to attack the man with his tendrils, but a single kick from them blurred into six different strikes that immediately severed them from his body.

What is he? Some kind of [Martial Artist] mixed with a [Geomancer]? Zareth pondered as he studied his opponent and noticed that the stone beneath their feet rippled subtly with each of the man’s movements. This guy is the only one among the attackers who isn’t a human. Was he hired for this job specifically, or is it just a coincidence?

Zareth expected that he would be the man’s primary target, but the moment he saw his opponent turn their attention to Skaara, he immediately understood the ambushers’ plan.

It was no accident that the ghoraks had been killed and the wagon destroyed. If Skaara was to be killed as well, then their caravan would not only be stuck in the middle of nowhere, but they would also have no way to get out of the mirage. Realizing this, Zareth hurriedly directed his golem in Tal’Qamar to hide away in the cult’s spire so that he couldn’t be fully isolated. However, it would still likely take High Command months to send people capable of rescuing them even if he maintained the means of contacting them.

By then, who knew what would happen.

Glancing at his allies, Zareth determined that they were still all effectively engaged in battle and wouldn’t be able to help.

That meant he would need to act on his own if he wanted to prevent Skaara from being killed and the rest of them from being stranded for who knows how long.

His decision made, Zareth charged forward as the ogre began stalking toward Skaara, who was still reeling from the near miss. He had already regenerated his tendrils in the time he took to assess the situation and attacked with them again from a variety of angles while thrusting forward a spear of bone that emerged from his right hand, aiming directly at the ogre’s center mass.

The ogre leaned to the side and casually shattered the spear with a swift, precise punch before stomping his feet and blocking the incoming tendrils with a dome of stone that surrounded him. Zareth waited several moments for an attack, only to sense a trail of Ether moving beneath the ground toward Skaara again and immediately began running in the lizardkin’s direction.

After pulling Skaara away for a second time moments before the man emerged just beneath where she had been standing, Zareth’s opponent seemed to understand that he wouldn’t be able to take out the [Pathfinder] without dealing with him first. Zareth’s heart raced as the eight-foot-tall ogre, who was almost certainly capable of decapitating him with a well-placed kick to the neck, began charging toward him with violent intent.

He’d already seen that the Bulwark’s defenses were unable to withstand the ogre’s strikes, so Zareth used [Template Body] to shift to his much more agile, personal template. While his ability to change the biologies of other people had few limits, [Permanent Flesh Manipulation] became progressively more difficult to use on a person the further they were modified from their natural state. This meant that the templates he had designed for High Command were generalized and designed to be as universally applicable as possible.

The increased “flesh malleability” provided by [Cerebon’s Boon] meant that Zareth’s body could be modified a bit more than most people, a fact which he had thoroughly exploited when designing his own form.

In addition to the tendrils, quills, and all of the other useful features that he’d been using since he acquired [Permanent Flesh Manipulation], Zareth had also added the most useful parts of the templates provided to High Command. Consequently, its defensive capabilities were only slightly worse than the Bulwark’s, and it could also create most of the virulent toxins of the Plaguebringer.

The Mirage Stalker’s stealth capabilities were impossible to replicate without making the body more fragile, so those modifications had been left out. Zareth could still become invisible by using [Template Body], but the skill could only be used once every ten seconds.

Zareth’s augmentations were the only reason why he could withstand or dodge the flurry of blows sent by his opponent while also emitting a concoction of several scentless substances into the air. It would be a while until most of them took effect, so Zareth was still forced to use every trick that he’d been taught by Rizok to survive the ogre’s onslaught.

He was actually able to avoid a surprising number of the strikes, likely due to his aura-induced enhancements, while his redundant organs and potent defenses allowed him to deal with the rest. For some reason, Zareth had the impression that the ogre didn’t seem all that interested in finishing him off, but the constant glances toward Skaara and the steadily stronger blows made it clear that their patience was wearing thin. Zareth realized that he was being herded even farther away from his allies, but there was little he could do.

Besides, that might just work to his benefit soon enough if he didn’t need to worry about any allies being close to the substances he was still emitting.

Leaning away from an uppercut that would have utterly shattered his jaw, Zareth ejected a stream of acid toward the ogre’s face from both palms while leaping backward to gain distance. He expected his opponent to dodge the attack, but the ogre merely ignored the acid as it splashed across his skin while charging forward and launching a precise kick toward his left leg, which practically turned everything below his knee into a gory mess.

The ogre must have expected such a devastating attack to put him out of commission, but [Deaden Nerves] meant that Zareth felt nothing and could thus retaliate with a dozen, venom-bearing tendrils and a volley of quills from a range too close to avoid. Zareth felt a surge of triumph as the ogre’s eyes widened in surprise, and the many attacks made impact, only to himself be caught off guard when all of them failed to have any effect.

Both the quills and the tendrils were unable to pierce his skin, while the acid sizzled across the ogre’s chest with no discernible result. Even the tendril which Zareth had wrapped around the ogre’s leg before activating [Corrode Flesh] failed to do anything, and he couldn’t even sense any of his opponent’s biology as he should.

It was only after scanning the ogre with his third eye and spotting a small crack where one of the tendrils hit that Zareth concluded that his opponent’s body seemed to be acting more like stone instead of flesh.

Well… I guess that’s one way to deal with a caravan that has two people capable of manipulating flesh, Zareth thought to himself, heart dropping as he realized that he was outmatched. Depending on how his class works, even my toxins might end up being useless.

Not only was his opponent likely higher-level than him and more experienced, but he’d almost certainly been hired specifically to counter his and Vidhatri’s abilities. Sometimes… he really wished that his enemies would just be slightly less thoughtful.

“Impressive.”

That deep-voiced acknowledgment was all that the ogre said before charging toward Zareth again, this time no longer bothering to dodge his counterattacks. While he’d already begun the process of healing his destroyed limb, he wasn’t like Vidhatri and couldn’t recreate an entire leg from nothing in seconds.

This meant that he was forced to use his tendrils as a type of pseudo limb to pull himself away from the ogre. Zareth knew that he wouldn’t be able to run from his opponent for very long, so he used his third eye to swiftly scan the battlefield before deciding on a course of action.

Rizok had managed to significantly wound his enemy, but the [Weapon Master] had seemingly managed to shatter his sword and was leveraging the long reach of a halberd to keep the lizardkin occupied. The soldiers seemed to have only suffered a single fatality while dealing several more to their opponents, but they too were stuck in an apparent stalemate.

That meant that there was only one route to take.

“Skaara! Go to Vidhatri!” Zareth shouted as he barely pulled himself away from a large spike of earth that threatened to impale him through the stomach.

His shout was loud enough to catch the attention of everyone on the battlefield, but he had little other choice. Thankfully, Zareth’s allies seemed to have understood that Skaara was being targeted and moved to intercept anyone who tried to attack her as the [Pathfinder] scurried toward Vidhatri. The shivarath had already torn most of her enemies to pieces and would be the most capable of protecting Skaara.

The ogre attempted to sprint past Zareth in pursuit of Skaara, likely trusting his defenses to handle anything that was thrown at him. That may have worked, if not for Zareth’s Sigils.

Activating the magical organ in his hands responsible for his Minor Pyrokinesis, Zareth created a small flame several feet in front of him a moment after surrounding himself in the strongest barrier of reinforced bone that he could create. He braced himself as the fire ignited the combustible gas that he’d been spewing ever since he had engaged the ogre.

The subsequent explosion was loud enough that Zareth was forced to regenerate his destroyed eardrums even as the shockwaves tore through his barrier. The barrier took a significant amount of damage, but it barely managed to hold on long enough for him to emerge mostly unscathed from his defenses.

Surveying the explosion’s aftermath, Zareth was relieved to see that the ogre had herded him far enough from his allies that they were out of the explosion range. Both the wagon and the corpses of the ghoraks had obviously been blown to bits, but that didn’t matter all that much to Zareth.

What did matter was that the ogre had somehow reacted quickly enough to create a barrier of stone against the explosion and survive! Albeit with a litany of cracks across his gray skin that made it look like he was about to shatter into pieces at any second, but still!

Zareth knew that high-level combatants were tough to put down, but this was ridiculous.

Despite his frustration, Zareth’s surprise attack had successfully managed to catch his opponent off guard and allowed him to defeat someone who should have been out of his league. When the ogre burrowed into the ground and Zareth sensed a subsequent trail of Ether headed away from the battlefield, he knew that he’d won.

Unfortunately, that didn’t mean that the battle was over.

Zareth quickly glanced toward Skaara and saw that she’d reached halfway to Vidhatri and was hiding behind the same armored ogre soldier who he’d used as cover earlier from several [Assassins] who had attempted to intercept her. The battle seemed to be turning in their favor overall, but the enemy’s increased desperation still posed a significant threat.

He wanted to help, but he had only managed to regrow the bones in his left leg and didn’t trust them to hold up in a prolonged melee. He could use his Toxic Cloud Sigil to direct a cloud of paralytic toxins toward the attackers, but there was a good chance that it would also affect his allies.

Therefore, Zareth prepared to activate the most useful of his recently acquired abilities. The complex Sigil had taken up the rest of his body’s Sigil Capacity which hadn’t been used to sustain his Toxic Cloud and Minor Pyrokinesis, but seeing the results now made it clear to him that it was worth it.

As one of the [Assassins] attacking Skaara leapt forward to exploit her distracted state, Zareth activated the Sigil that he’d derived in his perpetual research into flight, which he’d aptly named “Minor Decrease Gravity.” He nearly laughed when the [Assassin] went flying awkwardly into the air, his trajectory far higher and longer than expected, only to be killed by an arrow from one of his retinue’s [Archers] when the momentary surprise faded.

Continuing to make use of Minor Decrease Gravity to sabotage anyone who tried to attack Skaara, the lizardkin was able to make her way to the safety of Vidhatri’s protective tentacles. Seeing that she was safe, Zareth promptly created a straight piece of reinforced bone approximately as long as Rizok’s sword and threw it toward the [Aura Blade].

Rizok didn’t even need to look to catch it before immediately using [Temporary Blade], transforming the bone into a sharp saber, and charging toward the injured [Weapon Master]. While Zareth’s friend hadn’t shared information about every skill he possessed, he’d sparred Rizok often enough to have a good idea of what he could do.

It didn’t take long after that for the enemy to realize that there was little chance of them successfully killing the [Pathfinder] and called for a retreat. Their [Trapsetter Assassin] must have managed to survive, because an annoying number of traps similar to the ones from before suddenly activated, providing perfect cover for most of them to withdraw.

Zareth emerged from his cover after the dust settled, his hearts pounding as adrenaline began to fade. The battlefield was a grim tableau of the brutal skirmish that had just occurred. Soldiers were already moving to secure the area, their faces grim as they checked for any lingering threats or traps left behind by the retreating assailants. The corpses of the two soldiers who had fallen in battle were carefully gathered and wrapped in the crimson cloaks that all Tal’Qamari soldiers wore.

Zareth and Vidhatri both began using their abilities to heal the wounds of anyone who needed it. Meanwhile, Rizok began to organize the caravan in preparation for a quick march to Jabal-Alma. They should be fairly close, so it would be best for them to get to safety as quickly as possible.

“You really saved my scales out there, huh?” Skaara said once Zareth began approaching her for healing, voice still upbeat but clearly shaken. “I knew that we’d probably be attacked once we left Tal’Hadin, but I didn’t expect ’em to be so eager to get rid of me in particular. Shame that they managed to destroy the wagon and those poor ghoraks.”

“If it’s any comfort, I doubt that they’ll try again any time soon,” Zareth said, attempting to reassure her as he began tending to her injuries. “They took far more casualties than we did, and we now have a good idea of their class composition. It would be suicide to attack again without getting reinforcements, which we should get first given our proximity to the Southern Legion.”

That seemed to relieve the frightened lizardkin somewhat, allowing Zareth to focus on his task. Most of her wounds were fairly simple to handle and weren’t particularly serious. Just as he was about to finish, he was startled as Skaara suddenly coughed up a small splatter of blood, her face contorting in pain. At the same time, he discovered a trace of strange poison within one of her knife wounds that he hadn’t noticed before.

Zareth’s hearts skipped a beat as the poison slowly disappeared from his perception once again, and he quickly activated [Minor Purify Flesh] where he last sensed the poison in an effort to cleanse Skaara’s body of any residual toxins. That immediately proved to be a mistake as the lizardkin began coughing even more violently, her body convulsing with intense spasms.

“Fuck! Vidhatri!” Zareth called out in panic as the poison began raving Skaara’s body.

It only took a second for Vidhatri to arrive and attempt to heal the lizardkin, her expression growing frustrated after a few moments. “It’s no use. [Greater Purify Flesh] can put the poison into some kind of stasis, but it’s only temporary. She needs to be brought to a dedicated [Healer] if she is to live.”

Zareth let out another curse before turning to Rizok, who was already shouting at everyone to organize into a defensive formation. Jabal-Alma was their best hope at finding that [Healer], and they couldn’t afford to send Skaara ahead without risking the rest of the caravan being picked off. Zareth and Vidhatri, who carried the sickly lizardkin with her lower four arms so that she could continue using [Greater Purify Flesh], were placed in the center of the group as the soldiers surrounded them.

The armored ogre soldier, whose name eluded him, activated his [Swift March] skill, while Rizok reactivated his [Aura of Bolstering] and [Aura of Quickness]. Their group moved at full speed as they followed Skaara’s [Undeviating Path] toward Jabal-Alma, the landscape a blur.

They would eventually have to come back for the supplies and bodies that they’d been forced to leave behind, but the consequences if Skaara died made this an emergency. They ran past monsters, through the mirage, and over treacherous terrain at a frantic pace. Zareth wasn’t sure how fast or how far they traveled, but he quickly noticed their surroundings begin to change as they sprinted westward.

Their relative proximity to the coast meant that these lands were fairly fertile and supported a more diverse array of flora than Zareth had ever seen during his second life. He also started to see several sinkholes dotting the landscape, which wasn’t surprising given that Jabal-Alma was built around a cenote.

When he finally spotted a large stonewall off in the distance, Zareth could have cheered in relief. Skaara’s condition had remained stable, but he could see that Vidhatri was beginning to sweat from exertion, skill exhaustion likely creeping up on her after such a long battle and continuous activations of [Greater Purify Flesh].

It seemed like the locals had somehow seen them coming, as a large group of ogres wearing leather armor and carrying strange, glowing spears were waiting for them atop the wall. Their skin was significantly smoother and far more pale than the ogres of Tal’Qamar, while also possessing sharper, more elf-like ears.

Zareth would normally be interested in studying these differences, but this obviously wasn’t the right time.

“Greetings, people of Jabal-Alma. I am Apostle Zareth, leader of the Cult of Cerebon,” Zareth shouted as soon as he was close enough to be heard, not wanting to deal with a long back and forth. “As you should have been informed, I have been sent here to represent Tal’Qamar. But our [Pathfinder] was attacked during the journey and needs to see a [Healer] immediately! We ask that you allow us entrance into your settlement as quickly as possible.”

The tall, pale ogres began glancing at each other. Zareth’s enhanced senses didn’t see or hear any of them speaking, so they must have had some other means of communicating privately. After several tense moments, the largest of the ogres stepped forward and spoke aloud for the first time.

“You may enter. Your weapons will be confiscated, and your injured tended to.”

There was a faint, ethereal quality to the ogre’s voice that set Zareth on edge, especially when he was told that his group would be disarmed. However, there was little time to argue, and it wasn’t completely unreasonable for foreign visitors to be relieved of their weapons before being allowed into a city.

Something about the ogres told him that they wouldn’t be impressed or intimidated by Zareth’s eventual claim on these lands, so it was best to simply play along.

Rizok and the soldiers were reluctant to give up their weapons but did so without complaint and handed them to one of the ogres who jumped down from the walls once Zareth agreed. Thankfully, the ogres didn’t waste any time opening the gates and allowing them inside. The city consisted of a collection of buildings surrounding a large sinkhole. There wasn’t anything special about the buildings themselves besides being made from a dark, wood-like material that Zareth didn’t recognize, so he focused on the large sinkhole instead.

These buildings were likely just for the guards anyway, as the majority of Jabal-Alma’s citizens reportedly lived within the underground cenote.

The pale ogres were completely silent as their group was led down a staircase—made from the same material as the buildings—into the sinkhole. As they descended, the light of the sun began to dim until the only source of illumination was the glowing spears carried by the ogres. Zareth hadn’t realized just how deep underground the city was and grew increasingly surprised with every passing minute.

Just as he was about to ask the ogres how much longer it would take for Skaara to be brought to their [Healer], he noticed a light emanating at the bottom of the staircase.

Zareth got his first good look at Jabal-Alma after a few more minutes of descent and almost couldn’t help but stop to stare in astonishment.

A sparkling pool of water rested at the bottom of the cenote, encircled by a group of modest but well-crafted structures. All along the walls of the cenote, glowing crystals of various sizes illuminated the city of Jabal-Alma. Pale-skinned ogres moved about their daily lives, tending to gardens of massive ogre-sized mushrooms, catching strange-looking fish from the waters of their cenote, and disappearing into large tunnels that led to who knows where.

It was a captivating scene and much more impressive than Zareth had been expecting from a relatively small settlement, but it was the strange movements of the Etherveil which surprised him the most about this place…

Zareth was pulled from his thoughts by the proud voice of the ogre who had been leading them. “Welcome to Jabal-Alma, the Oasis Below. May you treat it well and receive its gifts in return. Come, outsiders. You will be escorted to your accommodations and be readied to see our [Speaker] while your wounded guide is tended to.”

Without another word, the pale ogre turned and continued through the cavernous streets of Jabal-Alma. Zareth took a moment to trade a cautious glance with Rizok before following shortly after.

Chapter 9

Zareth anxiously paced back and forth as he waited for the residents of Jabal-Alma to return with a [Healer] for Skaara.

Or rather, it was more accurate to say that he was waiting for them to bring their so-called [Crystal Speaker]. It wasn’t a class that Zareth had ever heard of before, nor could he guess its capabilities from just a name like that. Instead, Zareth was stuck anxiously hoping that these strange and isolated ogres were capable of healing the only person who could prevent him from being stranded in the middle of nowhere. This was a tall order, given that Vidhatri’s [Greater Purify Flesh] only stalled Skaara’s poison temporarily.

Upon descending into Jabal-Alma, the pale ogres had escorted Zareth and his retinue through a relatively large tunnel carved into the walls of the cenote which lead to an expansive cavernous space that served as the village’s hospital. The dimly lit interior was lined with beds filled with sickly and frail-looking ogres, each of them surrounded by strange, brightly glowing crystals. Vidhatri placed Skaara on a medical bed in a recessed, secluded area separated by a curtain before the ogre guards surprisingly left Zareth and his retinue alone to help with other tasks in Jabal-Alma.

Zareth didn’t think it all that wise for the locals to leave a bunch of strangers unattended in the middle of their village even if they had been disarmed. However, the guards had cited supposed manpower issues and a belief that he and his retinue wouldn’t be able to do much harm.

He didn’t know where that confidence came from, but it was likely true that the ogres were needed elsewhere. Zareth had picked up on an abnormal undercurrent of anxiety and urgency within the locals he’d passed while being escorted to the hospital.

The best way to describe it was that Jabal-Alma reminded him somewhat of an upturned beehive.

Even the hospital seemed unusually busy, with far more sickly-looking ogres seeking medical attention than Zareth had expected from such a small settlement. He’d attempted to probe his guides about what had caused so many people to fall ill, but the ogres had shut him down hard and unambiguously. They claimed that it was nothing for outsiders to be concerned about” and that “all questions should be directed to Chieftain Murog.”

Jabal-Alma had reportedly given a similar response to the representatives sent by High Command when Tal’Qamar first conquered the area. It was likely that things had changed significantly since then, but while various means of long-distance communication existed in this world, they were nowhere near as convenient or straightforward as back on Earth.

He very much doubted that High Command would accept that kind of answer from such a weaker party under normal circumstances, but these were far from normal times.

The Southern Legion already had its hands full with Anket and couldn’t afford to waste time disciplining such a relatively small settlement, which was why High Command had handed the matter over to the Hierophant Council. In addition to getting these people in line and purging any Conclave influence, High Command had heavily suggested that they would prefer for Zareth to deal with whatever was ailing Jabal-Alma.

Zareth hadn’t understood why they would care at first, but seeing how so many of Tal’Hadin’s fighting-age populace were conscripted for the war implied a motivation which he… wasn’t all that eager to fulfill.

He understood that war was barbaric, but these people would eventually be his responsibility, and he had very little interest in seeing them thrown into a meat grinder.

Although, he did wish that they could become a bit more friendly…

“What nonsense. How can they ignore my questions when I’m stuck waiting because all of their healers are busy,” Zareth muttered angrily before taking a deep breath to calm himself down and smiling wryly. “If I survived my second assassination attempt just to run into some kind of plague on the same day, I’m not going to be happy.”

“It is doubtful that these people are suffering from such a calamity,” said Vidhatri, responding seriously to his half-joking remark as she peeked through the curtain to the rest of the busy hospital. “The specter of death and hopelessness does not hang over them like it otherwise would.”

That was certainly true. The presence of the System and the Vitality stat meant that things like plagues and famines were unlikely to occur when compared to back on Earth. This also meant that when they did happen, they could almost always be traced back to some kind of magical or supernatural source.

Needless to say, any magical plagues virulent enough that a nation couldn’t deal with it by hiring the Healer’s Guild or Mage Academies were almost always apocalyptic in scale. Jabal-Alma would already be a village of corpses if that were the case.

“I agree with Zareth that these people could be a bit more forthcoming,” said Rizok, expression tired as he leaned against a wall, arms crossed. “Stripped of our weapons, exhausted from surviving a well-planned ambush that resulted in multiple casualties, and waiting blindly within the territory of a less than friendly populace facing some manner of unknown threat. Our day could certainly have gone better.”

Vidhatri glanced toward Rizok, likely hearing the same carefully restrained frustration and sorrow in the soldier’s voice that Zareth felt within himself. As the highest-ranking soldier within their group, Rizok had naturally taken on the role of their leader and protector.

Zareth had no doubt that Rizok blamed himself for the lives that they had lost.

Just as he was about to offer his friend what comforting words he could, Vidhatri beat him to it as she walked over to Rizok and placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder. Rizok leaned into the touch and looked back at the shivarath with a grateful smile, who also wore a rare expression of sympathy.

Zareth couldn’t help but feel a twinge of envy at their bond, as he was also upset by the loss of those soldiers.

While he hadn’t exactly gone out of his way to become best friends with the members of his retinue, it wasn’t as if he could simply brush off their deaths. Not only had they literally given their lives to protect his well-being on an expedition that he had chosen to undertake, but these soldiers were ostensibly under his command. Whether it be when he was in a gang, the head of a cult, or the leader of these soldiers, Zareth always considered himself to have a responsibility to those who followed him.

That he failed in that goal, losing lives to an ambush which he had every reason to expect, was not a good feeling.

“These Borvulk are unlikely to share any information with you before you meet their [Chieftain]. They are even more averse to outsiders than we Gruvulk due to their isolation.”

Zareth was pulled from his melancholic thoughts by a deep, rumbling voice and glanced at the source to see that the words had been spoken by the same massive ogre he’d hidden behind during the ambush.

“What do you mean, Sergeant Grunlok?” asked Rizok, much to Zareth’s relief. He really didn’t want to admit to anyone that he actually hadn’t memorized the soldier’s name. “Unfortunately, I’m only as familiar with your people’s culture as much as the ogre soldiers in the military have shared with me, which is less than I would like. What is a Borvulk?”

Zareth was also a bit curious. While him being a human gave Zareth a connection to the Desharin, he had no such access to Tal’Qamar’s similarly insular ogre community. He’d heard a few of the ogres refer to themselves as Borvulk before and thus knew that the word referred to them as a community, but they were generally uninterested in sharing more about their culture.

“Hmm… that is a difficult question to answer without first explaining a unique… quirk of ogre biology,” Sergeant Grunlok said after a moment of thoughtful silence. “Have you ever heard the term Thaumagenic Bioadaption Quotient? This is the official term those [Mages] at Veilspire Academy created to describe the relevant phenomenon.”

Zareth suddenly felt like he was back in college, randomly hearing such an academic term out of nowhere. He vaguely recognized the term, but he couldn’t remember from where and certainly didn’t recall any details.

“Thaumagenic Bioadaption Quotient, or TBQ, is essentially a measurement of how well a being’s physiology can adapt and integrate with ambient magical energies,” Vidhatri said immediately, her expression growing interested as she turned her attention to the soldier. “It’s a term which I learned during my studies to become a Senior Fleshwarper, but I’m confused as to how this relates to your people. There are very few ogres in Zumair, as far as I know.”

“That’s correct,” said Sergeant Grunlok, a hint of surprise showing in his rugged features at Vidhatri’s knowledge. “To be clear, TBQ is how those smart [Mage] and [Scholar] types explain why creatures always seem to adapt to what’s around them. Like how giant worms living underground can grow skin made of crystals and manipulate the earth, while monsters in forests sometimes start looking like trees or learn to control plants. It’s also why our humans are darker and better at handling the Qahtani Desert sun than the ones over in Eldamir.”

Rizok and the rest of the retinue seemed confused at first when they heard Vidhatri’s explanation and then enlightened at the sergeant’s follow-up, but Zareth was a bit less convinced that magic was the only factor.

Now that he’d heard their explanations, Zareth recalled that he had first seen the term Thaumagenic Bioadaption Quotient, and its Nephalan alphabet-based acronym while reading an academic book on magical biology, which he’d purchased from House Vhelan.

It referenced a unique magical phenomenon in which the people or creatures of this world became gradually and unnaturally changed by the magic of the area they lived in.

Zareth hadn’t recognized the term at first because he’d just ended up renaming it “Magical Evolution” in his head. Given that high concentrations of magic very much did change people’s biology in this world, it was difficult to pick out what could be attributed to natural selection and what was the direct result of magical influence.

Still, he was quite interested in learning what TBQ had to do with these unusually pale ogres and encouraged the sergeant to continue answering Vidhatri’s question.

“Sir, it’s related because we ogres happen to possess the highest TBQ of any sapient race,” said Sergeant Grunlok, his shoulders tense and uncomfortable as he offered an explanation. “This means that magic mutates our body far quicker and more deeply than anyone else. I’ll spare you the tedious history of it all, but the important part of it is that the Borvulk favor heavily exploiting this phenomenon while we Gurvulk do not. The Brovulk separated from the rest of our kin to settle in isolated areas thick with their chosen varieties of magic, while we prefer to live among other civilized races. Our… differences in philosophy mean that we generally don’t get along.”

Zareth winced as the sergeant finished his explanation, anticipating that the citizens of Jabal-Alma might be a tad bit more difficult to get along with than expected. Any group that isolated themselves to pursue what sounded like an ideological agenda would naturally be more resistant to outsiders than most.

He doubted that he would have ever been allowed to step foot into Jabal-Alma if not for the whole military occupation thing.

It also sort of explained why the ogres in Tal’Qamar seemed to have so much distaste for physical deformities and made him wonder why any of them were willing to join his cult.

“Why is that, Sergeant Grunlok? Given that you accepted my offer to augment your body, it doesn’t seem like you have some kind of moral objection to being changed by magic,” Zareth asked curiously, eager to learn more about a populace who would likely one day be under his stewardship.

“It’s different, Sir,” Sergeant Grunlok immediately protested, a faint scowl making his opinion of the comparison clear. “Your abilities are superficial and have few negative consequences, other than making me fit through even fewer doors than I already did. For our people, we are so sensitive to magic that excessive exposure leads to our very essence being altered, causing drastic changes in personality or physical form. These Borvulk are hardly even ogres.”

There was a degree of disdain in the sergeant’s tone that made Zareth feel uncomfortable and didn’t make much sense from his perspective. The residents of Jabal-Alma may be a bit more slender, have paler skin, and have longer ears, but they were still unmistakably ogres.

Although… now that he gave it some thought, that same description would apply to the differences between humans and elves. Zareth had never actually seen or met an elf, but everything that he had heard suggested that comparing them to humans was simply a creative way of committing suicide.

“I see. Thank you for the information, Sergeant,” said Zareth, deciding that he would reserve judgment on the topic until he learned more. “I only have a few more questions. Do you know what kind of magic these people expose themselves to? Also, do you think any of the side effects related to their absorption of magic could be the cause of the unusual number of sickly people we saw in the hospital?”

Zareth wasn’t asking that question baselessly, given what he could sense from them in the Etherveil. Ever since he had acquired [Ether Attunement], he had gotten used to constantly feeling the ebb and flow of magical energies around him, but Jabal-Alma felt like a complete void in the Etherveil from the moment he had descended into the settlement.

The only source of Ether that he could sense came from the locals, but even they felt… wrong and fake in a way that was difficult to describe. The worst of these was the sickly ogres that he’d studied with [Eye of Cerebon] as he passed by them in the hospital.

“I don’t know much about these people other than that they worship the Conclave’s twin gods, Nuriel and Amareal, so I would guess that they prefer magic related to their domains,” Sergeant Grunlok said with a careless shrug. “If so, you’re going to have a hard time convincing them to turn away from the Conclave. As for your other question, it’d depend on a lot of factors. I’d recommend that you talk about it with whichever unfortunate officer High Command decided to assign to this ancestor-forsaken hole in the ground.”

Zareth fell into a thoughtful silence after thanking Grunlok for sharing what he knew. Nuriel and Amareal were the Gods of Restoration and Degradation respectively, but he strangely couldn’t sense any exceptionally strong devotion from the residents. That conflicted with all the reports he’d read from High Command about Jabal-Alma, who were supposed to be quite loyal to the Conclave.

Zareth made a mental note to suggest that High Command include attachees with [Devotion Perception] whenever they send people to survey new settlements.

It was in his interest to learn as much as he could and fix whatever problem Jabal-Alma was dealing with in a way that hopefully got him on their good side. Not only did he need their help in finding the Nephalan ruins and discovering the source of the magical mirage disrupting the region, but his life would be much easier if the people already living in his future territory actually liked him.

The sergeant’s suggestion that he speak to the local military overseer was a good one, as they had almost certainly learned more since the last time they sent back a report. In fact, it was surprising to him that the overseer hadn’t already sought him out as soon as he had entered Jabal-Alma.

Just as Zareth was about to ask Rizok if he had any idea why that may be the case, he was interrupted by the arrival of an exhausted, gray-haired ogre woman carrying an armful of crystals.

“Hello, I assume that you must be the [Crystal Speaker]?” Zareth greeted the woman, smiling politely as she walked toward Skaara and began placing crystals around her bed. His smile grew strained after the woman responded with only a tired grunt, but he decided to continue nonetheless. “Do you think that you’ll be able to heal our guide? I don’t mean to question your abilities, but the poison has proven resistant to our best attempts at removing it.”

The elderly ogre let out an aggrieved sigh and looked up at him with clear annoyance but still took a moment to respond.

“These are the best quality healing crystals in Jabal-Alma, left behind by Lord Nuriel’s highest-level [Priestess] before you outsiders chased them off to Anket. Your lizardkin friend will be fine. We don’t have many of these crystals left and would be better off using them on our own people, so I hope that you appreciate our generosity.”

Everyone in his retinue bristled at the woman’s disrespectful tone, and Vidhatri looked as if she was ready to turn back into a murderous flesh abomination right then and there, but Zareth’s attention was elsewhere.

Specifically, he was trying to figure out why the ogre had just blatantly lied to his face.

While he could sense the kind of Divine Essence that he would come to expect with crystals filled with a God of Restoration’s power, it came with the same kind of inexplicable wrongness that he could perceive in the local Etherveil. That alone wouldn’t normally be enough to convince Zareth that she was lying, but his third eye’s visual acuity revealed a subtle tension and shiftiness in her that practically screamed deception.

Interesting. Just what are these people hiding? Zareth mused as the woman grew increasingly uncomfortable under his gaze. It’s best that I learn more before confronting them, or I risk them just playing dumb and refusing to answer.

“Of course, we’re very grateful for any assistance that you can provide,” Zareth said respectfully, keeping his suspicions well hidden and maintaining a cordial facade. “We understand how much this war has affected everyone in the region and intend to do our best to help ease the burden in whatever ways we can.”

The [Crystal Speaker] seemed suspicious at his agreeable attitude for a moment, but the subtle tension in her expression eased, and she nodded stoically.

“Good. I hope you keep that attitude when you meet with our leaders. There are some men outside ready to lead you to Chieftain Murog and the other Elders. I hear they’re having a big argument with the representatives sent by your military, so it’d be best not to keep them waiting.”

“If it’s all the same to you, I’d like to stay a moment and watch the process. It would be a burden off my shoulders to know that Skaara will be okay,” said Zareth, only partially truthful. While verifying Skaara’s recovery would be nice, his genuine motivation was to see if he could discern anything about the true nature of the crystals.

He saw out of the corner of his eye as Rizok glanced at him with clear suspicion but paid it little mind.

Despite her reluctance, the [Crystal Speaker] didn’t have any reasonable excuse to deny him and finally gave a curt nod. “Very well, but don’t interrupt me, or I’ll call for someone to show you out.”

After Zareth and his retinue acknowledged her warning, she turned her attention back to Skaara and finally began her healing ritual. The [Crystal Speaker] closed her eyes and started to chant softly in a language that Zareth didn’t recognize, her hands hovering over the crystals as they began to glow with a soft, pulsating light. The light flowed from the crystals and into Skaara, enveloping her in a shimmering aura that was both beautiful and, to Zareth’s attuned senses, oddly disconcerting.

At first, it carried the same nearly overpowering potency he associated with Divine Essence, but the energy gradually began to shift as soon as it left the crystals. It only took a few moments of concentrated observation for Zareth to confirm that the [Crystal Speaker] had indeed lied and that Skaara was not being healed by Divine Essence.

Rather, the crystals seemed to contain healing-attributed Ether that was being concealed by some kind of magical obfuscation. He had likely noticed only because [Eye of Cerebon] specialized in seeing through illusions.

The only question was why?

Anyone aware of how much of Tal’Qamar’s economy depended upon the harvesting of Sunstones knew exactly how valuable objects capable of storing Ether were. Jabal-Alma could be one of the richest cities in the region if his assessment was correct and these crystals behaved the same way as Sunstones.

Zareth felt a surge of excitement and greed rise within him before he forcefully suppressed it.

The fact that the locals had gone to such lengths to conceal the true nature of these crystals meant that there was a good reason why they weren’t selling them and becoming filthy rich. Perhaps they were simply too worried about attracting attention too dangerous for them to handle, but they shouldn’t have found it difficult to find a sponsor willing to provide security in exchange for a share of the profits.

Even the Conclave, as corrupt as they may have been while ruling Tal’Qamar, had allowed the Desharin to keep most of the gold they earned from harvesting Sunstones. They understood the benefits of stability and not ruining a profitable arrangement.

I wonder how they managed to hide this from the Conclave and their gods, Zareth wondered, impressed at the ingenuity and daring of the residents of Jabal-Alma. I’ll have to tread carefully. This situation could become dangerous if handled incorrectly, given how badly outnumbered we are and how isolated this place is by the mirage…

Zareth continued to consider the situation until Skaara began to show signs of recovery, her shallow breaths becoming deep and even. After both he and Vidhatri verified that the poison within her body was being neutralized, he couldn’t help but let out a sigh of relief. The [Crystal Speaker] was quick to inform him that it would take a few weeks before Skaara would fully recover, but the immediate danger had passed.

“That was a nasty magical poison, most likely made by a high-level [Poisoner] or a specialized [Alchemist]. It flares up in response to healing magic and will need careful handling. Whoever ambushed you really wanted your friend dead, and she would be if you hadn’t made it here in time.”

The result was bittersweet. It was good that Skaara would survive, of course, but the ambushers had succeeded in trapping him in Jabal-Alma until such a time that she made a full recovery or until High Command sent someone else capable of navigating through the mirage. Given how influential the Great Houses were, he had no doubt that there would be plenty of “accidents” and “complications” which delayed their arrival.

For that and for the two soldiers who had given their lives to protect him, Zareth silently swore to himself that House Khysar would pay a price for their actions.

Once he finished asking the [Crystal Speaker] a few more questions about Skaara’s treatment, Zareth began making his way out of the hospital with the intention of meeting Jabal-Alma’s leaders. Just as he had been told, there was a pair of guards waiting for them with impatient expressions. He was told that his retinue would be brought to the same lodgings assigned to the other representatives sent by High Command. Zareth had no issue with this, but he requested that Vidhatri and Rizok stay with him. The guards only agreed after a short argument.

The three of them were then escorted through the streets of Jabal-Alma until they reached the other side of the cenote and the most densely populated area of the settlement. They were treated to curious glances by the local ogres, but the guards kept them moving briskly through the throng until they arrived at a large, carved-out chamber similar to the hospital entrance. He’d expected at first that one of the large wooden buildings surrounding the settlement’s water supply would serve as their center of power, but it became clear why they chose the underground chamber as soon as they stepped inside.

The architecture of Jabal-Alma distinctly reminded Zareth of the underground city he had seen while traveling through the mirage during his trip to the city. The ogres had managed to carve a surprisingly sophisticated system of tunnels and chambers that allowed them to greatly expand the space they could utilize for their settlement. That being said, it was nowhere near as advanced as the ancient, sprawling underground city he had glimpsed through the mirage.

However, the chamber that they had just stepped into was still quite impressive. It was more expansive than the already large hospital area and had several statues of heroic-looking ogres adorned around the chamber. There were many people walking through tunnels and passageways, each moving with a sense of urgency, and even staircases leading to upper levels that hinted at a complexity to the settlement that Zareth hadn’t really anticipated.

Though, perhaps that expectation wasn’t fair given the existence of [Geomancers] and [Masons].

It was quite the sight, ruined only by the sound of angry shouting emanating from deeper into the chamber. The residents of Jabal-Alma were seemingly unconcerned with keeping their leader’s meeting confidential because there were no privacy wards or skills of any kind in place. It wasn’t long before Zareth’s enhanced senses managed to pick out words as the guards led them toward the source of the commotion.

“More than a dozen of my soldiers are missing to those cursed tunnels! Sent to aid this tiny little village, yet you still have the audacity to refuse to repay the Southern Legion in kind. Do you truly fear us so little, or is it that you value your own lives so poorly?”

“What you are asking for cannot be given, outsider! Not while Lord Amareal’s curse still afflicts our people. If you cannot understand that, then it is you who seeks an early grave!”

“Blatant lies! Do you take me for a fool?!”

Zareth shared a concerned glance with Rizok as the argument continued to escalate, voices overlapping while accusations flew and tempers flared. Thankfully, it momentarily paused when they finally stepped into the large, domed chamber furnished simply with a long table, several chairs, and a few decorative banners hanging from the ceiling with symbols that he didn’t recognize.

The short reprieve gave him an opportunity to take in the room and study the people who sounded as if they were seconds away from tearing out each other’s throats.

Sitting at the very end of the table, Chieftain Murog looked exactly like Zareth had imagined he would, large and muscular even for an ogre with a presence that dominated the room. He wore a set of dark leather attire that seemed both practical and designed to show off the many scars and tattoos on his pale skin. The unique features that separated the ogres of Jabal-Alma from those in Tal’Qamar seemed even more pronounced in the chieftain, with skin so pale that it was nearly translucent and eyes that glowed dimly with Ether.

In fact, that seemed to be the case with the other ogres sitting to his side. This implied that the higher-ranking members of the Jabal-Alma’s society had better access to whatever kind of magic that shaped their community.

Zareth wondered how that worked, but now wasn’t the time to dwell on those thoughts. Turning his attention to the other side of the long table, Zareth was somewhat surprised to see that the representative sent by High Command was a grizzled, middle-aged human man rather than a naga. His crimson cloak had a golden trim that marked him as an officer of Tal’Qamar’s military, and he stood with an air of authority.

Both the officer and the aides at his side wore expressions of frustration and anger, though an intriguing glimmer of relief flashed through the human officer’s eyes when he noticed Zareth and his party entering the chamber.

“I’d ask who you are, but I doubt that there are many three-eyed humans traveling alongside Master Sergeant Rizok in the middle of nowhere,” the officer said, his tone wry as he nodded respectfully to both Zareth and Rizok while gesturing to a few empty seats. “I apologize for not meeting you when your party arrived, but as you can see, we’ve been… preoccupied. I am Major Idris of the Southern Legion, and it’s good to see that you’ve reached Jabal-Alma safely, Apostle Zareth. Or perhaps you would prefer to be referred to by your prospective title, Lord-Marshal?”

Lord-Marshal?

“Lord-Marshal? This is the one who you claim your superiors intend to give these lands?” Chieftain Murog said before Zareth could understand what was happening, tone surprised as the ogre turned to study him with an incredulous expression. “He looks barely more than a babe, yet you presume him strong enough to lead us? Ridiculous.”

“You should remember why we are able to make such presumptions in the first place, Chieftain,” said Major Idris, his mouth twisting into a sneer as he interrupted Zareth before he could offer a response. “We offer your people protection from the Conclave and have even agreed to exempt you from the same taxes for half a decade, yet you offer lies and excuses when the Southern Legion makes even the most basic of requests. Even if you feel no shame behaving so dishonorably with me, you should be very concerned with offending the Lord-Marshal in the same way. General Nasrith will not tolerate such disrespect to someone who holds his favor.”

“Is that a threat?” Chieftain Murog growled, his expression growing furious.

“I thought that was obvious. Do I need to use smaller words?” said Major Idris as he glared defiantly at the chieftain.

Although Zareth barely even understood what everyone was arguing about, he could tell that the situation was threatening to spiral out of control. He needed to intervene and fix this, but in a way that preferably didn’t ruin his relationship with the Southern Legion or Jabal-Alma before he could even figure out what was going on.

“Rather than judging my capabilities from my appearance or making assumptions on what would and would not offend me, I would prefer if we spoke to each other like adults and leaders,” Zareth said loudly, his voice firm as it cut through the yelling. “I will not stand here and be treated like a tool in an argument that nobody seems interested in explaining to me.”

The chamber was quiet for several moments as everyone in the chamber turned their attention to Zareth, who forced himself to stand straight and unbothered under their scrutiny. He didn’t need [Leadership] to know that this was a crowd that would look down on any kind of perceived weakness.

Eventually, both Chieftain Murog and Major Idris seemed to relent as the tension in the chamber simmered down a notch, even if it was still clearly present.

“Good. We can start with an explanation about the Southern Legion’s business in Jabal-Alma after you explain why you chose to refer to me as Lord-Marshal,” said Zareth as he finally took a seat and turned toward Major Idris. Vidhatri and Rizok went to stand at the edges of the room with the guards. “It was my understanding that fiefdoms would be distributed after the war concluded, and not before.”

He was most upset about that, as he didn’t want his relationship with the locals to be sabotaged before it could begin to develop.

This wasn’t the appropriate place to say it, but it also surprised him that the major used “Lord-Marshal” when the Great Houses were pushing for noble titles similar to that used in Eldami. In a world where culture and titles often affected the classes offered by the System, these kinds of distinctions carried a lot of weight.

It certainly implied a lot about how willing General Nasrith was to act against the Great Houses’ interests and made Zareth worried that there was trouble brewing in the background.

“As there have yet to be any other claimants in this area, I felt it appropriate to address you with the respect your prospective position warrants and to inform these people that they should do the same,” Major Idris said unapologetically. “Regarding the Southern Legion’s interests in Jabal-Alma, it’s quite simple. Our front against Anket is proving more difficult to hold than expected, and this settlement needs to be used as a staging area for reinforcements and supplies, which the chieftain is refusing to allow.”

It was obvious to everyone listening that the man had just wanted to use the threat of Zareth’s future authority to strengthen his negotiating position, but that remained unsaid.

Chieftain Murog looked as if he wanted to start yelling again, so Zareth interjected before that could happen. He didn’t want the conversation to get pulled back off track.

“I was told that the Southern Legion’s defensive position was near unassailable. What went wrong?” Zareth said as he glanced toward Rizok, who looked just as taken aback as he felt. “Also, what were you talking about when you said your soldiers were disappearing into tunnels and you referenced Amareal?”

“It was unassailable until those damned worshipers of Suhail caused the desert sun to turn our position into a fucking inferno,” Major Idris growled, his frustration directed at someone other than the ogres for the first time since the discussion began. “The Southern Legion is the best defensive force on Valandor, and we’ll hold off anyone on the battlefield, but even we can’t last without water! Jabal-Alma’s cenote is the best source of water in the region, and we need to set up a supply chain if we don’t want Anket to push the lines back to Tal’Hadin! As for your other questions, you’re better off hearing the ogres explain that themselves.”

If the situation near Anket was truly as dire as Major Idris implied, then Zareth could forgive some of his actions to convince Jabal-Alma to fall in line. He had no doubt that the Southern Legion would have simply conquered the settlement outright if not for the mirage and potential manpower issues on the frontlines.

Zareth resolved to pay particularly close attention to the chieftain and his advisors as he prompted them to give their explanation for their objections. He was already aware of one thing that Jabal-Alma was attempting to hide from outsiders, and he didn’t want anything else to slip his notice.

“Our people relied deeply on the churches of Lord Nuriel and Lord Amareal before your war forced the Conclave’s servants to flee to Anket,” Chieftain Murog began, not-so-subtly laying the blame for Jabal-Alma’s current situation at their feet. “The God of Restoration blessed us by seeding the vast underground caverns connected to Jabal-Alma with his healing crystals, from which we absorb and feed off their divine power. However, it was only with the aid of the God of Degradation that we were actually able to safely navigate through the many dangers within.”

Zareth couldn’t help but feel impressed by the chieftain’s fabricated story and how it stood up to scrutiny at first glance. [Devotion Perception] revealed that he and advisors seemed as faithful to the twin gods as their story would imply, and he had no doubt that one of Major Idris’s aides had a variant of [Detect Truth] active throughout the explanation.

“What about the curse? And how does this relate to the Southern Legion’s request?” asked Zareth, keeping his suspicions hidden.

“I’m told that you brought one of your own to be treated, which means that you have already seen the many sickly ogres in our place of healing,” said Chieftain Murog, a flash of what looked like genuine grief flashing through his eyes. “This is Lord Amareal’s punishment for our treachery and can only be cured with Lord Nuriel’s crystals. I’ve had no choice but to prohibit the Southern Legion from Jabal-Alma lest they fall victim to the curse while sending brave warriors out into the tunnels in search of a source of crystals large enough to rectify this situation. This unfortunate reality upsets Major Idris.”

“I’ve said time and time again that the Southern Legion is willing to take that risk,” Major Idris immediately responded, hands balled into fists at his side. “We’re already at war with the Conclave. Why would we fear what their gods could potentially do when we’re being roasted alive in the desert? You’re clearly just making excuses to support your gods!”

“I see. I assume that these tunnels are filled with all kinds of life-threatening dangers, and you attempted to send soldiers to directly resolve this situation by finding these crystals?” Zareth asked, struggling to keep his expression neutral.

“Aye. Twelve veteran combatants and the only high-level [Scout] that the Southern Legion could afford to spare to guide them,” said Major Idris, before going on to explain the kinds of dangers that could be expected in the tunnels.

Unusually powerful creatures, strange magical anomalies, and a lack of any rigorous maps of the tunnels. But the greatest danger seemed to be the pervasive magical darkness of unknown origin that made it nearly impossible to navigate the ever-twisting tunnels without getting lost.

Amareal’s [Priests] apparently used their god’s power to “degrade” the darkness enough for people to travel the tunnels, according to Chieftain Murog. Everything else could be dealt with by a powerful and well-prepared group, but nobody had found any other means of seeing through the darkness.

“It’s a shame that so many brave warriors were lost to the depths,” said Chieftain Murog, his face the picture of a regretful leader solemnly remembering the fallen. After a moment, he turned to Zareth with a considering expression. “But perhaps you may succeed in their stead. I’ve been told that your retinue is quite capable, and there are many in Jabal-Alma who would be endlessly grateful for your assistance. It may even be enough to convince them that you’ll govern these lands better than the Conclave.”

Zareth felt a flash of intense anger that he only barely prevented from showing on his face. Not only at the chieftain for his attempted manipulation, but also at himself because he had no doubt that he would have fallen for it if he didn’t already know healing crystals had nothing to do with Nuriel.

He could easily imagine himself being presented with an opportunity to ingratiate himself to his future subjects and agreeing without further thought. Especially when that fed the narrative of a relatively small settlement suffering under the thumb of the Conclave’s gods, which would naturally make it child’s play to recruit here once he returned as their savior.

But that wasn’t what was being offered to him.

Instead, Chieftain Murog had already directed thirteen soldiers to their deaths with false stories for unknown reasons and was attempting to do the same to him. Oh, he had no doubt that parts of the story were true and the locals might have a good reason for their deception, but that didn’t change the fact that Chieftain Murog was responsible for the deaths of everyone they sent into danger under false pretenses.

And he likely would have successfully done the same to Zareth and his retinue if not for [Eye of Cerebon] and its ability to see through illusions.

Any inclination of cooperating and earning the respect of Jabal-Alma was immediately discarded from his mind as Zareth’s thoughts raced to find the best path forward. He still couldn’t afford to directly call out the chieftain on his lies, not without knowing the full extent of Jabal-Alma’s secrets and the potential repercussions of such an accusation. However, he couldn’t simply accept the situation as presented either.

It was only when his thoughts drifted to how he discovered Jabal-Alma’s deception in the first place that a plan began to form in his mind.

“Unfortunately, I’m no Adventurer. It wouldn’t feel right forcing my retinue to protect someone as weak as me while dragging them into danger,” said Zareth, refusing the chieftain’s suggestion as diplomatically as possible before turning to Major Idris. “You said that the magical darkness is the primary obstacle in navigating the tunnels and finding the crystals that Jabal-Alma requires, correct? If I had a means of allowing a person to see through this darkness, then how much would that help the situation?”

“Considerably. This matter is important enough that the Southern Legion would redirect significant resources and manpower to support such an endeavor if proved feasible,” said Major Idris, both he and his aides perking up as their expressions grew hopeful. “Is this something that you’re able to provide, Apostle Zareth?”

“I can’t say for certain until I’ve actually tried, but almost certainly,” Zareth said confidently, a small smile growing on his face as his plans began to seem more realistic. “[Eye of Cerebon] was awarded to me by my god. If Amareal’s [Priests] could affect it, then I sincerely doubt that the magical darkness is strong enough to withstand its penetrative gaze. Not only that, but I can share it with other people…”

Zareth went on to explain how [Eye of Cerebon] functioned to everyone gathered, though he naturally kept a few… important details to himself. It was fortunate that he had already thoroughly tested the skill by implanting the eye into a few willing members of the cult. Otherwise, he would have had no idea that it could do more than serve as a makeshift camera and actually allow those who possessed it to share the same level of perception he enjoyed.

The longer he talked, the more Major Idris and his aides seemed to grow excited, while Chieftain Murog and the other ogres began showing subtle signs of unease. Even if he couldn’t see their every microexpression and was not already aware of their deceit, Zareth would have noticed their discomfort.

Major Idris seemed disgusted for a moment when Zareth offered to give him an [Eye of Cerebon] of his own as a demonstration, but the officer’s practicality soon overcame his revulsion. One wet plop and a few uncomfortable moments of grafting Zareth’s freshly removed third eye into the major’s forehead later, and the atmosphere in the chamber shifted dramatically.

Major Idris’s initial discomfort was quickly replaced by a look of sheer astonishment as he adjusted to the new perception granted by the eye.

“This… this is remarkable,” Major Idris muttered, all three of his eyes scanning the room in a way that suggested he was seeing it in a completely new light. “I can see the Ether flow, the smallest features along the walls, and quick movements easily enough that it feels as if I just drank an Agility Potion! The Southern Legion will definitely agree to send a new round of personnel into the tunnels with this kind of advantage. Although we will demand that Jabal-Alma commit to allowing us access to their cenote so long as we solve their little crystal problem.”

Zareth was more than satisfied with that arrangement. He had no doubt that he would be able to learn more about Jabal-Alma’s secrets once the Southern Legion ventured into the tunnels.

Something dark flashed through the chieftain’s expression so quickly that Zareth almost thought he imagined it before the ogre traded a few meaningful glances with his advisors.

“That… won’t be necessary. So long as your [Eye of Cerebon] works as you claim, our own warriors will be sufficient to secure the tunnels and find what we need,” said Chieftain Murog, his voice calm but unyielding as he offered Major Idris a conciliatory expression. “You’ve already lost several of your soldiers while attempting to help my people, and it would dishonor us to see any more lives lost on our behalf. Let our warriors shoulder this burden.”

Major Idris’s expression grew suspicious, but Zareth struggled not to grin like a predator scenting prey. Not only was the chieftain’s refusal extraordinarily telling, a clear sign that there was indeed something in those tunnels that these people desperately wanted to keep hidden, but they had just given him the perfect means to figure out what it was.

“That’s a very generous offer, Chieftain Murog, and I see no reason why we shouldn’t accept given the several weeks it would no doubt take for the Southern Legion to mobilize another expedition and transfer them to Jabal-Alma,” said Zareth, his voice as smooth and grateful as he could manage. “It would make perfect sense to send your warriors in there during that time and hopefully resolve the situation swiftly. I can’t say just how much it pleases me to know that you and the rest of your people are so committed to cooperating with us, despite the difficult circumstances.”

Zareth was worried for a moment that he had laid it on a bit too thick when he saw a flash of doubt and unease cross Chieftain Murog’s face. However, the chieftain quickly masked his reaction and nodded curtly in agreement.

Major Idris didn’t seem entirely enthused by the arrangement, but he didn’t have any reason to complain, and the promise of the Southern Legion being allowed to resolve the situation if the ogre warriors failed quelled any protests.

The next hour of discussion was far less tense than it had been when Zareth first entered the chamber, aside from a subtle undercurrent of apprehension amongst the ogres. Vidhatri and Rizok both sent him suspicious glances every once in a while, but Zareth merely gestured for them to drop the matter until they were private.

The talks revolved around matters such as logistics, resource allocation, and establishing a realistic timeline for the expedition, but he barely gave those things any attention. After all, most of his focus was on holding back his laughter at the fact that Chieftain Murog unknowingly agreed to have his most trusted warriors be implanted with what were effectively cameras that only Zareth could access.

If he had any doubts before that he would sniff out all of Jabal-Alma’s secrets, he now had none.

Chapter 10

Vidhatri very much disliked Jabal-Alma and could not wait until they could leave this loathsome hole in the ground.

She’d already been here for several days, which was far too long for her tastes.

Not because its residents seemed duplicitous and vaguely murderous, though that didn’t help, but because these insane ogres decided to build their settlement underground! Vidhatri hadn’t been making an idle comment when she had said that the only people who lived beneath the earth were dwarves and lunatics.

When Zareth told her that Jabal-Alma was built around a cenote, she had reluctantly tolerated the idea, imagining an open-air oasis that was only a few steps away from the light of the sun. But instead of a village where the earth’s embrace was a mere gentle touch, she found a smothering hold that threatened to suffocate her. Every moment that she spent here evoked fractured memories from a past that she would rather forget, years spent being moved from cage to cage far beneath the cold, dark earth and far from the reach of the rest of the world.

Vidhatri often thanked the Weaver that she hadn’t obtained [Perfect Recall] until long after her god’s faithful rescued and took her in when she was little more than a half-starved, feral little creature. She had sworn then that she would repay Cerebon in any way she could, dedicating her life to becoming the perfect instrument of his will. This was the only reason why she had willingly followed Cerebon’s chosen servant to this abysmal settlement, despite every fiber of her being recoiling at the notion.

Vidhatri had tried her best to rid herself of these… shameful feelings that were so unworthy of a Senior Fleshwarper trained within one of the most war-torn regions of Zumair. She had seen and done things that would leave most people paralyzed with horror, yet the mere presence of the earthen walls around her made it difficult to keep her composure.

Still, she must be doing better at maintaining her composure than she suspected, because nobody was paying her any attention as she watched Zareth speak with the leaders of these strange ogres. Despite Rizok’s fears, nobody had managed to discover Zareth’s deception regarding the full capabilities of [Eye of Cerebon].

Zareth’s thirty-five Willpower could only support seven of the eyes, though that isn’t what he’d reported to the chieftain. One was in his golem, one remained with him, and another was kept as a spare. That meant that the remaining four were grafted into several of Chieftain Murog’s most loyal warriors.

Ever since then, Murog had been meeting Zareth ostensibly so that they could discuss the human’s future claim over this territory and come to some manner of understanding, but the darker undertones were not lost on Vidhatri.

It wasn’t even worth devoting [Parallel Minds] to keep track of the conversation as far as she was concerned.

The chieftain, who looked the part of a warrior but behaved like a snake, agitated Vidhatri even more than she already was and made it nearly impossible to pay any attention to what was being said. Instead, she had to focus on suppressing the rising agitation that writhed like a wild beast beneath her flesh.

Vivid images of herself tearing apart these deceitful vermin before escaping this dark, oppressive prison passed through her mind. Gore and viscera painted her thoughts, and she found her violent ideas more appealing by the moment.

Why bother with these tedious deceptions when violence could solve the matter so much more quickly? Vidhatri doubted that these ogres could keep their secrets while being unmade by her expert hands. Zareth wouldn’t approve, but she was sure he would forgive her so long as the results were favorable…

It would only take a single moment. The chieftain exuded the presence of someone around level forty, but a surprise attack would allow her to eviscerate him before anyone could react…

Vidhatri could feel her flesh shifting in response to her thoughts, no longer just a metaphorical sensation but a literal readiness to end this banal charade and cover these walls with thei⁠—

“Is there something wrong?”

Vidhatri snapped back to reality, her thoughts of bloodshed and violence dismissed by the feeling of Rizok’s scaly hand on her shoulder. Turning to face him, Vidhatri saw that Rizok was studying the surrounding ogres with a tense expression, and she couldn’t help but let out a startled laugh.

It was clear that Rizok had noticed her murderous contemplation and mistakenly assumed that she’d noticed an impending threat from the ogres. His protective instincts were strangely endearing, if misplaced, given that she was the most likely source of danger in the room. It surprised Vidhatri at times how such a competent and experienced soldier looked at her and saw a comrade rather than an unstable threat.

Though she supposed it made sense, given how she had acted since arriving in Tal’Qamar.

You spend a few months without sacrificing any innocents, and suddenly people start treating you like you’re a [Justice Seeker], Vidhatri mused darkly, her lips curling into a sardonic smile. Too much of my time has been dedicated to helping Zareth decipher the tome of Meldorath and helping with whatever problem comes our way. I suppose it makes sense for them not to be afraid.

“There’s nothing wrong, Rizok. I’m merely a bit more tense than I should be,” Vidhatri said placatingly, holding faith that her companion had shielded their conversation from eavesdroppers. “It shouldn’t be a surprise. These people are hardly trustworthy.”

Vidhatri expected that explanation to suffice, but Rizok examined her with a gaze that provoked an… uneasy sensation within her that she didn’t fully understand.

“Are you certain that is all? You’ve been on edge from the moment that we entered Jabal-Alma,” said Rizok, his voice disgustingly gentle. “And I know it isn’t because of these ogres. I’ve been a soldier long enough to know the difference between someone threatened by enemy combatants and someone distressed for entirely different reasons.”

Vidhatri tensed and was prepared to brush Rizok off with a venomous remark until she noticed his expression and saw nothing but genuine concern.

She didn’t know what it was, but something about Rizok made her reluctant to dismiss him as she would other heathens. Perhaps it was the respect she felt toward him as a warrior and the strange kindness he still possessed despite his extensive experience of this harsh world. Or maybe it was simply the well-mannered way he’d behaved ever since they’d fallen into bed together as transient as Vidhatri expected these kinds of relationships to be with her chosen path.

Regardless of what it was, Rizok was a difficult man to resist at times. But that didn’t mean that Vidhatri was about to bare her soul to a bed partner she’d only known for a scant few months.

“I’m grateful for your concern, but I merely allowed myself to get lost in my thoughts,” Vidhatri said before turning her attention back to the ongoing discussion. “I presume that I haven’t missed anything of actual importance while I was distracted.”

As expected, Rizok allowed her to change the subject without pressing further.

“You haven’t. It’s all just the same nonsense that the chieftain has been saying for the past few days,” said Rizok. It was only because she knew him that Vidhatri was able to see the veiled animosity in his expression as he looked toward their gracious hosts. “He’s just giving excuses to explain why the warriors Jabal-Alma sent into the tunnels are going to take so long to ‘find a suitable source of crystals.’ Those excuses may even have been believable if Zareth hadn’t already discovered their treachery and if we didn’t know those warriors are just resting in a provisioned cavern.”

Vidhatri nodded in understanding as she recalled Zareth’s reaction when his plan came to a dead end faster than expected. Rather than unwittingly leading them directly to Jabal-Alma’s secrets, the ogres grafted with [Eye of Cerebon] had only pretended to search for a short while before promptly returning to their little hideaway.

Zareth had not been pleased.

Vidhatri could tell even now that Zareth was seething beneath that genial facade of his, though the human did an admirable job of hiding it. She wouldn’t have expected a human male of his age to be so adept at controlling his emotions, but he may have acquired a suitable skill due to his leadership position given how little she knew about his class.

“Hmph. I don’t like this. What could these fools be thinking that they expect delaying the inevitable will work in their favor?” Vidhatri muttered, not bothering to hide her glare toward the ogre Chieftain. There were benefits to her generally abrasive personality, including being able to scowl at whoever she pleased. “Are they not afraid that your military will use their deceit as an excuse to gleefully slaughter everyone who resists them and install a proper administration?”

Vidhatri could tell that Rizok didn’t approve of her ascribing such ruthlessness to his military, but she didn’t take it back. This continent was more stable and less harsh than her own—likely because the Baleful Five had such little divine influence here that the natives barely even gave much thought to their existence.

Despite this, violence was a universal language spoken by the most powerless [Slave] to the strongest [Archmage].

“Who knows? Perhaps they believe Tal’Qamar will lose this war or simply don’t expect to get caught,” Rizok said, shrugging with a resigned air. “To their credit, they wouldn’t have if High Command had sent anyone other than Zareth here. [Eye of Cerebon] is truly a uniquely useful skill in its specific area of expertise.”

Vidhatri couldn’t help but agree and muttered a quick prayer of gratitude to the Weaver for his foresight in guiding them on this path. She had full faith that everything was moving according to his design and that her presence in this distasteful place served a greater purpose.

Her agitation felt slightly lighter and less burdensome with that reminder.

The tiresome discussion between Zareth and Chieftain Murog lasted for longer than Vidhatri would have liked, which was naturally any amount of time at all. Fortunately, it finally ended eventually, and their group began walking to their lodgings.

All the while, the residents of Jabal-Alma subtly reminded her why this place was so unwelcoming beyond its suffocating underground setting. Whispers and glances from the shadows followed them at every moment, containing a bit too much suspicion and malice to be ignored.

Such looks were to be expected from a recently conquered people, as had been seen in Tal’Hadin, but there was something uniquely uncanny about these ogres. The worst came from those who wore that strange, winged emblem that interested Zareth. He had focused on trying to determine the origins of the emblems during his research and conversations with the ogres living in this underground hole but quickly stopped when confronted with abnormal hostility.

There was an unknown quality about their expressions that felt familiar to Vidhatri, though she couldn’t quite place what it was. This unfriendly atmosphere persisted until the three of them arrived at the lodgings provided to Zareth and his retinue. It wasn’t a particularly opulent accommodation by any stretch of the imagination, seeming more like a barracks that Jabal-Alma had carved into its walls for their warriors. Still, it was the best that they could expect from such a small settlement and was better than the alternative.

Chieftain Murog had attempted to isolate Zareth in his own dwellings, claiming that his status as an “honored guest” meant that he should stay in one of the relatively more luxurious buildings close to the settlement’s water source. Zareth was thankfully not some spoiled [Noble], wisely turning down the chieftain’s offer and staying in the same lodging provided to his retinue and the soldiers from the Southern Legion.

Upon arriving at their accommodations, Zareth, Rizok, and Vidhatri made their way through those same soldiers to the only room that offered a semblance of privacy within the communal living space. It was a stark, unadorned chamber, carved directly into the rock, furnished with only a few pieces of crude furniture to indicate its purpose as a dwelling. Despite its rudimentary conditions, the recessed chamber was a good enough haven from the prying eyes and ears of Jabal-Alma.

Once Rizok activated his [Aura of Silence] and Zareth finished looking over the room with [Eye of Cerebon] to verify that no magical surveillance had been placed while they were away, the three of them finally relaxed…

“Damn it! That infuriating bastard!”

At least for a few moments before Zareth slammed his hand against the wall in frustration. Vidhatri raised an eyebrow in surprise, as the generally mild-mannered human must have been thoroughly angered to lose control of his emotions.

“I feel like I’m a pretty patient person, but if I have to stand there and listen to Murog blatantly spew nonsense to my face when I know he’s lying, then I’m going to lose my mind,” Zareth vented, letting out a huff as he sat on the edge of a roughly hewn bed and rubbed his temples. “This can’t be allowed to go on. I can’t tell if they’re planning something, but it’s a bad idea to just allow them to drag this on without taking decisive action.”

“If Jabal-Alma’s warriors take too long to accomplish their purported mission, then is it not justification enough to involve your military’s Southern Legion?” asked Vidhatri, uncertain as to why the human was not taking a more straightforward approach. “You have powerful enough connections and a way to contact your superiors through your golem. Simply explain that you need soldiers sent to pacify this pathetic little hovel and have this troublesome affair dealt with.”

Truly, this kind of tedious intrigue seemed wholly unnecessary when there was such a great power disparity between the two parties. Vidhatri felt a hint of annoyance as the boy rolled his eyes at her suggestion before responding.

“If I could have done that already, then I would have,” said Zareth as he rubbed his temples. “Major Idris has made it clear that High Command won’t be redirecting any manpower from the Southern Legion until they’re convinced that they have no other choice. Suhail’s [Priests] have made their defensive position too tenuous to do anything else.”

“We do have the option of waiting a few weeks before attempting to pressure High Command for aid,” Rizok suggested, though he didn’t seem particularly enthused about that option. “A long enough period without any results would work in our favor to convince them that sending reinforcements is a necessity. They do need access to Jabal-Alma’s water supply if they wish to hold off against Anket, at least according to Major Idris and the other soldiers who I’ve spoken to. The Conclave are devoting far more effort to breaking through their position than expected.”

Vidhatri had underestimated just how respected Rizok was amongst his fellow soldiers, considering that his status as a non-officer would transfer into a lack of influence elsewhere. Rizok was apparently reasonably well-known among Tal’Qamar’s army for his competence and combat ability, as was to be expected of any heathen Vidhatri chose to favor.

This meant that the soldiers were quite willing to tell Rizok whatever he wished to know. Unfortunately, the situation with the Southern Legion seemed just as severe as they had been told.

“Chieftain Murog is aware of this, so he must have some kind of plan beyond stalling,” Zareth admitted, his brow furrowed in thought. “Besides… I just have a really bad feeling about sitting back and waiting.”

That was enough to convince Vidhatri as far as she was concerned. Zareth had been chosen by the Weaver for a reason, and any instinctive unease he harbored could be attributed to her god’s guiding hand.

“Are the warriors sent into the caverns still just lazing about where you last checked?” Rizok asked, his tone that of an experienced soldier considering the best way to handle a hostile threat. “It’s unfortunate that more hasn’t been learned from them, but there must be some hint of operable information that we can gather from what you’ve seen in order to plan out our next move.”

Zareth confirmed that Jabal-Alma’s warriors were indeed still idling in the same location before considering Rizok’s second point with a thoughtful expression. “Well… I have noticed them sending out someone to patrol a particular crossroads of tunnels every so often, but there’s nothing of note there as far as I can tell…”

That was strange and not as helpful as Vidhatri would have liked, but it was likely the best lead that they were going to get.

“If they are patrolling that crossroads, then it doubtlessly leads somewhere that these ogres do not wish us or anyone else to find,” Vidhatri stated with more confidence than she felt. Her deduction was by no means conclusive given how little information they had, but she was tired of all this pointless waffling. “We must send someone into those tunnels to discover the truth of what is being hidden from us. I am the best candidate for this role, so I’ll take it upon myself to explore these tunnels discreetly.”

Neither Rizok nor Zareth seemed particularly enthusiastic about the risk involved in that kind of action, but they couldn’t deny that it was the most straightforward means of achieving their objective. Although, they did share a momentary glance with each other that communicated some kind of unspoken understanding that Vidhatri was not privy to.

“Perhaps it would be better if Rizok was the one to explore the tunnels. You are… not what I would call subtle, Vidhatri,” Zareth said after a moment of awkward silence before glancing uncertainly to the lizardkin. “And he probably has more experience in this sort of thing, right?”

“Most of my missions are more along the lines of cutting apart anyone who gets in my way,” Rizok admitted with a grimace. “I’ve only led a few stealth operations, and none of them by myself so deep in enemy territory without substantial logistical support…”

“Then it is settled,” Vidhatri declared firmly, confident that her abilities were best suited to this task. Even if the very thought of willingly walking into the dark caverns of Jabal-Alma made her want to claw at her own writhing flesh, she would not allow such weakness to compromise their mission. “The only reason that you consider me ‘unsubtle’ is because I have never had reason to show restraint since arriving in Tal’Qamar. The Dehkshetra temple thoroughly educates Cerebon’s chosen on the best way to hide themselves from the foolish heathens who may wish to harm us.”

Rather than explaining herself any further, Vidhatri decided to demonstrate by activating [Greater Template Body] and [Deceptive Performance].

Not only did [Greater Template Body] grant her access to more pre-designed sets of augmentations than its lesser version, but it also allowed Vidhatri to shapeshift swiftly and perfectly into a new form simply by imagining it. Meanwhile, [Deceptive Performance] was one of the skills that Zareth might have acquired if he had chosen the prerequisite [Deceptive Presence]. The skill allowed her to completely change her body language while subtly controlling how others perceived her.

Combined with her robes, which were in fact made from a carefully shaped variety of living flesh designed to look as similar to fabric as possible, Vidhatri had instantly changed herself in every possible respect.

Where before stood a tall and imperious female shivarath wearing the same plain robes that she’d worn since arriving in Tal’Qamar, there was now a young and unassuming male ogre that could be swapped with any of the local warriors. Her robes had become a set of leather armor similar in fashion to what they seemed to wear, and her features were nearly identical to the pale and homogenous ogres.

Vidhatri took a moment to extract a suitably long piece of bone from her body before fashioning it into a spear similar to those wielded by the ogres who had guided them into the city, replicating their strange glow with a layer of translucent and bioluminescent flesh.

Once she was satisfied with her disguise, Vidhatri turned to her companions and offered them an amiable smile unlike any she would bestow under normal circumstances.

“Greetings, outsiders! My name is Durgok, and I’m a warrior of Jabal-Alma who was sent by the chieftain to attend to you while you’re in our village,” Vidhatri said with excitable nervousness, maintaining the image of a young and inexperienced boy out of his depth. “Is there, uh, anything that I can help you with?”

Zareth and Rizok’s reactions were enough to heal her bruised ego at having her skills doubted, the two of them both wearing astonished expressions. Rizok’s in particular almost made her laugh and compromise her disguise, especially when he reeled back after seeing a muscular male ogre quickly glance at him and blush like a flustered maiden.

That would teach him to underestimate her.

It took a few moments for the two of them to gather their wits, but they eventually managed to compose themselves and offer their surprised approval.

“That’s… I didn’t know that you were able to do something like this,” Zareth admitted with clear shock as he studied her new form. “This doesn’t seem like something that I would expect from a [Fleshwarper].”

Vidhatri permitted [Deceptive Performance] to carry her expression into one of eager helpfulness. “That’s something that a lot of people misunderstand. [Fleshwarper] is evolved from [Cultist], which has many skills devoted to deceiving and hiding from people. You should consider acquiring a few of them when you get the chance.”

“Please stop that,” Rizok choked out, his expression one of extreme discomfort. “I think you’ve thoroughly demonstrated your point, Vidhatri. Just stop that before you give me nightmares.”

Vidhatri kept [Deceptive Presence] activated for a few more moments just to enjoy the look on Rizok’s face before allowing her body language to return to something more natural. Rizok let out a deep sigh of relief and relaxed, though he still seemed somewhat unnerved by her transformation.

“Well? Have I sufficiently demonstrated my expertise in this arena?” Vidhatri asked smugly, a single eyebrow raised as she looked down at her companions from an even greater height than usual. “Not only will I have little issue navigating my way through the settlement and accessing the caverns, but I’m skilled enough in combat to handle any of the unknown threats that may be waiting in those dark tunnels.”

Zareth and Rizok both still seemed to be a bit reluctant, but neither of them could really argue against her logic.

“Are you certain that you wish to go through with this, Vidhatri?” Rizok asked with clear concern in his eyes. “While your disguise is impressive, the risks are still substantial.”

No, I don’t, Vidhatri thought as she imagined herself navigating through dark, constricting tunnels with no allies by her side.

“I’ve said as much, haven’t I?” Vidhatri responded with a touch of impatience, pushing aside the flash of guilt she felt when Rizok flinched slightly at her tone. “You both know that this is the best course of action.”

There were a few more moments of frustrating hesitation before Zareth finally nodded.

“Very well. Then I suppose it’s decided,” Zareth said before taking a deep breath and continuing. “That being the case, you’re going to need a way to maintain communication. It’s a good thing that I decided to visit the Enchanter’s Guild before leaving Tal’Qamar an⁠—”

“Wait. There’s one last thing that we have yet to discuss,” Vidhatri interrupted firmly before Zareth could continue, drawing confused expressions from her companions. “I need to be informed of any information related to this place that may be relevant to my mission.”

That drew even more confusion from the both of them, but Vidhatri steeled herself and continued on regardless. What she was about to say risked a confrontation that she would have liked to avoid if not for the current circumstances.

“I know that the two of you are hiding something about this place from both myself and your superiors,” Vidhatri stated with surety that only grew stronger as she witnessed their momentary shock before they schooled their features.

“What makes you think that we’re keeping something from you?” asked Rizok, doing an admirable job of keeping his expression neutral for someone who was usually so straightforward. Zareth remained silent, looking between the both of them as he watched the situation unfold.

“I doubt anyone who hasn’t spent so much time by your side would have noticed, but it’s fairly obvious from my perspective,” Vidhatri began, hoping to reassure them that their secrets were still safe. “You both often make excuses to speak to each other without my presence, which I assumed was because your High Command forbade you from sharing certain matters. However, you both grow suspicious whenever the topic of what Jabal-Alma may be hiding arises. Yet, you’ve had limited contact with Major Idris despite this. It is wise to treat me with caution, but my loyalty belongs only to the Weaver and his interests.”

Vidhatri generally cared very little about potential secrets and political machinations so long as they didn’t meaningfully impact her. She sincerely doubted that the transient lives of heathens and their squabbles would significantly affect Cerebon’s divine plans, but this was another matter entirely.

Her directive was to aid Zareth on whatever he needed until the Flesh Father or the Weaver himself instructed her otherwise, which was difficult to do when information was being withheld from her.

Vidhatri waited patiently while Zareth and Rizok seemed to weigh their options, exchanging a glance that conveyed a silent conversation before the human finally spoke.

“It’s your choice, Rizok. This isn’t my decision to make.”

Vidhatri was surprised for a moment before she turned her attention to the lizardkin, who seemed to be studying her in turn with a solemn expression.

Just as Vidhatri was beginning to worry that Rizok was going to deny her the trust she needed to fulfill her role effectively, he surprised her again by turning back to Zareth and nodding decisively.

“Vidhatri is right. I don’t like telling too many people about the Tessik, but she has no stake in Tal’Qamar’s internal politics and deserves better than to be sent on a mission with less than everything we can tell her.”

Zareth and Rizok launched into a long and satisfying conversation that finally brought her into their confidence about the things that they’d been keeping from her since her arrival in Tal’Qamar.

It was… honestly a bit less dramatic than she’d anticipated.

While the Tessik had a noble goal in preserving their people’s culture in Tal’Qamar, she’d seen far greater atrocities in her life than a mere loss of heritage. It seemed like a relatively minor concern to expend so much effort toward, but Vidhatri recognized that her feelings on the matter didn’t change that Zareth’s involvement with the Tessik carried significant risks and benefits.

Being further educated on Tal’Qamar’s internal politics was interesting, but not immediately relevant to the task ahead.

More importantly, Vidhatri was informed that the ruins of some local ancient empire were likely located in the area and almost certainly related in some way to whatever was going on with Jabal-Alma. After all, it would have been too large of a coincidence if the local conspiracy didn’t involve these mysterious ruins.

None of these revelations changed much about how she intended to proceed, aside from the supposed specialization that the ancient empire in question had toward illusion magic.

That reminded Vidhatri to insist that Zareth grant her an [Eye of Cerebon], as she didn’t have any reliable means of seeing through any potential illusions that she came across. Not to mention the magical darkness of the caverns, which Vidhatri might not be able to pierce through with her own abilities.

This came with an added advantage of allowing Zareth to visually monitor the progress of her mission. Combined with the telepathic ring, which had apparently been provided by the Tessik rather than the Enchanter’s Guild, their communication would be quite rigorous.

Despite how confidently she had asserted her demands, a part of Vidhatri hadn’t expected that they would actually confide in her, especially when Zareth directed the decision to Rizok. Even if she and Rizok had shared several moments of intimacy, she knew better than to assume that this had earned her any degree of trust in matters of true importance.

There were some men foolish enough to allow comforts of the flesh to dictate their actions, but Rizok was too experienced and disciplined to make such an error.

She would have hardly respected him as much as she did if it were otherwise.

Not only that, but Vidhatri was perfectly aware of how her personality was perceived by most. Even among her fellow faithful, she was… abnormally zealous in her devotion to the Weaver and steadfast in her desire to serve him. The opinions of others seemed wholly irrelevant in the face of this duty, and she very rarely made the effort of behaving contrary to her nature to oblige the feelings of others.

She’d grown… accustomed to the relative isolation that her chosen path in life had thrust upon her, but the trust that she was being shown now was hardly unwelcome.

Vidhatri studied Rizok for several moments as the soldier did his best to provide helpful advice for her upcoming mission, a strange feeling rising within her that she ruthlessly stamped out before she could identify it. Vidhatri silently swore to herself that she would prove worthy of the faith that she’d been entrusted with and wouldn’t allow anything to prevent her from succeeding in her task.

Not Jabal-Alma’s ogres, not her useless fears, or any other unseen variables that got in her way.

“Yes, yes, I will be careful. I fully understand how important it is that nobody discovers my actions,” Vidhatri said dismissively, not nearly as annoyed by Rizok’s fussing as she should be. “I think we’ve delayed this long enough with our chatter. It’s time for me to leave, lest we stay up so long that the chieftain calls Zareth for another round of useless discussions.”

Once they finished verifying that she had everything she needed, Vidhatri slipped Zareth’s telepathic ring onto her finger and replaced one of her natural eyes with his [Eye of Cerebon]. The change in perspective took a moment to get used to, given that its visual acuity and ability to see the ever-present ripples of the Etherveil were beyond even her own augmented sensory abilities.

As was to be expected from an organ gifted by her god.

Nevertheless, Vidhatri was herself an expert [Fleshwarper] and knew how to quickly adapt to new forms and senses.

“Good luck, Vidhatri. I’ll contact you once you reach the caverns so that I can lead you toward the patrolled crossroads,” said Zareth, reiterating the plans that they’d already discussed as he began to grow an ordinary eye to place in the empty socket on his forehead. “Hopefully you’ll notice something that I’ve missed once you’re there.”

“Understood,” Vidhatri responded before she glanced toward Rizok. “If there’s nothing else, then I think it’s time that you go distract your fellow soldiers.”

Rizok nodded and promptly made his way out of the room, just as they had previously discussed. Vidhatri waited several minutes before shifting back to her natural form and following in his wake, knowing that Tal’Qamar’s soldiers would have questions if they spotted an unfamiliar pale ogre leaving Zareth’s room.

Once she reached the communal area of their lodgings, Vidhatri spotted Rizok in the center of a group of soldiers, drawing the attention of everyone by recounting some manner of war story that they’d been previously badgering him about. A few glanced Vidhatri’s way but quickly turned their attention elsewhere with clear discomfort once they saw it was her. They had been wary around her ever since her admittedly gruesome display during the recent ambush.

That made it rather easy for her to make her way to the barrack’s exit unnoticed and slip back into the form of Durgok the Ogre moments before stepping outside into the overly bright streets of Jabal-Alma.

How do these people ever sleep with these damned crystals shining down all the time? Vidhatri mused to herself with annoyance as she began her journey toward the other side of the cenote where the cavern entrance was located. Though, I suppose I shouldn’t expect a group of ogres insane enough to live underground to concern themselves with normal behavior.

While her ogre disguise was quite convincing, Jabal-Alma was a small enough settlement that Vidhatri didn’t dare linger for too long in any one area, lest someone realize that nobody recognized her. Durgok the Crazy Underground Ogre smiled at his fellow lunatics whenever he passed them by but didn’t allow himself to be engaged in any extended conversations.

Vidhatri attracted as little attention as possible and subtly avoided any local [Guards] who could potentially possess a skill that would see through her disguise.

Given how paranoid the people seemed to be about their secrets, she wouldn’t put it past them to have invested in a few individuals skilled in detection. Fortunately, her newly acquired [Eye of Cerebon] allowed her to spot any patrolling [Guards] long before they did her and gave her time to navigate around them with ease. There was only a single occasion when this was not possible, and she was confronted by a female, spear-carrying ogre who seemed suspicious of Durgok.

However, the [Guard] must have had a reasonably low Willpower because [Deceptive Performance] caused her to shift from suspicious to uninterested in only a few moments.

Nothing else of note happened until Vidhatri drew close to the entrance of the caverns, where Jabal-Alma had stationed many more [Guards] for the ostensible purpose of keeping civilians from being lost within the tunnels. The caverns admittedly did appear fairly dangerous, with an unnatural darkness seeping out of their entrances that failed to be illuminated by the bright crystals surrounding Jabal-Alma.

However, a half-dozen [Guards], assigned specifically to prevent access to a place even the local children would know not to go, seemed unnecessary.

Vidhatri took a moment to scan the entrance with [Eye of Cerebon] for any potentially hidden security measures before making her way to a secluded spot when she found none. The effect of [Deceptive Performance] would be too diluted when used against so many targets, which meant she couldn’t simply talk her way through the barricade.

Casually walking behind one of the giant mushrooms bursting from the wall that could be found throughout Jabal-Alma, Vidhatri made sure nobody was watching her and activated the augmentation she’d borrowed from Zareth’s so-called Mirage Stalkers.

It only took a moment for her to disappear under a blur of make-shift [Invisibility]. It was a shame that the effect wasn’t thorough enough for Vidhatri to have trusted it to bring her through Jabal-Alma, as the brightness of the settlement made the blur somewhat stand out. However, it should hopefully be effective enough for Vidhatri to traverse the open space between her and her targets and deploy her planned distraction once she was close enough.

Vidhatri pushed herself against the cenote’s stone walls and approached her target at a deliberately constant pace, knowing that sudden movements would make the blur around much more noticeable.

The ogres stationed to protect the caverns were far more alert than any of the [Guards] patrolling Jabal-Alma, but Vidhatri doubted any of them were actually expecting an intruder. This allowed her to get close enough that she could even hear snippets of their conversations before she ducked behind a stone outcropping and began the next stage of her plan.

They were too well positioned for her to sneak past, and they were close enough to the rest of Jabal-Alma that alarm would be raised in mere moments if the [Guards] were killed or incapacitated. This meant Vidhatri needed a distraction, which was why she began to emit one of the few gases her body was designed to produce, creating a strong scent.

It didn’t take long before Vidhatri noticed one of the closer [Guards] begin to sniff and quickly turn to her comrades with a disgusted expression.

“By the Bound God, who just shat themselves?! Would it kill you disgusting oafs to step away before assaulting my nose?”

Just as Vidhatri had intended, the [Guards] soon fell into an argument, and their focus was completely diverted from their surroundings. She had never met a group of sapients who failed to be utterly distracted by a particularly foul smell, and these strange ogres were no exception.

Seizing the opportunity, Vidhatri slipped past the group of bickering [Guards], her movements a silent whisper as she entered the pervasive darkness of the cavern. The air inside was cool and damp, while any sight from her one natural eye was thoroughly obstructed by the unyielding blackness. Vidhatri quickly returned to her natural form and activated [Morphogenic Surge] to temporarily enhance all of her bodily functions, but she was still unable to see without the aid of [Eye of Cerebon].

I can’t even taste, smell, or hear as effectively as I should. How irritating, Vidhatri thought as she carefully navigated the cavern’s treacherous terrain. This darkness is almost certainly some kind of defensive measure designed to deter intruders. I wouldn’t be surprised if Jabal-Alma has their own secret way of dealing with it.

Now that she had her bearings and wasn’t at risk of being distracted, Vidhatri decided to verify that the telepathic ring was functioning as intended.

“Zareth, can you hear me?” Vidhatri transmitted her thoughts after focusing on the ring.

“Loud and clear. Good job getting past those [Guards],” Zareth responded, his voice echoing in her mind. “Even if your means of doing so was… a bit more unconventional and less violent than I anticipated.”

Vidhatri snorted in amusement. “While I do enjoy my fair share of slaughter, I would hope that my talents are versatile. There’s a reason that the Flesh Father chose me of all his disciples to send to your side.”

The pause before Zareth eventually responded was definitely longer than she thought necessary.

“Anyway… just continue down this cavern and take a right once you see a large stalagmite that looks like a twisted hand. Jabal-Alma seems to have cleared away any dangerous creature that may have once lived here, so you have nothing to worry about until you get close to the warriors deeper within.”

Vidhatri acknowledged Zareth’s words before turning her focus back to her surroundings, scanning each and every corner for threats. Even if these caverns were supposed to be safe, she hadn’t survived as long as she had by being careless or taking unnecessary risks.

However, as time went on and she wasn’t suddenly attacked by some manner of ravenous monster leaping at her from the darkness, she began to wish that something would break the monotony of her advance. That, at least, would make it easier for her to ignore the creeping dread of the darkness closing around her and the increasingly prominent pounding of her hearts.

Vidhatri forced herself to focus on her task, quietly muttering prayers to Cerebon for strength and guidance as she maneuvered through the tunnels. It was fortunate that the darkness seemed to be the main obstacle within the tunnels and that they weren’t overly complex. Otherwise, there was no way that Zareth would have been able to memorize the path taken by ogres grafted with [Eye of Cerebon] given that he lacked [Perfect Recall].

Vidhatri was unsure how long she spent walking and pointedly not thinking about her surroundings before Zareth’s telepathic messages suddenly took on a trace of urgency.

“Wait! Don’t turn that corner!”

Vidhatri came to an abrupt stop and lowered herself to the ground before frantically surveilling her surroundings. How she wished she still had access to her vast array of sensory organs and wasn’t limited to a single eye!

“Be careful; the ogres on patrol seem to be changing shifts. You should be all right to slowly peek around the corner, but remember that [Eye of Cerebon] will pick up even small movements if they start to turn around.”

After she finished listening to Zareth’s warning, Vidhatri activated her Mirage Stalker augmentation and slowly edged closer to the tunnel that she had been approaching. Sure enough, Vidhatri immediately spotted a male ogre emerging from a nearby passageway that she hadn’t noticed.

Vidhatri waited for him to move further ahead before cautiously following behind until he met with one of his comrades who was stationed at a narrow choke point and engaged with them in conversation.

Neither of them seemed especially alert, which wasn’t surprising given how unlikely it was for an intruder to get this far and gave her a decent advantage. Vidhatri did have the option of simply killing them both given how secluded this location was and how many people supposedly disappeared in these tunnels. Even if Chieftain Murog suspected foul play, he would have no valid excuse to accuse them of anything.

It would still be best to avoid that if possible.

“Given that I still can’t hear anything and those ogres are speaking to each other without issue, I think my theory that Jabal-Alma has a method of counteracting this darkness is correct,” Vidhatri telepathically conveyed to Zareth as she studied the ogres ahead. “That makes this conspiracy of theirs much more dangerous for us. This kind of permanent magical obstruction, strong enough to suppress even my senses, should be far beyond such a small settlement’s capabilities.”

“If you’re right, then I would say that the situation is pretty dire,” Zareth responded with rising concern. “I’d assume that they may have discovered some kind of artifact within the Nephalan ruins that allowed them to do something like this, but something about that explanation doesn’t sit right with me…”

For the first time since she entered Jabal-Alma, Vidhatri felt a surge of tension rise within her that wasn’t related to her surroundings. Time passed excruciatingly slowly as she watched the ogres from her hiding spot in the darkness until they finally finished speaking to each other and one of them began to leave.

Unfortunately, that still meant that there was an ogre in a small choke point between Vidhatri and her destination.

“The crossroads of tunnels that I mentioned is beyond that point,” Zareth unnecessarily confirmed. “It’d be better if you could avoid killing them, but we’ve already concluded before that it’s worth the risk if you can’t find an alternative, so I’ll leave the decision with you.”

Vidhatri considered the matter for several moments before judging that she didn’t have any means of bypassing the ogre without first incapacitating him. That being the case, Vidhatri tensed her muscles in preparation for what she was about to do as she waited for the ogre to look away from the tunnel she would be attacking from.

Even the most vigilant of sentries had times when they let their guard down, so it didn’t take long before Vidhatri’s target let out a yawn and moved to sit along the cavern wall. The very moment that the ogre began to look down, Vidhatri reactivated [Morphogenic Surge] and sprinted forward in the swiftest burst of speed that her enhanced body could handle.

The ogre had obviously heard something and was beginning to look upward, but Vidhatri had closed the distance within the time it took for the sound to both reach him and register in his brain.

[Greater Template Body]. [Forced Fleshwarping].

Unlike the more commonly used [Permanent Flesh Manipulation], the skill that Vidhatri employed against her victim was a derived version that was more effective against an unwilling target. Not only that, but she simultaneously used a lesser-known facet of [Greater Template Body] that allowed it to be applied to people other than the user themselves.

The ogre could have potentially resisted the skills’ effect if his Vitality or Spirit was either greater or even close to Vidhatri’s own Spirit, but that was obviously not the case.

The ogre’s body began to involuntarily twist and morph into the template that Vidhatri had been imagining the moment she activated her skills. His vocal cords were pulled apart first, preventing him from screaming as his bones disintegrated and every part of his body unnecessary to sustaining the minimal degree of continued existence was done away with.

The entire gruesome process took only a few seconds, until with a stomach-turning squelch, Vidhatri was left with nothing but a small ball of flesh only slightly larger than her target’s brain.

She knew that measurement to be accurate because her [Forced Fleshwarping] had disposed of everything aside from what was needed to preserve the ogre’s only important organ.

“There we go. I managed to keep him alive,” Vidhatri reported with satisfaction as she picked up the flesh-ball and took a moment to examine her work. “I even did so without allowing him to see me. The parts of his brain responsible for forming short-term memories have been distributed, so there’s little chance that he’ll be able to share anything detrimental after he’s restored.”

That skill combination was one that Vidhatri was particularly proud of and had taken a lot of effort to perfect. The brains of the sapient races across the world were strangely similar, but they held enough difference that manipulating them without causing permanent damage was a delicate and precise art. The carefully shaped network of cardiac muscles woven into the flesh-ball and the miniature respiratory system that she had personally engineered was also a testament to her worth as a Senior Fleshwarper.

Vidhatri waited patiently for Zareth to express his amazement as a fellow scholar of the flesh but began to grow confused when he sounded a bit less enthusiastic than expected.

“T-That was quite the sight,” Zareth said, a strange tremor in his telepathic communication. “How are you expecting to deal with… what’s left of him? It seems like it would be inconvenient to carry around a… ball of meat everywhere.”

Vidhatri responded by using her abilities to compress the ogre as much as possible and begin assimilating it into her own body. She’d already ensured that there was enough room between the empty spaces of her organs to accommodate a spare brain, so there was little difficulty in finding a suitable spot for him.

“Now that the patrol has been dealt with, let’s hope that I can find something that will reveal the proper path forward,” Vidhatri said as she casually removed her currently useless natural eye and replaced it with the spare [Eye of Cerebon] left behind by the ogre. “It’d be quite unfortunate to have gone through all of this trouble for nothing.”

Zareth didn’t respond to her comment, presumably out of a polite desire to let Vidhatri study her surroundings for clues without interruption, which she appreciated. However, the human’s politeness was unnecessary, as it only took a single moment for [Eye of Cerebon] to deduce that one of the paths was frequently traveled. Not to mention the subtle distortions in the Etherveil, which seemed to be emanating from that particular direction.

Following this path with the caution of a seasoned predator, Vidhatri moved silently and more vigilantly than ever. They hadn’t planned for the scenario that there would be anyone else past this point, and the footsteps and disturbed rocks on the ground suggested that wasn’t the case. It would be potentially catastrophic if Vidhatri was spotted and her presence was revealed at this juncture, but she had ventured far too deep to turn back now.

As she traveled down the tunnel, Vidhatri began to notice her senses returning to her and the smothering magical darkness gradually dissipating. It wasn’t long after her hearing came back to her that Vidhatri picked up the unmistakable sounds of voices echoing up ahead. The Etherveil also became much… livelier than it was back in Jabal-Alma or even anywhere else, according to Zareth.

She was no [Mage] or [Scholar] and had no idea what that might imply, but Vidhatri sincerely doubted that it was anything good.

When she eventually saw a bright light that implied she was approaching her final destination, Vidhatri slowed her pace and once again activated her stealth augmentations. Keeping to the shadows as much as possible to ensure she didn’t suddenly run into any wandering ogres, Vidhatri peeked around the corner with the hopes that she would finally get her eyes on what Jabal-Alma seemed so intent on hiding.

What she saw was… possibly just as dramatic as the most elaborate theories their group had concocted.

It was safe to say that Jabal-Alma was indeed aware of the ancient ruins that Rizok’s people sought to find and exploit for their own purposes. Vidhatri could see many ogres walking through the decayed remnants of a sprawling underground city constructed in a massive cavern, perhaps even as many as lived in Jabal-Alma proper. A large portion of them seemed to be engaged in some kind of excavation, moving through the ruins with clear purpose and a high degree of organization.

Even stranger, portions of the ancient city had been cleared away to make room for modern installations that looked out of place amidst the ancient architecture. These included a large number of those strange crystals that Chieftain Murog had claimed his people were lacking, mounted atop metallic stands. They illuminated much of the cavern, revealing extensive archaeological digs and possibly even active mining operations.

It was an impressive sight and suggested that an organization far more powerful than Jabal-Alma was involved in this place.

“How could the Conclave have possibly missed this?” Zareth’s telepathic voice was filled with awe and disbelief, and Vidhatri slowly took in the scene before her. “They had control over this territory for centuries. Even if Jabal-Alma is small enough to escape close scrutiny, they must have sent people here occas⁠—”

Zareth’s voice trailed off as Vidhatri’s gaze landed on a sight that halted both of their thoughts entirely while also answering his question…

It was surprising that it had taken her so long to spot the massive floating crystal on the right side of the cavern, tethered to the ground by thick chains made from an unknown luminescent material. Around the central crystal, a network of conduits branched off like the roots of an ancient tree into an array of carefully spaced pedestals, upon each of which was the magical apparatus’s likely power source.

As a person who was familiar with sacrificing people for the purposes of conducting magical rituals, Vidhatri wasn’t quite as horrified with what she was seeing as most likely would be. Still, she at least had the common courtesy to kill her victims as quickly as such rituals allowed.

Somehow, she sincerely doubted that it was wholly necessary for the people impaled onto those pedestals to be conscious and remain in clear agony. Their bodies were desiccated in a way that could not be natural, while the surrounding Etherveil seemed to pour into them like some kind of voracious maw. Vidhatri wondered where that energy could be going until [Eye of Cerebon] allowed her to see the tiny crystals emerging from the flesh of the impaled victims.

Several grim-faced ogres wearing dark robes were harvesting the crystals with meticulous care, their hands moving with a precision that spoke of ample practice. Vidhatri recognized several of the sacrifices as matching the descriptions of the Southern Legion’s missing soldiers, while another even wore white robes denoting them as a [Priestess] of Suhail.

“What the fuck…”

What the fuck, indeed, Vidhatri couldn’t help but agree.

This wasn’t quite the kind of conspiracy that she’d been expecting to find when she ventured into those tunnels. It was almost as if she had been suddenly transported back home, and she immediately wondered if a Valandor native like Zareth might have a better idea of which dark cult they’d just stumbled upon.

“Do you have any idea who could be responsible for this? It looks like something that I would expect from the Carnkex, but there aren’t any of them on this continent as far as I know.”

“I don’t exactly have an encyclopedic knowledge of every group of lunatics running around the place,” Zareth immediately responded, his tone filled with indignation. “It vaguely reminds me of something I read in the tome of Meldorath bu—wait, can you turn your gaze to the ceiling for me?”

Vidhatri did so, noticing what had drawn Zareth’s attention. Above the crystal was what appeared to be a glowing magical emblem of a square, cracked down the middle with a chain encircling it.

“The… Cult of the Unfettered One? What are those System-hating terrorists doing all the way down here?”

Vidhatri hummed thoughtfully and turned her attention back to her immediate surroundings. Once she was certain that it was safe to do so, she stepped through the mouth of the tunnel and into the cavern. She had no idea what was going on here, but it was clear that their group had inadvertently wandered into a nest of vipers.

It was imperative that they get to the bottom of this if they wanted to escape that nest with their lives.

Chapter 11

Zareth couldn’t stop himself from pacing back and forth as he thought over the implications of what Vidhatri had found.

This situation was much bigger and much worse than he had initially imagined. Not only were there many more hostiles than anticipated, but they were also associated with the actual Cult of the Unfettered One! Those crazy bastards were the reason that people on this continent tended to associate [Cultist] with a strange hatred of the System and were considered one of the most hated radical organizations in Eldamir.

They weren’t quite as reviled in the Qahtani Desert, as they were much less active in the region… or at least as far as anyone knew. What they were doing in some random hole in the ground far away from any major cities, Zareth could only guess at. However, the innocent people being tortured for some kind of unknown magical ritual made him sincerely doubt that the Cult of the Unfettered One was a bunch of misunderstood [Scholars].

If Vidhatri’s subterfuge was discovered, then it was very likely that she, Zareth, and every other outsider would end up impaled in an isolated cavern next…

That was definitely something that he would like to avoid.

“There’s little chance that we can seize Jabal-Alma’s military with our available combatants,” Rizok said solemnly, having immediately begun to strategize as soon as he was informed of what they were up against. “We’re simply too severely outnumbered and lack proper intelligence of our enemy’s capabilities. Our only advantage is that they’re unaware of our knowledge of their operations. We must leverage that if we are to survive.”

Zareth felt some of his panic ease at his friend’s calm analysis. It was very reassuring that he was traveling with a group of veteran soldiers who knew better than he did how to handle themselves in dire situations.

That reminded him of an important little detail…

“Rizok, is there any chance at all that I can avoid telling Major Idris about this?” Zareth asked, his tone reluctant.

It was a remarkable show of how well Rizok had gotten to know him that he immediately understood what was concerning him.

“Keeping the true abilities of your skills a secret is generally a good idea, but I think we’re far past that point already,” Rizok said bluntly, though he did offer Zareth an apologetic expression. “It’s unfortunate, but I don’t think we have many other options. For something so serious, it’s doubtful that Major Idris would accept anything less than a detailed and complete explanation.”

Zareth cursed under his breath. [Eye of Cerebon] was his rarest skill by far and had much more utility when nobody knew how it worked. Given how thoroughly the Great Houses had infiltrated Tal’Qamar’s military, sharing this kind of information with them was tantamount to revealing his capabilities to everyone in the city.

I’ll need to find a way to prevent that from happening… but that’s a problem for later, Zareth thought to himself as he made his decision.

“Fine. I suppose we have little choice in the matter,” Zareth instructed with a resigned tone. “But that should wait until we’ve gathered as much information as we can. It’d be a waste of time if we just went to him with only speculation.”

“That seems wise,” said Rizok, placing a comforting hand on Zareth’s shoulder in an attempt to calm him down. “Don’t worry. This isn’t my first time deep behind enemy lines. I’m sure we’ll be able to come up with a strategy to see us through this.”

Zareth offered his friend a grateful nod before turning his attention back to Vidhatri and her progress through the evil cultist-infested ruins. Fortunately, it seemed like the enemy was fairly lax in security so far, which made sense given how unlikely it would be for anyone to bypass their prior defenses. So long as Vidhatri didn’t do something completely foolish, chances were good that she would remain undiscovered.

“See if you can learn anything more about that ritual they’re conducting,” Zareth telepathically instructed Vidhatri as he watched her delve deeper into the ruins. “I doubt it’s time-sensitive given how long people have been going missing around this region, but we need to be certain of it. Also, keep a lookout for any particularly strange movements in the Etherveil.”

Zareth was almost certain by now that these cultists were responsible for the abnormal magical mirage. Since its members refuted the System and presumably didn’t have access to it, all of their abilities would therefore need to come from either the Etherveil or be sourced by the so-called Unfettered One, who they had named their group after.

He’d never heard of any deity going by that title, so the former was far more likely in Zareth’s opinion. That being the case, they would have access to a type of magic that most [Mages] would find bizarre and difficult to deal with, like the magical mirage. The fact that the people who went missing made for perfect sacrificial material was just another piece of the puzzle falling too well into place.

“Understood. You said that you saw something within the tome of Meldorath resembling their ritual, correct?” Vidahtri responded, her tone strangely casual despite the danger she was in. “I recommend that you also search for more details.”

That was a good point, and one that Zareth had forgotten in his panic. Unfortunately, it probably wasn’t something that he could research quickly, even considering the high speed at which [Eye of Cerebon] processed visual information.

He had no idea if the matter was time sensitive or if there was anything that Vidhatri needed to do while she still had access to the ruins. Someone would eventually discover that the patrolling warrior Vidhatri had turned into a meatball had either disappeared or was missing a notable portion of his memories. That wouldn’t be enough to implicate Zareth or any of the soldiers, but security would definitely be amplified to a point that they would no longer be able to discreetly investigate their activities.

“That’s not an assumption that we can rely on,” said Rizok, interrupting Zareth while he relayed his conversation with Vidhatri and expressed his thoughts on the matter. “We know nothing about the Cult of the Unfettered One’s motivations, typical operational methods, or the extremes they may go to protect their secrets.”

“Do you really think there’s a chance that Jabal-Alma would take drastic action against us with such little evidence?” Zareth asked skeptically as he searched through his pack for the tome of Meldorath. “That seems like it would be a drastic escalation with potentially catastrophic consequences if High Command was to discover what they had done.”

“We have little reason to trust a group of fanatics to act on a purely rational basis,” Rizok said grimly. “I’ve spoken to enough [Strategists] and experienced enough battles to know that the worst-case scenario is one that must be accounted for.”

Zareth’s mind was quickly flooded with images of what that worst-case scenario may actually look like. Insane ogre cultists discovering their security compromised and, in a panic, dragging them all off to be sacrificed in some dark ritual. He knew that his thoughts were a tad bit paranoid, but Rizok was correct to point out that this series of events wasn’t unlikely enough to be discounted entirely.

Zareth forced these visions of doom away and quickly found the tome of Meldorath before beginning to flip through its pages, his third eye shifting back and forth at a rapid pace.

He and Vidhatri had been consistently working to decipher the tome of Meldorath in their free time, though they had yet to make any major discoveries. The magical safeguards around the tome could only be bypassed with [Eye of Cerebon], which meant that Zareth needed to take time from his fairly busy schedule to sit down and analyze the text. Not only that, but the actual contents were in an unknown language that neither Zareth nor Vidhatri had recognized.

It was only after they copied a small sample of the text and brought it to a [Historian] that they had discovered it to be an ancient dialect that could be traced back to the Pre-System shivarath nation of Rudhirapur. There was very little known about them these days, other than they had been in decline even before the System War and had a tendency for dark magic. This slim connection was all Zareth and Vidhatri needed to begin their research.

Unfortunately, Vidhatri was quite insistent that only servants of Cerebon be allowed to study the tome’s texts. This meant they had to feed small snippets of the tome’s contents to various [Scholars] and [Historians] to minimize the risk of anyone piecing together anything of importance, which made the progress slow and extremely inefficient.

“In hindsight, I probably should have already spent a Skill Point on [Whispers of Lost Tongues] so that I could decipher the tome myself,” Zareth explained to his friend as he searched for the relevant passage. “Cerebon still hasn’t contacted me since our first conversation or expressed any impatience. So, it didn’t seem like a top priority.”

He couldn’t find it in himself to regret his decisions too much, given that most of his skills had proven their value.

“The naga may feel like it’s poor fortune not to spend their Skill Points as quickly as possible, but there are many who believe in the wisdom of saving strategic resources for when they are most needed,” said Rizok, shrugging in response. “You can acquire the skill now if necessary, which is all that truly matters.”

It took several minutes for Zareth to find the portion of the tome that reminded him of the ritual Vidhatri had stumbled upon. Much like the rest of the tome, it was written from the perspective of an unknown figure and detailed their experiences in a past more ancient than any historical records Zareth knew about.

It was almost certain that these figures were related to Meldorath and that the dead Goddess of Flesh may have even contributed to the tome herself, but there was no way to be sure. Beyond the language gap, there was simply too much historical context missing to make any definitive claims.

“Well… I hope [Whispers of Lost Tongues] is as effective as its grandiose name suggests,” Zareth muttered as he read through the small patches of translated text. “This section can probably be dated to the System War and references an ‘evil-mage-knowledge-freedom-slave causing crystalline tumor to grow from the flesh of a young-virtuous-bound-student for harvesting.’ Not exactly the most coherent description, but I think there’s a decent chance of it being related to what we’re dealing with.”

Zareth wasn’t one to believe in coincidences, especially when there were so many subtle signs pointing him in a particular direction.

Rizok was silent as he considered the information for several moments before he responded. “How long do you think it will be before Jabal-Alma realizes that something has happened?”

Zareth briefly turned his attention to the ogre warriors within the caverns and was relieved to see that none of them had yet to check on their ally-turned-meatball. He hadn’t been paying particularly close attention to their patrol times, but he knew that it would be several hours at least before they realized that one of their own was missing.

“That gives a decent window of time before any heightened alertness kicks in,” said Rizok once Zareth finished relaying that information. “By then, Vidhatri will have already needed to have extracted what information she can and gotten herself to safety. It would also be best for us to have already briefed Major Idris so that we can prepare in the event of an aggressive response.”

Zareth’s heart dropped a little at that grim reminder.

He’d come to Jabal-Alma with the hopes of forging positive relations with his future subjects but discovered a situation that wouldn’t end well regardless of what he did. Even if he made it out of here with his skin intact, the Cult of the Unfettered One had likely infiltrated this place so thoroughly that there was little chance of the population becoming favorable to him.

Convincing High Command not to put the entire settlement to the torch was going to be a challenge itself…

Zareth took a breath to compose himself and resolved to focus on what he could control, rather than worrying about the impending clusterfuck that was probably going to come from this situation.

[Whispers of Lost Tongues] has been acquired!

The next few hours were spent dividing his attention between monitoring Vidhatri’s perspective and attempting to glean any useful information from the tome of Meldorath. It didn’t take long for him to realize that the skill was indeed extremely useful, bits and pieces of the ancient text started making sense in a way they hadn’t before.

It was always a bit of a surreal experience to have information randomly flow into his mind from some unseen external source, but Zareth ignored the sensation and focused on the task at hand.

Even if portions of the ancient language had suddenly become legible, the process wasn’t instantaneous, and there was still a significant amount of historical context that [Whispers of Lost Tongues] didn’t help him with.

It took him nearly an entire hour to decipher that “evil-mage-knowledge-freedom-slave” was an enemy faction that the temple of Meldorath fought during the System War. Meanwhile, young-virtuous-bound-student referred to members of a group of the temple’s young apprentices who had been captured by said enemy faction.

Reading the description of what was done to them was… less than pleasant.

Given that the temple of Meldorath fought alongside the Conclave in the System War, it was a bit disheartening to realize that neither side of the conflict seemed all that noble or just in their methods. He really wished that there was a clear good and bad side in the conflict, but that unfortunately didn’t seem to be the case.

According to the tome of Meldorath, the crystals being harvested from the flesh of the captured apprentices served a similar function as Sunstones, in that they were used to store magic. However, while Zareth had only ever heard of Sunstones being used by [Artificers] or [Enchanters] to power their creations, these crystals seemed especially potent at enhancing rituals and spells.

Not only that, but they could be produced in much greater numbers than Sunstones.

Given that these ogres belonged to a particular subgroup of their kind that subsided on magic, a grim picture was beginning to form. Sunstones were extraordinarily expensive, and this place didn’t seem to have any natural wellsprings of magic from which to draw upon. It was very easy to guess what Jabal-Alma gained from this endeavor considering how useful the crystals would be to them.

The only question that Zareth couldn’t find an answer to was what motivations the Cult of the Unfettered One had in this partnership.

“Zareth. I believe you should see this.”

Zareth was pulled from his thoughts by Vidhatri’s telepathic message, and he turned his attention back to her perspective. He was immediately greeted by a sight nearly as shocking as the ritual itself.

Vidhatri had managed to sneak her way deeper into the caverns and caught sight of a long line of cultists gathering these crystals into a large pile. Obviously, this wasn’t what had caught Vidhatri’s attention.

Rather, it was the four robed humans chanting around a mound of crystals and conducting a magical ritual that manipulated the Etherveil with a degree of precision that Zareth could only dream of replicating. The sight of the crystals disappearing in an explosion of displaced air and a flash of bright light as the ritual concluded was enough to leave Vidhatri and Zareth both speechless.

Zareth was no [Mage], but even he knew that teleportation was considered one of the most difficult and rare forms of magic to cast, especially on a scale that involved teleporting objects of significant size or mass. It was possible, but typically only for high-leveled spellcasters or through esoteric skills with stringent requirements.

Veilspire Academy and all of the other magical institutions in Eldamir had long made it their goal to understand this specific type of magic, investing vast amounts of resources into discovering the means to become a [Spatial Mage] or something similar.

If they ever succeeded, then the implications for trade, military strategy, and all manner of logistical operations would be historic. That the Cult of the Unfettered One was capable of this kind of feat without even accessing the System was… deeply concerning to say the least.

It certainly made it clear to Zareth that he’d stumbled into something entirely out of his pay grade.

“This is… far beyond what I expected,” Vidhatri said after regaining her composure, her tone uncharacteristically lacking its usual confidence. “I don’t know if even the [Mahajadugar] of Zumair could easily replicate such a feat. I can’t help but wonder if your superiors are aware that this group has such capabilities.”

“There’s no way to tell. This kind of information is so valuable that anyone with sense would want to monopolize it for themselves,” Zareth responded immediately, his mind racing with the implications of what they’d discovered.

He would definitely need to look more closely into this. Almost every Adventurer’s Guild across Valandor had permanent bounties relating to the Cult of the Unfettered One, but he’d assumed that was simply a result of rich Eldamiri tossing around gold to deal with a dangerous and radical faction.

Perhaps… there may have been other factors contributing to the degree of concern and resources allocated to a group that seemed, until now, to be nothing more than a fringe threat.

Regardless, Zareth’s instincts told him that the power brokers in Tal’Qamar might not be fully aware of this. Whether or not the Great Houses knew was a bit of a toss-up, but High Command would have probably at least designated the cult as a target of interest if they did.

“Get out of there, Vidhatri. I don’t feel comfortable with you being so isolated anymore,” Zareth instructed, fearful that the enemy may have other unknown capabilities that would reveal her intrusion. “I know we still haven’t found the source of the mirage, but it’d be better for you to retreat as soon as possible.”

Vidhatri must have reached a similar conclusion because she immediately began to retreat and make her way out of the cavern. “Understood. I will restore my captive and ensure he is rendered unconscious once I return to the point at which I disabled him.”

Zareth was now very glad that Vidhatri had chosen to turn the ogre into an oversized meatball rather than kill them outright. Chieftain Murog would have likely reacted far worse to a missing patrol than one who would have appeared to have simply fallen asleep on duty.

When Zareth turned his attention back to Rizok and relayed everything that he had learned, his friend tensed and widened his eyes at just how much they may have underestimated their enemy.

“I think it’s time that we brief Major Idris,” Rizok said grimly before making his way to the door.

Zareth put away the tome of Meldorath and prepared himself for the meeting that would determine how they would deal with being surrounded by a bunch of murderous lunatics with unknown abilities and no easy way to escape.

It took Rizok a bit longer to return than expected, most likely because he was attempting to avoid undue attention but eventually returned with Major Idris in tow. The veteran soldier wore a grave expression, so he must have at least picked up on Rizok’s tension.

Major Idris’s expression only grew more solemn the longer Zareth spent explaining the situation. He remained silent for most of it, only asking questions for the purposes of clarification or to probe deeper into how the information was gathered. Something indecipherable flashed through his eyes once Zareth told him about [Eye of Cerebon], but it was quickly masked by a professional demeanor.

Once everything was finally laid out, Major Idris was silent for several moments before he punched the wall by him so hard that his fist was buried several inches into the stone.

“Damn these fucking treacherous vermin!” Major Idris said through gritted teeth, likely only preventing himself from yelling due to the need for secrecy. “I’ll have them dismembered from their bodies one by one and throw them in the desert sands to be scavenged by vultures!”

Zareth waited patiently for Major Idris to calm down, not at all surprised at his reaction. The soldier’s body shook with rage, and his eyes burned with a fervor to carry out his threats, but that fury eventually gave way to something more… mournful.

“I should have trusted my own instincts, instead of believing these savages and sending my people into those gods-forsaken tunnels,” Major Idris said with a downcast expression, before taking a deep breath and turning back to them with unshakable resolve. “Well… this is a fucked-up situation if I’ve ever seen one. I hope you’ve got some sort of plan or trick beneath your kaftan to get us out of here.”

“Not as such, Major,” said Rizok, standing to attention and showing professional focus as the conversation moved on to tactical planning. “I estimate that we would either need at least a company to subdue Jabal-Alma. We could also be extracted with assistance from several third-grade or a single fourth-grade strike team. For some reason, however, I get the feeling that you’re about to tell me why that isn’t going to happen.”

Zareth was only moderately familiar with Tal’Qamar’s military structure, but he was fairly certain that a company was about 150 soldiers, which was a lot considering that the Southern Legion was already having problems holding back Anket. A “third-grade” strike team was a group of twelve specially trained soldiers with an average level of 30, while a fourth-grade would have an average level of 40 and so on following that pattern.

“I didn’t know that you were a [Seer], Master Sergeant,” Major Idris said wryly with a humorless expression. “To be honest, there’s a chance that High Command might decide it’s worth sending a fourth-grade to pull us out of here despite the risk that places on the Southern Legion. After all, General Nasrith personally sent out a directive that protecting members of the Hierophant’s Council is considered to be a high priority. He even named Apostle Zareth and Priestess Farida specifically.”

That was definitely news to Zareth and was more than a little surprising. He’d already seen signs that he’d caught General Nasrith’s attention after his cult assisted in the battle near Fal’Ashar, but to actually be picked out specifically for protection was both useful and vaguely concerning.

“However… what you told me about the enemy’s ability to teleport objects—and potentially even people—changes everything,” Major Idris continued, a thin frown etched onto his face. “High Command will highly value capturing as many of the enemy forces alive as possible for interrogation. That would be very difficult to accomplish with a conventional strike team given the enemy’s ability to instantly escape. Not to mention the possibility that they’d go on the offensive and teleport in reinforcements that we’re not equipped to handle.”

Zareth couldn’t help but scowl, not liking that the safety of him and those that he was responsible for was being weighed against perceived benefits, but the strategic interests involved were indeed significant.

“Then what would you suggest, Major Idris?” Zareth asked curtly, not willing to suggest that there weren’t any solutions to their problems. “I’ve heard a lot about what can’t be done, but I’m a little bit more interested in preventing all of us from being impaled on makeshift pedestals and spending the rest of our lives being farmed for crystals.”

His words were met with a tense silence, as everyone in the room began to understand the gravity of their circumstances and that no easy solution presented a way out of it. Eventually, a hesitant expression settled on Major Idris’s face, and he glanced toward Zareth.

“You stated that you have a method of communicating with Tal’Qamar, correct? It’s… by no means certain, but there’s a chance that your political influence could be leveraged to have High Command send a Critical Asset to Jabal-Alma.”

Critical Asset…?

Zareth glanced questioningly toward Rizok and saw that his friend looked incredibly taken aback. After a moment, Rizok realized that Zareth had no idea what Major Idris was talking about and took it upon himself to explain.

“A Critical Asset is a military term to describe individuals or artifacts powerful enough that their deployment is enough to reshape a battlefield,” Rizok explained, a subtle hint of awe in his voice. “When referring to people, they would be the equivalent of a Legendary Adventurer like Vaelora the Sunblade. Tal’Qamar doesn’t have any Critical Assets capable of defeating a Calamity-grade threat like Idraxan the Mad, but dealing with Jabal-Alma would be trivial for any one of them.”

Zareth had never heard the term “Critical Asset” before, but to be mentioned in the same breath as Legendary Adventurers or Idraxan the Mad already said enough.

“If High Command has access to such powerful resources, then why wasn’t this option considered before?” Zareth asked curiously, glancing between the two soldiers. “This seems like the sort of thing that I would have already heard about.”

“Critical Assets are generally too important to be used against anything but the enemy’s strongest resources in turn,” Major Idris explained as Rizok nodded in agreement. “For example, High Command has one such Critical Asset deployed near Fal’Ashar to protect against potential divine retribution as they siege the city. Redeploying it elsewhere would be a catastrophic blow to the war effort.”

That made sense to Zareth. Fal’Ashar had a strong Conclave presence and many places of worship, which would make it a perfect staging ground for a ritual similar to the one that his cult had performed a few months ago.

Without some means of protecting against that kind of retribution, sieging the city would be exceedingly difficult.

“As for why you’ve never heard about them, information regarding Critical Assets is generally tightly controlled,” Major Idris continued. “There’s only so much that I’m permitted to share with you, and even that is only due to your status.”

Once Major Idris finished his explanation, Zareth took several moments to consider his proposal. If these Critical Assets were indeed as powerful as described, then one of them would be the perfect solution for his current problems.

However… there was probably a good reason why Major Idris had been so reluctant to make the proposal in the first place.

“What exactly do you expect I’ll have to trade in exchange for High Command to deploy something so valuable?” Zareth asked with a sense of deep foreboding.

Major Idris and Rizok were both silent, but it was clear from both of their expressions that the answer wasn’t one that he would like. Finally, Major Idris confirmed his suspicions.

“I’m no expert in politics, Apostle Zareth. But even with the potential benefits of capturing members from the Cult of the Unfettered One, redeploying a Critical Asset is no small matter.”

Zareth… really didn’t want to put either he or his cult into debt with General Nasrith if he could help it, but he wasn’t sure that he had any better option.

Escaping was impossible, as Skaara was still incapacitated due to her poison, and there was little reason to trust that Jabal-Alma would truly heal her as they claimed.

It would be trivially easy for her treatment to simply “fail” given how potent the poison seemed to be, leaving them no real way to navigate the magical mirage.

He could potentially attempt to dig further into Jabal-Alma’s society and hope he discovered some way of dealing with the Cult of the Unfettered One in a more subtle and clever way, but that was simply too risky. The only thing protecting them right now was secrecy, which was a position that could fall apart at any moment with catastrophic consequences.

A part of Zareth was tempted to take that route anyway in hopes that Jabal-Alma could be preserved as much as possible for inclusion in his future domain, but that was a secondary priority.

The safety of too many people depended on Zareth for him to take that kind of gamble.

All he could hope for now was to negotiate the best possible deal with General Nasrith and salvage as many benefits as he could from this train wreck.

Although there may be a way for me to come out ahead if I play my cards right, Zareth thought as he continued to analyze the situation. It’d take a bit of luck and some help from the Tessik, but I am uniquely positioned to gain from this…

Slowly, a plan began to form in Zareth’s mind before he finally made a decision.

Tamir felt a surge of anxiety rise up in him as he approached the former palace while carrying a tiny flesh golem hidden within a leather bag. It seemed like it was only yesterday when Tamir was scrounging the streets of the Sunrise Slums for food, and now he was about to attend a meeting with people more important than even the highest-level [Gang Lord] in the city.

How did I ever end up in this position?

That was the question that Tamir had been pondering over ever since the boss had left him in charge of things after leaving Tal’Qamar.

Tamir had once asked Zareth why he had chosen someone like him to be his second in command instead of someone older and more experienced. The boss gave him a bunch of different reasons that sort of made sense, like there not being many adults who would willingly switch their class to [Cultist] and wanting someone from the slums who wasn’t tied to any other groups.

Tamir knew that the gangs liked to pick up young folk so they could choose their classes and weren’t loyal to anyone, so it made sense to him that the boss would do something similar.

It wasn’t that Tamir wasn’t grateful; he just… really wished that someone else was the one dealing with the utter nonsense that he had to put up with!

Oh, it wasn’t so bad at first. His biggest headache was dealing with complaints that Onara was being a bit too zealous about trying to recruit people to the cult. Sure, he’d had to apologize to a few people on behalf of a woman old enough to be his grandma, but Onara was reasonable enough to change her behavior after a quick chat.

Tamir wished the same could be said for his fellow [Cultists].

Whoever came up with the idea of giving a bunch of teenagers the ability to manipulate flesh was completely out of their mind. The first time Tamir received a complaint from the [Guards] that some low level [Thief] had their nipples elongated into tentacles after they tried to pickpocket the wrong person, he’d gone straight to the boss’ flesh golem and told him what happened.

It was difficult to tell while communicating through a flesh golem, but Tamir was pretty confident that the reason it took Zareth so long to respond was because he was too busy laughing his head off. The boss didn’t care all that much about these kinds of things so long as they weren’t directly causing problems for him or the cult. Zareth even said something about it being a “creative use of their skills” and not wanting to “discourage the kids from having fun in a way that helps them level.”

Not to mention how busy the spire was in general.

Now that the Cult of Cerebon had effectively cured the vast majority of birth defects in Tal’Qamar, they’d started selling aesthetic modifications. He’d always known that this kind of service would be popular, but not so popular that the cult had been forced to up the price several times to reduce the demand. Sure, this service looked like it was going to overshadow their luxury pet selling business and make the cult very rich, but their [Cultists] were going to sleep every day with skill exhaustion!

Ridiculous!

Although… even as Tamir made his way through the streets of Tal’Qamar while grumbling to himself about his responsibilities, he couldn’t help but notice that there were a lot more people who were… enjoyable to look at lately.

So that was nice.

Regardless, Tamir had been hoping every day that the boss would inform him that he was coming back to Tal’Qamar so that he could hand back the reins. Instead, Zareth had contacted him through the flesh golem and informed him that he was stuck in the middle of nowhere surrounded by a bunch of actually evil cultists.

It honestly sounded just like the boss to get himself involved with something like that.

However, this somehow meant that Zareth needed Tamir to discreetly bring his flesh golem to some kind of important meeting with important military folks. The boss didn’t want to risk giving his enemies any more information than necessary, so he couldn’t just fly the flesh golem there, and it’d be pretty troublesome to communicate entirely through the thing’s shoddy writing.

It turned out that creepy flying eyeballs with tiny hands didn’t make for the best [Scribes]. Who would have thought?

Also, Zareth apparently could only see through the thing and not hear anything for some strange reason, which meant Tamir would need to transcribe the conversation for the boss. It was a good thing that he paid attention during those literacy lessons that the boss arranged for him, huh?

Tamir had thus been filled in on the general gist of what was going on and what would be expected of him to negotiate on the Cult of Cerebon’s behalf. Naturally, Zareth would be there to guide him through the flesh golem and ensure that he didn’t say anything stupid or step out of line.

But still! Would it kill the boss to let him have a break? He didn’t sign up for this!

There wasn’t much that Tamir could do about it, though, aside from silently grumble as he arrived at the palace and was examined by military security. Tamir didn’t see the point given that the meeting had been arranged ahead of time, which meant that the security decided to conveniently ignore his extremely conspicuous leather bag, but whatever.

Before long, Tamir was shuffled through a bunch of scary-looking military officers and eventually led into a conservatively furnished meeting room. He’d recently picked up [Magic Detection] as it was one of the skills that the boss suggested he get at some point, so Tamir was able to sense that this was one of the most heavily warded rooms in the building.

It seemed like the military was taking the risk of eavesdroppers much more seriously than the risk Tamir would try and sneak in a knife.

The soldiers who escorted Tamir to the room left shortly afterward, allowing him to finally free the flesh golem from the bag. The creepy flying eye shot out from the bag immediately and began fluttering about in a way that almost seemed indignant.

It was a bit… cute, in an extremely weird sort of way. The boss eventually seemed to notice that the golem had been freed and ordered it to fly down toward a set of quills and parchment that had been laid on the table for the meeting. Tamir watched its awkward movements for a few moments before taking a seat and waiting for said meeting to begin.

When the door finally opened and an armored naga lady slithered into the room, Tamir stood and greeted them in the polite sort of way that the boss had taught him, only to be completely ignored. Instead, he watched in confusion as the naga lady quickly scanned the room with her eyes before placing a strangely shaped metal device that set off his [Magic Perception] in the middle of the table before wordlessly slithering back out of the room.

How rude.

Before Tamir could complain to the boss via flesh golem about how useless his etiquette lessons had been, the metal thing suddenly started glowing, and the shimmering image of a much scarier naga appeared above it!

Tamir had never seen General Nasrith in person before now, but any native of Tal’Qamar would recognize him from his bright crimson scales so similar in color to the cloaks worn by the military. Even the imposing aura and sharp gaze that seemed to pierce through him would have been enough for Tamir to know that he was in front of someone who wasn’t to be messed with.

Tamir hadn’t been this intimidated since he stumbled into Zareth’s laboratory for the first time.

“Cultist Tamir, I presume?” General Nasrith said as he seemed to study for a short moment before glancing toward the flying eyeball next to him with slight distaste. “And Apostle Zareth, attending this meeting via a… priorly approved skill-based proxy.”

Tamir bowed as calmly as he could to the terrifying ruler of his city, who could probably kill him with a flick of his tail, and spoke his rehearsed greeting. “Yes, General Nasrith. I am here to speak for the Cult of Cerebon with permission from our leader, Apostle Zareth, regarding a request for emergency military intervention in the recently conquered settlement of Jabal-Alma.”

There was no way for him to write that down word for word while the conversation was going on, so he just scribbled down the gist of what was said for the flesh golem reading over his shoulder.

General Nasrith was silent for far longer than Tamir was comfortable with, staring at him with slit eyes, before he finally seemed to nod at him in approval.

“Respectful and to the point. You’ll do well if you continue in this manner,” General Nasrith said before turning his attention to the matter at hand. “The situation along the northern front is incredibly active, and I may be called away at any moment, so I will be brief. Apostle Zareth has already shared details of the situation in Jabal-Alma with my subordinates, who prepared a briefing for me this morning. Am I right to understand that the Cult of the Unfettered One truly has access to practical teleportation and that you’re requesting a Critical Asset be redeployed to address this threat?”

Tamir looked toward the flesh golem for support only to see it looking right back at him expectantly, causing him to realize that there wasn’t anything that he actually needed help with.

“Y-Yes, General Nasrith. That’s correct,” Tamir responded, turning back to the scary naga. “We understand that redeploying a Critical Asset is a big deal, bu⁠—”

“A ‘big deal’ is putting it lightly,” General Nasrith interrupted, his tone sharp. “Regulations dictate that such an action is to be done after a meeting of Tal’Qamar’s highest-ranking officers and subsequent approval by two-thirds of its members. The duration required for this process would exceed the operational safety margin of your current situation according to my [Strategists], so you’re effectively requesting that I sign off on an emergency directive to override standard protocol. I am… loath to do so under normal circumstances, and even more so to issue as significant as the redeployment of a Critical Asset.”

This time, Tamir didn’t even try to hide his panic as he turned to the flesh golem by his side and almost collapsed in relief when he saw it scribbling away on a parchment with a quill. Tamir watched impatiently as the boss wrote down a response with his eyeball’s tiny little hands and immediately took the parchment once he finished.

“Uh, Apostle Zareth says that High Command stands to benefit a lot from the Cult of the Unfettered One,” Tamir said as he slowly read the barely legible text. “Capturing their members would allow you to learn a lot about a significant potential threat, and there’s a chance that you could discover their means of teleportation.”

“If replicating their magic was so simple, then Veilspire Academy would have no doubt already accomplished it,” General Nasrith said with a dismissive scoff. “And while their presence in the Qahtani Desert is… concerning, it is something that I feel comfortable addressing after the war is over.”

Shortly after the boss’ flesh golem started scrawling another response, Tamir suddenly realized that General Nasrith hadn’t outright declined Zareth’s request. Once he started reading another reason for why High Command would benefit from sending a Critical Asset to Jabal-Alma, he started to suspect that Zareth and General Nasrith were just… haggling.

His suspicions were confirmed over the next few minutes as Zareth had Tamir talk about all the important ways that he and his cult had helped Tal’Qamar and all the bad things that would happen if he died. General Nasrith went into detail about how much could go wrong if Conclave spies discovered that a Critical Asset was being moved and decided to exploit that vulnerability, emphasizing how big of a favor something like this would be.

It… sorta made Tamir feel like in the middle of the Spicebloom Bazaar listening to a [Merchant] argue with someone about how bruised their fruits were.

Tamir didn’t really know enough about politics to understand which side was making the better argument, but General Nasrith seemed to eventually decide that the haggling was no longer productive and put an end to it.

“Were you aware, Apostle Zareth, that Swarm Lord Kressha of Tal’Hadin is close to signing a formal trade agreement with House Khrysar?” General Nasrith asked, interrupting Tamir as he was reading a list from his boss about all the cool augmentations he was planning to make for the military. “Their agreement would provide the beleaguered city with favorable prices on certain amenities, such as construction materials and high-level [Masons] to rebuild their walls, reagents to recast their damaged enchantments, and beasts of burden to replace those slain in the conquering of their city.”

Given that the flying eyeball next to him wasn’t writing a response, Tamir had the feeling that the boss was just as confused by the change in subject as he was.

“That, uh, sounds nice. It’s good to hear that the folks in Tal’Hadin are getting the support they need,” Tamir said hesitantly once it became clear that he wasn’t going to get any guidance.

“One would think. Yet, each of those amenities is in high demand by this city’s military, and such a trade deal risks negatively affecting our war effort,” General Nasrith responded, his voice taking on a sharper edge. “I am the only Ruler of a significant nation on Valandor who lacks the legal authority to put a stop to such an agreement. Do you understand how… infuriating that is?”

Tamir traded a nervous glance with the boss’s flesh golem, who still seemed equally confused as he was.

“…Very?” Tamir guessed once the silence threatened to become awkward.

General Nasrith remained utterly still for several more long moments before finally responding with a carefully controlled tone. “Yes. Very.”

Tamir watched nervously as the general let out a deep breath and composed himself before continuing.

“It is for this reason that I am partial to granting your request for the redeployment of a Critical Asset, if you agree to do something for me in return,” said General Nasrith, staring directly at the flesh golem with his scary snake eyes. “Once this war is over, Tal’Qamar will necessarily need to revise significant portions of its laws and treaties to accommodate its transition from a city-state to a more expansive national entity and integrate its new territories. I have certain ideas for what these changes should entail.”

“And you want the Cult of Cerebon to support them,” Tamir said before cringing and chastising himself for impulsively blurting out the obvious conclusion.

Thankfully, the general didn’t seem to be offended.

“Not only that, but I would like for Apostle Zareth to advocate these proposals to a few select parties on my behalf once he returns to Tal’Qamar,” General Nasrith explained. “Specifically, the rest of the Hierophant Council sans the Circle of Ghisara. The majority of the Great Houses are nearly guaranteed to oppose my changes, so we will need many other factions to counter their influence. Apostle Zareth would be more trusted by these factions than myself or anyone else I could plausibly enlist as an ambassador.”

Although Tamir wasn’t as savvy as the boss when it came to politics, even he could see the potential risks in what the general was proposing.

According to Zareth, he was attacked by a group of dangerous [Assassins] after vaguely offending and threatening the interests of a single Great House in Tal’Hadin. Tamir hesitated to imagine what kind of absolute madness would be unleashed upon him if he managed to antagonize the majority of them.

Reading between the lines, General Nasrith was an ally of House Vhelan, so they probably had a hand in whatever it was that they were planning post-war. Zareth had also said that they were a close ally of House Kavasa. But even if those two Great Houses weren’t trying to kill the boss, that still left three families of naga with more gold than Tamir could ever hope to fathom angling to bury him in the sands.

Tamir would rather run off into the desert and hope he got adopted by a lonely [Sand Hag] than face something like that!

However, he knew that the boss was a lot more willing to take risks than he was. Zareth also probably didn’t have that much of a choice, given the whole “surrounded by actually evil cultists” thing that had brought them here in the first place.

Rough deal.

Sure enough, Tamir didn’t have to wait too long for the golem to start scribbling away again and hand him another piece of parchment.

“We would like for the exact details of this agreement to be written down by a [Scribe] and presented to us. We also need to know specifically what laws High Command wishes to revise, as some of them may affect the Cult of Cerebon as much as they affect the Great Houses.”

The smile that General Nasrith gave in response wasn’t one that filled Tamir with any degree of reassurance, and he sincerely doubted that the boss felt any different…

Chapter 12

Zareth let out a small huff of frustration as he looked over the makeshift biological weapons that he was attempting to create.

It looked quite similar to the Blood Sacs that he’d provided High Command for their assault on Fal’Ashar, but its internal structure was heavily modified. Rather than spewing out highly adhesive and somewhat acidic blood, this latest weapon was supposed to exude the most potent paralytic airborne toxin that he and Vidhatri could come up with.

Unfortunately, Zareth was confronted with the limitations of lacking access to his laboratory and all the biomass stored within.

“Vidhatri, are you certain that this is really the best that we can do?” Zareth asked as he placed down the ball of pulsating flesh and turned to the shivarath. “This toxin would only slow down someone with 30 Vitality after extended exposure and have almost no effect on anyone with 40 Vitality.”

“Hmph. Meldorath’s Heart has spoiled you,” Vidhatri replied with a scoff, not bothering to look up from her own fleshcrafting project that she was expertly shaping with all six hands. “Unless you’re able to produce magic-infused biomass without the Heart, you’ll have to be satisfied with using the mundane venom from the Dune Lurker Serpents. Though I doubt it will make any great difference, given that our enemies are heathens foolish enough to forsake the System.”

Zareth supposed that was true. While the Cult of the Unfettered One presumably had managed to develop unique capabilities by relying on the Etherveil instead of the System, that wasn’t universally advantageous. Without physical stats like Strength and Vitality, the cult’s members would almost certainly be a lot squishier and more vulnerable to biological attacks than most.

Still, there was one problem with that.

“We can’t assume that will be the case for all of them,” said Rizok as he leaned against the wall, giving voice to Zareth’s concerns before he could do so himself. “We know too little of their organizational structure or how devoted the residents of Jabal-Alma are to the cult’s precepts. I haven’t seen any evidence to suggest that these ogres are System-less.”

“Perhaps, but they are not our concern. Zareth’s only objective, thus our only objective, is to prevent the enemy heathens from escaping via teleportation during the coming chaos, no?” Vidhatri responded as she gradually sharpened and shaped a long piece of bone until it had a blade-like edge. “So long as our primary targets are incapacitated, then all other enemy forces are free for the slaughter.”

Zareth didn’t exactly like the way Vidhatri had phrased it, but she wasn’t wrong.

His negotiations with General Nasrith had been… difficult, and he’d ended up agreeing to something that would undoubtedly cause him headaches in the future, but he’d been ultimately successful in arranging for a Critical Asset to be deployed to Jabal-Alma. Not just any Critical Asset either, but the actual leader of House Kavasa himself, Archmage Agnazir.

Zareth didn’t know all that much about him, but he was apparently some kind of powerful mage who agreed to lend out his assistance after General Nasrith shared information about the Cult of the Unfettered One. It made sense, as anyone with an interest in magic would be invested in a chance to learn more about teleportation.

Zareth sincerely doubted that someone strong enough to be called a “Critical Asset,” who was also the leader of a Great House, would have taken time to help otherwise.

Regardless, Zareth had been given a guarantee that his supposed savior would be arriving within the hour. Archmage Agnazir would then somehow completely bypass all of Jabal-Alma’s defenses, infiltrate the ruins, and launch an attack on the Cult of the Unfettered One before they even knew he was there…

How he intended to do that, Zareth had no idea. But who was he to question a literal [Archmage]?

Once that happened, it was almost certain that Jabal-Alma would be alerted by some means. Whether it be them feeling the destruction of their magical wards, someone with access to [Danger Sense], or some method of long-distance communication, there were simply too many different options to count.

Consequently, Zareth and everyone else from Tal’Qamar who wasn’t an [Archmage] would need to be prepared to suddenly find themselves smack dab in the middle of hostile territory. There was absolutely no way to know how long it would take for Agnazir to finish his assault and offer assistance, so they needed to be ready for the worst-case scenario where the entirety of Jabal-Alma attacked them for an extended period of time.

Moreover, Zareth wanted to detain the most important enemy figures so that they could be properly interrogated afterward while also leaving behind as few corpses as possible.

Zareth had a vested interest in this, as he still had hopes that he would be able to integrate Jabal-Alma into his territory after rooting out the Cult of the Unfettered One. This would be easier if he could capture the people who knew this place best.

Of course, all of that was easier said than done.

It would take a bit of cunning to successfully achieve all of his objectives given how outnumbered they were.

“Done,” Vidhatri said with satisfaction as she finished her little project and presented it to Rizok.

It was a long, makeshift sword crafted from sharpened bone with a hilt covered in sinew and flesh. The weapon’s blade was coated with a thin layer of venom that promised excruciating pain to anyone unfortunate enough to be wounded by it. Rizok grasped the blade’s hilt without hesitation and used [Temporary Blade] to sharpen the weapon further before he made a few expert swings.

“Not bad,” Rizok said after several moments. “The balance is not quite as good as my previous blade, and I doubt that it’d survive long against a weapon enhanced by a high-level [Enchanter] or crafted by a competent [Blacksmith], but it will serve its purpose.”

“I’m glad you approve. It will be a pleasure to watch you cut down our enemies with a weapon made from my own flesh,” said Vidhatri, her tone entirely too flirtatious for such a morbid comment.

“That’s… nice, but I think I should probably test if it can serve its most important function,” Zareth said as he held out his hand for the sword, interrupting Rizok before he could respond.

Thankfully, the lizardkin merely offered Vidhatri a suggestive smile before handing the sword over. Zareth did his best to ignore the little byplay and immediately began using his abilities to analyze the weapon.

It wasn’t terribly complicated, though Vidhatri’s venom was one that he didn’t recognize, and the entire sword seemed a bit more durable than its material should naturally allow, likely due to some facet of [Flesh Crafting]. However, it seemed just as well-made as all the other weapons that Vidhatri had made for the rest of the soldiers.

His assessment complete, Zareth decisively buried the weapon in his chest and began the process of merging it into his own body. He’d had to move a few internal organs to make a space where it could be safely stored without excessively impeding his movements, but it was necessary if their plan was going to work.

“It’s a bit of a tight fit, but I think this should work,” Zareth said once he finished subsuming the blade, rolling his shoulders as he got used to the strange sensation. “I have no idea how you managed to store so many weapons in your body, Vidhatri. Even just this feels like a challenge.”

“[Compact Flesh] is an often overlooked skill, but one that I find invaluable,” Vidhatri said, a trace of pride flashing through her four eyes.

“We’d definitely be buried up to our waist in sand without it. I doubt we’d last long without any weapons,” said Zareth as he nervously tapped his fingers against his leg and considered everything that could go wrong with their plan. “Is everything with the relocation of Skaara still going as planned?”

“You needn’t worry. Our injured guide is safe where she is,” said Vidhatri, reaching into her chest and casually pulling out a pulsating sphere of biomass that sustained the lizardkin’s brain before returning it to its place. “Unless the heathens are given a reason to look close, the flesh replica that we left behind should pass muster long enough for our purposes.”

Once they decided on their plan, Zareth and Vidhatri had used every bit of expertise at their disposal to create a biological clone of Skaara that could fool the [Crystal Speaker] assigned to heal her. After all, the hospital was on the other side of Jabal-Alma, and they couldn’t afford to have the lizardkin taken hostage once hostilities began.

Fortunately, Skaara was still comatose, so creating a pile of meat that looked like her on the surface was… still difficult, but not impossible.

It wasn’t all that hard for Zareth to form the body’s appearance as he’d worked with a decent amount of lizardkin and possessed [Aesthetic Intuition], but actually getting things to breathe was beyond his ability. Even if he had access to the most cutting edge neuroscience research back on Earth, Zareth doubted that he’d be able to replicate the neurons responsible for managing a human’s respiratory System, let alone a lizardkin’s.

Usually [Permanent Flesh Manipulation] generally handled those kinds of details automatically, such as making neurological modifications that made it possible to control his tendrils, but it wasn’t something he could actively control to a fine degree.

Vidhatri’s assistance proved invaluable in that regard, and they were able to successfully switch out Skaara with a convincing enough copy and turn the real one into… a more portable form.

“I suppose we’ll just have to trust that nobody will notice,” Zareth mused before turning his attention to Rizok. “How are things progressing with Major Idris and his soldiers?”

“They’ve all been informed of the plan and are prepared for battle,” Rizok confirmed, his eyes firm and determined. “However, none of them are trained for operations requiring significant deception. There’s a large risk that things could go wrong if the enemy becomes suspicious.”

That was certainly true, but Zareth felt it was a risk that they were just going to have to take.

None of them could afford to be in the lodgings that Jabal-Alma had prepared for them when combat began. Without a capable [Geomancer] on their side, attempting to barricade themselves in underground chambers while facing off against an enemy who literally built their settlement by carving out tunnels was tantamount to suicide.

It would likely only take minutes for Jabal-Alma to collapse the entire place on top of their heads, which was an outcome that no amount of clever planning could overcome.

Therefore, Zareth needed to relocate both himself and his allies out of their lodgings and into the relatively open cenote where they could establish defenses without being crushed by several tons of rock. Unfortunately, it would come across just a tad bit suspicious if Zareth suddenly decided to move everyone out of their accommodations without a plausible reason.

Especially given that, in hindsight, the locals had probably been quite deliberate when they had confiscated all of their weapons and housed them somewhere that they could all be isolated and killed with minimal effort. Also, Rizok had noticed a slight uptick in the number of ogres patrolling outside their lodging area after the ogre Vidhatri had turned into a meatball reported an inexplicable gap in his memory.

It wasn’t anything significant enough that Rizok would have noticed if he wasn’t explicitly looking out for it. This was likely because the locals themselves had no strong evidence that anything was amiss, but it still indicated that Chieftain Murog was paranoid enough to act on even the smallest inconsistency.

This meant that their deception would have to be very well executed if they were going to get away with it.

“This would all be a lot easier to coordinate if Archmage Agnazir could be a bit more precise about exactly when he’s going to arrive,” Zareth murmured, running his hands through his hair as he tried to calm down his nerves. “If he arrives too late, then we’re going to be in a world of trouble.”

One would think that an [Archmage] had some way of contacting them, but Agnazir either wasn’t able to or didn’t care enough to make the effort.

For some reason, Zareth had a hunch that it was the latter.

“We’ve arranged everything the best that we can,” said Rizok, placing a hand on Zareth’s shoulder reassuringly. “It’s tempting to overthink a battle before it begins, but there comes a time that you simply have to trust in the preparation that you’ve made and the competency of your allies. Everyone who came with you from Tal’Qamar is an experienced soldier, and Major Idris learned from the greatest defense-specialized officers in our ranks. We are more than equipped to handle the challenge ahead.”

Zareth took a deep breath and gave his friend a nod of gratitude. He was still a bit nervous, but not nearly as much as he expected to be.

After growing up in the deadliest part of Tal’Qamar, surviving two separate assassination attempts, and delving into the temple of a dead god filled with horrific creatures, he’d become more accustomed to danger than he ever thought possible. He had the backing of capable soldiers, a vicious [Fleshwarper] who’d probably killed more people than he’d like to think about, and one of the most powerful individuals in Tal’Qamar coming to provide reinforcements.

When this day ended, it wouldn’t be him who would be regretting their decisions. No, when the dust settled, it would be the Cult of the Unfettered One who would regret luring innocents to death and attempting to do the same to Zareth and his allies.

“Then if there’s nothing else, let’s get started,” said Zareth as he decisively exited his room and began making his way to the main area where everyone else was waiting. “The sooner we begin, the better positioned we will be once Archmage Agnazir arrives.”

Zareth heard Rizok and Vidhatri immediately follow in step behind him, both of them fully prepared for the upcoming battle. When he arrived in the central gathering area, he was relieved to see that everyone else seemed just as ready and determined as he felt. Zareth’s retinue and the two squads of soldiers from the Southern Legion were all checking over what equipment they had and were finalizing their preparations.

One of Major Idris’s [Scouts] was keeping a close lookout by the entrance to their lodgings for anyone from Jabal-Alma while the lizardkin [War Mage] had a distant look in her eyes, presumably staying alert for any magical surveillance.

Major Idris noticed them approaching and immediately barked out to the rest of the room, “Soldiers, attention!”

Everyone snapped to attention, the sound of boots thudding against the stone floor in a unified chorus as they all turned their eyes to Zareth and waited patiently. Though not for some kind of inspirational speech or to listen to the amazing strategic insight of a twenty-three-year-old civilian; Major Idris had already thoroughly covered and discussed the plan in detail.

Instead, Zareth stopped a few feet in front of the assembled soldier and closed his eyes before quietly reaching out to his god. This was a rare occasion where he was the one taking the fight to the enemy and not being suddenly ambushed by [Assassins] or flesh golems emerging from the walls, and he fully intended to take advantage of the chance to properly prepare.

“Lord Cerebon. I’m not sure if you’re listening, bu⁠—”

Zareth nearly flinched as he immediately sensed Cerebon’s attention settle on him like a heavy cloak, intense and all-consuming. He could feel faint anticipation in the god’s presence, similar to what he felt before his ritual against the Conclave, along with a silent encouragement to continue.

Ignoring Vidhatri’s sudden burst of feverish prayers, Zareth regained his composure and carried on with his prayers.

“Thank you for your attention, Lord Cerebon. While these soldiers are not among your followers, they fight with me against an enemy that would see us dead,” Zareth began, the Divine Essence in the room growing thicker with each passing moment. “Please, bestow on them your blessing so that I may further your designs.”

The moment he finished his relatively simple prayer, Zareth used [Manipulate Divine Essence] to guide his god’s power to the soldiers before activating [Minor Blessing of Cerebon].

It wasn’t a skill that he used all that often, mostly due to a lack of opportunity and because it wasn’t exceptionally powerful. Temporarily granting people a lesser version of [Cerebon’s Boon] was somewhat useful, but that wasn’t possible without time to prepare beforehand. Likewise, most of his experiments in blessing objects with the skill produced… inconsistent and unreliable results.

Knives that turned into gelatinous puddles of flesh, rings that gave the wearer both enhanced regeneration along with a horrible rash, and one memorable instance when he tried to bless Rizok’s sword, only for it to grow a mouth and start screaming at him.

Zareth was very glad at the time that it was only temporary.

Vidhatri was the one who taught him that skills like [Minor Blessing of Cerebon] were similar to [Ritual of Offering], in that it was best used after beseeching Cerebon directly and was even better when he could guide the Divine Essence to the intended target. These were the sort of details about skills that organizations learned over time, and Zareth was fortunate to have Vidhatri’s extensive knowledge at his disposal.

Zareth felt as Cerebon answered his prayer. The Divine Essence intensified even further and poured into the soldiers arrayed before him and, strangely, into himself as well.

He was briefly worried that they would all start spontaneously growing limbs or undergo some other gruesome transformation. That would have drawn a lot of attention, but Cerebon seemed to show him mercy and kept the blessing subtle, the only visible change a momentary palpitation that seemed to ripple across all of their bodies.

Once the process ended and everyone stopped yelping at the bizarre sensation, all of them turned their attention to the unexpected message from the System.

Or in Zareth’s case, messages.

[Cerebon’s Greater Boon] has been temporarily acquired!

[Cerebon’s Boon] has evolved into [Cerebon’s Greater Boon]!

Temporary skill has become permanent!

Zareth found himself dumbstruck as Vidhatri’s zealous prayers reached a new level in their intensity, expressing her gratitude to the Weaver of Sinews. Zareth did feel grateful, but he mostly just felt confused because he was pretty sure that the description for [Minor Blessing of Cerebon] explicitly stated that it only granted a lesser version of his boon…

Not to mention the fact that his previous boon seemed to have evolved and become permanent?

Before he could fully comprehend what was happening, Zareth’s entire body tensed as Cerebon’s attention became nearly suffocating. The previous anticipation had morphed into something more akin to deep satisfaction and vague images of the artifact atop his spire began to flash through his mind.

Moreover, there was something very strange about the System message attached to [Cerebon’s Greater Boon].

It was difficult to explain to someone who had never experienced it themselves, but while the System didn’t actually speak or create any sort of auditory messages, its messages did have their own sort of distinct “voice” through the intuitive understanding it imparted. This voice had always felt alien and almost eldritch to Zareth in a way that he couldn’t quite articulate.

[Cerebon’s Greater Boon] still carried a hint of that otherworldliness as he attempted to access its description, but there was also something else. A secondary message that felt distinctly familiar.

Cerebon’s Greater Boon – Increases the Strength, Vitality, and Agility of the user by 3. Substantially increased physical regeneration and grants resistance to poisons and toxins. Slightly enhances sensory perception. Grants the user a minor ability to adapt to environmental threats. Strengthens any divine link between the user and Cerebon, God of Flesh and Transformation.

It was only after he finished analyzing the skill that Zareth realized what was strange about it. The “voice” of the message reminded him far more of Cerebon than the eldritch feeling he was accustomed to with typical System notifications. He had a feeling that this had something to do with the last portion of the description.

While everyone else was busy inspecting the unexpectedly powerful boon, Zareth turned to Vidhatri, quietly sharing these strange changes he’d noticed and asking if she had any idea what was causing them. He shouldn’t have been surprised when Vidhatri’s eyes immediately lit up with newfound zeal.

“Our actions here must be more key to the Weaver of Sinew’s designs than we first knew,” Vidhatri said fervently, her voice filled with excitement. “He’s chosen to use this opportunity to grant you his greater boon! I didn’t earn such an honor until I passed the sacred trials to become a Senior Fleshwarper. With the divine link strengthened, he can now send images to guide your path. It’s clear from what you saw that our god wishes to use that artifact to speak with you upon our return to Tal’Qamar!”

That was… definitely an unexpected development. He couldn’t help but feel both curious about Cerebon’s motivations and what these mysterious “designs” may be, as well as a sense of foreboding toward their eventual conversation.

After all, the last one resulted in him hiking through the desert and exploring an ancient, monster-filled temple.

However, dealing with the implications of all that was an issue for later. He couldn’t afford to be distracted when they were about to head into battle.

“I’ve done my part, Major Idris. Vidhatri and I are ready to begin the plan if your soldiers are as well,” said Zareth, turning his attention back to the immediate task at hand.

Major Idris nodded to him resolutely before addressing the soldiers. “You heard the man. Remember your orders. Keep your mouths shut once we’re out of here. I don’t want any of you saying something stupid and getting us caught. After we reach the designated location, be prepared to set up a defensive perimeter and do your best to avoid attention. I doubt the locals will be willing to approach us, but it’s best not to tempt fate. Am I understood?”

The soldiers responded in unison, their voices resonating resolve and readiness.

“Yes, sir!”

Major Idris nodded in approval before turning his gaze back to Zareth. “We’re as ready as we’ll ever be, Apostle Zareth.”

Having already been told what to do, Vidhatri stepped forward and raised a single arm toward the soldiers as she prepared to enact the first stage of their plan to get out into the open without drawing suspicion. A small hole opened in her palm, and a revolting, pus-colored stream of gas poured forth and covered the soldiers.

They withstood it surprisingly well, with only a few of them looking as if they were at risk of gagging as an absolutely nauseating scent similar to raw sewage mixed with rotting fish filled the air. The gas was something that Vidhatri had developed from some particularly foul creature native to Zumair and was similar to the gas she used to bypass the ogres guarding the tunnel to the ruins.

Zareth instantly disabled his olfactory receptors and felt a surge of gratitude that his abilities were so convenient.

Once everyone was properly coated with the noxious concoction, Vidhatri ceased spewing the gas, and Zareth began the next part of the plan. He immediately turned around and began running out of their lodgings, not having to fake his coughs and expression of disgust. He doubted any of the others had to put on much of an act either, as the dramatic scene of more than 30 people wheezing and staggering out of the barracks, enveloped in a cloud of foul odor, was convincing enough on its own.

A few armed ogres looked as if they were about to stop them, but they all immediately recoiled at the stench the moment they attempted to approach.

Zareth and his allies made it into Jabal-Alma proper without incident, the civilians all effectively kept at a distance. It wasn’t long after that before Chieftain Murog and several of Jabal-Alma’s other leaders arrived and approached with reluctant expressions.

“What is going on here? Why do you smell as if you’ve been bathing in Deepworm vomit?” Chieftain Murog asked, barely concealing his disgust as he held a cloth over his nose.

“I apologize, Chieftain. There was an… unfortunate incident in our lodgings,” said Zareth, feigning an embarrassed expression as he offered his planned story. “You’re familiar with my abilities, correct? Senior Fleshwarper Vidhatri was instructing me on how to create a particular type of biological substance, and I had a… bit of an accident when attempting to make it. The result was an unknown gas that spread through our accommodations and is responsible for the unpleasant odor. We were forced to evacuate to ensure everyone’s safety.”

Chieftain Murog’s expression grew increasingly annoyed throughout Zareth’s explanation until the point when he mentioned that the gas may be dangerous, at which point his demeanor shifted to one of concern.

“Do you believe that this substance is toxic? Are my people in danger?” Chieftain Murog asked urgently, stepping back slightly as he surveyed the group as if they were carrying a plague.

“I-I’m sure it’s nothing too serious,” Zareth said, doing his best to sound uncertain about his reassurance. “I do feel slightly unwell, but there’s nothing to worry about. All of the soldiers have decent Vitality, and my god makes me more resilient than most. Since the source of the problem came from a gas instead of an actual disease, there’s only a small chance that it could cause harm to anyone outside of immediate exposure.”

Zareth made sure to punctuate the point by using his abilities to cause a tiny stream of blood to trickle from his nose. He quickly moved to wipe it away, but not before Chieftain Murog noticed and widened his eyes.

A quick series of expressions crossed the chieftain’s face, from slight suspicion to consideration, before eventually landing on grudging acceptance.

“You and the rest of the outsiders will be escorted above ground by our warriors,” Chieftain Murog said firmly, already gesturing to his guards to begin carrying out his orders. “Pails of water will be brought for you to wash away the substance. You will not be allowed back into Jabal-Alma until it can be determined that you are no longer a risk to our community.”

Zareth stopped his expression from breaking out into a big smile as the plan put together by General Nasrith’s [Strategists] worked out exactly as intended. Although to be fair to Chieftain Murog, it wasn’t as if he had many other options. Given that Jabal-Alma’s hospital was built into a series of underground tunnels, a potentially toxic gas would easily spread through the confined space and endanger its inhabitants.

Bringing Zareth and the rest of the group above ground was the only possible option that Jabal-Alma could have taken so long as they wished to maintain the safety of their community.

It likely helped from Chieftain Murog’s perspective that their group was completely disarmed and that Jabal-Alma had plenty of warriors stationed above ground.

It didn’t take long for the ogres to organize and begin escorting them to the stairway that led to the surface. As they made their way upward, Zareth reviewed the rest of their plan in his head and considered everything that could go wrong.

There were difficult requirements that they needed to fulfill if they wanted to succeed.

They needed to defeat the ogre warriors stationed above ground before the rest of Jabal-Alma could realize what was happening and launch a counter-attack. Chieftain Murog and the rest of the enemy’s leadership needed to be prevented from going back down into the cenote before hostilities started so that they could be captured. A strong enough defensive perimeter would need to be created for Zareth and around 30 soldiers to withstand an assault from potentially hundreds of enemy combatants.

All in all, they had a tough road ahead, and there were many things that could go wrong enough to cost them all their lives.

Zareth stepped above ground and closed his nictitating membrane as he was exposed to the Qahtani Desert’s scorching sun for the first time in several days. A quick look around confirmed that there were a decent number of warriors stationed around the entrance to Jabal-Alma, with several more positioned on the ramparts of the wall surrounding them.

Fortunately, most of them seemed merely disgusted by the scent wafting from the group rather than suspicious or alarmed. A few of them weren’t even carrying their weapons, instead casually leaning against the walls of nearby wooden buildings or playing some kind of games with stones on the ground to pass the time.

Zareth was glad to see it since they needed all the advantages that they could get. As he finished surveying the area, taking note of enemy positions and mentally preparing himself for the confrontation ahead, he was poised and ready for anything to happen.

But even as he was about to initiate his plan to prevent Chieftain Murog from leaving the moment their group was delivered to the surface, he still didn’t quite expect things to go wrong immediately.

Zareth stumbled to the ground as the earth began to violently shake, a thunderous rumble emerging from beneath their feet. The suddenness of it caught everyone off guard, causing a cacophony of shouts and confusion as they all struggled to maintain their balance. The unexpected earthquake only lasted for a few moments before it dissipated and left behind a scene of turmoil as everyone tried to figure out what had just happened.

Zareth was just as confused as everyone else until he suddenly sensed a massive surge of magical energy emanating from Jabal-Alma. More specifically, the surge seemed to originate from the general direction of the ruins where the Cult of the Unfettered One was located.

Even with [Magic Perception] and [Ether Attunement], Zareth shouldn’t have been able to so clearly pinpoint the magical surge from such a distance. That meant that there was only one possible explanation.

Zareth hurriedly began scanning in his surroundings as his mind raced to figure out how he should respond, stopping when he met gazes with Chieftain Murog, who’d also fallen to the ground and was looking around and assessing the situation.

Even looking back on this moment in the future, Zareth wouldn’t be able to say exactly what he saw that convinced him to make his next decision. Perhaps it was the thinly veiled suspicion in the chieftain’s eyes or the likelihood that there was someone among the ogres who could also sense the magical surge and understand its implications.

But whatever it was, Zareth immediately knew that they had to act swiftly and decisively.

“Major Idris! Now!”

Zareth was already pushing off the ground and charging toward the chieftain as he shouted, intent on preventing him from retreating back into Jabal-Alma and rallying more forces against them. He felt Rizok’s [Aura of Bolstering] wash over him, enhancing him physically and granting him a burst of speed as he sprinted toward his target.

Their attack had definitely caught the ogres off guard, allowing Zareth to get close, as many of them were still picking themselves up from the ground. His fingers shifted into venom-covered claws, and tendrils burst from his back before surging toward Chieftain Murog’s chest.

One of Murog’s guards reacted quickly and attempted to intercept him, slicing off two of his tendrils with an expert slice of his spear. Likewise, one of the Elders astonished Zareth by swiftly manipulating the Etherveil with an expertise that surpassed his own and casting a spell that caused the earth beneath his feet to turn to mud.

However, the surprise of his assault was just enough for Zareth’s ambush to succeed.

Sensing the spell just before it was cast, he leapt forward at the last moment and gouged out a chunk of Murog’s side, injecting a fair amount of venom. This caused the chieftain to let out a roar of pain and hit Zareth with a powerful kick that broke several ribs and sent him flying back toward his allies.

By then, enough time had passed for the initial confusion to disappear and for each side to realize that they were now locked in battle.

Vidhatri was distributing fleshcrafted weapons that were emerging from her body to the soldiers, a Tal’Qamari [War Mage] was launching bolts of lightning at ogre soldiers atop the ramparts, and Rizok was charging forward to engage Jabal-Alma’s leadership.

“[Defensive Positioning]! [Deploy Fortifications]!”

A moment after Major Idris used his skills, the soldiers from Tal’Qamar organized themselves into formation with mechanical efficiency while several earthen barricades spontaneously sprang up from the ground. Long-range fighters took positions behind these new defenses while the melee fighters made a coordinated push toward the entrance to Jabal-Alma, intending to secure the area to prevent escape and defend against reinforcements.

Chieftain Murog glanced toward the path leading down into Jabal-Alma before turning back, likely realizing he wouldn’t escape in time with a paralyzed leg.

“Kill the outsiders and capture their leader! For the Bound God,” Chieftain Murog shouted as he stared at Zareth with hate-filled eyes and raised his spear up high. “[Rally the Faithful]!”

The chieftain’s skill instantly took effect as all the ogres suddenly began moving and fighting with unnatural fervor, though this didn’t worry Zareth all that much.

While the Tal’Qamar side was slightly outnumbered and reduced to makeshift weapons, it almost immediately became clear just how much experience mattered in this world. With higher levels earned through a lifetime of combat, the Tal’Qamari soldiers instantly trampled over and cut down several of the enemy warriors before they could properly organize a defense.

Combined with Rizok’s Aura and Major Idris’s superior tactical skills, their group moved with a lethal precision that only a professional fighting force would have been able to match. Not to mention the impressive regeneration offered by [Cerebon’s Greater Boon], allowing the Tal’Qamari soldiers to ignore minor wounds that may have affected them otherwise.

The enemy’s long-range fighters attempted to exploit their positional advantage, but Vidhatri quickly morphed into a fleshy monstrosity and threw herself onto the nearby ramparts, thoroughly occupying their attention.

Zareth quickly healed his broken ribs before taking position behind Major Idris’s conjured fortifications and using his long-range abilities to support the assault. He fired poisoned quills at any ogre he could safely target, used his Minor Decrease Gravity Sigil to unbalance enemies at the most opportune moments, and healed any injured soldiers who fell back to their position.

Zareth honestly expected them to clean up the enemy forces fairly quickly so that they could begin establishing defenses against the hundreds of Jabal-Alma’s warriors they anticipated would soon be swarming their location.

However, after a couple minutes of brutal combat, he began to notice that something was off.

While many of the enemy had either been killed or wounded in a way that put them out of the fight; the Tal’Qamari side only had a few severe injuries thanks to Zareth’s ability to deal with most wounds. Despite this, Zareth felt as if they confusingly hadn’t made as much progress as they should have and that the enemy somehow had more numbers than he’d initially estimated.

Having a feeling that he knew what was going on, Zareth stepped behind one of the fortifications just as an arrow flew by his head and began scanning his [Eye of Cerebon] across the battlefield. His suspicions were quickly confirmed as he noticed strange movements in the surrounding Etherveil, especially around the enemy forces.

It took a few moments for him to fully discern what they were doing, but Zareth figured it out when he noticed the edge of Rizok’s blade just barely falling short of a female ogre’s neck despite her not having moved to dodge. A Mirage Stalker [Archer] from the Tal’Qamari side snuck onto a rooftop and fired an arrow that expertly flew between two soldiers and should have struck Chieftain Murog in his blind spot. He somehow seemed to see it out of the corner of his eye and dodge at the last moment.

Of course. They’re using illusions, Zareth thought grimly as he began studying the battlefield with this new understanding in mind. Not only that, but whoever is doing this is really clever.

He’d never viewed illusions as something that could so drastically impact a battle, but the enemy was being subtle enough that Zareth doubted most people would notice. Positions were slightly different from what they seemed, movements were carefully misdirected, and the actual number of combatants was cleverly obscured.

Zareth watched as one of Chieftain Murog’s personal guards seemingly had her head crushed by a backhanded strike from Sergeant Grunlok’s shield, only for her to be concealed by an illusion and a fake corpse to be left in her place. She then fell back to receive healing from a [Crystal Speaker] who nobody else could seem to see, the magic stored in the crystal quickly mending her wounds.

It was an especially impressive sight given that the illusion must include some kind of tactile feedback to fool an experienced soldier.

Seeing such proficient and well-practiced use of the Etherveil, Zareth couldn’t help but wonder just how long the Cult of the Unfettered One had been honing the craft to achieve such results. The Tessik couldn’t even hope to compete despite investing a decent amount of research into the Etherveil.

Focus. I need to find the caster of the illusions, Zareth reminded himself as he fired a volley of poisoned quills at one of the three warriors that Rizok was fighting and began tracing the movements in the Etherveil back to their source.

There was nobody on the Tal’Qamari side who had the tools to do so, and they couldn’t afford to waste time or the enemy reinforcements would overwhelm them. Especially since the enemy had almost certainly used the cover of illusions to send someone down into Jabal-Alma.

Fortunately, it didn’t take long for him to zero in on the Elder who turned the ground beneath his feet into mud earlier, an old female ogre with skin so pale that it almost seemed translucent.

The enemy caster was standing somewhat off to the side of the main battle, shrouded in illusions as she expertly weaved the Etherveil. Zareth took a moment to think over his options. He wasn’t in the best position to attack the caster directly, and he didn’t know what tricks she might pull out of her sleeves to escape if she realized that she’d been spotted.

It was a good thing that there was someone on his side who had the ability to see through the illusions.

“Vidhatri, I need your help. Follow my gaze with your [Eye of Cerebon],” Zareth telepathically communicated, glad that the shivarath was still wearing the magical ring that allowed him to do so. “I need you to capture her alive.”

Vidhatri finished mauling the poor [Archer] that she’d been tearing apart with a giant tentacle completely covered in razor-toothed maws and quickly spotted the illusionist. “I can tell that someone is there, but they’re blurry. There’s a good chance that I’ll accidentally kill them if I can’t accurately target their vitals.”

Zareth briefly cursed as he split his attention between the illusionist and the overambitious ogre who’d used a skill to rapidly charge their defensive fortifications from the side before anyone could react. After ducking beneath a swing of the ogre’s spear and piercing his limbs with several tendrils, the [War Mage] standing by Major Idris took the opportunity to set the ogre ablaze with a ball of fire.

“I have an idea. Start positioning yourself so that you’re ready to ambush the illusionist as soon as she’s revealed,” Zareth said telepathically, ignoring the dying ogre next to him and focusing entirely on his target.

While he was nowhere near as experienced as the illusionist likely was in manipulating the Etherveil, he had the advantage of both surprise and [Ether Attunement] on his side. Zareth exploited every bit of those advantages that he could as he began slowly twisting and unraveling the threads of Ether that composed the Sigil sustaining her spell. It was far from easy, like attempting to unravel a spider’s web without alerting the spider, but also wasn’t as difficult as he’d initially feared.

The combination of [Ether Attunement] and his ability to see the Etherveil with such clarity using [Eye of Cerebon] made him feel like the steps came naturally.

Zareth must have been more absorbed in his task than he thought, because he didn’t even realize that he had succeeded before Vidhatri suddenly launched herself from the ramparts like a missile. The old illusionist was crushed into the ground by the weight of the malformed monstrosity that Vidhatri had become and quickly impaled by a tendril that was almost certainly pumping some manner of paralytic venom into her body.

With the source of the illusions incapacitated, the effect on the battlefield was almost immediate. Rizok cut down several ogres in a single moment, while Zareth sent the enemy’s healer flying into the air with his gravity Sigil and ran toward the front lines to engage directly with the disoriented ogres. Vidhatri finished subduing the illusionist and leapt into the fray with her typical ferocity while Major Idris used skills to improve the Tal’Qamari side’s coordination.

The sudden turn of events was enough to nearly shatter the morale of the remaining ogre warriors. Chieftain Murog put up a valiant last stand, his spear blurring as it moved so quickly that it seemed as if he were wielding multiple weapons at once. Yet, Jabal-Alma’s relative isolation meant that even their leader likely hadn’t seen as much combat as the seasoned soldiers of Tal’Qamar.

Rizok expertly weaved through the chieftain’s strikes and feinted to the side before launching a blisteringly fast attack that disarmed Murog of his weapon. Alarmingly, the chieftain didn’t hesitate to pull a knife strapped to his waist and thrust it toward his own chest in a desperate attempt to avoid capture, but Vidhatri and Zareth both acted in tandem to stop him. Zareth’s tendrils surged forward and wrapped around Murog’s wrist, halting the movement, while Vidhatri jumped onto the ogre’s back and paralyzed him with the same venom she’d used earlier.

As the last of the enemy forces was either incapacitated or cut down, Zareth took a moment to survey the aftermath of the battle.

He was surprised to see that the Tal’Qamari side had managed to capture the other leaders of Jabal-Alma without suffering a single fatality. The most severely injured soldier was a lizardkin who took what should be a fatal blow to the throat from the chieftain, but he had still survived due to [Cerebon’s Greater Boon] and Zareth’s healing.

Despite all of the advantages they had, it was still an amazing success and made Zareth wonder what he could accomplish if Cerebon always showed him this kind of favor. Unfortunately, he didn’t have much time to enjoy this victory before Major Idris had marched toward the entrance to Jabal-Alma and began shouting orders.

“Soldiers! Establish a defensive perimeter. Sergeant Grunlok, position the Bulwarks at the entrance and prepare to hold back enemy reinforcements! Corporal Tiranth, take our long-range fighters to the ramparts and open fire on anyone who tries to come out of that gods-forsaken hole! Apostle Zareth, Senior Fleshwarper Vidhatri, place your bioweapons around the entrance! [Deploy Fortifications]! [Rapid Positioning]!”

Zareth felt the major’s skill take effect as his body began moving before he registered what he was doing. He intuitively understood where to place the bioweapons so that their gas would filter down the staircase without affecting his allies and hopefully inhibit the enemy reinforcements.

The next few minutes were a blur of movement as the Tal’Qamari soldiers raced to position themselves as defensively as possible while Major Idris used an array of skills to swiftly create an impressive array of fortifications around the entrance to Jabal-Alma. All of them were hyperaware of the fact that at any moment, hundreds of armed warriors might pour out from the depths below and completely overwhelm them.

Even if they’d emerged victorious in the previous battle, there was absolutely no guarantee that would be the case when they were outnumbered ten to one.

Before long, Zareth was standing behind the fortifications and using [Eye of Cerebon] to look deep into the entrance of Jabal-Alma alongside Vidhatri, who was doing the same. The two of them, along with Major Idris’s [Scout], were the best equipped to spot any signs of enemy movement before anyone else. The rest of the soldiers were on high alert, expressions solemn and weapons at the ready as they prepared for the onslaught they all expected to come at any moment.

Zareth’s third eye scanned the darkness of the tunnel entrance, the tension growing with every passing moment. But as several minutes passed without any sign of reinforcements from Jabal-Alma, tension turned into suspicion before then turning into complete confusion.

“Vidhatri, can you sense anything?” Zareth whispered, hoping she might have some unique insight. When she shook her head, he asked the [Scout] the same thing and received a similar response.

Zareth’s confusion only grew as they continued to wait for another few minutes, with nothing but the sounds of the desert wind and the occasional shifting of soldiers to break the silence. He eventually turned a questioning look to Major Idris, who had the highest authority in a combat situation like this one and would be the one to decide on their next move.

Major Idris was just as bewildered as everyone else and seemed to understand that something needed to be done. “Sergeant Grunlok, you and the other Bulwarks will take point as we head down to see what’s keeping them. Proceed with caution, and be prepared to retreat back to our fortifications at the first sign of an ambush.”

With those orders delivered, everyone quickly organized into formation with the most defensive capabilities at the forefront and a few left behind to ensure the captives remained secure.

As they slowly descended back into Jabal-Alma, the silence was oppressive. The anticipation of being ambushed at any moment was almost worse than the actual fight, with every shadow and corner seeming to hide potential threats. It was only when they were around halfway down that the silence was broken by the distant sound of yelling.

Zareth was somewhat relieved to have confirmation that the residents of Jabal-Alma hadn’t all spontaneously vanished, but he still wasn’t quite sure what to expect. It was only when their group had finally descended far enough for them to see the source of the commotion that everything became clear.

Zareth’s mouth fell open in awe as he witnessed a colossal serpentine form, sculpted from the water of Jabal-Alma’s cenote, slam into half a dozen ogre warriors and effortlessly sweep them aside. Hundreds of stone arms had emerged from the walls and the ground of Jabal-Alma, each of them either having already captured an enemy combatant in its grasp or in the process of chasing down another. Massive crowds of civilians were contained within impenetrable barriers of wind, corralling them like cattle away from the most dangerous areas of conflict.

Amid all of this was a young naga wearing surprisingly modest robes who floated above Jabal-Alma on a tornado of wind. His expression was vaguely intrigued as he faced off against several ogres who were clearly members of the Cult of the Unfettered One if their manipulations of the Etherveil and frantic spellcasting were any indication.

Zareth watched as the naga, who could only be Archmage Agnazir, casually transformed a massive boulder that had been teleported above his head into a sphere of water with a flick of his wrist, then sent it crashing into a volley of arrows that had been launched at his back. He then instantly turned the ball of water into several dozen spears of ice and used them to bombard the enemy cultists.

Almost all of them managed to either dodge or conjure some kind of shield but soon began clawing at their throats a moment later. By the time Zareth realized that Archmage Agnazir had done something to the air surrounding them, the cultists had already collapsed unconscious and were quickly captured by a stone hand that emerged from beneath them.

“I-Is this really the power of an [Archmage]?” Zareth found himself asking as he and the other Tal’Qamari soldiers watched the unfolding scene in amazement.

It had taken them all substantial effort to deal with somewhere around 50 hostile warriors, but Archmage Agnazir looked like he was on track to secure the entirety of Jabal-Alma by himself. Zareth had always heard stories about how strong people could become when they reached the higher levels, but the utter disparity in strength was astonishing.

“Well, there’s a good reason why High Command refers to them as Critical Assets and why the Great Houses have managed to hold onto their power,” Rizok said at his side, eyes filled with something akin to reverence as he watched Archmage Agnazir. “It’s speculated that he has a variant class of [Archmage] that specializes in controlling elementals and that his level is somewhere in the 70s. Although nobody would claim that he’s the most powerful person on Valandor, Archmage Agnazir is one of the reasons why Tal’Qamar was never attacked while its military was sent abroad.”

Zareth had attributed that to the Skyglass Spire, but seeing Agnazir in action made it easy to imagine just how terrifying it would be to face the archmage on the battlefield. As Major Idris ordered their group to stand by and wait for Archmage Agnazir to finish cleaning up the enemy forces, he also began to wonder what kind of resources the other Great Houses could possibly have that would allow them to compete against such power.

Given that his deal with General Nasrith would soon put him into deeper conflict with several of the Great Houses, that was something that he suddenly felt that he should learn more about.

Chapter 13

It had taken a bit longer than Zareth had expected to finish dealing with the fallout from fully occupying Jabal-Alma and clearing out their previous leadership.

Not only did they need to figure out how to handle a relatively hostile population and establish some manner of administrative structure, but they also needed to thoroughly investigate the Cult of the Unfettered One’s activities. The first two tasks had been almost exclusively left for Zareth to reckon with, since General Nasrith had taken a few steps toward legitimizing Zareth’s territorial claim as a part of their agreement. Zareth had been fairly accepting of this and even somewhat excited to dip his toes into governance so that he could hopefully start meeting the requirements for his Ruler class.

But any bit of enthusiasm that he may have once possessed had since thoroughly evaporated…

“Excuse me? Didn’t we spend days scouring Jabal-Alma so that we could confiscate every single weapon? How did one of your men get stabbed with a stone knife?” Zareth asked incredulously as he read through the daily report of incidents within the settlement. “And what’s with this request for more manpower being temporarily allocated to patrols? I thought we’d done a good job of sorting out the troublemakers and separating them from the rest of the population. Not to mention the effectiveness of the elementals.”

It was a widespread custom to take over the previous leader’s seat as a symbol of your authority after conquering a particular territory, but even sitting on the ornate stone chair in Chieftain Murog’s former office wasn’t enough to make him feel like a ruler. Instead, Zareth felt more like an overworked bureaucrat as he dealt with the most recent complication to reach his desk.

“A few of the locals apparently have a special variant of the [Mason] class called [Stoneshaper] that allows them to manipulate stone without any tools,” Major Idris explained, posture rigid and expression weary as he stood on the other side of Zareth’s desk. “We’re trying to hunt down the one who created the weapon, but that’s going to be difficult until the [Investigators] arrive along with the reinforcements from Tal’Qamar. As for the patrols, Corporal Farzaneh felt her [Detect Threat] activate while passing through the southern district. I’d rather not take any chances of anyone being ambushed without backup.”

Zareth let out a groan of frustration and glanced out a nearby window overlooking most of Jabal-Alma, the well-being of which now rested squarely on his shoulders.

Most of the civilians had been allowed to return to a semblance of normal life, given that it simply wasn’t feasible to maintain too tight a grip with the resources available to them. Jabal-Alma’s food supply wasn’t so large that it could afford to keep most of its population being kept as prisoners.

This meant that he could actually see a good number of people walking through the streets and going about their daily lives, which was a far better outcome than Jabal-Alma would have faced under most circumstances. High Command had heavily suggested executing every single person who was discovered to be even tangentially related to the Cult of the Unfettered One, including their families.

Such heavy-handed tactics were fairly common in this world, and it had taken Zareth a significant amount of effort to convince High Command otherwise.

It was truly fortunate that the Southern Legion needed Jabal-Alma to serve as a useful logistical hub for its campaign to hold off Ankhet—which itself required that half the settlement’s population not be put to the sword. He sincerely doubted that he would have been able to sway the opinions of High Command on moral grounds alone.

Still, Zareth had managed to sway them and now had to deal with governing a hostile population and maintaining order well enough that High Command didn’t regret their decision.

The only reason we’ve even managed this long is because of Archmage Agnazir, Zareth thought as he turned his gaze to the rather intimidating creatures the overpowered naga had created to help keep the population under control. I have a feeling that those rumors of Agnazir specializing in elementals are likely to be accurate…

A half-dozen stone behemoths slithered through the streets of Jabal-Alma, their serpentine forms towering over its terrified residents. Vaguely shaped wisps of wind flew high above, darting through the air and acting as some kind of advanced surveillance system for the Tal’Qamari forces. Unnatural waves disturbed the surface of the settlement’s cenote as the same water elemental that had washed away so many warriors lingered beneath its depths.

Even if everyone with a combat class hadn’t been detained, it was safe to say that any uprising would be swiftly put down.

However, Agnazir wasn’t going to stay here forever, and Zareth didn’t exactly want to rule these people with an iron fist.

“You’re free to reprimand the parents of the children and levy them a fine, but make it reasonable,” Zareth said as he turned his attention back to the major. “Even if we’ll have a well-manned garrison after reinforcements finally arrive, I’d like to keep resentment to a minimum. Regarding the increased patrols, I trust that there is likely to be an actual threat given that the Corporal’s [Detect Threat] was triggered, but you know as well as I how short-handed we are. It doesn’t seem like a good idea to have extra personnel patrolling for who knows how long.”

Many soldiers were needed to watch over the nearly overflowing prisons, as people with combat-oriented classes were very dangerous even without weapons. A decent number had also been allocated to help establish the urgently needed supply line to the Southern Legion, relocating food and containers of water to the surface for future transport.

“You’re not wrong, Lord-Marshal. But that doesn’t make the potential threat any less real,” Major Idris said with a stoic expression. “I’d rather not have any of my soldiers killed in an attack we saw coming. Especially when the issue could almost certainly be solved within a few minutes if certain parties decided to do so…”

“I really wish you’d stop using that title,” Zareth grumbled as he set aside the report, already knowing that his protests weren’t going to go anywhere given the recent legitimization of his claim and that aristocratic titles superseded class-based titles in Tal’Qamari culture. “Archmage Agnazir isn’t particularly enthusiastic about helping any more than he already has. Especially when it would pull him away from his research of the ruins. He’s… not exactly easy to talk to.”

Zareth’s first attempt at speaking with Agnazir after the archmage finished dismantling Jabal-Alma’s defenses like a knife cutting through butter didn’t get very far. The naga had looked at him for a few seconds as if he were a mildly interesting insect before seemingly growing bored and flying away, though he had at least been kind enough to leave behind elementals to help maintain security.

Agnazir had eventually been found in the Nephalan ruins, but he was so engrossed in his research that he barely acknowledged anyone’s presence. The only bright side of the situation was that they’d since learned a good deal from Agnazir’s assistants, which he had somehow brought with him from Tal’Qamar, about the Cult of the Unfettered One thanks to the ongoing research.

“That’s why I chose the life of a seasoned military officer over that of a feudal lord, Lord-Marshal,” Major Idris quipped, a hint of humor breaking through his otherwise stern demeanor. “The only politics that I have to deal with are ones that involve supply requisition requests and the occasional squabble over mission assignments. The food isn’t all that great, but at least I don’t need to talk to irritable Archmages who could turn me into a newt with a flick of their wrist.”

Zareth let out a huff of amusement before changing the subject to the rest of the day’s agenda. The sheer variety of issues that needed to be addressed—from civil unrest to food supply logistics to making plans for Jabal-Alma’s integration into Tal’Qamari society—was quite daunting. It was clear that Zareth needed to find himself a proper administrator who knew what they were doing to handle the settlement’s day-to-day affairs.

As competent as he may be, the life of a veterinarian turned street rat turned cult leader didn’t exactly grant him a wealth of experience as a governor. The easiest way to do so would be to solicit the help of House Vhelan, but Zareth wasn’t eager to hand over such a crucial position to someone of dubious loyalty.

It’ll probably be best if I find an appropriate administrator from the Tessik instead, Zareth mused as his mind began to wander. They need me too much to betray me lightly, and they’ll start trickling people into Jabal-Alma as soon as High Command allows migration to captured territories regardless.

However, that would have to wait until after he temporarily handed Jabal-Alma over to whoever High Command was sending and returned to Tal’Qamar. Until then, Zareth still had plenty of work to do if he wanted this place to be in any shape to hand over.

“All right. Unless there’s anything else, I think it’s time that I go speak to those ‘certain parties,’” Zareth said as he finished signing the last document on his desk and handed it to the major. “Archmage Agnazir has graciously allowed me time from his schedule to discuss a few matters. I’ll be sure to ask if he can contribute a little more to Jabal-Alma’s security while he’s still here, but I wouldn’t get my hopes up if I were you.”

“I’m a soldier, Lord-Marshal. My hopes are always in the sinkhole,” Major Idris said with a small smirk as he took the requisition form and snapped into a crisp salute, as was appropriate for Zareth’s new title.

Zareth nodded and waited for the major to leave before he gathered his thoughts and started to make his way out of the former chieftain’s office. A human soldier around the same age as Zareth quietly fell into step behind him the moment he stepped into the corridor. Private Naveed took the role of his guard as he walked through the hallways of what had now become the temporary headquarters for Tal’Qamari operations in Jabal-Alma.

It was strange being protected by someone other than Rizok, but manpower was too low and his friend was too capable an asset for him to act as a simple bodyguard. Rizok was instead keeping a close eye on the captives with his [Aura of Greater Perception] while Vidhatri was busy ascertaining how pliant the locals would be to joining a moderately less evil cult.

But judging from the hateful glares that were immediately sent in Zareth’s direction as soon as he stepped out onto the streets of Jabal-Alma, he wasn’t all that hopeful. The outright hostility almost had him shrinking back, but a combination of pride and his [Leadership] skill caused Zareth to straighten his back and hold his head high.

As he began walking as confidently as he could toward the no longer artificially darkened tunnels that would take him to the Nephalan ruins, he noticed that his guard was extremely tense and kept constantly glancing backward toward the angry locals.

“I won’t say that you should relax, Private Naveed, but try not to look as if you’re expecting an arrow to come flying at us at any moment,” said Zareth, voice calm as he tried to ease the mind of his guard. “Major Idris wouldn’t have assigned you to this position on your own if there was any immediate danger that we couldn’t handle. You’re a decently leveled soldier, and I’m not exactly easy to kill.”

Private Naveed seemed surprised that Zareth had actually spoken to him, but the young soldier took a deep breath before offering him a grateful nod. “I’ll keep that in mind, Lord-Marshal. Just hard not to be wary considerin’ what these bastards did to our people. I’d rather be on the front lines than surrounded by a bunch of cultist frea—uh, no offense meant to you, of course.”

Offense slightly taken.

“Yes, well, the vast majority of the locals weren’t aware of the Cult of the Unfettered One’s true activities,” said Zareth, keeping his expression neutral as the angry and fearful civilians split to either side of the streets when they saw him approaching. “Chieftain Murog and the other Elders simply described them as foreign mages who could help with their magic dependency. The cult would recruit from the locals, and their family members would often wear particular heraldry to show support, but there was apparently a great deal of secrecy about what was actually going on.”

Private Naveed seemed doubtful but accepted his words and gradually stopped glancing around so nervously.

Zareth didn’t really blame the guy for his skepticism. According to the reports he was receiving from the interrogators, it was starting to seem that Jabal-Alma had a widespread culture of simply ignoring inconvenient signs of their leadership’s nefarious activities. That was awfully convenient for Zareth if he wanted to do something in secret, but as the leader of a not-so-evil cult, he had some slight reservations about the kind of people who would turn a blind eye to the Cult of the Unfettered One.

Nothing of note occurred as Zareth walked through the streets of Jabal-Alma and passed by the large stone elemental guarding the tunnels that led to the Nephalan ruins. Zareth had no idea how the thing recognized friend from foe, but he was glad not to be squashed into a puddle of meat with its serpentine tail.

After seeing Archmage Agnazir in action, Zareth was excruciatingly aware that his self-claimed label of “difficult to kill” didn’t universally apply.

The journey through the tunnels was uneventful, with a single Tal’Qamari patrol respectfully saluting Zareth as he passed them by. Archmage Agnazir had dispelled the magical darkness that once protected the tunnels, so none of them had any problems following the recently erected signs pointing the way to the Nephalan ruins.

Once they finally stepped through into the large cavern that housed said ruins, Zareth was greeted by a sight much different from the one Vidhatri had first seen during her infiltration.

Gone were the robed cultists excavating the ancient Nephalan city and conducting dark rituals. Instead, the massive floating crystal, which had once served as the centerpiece of their rituals, had been completely shattered by Archmage Agnazir. It had apparently been instrumental in maintaining the illusion around Shabail’s Pass, and its pieces were now being carefully cataloged by a group of [Scholars] wearing the heraldry of House Kavasa. It felt a bit strange to Zareth that Agnazir had taken the time to transport non-combatants all the way from Tal’Qamar, but he’d developed the impression that the archmage was heavily invested in magical research.

This was exemplified by the fact that Agnazir had insisted that the ritual site be left… entirely undisturbed.

“Ugh. Fuckin’ bastards,” Private Naveed cursed with a look of disgust on his face as he stared at the corpses that were still impaled on the ritual site’s pedestals and the [Scholars] impassively studying them.

“Indeed. The Cult of the Unfettered One is just as depraved as everyone claimed,” said Zareth, his tone carrying particular emphasis as he mentioned the cult and glanced meaningfully between Private Naveed and the nearly invisible air elementals flying just above. “Hopefully Archmage Agnazir and his research can learn more and help us prevent such atrocities in the future.”

Zareth nearly let out a sigh of relief when Private Naveed seemed to pick up on his subtext and followed his gaze toward the air elementals, expression shifting to one of caution and then careful neutrality as the young soldier fell silent. Zareth was glad for it; while he didn’t know Archmage Agnazir well enough to guess how he would react to petty insults, it would be best to avoid offending him.

With that settled, Zareth began making his way toward the portion of the ruins that had been cleared away by the cultists to house modern installations. Archmage Agnazir had apparently decided that there was little of value in the structures that had once been there because he himself had leveled them completely and raised a massive stone mansion in its place.

Unnaturally smooth roads of stone wound through all the important sections of the ruins, with a variety of elementals transporting all manner of excavated items back to the mansion that served as the archmage’s makeshift research facility.

Although, I’m not sure that this could be called “makeshift,” Zareth thought wryly as he scanned his gaze over the expansive infrastructure that hadn’t existed just a few days ago. I suppose it’s not enough that he could destroy a small city by himself, but he could probably create it anew as well. How absurd.

Zareth instructed Private Naveed to wait outside once he reached the stone mansion—an order which the young soldier seemed more than glad to obey—and stepped inside.

While the exterior appeared no different from the luxurious residences in the Sunstone Heights, the mansion’s interior was clearly designed with functionality in mind. All of the walls had been removed in favor of a vast open laboratory filled with carefully organized magical instruments—many of which Zareth recognized as being extraordinarily expensive. Excavated artifacts had been cataloged and stored along the perimeter, and several crystallizing corpses in various states of examination were placed atop long tables, each accompanied by detailed notes and sketches.

Zareth couldn’t help but feel a trace of envy that Agnazir was able to establish a laboratory better than his own in the middle of nowhere with so little effort, but he quickly pushed those thoughts aside as he spotted the archmage himself in the midst of his research.

The archmage was on the far side of the room, dispassionately looking down at a male lizardkin stripped of any clothes and almost entirely covered in crystalline protrusions. A nearby quill floated in the air, scribbling notes onto a parchment while numerous magical instruments flew around the subject and disturbed the Etherveil as they performed unknown functions.

All the while, the archmage radiated an aura more intense than any that Zareth had ever encountered. If General Nasrith felt to Zareth like a carefully controlled inferno that would burn him to ash if provoked, then Agnazir felt like an inexorable cataclysm that wouldn’t even notice his presence as it destroyed everything for miles around.

Even if he hadn’t seen it firsthand, he couldn’t imagine ever doubting the archmage’s power.

Zareth waited several moments for Archmage Agnazir to acknowledge him, but he realized that the naga was too engrossed in his work. Deciding that he needed to make the first move, Zareth cleared his throat and addressed the leader of House Kavasa as politely as he could. “Good afternoon, Archma⁠—”

“Quiet.”

Zareth’s greeting died in his throat as Agnazir silenced him with a single word. Before he could even react to the rude interruption, the archmage suddenly tilted his head as if he had just realized something and turned his slit pupils directly toward Zareth.

“Hmph. You’re Marilith’s human. The one who serves the foreign god of flesh,” said Archmage Agnazir, his words rapid and direct as his expression grew thoughtful. “I recall being annoyed that House Vhelan purchased a rare thaumaturgic catalyzer last month on your cult’s behalf. This implies experience in magical research. Your patron’s domain implies a focus on biology. Is this correct?”

“Uh…” Zareth elegantly began before managing to collect himself. “Yes, Archmage Agnazir. That’s correct. Is there anyth⁠—”

He was once again interrupted as the naga casually waved a hand, causing Zareth to be dragged across the room by a sudden gust of wind and positioning him on the other side of the table.

“Your abilities will be useful. I will tolerate conversation so long as you are assisting me,” said Archmage Agnazir, his tone imperious as he dismissively looked away from Zareth and turned his attention back to the lizardkin. “Open the subject’s abdomen until you reach the thoracic cavity. Initial observation suggests that crystallization ceases abruptly at the external intercostal muscles, and I wish to understand why.”

Zareth hesitated for a moment before deciding that he had nothing to lose. It wasn’t like he didn’t open up corpses in his free time, and Agnazir agreeing to actually speaking with him was better than being ignored or brushed off entirely.

“Of course, Archmage. Though I’m surprised that this is something you’d need my assistance with,” said Zareth as he placed a hand on the lizardkin’s chest and willed their flesh to neatly part.

“The crystals, preliminarily designated as Ethershards, have demonstrated abnormal sensitivity to ambient Ether, meaning that typical dissection spells risk contaminating the sample,” said the archmage, his tone analytical as he fixed his eyes firmly on the subject. “A curious attribute given that confidential research undertaken by Veilspire Academy has determined that the cultist’s unique teleportation magic involves transportation through leylines. Standard theories imply exposure to such a potent source of Ether would drastically affect the Ethershards in unpredictable fashion. Yet they still went to such great lengths to harvest them.”

That part of Zareth that had always been desperate to learn everything he could about this world lit up with curiosity, and he found it difficult to stop himself from bombarding Agnazir with questions.

The archmage seemed a bit more long-winded now that he was actually willing to speak, so Zareth may as well take advantage.

“I’m surprised that you have a close enough relationship with the Eldamiri academies to access their confidential research,” said Zareth as he carefully removed the flesh around a particularly large Ethershard at the archmage’s instruction before settling on his chosen path of inquiry. “I have only ever seen vague references to leylines as rivers of Ether that run through the world. I didn’t know that they could be directly interacted with like that. Would it be possible to harness them in other ways as well?”

He’d attempted to learn more about leylines after first hearing about them, but the topic was either highly esoteric or under some kind of censorship.

“You seek an alternative source of Ether to sustain this population of aberrant ogres to replace the Ethershards,” said Archmage Agnazir offhandedly as he cast a series of spells on the crystal, somehow immediately determining Zareth’s intentions. “A logical course of action, but a fruitless one. Leylines are extremely difficult to detect or harness by any conventional means. This is why I decided that it was worth accepting Nasrith’s request and stealing Veilspire Academy’s research into the cult. I’d recommend substituting Ethershards with either Sunstones or creating more of those Etheric Organs that you’ve integrated into your body.”

Zareth felt a wave of disappointment because he wasn’t able to find an easy way to address the abnormal condition of Jabal-Alma’s residents, but it was quickly overshadowed when he registered the rest of Agnazir’s comments. It wasn’t really a surprise to him that a literal Archmage could sense Zareth’s magical organs, but it hadn’t really occurred to him that Meldorath’s Heart could be a potential solution.

Not only was it practical, but it would also make it much easier for the Cult of Cerebon to spread its influence in Jabal-Alma. After all, who wouldn’t feel grateful to the religion responsible for literally keeping you alive?

A series of ideas for magical organs that passively absorbed ambient Ether flashed through Zareth’s mind before he pushed them aside. Now wasn’t the best time to get lost in his thoughts, and there was something else that Agnazir had said which he wanted to ask about.

“Thank you for the suggestions, Archmage, but… why would you admit to stealing from Veilspire Academy to someone you barely even know?” asked Zareth, deeply confused about the naga’s actions.

Agnazir wasn’t at all what he had expected from the leader of a Great House. There had been several occasions when the archmage acted as if he didn’t care about conventional political wisdom or the potential repercussions of his actions.

Archmage Agnazir paused in his examination, and a thoughtful expression crossed his features for several moments before he seemed to come to some sort of decision.

Before he understood what was happening, Agnazir’s gaze had fixed on him with such intensity that it caused Zareth’s hair to stand on end and his body to freeze as though he was prey caught in the stare of a predator. The archmage’s already terrifying aura grew until Zareth felt as if he were being suffocated by the sheer force of it.

He tried to break eye contact, but his body refused to move no matter how much he tried, and he began to feel a strange sensation that he couldn’t quite describe. Eventually, Agnazir seemed to finally achieve whatever result he was seeking, and the oppressive force keeping Zareth immobilized abruptly dissipated, allowing him to stumble back and take several deep, shuddering breaths.

Zareth pushed past his fear to look back at Agnazir, expecting some kind of explanation for his actions. Instead, he saw the archmage had turned his attention back to his work and was casually reading through the research notes taken by the floating quill. Zareth took a moment to gather his thoughts and regain his composure before deciding to confront the archmage.

“What did you just do? Were yo—Did you try to read my mind?” Zareth asked incredulously as he suddenly identified the strange sensation that he’d felt during… whatever had just happened.

“Among other things,” Archmage Agnazir admitted without the slightest hint of shame or concern. “What you felt was me casting a variety of diagnostic spells—though the one that most heavily affected you was the one meant to access your System information. The System interfaces with individuals primarily through the soul, so the spell to access it is invariably unsettling. If it’s any consolation, the artifact protecting your mind was surprisingly effective at resisting my intrusion.”

Zareth recognized that the naga was referring to the ring gifted to him by the Tessik, which doubled as a telepathy and mind-protecting artifact crafted to protect their secrets. It was relieving to know that it worked, but that relief was hard to feel over his outrage.

“And why exactly did you feel that it was appropriate to do something so intrusive and steal such private information?” asked Zareth through gritted teeth, barely stopping himself from yelling at the archmage who could kill him with a mere thought.

“Several reasons. The first of which being that there’s absolutely nothing you could do to stop me or retaliate against House Kavasa,” Archmage Agnazir said with a calmness that was as infuriating as it was chilling. “Which is also why I rarely make any effort to conceal my actions or play the usual political games with those beneath me. As for why I chose to cast those spells on you specifically, I wanted to know more about the ambitious human who caught Marilith’s attention and elevated themselves from a street rat to someone of your station in so little time.”

Zareth’s first thought as Agnazir finished speaking and dismissively continued reading was that the archmage might possibly be one of the most deeply arrogant people that he had met in either life.

His second thought was that nothing the naga had said was actually unreasonable given the circumstances and vast gulf in power between them.

That realization only further fueled Zareth’s desire to prove Agnazir wrong and grow to a point that no one—not even an Archmage—could treat him so casually. He’d grown closer to that goal than he dreamed possible just a few short years ago, but that journey was far from over, and he had little choice but to swallow his pride.

“And? Did you actually learn anything that justifies your invasive investigation?” Zareth said with only a bit of venom in his voice as he attempted to maintain a facade of composure.

“Simply that your class is marginally more interesting than expected and that the System is making accommodations to your soul for a budding Ruler class,” said Agnazir, as he set aside the parchment he was reading. He then began slithering to the other side of the laboratory, where an array of complex instruments was being put into place by several dozen stone arms that emerged from the mansion. “I fail to see any exceptional characteristics worthy of Marilith’s attention, but I suppose you’re adequately competent and know your place well enough to suppress your anger in my presence. That and my agreement with House Vhelan is enough for me to offer you some compensation in the name of quenching your petty resentment, I suppose.”

Before Zareth could ask about the connection between souls and the System or what Agnazir meant by “compensation,” one of the stone arms emerged directly at his side while holding a parchment-sized tablet filled with densely written text on its surface. Zareth glanced skeptically at the archmage before taking the tablet and examining it more closely.

When one of the first words he read was Kethr’syssen, he couldn’t help but feel alarmed and immediately turned his attention back to the archmage. “How did⁠—”

“You severely underestimate the capabilities of the Great Houses if you honestly believed that we weren’t closely monitoring you and the rest of Tal’Qamar’s new religions after finally expelling the Conclave,” Agnazir drawled, interrupting him with a hint of impatience. “Your attempts at subtlety were… endearing, but my [Spies] know everything about the subjects you’ve endeavored to learn more about. From Leyline Nexuses, or Kethr’syssen as they referred to in Seshani, to House Kavasa’s heraldry—which you’ve doubtlessly noticed has similarities to heraldry used by the locals. Answers to those questions and many more that you’ve shown interest in are contained on that tablet. Your gratitude is, of course, presumed but entirely unnecessary.”

Rendered speechless with surprise, Zareth stared at the naga for several moments before looking back to the tablet. It didn’t take long before he realized that Agnazir hadn’t exaggerated at all about the depth of information that it contained.

He had spent months writing letters and soliciting all of the [Scholars] that he could find, to no avail.

He had spent more gold coins than most people from the slums would see in their lifetimes purchasing the few books on magical theory outside of the Eldamari Academies’ tightly guarded libraries but had little success.

Zareth had honestly expended every possible effort that he could to answer some of the questions, and now Archmage Agnazir had so casually provided him those answers on a whim.

That, just as much as the absurd show of force that he had witnessed a few days prior, demonstrated to Zareth exactly how vast the gap between him and the Great Houses truly was.

Atavistic Apostle has reached Level 27! Skill Point gained!

“Ah, you’ve leveled up. I’d already known from your System information and general interest in history that your class progressed most quickly through the acquisition of knowledge, but it’s useful to confirm my theories,” said Agnazir, briefly looking up from preparing his array of magical instruments to glance at Zareth with a flicker of curiosity. “I’d insist that you spend that Skill Point now, but I don’t subscribe to my people’s superstitions. Regardless, I trust that your acrimony has been assuaged with this development?”

He knew that later he would be thrilled by the valuable information that he had just been given and to have gained a level. But in this moment, Zareth’s mouth felt like it was filled with ash as he forced himself to thank someone who treated him with such disregard that it was as if he were once again a [Street Urchin] being thrown a coin by a passing [Merchant].

“Yes, Archmage. Your gift is appreciated,” Zareth managed to say, his voice kept as neutral as possible.

“Good. Then you are dismissed,” Archmage Agnazir said with an air of finality as he looked back to his work. “I have no more use for you, and your questions have been addressed. Go speak to my subordinates if you’re still seeking aid with the threat that the human officer mentioned to you earlier.”

At this point, Zareth couldn’t muster any surprise that the archmage knew a detail about the meeting with Major Idris that even he had forgotten to mention. Zareth allowed none of his frustration to show as he nodded to the archmage and quietly began making his way out of the mansion.

For the second time in just a few days, his estimation of the Great Houses and the influence they wielded had been significantly recalibrated. The first time this happened, he’d been too filled with awe at Archmage Agnazir’s display of power and the subsequent deluge of work that had been dumped on his lap to really react.

But now, after reality had once again slapped him in the face, Zareth felt an urge to do whatever he could to make sure it didn’t happen again.

And the first step on that road would be to return to Tal’Qamar so that he could arrange for everything he needed to turn Jabal-Alma into a place that could truly serve as the seat of the Cult of Cerebon’s power.

General Nasrith allowed the scimitar of the Jalasan [Dervish Warrior] to shatter across his cuirass before instantly wrapping his tail around her neck and snapping it like a twig.

He then threw the corpse in the path of a glowing arrow aimed at his back, causing the enchanted projectile to detonate as it hit the corpse and send a shower of gore splattering across the battlefield. Nasrith ignored this and swiftly slaughtered the rest of the glory-hungry fools who’d abandoned their positions to focus on attacking the enemy general.

The battle between the Tal’Qamari and Jalasan soldiers had been going on for several hours and Nasrith could tell from the enemy’s flagging stamina that it would soon conclude. The Tal’Qamari side possessed higher Vitality stats on average, which meant the Jalasans would need to retreat if they hoped to avoid a complete rout.

This is what happens when you allow a long peace to lead you to complacency, Nasrith thought as he sneered down at the corpses of the undisciplined vermin. He then turned his attention toward the exposed point in the enemy lines they had created in their half-witted assault.

He was not so kind that he would not exploit such a blatant mistake. Especially when the Jalasan army, with aid from the Conclave, had attempted to ambush Nasrith’s forces in the middle of the night. The [Priests] of Sarqalim, God of the Twilight Moon, had even used their powers to hide the Jalasan approach so that Nasrith’s [Scouts] would fail to detect them.

It was admittedly a wise course of action, as all of the Jalasan’s previous attempts to directly engage them and break the siege of Fal’Ashar had ended in failure.

However, the spirits summoned by the contingent of [Shamans] sent by the Way of Gendal had spotted the attack long before it could be effectively sprung. Much like most of the Great Houses, the Conclave had grown complacent in their power and would soon suffer the consequences of their hubris.

[Bolster Unit: Heavy Infantry]. [Exploit Vulnerability]. [Instantaneous Charge].

Nasrith watched with satisfaction as his heavy infantry—their armor glinting under the moonlight and the glowing orbs summoned by his [War Mages]—immediately fell under the influence of skills and launched a brutal assault against the enemy lines. [Instantaneous Charge] took them from a relative standstill to moving with the same momentum as if they had been charging down a dune, allowing the heavy infantry to cut down the Jalasans with ruthless efficiency and stomp over their corpses.

The battle had fallen into a stalemate after the Jalasan [General] realized that his ambush had failed and repositioned his forces into a defensive stance, but that deadlock was now crumbling.

It hadn’t taken long for the enemy [General] to respond with a [Reposition Unit] that directed a group of [Shieldbearers] to blunt the Tal’Qamari charge, but the damage was already done. Tal’Qamari [War Mages] were superior to those of every other city-state in the Qahtani Desert save Fal’Ashar, which meant they could simultaneously counterspell the enemy’s attempt at offensive magic while directing devastating spells against the now-thinned Jalasan lines.

[Resist Magic: Heavy Infantry].

Nasrith didn’t even need to issue any orders before lightning streaked across the battlefield and struck the Jalasan infantry, instantly cooking many of them within their metal armor. [Chain Lightning] wasn’t a spell that was used casually in war due to the extreme risk of friendly fire, but the magic tended to follow the path of least resistance, and because of [Resist Magic], Nasrith’s troops were left relatively unharmed.

“General, permission to deploy the Blood Sacs? Colonel Verek reports that the Jalasans are likely to soon order a retreat,” Lieutenant Colonel Anaya said calmly, her eyes closed in focus as she stood at his side and sorted through the torrent of long-distance messages that she was receiving.

Nasrith would normally handle such messages himself, but there was a good reason why he needed to avoid any distractions and retain his ability to react on short notice. He ignored the lieutenant colonel’s request and looked across the increasingly bloodstained dunes to the enemy leadership, using [Battlefield Vision] to see unobstructed through the night.

Standing next to the Jalasan [General], a naga of middling competence who was better at holding power than fighting wars, were several figures wearing ornamental robes that caused Nasrith to feel a strange combination of disdain and caution.

Even if he looked down on the Conclave, the power wielded by those who devoted themselves to deities was not to be underestimated. High Prophet Venthys had recently begun directing the Conclave to more heavily participate in the conflict, and it had already caused a shift in the dynamics in several skirmishes and across the southern front.

Even now, Nasrith could tell that the enemy was sustaining far fewer casualties than normal due to the [Priests] of Nuriel, God of Restoration, healing their wounded. It was difficult enough planning around [War Mages], but the addition of the Conclave’s meddling introduced a level of unpredictability that left Nasrith cautious.

“Permission granted,” Nasrith eventually said, despite having little hope that the Blood Sacs would actually prevent a retreat. “But instruct the colonel to remain vigilant for potential countermeasures from the Conclave. My instincts tell me that they have a few surprises in store for us.”

Lieutenant Colonel Anaya nodded stoically as she relayed the orders. Before long, the [Aeromancers], under the cover of illusions, had successfully positioned themselves above the enemy’s most likely path of retreat and began releasing the Blood Sacs. Much like in the extremely successful Battle of the Bleeding Sands, the Blood Sacs began burrowing into the ground and started releasing the viscous liquid contained within.

However, Nasrith’s suspicions were confirmed when an alarmed lieutenant colonel suddenly shared an urgent report. “General, the Desharin are sensing a massive build-up of Divine Essence and significant subterranean movement. They believe that the Conclave must have snuck more of their people among the Jalasans than expected!”

It took a single moment for Nasrith to analyze the situation and settle on the enemy’s most likely intentions. Only Suhail, God of Sand and Sun, possessed a domain capable of causing dramatic underground movement.

[Commanding Edict]!

“All forces, prepare for widespread terrain manipulation! All [War Mages] and Desharin are to focus entirely on stabilizing the surrounding sands against enemy control! Long-range units are to direct attacks agains⁠—”

Nasrith didn’t get the chance to finish relaying his commands before the sands beneath their feet began to shake ominously and caused him to stumble. The Jalasans—likely under the influence of a retreat skill—abruptly began their withdrawal on seemingly stable ground even as massive walls of sand erupted all around the Tal’Qamari side of the battlefield. Nasrith could see his forces sinking as the sands were pulled from the desert and rose until they stretched nearly fifty feet into the sky.

These walls then began to fall toward Nasrith’s army, threatening to crush and suffocate them all under several tons of sand.

A lesser military might have panicked when confronted by such an overwhelming magical attack, but Nasrith’s forces began responding as soon as he started issuing his orders.

The [War Mages] began working in concert with the Desharin’s elementals to seize control over the surrounding terrain, causing the shaking dunes to calm significantly and the wall of sand to shrink considerably before it impacted the Tal’Qamari forces. By the time the Conclave’s attack reached them, it was barely large enough to knock over a few of Nasrith’s already braced soldiers rather than bury them completely.

The [Archers] then immediately began unleashing volleys of arrows on the Jalasans, acting on Nasrith’s interrupted orders. Unfortunately, their attack was promptly blocked by another wall of sand that rose to cover their retreat.

“General, should we pursue?” asked Lieutenant Colonel Anaya once the ground ceased shaking. It didn’t take long for Nasrith to study the battlefield and decide on a response.

“No. At the speed they’re moving, the Jalasan [General] likely used [Expeditious Retreat],” said General Nasrith as he watched the enemy become more and more difficult to see under the cover of the night. “Even if I used [Coordinated Movement] to prepare our forces for pursuit and [Rapid Movement] to enhance our speed, I doubt that we could catch them before Sarqalim makes them impossible to track. Not to mention the presence of Suhail’s worshippers means that they could easily leave behind plenty of traps in their wake.”

It was likely also why the Blood Sacs hadn’t made any difference, as Suhail’s worshippers had more than likely crushed them moments after they burrowed into the sand.

The longer Nasrith analyzed the aftermath of the battle, the more he felt as if the Jalasan’s had come out better than he had first judged. The enemy’s ambush had failed, but they had managed a very successful retreat, and their losses were minimal due to their access to healing capabilities on the battlefield. Even if the Cult of Cerebon could match the Priesthood of Nuriel in healing abilities, the former simply hadn’t grown to the point that Nasrith could comfortably draft its members to the battlefield.

Yet.

As Nasrith returned to his tent and went over the battle with his [Strategists] to learn what lessons they could, that was a recurring point that they all returned to. The disparity between the Hierophant’s Council and the Conclave would become more and more of a detriment to Tal’Qamar’s war effort. If Tal’Qamar’s [War Mages] hadn’t been thoroughly trained by House Kavasa in geomancy, then the Desharin’s assistance wouldn’t have been enough to counter the worshipers of Suhail.

While Nasrith’s forces had ultimately won the battle, he could easily envision a potential future where the scales might not tip so favorably and result in catastrophic consequences. There were too many examples in history of a superior military force being undone by a surprising tactic they didn’t see coming or some manner of magical assault they could not counter for Nasrith to feel comfortable.

As his meeting dragged on and eventually came to an end, Nasrith was left alone in his tent to ponder on what he had learned from this battle. Strategies were formed, discarded, and reconsidered as his mind raced with ideas on how to best prevent the Conclave from turning the tide.

Nearly an hour later and with a plan in mind, Nasrith instructed the officer responsible for arranging long-distance communications to arrange for a meeting with Lady Marilith. With the changing realities on the battlefield and the leverage he now had over the Cult of Cerebon, he felt that it was time for several plans to move forward earlier than initially anticipated.

Plans which would ensure Nasrith had everything he needed to win this war and spread Tal’Qamar’s influence all the way to the Western Divide.

Chapter 14

Zareth had been beyond relieved when the reinforcements from Tal’Qamar had finally arrived, along with a capable [Military Administrator] ready to help him bring the settlement under order.

He had been even more relieved once matters had been settled enough that he could finally set out on his journey back to more civilized lands, where he wasn’t surrounded by pale-skinned ogres eager to see him dead.

It was then that General Nasrith’s aptitude as a leader demonstrated itself, as Archmage Agnazir revealed that a part of his agreement with High Command included delivering Zareth and his companions to Tal’Qamar in short order. This was a massive assistance, as it meant Zareth wouldn’t have to trek through the harsh desert sun for several weeks or risk being attacked on the way back.

While he might have left Tal’Qamar with an itch for adventure, assassination attempts, evil cultists, and overbearing Archmages had left it more than satisfied. Zareth honestly couldn’t wait to return to the safety of his spire and relax for a while… at least until he needed to deal with all the nonsense that would no doubt come his way.

Zareth’s only complaint was that he had to leave behind most of his retinue in Jabal-Alma and not all of his companions seemed to share his good mood—although that could probably be understood given Archmage Agnazir’s chosen means of transportation.

“By the Weaver’s grace, how much longer until we arrive?!” Vidhatri bellowed over the roaring winds, all four of her eyes closed.

“I’ve passed through these lands on enough military campaigns to recognize that we’re close. We passed by Tal’Hadin several hours ago, and the mountains along the Emperor’s Range are gradually growing shorter, meaning we are close to Qamar’s Gorge! We should be fast approaching Tal’Qamar.”

“How you can stand looking at our surroundings, I’ll never know. Shivarath were not meant to fly through the air as if we were Talonfolk!”

“If you’re afraid, I’ll be perfectly willing to comfort you when we land.”

“Shut up, heathen!”

Of all the people Zareth would have guessed to be afraid of heights, Vidhatri would have been last on the list. But Rizok was definitely enjoying the opportunity to relentlessly tease her about it.

Archmage Agnazir had arrived in Jabal-Alma so quickly by flying across the desert while being carried by air elementals, which Zareth and his companions were now experiencing themselves. It was certainly much faster and more convenient, but being held aloft nearly fifty feet in the air by an invisible creature outside of your control was not everyone’s idea of a pleasant journey.

“Could the two of you wait to stop flirting until I’m not around!” Zareth shouted over the wind, causing Vidhatri to briefly glare at him before immediately flinching at the view and shutting her eyes again.

Rizok merely let out a boisterous laugh, enjoying himself much more than either of them. “Envy doesn’t suit you, Zareth. Maybe you’d be less bothered by our affection if you’d allowed yourself some pleasure in Jabal-Alma.”

Zareth’s face involuntarily twisted in distaste as he recalled all of the propositions that he had received after the citizens of Jabal-Alma realized he wasn’t going to impose draconian measures. Many of the more influential families saw no issue at all with attempting to curry favors and were very blunt about their intentions.

The vast majority of their leaders had been either killed or arrested for working with the Cult of the Unfettered One, so their families were desperate to maintain what influence they could.

He wasn’t exactly a prude… but Zareth wasn’t all that interested in being thrown around like a piece of meat by a seven-foot-tall ogre woman who would then expect him to repay her with political favors. Living for more than two decades in a fantasy world with permissive views on sex and multiple non-human races had made him a bit more open-minded, but the overt political maneuvering just made it feel gross.

It certainly didn’t help when one of the clan’s leaders had concluded that he must prefer men after Zareth turned down one too many of his daughters and decided to… take matters into his own hands.

He shuddered as Rizok’s laughter grew louder, likely guessing that he was recalling that incident with that burly ogre elder even if he was too kind to bring up the details.

Unfortunately, Vidhatri had no such reservations.

“Indeed! To indulge in the pleasures of flesh is a perfectly acceptable means of worshiping the Weave of Sinews,” said Vidhatri, a teasing smirk across her lips as she spoke in Zareth’s general direction. “And Elder Korgul certainly had an impressive amount of flesh for you to enj⁠—”

Vidhatri’s words were cut off as Zareth activated his Minor Decrease Gravity Sigil and sent her suddenly hurtling upward with an uncharacteristic cry of panic.

Zareth eyed Rizok threateningly, who merely chuckled and raised his hands in surrender as the air elemental carrying Vidhatri gradually got itself back under control.

“You. Even if you’re Cerebon’s chosen, I will repay you for this insult,” Vidhatri said once she returned to their side. Zareth would have normally been much more threatened by the Senior Fleshwarper’s words, but it was hard to feel that way when she looked like she was about to vomit.

“I’m sure Rizok’s more than willing to endure you venting your frustration,” Zareth said with a smug smirk as he glanced toward the lizardkin. “Besides, you should do your best to get over your fear of heights. Once we return to Tal’Qamar, I intend to invest my time in figuring out how to finally give myself some working wings. This is far too convenient for me to give up, and I doubt Agnazir will be there to create an elemental whenever I need to go somewhere.”

Not only would he need a reliable means of traveling from Tal’Qamar to his territory in the south in the future, but Zareth simply relished the chance to avoid potential ambushes while enjoying the beautiful view.

The Qahtani Desert stretched out endlessly beneath them, a vast canvas of shifting sands and towering dunes that seemed to dance with the wind. His third eye only enhanced his wonder, allowing him to see far off into the distance until the curvature of the planet itself limited his view. He could spot the brilliant magical aura of the creatures hiding and moving in the sands, creating a magnificent spectacle.

Even now he could see a team of Adventurers off in the distance fighting against a Lesser Sandwyrm. Zareth didn’t think he’d ever be satisfied spending weeks traveling the desert now that he’d experienced the convenience of flight.

“You’d be better off hiring a sufficiently high-level [Artificer] to craft you a flying artifact. I doubt you’ll be able to spend much time in your laboratory,” said Rizok, cruelly reminding him about the long list of tasks awaiting him in Tal’Qamar. “Though it’d likely cost you a mountain of gold. There’s a good reason that High Command prefers training [Aeromancers] for aerial operations rather than using such artifacts.”

Zareth knew that Rizok was likely right that he wouldn’t have much time to spend in the laboratory. A decent chunk of his time would be spent fulfilling the terms of his agreement with General Nasrith, dealing with various administrative tasks, and talking with the Tessik about what he’d learned from the slate given to him by Agnazir.

Even what time he did spend in the laboratory would need to prioritize the creation of an organ capable of feeding Jabal-Alma’s Ether-eating populace. And that wasn’t even taking into account his upcoming conversation with Cerebon, which he could only pray didn’t result in him delving into another ancient temple.

I definitely need to start delegating some of these tasks. My responsibilities keep growing, and it won’t be possible for me to continue like this for much longer.

“Cerebon be blessed! Finally!”

Vidhatri’s exclamation drew Zareth’s attention away from his thoughts, and he followed her gaze to the silhouette of a familiar city in the distance. From the Desharin and their sand elementals moving about in their district north of the city to the majestic, elegant tall structures rising from the Spire Garden to the glittering waters of the oasis that sustained the city, the sight of Tal’Qamar was honestly like a balm to Zareth’s soul.

A part of him had always… held himself separate from the people here due to his having lived an entirely different life, but he hadn’t realized just how much Tal’Qamar had etched itself into his bones until this moment.

It wasn’t the fairest of cities. It didn’t take care of its people as well as Zareth thought it should, and its politics were a nest of vipers waiting to strike at the first sign of weakness.

Yet despite all of that, Tal’Qamar was his home, and spending his time away only filled him with an urge to change it into a place worthy of his dreams and memories from his previous life. Zareth was brought back to reality when he felt a weight on his shoulder, before turning to see that Rizok floated to his side and was looking toward the city with a complicated expression.

“I felt the same way after I returned from my first military campaign abroad,” said Rizok, squeezing his shoulder gently. “Relieved to finally be home despite its many flaws. That… didn’t last, as those flaws gradually grew more apparent and frustrating with every passing year to the point that I no longer enjoyed seeing the city rising over the horizon. I didn’t believe I’d ever again feel the way I once did, but what you’ve managed to accomplish and the hope I have for what is to come have changed that. So… thank you.”

Rizok’s sincerity was palpable, and it filled Zareth’s heart with a mixture of warmth and embarrassment. It made sense that Rizok would be so excited, as they’d just finished a dangerous journey together and Zareth having de-facto secured Jabal-Alma meant that the Tessik would soon have territory where they could operate with a significantly lower risk of discovery.

Not to mention what the access to the Nephalan ruins would do for their goal of rediscovering and preserving lizardkin culture.

Still, Zareth wasn’t sure that he could withstand such intense praise. He was suddenly very grateful that he could control the capillaries in his face and stop himself from turning as red as an apple.

“You’re welcome, Rizok, and thank you for your support. I doubt that anyone else would have been able to keep me alive this long,” said Zareth, nodding toward his friend with a genuine gratitude before smirking slightly. “You’ll definitely have your work cut out for you on that account soon enough. I have a feeling that I’m going to be making a decent number of enemies in the near future.”

Rizok scoffed and rolled his eyes before responding. “Hmph. And this is different from our normal circumstances, how? If you could go more than six months without being attacked by [Assassins], I would be surprised and grateful.”

“No promises on that front,” Zareth said with a chuckle.

The two of them quietly enjoyed their moment of camaraderie for a while longer, Tal’Qamar growing closer with each passing second. At least… until the silence was broken by Vidhatri, with the shivarath studying them briefly before commenting.

“To be explicitly clear, I am not a person prone to sharing their bed partn⁠—”

Zareth ignored the sound of Vidhatri yelling as she once again went flying off into the distance, his Minor Decrease Gravity Sigil ensuring that she couldn’t give voice to whatever nonsense she was about to say.

As Tal’Qamar drew nearer, Zareth began to see [Scouts] along the walls pointing in their direction before a few [Aeromancers] were mobilized to protect the city’s airspace. Fortunately, Zareth had already warned High Command of his arrival ahead of time via his flesh golem and ensured that they would be given safe passage.

The approach to the city was carefully controlled by the [Aeromancers], who guided them to land at a designated area near High Command’s headquarters. A group of [War Mages] and [Investigators] were there waiting to ensure that they weren’t shapeshifters attempting to infiltrate the city in the most creative way possible or under some kind of magical compulsion. Zareth and his companions were quickly cleared and allowed to leave. He would eventually need to give High Command a proper debrief of everything that had happened—barely legible scribbles produced by a flesh golem weren’t the best way of communicating.

Lady Marilith had also requested that he visit her manor as soon as possible, but Zareth arranged for all of his various meetings to be pushed back until tomorrow.

Not only was he tired and wanted to return to his spire, but he could feel the weight of Cerebon’s attention settle over him the moment he entered Tal’Qamar.

The god had made it perfectly clear that he wanted to have a conversation when he granted Zareth [Cerebon’s Greater Boon], and he had a feeling that gods weren’t ones to accept being deprioritized.

Despite having had a presence through his eye golem in Tal’Qamar and keeping himself relatively informed about what was happening, Zareth still found himself somewhat surprised by the changes he noticed as he walked toward the Spire Gardens. It would’ve been difficult to pick them out if he hadn’t lived here for most of his life, but the people seemed marginally healthier, happier, and generally more attractive.

As he walked through the Spicebloom Bazaar, Zareth even noticed that some of the pedestrians had aesthetic features that were clearly unnatural for their races.

Humans with brightly colored hair, slit eyes like a lizardkin, or even beautifully colored scales along the sides of their face or on their shoulders. Several lizardkin had made modifications to their tails, such as adding spikes or elongating the tips beyond what was typical, while others had interesting symbols etched into their scales.

Zareth didn’t see any ogres with noticeable aesthetic modifications—which made sense given what he’d learned about Tal’Qamari ogres rejecting the magical adaptability of their species. He also didn’t see any naga who’d significantly changed their forms, though Zareth had a suspicion that was most likely due to a sense of superiority more than anything else.

Most of the aesthetic modifications that Zareth could see were relatively modest and at least appeared natural, but it was still surreal for him to see that so many people had taken part in his cult’s services.

“This… I’ve already seen the effectiveness of your cult’s strategy for dealing with heathens, and I always held faith in our god’s clear approval of your actions,” Vidhatri began, her tone a mixture of admiration and envy as her four eyes scanned their surroundings. “But to see the Weaver’s influence spread so thoroughly and with such easy acceptance among the populace…”

Vidhatri trailed off and left her statement unfinished, a rare moment of speechlessness from someone who was usually so composed. Zareth had always known that aesthetic augmentations would be extremely popular so long as the cult wasn’t seen in a poor light, but someone who had grown up in an entirely different context like Vidhatri wouldn’t have seen this coming.

One unexpected benefit of more people in Tal’Qamar having unnatural features was that Zareth and Vidhatri suddenly stood out far less than before, which allowed them to walk through the streets without being constantly followed by stares. It wasn’t long before Zareth and his companions arrived at the cult’s spire, which had gone through significant visual changes since Rizok and Vidhatri had last seen it.

“Impressive. This spire looks more and more like a proper home for the Weaver of Sinews servants with each passing day,” Vidhatri said with clear appreciation as she studied the layer of flesh creeping up the spire’s stone facade. “It shall not be long before every heathen in Tal’Qamar has a constant reminder of our god’s power.”

Since their departure from Tal’Qamar, the transformation of the spire had advanced notably, with about a third of it now a fusion of stone, flesh, and bone. This change amplified the Divine Essence emanating from the building, generating an aura that imbued Zareth with a sense of safety and belonging as he approached its entrance.

Naturally, this also enhanced the effects of his [Ritual of Sanctification], meaning Zareth could sense the occupants of the spire more accurately as well. Which was likely the only reason why he wasn’t overly surprised when he entered the spire’s main hall and an overly excited teenage boy came barreling toward him at a speed that was frankly unnecessary.

“Boss! You’re finally back!” Tamir exclaimed, crashing into him with a force that would have bowled him over if he hadn’t braced himself. Zareth awkwardly allowed himself to be hugged until the boy seemed to suddenly realize what he was doing and stepped back, his expression embarrassed even as his eyes shone with excitement. “Please, for the love of Cerebon, tell me that you’re taking back control over these lunatics. I don’t think I can handle this anymore!”

Zareth blinked slowly at Tamir’s dramatics before looking past him to the rest of the main hall.

The cult had been made aware that Zareth would be returning today and decided to throw a little welcoming party, which was why there were no long lines of Tal’Qamari citizens going in and out of the spire… but they had perhaps gone a little overboard in their celebration.

Onara, wearing long garments that she had apparently woven with sinew, was quite clearly drunk and arguing with a young [Cultist] who had mimicked her face and was mocking her by pretending to lecture a friend about Cerebon. Gurza was leaning back against a chair while throwing loaves of bread at a flubber-like gelatinous ball of flesh that was sticking to the ceiling—which responded by absorbing them whole and wiggling in apparent excitement.

Zareth had no idea if the creature was a member of the cult who had been transformed or an… abnormal attempt at creating a flesh golem, but he wasn’t sure if he wanted an answer.

The Pathfinders were also in attendance, but they also were joining the chaos as their human [Scout] Casper was currently cackling wildly while he webbed their lizardkin [Beast Tamer] Sefirah to the wall. He’d known that Casper had been showing more and more interest in joining the cult, but he hadn’t known that the Adventurer actually went through with it or that he’d chosen to have spinnerets added to his wrists.

And all of this was in the backdrop of the spire’s main hall, which had been turned almost entirely into flesh by Meldorath’s Heart and was filled with long tables full of food that the various members of the cult were eagerly partaking in.

Zareth decided right then and there that he would avoid sampling any of the meats being served.

Watching the scene in front of him, Zareth was beginning to think that he’d delegated too much of his flesh golem’s time to spying on the various other factions in Tal’Qamar and not enough on watching his own cult…

He should have known that a bunch of young [Cultists] who’d recently gained the power to manipulate flesh to their heart’s desire would likely go a bit overboard.

“Of course, Tamir. I’ll be taking back the reins now that I’ve returned,” said Zareth, clapping a hand on Tamir’s shoulder. The sheer relief and gratitude in the kid’s eyes almost made him reconsider what he was about to say. “Though I’ll need you to continue handling this party for a while longer while I go speak to Cerebon. It wouldn’t do to keep a god waiting, after all.”

The way Tamir’s expression shifted from relief to utter devastation was almost comical. But just as Zareth was about to skedaddle his way to the stairway leading to the top of the tower and leave behind the clown show that was his cult, he was suddenly accosted by a drunk old woman and pulled into the fray.

Zareth looked to Vidhatri and Rizok for help, but the two traitors merely snickered at him and left to enjoy the festivities on their own.

“Apostle Zareth, you’ve gotta show this… this lil’ disrespectin’ girl how to respect her elders and use our god’s powers proper-like,” Onara slurred, gesturing wildly at the young cultist who’d stolen her face. “Look at her, parading around with my face, spoutin’ rubbish. It’s downright sacrilegious, it is!”

Zareth chuckled as Onara dragged him across the room. “I’ve a feeling that there’s a lot of improper use of skills happening around here, but I don’t think our god considers it sacrilege.”

One of the reasons he allowed himself to be delayed from his conversation with Cerebon was because he could feel the god’s faint amusement. If Cerebon had actually been insulted, then Zareth would’ve already been shutting down the rampant nonsense going on.

Nevertheless, it was probably good for their cult to have a few rules about behavior, and he vaguely recalled that Tal’Qamar had actual laws against shapeshifting into someone without their consent.

Zareth spent a minute chastising the young [Cultist], which seemed to satisfy Onara and had her walking away to supposedly find a bottle of wine stolen by a flying cat.

As he watched her stumble away, Zareth shook his head and murmured under his breath. “I’ll have to remember to keep her away from alcohol. It makes her even more confrontational than usual.”

“Hmph. Doubt that’ll be necessary.”

Zareth was startled as he heard someone respond to his comment despite him speaking softly in a loud room and turned to see Gurza leaning back in her chair and looking at him with a sly smirk. She was far enough that Zareth probably wouldn’t have been able to trace the voice back without his enhanced senses, which was an advantage shared by other cult members that he probably should have kept in mind.

Sensing that Cerebon didn’t seem to be in too much of a rush, Zareth decided to make his way over to Gurza’s table and took a seat. It’d be nice to get an update about… everything, given how much he seemed to have missed.

“Really? Why do you say that?” Zareth asked as he settled in the chair across from Gurza before turning an apprehensive gaze to the… thing jiggling on the roof. “And also, do I want to know what kind of abomination my cult managed to create while I was away? How is that thing even moving without bones?”

“Onara only drinks in celebration, so you likely won’t see her drunk again unless something good happens. Heard her grandson reached Level 30 thanks to all the fighting and received a promotion,” Gurza said with a snort of amusement. Another piece of bread appeared in her hand out of nowhere and was thrown to the meat blob. “As for this thing, your brats scooped up a bunch of the meat growin’ out of your walls and disappeared into a room. A few hours later, this delightful little monster was wiggling its way across the walls. Supposedly, one of them is really interested in making golems.”

It was nice to hear that his cult’s most devout and most curmudgeonly member wasn’t an alcoholic. The intensity of the war meant that the Tal’Qamari military’s soldiers were all leveling quicker than normal, so it wasn’t all that much of a surprise that her grandson had advanced rapidly. He knew better than most exactly how much adversity was a boon when it came to the System, as long as one managed to survive.

However, the bread-loving blob that his [Cultists] had created was much more of a conundrum.

Yep… I definitely should’ve been keeping a closer eye on this place, Zareth mused as he studied the creature with a mix of tired exasperation and bewilderment. How the hell did they even make this thing? Its body doesn’t have any structural support, its movements are almost certainly prohibitively energy inefficient, and its behavior seems more complex than anything my cute little flying eyeball has shown. Unless one of the kids is secretly a reincarnated genius of biology, then the only different factor is the material they used to make it, but the biomass shouldn’t be anything too out of the norm. Or is it? Maybe the Divine Essence from Meldorath’s Heart has resulted in the biomass pro⁠—

“Ah! What the…” Zareth’s train of thoughts was abruptly interrupted as something bounced off the back of his head, and a chorus of giggles erupted behind him. Turning, he saw a small, fleshy ball had been the projectile and had landed in front of a group of children, who quickly squealed and dispersed as soon as they saw him looking.

That the ball opened a mouth and chose to join them in their squawking was something that Zareth very deliberately chose to ignore.

“I’ve gotta admit. When you asked me to join your cult in return for providin’ assistance to the slums, I didn’t imagine it’d turn into this,” Gurza said with a wry smile, gesturing broadly at the chaos-filled hall. “Glad that I agreed. This is the most fun that I’ve had in half a century, and it’s real interestin’ to see the mayhem spread from here to the rest of the city. Pretty sure you’ve got the snakes twistin’ themselves into knots with all the regulations they’re goin’ to need.”

Zareth was glad that Gurza seemed to be enjoying herself, but he could distinctly feel a headache starting to develop. “And what exactly do you mean by that?”

“Well, seems obvious that the folks who run Tal’Qamar are likely to make some rules about what your cult can and can’t do to people’s bodies,” said Gurza, her eyes twinkling with mischief. “Heard a rumor that one of the naga wants it made illegal for anyone to be made into one of them, but I also heard from a Desharin that the snakes want to forcibly make everyone into naga to ‘improve’ the populace, so who knows what’s true? Either way, I’m sure there’ll be some new laws written soon enough.”

That wasn’t something Zareth had considered, but it made sense. He’d have to ask General Nasrith or Lady Marilith about it the next time he spoke with one of them. While he clearly hadn’t been paying close enough attention to the cult through his flesh golem, Zareth had kept himself informed about the massive stream of gold pouring into his coffers.

How could he not, when Tamir first informed him that profit from their aesthetic body sculpting services had utterly eclipsed every other source of income combined. There was no way that he would allow that to be nipped in the bud before it could make him and his cult filthy rich.

Zareth spent the next hour socializing with his cult and enduring its many ridiculous antics. Vidhatri seemed to enjoy walking around the room while analyzing the flesh manipulation of his [Cultists] and offering suggestions to make them better, which usually just meant more deadly. Onara somehow managed to convince Rizok and Gurza to join her in a drinking game, eventually resulting in the two of them wrestling on the floor. Meanwhile, Glurp the flesh blob, Glitterfang the Radiant Serpent, and Skywhisker the flying cat seemed to join forces to steal the disturbingly vocal flesh ball from the cult’s children.

Zareth ended up commiserating with the shivarath leader of the Pathfinders, Kajal. They spoke a bit about the Adventurer’s Guild’s efforts to excavate the Temple of Meldorath’s basements. The Guild had been making a decent amount of progress into the catacombs lately, and the Pathfinders had been dragging back several fascinating slain flesh golems from the temple for him to study for a while. So, Zareth was eager to see what else the Adventurers managed to find.

Their conversation was quite pleasant, until Kajal was forced to leave abruptly to cut down Casper from the roof after he attempted to make a bed of webbing and got himself stuck.

In that moment, Kajal looked far more like an exhausted teacher overseeing a playground than a fearsome warrior.

Zareth dearly hoped that wasn’t what he looked like from an outside perspective.

When things began to calm down and he finally saw an opportunity to pull himself away from the chaos, Zareth decisively took it and began ascending the spire. Cerebon had been quite patient, but he didn’t want to push his luck in keeping a god waiting any longer than necessary. The climb up the spire was quiet, as everyone was still enjoying the revelry down below, and it wasn’t long before he arrived at the topmost terrace.

The artifact used to communicate with Cerebon was exactly where it was supposed to be, sitting on a pedestal at the terrace’s center. It radiated potent waves of Divine Essence from the glyphs inscribed onto its obsidian, polyhedral surface.

Zareth was apprehensive as he recalled exactly how disturbing it had felt to have his consciousness pulled from his body and transported through an eldritch void until it reached its destination. Not to mention the fact that Cerebon’s realm itself wasn’t the most pleasant of locales, but it wasn’t as if he had much of a choice.

Serving a god in exchange for power meant sometimes doing things that made you uncomfortable, so Zareth pushed aside his hesitation and decisively reached out to the artifact.

Unlike the first time he’d used it, there was no delay before Zareth felt the world melt away around him as his consciousness was pulled away from his body. Also unlike his first time, his mind and senses weren’t assaulted by incomprehensible shapes, colors, and sensations. Instead, it felt as if he were enveloped by a comforting shroud of darkness before he quite suddenly found himself on his hands and knees looking at a surface of undulating flesh.

Finally, something familiar. I was beginning to worry that something had gone wrong with the artifact or that I was being transported to a different god, Zareth mused as he slowly pushed himself to his feet before suddenly freezing when he saw his surroundings.

He’d assumed when he saw the ground that he was back in the stretching landscape of ancient ruins and writhing meat and had expected to see Cerebon sitting on his ruined throne like before.

He very much didn’t expect to find himself atop some kind of massive creature flying through the sky, its bat-like wings stretching nearly a hundred feet in each direction. The sheer buffets of wind caused by its wings should have made it feel as if he were standing in a hurricane, yet Zareth felt a supernatural steadiness keeping him upright.

It had been around noon in Tal’Qamar when he had left, but the sky above was a tapestry of twilight hues as the sun set over a distant horizon. Just as Zareth was about to run to the edge of the creature so that he could get a better view of where he was and what exactly he was riding, a familiar voice stopped him in his tracks.

“You seemed quite interested in flight, so I thought that a change in our meeting location would be well-received.

Zareth pivoted toward the source of the deep, rumbling voice and predictably found Cerebon watching from several feet away. The god had assumed his towering humanoid shape, complete with the horned lizard skull for a head that Zareth had first seen him in. This time, however, he’d abandoned his iridescent robes and opted to wear nothing at all to cover up his pulsating muscles.

Zareth was only glad that Cerebon’s form didn’t seem to be fully anatomically correct, given that certain areas were composed of swirling sinew and bone rather than any detailed features. It made staring at the deity less… uncomfortable.

Cerebon lounged atop a throne crafted from the same flesh as the colossal creature they were currently riding, his posture relaxed as he continued speaking. “Although, I’m not certain that even a sight like this one is as engaging as the event from which you just departed. It truly has been a pleasure to observe the unique mortals who you’ve brought into my embrace, far different from my other cults.”

Zareth wasn’t quite sure how to take that, so he decided to go with the safe option of simply bowing and expressing gratitude.

“I’m glad that you find the members of my cult pleasing, Lord Cerebon. They’re certainly a handful, but I’m quite proud of my cult,” Zareth said politely as he carefully approached the god and studied the beating wings of the creature. “And I appreciate your gift, but what exactly are we standing on?”

“Your pride is warranted, as you’ve done more to further my interests than most mortals in recent decades,” said Cerebon with slight derision as he waved his hand dismissively. “As for this creature, it is called a Skythane. I imagine you would learn much from studying its biology, but your skills will not function in this place. The System’s attempts to spread its influence into the divine realms have always been met with middling success.”

Zareth had already attempted to use [Permanent Flesh Manipulation] on the creature and hadn’t been all that surprised when it failed, but it was fairly interesting to learn that the System didn’t work at all in Cerebon’s realm.

He also had a distinct feeling that the god had been very intentional when he shared that information and wanted to stoke Zareth’s curiosity. After all, every part of his life had been gradually progressing in the direction of learning about the ancient past, from the tome of Meldorath to his Class Evolution.

Honestly, a part of Zareth was frustrated by the god’s annoyingly cryptic behavior and refusal to speak plainly with him. Chances were good that the god would just send him another dangerous task and maybe grant him another reward similar to [Eye of Cerebon].

It was probably unwise for Zareth to harbor such feelings toward an entity capable of reading his mind and who he was completely at the mercy of, but it wasn’t as if he could control his thoughts. Fortunately, Cerebon merely reacted with a snort of amusement, curving his bony jaw into a sly smirk.

“I do indeed have another difficult task for you, my mortal. One which I believe is quite compatible with your mortal politics, but there is much that you misunderstand,” said Cerebon, seemingly unconcerned with his disrespectful thoughts. “It was for your own benefit that I behaved cryptically, as you refer to it, lest certain entities become particularly interested in you. I promise, such an outcome would have resulted in you suffering a fate far worse than death.”

While Zareth wasn’t entirely convinced, Cerebon knew far more than he did about this world and didn’t really have much incentive to lie to him, especially when the god already had so much control over him.

However, there was one part of what the god had said that definitely caught Zareth’s attention and caused him to wonder. Cerebon had used the word was and seemed to imply that something had changed.

“Correct,” said Cerebon, his smirk growing into a satisfied grin. “In your drive to pursue ancient knowledge to serve me while furthering your own ambitions, you faithfully chose to become an [Atavistic Apostle]. I’d devised many plans if you chose differently, but your class is sufficiently compatible with a skill that I suspect you will greatly appreciate. One quite useful for protecting secret knowledge. Approach, my clever little mortal, so that I may convince the System that you possess the necessary requirements to acquire it.”

Zareth hesitated, recalling that he’d been left gasping for air on his knees the last time Cerebon had artificially manipulated the System and been given a scary warning message, but he eventually forced himself to walk forward. Cerebon didn’t waste any time and immediately placed a hand on Zareth’s shoulder as soon as he was in arm’s reach before inundating him with Divine Essence.

However, much to Zareth’s surprise, the experience wasn’t nearly as overwhelming as it had been the first time around.

“You have my greater boon to thank for that, my mortal,” said Cerebon, deciding to answer his unvoiced question. “As you recently learned from the naga archmage, the System interfaces with those under its influence primarily through the soul. The System has sufficiently effective countermeasures that prevent even the greatest mortal soul mages of this era from excessive tampering. But I was greater than these modern mages even before my apotheosis, and my boon makes your soul especially receptive to my influence.”

Zareth didn’t have time to think about how immensely uncomfortable that sentence made him feel or the god’s almost possessive undertone before a System message suddenly rang out in his mind.

[Obscure Cognition] has been acquired!

Warning! Repeated external manipulation of a mortal so⁠—

“Hmph. Sensitive little thing. It’s been watching you closer ever since I first alerted it,” Cerebon said with an annoyed scoff before focusing his attention back on Zareth. “I had to expend your Skill Point to fool the System into believing that you had acquired the skill legitimately, but it was doubtlessly worth it. You wouldn’t have ever been offered this skill unless you’d first acquired the deception-related Skill Evolutions available to [Cultist], which would have been too costly an investment for little gain. This skill, however, will serve you well.”

Having already analyzed the description for [Obscure Cognition], Zareth emphatically agreed.

Obscure Cognition – Conceals the user’s thoughts from those attempting to read them by any means, making them appear mundane and uninteresting to observers. Increases mental resistance to manipulation and control. Increases the user’s ability to detect mental intrusions. +2 Spirit. +3 Willpower.

This skill was worth much more than the lost Skill Point sacrificed to acquire it and would have definitely been Zareth’s first choice if it had been made available to him. The enchanted ring given to him by the Tessik had managed to stand up against Agnazir, but he was under no illusions that the ring would have been sufficient if the archmage had made a stronger effort.

He had far too many secrets for his mind to be left an open book to anyone with the means to peek inside, so [Obscure Cognition] was more than welcome. Cerebon might enjoy sending him out on potentially lethal tasks that made his life far more difficult than it needed to be, but the god certainly knew how to hand out proper rewards.

Zareth stared awkwardly at Cerebon in anticipatory silence for several moments until the god eventually raised a single brow ridge in response. “If you’re waiting for me to respond to your thoughts as I have been for the entirety of this conversation, I recommend that you reanalyze the skill that you’ve just acquired.”

Zareth winced in embarrassment before the feeling was overshadowed by exhilaration. He’d grown used to Cerebon reading his mind and accepted it as simply the cost of business, but he definitely hadn’t enjoyed having his mental privacy constantly violated.

“Does [Obscure Cognition] truly work on even gods? That’s… amazing,” Zareth couldn’t help but blurt out, too surprised to control himself.

“As a shield, it is close to worthless against an entity like me, but the concealment effect that makes your thoughts appear mundane is enough to fool any being that has no reason to scrutinize you more closely,” Cerebon explained with surprising patience, as if he were teaching a particularly curious student. “Few will suspect you of possessing a skill like [Obscure Cognition] as you are not a [Spy] or a similar such class. It should also grant you a degree of protection against entities who would be alerted to you learning certain pieces of information, granting me a greater leeway in terms of information that I may safely share.”

Zareth’s eyes widened in surprise at Cerebon’s words, his mind racing to process what they implied as he recalled a detail from their first meeting. “I remember you said something similar about the origin of the System, Lord Cerebon. That it was a dangerous secret which would mark me for death. Is this mysterious entity another god? I can’t imagine that you’d need to maneuver so cautiously otherwise.”

If Cerebon was feeling indulgent and Zareth was actually free to ask all the questions he’d never been able to find answers for, then he intended to take full advantage of this opportunity.

“Oh, child. If gods had nothing to fear in this world, then it would look far different than it does now,” said Cerebon, chuckling darkly as his flesh suddenly rippled with an unseen force. “In fact, you’re already familiar with the being that primarily concerns me. The ironically named Unfettered One, whose mortal servants have dedicated themselves to freeing it from a prison that has confined it since the end of the System War.”

Zareth was unsurprised to hear that the Cult of the Unfettered One was directly related to whatever Cerebon’s goals were, as there had been plenty of signs pointing in that direction. But there was one question that immediately sprang to mind. “If the Unfettered One isn’t a god, then what exactly is it?”

For the first time since Zareth had met the god, something akin to discomfort crossed Cerebon’s features. “I have speculation, but I do not know for certain. I do know that it was the Aeonarch, the dominant pantheon of the faction which triumphed in the System War, who personally sealed it away at the end of the conflict and that its single-minded goal is the destruction of the System.”

That… would be utterly catastrophic, Zareth realized as he imagined what would happen if the System were to suddenly disappear.

He’d lived an entirely separate life in a world devoid of supernatural elements, so he knew that it wouldn’t be impossible for people to adjust. However, the societal upheaval of the System disappearing in a world so thoroughly entwined with its influence would be nothing short of apocalyptic.

[Farmers] who had no idea how to properly grow crops without their skills, [Healers] incapable of treating the simplest illnesses without magic, and all manner of craftsmen who could no longer produce goods of decent quality. The Etherveil would still exist, but the number of people capable of actually using it would be miniscule, and the world would have to entirely relearn a new means of using magic.

“But… why?” Zareth asked, completely dumbfounded. He hadn’t seen any evidence that the System was malevolent or harmful to the world. The idea of destroying it when the consequences would be so horrible and seemingly benefit nobody was… just idiotic.

It was the kind of inane plan that Zareth would expect to read from a comic book supervillan, not something that would actually be pursued by any rational person. Yet the Cult of the Unfettered One had seemingly convinced a large group of people to join its cause despite this.

It didn’t make any sense.

“I will answer your question. But first, there is something that I wish you to see,” Cerebon said after a moment of thoughtful silence as he stood from his throne. “Join me at the edge of the Skythane and look at the scene down below. I think it may place some things into perspective.”

Feeling curious, Zareth heeded the god’s orders and followed him to the edge of the Skythane. He doubted that anything as mundane as gravity would endanger him while he was in Cerebon’s realm, but he still felt a need to be cautious.

When he finally arrived at the edge, Zareth decided to first study the so-called Skythane and realized that it was a bizarre amalgamation of creatures. It had the long, serpentine body of an oriental dragon, but its skin was rough and leathery like that of an elephant rather than covered in scales as he would expect. The Skythane’s head was most similar to that of a lion, but with sharper, more angular features and cat-like eyes that possessed a degree of intelligence that he would never have expected from an animal.

“A magnificent being, isn’t it?” said Cerebon, causing Zareth to flinch in surprise as he’d become engrossed in studying the Skythane. “It took me until the third century of my life to capture one for study, and that endeavor nearly cost me my life. However, this is not what I wished for you to see. Look down below.”

Zareth cautiously leaned forward and peered over the edge of the Skythane, causing his breath to be promptly stolen from him by the scene below. “Is that… Valandor?”

“Indeed. Though, the continent is quite a bit different than the one which currently exists in your time. The landscape you see now is how Valandor appeared during the System War.”

If Zareth hadn’t believed that the System War was as cataclysmic as everything he had read described, then the scene in front of him would’ve been enough to convince him.

Purchasing a map of Valandor was one of the first things that Zareth had done when he had enough gold to afford luxuries, which meant he had a decent idea of its size and proportions.

Yet the Valandor below was unrecognizable, its terrain marred by gargantuan scars and vast craters that looked like wounds on the earth itself. Rivers of lava cut across the landscape while several mountain ranges were split asunder and glowed with an eerie light. There were even a few extra hundred miles of land in the southeastern part of Valandor, which Zareth was certain no longer existed in his time.

The scale of destruction was beyond anything that he could have ever imagined, outstripping what he’d estimated even the highest-level individuals could accomplish. Moreover, the fact that much of the damage had been fixed in his time was even more astonishing.

“W-What could have done this?” Zareth found himself asking, voice barely more than a whisper.

“A group of Mage-Lords who were once on the cusp of surpassing the gods in strength,” said Cerebon, his gaze distant as he stared at the devastation below. “Alternatively, you might fault the gods, who created a System to regulate and direct the power of mortals in response. Such actions were bound to ignite a war, the effects of which still echo to this day. This history underpins much of your mortal politics, my ambitions, and why it is necessary that you aid me in constructing a new pantheon in Tal’Qamar capable of confronting the Conclave.”

As he gazed at the scene of a shattered continent, Zareth experienced many emotions and thoughts in quick succession. However, the one that surprised him the most in its intensity was an overwhelming desire to ensure that his cult never had to live through a conflict capable of creating such devastation.

That being the case, there was only one way for him to respond.

“Please tell me more, Lord Cerebon.”

Chapter 15

Cerebon’s divine realm immediately began to shift and change the moment Zareth’s words left his lips. The Skythane that they were riding, the devastated landscape far below, and the twilight sky all gradually faded away until the two of them were standing alone in an empty void.

Before Zareth could adjust to the sudden change, Cerebon’s voice began to echo eerily through the divine realm.

“When I was born a scant few centuries prior to the System War, it was to a world already steeped in ancient history. Continent-spanning empires had risen and fallen, leaving behind legacies of both wisdom and ruin. Heroes had banished threats that would have plunged the entire world into chaos, and mages had delved deeply into the Etherveil in their desire to understand and harness its energies.”

Zareth was astonished as the void rapidly shifted to reflect the god’s narrative, the illusions so realistic that it felt as if he were standing within the scenes himself.

He was shown several majestic cities, many times grander and larger than Tal’Qamar, only to watch them crumble into dust one after another. He witnessed an armored human woman glowing brightly with Divine Essence as she swung at some manner of eldritch abomination several times her size and observed a group of scholarly-looking dwarves sorting books in a library so vast that he couldn’t see the end of it.

Zareth even let out a yelp of surprise and instinctively threw himself to the ground when he suddenly found himself in the middle of a group of mages throwing lightning at each other.

“Despite this, the development of our civilizations plateaued and remained largely stagnant for a significant length of time,” Cerebon said solemnly as his divine realm cycled through more and more images, completely ignoring Zareth’s antics. “The presence of magic resulted in a general lack of research into the natural sciences, and there existed a seemingly fundamental limit inherent to the Etherveil. What you refer to as ‘Sigils’ could only grow so complex before requiring levels of energy that mortal bodies were simply incapable of safely channeling, restricting the power and variety of spells that mages were able to cast.”

Content to listen as Cerebon continued to weave his story, Zareth remained silent as he picked himself up from the ground in embarrassment and did his best to focus on the illusions.

He was shown numerous scenes of mages on battlefields performing feats of magic not all that different from what he believed a decently leveled [War Mage] could achieve, which, while impressive, was far from anything that might threaten actual gods. But more importantly, Zareth noticed that there was never any noteworthy signs of improvement in culture, technology, or magic despite how many images he was being shown.

Thus, he somewhat expected it when the next part of Cerebon’s story revealed a turning point that reshaped the course of this world’s history.

“This period of relative stagnancy existed for longer than any but the oldest of entities could possibly remember… until everything changed with a single, epochal discovery,” Cerebon said with a tone that was both distant and somber, as if he were lost in a memory. “While the minerals that would eventually come to be known as Stellarvoid Crystals were too few to be particularly useful, they possessed an anomalous property not previously found in any known material.”

The divine realm transformed to reveal a meteor plummeting through the sky toward a small coastal settlement. Zareth watched the vivid scene with avid interest for several moments until he noticed that the meteor appeared as if it was heading right for him and couldn’t help panicking.

He was sincerely glad that the deafening explosion covered the sound of his screams.

Okay, he had to have done that on purpose, Zareth thought as he moved away from the impact site and glanced suspiciously at the god, only to feel doubtful when he saw Cerebon was as stoic as ever.

It wasn’t long before the dust settled, and a group of curious human villagers carrying makeshift weapons arrived at the crater, only to find it filled with pitch-black crystals that seemed to swallow all light around them.

What happened next made Zareth wish that Cerebon’s little illusionary display was a little less realistic, as a young man with too much bravery and not enough sense touched one of the crystals.

The young man’s screams as his body began to convulse, shrivel, and rapidly crystallize were as terrifying as they were familiar.

“Shit. What the hell are those things?” Zareth blurted out, stepping back reflexively from the scene and glaring warily at the crystals.

It reminded him far too much of the Cult of the Unfettered One’s actions in Jabal-Alma to be a coincidence.

“The Stellarvoid Crystals have the unique characteristic of making mortal souls unnaturally malleable in close proximity,” said Cerebon, a rare note of excitement in the god’s voice as he began to academically explain the gruesome death in front of them. “I’ll spare you the complex thaumaturgical theory, but in summation, what you just witnessed was the human boy’s soul losing its ability to properly process ambient Ether. This resulted in full-body crystallization as the mortal Ether transitioned from a metaphysical form into a physical one in a phenomenon that had not been well understood prior to the arrival of these crystals, which modern mages refer to as Etheric Concretion. Research into it is responsible for the existence of most materials capable of storing Ether.”

Zareth couldn’t help but feel like he was back in college when Cerebon spoke to him as if he were a young student attending an Eldamiri academy. He couldn’t help but think that the god must have been a mage during his mortal life, as Cerebon seemed more than content sharing information about magical theory.

It was certainly fascinating, though a bit morbid even by Zareth’s standards given the confused villagers screaming and crying around the crystalline corpse, but there was one detail that stood out to him.

“But… there are so many examples of materials that can do exactly that. Are you telling me that none of them existed before the discovery of these crystals, Lord Cerebon?” asked Zareth, feeling skeptical as he cautiously studied the crater of soul-altering space rocks.

Even excluding Ethershards, [Artificers] across the world had plenty of options for ways to power their creations, such as Sunstones.

“Correct. For a period of several decades, countless experiments across the world focused on replicating and refining the properties of the Stellarvoid Crystals,” Cerebon patiently explained, seemingly pleased with his question. “While progress was laggard in understanding the effect they had on souls, many other discoveries were made as a result of this research, such as in the field of Etheric Concretion. From the Ethershard ritual to the creation of self-replicating elementals with their own crystalline power sources, a variety of inventive methods meant that Ether-storing materials became commonplace for the first time in history. Naturally, the effect this had on our civilizations was completely and utterly transformative.”

Before Zareth could fully process the implication of Cerebon’s words, the divine realm abruptly shifted once again and he found himself plummeting through the sky, shouting in surprise. Almost instantly, he felt a firm grip catch him by the collar, and he turned back to see Cerebon flying steadily in the air with the aid of two massive, bat-like wings.

“What the f—” Zareth shouted out before suddenly remembering who he was talking to and continuing with a strained tone of respect. “I mean… is this really necessary, Lord Cerebon?”

“Perhaps not, but I felt this would give you the best view of the city,” said Cerebon, his voice calm as if he weren’t holding one of his followers like a misbehaving cat. “Besides, as the God of Transformation, I am typically reluctant to remain in a singular form for an extended period of time. Especially when recounting the most dramatic and transformative moment in our world’s history. I suggest you grow accustomed to this.”

Zareth had absolutely no idea how true that was, but it wasn’t as if he were going to call bullshit on a deity, so he simply turned his attention downward and was immediately confronted by a cityscape that stretched as far as his three eyes could see.

Its structures were marked by sweeping curves and intricate silver embellishments and were all adorned by crystals that shone with a soft, golden hue. These magical crystals seemed to pull in dense streams of Ether from below the earth and redirect the energy into a diverse array of magical devices and constructs all across the city.

Humanoid golems that patrolled the streets, intricate networks of levitating platforms which transported people and goods with fluid efficiency, and impossibly complex enchantments infused into the very fabric of the cityscape were all powered by these very same crystals.

Moreover, Zareth estimated from the city’s sheer magnitude that it could possibly support a population in the several millions, which was a difficult feat to match in a world that lacked advanced technology—even with the advantages of the System. Great Mu and Eldamir City were the only cities that he knew of that might even come close to rivaling this metropolis in scale, though he couldn’t say for certain.

Even the population itself was surprisingly diverse as the city’s streets teemed with an assorted throng of beings; familiar races like humans and shivarath mingled with those that Zareth had only ever heard of in books or knew nothing about. An example of the latter being an unknown race of bipedal, horned, ogre-sized reptilians with large wings folded neatly along their backs and possessing an appearance somewhat more bestial than those of the lizardkin. He also spotted several individuals with elongated, pointed ears and sharp features that resembled humans in an almost uncanny and eerie manner, unmistakably marking them as elves.

All things considered, it was a truly imposing sight that outstripped any of the civilizations that Cerebon had shown him previously. The difference was almost like looking at pictures of cities from the medieval period to those that had gone through the industrial revolution.

“Magnificent, isn’t it?” asked Cerebon, his voice thick with nostalgia as he began to fly through the city while carrying Zareth like a sack of potatoes. “The long stagnation of magical research meant that there were many magical theories and ideas that had accumulated within the libraries of our scholars. Once we gained access to cheap and increasingly sophisticated means of storing Ether and were able to break through the Etherveil’s fundamental restraints on Sigil complexity, it was as if a dam had burst. Innovation flourished, and optimism spread throughout the realms. It was… truly a unique time to have been alive, with cities like Nymelle being a product of this new era.”

It certainly looked prosperous, and while appearances could be deceiving, Zareth found it hard to imagine that his second life would have been quite so difficult if he’d been born on these streets.

However, the affluence of long-dead civilizations wasn’t topping his list of priorities. Especially when he knew that this prosperous moment in history was merely a prelude to a world-changing war.

He was far more interested in learning how this could have resulted in the creation of the System.

“Lord Cerebon, you implied that the System was designed by the gods to somehow… limit people, but I’ve yet to see how this story is leading to that outcome,” Zareth asked curiously, his mind filled with speculation as he glanced up to the god. “While this is all very impressive, sufficiently leveled [Architects] and [Masons] would likely be able to create these structures if they rediscovered the materials used to make them and [Artificers] could replicate most of the magical tools. Not to mention the fact that means of storing magic are still commonplace and the Etherveil is still accessible, even if it’s not as well studied. I haven’t seen anything here which the System would be effective in preventing.”

The only other important factor would simply be time, as Zareth hadn’t noticed any of the stagnation that Cerebon had described earlier during his study of post–System War history. So long as there weren’t any society-ending events, the world would eventually return to this level of development.

“A worthy question, but you must first understand the context that led to the System’s implementation,” said Cerebon, flying them both down to a nearby terrace now that he’d already shown Zareth most of the city from above. “And the conflicts that preceded it.”

“I assume that context involves those ‘Mage-Lords’ who you mentioned were threatening to overshadow the gods,” said Zareth, glad to be back on solid ground and growing more immersed in Cerebon’s story. “As difficult as I find that to believe.”

Even Archmage Agnazir’s presence felt like a mere candle compared to the all-encompassing inferno that was Cerebon’s divine aura. It almost seemed impossible to imagine that any mortal, especially one without the System, would ever be able to come close to that level of power.

“Your skepticism is warranted. Even with such achievements, the ascendant Mage-Lords had not been seen as a genuine threat to the gods,” Cerebon explained, his wings merging back into his body. “Deities do not exist physically within the mortal realm, and the Mage-Lords had no particular motivation to target their worshippers. This perception only began to change when it became clear that the mortals were finally making progress in understanding the Stellarvoid Crystal’s anomalous ability to affect souls. Tell me, my servant. What do you know of how deities come to be, or from where they derive their power?”

Zareth was startled by the sudden change in topic. He assumed that Cerebon was already well aware of how little Zareth or anyone else knew about the subject, but he still took a moment to seriously consider his answer before responding.

The Grimoire of Cerebon hadn’t said much about the nature of gods, but he had done a decent amount of research when he started earning some gold. Heck, Zareth only learned that mortals could become gods after Cerebon had taken an interest in him, which was not information that he could find publicly available anywhere.

Having gathered his thoughts, Zareth turned to Cerebon with the intention of giving his response, only to see what appeared to be a horse-sized centipede silently looking back with an almost comedic patience.

Zareth considered saying something, but a faint suspicion that Cerebon was messing with him led him to simply shudder in disgust before answering the god’s question.

“Given the nature of Divine Essence and that the majority of gods have shown a desire to accumulate worshipers, it’s obvious that they contribute to their deities’ power. Though whether or not worshipers account for the entirety of a god’s power is a matter of debate, and I certainly don’t have an answer. As for the question of where gods actually come from, that is even less clear.”

He had absolutely no idea how, but Cerebon’s insectoid face somehow managed to express satisfaction at his answer.

“The exact details of divine nature and the process of achieving godhood are intentionally obfuscated by deities across the world,” said Cerebon, his mandibles clicking in rhythm as he spoke. “However, one prerequisite for apotheosis is exceedingly obvious to any competent [Theologian], a soul that is sufficiently powerful enough to withstand ascendancy. There are a variety of natural means to strengthen one’s soul, such as through spiritual enlightenment, intense personal trials, and extended service to a divine entity, but all paths require immense dedication and effort. Thus, if the Mage-Lords succeeded in developing the means to accomplish this artificially, then⁠—”

“Then the gods would gain too many rivals,” said Zareth, eyes widening as the puzzle pieces finally began to slowly fit together. “If you were a mortal who became a god by usurping Meldorath, that means all of the other gods would be constantly at risk of suffering the same fate if the means of doing so were to become widespread.”

Zareth only realized after the fact that he’d interrupted Cerebon in the middle of speaking, but his too-many-legged god thankfully didn’t appear all that upset.

“Correct, my clever little Apostle,” said Cerebon, a chittering noise that could only signify approval escaping from his mandibles. “Once they understood the threat, the gods immediately made attempts to stifle mortal progress, from banning means of storing Ether or suppressing research into the Stellarvoid Crystals. Unfortunately for them, the Mage-Lords had already too effectively centralized power and even learned how to drastically empower their souls. This allowed them to reach heights of magical ability never before seen by mortals. Thus, civil conflict between the various religious institutions and the magocracies inevitably grew into war.”

Before he could respond, Cerebon’s divine realm began to bombard Zareth with images that left him shocked speechless.

A female elf, barely older than himself, was floating idly over what looked to be an ancient city carved into the side of a massive mountain, its defenses seemingly impenetrable. Yet with a mere flick of the wrist, the fabric of space itself tore and twisted, and the entire mountain which the city had been built upon was fractured into a kaleidoscope of collapsing realities, each layer folding and tearing repeatedly. When the storm of spatial distortions finally ceased, the city and everything within it had been torn into countless pieces and laid fragmented across the disfigured mountain.

An elderly shivarath, his expression cruel and filled with malice, cackling madly as he flew in the eye of a hurricane so fierce that its winds shattered apart coastlines and sank several island nations into the ocean. The sheer calamity and devastation left in his wake were so great that he reshaped the very geography of the world.

A group of dwarven mages performing an experimental ritual that catastrophically failed and created a rift in reality. An endless horde of creatures—which were so monstrous and alien that Cerebon was forced to hide their appearances when Zareth’s three eyes bled at the mere sight of them—poured from the rift and wreaked havoc. Their presence alone was enough to corrupt the land and presumably explained why the native continent of the dwarves, Grimharan, was still a twisted hellhole to this day.

Needless to say, it quickly became clear to Zareth that the mages of the modern era paled in comparison to the absurd power wielded by their Pre-System counterparts.

“With confirmation that they held the potential to threaten the gods, the Mage-Lords grew covetous of divine power and began collaborating to uncover the secrets of apotheosis,” Cerebon said as the cataclysmic imagery gave way to a group of eight extravagantly dressed mages seated and debating around a massive ornate table filled with magical tomes. “In response, the gods sought the means to strengthen their servants and break the stalemate before the Mage-Lords could achieve their ambitions.”

That made sense to Zareth. He was accustomed to living in a world where people like Rizok or other warriors could break the sound barrier or employ a wide variety of esoteric abilities, but the Pre-System warriors would have needed to rely on enchanted equipment.

He had a very difficult time believing that some guy with a flaming sword or unnaturally robust armor would be able to challenge what he’d just been shown, even if they had a few divine blessings.

“Then… I assume this is when the gods began considering the System?” asked Zareth.

He knew that the System modified souls to grant people supernatural abilities, and the gods needed stronger servants if they were to win their war, so it seemed like a straightforward conclusion.

“Indeed. It was a plan proposed by Prajnia, the Goddess of Knowledge.” Cerebon was quick to confirm his theory with a nod of his terrifying head. “She had long since finished analyzing the Stellarvoid Crystals for their properties and acquired a secondary domain over souls. Therefore, it was well within her means to construct a metaphysical framework through which their mortal servants could be systematically empowered. Not only would this proposed ‘System’ allow the gods to bolster their forces, but it could be designed in a way that prevented mortals from significantly modifying their own souls while disincentivizing further development in ‘dangerous’ areas of magical research. It was quite an elegant solution.”

Having finally reached a point in Cerebon’s narrative that was as directly relevant to his life as the System, Zareth immediately perked up and considered the implications of what he’d just heard.

Ever since he had heard that the innovation which caused the Mage-Lords to become a threat to the gods was an easy means of modifying and strengthening souls, he’d had one question on his mind. How was the System a reasonable response to that problem when it essentially empowered mortal souls as one of its prime functions?

Now that he understood a little bit more, things were starting to make sense. It was safe to assume that the System would only empower a soul to a point well below what was necessary for apotheosis, while its natural protections against meddling would prevent artificial modification.

Not to mention, Zareth had firsthand knowledge of just how powerful disincentivizing something with a quicker and more convenient alternative could be. One only had to look at how few people there were studying the Etherveil in favor of simply becoming [Mages] through the System to see the effectiveness of such a strategy.

Cerebon was right that it was a clever plan that was nearly guaranteed to be successful… there was just one issue.

“Then… what went wrong?” asked Zareth, genuinely confused as he thought back to everything he knew about the System War. “What you’ve described so far is a conflict between all of the gods against the Mage-Lords, with the gods eventually developing a plan that should have effectively allowed them to win the conflict. But… that isn’t what happened, is it?”

According to the tome of Meldorath and every other historical account that Zareth had managed to get his hands on, the conflict had been between two warring factions of gods. Tareth, the God of Freedom, and his allies on one side, and several pantheons that included the Aeonarch and the Conclave on the other.

So what had happened to the Mage-Lords and what had caused this rift among the gods?

“While all of the gods agreed with Prajnia’s plan in principle, it shouldn’t be a surprise to hear that there was significant disagreement on the System’s actual implementation,” Cerebon said dispassionately, as if such a conclusion was inevitable. “The largest division arose between those who believed that it should only be used as a means of preventing artificial soul empowerment and those who believed that the System should be modified to prevent all mortals from attaining godhood without authorization from the most powerful pantheons.”

Zareth supposed he should have seen that coming. When the chance came for those in power to further cement their positions, it was utterly predictable that they would do so.

“It’s honestly shocking that there were some gods who didn’t want to limit their competition,” said Zareth, withholding a sigh of relief as he noticed Cerebon finally shifting away from his centipede form. “Even more so that there were enough of them to actually put up a fight.”

“They were heavily outnumbered, but there were a few Mage-Lords who aided them in a bid to ensure that even a glimmer of hope for apotheosis remained available,” said Cerebon, shrugging carelessly in the form of a young shivarath man wearing scholarly robes and… hair made of centipedes. “It was not exactly a strong alliance, but the Mage-Lords and the gods led by Tareth were rational enough actors to avoid coming into serious conflict while focusing their efforts on a mutual enemy.”

Zareth hummed in acknowledgment as he did his best to ignore the fact that the god had chosen to cover his head in one of the few animals that made his skin crawl.

By now, he was almost certain that Cerebon was amusing himself at his expense.

“As for why some deities preferred not to overly limit mortals from ascending to godhood, there were a few like Prajnia who opposed it entirely on a moral basis, but the majority were entirely self-interested,” Cerebon continued, seemingly unaware or uncaring of his follower’s suspicions. “They either held domains such as Freedom or Change that would have been negatively affected by the System restricting mortals, or they simply understood that only the most influential pantheons would choose who ascended.”

Zareth fell into a contemplative silence once Cerebon finally finished his explanation of the events leading to the System War, the divine realm shifting back to a blank void as the god graciously gave him time to think.

The information that Cerebon had shared with him was invaluable and likely was something that he could only have learned from a source old enough to remember participating in these events personally. Even just listening to Cerebon speak made Zareth feel as if [Atavistic Apostle] was progressing to its next level at breakneck speed.

But as fascinating as he found ancient history, Zareth was more concerned about what consequences it had on himself and his cult.

The most significant implication so far was that the “bad guys” in Cerebon’s story were the ones who eventually emerged victorious. The God of Freedom was nowhere to be seen while the pantheons who wished to exploit the System to their own ends were still around, the Conclave being the most relevant to Zareth’s circumstances.

Did that mean that it was currently impossible for any mortals to become gods?

That’s… most likely the case, Zareth concluded grimly after spending several minutes trying and failing to recall any mention of an unknown deity showing up. If not for Cerebon, he would have believed that the gods were unchanging beings who had always held their positions.

Someone as weak as Zareth wasn’t qualified to hold ambitions toward godhood. But as a person whose primary goal for the past few years was to acquire enough power to protect himself, knowing that there was an invisible barrier artificially limiting him… rankled.

Despite that, the more important question was whether or not the Conclave and the other pantheons had complete control over the System. He had to assume that they didn’t, because the consequences would be disastrous otherwise.

Zareth felt his heart drop as he imagined Tal’Qamar nearly succeeding in entirely removing the Conclave’s influence from the Qahtani Desert, only for all of their classes and skills to suddenly disappear. The thought of inexplicably losing an entire lifetime’s worth of effort made him want to vomit.

Stop. Don’t be an idiot. If something like that was even remotely possible, then I would have heard about it happening, Zareth thought as he forced himself to calm down. Classes were practically considered to be sacred by everyone in this world, so a story about one spontaneously being lost would have spread like wildfire. Still… I should probably ask Cerebon, just to be safe.

Zareth was never more relieved than when Cerebon snorted in faint amusement and looked at him as if he were an idiot.

“Of course not. Those arrogant fools would have never been able to resist using such power if they possessed it,” said Cerebon, sneering disdainfully as his hair chittered in agitation.

“That’s… really good,” said Zareth, fully calming down now that the worst-case scenario had been dispelled.

After taking a moment to gather his thoughts, he decided to turn his attention back to the actual history that Cerebon had brought him here to learn. He already knew which side had won the System War, that it had been catastrophic enough to destroy most of Valandor’s landscape, and that it had lasted for around two centuries.

He wasn’t exactly interested in receiving a step-by-step recounting of every single battle that occurred and doubted that Cerebon would bother with minutiae regardless.

From everything that he knew about history, there was really only one important part of the System War that Zareth needed to ask about if he wanted to understand how it related to his current circumstances.

“Lord Cerebon, how did the System War end? And for that matter, how did the Conclave’s side manage to defeat the God of Freedom?” asked Zareth, deciding to focus on what was most likely the conflict’s pivotal moment. “From what I understand, he not only had the support of several Mage-Lords but also had Prajnia on his side, whose soul domain was necessary for the System’s creation. How did he lose?”

Worryingly, Zareth’s question caused Cerebon to fall into a long, heavy silence as the god seemed to cease moving entirely until he resembled a rather disturbing statue. The surrounding void somehow managed to grow darker and began to tremble in a foreboding manner.

Unsure what to do, Zareth remained silent as Cerebon’s tense, uncomfortable stillness stretched on, the deity’s divine presence growing more and more suffocating with each passing moment. He didn’t know exactly how long this lasted for, but Zareth eventually noticed Cerebon’s shape slowly shifting until the god was wearing a visage that somehow seemed… different from those that he’d seen before.

Cerebon’s newest form resembled the unknown, ogre-sized reptilian race that Zareth had earlier seen walking through the magical city, distinguished only by an apparent absence of wings. His scales were a deep shade of obsidian, and his slit eyes glinted with a crimson hue that seemed to emit their own faint light. He had a slight build, large horns growing from his temples, and for some reason wore a rather plain cloak over the much more extravagant robes that were reminiscent of the Mage-Lords he had seen earlier.

It wasn’t until he noticed Cerebon held a long, twisted staff of flesh and bone, topped with a large eyeball and emanating terrible power that Zareth suddenly realized why this form seemed different.

He had seen it before during the Rite of Flesh Liberation, when he had sworn further oaths to Cerebon and experienced a series of visions. He vividly remembered that the last of them involved himself wearing an appearance extremely similar to the one Cerebon was wearing now and looking down at an indistinct battlefield with contempt.

Is… this what Cerebon looked like when he was a mortal? Zareth wondered uncertainly before growing increasingly confident of his guess the more he gave it thought.

He sincerely doubted that the Rite of Flesh Liberation would have shown him that vision if it wasn’t related to Cerebon. That, and the being in front of Zareth certainly looked like the kind of person who could usurp a Goddess of Flesh and achieve apotheosis.

Before Zareth could begin to consider the implications of this, a shiver of dread ran down his spine when Cerebon finally broke the silence, his voice menacingly quiet and brimming with barely concealed hatred.

“That… is a question which has a very simple and very infuriating answer. Betrayal. Five selfish vermin who made a decision that turned them into unfathomable monstrosities ended the war in a single, horrific day and nearly cost me everything.”

The sheer loathing in Cerebon’s eyes as his divine realm shifted to display five Mage-Lords chanting and channeling magic around an unfathomably complex ritual site was enough to chill Zareth to the bone.

A grim-faced ogre in enchanted armor who looked more like a noble Warrior-King than a traitorous Mage-Lord.

An ageless elven woman, the left side of her body entirely composed of wood and wearing robes made from verdant leaves that shimmered with an ethereal glow.

A young human man wearing an expression that spoke of deep arrogance and covered from head to toe in priceless enchanted jewelry, his eyes alight with almost manic intelligence.

An elderly dwarven woman with wild, untamed hair who hummed under her breath and jerked erratically while casting.

Cerebon looked at all of these Mage-Lords with disdain, but it was the last of them who seemed to draw his deepest scorn. A gray-scaled mage of the same species as Cerebon with massive, spread wings and an air of severity around him.

“Unbeknownst to the God of Freedom or his allies, a small group of traitors had been approached with a proposal by their enemies,” Cerebon began, eyes trained coldly on the reptilian Mage-Lord. “In return for their cooperation in ending a conflict that had destroyed much of the world and long since fallen into stalemate, these five Mage-Lords would be taught a ritual capable of granting them the prize they had been seeking for centuries. Ascendancy to godhood.”

“Sounds too good to be true,” said Zareth, not believing that a group of gods who had spent so long fighting to control the path to mortal apotheosis would freely give such a ritual to their enemies.

“Naturally, it was,” Cerebon immediately confirmed, his tone grim. “They should have known this, but by then, the Mage-Lords had lost much of their advantage against the gods compared to the initial stages of the war and had grown desperate. To the detriment of many, including themselves.”

As if in response to Cerebon’s words, the ritual being conducted by the five Mage-Lords finally reached its zenith.

What followed made the eyeball-bleeding eldritch monstrosities from earlier seem harmless in comparison.

Zareth let out a grunt of pain as he was suddenly struck by a splitting headache, the illusionary image of the ritual almost seeming to glitch like a broken screen before shattering entirely. His mind was then assaulted by images of the Mage-Lords being… twisted into something unnatural.

A mountain-sized giant clad in fragmented armor that constantly seethed with ethereal flame. Petty grudges and deeply held animosities were inflamed into conflicts that engulfed the world, leaving no hope for peace.

A gaunt, vaguely feminine figure with skin that mimicked the bark of a dead, drought stricken tree. Swarms of locusts and other pests stripping entire nations bare as countless people withered in hunger.

A grotesque abomination that was an amalgamation of various creatures, its flesh embedded with beautiful jewelry in a macabre display of wealth, never-before-seen monsters being birthed from its body and spreading chaos across the lands.

A capricious and unsettling figure, the only consistent feature being her twisted, manic grin. Her laughter appeared in the dreams of the unfortunate, turning their sleep into nightmares of twisted visions that slowly drove them to madness.

And finally, a hulking, brutish figure whose skin was covered in ravenous maws that hungered for flesh and spoke of subjugation. Across the world, an entire race of people was dominated and malformed into twisted versions of themselves, every trace of who they once were erased.

Zareth was only freed from these dreadful visions when Cerebon’s divine realm finally stabilized, returning them to a semblance of calm. The god waited until Zareth managed to compose himself before explaining what he had just seen.

“The ritual given to the Mage-Lords had been perverted, intentionally sabotaged to create monstrous beings who would cause widespread devastation,” said Cerebon, the hatred in his voice giving way to apathy as his eyes grew glassy and distant. “The Aeonarch and their allies had taken measures to protect their own territories against the fallout, so the birth of the Baleful Five affected them significantly less than it did their enemies. Tareth’s worshipers were hunted down and slaughtered in the resulting chaos, weakening him enough for him to be slain. Once he was gone, Prajnia disappeared soon after, and every mortal in the world soon gained access to the System, though likely in an imperfect manner given the existence of System Spawn. It was only because I’d made prior preparations that I was able to usurp Meldorath once that occurred. I’d show you images of the final portions of the war, but I imagine that to be unnecessary.

Zareth hurriedly shook his head in agreement, having seen enough stomach-churning imagery for one day.

Pretty much every deity in this world was one that had either positive or neutral domains associated with them, as they were the most competitive when it came to receiving worship. After all, who would want to devote themselves to the Goddess of Puppy-kicking or the God of Orphan-stomping?

That’s why the existence of five deities, the Baleful Five, who were unambiguously malevolent, was a phenomenon that had never made sense to Zareth. But none of them had much influence on Valandor, so he hadn’t really given it much thought.

Zareth honestly wanted to move past the horrifying ways in which the System War ended and change the topic to the immediate fallout, but there was something he had to say first.

“I’m sorry that happened to you, Lord Cerebon.”

Zareth worried that he’d overstepped his boundaries when Cerebon seemed to startle out of his thoughts and turn to him with an intense gaze. “You are… sorry? And what exactly do you presume to be sorry for, mortal?”

“I saw a vision of who I assume was Choantin, God of Slavery and Cannibalism,” Zareth cautiously admitted, hoping that the god wouldn’t smite him for bringing up bad memories. “One of him mutating and dominating the race that you’re currently assuming the form of…”

That this said race was by all signs seemingly non-existent in current times wasn’t something that needed to be said, the implication hanging heavy between them.

Cerebon tensed, falling silent for several tense moments before he visibly composed himself and nodded in acknowledgment.

“Your condolences are… appreciated. There are few who even know that we draconians once existed, let alone mourn our passing, as I can tell you genuinely do,” said Cerebon, his tone one of somber gratitude as he remained silent for a long moment. Eventually, his eyes grew sharp as he turned his focus back to the present. “However, I am far more interested in what you can do to help me punish those responsible. The Aeonarch is currently beyond either of our means to confront, but the Conclave is just as culpable for the death of my people and is even more of a danger to your burgeoning cult than you know.”

Zareth found it hard to imagine how that could be the case given that he’d already assumed the Conclave would gleefully exterminate his cult if they ever got their hands on Tal’Qamar…

His disbelief must have shown on his face, because Cerebon scoffed and continued speaking before he could ask for clarification.

“You doubt me. What if I were to tell you, mortal, that winning your war against the Conclave is only slightly less likely to doom your cult than losing it?”

I would think that you’re insane.

“I would ask for further clarification, Lord Cerebon,” Zareth said diplomatically, extremely grateful for [Obscure Cognition]. “How exactly would something like that be possible?”

In a sign that the god had finished with his history lesson, Cerebon’s divine realm slowly shifted back to the endless stretch of writhing flesh and ancient ruins that seemed to be its preferred state. A distant part of Zareth’s mind now recognized the decayed structures as belonging to Nymelle, but most of his focus was on Cerebon.

“As you just witnessed, the conclusion of the System War was far from straightforward and left the victorious gods with a host of ensuing complications that they grapple with to this day,” Cerebon said as he approached his throne and languidly settled into it. “Mortal resiliency has addressed most of the devastation caused by the System War, but the Baleful Five have emerged as a threat that required significant resources to contain. Meanwhile, assistance from those who oppose them has allowed anti-System organizations to persistently erode the established pantheons’ power. To the point that the Conclave was even forced to flee their native lands with the aid of powerful mortal factions.”

A grim possibility struck Zareth as he listened to the god and recalled Cerebon’s deep personal losses from the war, prompting him to interrupt. “Lord Cerebon, are you…”

“No, mortal, I am not among those aiding groups such as the Cult of the Unfettered One,” Cerebon said dryly, eyes narrowing slightly in irritation as he cut off Zareth’s question. “Most attribute them to the God of Freedom’s inner circle, who disappeared after the war, due to the way they choose to name themselves. Though why they pursue the System’s destruction rather than their god’s reconstitution is a mystery.”

Cult of the Unfettered One. God of Freedom. How did I not put that together? Zareth thought to himself with a healthy dose of chastisement. He’d even asked Vidhatri for a translation of the name of the anti-System group in Zumair, the Moksha Sanga, after she mentioned them and learned it meant something like “Liberation Group” with a religious connotation.

Zareth was relieved to hear that he wouldn’t be forced to support a group of lunatics that kidnapped people and turned them into magical crystals. Also, while he didn’t like that the System was being exploited by the gods and used to restrict mortals, he didn’t actually want it gone.

The consequences of that would be disastrous if those factions actually succeeded.

…which would presumably be more likely if the pantheons responsible for preserving the System were to suddenly collapse.

Pantheons like the Conclave.

Shit.

“Good. You understand,” Cerebon said with a nod of satisfaction. “Then do you now know why I said it is necessary for you to aid me in the construction of a new pantheon in Tal’Qamar capable of confronting the Conclave?”

“So that we can take on their role after the Conclave has been destroyed,” said Zareth, his mind racing to connect the dots. “That’s why you supported me rooting the Cult of the Unfettered One out of Jabal-Alma, because you know they’ll be targeting us once that happens. But how does that relate to… everything else? The tome of Meldorath? The visions that I received from [Atavistic Insight]?”

“The System requires vast amounts of Ether to function, which is why the established pantheon has gone to great lengths to hide the world’s leyline nexuses,” said Cerebon. “Meldorath’s tome and [Atavistic Apostle] will both aid you greatly in locating the one on Valandor, which is a crucial part of my plans.”

That… made sense to Zareth and put into context a lot of things that he hadn’t previously understood.

He wished that he had been told all of this much earlier instead of being cryptically led around by the nose, but he understood why Cerebon hadn’t done so given how easily this information could have been pulled from his mind.

Zareth wasn’t particularly opposed to any of Cerebon’s wishes. The Conclave was already an enemy, and preventing the System from being destroyed was probably a good idea, but there were a few complications…

“Lord Cerebon, what exactly does it mean to form a pantheon?” asked Zareth, entirely ignorant of divine politics.

“It simply signifies that a group of deities have agreed to cooperate in a fairly formal manner,” said Cerebon. “I’ve already extended overtures to Gendal, Silvaris, the Serene One, and Ghisara. I hold confidence that I’ll be able to convince them of the benefits of mutual cooperation.”

“Then, what exactly is my role in this, Lord Cerebon?” Zareth asked hesitantly, tilting his head in confusion. “Won’t their worshipers fall in line if you persuade their gods?”

“They should, though my agreements with my fellow deities will likely involve you and your cult providing certain services to their mortal followers,” Cerebon said with a dismissive wave before leaning forward in his throne, his maw twisted into a smirk. “However, I speculate that one of them holds ambitions that make her more… troublesome to deal with than the rest. That’s why I’ll need you to verify if my suspicions about her are correct.”

Zareth was only confused for a moment before realizing who Cerebon was referring to, sparking a small surge of anticipation.

“And then, Lord Cerebon?” Zareth asked eagerly as he leaned forward, his own expression shifting to mirror the god’s.

“Then, we either convince Ghisara and her mortal worshipers that her ambitions would be better served aligned with ours,” said Cerebon, his gaze sharp and calculating. “Or I lend you more of my power, and we teach them the consequences of being our enemy.”

Chapter 16

Nasrith watched calmly as more than a dozen heavy boulders were launched through the air toward Fal’Ashar, courtesy of Tal’Qamar’s trebuchets.

Each of them weighed at least 500 pounds, and the force they would strike the walls with would be equivalent to three times that due to their enchantments. Additionally, a skill from the [Siege Officer] allowed the trebuchets to launch them with pinpoint accuracy, allowing the Second Army to focus its attacks.

Nasrith could see several mages on the defending city walls trying to redirect the incoming projectiles, but Tal’Qamari [War Mages] were too well trained to allow such a thing and immediately countered whatever spells the enemy was attempting to cast.

The cacophony of colliding magics echoed across the sands, the air crackling with the energy of mages struggling against each other to turn the tide. Above the din, Nasrith could hear the whistling of the massive stones as they tore through the air, their paths only marginally altered by the efforts of Fal’Ashar’s defenders. Despite the enemy’s best efforts, the boulders maintained their trajectory and reached their target. The ground shuddered with each impact as Fal’Ashar’s walls were struck with enough force to destroy almost any non-magical structure.

However… there was a good reason that Fal’Ashar was known as the City of Enchanters.

“General Nasrith, the Warmage Company have reported that the enemy is activating their Category 6 Anti-Siege Warding,” said Lieutenant Colonel Anaya from his side, dutifully performing her role of serving as an intermediary between him and his officers.

Nasrith grunted in acknowledgment. The siege on Fal’Ashard had been slow and meticulous over the past several months as they gradually wore down each of Fal’Ashar’s Anti-Siege Wards. While Nasrith could have ordered a more aggressive siege, doing so would have cost expensive resources and necessitated that the Second Army use immense force.

This would have been very unwise, given the difficulties that Tal’Qamar had been facing along its logistical routes and the ever-present threat of the Conclave exploiting the Second Army suffering from skill exhaustion. All it would have taken was for the enemy to move a sizable force toward Fal’Ashar while Nasrith’s soldiers were at their most vulnerable, and he would have had no choice but to abandon the siege lest he risk suffering a catastrophic defeat.

Nasrith had done everything possible to keep the front lines far from Fal’Ashar to minimize the risk of being caught between a raid from the besieged city and a relieving force from the Conclave. Nevertheless, there was always an outside possibility that the God of the Twilight Moon’s [Priests] could use their powers to obscure an approaching army during the night.

Clever positioning of [Scouts] with [Detect Threat] could mitigate this risk only so much.

If that were to happen, then Fal’Ashar would be able to recuperate on both supplies and morale, rendering months of effort useless. The additional fortifications which the Conclave would doubtlessly erect around Fal’Ashar would also drastically increase the number of casualties Nasrith would incur if he attempted to take the city again.

Such an outcome would obviously be intolerable.

True to the Warmage Company’s report, the walls of Fal’Ashar soon began to emit a deep, resonant hum, and the air around the city began to shimmer with a translucent energy. Nasrith expected that the incoming projectiles would either be destroyed or simply deflected by Fal’Ashar’s magical shield, so the actual result came as quite a surprise.

As the boulders approached the shimmering barrier around Fal’Ashar, they began to slow dramatically, as if sinking into quicksand, before coming to a complete stop mere inches from the city’s walls. Once halted, the rocks hovered in the air for several moments before suddenly reversing their course at great speed, hurtling toward the Tal’Qamari siege lines with even greater velocity than before.

Nasrith was startled, but he was also far too disciplined to panic and immediately burst into action.

[Unerring Accuracy]. [Bolster Unit: Warmage Company]. [Coordinated Counterattack].

At the same time that Nasrith threw his spear with skill-enhanced accuracy and completely shattered one of the incoming boulders, his [War Mages] began casting their spells in unison. Tal’Qamari soldiers took cover under their shields as a myriad of spells obliterated the incoming projectiles and caused fragments of stone to rain down across the battlefield.

Nasrith trusted his soldiers to properly protect themselves, so he simply activated the enchantment on his spear to return it to his grip and turned his attention back to his lieutenant colonel.

A credit to her training, Anaya was already answering his question before Nasrith could give it voice. “Captain Talrasha has identified Fal’Ashar’s Ward as a variant of the [Greater Repulsion Ward].”

Nasrith was familiar with most of the standard warding spells, but that wasn’t one he recognized. Not to mention the fact that it was apparently a variant.

“Recommended course of action?” asked Nasrith, deciding to rely on his captain’s expertise in this unusual situation.

“It’s… not good, sir. The Warmage Company believes that the standard countermeasures to [Greater Repulsion Ward] aren’t likely to work against this variant,” Lieutenant Colonel Anaya said with a trace of worry in her voice as she stared off into the distance, likely listening to a barrage of incoming messages. “The only guaranteed method to penetrate Fal’Ashar’s ward would be through overwhelming force.”

Nasrith hummed lightly and turned his gaze to the enemy city as he considered his options. If he only needed to worry about purely military considerations, Nasrith would prefer to continue his previous strategy of slowly sieging Fal’Ashar and exhausting the enemy’s resources. That would take a significant amount of time—given that the Conclave began preparations for war almost immediately after they were driven from Tal’Qamar—but it would be preferable to the risk and cost he was taking now.

Even after Apostle Zareth had cleared a magical obstacle ruining supply lines in the Southern Theater, the enchanted ammunition being exhausted by the trebuchets was not simple to replace. It’d taken a significant amount of time and effort to burn through all of the wards previous to this one, and Nasrith’s intelligence officers couldn’t guarantee when it would end.

Especially since Fal’Ashar was rumored to possess a Category 7 Anti-Siege Ward, meaning that it would’ve required a Level 70 spellcaster to construct or an equivalently powerful artifact to create. They really shouldn’t have access to such a thing, but the Conclave was well known for mysteriously producing magic and artifacts from unknown sources.

Such a ward would be… very troublesome to his plans if it was erected.

Unfortunately, political realities meant that he needed to take the risk. Nasrith initially intended to wait until the war was finished to take the first steps in his plan to curtail the power of the Great Houses, but several recent developments had made it… necessary to accelerate his timeline.

It was fortunate that Apostle Zareth had returned to Tal’Qamar several days ago and seemed to have already begun handling his part of their agreement.

While he had officers of sufficient competence and levels to take over command for most battles, none were as adept as Nasrith when it came to conducting a siege. Therefore, he had little choice but to ensure that Fal’Ashar was taken as quickly as possible so that Nasrith could safely leave the battlefield and resign himself to suffering through Tal’Qamar’s internal politics.

Nasrith clenched his jaw as he realized what he would need to do in order to secure victory before letting out a breath and resolving himself to take decisive action.

I swear that I will exact retribution against those who’ve forced my hand, Nasrith silently vowed as he turned his attention back to his subordinate and delivered his orders. “Lieutenant Colonel, direct all forces capable of long-range attacks to commence their assault on Fal’Ashar’s wards. Redirect all defensive units to protect against the enemy’s counterattacks.”

Lieutenant Colonel Anaya was silent for a moment before she hesitantly responded. “Sir… are you certain? Even if we make preparations, the [Greater Repulsion Ward] will cause us to suffer unnecessary casualties before we are able to overwhelm it.”

“You’re mistaken, Lieutenant Colonel. Those casualties are anything but unnecessary,” Nasrith said firmly, his tone leaving no room for doubt. “Moreover, they are unavoidable. If the Warmage Company claims that the only means of breaching the ward is through overwhelming force, then there’s little chance that we will be able to discover an alternative means. Fal’Ashar is too strategically important to ignore, and we’ll never have a better moment than now to take it with all of our forces organized outside of their walls. So we shall seize the opportunity.”

What Nasrith didn’t say was that Archmage Agnazir may have been able to find an alternative means of destroying the [Greater Repulsion Ward], but he wasn’t confident that he could convince the man to help. Agnazir was still currently in Jabal-Alma, engrossed in his research, and wouldn’t appreciate being pulled away from that to engage in a siege.

No matter that the archmage could easily save the lives of Nasrith’s soldiers and shorten the siege drastically. Such a detail was obviously insignificant to someone like Agnazir, which was just another sign that Nasrith needed to prioritize gaining influence over the Great Houses.

“In addition, there’s a notable chance that Fal’Ashar will be caught off guard by us launching a full assault rather than slowly dismantling their ward, as we did previously,” Nasrith continued as he stared at the enemy city with a steely gaze. “It takes time to erect wards as powerful as this one, and the moment of surprise may give us the advantage we need to decisively seize control.”

Lieutenant Colonel Anaya seemed far from pleased but eventually succumbed to her training and his logic.

It didn’t take long for Nasrith’s orders to spread across the battlefield and for his well-disciplined troops to organize themselves. Bulwarks and [Shieldbearers] quickly placed themselves besides [Archers] and [War Mages], fully prepared to place themselves in the line of fire to protect their fellow soldiers.

Once everyone was in position, Lieutenant Colonel looked to him for the final order. Nasrith surveyed the scene before him one final time, his eyes sharp and focused. When he could find no reason to delay, Nasrith took a moment to activate a few skills to enhance his soldiers.

[Victory for Recompense]. [Bolster Unit: Second Army]. [Amplify Agility: Second Army].

The first two of these skills were similar in that they provided a general boost to the stats of all soldiers they affected, though [Victory for Recompense] was much stronger and scaled in effectiveness with how much his soldiers stood to benefit from victory. Given that Fal’Ashar was a bastion of Conclave activity and its populace would remain highly loyal to Tal’Qamar’s enemies, Nasrith fully intended to loot it for every resource, magical artifact, and scrap of knowledge it possessed.

Thus, Nasrith could immediately sense [Victory for Recompense] surge in potency as it swept over the Second Army, filling his soldiers with power. He only hoped that when combined with [Amplify Agility], it would be enough to allow his soldiers to evade the majority of counterattacks from Fal’Ashar’s defenses.

With nothing left to do, Nasrith nodded to his lieutenant colonel and gave the order. “Initiate the assault.”

Within moments after he finished speaking, the full might of Tal’Qamar’s second army bore down on the City of Enchanters.

Siege weapons roared to life, and a relentless barrage of massive boulders rained down on Fal’Ashar’s magical barrier. Nasrith’s [Siege Officer] unleashed his strongest skills, causing the siege weapons to fire twice as often, the projectiles to move nearly three times as fast, and even spontaneously multiply mid-air in a show of strength that would reduce most cities to rubble.

[Archers] and [War Mages] simultaneously launched a coordinated assault, attacking the same portion of the ward as the siege weapons. The air was split by the sound of arrows powerful enough to pierce through steel and spells that shook the earth in their intensity.

Even the Desharin and the ogre [Shamans] contributed by directing their sand elementals and spirits to throw themselves against the ward.

The scene was one that filled Nasrith with pride as Fal’Ashar was bombarded by the relentless onslaught, empowered by his skills. The [Greater Repulsion Ward] flared to life with each attack, trying desperately and succeeding for some time in repelling the assault. Boulders, arrows, and bolts of lightning slowed as they approached the barrier before being reflected back at the forces of Tal’Qamar.

However, Nasrith’s skills had drastically increased the Agility of his soldiers, allowing them to react swiftly to these projectiles.

[Archers] expertly moved to the side as arrows flew back toward them, not ceasing in their attacks for even a moment. [War Mages] were much less nimble in general, but the [Shieldbearers] compensated by placing themselves in between any returning spellfire. The most vulnerable portion of the attacks was the line of siege weapons, which was why Nasrith and several other high-level individuals dedicated themselves fully to intercepting any retaliatory strikes.

Despite this, the end result was a chaotic and almost ridiculous exchange of attacks that caused the battlefield to look like an absolute whirlwind of lethal projectiles. Even with their enhanced Agility, there were many soldiers who either couldn’t avoid the counterattack or simply got unlucky and were struck by some other debris or misaimed spell.

The casualties that the Second Army was suffering would likely be more than in most battles. Nasrith would have called off the attack in order to avoid such an outcome if not for the fact that he could see Fal’Ashar’s [Greater Repulsion Ward] beginning to show signs of weakening.

The continuous barrage was gradually taking its toll, causing cracks to spread like a spider web across the shimmering barrier, growing more pronounced by the moment.

“Do not falter!” Nasrith shouted as he hurled his spear to another boulder and activated [Commanding Voice] to ensure that he was heard over the cacophony of battle. “Fal’Ashar shall be ours!”

Nasrith’s bellow was reciprocated by a resounding roar from his soldiers and an intensification of their attacks. The spider web cracks all around Fal’Ashar grew ever more fractured, spreading across the barrier like wildfire.

“Sir, the Warmage Company believes that the enemy’s ward is close to collapsing,” Lieutenant Colonel Anaya urgently reported. “They also sense a massive swell of magic from within the city consistent with the activation of a potential Category 7 Anti-Siege Ward! Estimated time of both is 1 and 15 minutes, respectively!”

Then that gives us 14 minutes to prevent its activation, Nasrith thought grimly as he considered his options and quickly reached a conclusion. This is the best opportunity to take Fal’Ashar. It would take several months to wear down such a powerful Anti-Siege Ward. Months that we don’t have before the Conclave has finished their preparations in Fal’Farakh…

“Do we know from where specifically this surge of magic is emanating?” asked Nasrith, hoping that it wouldn’t be from the deepest parts of Fal’Ashar. “The enemy must be using an artifact, as our best intelligence reports place Enchanter Lord Ghalid’s level as somewhere in the upper 50s or lower 60s at most. Even he wouldn’t be able to invoke such a powerful ward with his own power.”

More importantly, the [Enchanter Lord] would be at his most vulnerable while focusing on establishing the ward. This meant that now was the perfect time to deal with the troublesome old man.

The lieutenant colonel was silent for several moments as she communicated with Captain Talrasha before finally responding. “The source of magic originates along Fal’Ashar’s northern ramparts. The Warmage Company claims that the enemy is using their city’s heavily enchanted walls as an anchor for the ward, meaning they can’t stray too far from it during the ritual.”

Nasrith felt a trace of relief. Dealing with Enchanter Lord Ghalid would’ve been nearly impossible if the old man had been isolated in some highly fortified hole somewhere in Fal’Ashar.

With his decision made, Nasrith tightening his grip on his spear and charged down the dune he had been surveying from. He left the eastern section where the Second Army was concentrating its attacks and headed straight to the northern section of Fal’Ashar.

Approximately a minute later, the Warmage Company unleashed a devastating [Siege Fireball] large enough to swallow entire buildings whole, causing the [Greater Repulsion Ward] to completely shatter in an ear-splitting explosion of magic. The resulting shockwave was enough to knock several soldiers near Fal’Ashar directly off their feet, but Nasrith simply ignored it and scanned his gaze over the ramparts as he continued his charge.

He could already see several [Enchanters] and [Aegis Casters] frantically working in concert to protect the city’s walls against the Second Army’s onslaught. The speed at which their Anti-Siege Ward had been destroyed had obviously caught them severely off guard, and they were scrambling to defend themselves.

Unfortunately for them, Nasrith had absolutely no intention of allowing this opportunity to slip through his grasp.

Once he was around 20 feet away from Fal’Ashar’s walls, Nasrith ceased his charge and took a single moment to coil his serpentine tail. Once every single muscle in his tail was tensed as tightly as possible, he pointed himself toward the densest grouping of enemy forces on Fal’Ashar’s ramparts.

Nasrith couldn’t explicitly make out Enchanter Lord Ghalid among the rabble, but it served to reason that he would be there.

With a burst of power that sent sand flying in all directions and caused a deafening tempest of wind, Nasrith surged upward like a thunderbolt. He could feel the protective enchantments in Fal’Ashar’s walls respond to his intrusion, attempting to repel him as they would any unauthorized individual trying to jump or fly over the walls.

[Unimpeded Advance].

The enemy enchantment sputtered and failed under the brute force of Nasrith’s skill. In less than a heartbeat, he found himself surging through the air and looking directly down at a cluster of Fal’Ashar soldiers who clearly didn’t have enough Agility to have tracked his immense speed.

Enchanter Lord Ghalid, a white-haired human man with an abnormally long beard, was surrounded by some manner of magical barrier and a half-dozen [Enchanters] alongside a good number of his personal guard. Each of them was almost certainly equipped from head to toe in some of the best enchanted gear on the continent, and Nasrith could even see several of them beginning to react to his attack.

Not even I could handle such a force on my own, Nasrith observed dispassionately, his perception as if time had slowed as he turned his gaze to the soldier directly beneath him. I suppose that means that I should focus on reducing their numbers until reinforcements arrive.

So decided, Nasrith thrust his spear downward through the chest of a female human wearing robes, presumably an [Enchanter], until his weapon buried itself in Fal’Ashar’s ramparts and arrested his movement. The sudden stop sent a powerful ripple of force through Nasrith’s scales, but he ignored this in favor of flicking his tail like a whip to snap the neck of a large lizardkin man and send him flying into the largest grouping of soldiers.

One of the Enchanter Lord’s guards broke formation further down the ramparts and charged at Nasrith, his eyes blazing with hatred as he swung a flaming scimitar.

“No! Jeshina! I’ll kill you!”

Nasrith realized that the name most likely belonged to the corpse skewered on his spear. The man was fast enough that he could’ve challenged many of Nasrith’s officers, which was actually somewhat impressive.

But only somewhat.

Nasrith swiftly pulled his spear out of the dead [Enchanter] and hurled it through the chest of the man in an explosion of gore and into the skull of an [Archer] who had been taking aim at him farther down the rampart.

A large warhammer smashed against the back of Nasrith’s head but failed to do any real damage against his enchanted helmet and high Vitality. Nasrith rewarded the brave soldier who had struck him by whirling around and punching her so hard in the chest that the human’s armor crumpled in on itself and her ribs likely shattered completely.

Feeling merciful, Nasrith quickly summoned his spear back to his grasp and finished the soldier off with a single thrust before charging in the direction opposite of the Enchanter Lord and his protective circle.

His strategy was simple; clear out an area of any enemy forces and secure a foothold for his own forces to make their way onto ramparts. He’d already used [Commanding Edict] to order Captain Talrasha and Captain Serithal to gather a small group of their highest-leveled soldiers and join him at the ramparts. Nasrith would have preferred to simply overwhelm the enemy with numbers, but much like most commanding skills, [Unimpeded Advance] faced diminishing returns the more people it affected.

The enchantments on Fal’Ashar’s walls were powerful enough that Nasrith could only forcibly break through a few squads of soldiers.

Nasrith’s movements were a blur of steel and blood as he turned into a whirlwind of carnage, single-handedly slaughtering dozens of enemy soldiers in moments. Some of his enemies were higher-leveled and more skilled than average—while also wearing potent enchanted equipment that only the Great Houses could likely acquire in Tal’Qamar.

But against a Level 63 [Warlord of Ambition], this only meant that they lasted for a few seconds longer than their companions.

It wasn’t long before Nasrith lost himself in the frenzy of battle.

Nasrith reacted instantly to the sound of a projectile cutting the air behind him, leveraging his naga anatomy to pull his upper body low to the ground. The arrow missed him and instead pierced the chest of an advancing Fal’Ashar soldier before promptly turning the soldier into solid stone.

Nasrith was respectful enough to slither around it, keeping himself far lower than the primarily lizardkin, human, and occasional ogre Fal’Ashar soldiers were accustomed to engaging. His spear easily severed legs with wide sweeps and pierced through vital spots with pinpoint thrusts as he undulated down the ramparts. At one point, an enemy [Aeromancer] attempted to attack Nasrith from above, but he very fatally learned that naga were just as capable of lethal vertical strikes as they were on the ground.

By the time Nasrith landed back onto the ramparts with a crushed pile of meat caught within his coils, the Fal’Ashar defenders finally realized that they were outmatched and routed. Panic spread like wildfire, and the undisciplined cowards scattered like insects, many of them even jumping down from the high walls and into Fal’Ashar proper.

But much to their misfortune, both Nasrith and his soldiers had been trained to exploit enemy vulnerabilities whenever possible.

[Unimpeded Advance].

Nasrith watched with satisfaction as more than a dozen of the Second Army’s finest soldiers leapt onto the ramparts as soon as his skill washed over them.

The enemy’s frenzied retreat only grew more panicked as Captain Serithal cut them down with his sword and Captain Talrasha set them ablaze with spellfire. It only took a few moments before a good portion of the northern ramparts had been seized by Tal’Qamari forces.

Though as Nasrith looked back in the direction he came, it was clear that Enchanter Lord Ghalid and his retinue were made from sterner steel. Ghalid hadn’t ceased his spellcasting for a moment, single-mindedly focused on erecting the ward around Fal’Ashar while his guards had begun fortifying the area around their leader.

Nasrith could tell that several more layers of magical barriers were being rapidly constructed around Ghalid by his [Enchanters], meaning that it would be much more difficult to reach him.

“Your orders, sir?” asked Captain Talrasha, shouting over the roar of the Second Army attempting to break a hole through Fal’Ashar’s eastern walls. “I can sense Enchanter Lord Ghalid’s magic swelling with each passing moment. I estimate that we have less than 5 minutes to intervene before he erects the Category 7 ward.”

Nasrith’s mind immediately began racing with plans before settling on one that was rather straightforward. “We shall assault them directly. Captain Serithal, you and anyone else with Plaguebringer augmentations are to create a miasma of poisoned mist around the Enchanter Lord to confuse and weaken their defenses. Everyone else, fight at your discretion with the objective of distracting the Enchanter Lord’s retinue. I will need to focus on piercing Ghalid’s barriers.”

Captain Serithal nodded, his face set in grim determination. “Sir, what about those of us who aren’t immune to the poisonous effects of the miasma?”

“Even if much of my focus is dedicated to maintaining [Unimpeded Advance], I’m still able to sustain another skill for a mere five minutes, Captain,” Nasrith explained to his fellow naga as he activated [Amplify Vitality] and spread it over the nearby troops. “This should prevent the miasma from affecting our own forces negatively. At least for the duration of this engagement.”

With no more questions and little time to waste, Captain Serithal immediately organized the troops and moved to execute Nasrith’s plan. The Plaguebringer soldiers initiated the assault by releasing toxic mist, which Captain Talrasha propelled further along the ramparts with a powerful gust of wind. This cloud swiftly enveloped the Enchanter Lord and his retinue, cloaking them in a veil of poison.

“[Indomitable Charge]!” Nasrith called out as he led the spearhead, charging directly toward Ghalid and his defenders. He was intent on not allowing them time to counter the miasma.

Unfortunately, Enchanter Lord Ghalid’s retinue proved drastically more competent, organized, and equipped than the rest of the rabble that Nasrith had just finished putting down. The most heavily armored of them quickly formed a defensive line in front of Ghalid, thrusting their enchanted shields forward and projecting a series of shimmering barriers that rose high into the air.

Nasrith saw no way to maneuver around them and simply collided with them spear first. His natural Strength combined with [Indomitable Charge] resulted in an immense force that immediately shattered the barriers, but his charge had been successfully blunted.

“General! To your left!”

Nasrith sensed the incoming attack cutting through the air almost immediately after Captain Talrasha’s warning and recoiled back on his tail to avoid an invisible blade aimed at his neck. He then pivoted and thrust his spear forward faster than most people could process, anticipating that his attacker would become visible after he pierced through their heart.

They did indeed become visible—seeming to be a female lizardkin covered completely in gleaming armor that glowed brightly with magic—but Nasrith was more than a little surprised when his spear simply passed through them as if they were a ghost.

Nasrith couldn’t help but feel impressed. The Enchanter Lord had truly given his retinue some very powerful equipment. He would’ve genuinely found something like this difficult to deal with if he were a lesser general.

But Nasrith was one of the most feared men among the Qahtani city-states for a good reason.

“[Imposed Command]. Kill your allies,” Nasrith said calmly, his skill immediately struggling against the lizardkin’s Willpower and very quickly overpowering her ability to resist.

Nasrith could feel the beginnings of skill exhaustion after using that skill, but it was worth it. The only sign of the lizardkin warrior’s unwillingness was her terror-stricken eyes as she turned her invisible blade against her comrades, who seemed unprepared for the sudden betrayal. It was at this moment that Captains Talrasha and Serithal—along with the rest of the Tal’Qamari forces—finally caught up to Nasrith and crashed into the enemy’s ranks while under the influence of [Indomitable Charge].

The miasma of poison continued to spread, further weakening the resolve and physical capabilities of Ghalid’s defenders. It spoke to the enemy’s competency that they didn’t immediately collapse under the onslaught, but they were more than sufficiently distracted for Nasrith to slither through their defenses under the cover of the miasma.

Amid the chaos, Nasrith locked his sights onto Enchanter Lord Ghalid, who still stood well protected within a violet barrier of magic as he focused intently on a small object floating directly in front of him. Further observation revealed that the artifact was covered in runes and polyhedral in shape, indicating that it was most likely a Spell Repository designed to store spells.

Weaving his way through the crowd of enemy forces like a viper through grass, Nasrith exploited his superior speed and maneuverability to bypass the last of Ghalid’s defenders.

As he closed in on his target, Nasrith knew that Ghalid’s barriers would be the strongest that Fal’Ashar had to offer and that he needed to destroy them as quickly as possible if he wished to have any hope of succeeding in time. Nasrith was extremely powerful and was currently equipped with the greatest armaments that House Vhelan could provide, but such a feat would be difficult for even most combat-oriented Level 60s.

Fortunately, few things in the world could rival the lethality of a high-level Commander class individual backed by a well-equipped army. Ceasing all of his ongoing skills except [Unimpeded Advance] so that he wouldn’t suffer from debilitating skill exhaustion, Nasrith immediately used several different skills at once.

[Unerring Accuracy: Siege Company]. [Extended Range: Siege Company]. [Instantaneous Barrage: Siege Company].

Nasrith almost wished that he was still at his command center so that he could hear the creaking sound of trebuchets releasing their payloads in rapid succession. However, watching more than a dozen heavy boulders fly above his head and land with pinpoint accuracy upon the barrier surrounding Enchanter Lord Ghalid was satisfying enough to put a smile on his face.

The enchanted and skill-enhanced projectiles struck with force akin to the wrath of an [Archmage], shaking the ramparts and even causing cracks to form in Fal’Ashar’s famously impenetrable walls. By the time all of the boulders had landed, several layers of the barriers had been destroyed, and the last remaining one was flickering uncertainly, making it easy for him to shatter it with a thrust of his spear.

Nasrith didn’t hesitate to lunge toward Enchanter Lord Ghalid spear first, though he didn’t allow his guard to fall for a moment. Even if Ghalid was an aristocrat who had no public history of combat experience, he was only slightly lower-level than Nasrith and there were few rulers who managed to live into old age without learning a trick or two.

That caution likely saved Nasrith’s life. As he advanced, Ghalid made a swift gesture toward him and activated an enchanted ring that unleashed a beam of bright energy directly at Nasrith. He instantly dodged to the side but was caught off-guard when he found himself unbalanced and slightly weaker than expected.

It only took a moment for Nasrith to realize that all of the enchantments on his equipment had been made inert or destroyed in the past few seconds.

“The Butcher of Tal’Qamar, here to seize my city,” said Enchanter Lord Ghalid, his voice cold as he chased Nasrith with the beam of searing light from one hand while steadfastly extending the other toward the Spell Repository. “You don’t understand what you’re doing or the peril you risk by allowing the invasive gods into our midst. Only the Conclave is fit to be custodian of these lands and what lies beneath it.”

Speaking during combat? How undisciplined, Nasrith thought as he scoffed dismissively and slowly began to approach the Enchanter Lord while weaving between arcs of plasma that the old man was throwing at him.

“The masters you serve are ignorant fools who will doom us all with their greed, naga!” Enchanter Lord Ghalid shouted as he ceased his attack and activated a different ring, this time creating a tempest so powerful that even Nasrith found it difficult to approach. “Surrender now and you may still be forgiven! Your actions will lead us all to nothing but⁠—”

The Enchanter Lord’s impassioned plea was cut short as the old man finally spotted the several incoming boulders threatening to turn him into a smear on the ramparts.

Nasrith expected Ghalid to finally step away from the Spell Repository and use one of his many enchanted items to move out of the way. Instead, the Enchanter Lord extended a hand toward the incoming projectiles, somehow causing each of them to suddenly disappear into thin air as soon as they drew close.

It was an impressive display of what was most likely spatial magic. But unfortunately for Ghalid, it meant that he had stopped engaging directly with his opponent.

Nasrith immediately took advantage and closed the distance within a blink of an eye, swinging his spear at Ghalid with the intent to remove the old man’s limbs. Better to capture the Enchanter Lord alive for both political and intelligence-gathering reasons.

Nasrith wasn’t at all surprised when his weapon passed through Ghalid’s body as if it were nothing but mist, much like it had with the lizardkin from before. [Imposed Command] would doubtlessly fail against the Enchanter Lord, as his higher level and spellcaster class meant that his Willpower would likely be higher than even Nasrith’s.

That being the case, he decided to simply turn his weapon toward the other priority target.

Ghalid must have realized his intention at the last moment, as he began shouting just as Nasrith’s spear passed through his body and arced toward the Spell Repository. “Wait! Stay your bla⁠—”

The Enchanter Lord was interrupted as Nasrith cut through the Spell Repository, shattering it into a thousand shimmering pieces and releasing an intense explosion of uncontrolled magic. Nasrith’s high natural Vitality allowed him to withstand the magical backlash without too much issue, but Ghalid was clearly not as fortunate.

The blast knocked him off his feet, leaving him dazed and vulnerable on the ground. But most importantly, it meant that the Enchanter Lord wasn’t concentrating on keeping himself intangible.

Ghalid shouted in pain as Nasrith promptly removed both of his hands with two swift strokes of his spear, depriving him of his enchanted rings, before trapping the old man tightly within his coils. Nasrith glanced back at his soldiers to ensure that they were faring well against the remaining Fal’Ashari defenders—who seemed to be faltering after seeing their leader captured and the Spell Repository broken.

It wasn’t long before the Enchanter Lord’s retinue either surrendered or were cut down.

“Secure the ramparts! Make your way to the eastern gate and allow our forces into the city!” Nasrith barked out the order over the chaos, even as he began dispassionately stripping Enchanter Lord Ghalid of any item that could be dangerous.

Which was essentially everything, given that he was, in fact, an [Enchanter Lord].

“Captain Thalsara, stay behind and help me search for any hidden artifacts on the Enchanter Lord’s person,” Nasrith ordered, well aware that he needed someone with [Magic Perception] to ensure that he made no mistakes. He had no intention of allowing carelessness to undermine the success of their conquest.

“Are you satisfied, Butcher?” Ghalid gritted out through a pained expression, still trapped within Nasrith’s coils as his robes were unceremoniously ripped from his body. “Do you feel pride in taking this city? In marching us all one step further into the abyss?”

Nasrith generally wasn’t one to waste time on “banter” during campaigns, but the battle had essentially been won with the destruction of the Spell Repository, and Fal’Ashar would soon be theirs. Oh, there was still much blood left to be spilled once they started dealing with the local garrison, but the Second Army was more than equipped to deal with them.

That being the case, Nasrith supposed that he could allow himself a moment to gather potentially useful information from the Enchanter Lord while the sting of defeat still loosened his tongue.

“Fal’Ashar’s enchantments and defenses may be impressive, but your city’s military acumen is too pathetic for me to feel any pride in your defeat,” Nasrith said honestly as he removed one of the old man’s earrings. “As for your claim that I am ‘marching us one step further into the abyss,’ I hardly believe that the Great Houses are any more corrupt than your Conclave.”

“Not everything revolves around you and your fellow snakes, Butcher!” Enchanter Lord Ghalid all but spat as he glared at Nasrith. “It is the invasive gods and their servants who should warrant your concern. It is they who will cause irreparable harm if allowed to accumulate power and supplant the Conclave from their rightful role!”

Nasrith paused briefly in genuine surprise and studied the old man wrapped in his coils to see if the old man actually believed the nonsense coming out of his mouth. Nasrith didn’t share the belief that his “fellow snakes” had in the inherent superiority of naga—instead preferring the battle-tested superiority of steel and discipline. But even so, he found it ludicrous to consider a few paltry religious groups as larger threats than the Great Houses.

Despite this, Nasrith found nothing but unfettered confidence in Enchanter Lord Ghalid’s expression.

“And why exactly should I consider them to be a threat?” asked Nasrith, deciding to prod the Enchanter Lord for further information. Even if this was a transparent attempt by the Conclave to sow discord amongst their enemies, he may still gain insights from listening. “The Hierophant’s Council has shown no sign of disloyalty to Tal’Qamar, and they are too weak besides to pose a significant threat on their own.”

Enchanter Lord Ghalid let out a grim chuckle as his expression grew condescending. “Oh, it is truly amusing to witness how ignorant you snakes are of the divine machinations that surround you. It matters little how weak or loyal your ‘Hierophant’s Council’ may appear to be. It is their gods who control them in the end, and it is they who will inevitably collaborate to accumulate power and supplant the established order.”

Receiving such unhelpfully cryptic warnings, Nasrith was more confident than ever that Ghalid was merely equivocating in an attempt to sow discord. However, Nasrith had never been one to dismiss potentially useful intelligence without first giving it due consideration, so he took a moment to reflect on the information at hand and conduct a quick threat assessment.

Ghalid wasn’t incorrect that the Hierophant’s Council was showing signs of increasing collaboration, but that was completely within Nasrith’s expectations given the agreement he’d made with the Cult of Cerebon.

It had been approximately a week since Apostle Zareth had returned to Tal’Qamar, and the young human had reportedly spent a few days in his spire before starting to reach out more to his peers. High Command’s [Spies] had difficulty infiltrating the areas where each of the religious groups had “consecrated” as their own—such as the spires or temples—but nothing particularly unexpected had been brought to Nasrith’s attention. No major agreements had been made; instead, Apostle Zareth appeared to be initiating diplomatic outreach by engaging other religious leaders and inviting them to exploratory discussions.

It would be ridiculous for him to consider that suspicious given that Apostle Zareth was acting as he should if he was truly seeking to sway his peers to support Nasrith against the Great Houses.

The Priesthood of Silvaris and the Way of Gendal were also acting as expected, continuing to focus primarily on their own people while making moderate contributions to the war effort. The Order of the Serene Path was… somewhat more complicated, as intelligence reports claimed that they would soon be receiving foreign support from their primary temples in Great Mu, but that wasn’t necessarily a surprise either.

The Circle of Ghisara was the most unpredictable factor, which Nasrith knew the least about, but it was generally fine to analyze them through their strong ties to House Khrysar. But given the escalating challenges Nasrith faced from every Great House—excluding House Vhelen—in his efforts to establish control over Tal’Qamar, that probably wasn’t particularly good news.

“I can see that you don’t believe me, Butcher,” said Enchanter Lord Ghalid, his voice almost pitying as he watched Nasrith with cold, calculating eyes. “But heed my warning. They will keep secrets from you and collaborate to advance their agenda. I suggest that when you return to Tal’Qamar with word of your failure here, you monitor them very closely.”

The very moment that Enchanter Lord Ghalid uttered the word “failure” with complete surety in his eyes, Nasrith felt a cold ripple down his scales and immediately moved to knock the old man unconscious to prevent whatever he might be plotting. Woefully, he was too late, and an intense corrosive burning across his tail caused Nasrith to yell out in pain and release the Enchanter Lord.

How?! He’s been stripped of all his enchanted items, and Captain Talrasha should have warned me if he sensed any magic! Nasrith frantically wondered as he attempted to fight through the pain and looked down at his tail. It became clear that the damage was significant when he saw that chunks of it had been completely corroded.

Taken by surprise and uncertain of the immediate danger, Nasrith seized Captain Talrasha by the shoulder and propelled them both backward with a powerful leap, creating distance between them and the Enchanter Lord. This decision proved wise, as a surge of dark red energy struck the spot they had just vacated, rapidly corroding the stones below.

No… not corroding. Degrading.

“Sir! He’s not using magic! It’s Divine Essence!” Captain Talrasha shouted, immediately confirming Nasrith’s horrible suspicion. Because if Enchanter Lord Ghalid was favored enough by Amareal, God of Degradation, to call upon his power, then it was highly likely that he could also call upon the other half of the Twin Gods.

The two gods had separate priesthoods, but the Twin Gods were well known for being unusually willing to share power amongst their followers.

Sure enough, when Nasrith turned his gaze back to Ghalid, he saw the old man dashing toward the broken remnants of the Spell Repository with hands that had been completely regrown. A multitude of different plans raced through Nasrith’s mind as he considered how to respond, but he knew that he had few options when he saw Ghalid touch a remnant of the Spell Repository.

The Enchanter Lord invoked the power of Nuriel, God of Restoration, and in an instant, the shattered pieces of the artifact seamlessly reassembled into their original, unblemished form.

“General, the Spell Repository feels as if it’s ready to be activated!” Captain Talrasha warned urgently. He had the good sense to throw a stream of fire toward Ghalid, but a shield of dark red energy rose around the old man and quenched the flames, degrading them into nonexistence.

Cursed, capricious gods!

It was usually only religious classes like [Priest] or [Paladins] who were allowed to wield the power of their gods. Oh, Nasrith was well aware that this rule wasn’t universal—as had been amply demonstrated by the [Ambassador] who had been infused with Suhail’s power and started this war. However, this not only required intense devotion from the mortal receiving the deity’s power but also heavily deteriorated a person if they lacked a class designed to channel Divine Essence.

Even now, the Enchanter Lord’s body was beginning to collapse and erode under the divine power that he was channeling, his flesh falling away in pieces as the energy consumed him.

Nasrith had received absolutely no intelligence reports that implied Ghalid possessed the devotion or resolve to be such a person, which was why he had failed to consider the Enchanter Lord to still be a threat. Without his equipment, an aristocrat with a non-combat class shouldn’t have been able to injure someone of Nasrith’s caliber more heavily than he had been in years, yet that was exactly what happened.

Faced with an enemy with unknown capabilities, equipment that had been entirely stripped of their enchantments, and by now suffering increasingly heavy symptoms of skill exhaustion, Nasrith did the only thing that he could. He glared at the Enchanter Lord with a steely gaze and promised himself that he would repay this humiliation in blood before throwing both himself and Captain Talrasha off the ramparts away from Fal’Ashar.

He couldn’t risk being trapped within an enemy city once the ward activated. Not even he would be able to survive against the Fal’Ashari garrison, which likely numbered in the thousands.

Moments after the two of them landed in the sands, Ghalid finished activating the Spell Repository, and the Category 7 Anti-Siege Ward fell over Fal’Ashar.

It didn’t take long to realize how it worked when Nasrith saw projectiles from the Second Army completely disappearing as they approached Fal’Ashar, similar to how the Enchanter Lord had protected himself from the trebuchet-launched boulders. While it lacked the retaliatory element of the [Greater Repulsion Ward], his instincts told Nasrith that overwhelming force would be far less effective against this one than the previous.

It took everything Nasrith had to stop himself from hissing at the city like an angry hatchling.

“Sir, what should we do now?” asked Captain Talrasha, pulling Nasrith’s attention back to reality.

As much as he might want to spend his time glaring at the city that would now take several more months to capture, he had responsibilities needing to be addressed.

“We shall return to the rest of the Second Army, Captain, and conduct a review of everything that went poorly,” General Nasrith said firmly as he began making his way to the eastern side of Fal’Ashar.

The captain began following him after only a moment of silent hesitation, and Nasrith turned his attention to picking apart every mistake that led to him suffering one of the worst strategic blunders that he had made since he was a colonel.

The most obvious of them was allowing Ghalid time to speak with the intention of gathering information rather than knocking the old man unconscious immediately, then interrogating him later. Although, that entire conversation now seemed… quite strange with the added context that Ghalid could have escaped Nasrith hold whenever he wanted and put up a much stronger fight from the beginning.

Had the Conclave truly gone to such great lengths just to sow a few seeds of doubt in Nasrith’s mind? It seemed illogical, unless the Conclave truly knew something about the situation that he didn’t…

Nasrith forced these thoughts out of his mind, deeming them to be unhelpfully speculative. With his… failure to capture Fal’Ashar quickly, there was little preventing him from returning to Tal’Qamar as planned to deal with the city’s internal politics.

That being the case, Nasrith would have ample time to evaluate matters himself and reach a conclusion.

The truth would reveal itself in time.

Chapter 17

“How troublesome,” Zareth muttered to himself as he meticulously studied his surroundings.

It’d been a while since he had conducted his most recent ritual, and he’d almost forgotten just how tedious it was to set up the necessary components. That was even more the case with a ritual as ludicrously complex as the one that Cerebon had stuffed into Zareth’s head at the end of their little history lesson.

Zareth swept his gaze across his laboratory—which had been cleared of pretty much all of his experiments and alchemical equipment. The members of his cult had been… moderately disturbed by some of the things that Zareth had been forced to relocate; however, the vast array of esoteric runes and arcane symbols that he’d painstakingly etched into every inch of the laboratory’s fleshy surfaces was completely necessary.

How does this nonsense even work? Zareth irately wondered not for the first time as he noticed and fixed a small error in one of the runes. He much preferred the System and its slightly more defined rules than the nonsensical squiggly lines that Cerebon swore would work as intended.

After the god had offered his full and unwavering support in pursuit of their shared agenda, he and Zareth had spent a while discussing the matter in Cerebon’s divine realm. Although Cerebon insisted that it would be relatively easy to get the other religious groups on board to form a pantheon after he came into accord with their respective deities, that wasn’t quite enough in Zareth’s opinion.

A truly reliable alliance needed more than just superficial shared goals and verbal agreements if it was going to stand the test of time. It needed mutual interests that were tightly intertwined and bound together in a way that couldn’t easily be undone by the changing whims of mysterious deities.

Zareth couldn’t trust that ancient history related to the System War would be enough. As someone who had tasted the bitterness of betrayal, nothing but ironclad assurance would satisfy him.

His conversation with Cerebon had led to Zareth proposing and discounting many different ideas on how to accomplish that, and they’d eventually settled on a… very ambitious plan.

It’s just a shame those plans require me to spend literal hours setting up this damned ritual, Zareth thought with frustration. I can’t even have Vidhatri or anyone else help me because I’m the only one who was given the knowledge to⁠—

Zareth flinched in surprise as something hit the side of his head, only for him to look down and see one of the small biomass balls that the cult’s kids had taken to playing with. Looking in the direction it came from, Zareth quickly caught sight of Rizok staring at him with an irritated expression while holding several parchments.

“You haven’t listened to a word that I’ve been saying, have you?” Rizok said in a deadpan voice, looking up from the papers as the silence stretched on for a little too long.

Zareth winced as he suddenly recalled that Rizok had come down into the laboratory to brief him about Tal’Qamar’s current political situation ahead of his meeting with the rest of the Hierophant’s Council.

He’d just sort of… zoned out a little and lost himself in his own thoughts.

“Uh, of course I have!” Zareth immediately denied, forcing a smile and frantically using every bit of his mental stats to piece together what Rizok had been speaking on. “You were just talking about the war. And a… defeat? General Nasrith is as impressive as always for winning against the Conclave.”

Zareth held Rizok’s gaze for several moments before grimacing when it became clear that he must have gotten something wrong.

“Close. Except completely wrong,” Rizok said once Zareth began to squirm under his scrutinizing gaze. “I was, in fact, informing you of General Nasrith’s defeat and failure to secure Fal’Ashar, the presumed death of Enchanter Lord Ghalid, and the effect these events will have on the future of the war and Tal’Qamari politics.”

Oh. That does sound fairly important…

“Ah, sorry. I guess I was a little distracted with my work,” Zareth apologized before picking up the ball and looking at his friend with an inquisitive expression. “But weren’t we supposed to be having this meeting later in my office? And… why were you carrying one of these?”

“Confiscated it from the kids after they kept throwing it at Glurp,” Rizok said as he retrieved the ball and slipped it into his satchel. “The time for our meeting has well come and gone. You’ve been down here for much longer than you believe. Besides, Vidhatri is having too much fun reorganizing your office for me to interrupt her.” Rizok’s tone softened slightly, his eyes glimmering with amusement. “It’s really quite adorable.”

Somehow, Zareth doubted that.

After returning to Tal’Qamar and seeing that Meldorath’s Heart had finally managed to spread to a decent portion of the spire, Vidhatri hadn’t hesitated to start leveraging that to their advantage. The shivarath was very intrigued by the description of Meldorath’s temple and the many flesh-based objects within it, especially those relevant to the spire’s defense.

Vidhatri had thus decided to spend a Skill Point on [Flesh Crafting] and began using the biomass provided by Meldorath’s Heart to turn all of the spire’s furnishings into flesh. She argued that this would allow them to be easily shaped into barricades or defensive structures if needed.

Personally, Zareth had a feeling that Vidhatri just liked the thematic aesthetic of tables and chairs made of biomass. He didn’t particularly mind, but he had to put his foot down when Vidhatri proposed replicating the… unique sphincter-esque doors in Meldorath’s Temple.

That whatever Vidhatri was doing to his office could reasonably be referred to as adorable was… highly unlikely, to say the least.

“I’ve pretty much hit a dead end with this anyway, so you may as well go ahead and update me on the most recent news,” Zareth said as he took one last look at the surrounding runes before nodding in satisfaction and making his way to the center of the room. Once there, he kneeled down to the pulsing organ embedded into the ground and began sculpting a basin around it.

Meldorath’s Heart would play an important role in the ritual’s success and would be primarily responsible for forming the object that Zareth intended to create with the immense amounts of Divine Essence that Cerebon had agreed to expend for his benefit.

Rizok glared at him with clear skepticism for several moments before nodding. “Very well. Then I will continue,” he said, turning back to his papers. “As I said before, General Nasrith’s forces unexpectedly failed in their effort to secure Fal’Ashar several days ago and are currently engaged in heavy combat with Conclave reinforcements from Jalasa and Fal’Farakh. This is the first unambiguous defeat that the general has faced and carries significant consequences, both in regard to the war and Tal’Qamar’s internal politics.”

Even as someone with very little understanding of military strategy, Zareth could immediately see the gravity of the situation. The Conclave would no doubt use this opportunity to sandwich Nasrith’s forces between Fal’Ashar and the two armies bearing down on them.

While the Tal’Qamari side of the war had an advantage in experience and levels, the Conclave had a far larger population and greater economic base. This meant that the longer the war went on, the more the Conclave’s forces would narrow the level gap, and the more Tal’Qamar would struggle to maintain its advantage.

The civilian population of Tal’Qamar was still highly supportive of the war, and morale was high given that High Command had ostensibly dominated the enemy up to this point, but everyone who understood warfare knew that success could easily unravel.

At least, that’s what Rizok claimed to be true.

Consequently, it made sense that even a single defeat would affect the various factions of Tal’Qamar.

“Have there been any developments relevant to my upcoming meeting?” Zareth asked as he used his finger to trace the necessary runes along the inside of the basin.

Although he obviously hadn’t been able to share the true history of the System War, he had informed Rizok and Vidhatri about his intentions to forge closer ties with the rest of the Hierophant’s Council.

Neither of them had hesitated to offer their support or even seemed the slightest bit concerned about the secrecy. That display of trust had been… both reassuring and humbling.

“That’s difficult to say, but Lore Guardian Othrik believes that there’s a chance it will affect your plans to get a seat on the Commission,” Rizok said with a shrug before handing Zareth a small piece of parchment. “Here. This is a report from the Tessik’s spies in House Zarqet, Khrysar, and Seradis. We already know that you have the support of Lady Marilith and General Nasrith, so the Lore Guardian decided against risking their agents in House Vhelan. Archmage Agnazir is still in Jabal-Alma, so there’s no real way to know which way House Kavasa will fall.”

Zareth quickly took the parchment and waited patiently as the lines of gibberish written across it slowly resolved into meaningful text. Earning the trust of Othrik meant that the Lore Guardian’s [Keeper of Knowledge] skill would allow him access to the encoded information without much trouble, but it still took a moment for the skill to decode the complex cipher.

The details eventually emerged, and Zareth furrowed his brow as he absorbed its contents.

The “Commission” that Rizok was referring to was the Oversight Commission of High Command’s Territorial Governance Division—otherwise known as Tal’Qamar’s primary decision-making body for non-military affairs.

After Nasrith overthrew the previous Merchant Lord, the Territorial Governance Division had almost immediately been formed and given far-reaching legal authority over civilian matters. This was extremely unsurprising, as the Great Houses and other major factions were eager to have a formalized means of exerting their influence and control over Tal’Qamar.

Had General Nasrith not formed the Territorial Governance Division and allowed the Great Houses to fill it with their representatives, then Tal’Qamar would have doubtlessly sunk into civil war as the factions vied to reestablish their power. With the Conclave circling Tal’Qamar like sharks that had scented blood in the water, that would have resulted in a disaster.

However, the Great Houses had naturally done everything they could to restrict access to this newly made decision-making body as much as possible. Oligarchs generally didn’t enjoy sharing power any more than necessary, and the Great Houses were obviously no different.

Zareth had initially been very excited and proud when High Command had formed the Hierophant’s Council and given his cult a place on it, assuming that it would grant him some degree of influence. But it eventually became clear that almost all the real power and legal authorities were being directed to the Territorial Governance Division. The Hierophant’s Council was only permitted to make very narrow decisions regarding religious and ceremonial matters in Tal’Qamar, and even then, those edicts could be overturned by the Oversight Commission.

Zareth had always wanted to secure a seat on the Commission but hadn’t made much headway given his cult’s relative lack of influence.

But that was no longer the case.

The Cult of Cerebon was now making gold hand over fist by offering its body sculpting services and was receiving new converts every single day. The size of Zareth’s cult had already outstripped the Circle of Ghisara and the Order of the Serene Path, though it had yet to catch up with the other groups that were more entrenched with their specific racial groups.

The Cult of Cerebon had also secured the support of Lady Marilith and High Command, as granting them a seat on the Commission would benefit General Nasrith. The coalition of factions who opposed any attempt from Nasrith to centralize power currently held the majority on the Commission, but that could change if another faction successfully acquired a seat at the table.

Unfortunately, the Cult of Cerebon was far from rivaling any of the Great Houses in wealth and influence. They weren’t even really all that close to competing with the larger guilds. Nasrith and Lady Marilith could leverage their influence anyways and force a seat onto the Commission for Zareth’s cult, but that would simply grant their opponents an excuse to respond in kind.

Therefore, the only reasonable course of action was to form a political coalition with the other members of the Hierophant’s Council and present themselves as a unified and indispensable force within Tal’Qamar. The Priesthood of Silvaris and the Way of Gendal would both be quite sizable and could perhaps rival the Merchant’s Guild in influence if they combined their influence with Zareth’s cult.

Kinta and her fellow [Monks] were still largely a non-factor but would be natural allies and were gaining in popularity among certain groups who appreciated what they had to offer.

But it was the Circle of Ghisara, with the relationships and resources they had gathered while serving Tal’Qamar’s naga elites, who would tip the scales if they could be peeled from House Khysar’s orbit.

A shame that this was easier said than done.

“So the Great Houses are already starting to grow suspicious about my increased contact with Farida and Borak?” Zareth murmured as he read through the report sent by Lore Guardian Othrik. “Not all that surprising, I suppose. Political schemers of their level tend to have a keen sense of shifting power dynamics. However, we’ll need to be ready once they fully realize what we have planned.”

Zareth had no doubt that the Great Houses would go to significant lengths to prevent Nasrith from centralizing power.

Somehow, I have a feeling that my third assassination attempt is going to happen sooner rather than later, Zareth mused ruefully.

“With Priestess Farida and Grand Shaman Borak both submitting their petitions for recently conquered land, I’ve no doubt that the Great Houses are paying very close attention to developing allegiances,” Rizok acknowledged with a nod. “Depending on the ultimate value of the lands that they are assigned, the influence of the human and ogre minorities could increase significantly.”

Unlike Zareth, who had leveraged every bit of favor he could with House Vhelan and allied himself to General Nasrith to acquire Jabal-Alma, Farid and Borak didn’t have the political weight to actually secure a section of land with minimal fuss.

Instead, each of them had submitted a list of proposals to High Command that would eventually be decided on by the Territorial Governance Division.

This would be one of the primary points of leverage that Zareth intended to exploit during his upcoming meeting and could even serve as the foundation for something much greater if his plans came to fruition.

Speaking of…

“You’ve seen my intended proposals. Do you think Farida and Borak will agree to them?” Zareth asked curiously, suddenly feeling nervous about how everything would unfold.

Rizok was silent for several moments as he considered the question, his brow ridge furrowing before he finally responded. “Difficult to say. Your gifts have likely softened them up and put them in the mood for negotiations, but they’re both old and experienced leaders who place their people as their highest priority. It depends on what exactly you can offer them that is worth the risk of further offending the Great Houses.”

That’s exactly the same conclusion that Zareth had reached himself. It was relieving to hear Rizok’s validation.

“Then I suppose that it’s a good thing I was given this ritual,” said Zareth, letting out a hum of satisfaction as he carefully checked over all of the runes and failed to find any errors. He could feel Cerebon’s attention push down on him like a heavy cloak and felt comforted by it.

The heightened connection provided by [Cerebon’s Greater Boon] meant that the god would have no problem informing him if there were any significant issues.

“It is,” said Rizok, nodding as he collected all of the documents and placed them in his satchel. “How certain are you that this will actually work, and is it safe? I agreed that the… well, I’m not sure what to call it. But I agreed that this plan of yours would be effective if you could really pull it off, but you’re effectively attempting to create something on par with very high-level artifacts. It’d probably be considered a Critical Asset if it had any combat applications and managed to grow like you describe.”

“You’re not wrong. A ritual like this would be far out of my league under normal circumstances,” Zareth admitted without hesitation. “Even with all of the utterly ridiculous precautions included in these runes, the sheer amount of Divine Essence would burn me to a crisp as thoroughly as that Enchanter Lord you mentioned.”

Religious classes like [Cultist], [Priest], and [Atavistic Apostle] could naturally channel Divine Essence far better than normal classes, but Zareth was still only Level 27. Rizok was completely right to be concerned.

“The difference, I’m told, is that Lord Cerebon is willing to invest significantly in this,” Zareth continued.

He didn’t really know the exact details of how it worked, but Cerebon had revealed that deities allocated a portion of the Divine Essence provided by the faith of their worshippers into a sort of internal reservoir. This reservoir is what allowed them to perform miracles and empower their worshippers outside of the bounds of the System.

Cerebon wasn’t exactly the most popular or well-known of deities—which wasn’t all that surprising given his macabre domain and relative youth compared to his peers. This meant that any significant allocation of his power was actually a substantial sacrifice on Cerebon’s part and wasn’t something that Zareth could afford to squander.

The ritual that he was about to perform was apparently worth nearly fifty years of accumulated worship from Cerebon’s perspective, so Zareth would doubtlessly face severe repercussions if he didn’t make it worth it.

Zareth took a deep breath as he swept his gaze across the ritual site for a final time and ensured every detail was in place. The ambient hum of Divine Essence thrummed in the air, almost palpable in its weight, given that his laboratory was directly beneath where the cult normally held its sermons. With a nod of satisfaction and a few words to Rizok informing the lizardkin that he should move to the side, Zareth decided that there was little reason to delay.

A more established cult would have someone with a class like [Occult Ritualist] with more specialized or powerful skills, but Zareth was forced to get the job done with just [Ritual of Offering]. Making his way to the various pedestals of flesh surrounding the center point of the ritual site, Zareth activated the skill and began placing the various thematically appropriate sacrifices he’d prepared for Cerebon atop them.

The seed of a rare Mirage Acacia tree, famous for its ability to thrive in the harshest regions of the Qahtani Desert.

A vial of water brimming with Divine Essence, stolen from a high-ranking member of the Church of Rayya, Goddess of the Oasis.

A strange chunk of biomass that also emanated Divine Essence, harvested from the massive flesh golem slain by a gold-rank Adventurer Group in the depths of Meldorath’s Temple.

And finally an Elysian Phoenixberry, the most valuable and Ether-dense fruit that Zareth could afford to acquire on such short notice. It was said to increase the general health and fertility of anyone who ate it and was generally used by [Beast Tamers] in the breeding of rare and powerful creatures.

According to Cerebon, having these sacrifices would both improve the ultimate outcome of the ritual and lessen the amount of Divine Essence that the god would need to invest for its success. While Zareth wasn’t one to waste gold, he hadn’t spared any expense and done everything he could to ensure each item was of the highest quality. He’d fully leveraged his contacts and his cult’s recent windfall to the best of his abilities without the slightest hesitation.

After all, if this worked, then the Cult of Cerebon stood to potentially benefit far more than a few hundred gold coins could ever buy.

“Oh Great Cerebon, Lord of Flesh and Transformation,

Hear my plea and accept these humble offerings,

In your name, I seek to create a beacon of life,

An oasis of flesh and bounty within the most barren of sands.

Accept this seed of tenacity,

Symbol of resilience and survival,

That our creation may thrive in the harshest of lands.

Accept this vial of blessed waters,

Stolen from the heart of the oasis,

That our creation may be imbued with life-giving essence.

Accept this mass of recently animated muscle,

Taken from the sanctuary of slain and usurped rival,

That our creation may possess the unending potential of flesh.

Accept this offering of fertility and growth,

Harvested from the groves of far-away lands,

That our creation may be fecund and abundant in its bounty,

With these offerings, I beseech you, Lord Cerebon,

To bless this ritual and grant us the seed of this cult’s future.

Let it grow mighty and vast,

Providing substance and sanctuary to both your chosen and our allies,

A testament to your power and our devotion.

By your will, let it be done.”

As he spoke the invocation given to him by his god, Zareth could feel a surge of Divine Essence building in the room with every uttered word. His voice took on a strange, echoey quality as every single rune etched into the floors and walls began to glow with an otherworldly light, pulsating in harmony with the beating of Meldorath’s Heart.

Moments later, blood began to spontaneously seep out of the grooves of the runes and flowed down a series of interconnected channels into the basin surrounding the beating organ. The sacrifices slowly sank into the pedestals they had been placed upon before disappearing completely, signifying that they had been accepted by Cerebon.

Not that this was ever in doubt, given the weighty feeling of anticipation that hung over the entire laboratory as the ritual slowly reached its apex. It felt as though the god stood beside Zareth, guiding his every movement as he walked to the center of the room and knelt before the blood-filled basin, a foreign power steering his actions.

A distant part of Zareth’s mind noted that the crimson liquid was unnaturally hot as he plunged his arms into the basin and placed his hands on the surface of Meldorath’s Heart. He could feel a dense surge of Divine Essence flow through him—its intensity painful to a degree that Zareth knew that he would’ve never been able to remain silent if he was in full control of himself.

As it was, the excruciating burning was a mere afterthought as he thrust his hands through the outer flesh of Meldorath’s Heart and into its largest chamber.

Blood—heavily infused with Divine Essence—immediately poured into the organ as the external influence directing Zareth guided him to shape and control the liquid in a way that he didn’t fully understand. Words escaped his lips unbidden—rough and coarse in a language that was both unfamiliar to him and seemed unfit for human vocal cords, yet he understood every syllable.

“Let this seed be born of blood and essence. May it grow into an everlasting firmament that will challenge this established order. May it protect my chosen from their enemies, both ancient and new. Divine and mortal alike.”

The blood began to swirl, drawn in at incredible speed into Meldorath’s Heart. The pulsations of the organ grew faster and louder, echoing off the walls until it was as if the entire room was filled with the sound of beating drums. Zareth’s entire body trembled as Divine Essence coursed through him, flowing into his hands where the blood compressed and transformed under his touch.

Zareth had no idea how long this continued until the ritual reached its apex and the blood finally began to coalesce into its final orb. Slowly, the runes carved into his laboratory lost their otherworldly glow, and the basin drained of blood, leaving the crimson liquid that drenched his arms the only remnant of the ritual’s end. Meldorath’s Heart gradually ceased its rapid pulsations and returned to the steady, rhythmic beat that he was accustomed to hearing.

Atavistic Apostle has reached Level 28! Skill Point gained!

Given how much Divine Essence had just been channeled through his soul and the large amount of information he’d gained from Cerebon’s recent history lesson, it was little surprise that he’d leveled. The speed of it was somewhat absurd given how recently he’d reached Level 27; however, this was one of the benefits of being favored by his god and choosing a class that centered around both serving said god and acquiring knowledge.

Deciding to address the matter of his Skill Point later, Zareth carefully pulled his hands from the organ, his hands now cradling the culmination of his efforts and Cerebon’s power.

The spherical object was larger than he expected, roughly the size of a human head. Its surface was a deep crimson, covered in intersecting veins that seemed to writhe and shift under the light. The texture was a curious mix of smooth and rough, with patches of what looked like sinew and muscle fiber interwoven with a glossy, almost translucent sheen. It allowed him to see the tiny, spiked tendrils quivering barely beneath the surface, waiting to break free and expand into the world beyond.

But more than anything else, it was the immense amount of Divine Essence radiating from the sphere which fully captured Zareth’s attention. He couldn’t help but feel that even those who lacked [Devotion Perception] would be able to sense the enormous potential contained within the divine creation, a fact supported by the way Rizok was staring at it with slight trepidation.

“Is it done, then?” Rizok asked as he approached to get a better look. “I’ve grown pretty used to seeing things that are bizarre and fairly gruesome ever since I met you, but that was something else entirely. Felt like my scales were about to crawl off my body.”

Zareth chuckled softly, the tension slowly leaving his body. “Yes, it’s done. I can sense that the Seed is ready to be placed and activated whenever we’re ready.”

“Hmph. I see,” said Rizok. “Are you sure it was a good idea to go through with the ritual before you actually convinced the Desharin and the ogres to agree to your plan?”

“Showing it to them will make the negotiations much easier,” Zareth said as he studied the Seed for a moment before subsuming it into his body. It was slightly uncomfortable given the size, but a few shifts of his internal organs made enough space. “And not a moment too soon, given that I can see them approaching the spire through the flesh golem perched outside.”

Zareth had intentionally timed the [Ritual of Offering] for a few minutes before the scheduled meeting in the hopes that the surge of Divine Essence would impress his peers. Given the rigid solemnity he could see from Farida and the composed curiosity from Borak, he had a feeling he’d succeeded.

Kinta was hard to read through her serenity, but that was to be expected from a [Monk] who served a deity referred to as the “Serene Path.”

“We should make our way upstairs. It’s probably a good idea to be there once they step into the spire,” said Zareth, already walking toward the exit.

He was glad that he’d given the [Cultists] a day off from the cult’s healing and flesh sculpting services, or there would have been a massive crowd in the main hall. Given the quasi-divine aura radiating from the Seed now embedded in his chest, Zareth had no doubt that there would’ve been more [Spies] than usual loitering around the Spire Garden if rumors were allowed to spread.

As it stood, there were only a few of the spire’s permanent residents socializing and relaxing among the rows of fleshy pews in the vast hall. A few children were harassing Glurp the flesh blob as Rizok claimed, but most of the cult’s members seemed content to converse quietly among themselves or join Vidhatri in a lesson on meditation on the far side of the hall.

Zareth was glad to see that the shivarath had taken a break from her flesh-crafting projects to connect with the rest of the cult and wasn’t about to chase him to argue for more spire modifications.

“I’ll go join Vidhatri,” Rizok announced as he caught sight of his lover, eyes growing impossibly soft at the mere sight of her. “I doubt that there’s anything I can contribute to your negotiations regardless.”

Zareth let out an amused snort and offered Rizok a teasing look. “Fine. Just remember to send Tamir or one of the [Cultists] with the special dishes to my office in a few minutes. I know how enthusiastic you are about meditation, so try not to forget.”

His tone made it abundantly clear that it wasn’t the meditation he believed would captivate the soldier. Rizok responded with a roll of his eyes and a rude gesture before turning away to join Vidhatri.

Zareth watched as Farida, Kinta, and Borak ascended the steps to his spire and made their way to the entrance to the main hall. He immediately fixed a smile on his face and moved to address them. “Greetings, my friends. Thank you all for comi⁠—”

“By the gods, boy. What have you done to this place?” Farida interrupted with a grimace as she looked beyond him to the interior of the spire. “It feels as if I’m stepping into the gullet of an enormous Qahtani Glintworm. And why do you look as if you just finished bathing in blood? Did you decide to take [Cannibal] as a second class?”

“No need to be rude, Priestess Farida,” Borak said with a deep voice as he offered Zareth a polite nod and swept his gaze across the hall. “The Cult of Cerebon has been nothing but a boon for Tal’Qamar. Their… unique aesthetic choices are nothing that we should scorn.”

“Thank you for the invitation, Apostle Zareth,” said Kinta, the only one of the three who looked completely unbothered as she glanced curiously at Vidhatri and the other members of the cult. “I wasn’t aware that your cult performed meditative practices. I would be quite interested in joining one of these sessions at some point.”

Zareth blinked in confusion before looking down at his arms—which he had completely forgotten to clean of blood—and glancing back into the spire—which looked like something out of a particularly gross horror movie.

It took him a moment to realize that both he and the members of his cult had grown so desensitized to gore after seeing such things every single day that they’d forgotten what it might look like to outsiders. Even the warm, crimson liquid currently drenching his robes and filling his surroundings with the scent of iron hadn’t really registered to him or been mentioned by anyone else until now.

That was… slightly concerning.

“I’m sure Fleshwarper Vidhatri would be more than happy to arrange a meditative session with you, Monk Kinta,” Zareth lied as he did his best to hide his embarrassment while absorbing the blood into his body. In truth, Vidhatri would doubtlessly disdain interacting with an ‘infidel’ any longer than possible. “And thank you for your kind words, Grand Shaman. The Cult of Cerebon has done its best to make this place its own, regardless of the opinions of those eager to make unnecessary judgments.”

It was clear to everyone to whom that last comment was directed. But rather than get offended, Farida merely snorted in amusement and smirked at him with something approaching approval. “Good to see that your tongue is still sharp and you’ve still got your backbone, lad. Wasn’t sure given how much you’ve been bending over for the snakes recently.”

“My ‘sharp tongue’ is something I don’t imagine losing so long as I have to speak with you, old lady,” Zareth said dryly, his welcoming smile straining as he decided to skip the unnecessary pleasantries. “Now, if we could move to my office, we can discuss the matter at hand.”

Their relationship had somewhat improved and there was a mutual respect that neither of them commented on… but he still found Farida to be an unpleasant curmudgeon. Thankfully, that didn’t stop her from nodding and following quietly as he made his way up the stairs, Borak and Kinta stepping into place behind her.

The trek to his office was uneventful, aside from the occasional glance at the flying cat or the one instance of a tendril—presumably one of Vidhatri’s flesh golems—emerging from the walls to light a torch as they ascended the steps. Once he arrived at his office, Zareth opened the thankfully completely normal and not sphincter-shaped door and ushered his guests inside. The biomass overtaking the spire hadn’t yet reached his office, so its furnishings were still relatively normal.

Aside from the chair behind Zareth’s desk… which had been replaced by a bone and flesh substitute uncomfortably reminiscent of a throne without his knowledge.

Dammit, Vidhatri…

Pretending that nothing was out of place, Zareth made his way over to the seat and sat down, gesturing for his guests to take their places on the more normal chairs placed around the desk. Farida settled into her seat, eye twitching with mild distaste at Zareth’s chair, while Borak and Kinta sat down while wearing expressions of polite curiosity.

“Thank you all for accepting my invitation,” said Zareth, doing his best to project confidence. “I’m sure you’re all eager to know why I called you here, though I imagine you have your suspicions given how I’ve been behaving since returning to Tal’Qamar.”

“Hmph. You’re not wrong. It’s clear you want something from us,” Farida snorted, leaning back in her chair and fixing him with an inscrutable gaze. “Sending us gifts and nice words while arranging this meeting. Can’t say I disapprove of your decision to leave behind the snake and his circle of sneaky little seers.”

“Are you sure this is wise? The Circle of Ghisara is meant to be a member of the Hierophant’s Council, no?” Kinta asked before Zareth could respond, her tone calm and lacking any accusation despite the nature of her question. “Why have you chosen to exclude them, Apostle Zareth?”

“I believe you’ll understand once I explain my intentions,” Zareth said before looking toward the door leading into his office, sensing that Tamir had arrived as instructed. “But first, I’ve prepared something that I believe you all might find interesting.”

After shouting for Tamir, the door opened to reveal the young [Cultist] uneasily carrying two covered dishes. With a quick nod of acknowledgment, Tamir carefully placed each of them down on the desk in front of Zareth before retreating out of the office.

Encouraged by the curious expressions of his peers, Zareth didn’t hesitate to remove the covers over two dishes, revealing the very unique foods contained within.

“What in Silvaris’s name are these?” Farida asked as she picked up a peach-sized object with a smooth and slightly furry exterior.

Retrieving the knife hidden in one of his table’s drawers, Zareth cut open the object to reveal an interior that was marbled with veins of a succulent, meat-like substance.

He then did the same to the second dish, which was a larger melon-sized fruit with a rough exterior dotted with small, raised nodes, almost resembling the armored hide of some kind of ancient beast. However, splitting it open revealed a core filled with a light pink, gelatinous substance that released a pleasant and sweet aroma that immediately drew the attention of everyone present.

“These are a variety of foods created by the special abilities of the Cult of Cerebon,” Zareth explained, his voice steady as he gestured to the trays. “This one is a Fleshfruit. Through a combination of natural sciences and Ether, it was specifically created to both taste as good as any well-cooked meat and provide enough nutritional benefit to sustain a person for an entire day.”

The second is a Sanguine Melon, and the fluid inside is similarly infused with Ether and created to provide for the hydration necessary to sustain a person through the harshest conditions. While I haven’t had the opportunity to test its full potential, I estimate that a single one of these should be able to sustain a person for nearly a week. Even while traveling through the desert.”

The expressions of Zareth’s guests had been growing increasingly incredulous with each word he spoke. But it was the final comment which immediately captured Farida’s attention and caused her gaze to snap to him with an intensity that almost made him flinch.

“Several days? Truly? What you say is impossible,” Farida asked, her eyes filled with calculation as she looked back down to the Sanguine Melon and continued before he could respond. “No. A week seems reasonable so long as you possess enough Vitality. Especially given their magical nature. Your god’s domain would plausibly allow such a feat. Hydration could be sustained even longer with sufficient water-retention skills. The possibilities if these could be produced in significant amounts are…”

Farida grew uncharacteristically silent, her gaze distant as her mind doubtlessly ran through the myriad of implications. Borak was quick to pick up the conversation, his eyes narrowing with contemplation.

“The benefits of the Sanguine Mellon to the nomadic Desharin are quite obvious. Especially given their… recent circumstances,” Borak said mildly, referring to the Desharin’s lost ability to create oases as he picked up one of the Fleshfruits and took a bite of it, humming in appreciation at the taste. “However, the usefulness of these for my own people would depend on your cult’s ability to produce them in significant numbers. An alternative food source would be quite welcome, given High Command’s forced rationing and the increasing costs of food.”

“I know admittedly very little about magic,” Kinta began, her expression thoughtful. “Such knowledge isn’t needed for those who follow the Serene One. But these… ‘fruits’ seem to contain more Ether than what could reasonably be produced at scale. Am I wrong?”

Zareth was somewhat impressed by Kinta’s perceptiveness. She wouldn’t be wrong in her observations about production bottlenecks under normal circumstances. These two dishes had been prepared using Ether-infused biomass produced by Meldorath’s Heart, which was both slow and expensive in general.

Kinta’s comment was enough to break Farida out of her reverie, causing the old woman to look at him like she was about to accuse him of wasting her time. Before she could ruin the mood, Zareth was quick to respond.

“I do have a solution for that little problem. But first, I would like affirmations that you three are willing to forge closer ties,” Zareth said, voice steady as he met each of the gazes. “My god has assured me that he’s communicated with each of your respective deities, and I’m certain they’ve spoken to you all in turn. However, the degree and nature of our mutual cooperation is for us to decide, and I feel like we should do so now. Especially if we are to extend our influence to the Territorial Governance Division.”

“You’re correct that Silvaris has reached out to me in favor of mutual cooperation, but your ambitions overshadow your ability, brat,” Farida said with a scowl. “The damned snakes will never allow us to gain a foothold in the actual seats of power without a fight. Our people would have already succeeded in doing so otherwise.”

“That may have once been the case, but circumstances have changed. I sincerely doubt that your people have ever had the explicit support of Tal’Qamar’s Ruler,” Zareth said calmly. “General Nasrith and Lady Marilith have expressed their willingness to endorse the Hierophant’s Council’s right to representation so long as we in turn support his efforts to centralize certain legal authorities with High Command. This isn’t an opportunity that will come again easily.”

He then went on to explain the current political situation that Rizok had briefed him on before, emphasizing that they could only pool together enough resources and influence if they worked together. By the time he was done explaining, the expressions of his guests ranged from cautious optimism to deep contemplation.

“I see the potential gain in this, Apostle Zareth. My people would certainly benefit greatly if we could secure the Commission and change certain laws designed to hinder our progress,” said Borak, leaning forward with an air of seriousness. “But I believe you may be underestimating the severity of the opposition that we would receive from the Great Houses who are not aligned with our interests.”

“Hmph. It’d cause a civil war if the snakes weren’t clever enough to know how quickly the Conclave would exploit any signs of internal conflict,” Farida grumbled, though she still seemed quite interested in the proposal. “Any power that the Great Houses hand over to High Command is power they won’t be getting back. They’ll fight tooth and nail to stop that from happening. Assassination attempts, trade caravans having ‘accidents’ while traveling perfectly safe routes, our craftsmen being blacklisted from major contracts. House Seradis alone purchases 80 percent of the Sunstones that my people produce. They would starve us of gold the very moment we became a threat.”

Zareth knew that Farida’s concern was perfectly reasonable. It was difficult to overstate just how much the Great Houses dominated the Tal’Qamari economy and how far their tendrils had spread to every corner of society. Even with all the preparations that he had made, any plan to challenge the Great Houses would be doomed to fail without support.

“I’m sure House Vhelan would be willing to take over a portion of that trade if House Seradis decided to take punitive measures,” Zareth said, steepling his fingers. “And I’ve no doubt that a group as independent-minded as the Desharin have done their best to develop ways to mitigate those sorts of pressures.”

“You’re not wrong, lad. But that’s not the point,” Farida said, shaking her head. “Even if we succeeded, the Great Houses would grind us down into dust eventually. They practically own this city and everything in it. Why would I risk my people being brought to ruin for a fourth of a vote on a Commission that would have eight different factions vying for control? Just so that I can help a snake consolidate his power?”

Borak and Kinta remained quiet, but Zareth could tell that they both shared Farida’s concerns. Borak’s situation was almost exactly the same—with the ogres just as vulnerable to economic retaliation—while Kinta’s monastery was much too small to survive any effort to undermine them.

Zareth had reached a similar conclusion while discussing how he should proceed with Cerebon. Even if the god hadn’t participated in mortal politics in millennia, he had provided invaluable insights that made it clear to Zareth that the Great Houses were just too deeply entrenched for his ambitions to prosper.

The Great Houses would undoubtedly look at any burgeoning pantheon with extreme suspicion given how long it’d taken them to overthrow the Conclave and react accordingly. The support of General Nasrith and Lady Marilith meant that their pantheon would have a degree of protection, but the Great Houses would only escalate the more their power was threatened.

Perhaps even to the point of triggering a civil war once the current conflict with the Conclave came to a close. That wasn’t something that anyone would benefit from, so there was really only one option.

“In that case, why don’t we escape the Great Houses’ seat of power and establish our own center of influence?” Zareth suggested, anticipation rising as he finally reached the crux of his proposal. “Together, utilizing the land we are to be given in return for our participation in this war, we establish a new city from the ground up. One that is free of the Great Houses’ influence and open to members of each of our respective groups. This would allow us to make decisions without fear of their interference.”

The room fell into a shocked silence as the weight of Zareth’s proposal settled over them. It was an extraordinarily ambitious plan with immense benefits, but also equally immense risks.

“As I said before, my people would have already done so if it were that simple. We would have loved to leave this snake-infested city behind,” said Farida, scowling angrily as she looked at him with growing scorn. “Do you have any idea just how difficult it would be to establish a city any larger than that destitute little hovel that High Command handed over to you? Materials, proper [Masons], as well as general labor, would all cost a fortune. Those could perhaps be accounted for if both I and the Grand Shaman convinced our people to invest in this endeavor. But the largest issue would be finding any sizable oasis that hasn’t already been claimed and actually feeding all of…”

Farida trailed off from her rant as she looked down at the Fleshfruit and Sanguine Melon still sitting on the desk, her eyes widening with realization.

Seeing that the right moment had come, Zareth reached to his chest and retrieved the seed before placing it on the table. The immense amounts of Divine Essence radiating from it immediately captured everyone’s attention and let them know that they were dealing with something extraordinary.

“As I said before, I do have the means to produce these on a large scale. Enough, at least, to give us a few interesting options,” Zareth said as he casually closed the wound he had just opened. “My god graciously granted me the ability to create this vessel of his divine power. Once placed on a sufficient source of Ether, it will eventually grow into a massive, sprawling organism capable of creating free biomass to use as building materials and sources of sustenance like the ones you’ve been shown.”

According to Cerebon, the Seed was based heavily on Meldorath’s Heart and effectively served as a larger and generally superior version of the magical organ. One that would be able to support an entire city rather than a single compound like his spire or Meldorath’s temple.

It would lose the ability of Meldorath’s Heart to create more targeted and specialized varieties of Ether-infused biomass, but the sheer production output would more than make up for that loss. This Seed in particular was designed to grow into something approximating a truly massive tree of flesh and bone, producing Ether-infused biomass that was unnaturally nutritious.

This meant that a decently powerful leyline could be turned into a reliable source of food and water, allowing a city to be built in places that were previously deemed uninhabitable.

Cerebon only had enough Divine Essence to spare for a single Seed of this caliber for now. However, Zareth had gotten the distinct impression that the ambitious god envisioned cities of flesh springing up across the lands, spreading his influence as countless mortals grew reliant on his gifts.

It was a cunning plan. One which Zareth had every incentive to see to its fruition.

“Needless to say, this could offer all of us many opportunities,” Zareth continued once it became clear that his peers were too caught off-guard to respond. “My first instinct was to place it in Jabal-Alma, which possesses a suitably powerful leyline benea⁠—”

“Absolutely not,” Farida immediately interrupted, breaking her gaze from the Seed. “A settlement completely under your authority would be completely unacceptable. The Desharin shall not trade one master to get in bed with another.”

“And my people will not suffer to live amongst Borvulk,” Borak added, shaking his head. “And the requirement that it be placed in a location dense with Ether is difficult, given my people’s biology.”

“Those problems had indeed occurred to me,” Zareth said dryly, slightly annoyed by the interruption. “The Seed will feed on any Ether in its vicinity, rendering the location magically neutral and safe for Gruvulk habitation. But I do need your assistance otherwise. The Desharin and the ogres undoubtedly know the Qahtani Desert far better than I ever could and would both have an interest in recording Ether-dense locations. At least, that is if you’ve decided to agree to the plan that I’ve offered?”

While he really did need help, Zareth had no doubt that he could’ve found a suitable spot for the Seed without it. He was far more interested in getting Farida and Borak invested in the plan from the very beginning, ensuring that they felt a sense of ownership and commitment to the project.

All of them would be absolutely indispensable if he were to actually go through with the creation of a city. Even Kinta could be very useful depending on what lands her monastery had been granted by High Command and the people contained within them.

The room was quiet as Farida, Borak, and Kinta all exchanged glances and sincerely considered the proposal. Unsurprisingly, it was Farida who was the first to break the silence, though her voice lacked any of the scorn or subtle disrespect that it had contained before.

“A chance to be liberated from the Great Houses… It’s a dream that the Desharin have had for many generations,” Farida said slowly as she let out a soft sigh. “More than that, you offer the possibility that my people may once again roam the sands freely and at length with these… fruits of yours. It is not a true replacement for our stolen ability to create oases at our leisure, but it is a step forward to self-sufficiency and freedom. I… find it hard to imagine that our Elders will dismiss this opportunity.”

Zareth could feel his hope swell at the surprisingly quick agreement from the most difficult member of the group. He looked at Borak and Kinta, eager to see their reactions.

“I concur. We Gruvulk have always prided ourselves on our independence and resilience, and the Great Houses have taken that from us,” Borak said with a decisive nod. “Much will depend on the details, which will require further negotiations, but I am willing to present this to my people. But be warned, the Great Houses will not accept this easily.”

He had no doubt that Borak was right, but he had already run this idea by General Nasrith and received approval. Any potential, newly created city would still be under his authority and pay taxes to the greater Tal’Qamari government, so Nasrith had no reason to oppose the scheme.

“While I don’t understand her reasoning, the Serene One has bid me to support your endeavors to the best of my ability, whatever that may be worth,” Kinta said simply, her voice steady and calm.

Zareth felt a wave of relief wash over himas he received the final agreement. This was only the first step of the plan that he and Cerebon had settled on and the one that he had been most confident in successfully implementing, but it was still a crucial one.

Feeling excited, he immediately called someone to retrieve a map of Valandor and began discussing the logistics of their ambitious plan. This was far too significant for just the four of them to handle on their own, so it would be best to formulate a proposal that would gain as much support as possible.

They would need it, as the Great Houses would know what they were planning almost immediately and respond with the full force of their considerable influence. But as minutes stretched on into hours and their group gradually began to lose their initial reservations, he found himself far less worried than he expected.

And that was because he could see the beginning of an alliance that had the ability to reshape the very fabric of Tal’Qamar.

Chapter 18

Rizok leaned back against the alleyway sandstone walls and took a moment to appreciate the gorgeous sight of Tal’Qamar’s star-filled night sky.

The city was still quite active despite it being midnight—a natural consequence of Tal’Qamar having a sizable population of ogres given how rarely they slept—but it was still quieter than the bustling daytime hours.

It was… peaceful. Like much of his life had been recently, between fighting off the occasional assassination attempt, flesh golems, and ogre cultists much less friendly than the [Cultists] he was used to. Even taking those occasions into account, life had been much kinder to him recently than it had been for the majority of his life.

No more marching constantly from battle to battle, leaving behind corpses wherever he went.

No more serving under naga officers who never missed a chance to remind him how grateful he should be for the rank he’d rightfully earned.

No more utter loneliness, unwilling to allow himself the luxury of completely trusting his fellow soldiers lest his true thoughts get back to the Great Houses.

Instead, he now enjoyed the chance to consistently sleep in a comfortable bed, aid the Tessik more than just by acting as a spy, and fight alongside people who he genuinely trusted.

He even had a lover! For the first time in… quite a while. He’d always found it difficult to relate to civilians, and finding a lover in the military came with the same problems as finding friends, so Vidhatri felt like a blessing he hadn’t expected to receive.

She really was quite beautiful while tearing their enemies limb from limb. And more than a little captivating when she used her six arms to pick him up and…

Rizok shook his head to dispel such thoughts before he could grow too distracted. He did actually have a reason for standing in an empty alleyway in the middle of the night, and it wouldn’t do for him to lose focus. Zareth and his new allies had swiftly put together a scheme to deal with their enemies—understanding they had little time to dawdle—and Rizok was here to help see it through.

Stretching his [Aura of Perception] to its limits, Rizok quickly scanned his surroundings and confirmed that there was nothing amiss. To be more precise, the target who he was currently waiting for had yet to arrive and enter the busy building across the street—which was ostensibly a tavern but was in truth a Silk Serpent illegal potions den.

Rizok had to admit, the Silk Serpents were actually rather clever for a gang when they chose this spot to set up their illicit business. The “tavern” was far enough away from the reputable parts of Tal’Qamar that it was extremely unlikely any foreigners or curious Adventurers would stumble on it by accident, but close enough to the Velvet District that wealthy patrons could enter without drawing suspicion.

There were only a few [Guards] who patrolled the area, all of whom were paid off not to pay too close attention to the abnormal amount of traffic going in and out of the tavern at odd hours, and the locals knew better than to interfere with Silk Serpents business.

And to top it all off, Rizok could faintly sense some manner of foreign influence nudging his attention away from the tavern.

Probably a skill rather than any kind of illusion. High Command’s [War Mages] would have noticed it at some point otherwise, Rizok mused as he swept his awareness across the nearby rooftops, ignoring the few Silk Serpents look-outs that he’d already spotted earlier in the night. I wonder what class the Silk Serpent’s leader has to be capable of something like this. [Crime Lord]? [Corrupt Aristocrat]?

Rizok forced those thoughts away and focused back on the matter at hand. He knew very little about criminal classes, so it was useless to speculate.

The target was late, but Rizok didn’t allow himself to worry. Plans changed all the time, and the Tessik had gone to extraordinary lengths to ensure that the [Assassins] hired to attack them along the path to Jabal-Alma would be here tonight.

All he needed to do was be patient, and his prey would eventually arrive.

Unfortunately, his patience wasn’t exactly shared with everyone involved with tonight’s operation…

“Hey, Rizok. Why don’t you open your Eye of Cerebon? I gave it to you for a reason,” Zareth complained telepathically, using the same magical ring that he’d given to Vidhatri in Jabal-Alma. “It’s bad enough that you refused to allow me to participate, but now I can’t even see what’s going on when the target is late! Has something gone wrong?”

Zareth wasn’t usually one to show his nerves, but this operation was far too important for their plans and the near-term future of his cult. The Territorial Governance Division’s next meeting was scheduled to take place two weeks from now, and General Nasrith was expecting everything to be ready before then.

The Hierophant’s Council needed to have amassed sufficient influence by then to secure a seat on the Oversight Commission, enabling them to vote in favor of Nasrith’s proposed changes to Tal’Qamar’s laws. Zareth had succeeded in getting his peers to agree to an alliance, but there was a rather paradoxical problem that had yet to be solved.

The group that Zareth had put together was wealthy and powerful enough that nobody could reasonably object to giving them a seat on the Oversight Commission, but the Great Houses had no problem being unreasonable. Unfortunately, the Commission needed to approve the new seat with a majority vote, leading to a circular problem. Zareth and his faction obviously didn’t have the necessary votes given that the general needed them to secure the vote for his reforms in the first place.

Zareth had been working to solve this problem ever since he had returned to Tal’Qamar. But it was only after he convinced his peers to work with him and brought the issue to their attention that he managed to come up with a plan.

One that was rather audacious.

There were many naga whose expressions Rizok couldn’t wait to see once everything came together, but he would first have to succeed here if that was going to happen.

“Everything is fine, Zareth. It’s likely that the [Assassins] are simply discreetly scouting the area before they make their move,” Rizok said reassuringly, doing his best to project confidence. Anxious allies rarely made for effective support, and he’d long learned how to maintain his composure in difficult circumstances. “They’re not fools. The Tessik did their best to make it seem as if we just wished to contract their services, but the enemy will have no doubt correctly considered that this may be a trap.”

That was impossible to avoid given that the [Assassins] had recently accepted a mission in Tal’Qamar, most likely from House Khysar. No Assassins Guild that managed to survive in the Viscounty of Jelt was so incompetent that they wouldn’t suspect a possible set-up in these circumstances.

“Yes, I’m aware of that,” Zareth said, sounding somewhat annoyed. “I’m the one who ensured that you wouldn’t be recognized, after all. It’s just… it’s difficult not to worry when we don’t fully understand our enemy’s capabilities. How will we know whether or not Kassan’s precognition allowed him to see the threat to his interests? You could be facing a counter-ambush at any moment.”

Rizok couldn’t deny that such a risk existed. There were many skills that allowed for some manner of precognition, but the vast majority of those were narrow in focus and very short-term in nature, such as [Advanced Battle Intuition]. Kassan’s ability to see the future, on the other hand, was divine in nature and much more difficult to maneuver around than anything Rizok had ever dealt with.

“Since you’re the one who went through the effort of changing my appearance, maybe you shouldn’t recommend I ruin my cover by suddenly opening a third eye for any hidden [Assassin] to see,” Rizok said snarkily. He could’ve just replaced one of his natural eyes, but he was nowhere near as easygoing about removing body parts as Zareth or Vidhatri. “And we’ve done everything that we can to prepare for Kassan. Your god went to great lengths to explain the probable limits of his precognition. So long as we execute our plan correctly, it is unlikely that he will see anything until after it’s too late.”

Rizok’s response was reassuring enough that Zareth only continued his fretting for a few more minutes before ending their conversation to speak with Vidhatri instead. She was a bit further away from the illegal potions den to avoid being spotted by any [Assassins] searching for hidden threats, but close enough that she could provide support in the event something went wrong.

If he was honest with himself, it was Vidhatri’s portion of the operation that caused Rizok the most anxiety. Not because his lover was going to be putting herself at risk attempting to neutralize those [Assassins] who would be waiting outside of the illegal potions den.

No, he trusted Vidhatri to take care of herself.

Rather, Rizok was worried about their barely acquainted allies who would be supporting Vidhatri. Considering the enemy’s relatively high level and heightened alertness, Zareth had to recruit capable people from less reliable allies to assist in dealing with them.

General Nasrith needed plausible deniability from what was about to happen, so the military wasn’t an option. The Great Houses would be sending their best [Investigators] to scrutinize today’s events once it came to their attention, so the Tessik would be at too much risk of discovery if they sent any of the few capable fighters at their disposal. That meant that it was the Desharin and the Gruvulk who would be sending their champions to assist in neutralizing the [Assassins], both groups that Rizok knew far less about than he wished.

He would have had a good idea about the strengths and weaknesses of anyone sent by General Nasrith or Lore Guardian Othrik, so Rizok would have much preferred working with familiar faces.

Still, Rizok had enough pride in his own abilities that he wouldn’t allow his⁠—

Rizok’s thoughts were abruptly interrupted as he suddenly sensed a dangerous presence entering the perimeter of his [Aura of Greater Perception]. It was extremely difficult to actually pinpoint their exact location, and something made it hard to focus on them at all, but Rizok had experienced enough life-and-death moments that he’d developed a sort of sixth sense for danger that had nothing to do with his skills.

Whoever he was sensing was powerful enough that they could actually kill him if he wasn’t careful. Which was a very bad sign, given that none of the previous [Assassins] from Jelt had given him this kind of feeling.

Rizok took a deep breath to calm himself down and waited until he could sense the presence nearing the tavern. Rizok carefully made his way to the end of the valley and peeked around the corner while completely emptying himself of any threatening thoughts so as not to activate his target’s [Danger Sense].

Sensing such a small amount of hostility from such a far distance would be impossible for most people, but Rizok’s instincts told him that he wasn’t dealing with an average [Assassin].

Once there, he got his first look at the individual who had sent prickles racing across his scales. He’d been hoping that the person who triggered his skill was someone unrelated to the [Assassins] he was supposed to be meeting, but the dark green shawl that served as the agreed-upon identifier dashed those hopes…

“Zareth. We have a problem,” Rizok reported grimly as he covertly raised his hand and allowed the Eye of Cerebon embedded in his palm to open.

It was extremely strange suddenly acquiring an entirely new visual perspective, especially one that could see far more than he was used to, but Rizok was now immensely glad that he had the Eye of Cerebon. The target had at first looked like any other of the filthy-scaled lizardkin residing in the less reputable parts of Tal’Qamar, so completely unremarkable that Rizok wouldn’t have given them more than a passing glance if not for the current circumstances.

But with the Eye of Cerebon, Rizok could plainly see their figure blur into that of a middle-aged human man with surprisingly dark skin and features that were decidedly not Eldamiri. That caught Rizok a bit off-guard given that he was expecting one of the pale-skinned humans from the east, but his focus was quickly caught by the large number of heavily enchanted artifacts covering his body.

“Yeah… that’s not who we were expecting you to be negotiating with. The Assassins Guild should have sent that ogre earthbende—I mean [Geomancer],” Zareth responded after a moment of silence, his tone tinged with worry. “One moment, let me check the information gathered by the Tessik. A high-level [Assassin] like that has almost certainly managed to pick up a reputation.”

Rizok nodded in agreement, forgetting for a moment that Zareth couldn’t see him. It hadn’t been particularly difficult for the Tessik to narrow down the exact Assassins Guild that House Khysar had chosen to attack Zareth, a Guild that called themselves the Echoes of Jelt after the Viscounty’s legendary founder.

Matriarch Sylthana was a creature of habit and had contracted the same cutthroats often to arrange the murders of her enemies.

This came with many benefits, such as reliability of service and a good degree of loyalty based on long-term mutual interests, but it also made it easier for well-placed [Spies] to investigate and gather intel on her activities. The Tessik had little in the way of actual resources or combat capabilities, but they more than excelled when it came to gathering information.

Sure enough, Zareth’s voice soon returned with the information that Rizok needed. “Found him. His appearance matches reports made by Eldamari [Investigators] for a man by the name of Kasim Dhari. The Tessik speculate from his name and features that he was kidnapped to the Viscounty of Jelt as a child so that his Guild could cultivate an operative more able to blend into the Qahtani city-states. His class is suspected to be a [Poison-Master Assassin] with a level in the high 40s, and he’s known to be exceptionally sadistic, always choosing poisons that cause prolonged suffering in his victims. He’s… not someone to be taken lightly, Rizok.”

Rizok could hear the worry in his friend’s voice and the implicit offer to call off the mission despite the significant problems it would cause Zareth if he chose to do so.

It was heartwarming. High Command would never accept anything less than success regardless of the risks.

With the experience of a soldier who had faced innumerable dangers and many unexpected changes in mission parameters, Rizok quickly began analyzing the current situation.

In truth, very little had changed aside from the direct danger to Rizok himself. It was likely that the Echoes of Jelt were feeling cautious about being approached by a client from Tal’Qamar different from their usual contacts and had decided to send Kasim as a result.

That wasn’t ideal, and a [Poison-Master Assassin] with such a high level was definitely an extremely deadly opponent… but Rizok was confident that he could win a fight. He himself was a Level 48 [Aura Blade] who almost certainly had vastly more experience in a straight one-on-one combat situation compared to a coward who relied on poisons.

It certainly wouldn’t be easy. Especially considering that they needed to capture Kasim alive and escape without leaving any evidence for the Great Houses to trace back to them.

“We will move forward with the operation,” Rizok said decisively as he began making his way toward the tavern. “Tell the [Monks] to begin their ritual. Vidhatri and the rest of our allies should move to neutralize any other [Assassins] in the area as soon as the ritual takes effect.”

“Understood… Be safe, friend,” Zareth said before his presence receded from Rizok’s mind so that he could coordinate the rest of the team.

Rizok resisted the urge to activate all of his combat auras the moment he approached the building. They’d chosen this location specifically as the enemy’s [Danger Sense] would register a constant low threat level from their surroundings. Rizok needed to make himself as non-threatening as he could for as long as possible so that all of the other enemy targets could be quietly dealt with before Kasim realized what was happening.

Rizok stepped into the dimly lit tavern, immediately hit by the pungent aroma of stale ale mixed with the faint scent of burnt herbs. The room was filled with a low hum of conversation, the patrons’ voices blending into a monotonous drone. Lanterns hung from the ceiling, casting flickering shadows that danced across the walls. Despite the criminal activities that likely took place within, it had the appearance of a typical drinking establishment.

He scanned the room, noting a few telltale signs of illicit activities. A well-dressed naga and a rough-looking human huddled in a corner, exchanging vials of what looked like Euphoria Elixir for a bag of gold. A heavily scarred ogre, standing against the wall and looking over the room with an air of feigned indifference. A scantily dressed lizardkin, wrapping her tail suggestively around a blushing young man.

Rizok ignored all of this and began walking toward the bartender once he saw that his target had already moved beyond the main room.

“I’m here for the special blend,” Rizok said as soon as he reached the bar, repeating the password given to him by the Tessik. It was a bit basic, but it made sense not to give mind-addled potion addicts an overly complex code. The bartender gave him a scrutinizing look before tilting his head toward a door at the back and spoke curtly. “Through there.”

Rizok raised a brow ridge at the casual security, but he guessed that the Silk Serpents likely had many other means of maintaining order that wouldn’t ruin the moods of their customers.

Rizok moved through the indicated door, entering a narrow hallway lit with dim, flickering sconces. The smell of incense mixed with the sweet, cloying scent of various potions permeated the air, creating a heady atmosphere that made his scales prickle with discomfort.

He barely took a step forward when a towering ogre, muscles rippling beneath his rough-spun tunic, blocked his path. “Don’t start any trouble, lizard. Spread your arms and stand still.”

Rizok nodded, keeping his movements slow and deliberate. He raised his arms slightly, indicating his compliance. The ogre’s massive hands patted him down, searching for any hidden weapons. Satisfied that Rizok was unarmed, the ogre stepped aside after being handed an enchanted token that had been bought from the Silk Serpents a few days earlier. The ogre gave him directions to the private room that had been rented out to Rizok before waving him off.

Rizok continued past a hallway that opened into a chamber so large that it could only be the result of a spatial-expanding skill, similar to one Gurza used for her bakery. The ceiling was supported by carved stone pillars, and various alcoves lined the walls, each occupied by patrons lost in the throes of their chosen poison.

One corner held a group of naga, their scales shimmering under the dim light as they inhaled a sparkling, iridescent smoke that left them giggling and swaying in time to some unheard melody. Another alcove hosted a pair of dwarves sharing a glowing blue liquid, their eyes dilated and unfocused as they mumbled incoherently to one another.

Rizok’s eyes were drawn to a particularly gaunt naga who sat alone, his hands trembling as he reached toward a barely dressed human woman and buried his fangs in one of her breasts.

Rizok looked away in disgust at the sheer ecstasy on the naga’s face. He’d heard whispers of children taken by [Noble Cannibals] or powerful criminal groups and cultivated to acquire classes that made them… fit for consumption. High-level individuals with such classes were said to have skills that allowed them to regenerate from nearly any wound, have flesh that tasted indescribably delicious, and possess blood that could heal better than most healing potions.

This wasn’t the first time that Rizok had seen the System exploited to such horrific ends—the [Slave Masters] of Arzuma were experts of their craft, and he’d once helped intercept a shipment of such unfortunate souls. But it always seemed unspeakably profane to have something as personal and intrinsic as a class twisted to such grotesque purpose.

Rizok shuddered and resolved to convince Zareth that something needed to be done about the Silk Serpents, after all of the cult’s current enemies had already been dealt with.

He forced himself to continue to the private room that had been rented out by the Tessik, where he could sense Kasim Dhari waiting for him.

“Rizok. Vidhatri and the rest of the team believe they’ve managed to locate all of the other [Assassins] in the vicinity. They were extremely well hidden, but not enough to conceal themselves from the Eye of Cerebon. The [Monks] estimate that with the number of people in the kill-zone, they’ll only be able to maintain the [Ritual of Serenity] for around five minutes. You’ll only have that long to deal with Kasim before it wears off.”

Rizok returned a quick telepathic acknowledgment before decisively stepping into the private room and forced himself not to react as Kasim stepped out of the nearby shadows and placed a no-doubt poisoned knife to his throat.

“You’re late. We agreed that you would already be here when I arrived,” Kasim’s voice was a whisper, deadly and calm.

“I apologize. My employers wanted to ensure that everything was secure before proceeding,” Rizok replied evenly, though he did manage to inject a subtle shake in his voice. “They were worried that House Khysar may have realized we’d contacted you and set some kind of trap. One can never be too careful when dealing with the Great Houses. I’m sure you understand.”

Kasim remained silent for several moments, scrutinizing Rizok intently. Then, he stepped back, lowered the blade from Rizok’s throat, and turned his back to him, clearly showing that the [Assassin] didn’t view him as a threat as he walked to a nearby seat.

“You would be wise to suggest to your employers that they don’t test our patience with such unnecessary delays in the future,” Kasim said coldly as he gestured to the seat on the opposite side of a table filled with vials of generic mind-altering potions, powders, and other substances that Rizok couldn’t easily identify. “They spent a fair amount of gold simply to arrange for this meeting to happen. It would be a shame if that had all gone to waste due to a miscommunication.”

‘A fair amount of gold’ was a bit of an understatement. This arrangement would likely have been impossible without the Cult of Cerebon investing a significant portion of their fortune from aesthetic flesh-shaping and providing numerous assurances that the contract would not disrupt their relationship with House Khysar.

Some of Rizok’s distaste must have shown in his expression because Kasim hummed lightly and offered a comment. “I’m surprised that you seem to have no interest in partaking in these… delicacies. I see no reasonable motivation for you to choose a place like this for business if you weren’t planning to indulge.”

Rizok could hear the thin thread of suspicion in Kasim’s voice and immediately knew that he was dealing with someone too paranoid to be caught off-guard by a sudden attack.

A pity.

“This is the best place to conduct business without drawing undue attention and ensuring the safety of both parties,” said Rizok, lying through his teeth as he took a seat. “Once we’ve… gotten to know each other, we can proceed with private meetings in more comfortable locati⁠—”

It was at that moment that one of the more unfavorable possible outcomes occurred. Rizok felt the very second that the [Ritual of Serenity] took effect, blanketing the entire tavern and all of the surrounding buildings if the plan had gone as intended.

It felt as if a blanket of enforced tranquility settled over the area, dulling his mind and urging Rizok to remain calm. He had no doubt that without his [Aura of Resolve], he would have succumbed to the same fate as every other individual within the ritual’s radius, rendered so placid that he wouldn’t even react if someone were killed right in front of him.

Rizok raised the Order of the Serene Path’s threat assessment several notches in his mind.

Aside from ensuring that the strike team could act without worrying about witnesses, they had also been hoping that the [Ritual of Serenity] would render the [Assassins] too complacent to defend themselves or at least throw them off long enough for a surprise attack.

Neither was true in the case of Kasim Dhari.

Rizok hastily dodged to the side as the table was immediately flipped into his face, illicit substances filling the air. Pulling on the belt gifted to him by Vidhatri—crafted from hardened leather and interlocking pieces of bone—he activated [Temporary Blade] just in time to turn the belt into a weapon and deflect the volley of envenomed knives that pierced through the table.

Kasim acted immediately to exploit his distraction, sprinting across the walls in defiance of gravity almost faster than Rizok could see toward the exit.

[Lunge Strike].

Rizok lunged toward Kasim at lightning speed, his blade cutting through the air. It was clear from his widening eyes that Kasim hadn’t expected to be fighting someone just as fast or as high-leveled as himself. That was likely the only reason why Rizok was able to cut a gash through Kasim’s arm before the [Poison-Master Assassin] used a skill to suddenly flicker several feet away.

Rizok immediately responded by dashing toward his enemy and throwing out a [Far Slash] that would have removed one of Kasim’s arms if he hadn’t easily jumped over the invisible attack. Still, it gave Rizok enough time to close the distance and engage Kasim in a flurry of close-range combat as the human pulled out a pair of wicked curved daggers.

Rizok’s makeshift weapon was a blur as the two of them traded blows. It only took a few moments for Rizok to conclude he’d been right that a straight between the two of them would fall in his favor. The only real advantage that Kasim had was his far superior weapons, the enchanted daggers forcing Rizok to dodge more than parry, else his [Temporary Blade] be shattered by the deadly edges.

But even so, Rizok’s superior experience gave him the upper hand when it came to direct combat.

It was clear that Kasim seemed to have drawn the same conclusion. He feigned a stab toward Rizok’s chest, then abruptly snapped his wounded arm toward him. Rizok only realized Kasim’s true intentions when several droplets of the human’s blood splattered on his face and began burning through his scales like acid.

Rizok let out a grunt of pain and instinctively stepped back just as Kasim opened his mouth and spit out a cloud of thick, dark green smog in his direction that melted the debris scattered across the floor.

[Aura of Repulsion].

Rizok dashed through the smog as it parted in his wake, unsurprised to see that Kasim had already begun fleeing. The human was clever enough to recognize that this trap would grow harder for him to escape with each passing moment. This was confirmed by the telepathic messages from Zareth informing him that the rest of the [Assassins] outside of the tavern were being successfully dealt with one after another.

But none of that would mean anything if Kasim managed to escape and report back to House Khysar.

Rizok chased after his target, using the Eye of Cerebon to track Kasim’s movements through the twisting corridors and [Aura of Bolstering] to enhance his speed. He growled in frustration as the human managed to avoid each of his [Far Slashes], leaping behind obstacles and cleverly using placid bystanders as shields.

It was incredibly frustrating and made it difficult for Rizok to catch up to his target.

“Zareth. I need assistance. I won’t be able to intercept Kasim before he exits the tavern. Send Vidhatri if possible. She’s the most likely to survive the enemy’s poisons.”

“Can’t. She’s busy with her own target. I’ll send one of the others instead.”

“Understood.”

Rizok wasn’t happy about the situation, but he forced those feelings aside and focused on chasing down Kasim. Everything would be ruined if the human managed to escape the perimeter of the [Ritual of Serenity], and Rizok refused to be the one whose failure brought them all to ruin.

It didn’t take long for Kasim and Rizok to burst into the tavern’s main room, where an eerie silence hung in the air. The patrons stared listlessly ahead, creepy smiles plastered on their faces.

Kasim quickly darted out onto the street and was about to jump onto the nearby roofs when Rizok finally caught up to him, instantly unleashing a [Triple Slash] that sent three blurs racing toward the human from all directions.

Such an attack aimed at an opponent’s back was something that Rizok fully expected to result in a lethal hit. But Kasim proved himself exceptional when he used a skill to kick off the air mid-jump, twisted himself impossibly between all three attacks, and left a gash across Rizok’s shoulder that he immediately knew was poisoned.

Rizok kept his focus razor-sharp as he charged toward Kasim, engaging the human again in close combat and refusing to allow him the chance to escape. He could tell that the poison was one of the worst that he had ever been exposed to, burning through his veins like lava and swiftly slowing him down with each passing moment.

He could also tell that the poison would be lethal unless Vidhatri managed to arrive and purge it soon.

But Rizok didn’t allow himself to feel fear. The only thing he felt was humiliation that he’d allowed himself to be caught off-guard.

That humiliation was only compounded when the bastard who he was fighting seemed to decide that Rizok’s rapidly slowing movements meant he was no longer as great a threat and decided to start talking.

Kasim’s voice dripped with malice and satisfaction as he spoke, his movements now more calculated and less frantic. “You fought well, lizard. But your resistance was futile from the start. This poison is my masterpiece, a slow and agonizing death. It’s unfortunate that I don’t have enough time to truly enjoy watching my poison do its work, but I’ve never been one to allow pleasure to come befo⁠—”

Kasim had obviously spent too many years killing civilians too weak to fight back or poisoning people before they even knew they were under threat, because the human had lost respect for the unpredictable nature of battle.

Rizok’s [Aura of Terror] only affected Kasim for a single moment before the human’s Willpower allowed him to escape its effect, but that was all that he needed. Kasim almost seemed confused as Rizok’s blade cut through his stomach, causing his entrails to spill out with a wet, sickening sound. It was undoubtedly a lethal wound unless Kasim received some kind of healing. The human’s Vitality would have allowed him to continue on fighting for quite a while longer, which was why Rizok followed up his attack with a [Lunge Strike] that impaled Kasim through the heart and pinned him into the street.

That should have been enough. [Assassins] of all types were notorious for focusing on Agility to the detriment of the other physical stats, so even if he had a level in the 40s, there should have been no reasonable way for Kasim to survive such a devastating blow for more.

Rizok could only assume that one of the human’s enchanted items was responsible for Kasim glaring up at him with hate-filled eyes and barely having enough energy to activate a skill.

Time almost seemed to move in slow motion as every inch of Kassim’s flesh began to emanate the same dark-green smog that the human had spewed out earlier. It was clearly a skill designed to kill a large crowd of people in a short amount of time and would almost certainly cause a mass-casualty event if used in the middle of Tal’Qamar’s streets.

The only reason he didn’t use it before was likely because of my [Aura of Repulsion], Rizok mused dispassionately as he analyzed the attack that was very likely to kill him. But now I’m too close for that to make a difference, and my limbs have stopped responding due to the poison. Damn it all. Just when life was starting to become interesting…

Just as Rizok was about to use his Agility-enhanced perception of time to self-pityingly reflect on all the things he would miss, an absolute torrent of sand descended on Kasim and encased the human in a thick shell.

“Rizok!”

Rizok wasn’t sure that he had ever heard anything more beautiful than the sound of Vidhatri’s voice calling out to him at that moment. The next few moments were hazy. All he could remember was smiling up at Vidhatri while she fussed over him and began purifying the toxins from his flesh.

There was someone else there as well, a Desharin man wreathed entirely in sand who was pouring several different colored potions onto the captured killer, but Rizok really couldn’t bring himself to care.

Not when the most gorgeous creature in the world was cradling him with her six strong arms, eyes filled with worry.

Zareth wanted to bang his head against the table.

“—hat little adventure of ours was very nearly a complete and utter failure! Had that damned killer escaped, the consequences would have been catastrophic. It’s only a matter of luck that we managed to get away with this. I sincerely hope for your sake that our future cooperation doesn’t end up looking like this.”

Zareth took a deep breath as he sat back in his seat and offered Cerebon a quick prayer, begging for patience. It was far too early for this. He had barely woken up and finished his morning routine before Farida arrived at his spire and demanded a meeting with him.

He’d expected to be able to enjoy a peaceful eight hours of sleep after the success of last night’s operation, but that was apparently too much to hope for! Worse yet, Farida wasn’t even really here to talk about what their alliance had done last night.

No, he knew her well enough to know when the old woman was softening him up with complaints so that she could bring up something else.

“Without suffering any casualties on our end, we managed to kill two experienced [Assassins] and capture three more,” Zareth said with as much calm as he could muster. “One of those captured being their leader, Kasim Dhari, who my close friend risked his life to ensure wouldn’t escape. Our plan would have worked just by capturing even the lower-ranking [Assassins], but Kasim will be a veritable gold mine of information. He’s proven resistant to interrogation, but that won’t matter once the Order of the Serene Path finishes… compromising him. You have absolutely nothing to complain about in regards to last night’s events, so I suggest you stop wasting both of our time with your nonsense, Farida.”

Zareth’s voice was filled with steel by the end of his statement. He was willing to tolerate a lot from Farida because he could tell that most of her unpleasant personality was either borne out of genuine care for her people or intentionally exaggerated to achieve some kind of goal, but he wouldn’t allow her to insult his friend’s efforts to his face.

Things had been extremely dicey last night. The [Ritual of Serenity] had ended literal seconds after Vidhatri and Rizok were swept off the street by a wave of sand thanks to their Desharin collaborator, and the Silk Serpents had almost immediately swarmed like a hive of disturbed System Spawn.

Liberal usage of healing potions, Vidhatri’s quick actions, and a decent amount of luck had ensured that the only casualties of the night belonged to the enemy. But things had been a lot closer than he would have liked.

Still, all signs were pointing to them getting away scot-free. It helped that the Silk Serpents were doing everything in their power to suppress news that would bring attention to their breach in security or compromise their illicit business. It also helped that the Order of the Serene Path was the least known of Tal’Qamar’s new faiths, and very few people understood what they were capable of doing.

None of the tavern’s guests could remember the night’s events with any real clarity. The witnesses could only recall a hazy, tranquil night where nothing of significance happened.

All in all, things had gone as well as they could have with the exception of Rizok’s brush with death, so he hoped Farida had an actual reason to have woken him up so early.

He had planned to spend his morning eating breakfast while considering how he should best spend the Skill Point he’d earned last week. He had been taking his time since he wasn’t in any particular rush and none of his options were immediately applicable to his current plans, but he was starting to think that he should just get the matter done with if he was going to keep being so busy.

Zareth suddenly felt inordinately jealous of Rizok, who was probably still snoring while being enveloped by three pairs of arms.

Turning his attention back to Farida, Zareth saw a flash of respect in her eyes that indicated this bout of criticism was some sort of test rather than genuine disapproval.

“Good to see you stick up for your people, lad. Maybe you have what it takes to lead this little group of ours after all,” Farida said with a note of satisfaction. “As for my real reason for coming here, I wanted to talk to you about that expedition I proposed before you pulled us into planning last night. We’ve helped you, so now it’s time that you return the favor.”

Ah, that…

“It’s one thing to venture out into the Qahtani Desert along well-established trade routes. It’s another thing entirely to travel into the Shifting Expanse at a moment’s notice,” Zareth said, stifling a yawn as he attempted to reason with the old woman. “When I said that the Desharin and the Gruvulk know the desert better than I ever could and agreed that you should be the ones to decide on a location for our shared settlement, I was expecting you to choose somewhere a bit less… utterly insane.”

It had been more than a week since Zareth’s meeting with his peers; aside from planning last night’s kidnapping, most of it had been spent arguing over a single topic. Ever since Farida and Borak had begun eagerly delving into their people’s records, searching for the perfect location for their future city, they had been immersed in endless debates.

Though admittedly, that was likely reasonable given the circumstances. Capturing the [Assassin] would give Zareth the leverage that he needed to secure a seat on the Oversight Commission, but that wasn’t the primary reason why Farida or Borak had agreed to an alliance.

It was difficult to overstate just how important this city would be and the possible widespread consequences that could follow.

What Cerebon had given him had the potential to upend the entire geopolitical situation in the local region and potentially across the entirety of Valandor if Zareth ever managed to produce the seeds in large numbers. He had no doubt that General Nasrith would have already confiscated the “Seed of Creation,” as Zareth had taken to calling it, if they didn’t happen to be his political ally.

As it was, Nasrith had little choice but to discreetly and preemptively register the seed as a Critical Asset of Tal’Qamar. Doing so did mean that the Cult of Cerebon would need High Command’s prior assent to actually use it, but it would also notably limit interference from the Great Houses.

Critical Assets were simply too important, and many of the Great Houses who possessed one enjoyed significant privileges and protections. Nobody would want to set a precedent that risked compromising their own power.

But this meant that it was more important than ever that the Hierophant’s Council find a place that could satisfy the political objectives of everyone involved in this project while simultaneously being somewhere that could sustain what would one day be a major city.

General Nasrith insisted that the prospective city be established somewhere militarily useful, Farida was insistent that they “get as far away from the snakes as possible,” and Borak would doubtlessly be very particular about how the local Ether affected his people.

Finding such a place proved to be much more difficult than expected, which said a lot given that Zareth’s expectations were already quite low to begin with. Every day had been filled with suggestions that were ultimately unsatisfactory for one reason or another, frustrating Zareth the longer this went on.

But that didn’t mean that Farida could just come up with the most ludicrous idea he’d ever heard and just expect to get away with it.

“Let’s… take a step back for a moment,” Zareth said with a measured tone, interrupting whatever surly response the old priestess was about to give. “Please explain to me why you and Borak seem to think it’s a good idea for us to send a team to survey the middle of the Shifting Expanse? One would think that the most dangerous region of the Qahtani Desert—a literal desolate wasteland filled with nothing but hostile sand elementals—would be a rather poor place to build a city.”

No known sources of water, countless Living Sands for miles around, and an unusually large number of System Spawn nests made the place a veritable death trap. There was a good reason that not even the highest-level [Merchants] dared to traverse the Shifting Expanse despite the amount of travel time they would save by doing so.

The risks were simply too great.

Much to his surprise, Farida’s fiery demeanor seemed to cool slightly at his question, her mouth curving into a smug smile. “Oh? Have I finally found the limits of the great Zareth’s ambition? Have you lost your nerve mere hours after arranging the murder and kidnapping of several people? How disappointing that you would pass over this opportunity. Was it not you who recommended that we exploit your miraculous seed’s ability to make previously barren lands habitable?”

Zareth used every bit of self-control possible to stop cringing at Farida’s phrasing. The old woman could sense weakness like a shark smelling blood in the water and wasn’t so proper that she would avoid using dirty jokes to get under his skin.

“I’ve no doubt that someone as power-hungry as you noticed immediately that such a location would place us in the center of every trade route in the Qahtani Desert,” Farida continued, thankfully not seeming to notice his momentary discomfort. “Almost every single city-state in the Qahtani Desert was established around the Shifting Expanse’s periphery. [Merchants] from Tal’Hadin, Fal’Ashar, Fal’Farakh, Anket, Dairut, and even the North Watch would fight tooth and nail for access to a settlement in the heart of the desert. Are you truly going to dismiss such an opportunity?”

For all her unpleasantness, the crafty old woman certainly understood him well enough to know what appealed to him the most.

“You’re right that we need to use every advantage that we can, but that doesn’t mean that we should settle in literally the most dangerous place possible. Besides, it would take time for any such trade routes to safely pass through this new settlement,” Zareth objected half-heartedly as his curiosity began to grow. “But both you and Borak are smart enough to know all of this, so I assume that you have an actual reason for barging into my spire barely after dawn and demanding I help you send an expedition into the middle of nowhere.”

Farida was silent for several long moments, a contemplative expression on her face. Zareth patiently waited for her to mull over whatever dilemma she was considering before Farida finally nodded to herself as she seemed to reach a decision.

“Silvaris spoke to me recently, more directly than he’s done in many years,” Farida said, her expression indecipherable as she seemed to change the topic. “The God of Resilience and Travel is not so… coddling, as yours appears to be. He demands self-reliance among his followers, and I have never known him as one who would allow the kind of extravagant rituals that your own patron seems willing to tolerate.”

It was difficult to tell, but Zareth was almost certain that he could hear a thin note of… bitterness in Farida’s voice. But whether that bitterness was directed to Zareth for his perceived luxury or toward her own god was unclear.

“Why are you telling me this?” Zareth asked, confused as to how this related to their earlier discussion.

“I’m telling you this to make you realize just how extraordinary it is that Silvaris has chosen to grant us enough of his power to safely traverse the Shifting Expanse,” Farida leaned in, her eyes boring into Zareth’s. “Silvaris has never done this before. He’s a god who believes in the survival of the fittest, in testing the limits of endurance and resilience. For him to offer such a boon means he sees something of great importance in this venture. It means that whatever your god told him to agree to this little alliance of ours is far more significant than I realized. Care to explain?”

Zareth froze, his mind racing with the implications of what he’d heard. He noticed that Farida hadn’t explained the specifics about what her god had done, whether it be providing her with a new skill, some kind of divine artifact akin to the Seed of Creation, or something else, but reliable passage through the Shifting Expanse changed a lot.

With this, placing their future city there would indeed become a feasible option and would be advantageous for all the reasons Farida had previously mentioned.

It didn’t escape his notice that it would also allow the Priesthood of Silvaris a greater degree of control and influence over the proposed city if they were the only ones who could guarantee safe passage in or out.

This galled him more than a little, but he could hardly complain when the Seed of Creation would grant his cult near complete control over the city’s water and food supply. The only complication that came to mind was the risk that such an advantageously located city would garner more attention from rival factions than previously estimated.

However, Zareth had never been one to shy away from a challenge. He felt a surge of excitement building within him as he considered the possibilities, only to have it abruptly smothered when he finally recognized the previously unclear emotion on Farida’s face.

Oh. I understand why Farida had felt the need to demand a meeting so urgently instead of waiting for a more reasonable hour…

“You’re afraid,” Zareth said with no small amount of surprise. He’d never known Farida to be anything less than unwaveringly certain at all times, so this was… very unexpected.

“Afraid? No. I would say that I am… unsettled,” Farida said, her eyes narrowing slightly. “I imagine that you would be as well, but I can tell that you are not nearly as ignorant of our deities as the rest of us are. Am I correct?”

Zareth froze, carefully considering how he should respond. Cerebon had been quite explicit that he shouldn’t spread information about System War and that his fellow deities might react… poorly, if he was to do so carelessly.

Ultimately, it would be up to the rest of the Hierophant’s Council’s deities to choose what their followers should know about their burgeoning pantheon’s greater purpose.

But that did put Zareth in a bit of an awkward position…

It was hard to foster trust among his peers when he needed to blatantly keep secrets from them, and he’d been hoping that he would have more time before his peers noticed that he was withholding information.

Before he could come up with some sort of excuse, Farida simply sighed and nodded in acceptance, standing up from her seat a few moments later. “Very well. Your answer is clear from your silence. I will trust Silvaris’s judgment, and abstain from pressing you further.”

Much to Zareth’s surprise, Farida nodded to him and turned toward the door.

“Wait, was that all that you wanted?” Zareth asked, startled by her sudden departure. “What about the expedition that you woke me up at the break of dawn to talk about?”

“That? I already saw the greed in your eyes once you realized that I hadn’t lost my mind, brat. We can talk about the final details tomorrow, with the rest of the council,” Farida said with a dismissive wave of her hand as she made her way to the exit. “I only really wanted to gauge your reaction to my accusation when I knew that you’d stayed up all night and that you were too tired to feed me nonsense.”

Zareth couldn’t help but scowl at the old woman’s cunning. “I see,” he muttered, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “Well played, Farida. I suppose I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Indeed you will,” she replied with a slight smirk as she reached the door.”

Just as she was about to exit, Farida seemed to suddenly remember something that caused her to turn back to Zareth.

“Before I go, I should warn you that the collective willingness of our group’s deities to expend Divine Essence in pursuit of this mysterious agenda of ours will not go unnoticed by the Conclave indefinitely,” Farida said, her tone serious. “Deities in general have a tendency to be… frugal with their power. Both because it is finite and to avoid escalation during conflicts like this war, which would see their Divine Essence spent and their followers slaughtered in large numbers. I’m not aware of the specific mechanisms of how the gods monitor one another, but it’s my experience that the Conclave was not entirely ignorant of anything Silvaris did while they still held control over Tal’Qamar. With you, myself, and soon the [Monks] performing major divine rituals in such a short period of time, it’s very possible that the Conclave will have taken notice and will react. You should inform the chief snake of this.”

Zareth immediately winced and felt a headache coming on. That wasn’t a conversation that he was eager to have. General Nasrith needed the Hierophant’s Council too much this close to his planned reforms, but he wouldn’t be happy to hear that his soldiers might be under greater risk of divine retribution because of their actions.

“Thank you for sharing this with me, Farida. I’ll be sure to relay the information to General Nasrith,” Zareth said, his voice strained. “Is there anything else?”

To his immense relief, Farida shook her head. “No, there isn’t. Only that you should speak to the boy running your cult. I gave him a Potion of Wakefulness when I arrived. It’s best that you be alert when you confront the Circle of Ghisara. It’d be a waste of all this scheming if you failed the next step of our plan because you were too tired to think clearly.”

Zareth didn’t know whether to be grateful that Farida was thoughtful enough to provide him with the potion or infuriated that she was the reason that he needed it in the first place.

But before he could settle on either emotion, the old woman had already left with a smug smirk on her lips, as if she had known exactly what he was thinking. Alone again in his office, Zareth sighed and sat back in his chair, rubbing his temples as he tried to fight back his annoyance.

I should tell Tamir not to allow Farida into the spire unless it’s an emergency…

He now knew for certain that this alliance was going to be more troublesome than he anticipated.

Chapter 19

Manipulate Ether – Grants the user the ability to more finely control and shape Ether. +3 Control.

Ether Resistance – Increases the user’s ability to withstand the effects of channeling Ether without suffering negative effects. +2 Vitality. +1 Spirit.

Echoes of the Etherveil – Allows users to vaguely sense past imprints on the Etherveil.

Zareth took a harder bite than necessary out of Gurza’s latest creation, barely noticing the bread’s peculiar coconut flavor as he focused on how to best spend his Skill Point.

These three options weren’t exactly bad, but they were a tad bit… unsatisfying.

He couldn’t deny that any one of these skills would be useful to him if he were to walk further down the path of magic—which he fully intended to do—but recent events had made clear that none of them would be immediately useful in a way he would like.

During the planning of yesterday’s operation, Zareth had initially proposed that he take a more active role in capturing the [Assassins]. After all, Zareth had participated in a decent amount of fights at this point, and he was very confident in his own survivability. He had even already faced off against two combatants who were estimated to be around the same level as the [Assassins] they were targeting, and he’d come out on top!

Given that Zareth was likely more than 10 levels below both the earthbending ogre he’d defeated en route to Jabal-Alma and the elderly woman who had stabbed him in the throat, who could blame him for feeling a bit proud of himself? Especially since he didn’t possess a combat-dedicated class and only had the training given to him by Rizok?

However, Vidhatri had very firmly humbled him after Zareth suggested he could handle one of the [Assassins] himself.

Even if he could have stopped them from simply running away the first time any of them spotted Zareth—which was something he had embarrassingly not considered and wasn’t likely given his relatively low Agility—he had forgotten one important detail.

All of his fights so far had taken place under the protection of Rizok and, more crucially, while benefiting from the effects of the soldier’s auras.

Zareth hadn’t fully appreciated just how powerful those auras actually were until he’d been forced to watch Rizok fight while not under their effect. The entire fight between Rizok and Kasim Dhari had barely lasted 90 seconds from beginning to end, practically a blur of lethal precision and terrifying power. The majority of the [Ritual of Serenity] had actually been dedicated to Vidhatri healing Rizok’s wounds and the Tessik cleaning up the crime scene, so quick and violent was the operation.

Zareth wouldn’t have even been able to see what was happening if not for [Eye of Cerebon], and he had no doubt that he would’ve been quite helpless to protect himself if he faced someone like Kasim Dhari alone.

Many might have questioned his audacity for feeling discontent about not being able to take on a seasoned killer with two decades of experience and twenty levels above him, but Zareth couldn’t deny that he felt a bit frustrated.

He would be blackmailing a very well-connected naga in just a few hours, and in a few days he would be making himself a mortal enemy of House Khysar. The Great Houses weren’t exactly kind enough to take Zareth’s age and relative lack of experience into account when seeking retribution, other than to see it as a weakness to exploit.

If he wasn’t actually as strong as he thought he was, then his plans were much more dangerous than he had initially realized, and he needed a way to rectify the issue.

Zareth had no doubt that continuing to study the Etherveil and unlocking more powerful Sigils that he could then incorporate into his repertoire would eventually pay dividends, but that was very much a long-term investment. Not only did he need something to help him navigate the threats he would face in the coming months, but these skills also wouldn’t be particularly useful for his immediate tasks.

Etherveil-based skills served the dual purpose of increasing Zareth’s personal power and allowing him to make more sophisticated bio-magical enhancements, but most of his activities over the next few months would be heavily focused on politics and leadership. He simply wouldn’t have all that much time to spend in the laboratory finding new ways to incorporate Sigils into his biological augmentations.

Even the System seemed to recognize this, if the recent option to evolve [Leadership] was any indication.

Leadership Evolution(s):

Pious Leadership – This skill improves the decision-making enhancements bestowed by [Leadership], with a special emphasis on guiding one’s followers to your deity’s principles. Followers are more likely to be offered theological-based classes and skills by the System. User will have instinctive knowledge on their deity’s impression on key decisions, allowing them to more align with their divine will. +2 Spirit. +2 Willpower.

Strategic Leadership – This skill improves the decision-making enhancements bestowed by [Leadership], with a special emphasis on tactical planning relating to any group they manage. Followers gain a slight coordination improvement to any plan devised by the user and are more likely to execute those plans effectively. User will be more able to predict enemy actions. +2 Willpower. +2 Control.

Pedagogical Leadership – This skill improves the decision-making enhancements bestowed by [Leadership], with a special emphasis on teaching and training one’s followers. Allows the user to significantly improve learning and skill acquisition of their followers through active guidance. Followers are more likely to be offered classes and skills that correspond with their talents and ambitions. +2 Spirit. +2 Control.

This was the first time that Zareth had ever seen a single skill offer three different possible evolutions, which was definitely a sign that whatever intelligence ran the System agreed with his assessment and sympathized with his current predicament. All of these skills seemed far more immediately useful than any of the others being offered to him, given that they each improved the base effects of [Leadership], which was a relief.

Were there any cults that worshiped the System? Would Cerebon get jealous if Zareth started praying to it?

“It’s far more likely that you’re simply near to fulfilling the requirements for your Ruler class. The Weaver may favor you, but I would thank you not to profane his name in my presence.”

Zareth stiffened as he realized that he’d been muttering thoughts out loud. He had developed the habit because Rizok often assisted him with strategic planning, but he had forgotten that Vidhatri had decided to join him today on this trip to Gurza’s Bakery.

The zealot was, unsurprisingly, glaring at him from across the table for his minor bout of sacrilege, but most of her attention was dedicated to hand-feeding chunks of bread to the far-too-pleased lizardkin by her side. Rizok had mostly recovered from his injuries sustained against Kasim Dhari, but the lingering effects of the poison had left him somewhat lethargic. He was more than willing to exploit this fact to garner extra attention from Vidhatri.

Zareth resisted the urge to roll his eyes as he watched Rizok smirk in his direction while lazily lounging back and enjoying Vidhatri’s attention.

There’s really no need for you to look so smug…

“My Ruler class? What makes you think that?” Zareth asked, eager to change the topic. “Is the System really that responsive that it would alter the skills being offered to me even before my class changes?”

Zareth could tell that his redirection had been successful when all four of Vidhatri’s eyes lit up with excitement. He’d noticed that she seemed to quite enjoy teaching the cult’s members and sharing her knowledge.

“The System is a complex and highly enigmatic entity, with capabilities beyond mortal comprehension. Some [Scholars] even argue that the System is alive and actively pursuing its own agenda, despite widespread skepticism. Nonetheless, it is universally acknowledged that the System adapts to the needs and potentials of its users. Take, for instance, the [Pious Leadership] skill. Your banner attracts an overwhelming number of faithless leeches and near-heretics. The System’s recognition of this fact is a clear indication that it responds to your circumstances, urging you to better guide your followers to Cerebon’s grace.”

Zareth highly doubted that the System particularly cared about how pious his followers were when not even Cerebon himself seemed to concern himself with the matter. The god had explained that the greater numbers of followers that the cult was able to pull in by being lenient offset the benefit he’d receive from a smaller, more devout following. Therefore, Cerebon didn’t much care how Zareth chose to run things.

But Zareth certainly wasn’t going to say as much to Vidhatri. Fortunately, or perhaps unfortunately, he was saved from having to come up with a response when a gruff voice interrupted their conversation.

“Well, that’s one of the stupidest things I’ve heard today, and I spend my time workin’ in the Sunrise Slums, so I’m used to hearin’ a whole heap of nonsense,” Gurza said as she placed a basket of freshly baked goods on the table and cast a scowl in Zareth’s direction, completely ignoring the shivarath’s baleful glare. “The lad’s cult is doing fine as it is. No sense in searchin’ for problems where none exist.”

What the hell did I do? I didn’t even say anything!

Vidhatri clearly didn’t appreciate being disregarded, because she narrowed her eyes at Gurza and spoke up before Zareth could muster a response.

“I can see clearly that you may have once been a warrior of some competence, but Zareth does not need the advice of someone who resigned themselves to being a [Baker]. I suggest you stay your tongue before your words cause it to be removed from your skull.”

Gurza responded to the threat with a scoff as she turned her gaze to Vidhatri. “Better a [Baker] than a zealot. You don’t frighten me, girl. Pray to your god that you never learn why.”

“Better a zealot than a faithless fool, drifting aimlessly through life like a leaf in the wind,” Vidhatri shot back with a snarl. “And he is not your god as well, or do you admit to being an opportunistic leech?”

“If Cerebon had an issue with it, he’d let everyone know. I’ve never known gods to be subtle ’bout their displeasure,” Gurza remarked with a casual shrug. Vidhatri looked ready to leap across the table and strangle the ogre, with only the lizardkin practically nestled in her lap stopping her.

A lizardkin who seemed far too amused with the situation as he used his tail to lightly flick a piece of bread into his mouth, clearly enjoying the show.

Damn it, Rizok. I’m going to convince Nasrith to let me handle your salary, just so that I can dock it! Please be a little more helpful!

Zareth had no desire to witness Vidhatri losing her temper, so he quickly stepped in to defuse the situation. “I think we all just need to take a moment to calm do⁠—”

“And you, don’t you ever take a moment to stop your schemin’ and relax?” Gurza interrupted, her tone scolding as she whirled back to Zareth with a scowl on her face. “Every time I see you, you’re worryin’ about some political nonsense or frettin’ over your next move. That’s your right while in that fancy spire of yours, but have you been out of the slums so long that you forgot the rules while you’re in here?”

Zareth used his powers to halt the blood rushing to his cheeks, feeling a sudden wave of embarrassment as if he were once again an urchin being lectured by Gurza. Everyone in the Sunrise Slums knew that she had strict rules for anyone who entered her bakery.

Gurza couldn’t stop people from joining the local gangs, but she was very forceful about keeping people from bringing their squabbles into her bakery. This meant that she didn’t tolerate fighting, arguing, or anything involving conflict in her shop.

Gurza’s Bakery was supposed to be a neutral place where people could just relax and safely leave their troubles at the door.

“In my defense, we weren’t actually talking about politics or anything that breaks your rules,” Zareth said while flashing Gurza with his most innocent smile. Predictably, she didn’t look impressed. “I was just pondering on how to best spend my Skill Point, is all. I’m sure you can’t blame me for that?”

Gurza glared at him for several more seconds before softening her expression and letting out a sigh. “That’s fine, I suppose. Even if you’re not followin’ the spirit of the rules and allowin’ yourself to relax like you should. You need a hobby, lad. Even Tamir’s gettin’ worried ’bout you, lad. He’s the one who asked me to make sure you don’t work yourself into an early grave.”

Zareth winced. He’d wondered why Tamir had insisted that he should be the one to retrieve today’s treats from the bakery. He should have known that the kid was growing concerned from all of the unsubtle glances and worried expressions he’d been getting.

Probably didn’t help that Rizok had been dragged into the spire half-dead during the middle of the night. Especially when Zareth swore everyone who saw it to secrecy under penalty of angry flesh god and then refused to elaborate.

That kind of thing tended to raise a few eyebrows.

Still, now wasn’t exactly a good moment for Zareth to slack off. “I’ll look into finding time to relax, but it’ll have to wait a week or so. There are… events happening soon that will be important to the cult’s future.”

Gurza studied him for a long moment before nodding, her expression reluctant. “Tell you what. If you agree to come by next week to let me show you the good that’s happened around here recently, and you agree to find a hobby, then I’ll give you an experienced old woman’s advice about those skill choices of yours. Been too long since you’ve walked these streets. That doesn’t change—you’ll end up like some of the more pretentious snake folks.”

Zareth had heard that there’d been some significant improvements to the situation in the Sunrise Slums. He’d maintained his initial agreement with Gurza, funneling gold to her that could be used to help people in exchange for her directing people to his cult, but he hadn’t had a chance to see the fruits of his labor.

The biggest changes were likely a result of the gangs losing a decent chunk of their hold on the area. Not all, of course, as the Sunrise Slums was their primary source of recruits. Zareth wasn’t exactly ready to go to war with the major gangs while he was busy with everything else. But things had changed here enough that criminals could no longer operate with impunity.

This meant that enterprising [Merchants] could finally set up shops and stalls without the constant threat of violence, and fewer [Street Urchins] were choosing to become [Thugs] and [Thieves] as soon as they were old enough to do so. Moreover, the Cult of Cerebon had gotten even more involved in the Sunrise Slums than Zareth had directed them to, with his [Cultists] taking the initiative to get involved with helping the community.

It shouldn’t be a surprise, considering that most of them had grown up in the slums and still had family and friends living there who hadn’t moved into the spire for one reason or another. However, he’d still been somewhat astonished when, on his way to the bakery just a few hours ago, he witnessed one of his [Cultists] healing an elderly lizardkin woman. By now, the Cult of Cerebon could genuinely assert that it had surpassed the Conclave in popularity within the Sunrise Slums, achieving a level of support the Conclave had never seen in their centuries-long presence in Tal’Qamar.

And that was just the beginning. He’d heard rumors of something happening with Mera and some of the… other people from his past, though he hadn’t paid them much attention. He’d gotten pretty good at not thinking about anything that reminded him of that chapter of his life.

Zareth shifted with discomfort under Gurza’s scrutinizing gaze.

It would be good to set aside some time to appreciate some of the changes happening in Tal’Qamar. A welcome reprieve from worrying about Great Houses, ancient conspiracies, and all of the nonsense that he usually dealt with.

And Gurza was probably correct. He didn’t want to get so caught up with politics that he forgot to live a little.

“I wouldn’t have expected this from you, Gurza,” Zareth said with a teasing smirk. “Growing soft in your old age? Usually you wouldn’t bother trying to make deals when you thought someone was acting like a fool. You’d just smack them in the⁠—”

Zareth regretted that he didn’t have his third eye open before speaking because Gurza’s massive palm delivered a solid thwack to his head before he could see it coming.

“Soft? Hmph. I remember when you were just a scrappy little brat who was too smart for his own good, hidin’ in my kitchen, ’cause you pissed off the wrong folks,” Gurza said gruffly, scolding him even as something nostalgic flashed across her features while she took a seat at the table. “Wasn’t easy makin’ sure you didn’t end up dead in a ditch. Glad I did, though. You turned out pretty decent in the end.”

Zareth offered Gurza a soft smile. His first few years after reincarnating in this world had been… rough, to say the least. The life of a veterinarian didn’t exactly equip a person with the life skills necessary to live as a [Street Urchin] in a medieval fantasy world.

Even if Gurza hadn’t been able to single-handedly feed every kid in the slums, she’d more often than not been a final place to turn to when other options had run out.

“Ugh. Save it. I can already see that whatever you’re about to say is going to make me wish I’d just left you to work yourself to the bone,” Gurza said with a disgusted expression as she took a moment to glare menacingly at a young ogre boy who was trying to sneak into the kitchen. “If you want to thank me, then just make sure you come back next week and that you don’t get in over your head with whatever nonsense you’re planning. You hear me?”

“Yes, ma’am. I’ll be sure to follow your instructions,” Zareth said with exaggerated seriousness before his tone returned to being teasing. “Is there anything else that I should keep in mind to avoid your wrath, Mama Gurza? Should I make sure that I go to bed early and drink my mil⁠—”

Zareth laughed as he leaned back in his seat and deftly dodged Gurza’s second swat with the aid of his third eye, extending a tendril from his back to steady himself and avoid falling over.

“Cheeky little bastard,” Gurza muttered irritably, though she didn’t try to hit him again. Instead, she crossed her arm and turned her attention to Rizok. “[Aura Blade]. How about you activate your [Aura of Silence] and give us a little privacy? Unless you want the details of your friend’s skills to be spread to every gang in Tal’Qamar.”

Zareth’s eyes widened in faint surprise. Not because Gurza thought that their conversation would get back to the gangs.

Even if the Cult of Cerebon was relatively popular in the Sunrise Slums, Zareth had no doubt that half of the customers currently in the bakery had criminal ties, so her concern was warranted. But rather because of her familiarity with Rizok’s class—and more so his skills. Enough so that she could directly name them despite her never having had an extended conversation with Rizok.

Zareth glanced toward his friend and saw that he seemed similarly taken aback. Rizok’s eyes narrowed slightly, but he nodded and activated [Aura of Silence]. The ambient noise from the bakery dulled to a soft murmur, creating a bubble of quiet around their table.

“How do you know so much of my Rizok’s class?” Vidhatri immediately asked, ever the direct one. Her expression was deathly serious, and she looked ready to attack if she didn’t get a satisfactory answer. “It was granted to him for service to the wealthy heathens of House Vehlen and is not a class I had ever heard of before arriving in this city. There’s no reason for a mere [Baker] to possess such knowledge.”

“When you’ve lived a life as long and interesting as mine, you learn a few things,” Gurza said with a shrug. “I spent a few decades with the military under [Trade Princess] Solthisia. There was an officer from House Seradis with the same class as your lover boy, so I knew what to look for.”

It was only due to his research into history and the Tessik’s careful record-keeping that Zareth was able to recognize the name Solthisia. If he recalled correctly, she was the ruler of Tal’Qamar around 150 years ago and was most famous for attempting to consolidate House Seradis’s control into a hereditary monarchy. She’d been quite successful for a time until she very suddenly died from an acute case of twenty stab wounds to the back.

A rather common ailment for high-ranking naga of the time.

Solthisa’s heir attempted to take her place and continue her work, only to fall victim to similar circumstances. This kicked off a period of political anarchy, which the Tessik refer to as the Crisis of Knives. Tal’Qamar’s upper class all began assassinating each other with great enthusiasm, with House Seradis and the Conclave on one side and the rest of the Great Houses on the other.

It had only ended after House Seradis’s—and thus the Conclave’s—control over the city was significantly diminished, and they were forced to give up their monarchical ambitions.

This period of history was something that Zareth had only really studied to help level up [Atavistic Apostle] and to understand a bit of how the Conclave lost control over Tal’Qamar. He hadn’t expected that Gurza had actually lived through it.

“Really? Did you know the Trade Princess personally? Do you know if it’s true that she was secretly a worshiper of Suhail and a puppet for the Conclave?” Zareth asked eagerly, his mind suddenly racing with questions. “How much Vitality do you have? I know ogres can live up to 200 years naturally, but you don’t look particularly old. What was it like to⁠—”

“We can either talk about my past, or I can help you with those skills of yours. Your choice,” Gurza interrupted, huffing in amusement at his enthusiasm. “I’ll answer your questions if you want since you’ve always had more curiosity than sense, and I know you’ll just keep askin’ until you get answers, but I have a feelin’ you don’t have all day to sit here and listen to an old woman’s tales.”

Zareth wanted to protest, but she wasn’t wrong. Even now, his flesh golem was currently flying invisibly over the Sunstone Heights and covertly watching the manor of House Khysar, waiting for Kassan to exit the building.

As soon as Zareth saw an opportunity to approach Kassan privately, he would need to act swiftly and decisively to capitalize on the moment. That was the reason why Vidhatri and Rizok were both currently accompanying him, so they could provide support at a moment’s notice.

Otherwise, he was sure that Vidhatri would still be busy comforting Rizok for his injuries.

“In that case, let’s focus on the skills,” Zareth said after taking a moment to rein in his rampant curiosity. “I can always come back later to ask about the rest.”

Gurza observed him briefly before nodding in approval. “Very well. It’s good to see that you don’t let the System overly influence your decisions. Though I wonder if that is due to your Willpower stat or for other reasons…”

Gurza’s voice drifted off as if she was lost in thought, while Zareth simply felt confused.

“What do you mean by ‘influence my decisions’? Are you one of those people who believe that the System is alive?” asked Zareth, his tone somewhat skeptical.

He wasn’t completely opposed to the suggestion, but it didn’t make all that much sense given that he knew the System to be an artificial construct made by the gods. Especially since the gods who created it were part of the faction most invested in preventing any mortals from achieving apotheosis without their consent.

He doubted that a group of beings who had fought a war to maintain their own authority would design the System in a way that allowed it to develop its own initiative if they could prevent it.

“I do not believe. I know. This is one thing in which the zealot and I agree,” Gurza said without the slightest hesitation or doubt. “It is difficult to notice for most people and folks don’t like to talk about it, but it becomes obvious to those of us who manage to achieve a high level.”

Feeling taken aback, Zareth turned a questioning gaze to Rizok for confirmation. He already knew Vidhatri’s opinion on the matter, so Rizok was the only one who he could ask.

Rizok looked momentarily uncomfortable before he offered an uncertain nod. “I wouldn’t describe it as ‘obvious,’ but I have noticed a certain… strangeness to the System as I level. It’s difficult to describe, but there are moments when it feels like the System presents me with choices that are a bit too perfect. And something about my class feels more intrinsic to who I am, like it’s not just a set of abilities but something deeper.”

“You’ll notice more of that after you achieve your second Class Evolution,” said Gurza, her tone unusually solemn. “Especially that last bit. Folks tend to become more and more consumed by their classes as they reach higher levels. I once had a friend who decided to become a [Strategist]. At a certain point, the poor bastard couldn’t help but see every interaction as a move in a grand game of strategy, planning three steps ahead even in casual conversations. Was one of the reasons why I decided to change my class. It would’ve ruined me.”

Something about Gurza sounded almost forlorn and nostalgic as she spoke. She certainly seemed to believe what she was saying, even if Zareth wasn’t so sure. While his immediate company might make it seem otherwise, it was only a very small portion of the population who ever achieved a second Class Evolution in their lifetime.

Any [Strategist] who managed to do so was likely to be a rather particular kind of person well-suited to their role. That same went for any high-level person, which could easily explain the behavior that Gurza described.

Still, it would be unwise for Zareth to dismiss it all as superstition.

“But what does that have to do with me? I’m still far away from reaching my second Class Evolution,” Zareth said skeptically, frowning slightly.

“Hmm. True enough,” said Gurza, even as she stared at him with an unreadable expression. Just as Zareth was beginning to feel uncomfortable and was about to ask what exactly she meant by her cryptic remark, she waved her hand dismissively and continued. “But enough of us gettin’ sidetracked. The point is that the girl’s not wrong to say that the System’s probably preparin’ you for a Ruler class. Which means that your choice here’ll be pivotal.”

If Gurza was trying to distract him from the previous topic, then she couldn’t have chosen a better way to do so.

“Really? How so?” Zareth asked eagerly, leaning forward in his seat. “I’ve tried my best to learn what I could about Ruler classes, but there’s barely any information out there.”

The vast majority of scholarly books on Valandor came from the Eldamir Empire, and their ruling family was extremely enthusiastic about censoring any information that could be detrimental to them. The details of Ruler classes were certainly included in the restricted topics. Zareth had tried using his contacts to source some books from Great Mu or from outside of the continent, but the former was far too isolationist while the latter ended up being impossible.

It turned out that the presence of a xenophobic and aggressive aquatic kingdom just off the coast made extra-continental trade rather difficult. Who could have guessed?

“Well… it’d probably be a good idea if you actually took the time to explain what skills you have and what goals you’re working toward. Don’t you think?” asked Gurza as she raised an eyebrow. “I don’t know what you think I can do, but readin’ minds ain’t somethin’ I’m known for.”

Zareth smiled sheepishly, realizing that he’d gotten a bit ahead of himself. After reconfirming that [Aura of Silence] was still active, Zareth took a few minutes to detail his current abilities and ambitions. It wasn’t something he’d normally do, but he’d known Gurza for most of his second life and trusted that she wouldn’t share anything she’d learned without his permission.

He didn’t keep anything back, even going so far as to detail the options that he’d largely dismissed and hadn’t given much mind, such as [Corrosive Bolt], [Minor Siphon Vitality], and [Deceptive Presence]. Thankfully, Gurza confirmed that he was right to dismiss those skill options, explaining that many people were often presented with numerous potential skills from the System that ultimately served no real purpose.

However, she was much less complimentary when he explained his Crowning skill and how he’d been using it. Or rather, how he hadn’t been.

“You… are aware that Crowning skills are almost always the most important of any given class, correct? Yet you claim that this [Atavistic Insight] has only granted you two visions since you acquired it?” Gurza asked incredulously before turning to face Vidhatri and Rizok. “Why haven’t you two done anything to fix this? He’s clearly been neglecting a crucial part of his skills.”

Rizok stopped staring at Vidhatri long enough to wince and look embarrassed. “You know how Zareth is. He… just tends to know how to do things that he shouldn’t.” He shrugged helplessly before continuing. “I suppose I just assumed he knows what he’s doing unless I’m given reason to believe otherwise.”

“The favor of the Weaver is miraculous in many ways,” Vidhatri said with unshakeable certainty, nodding in agreement.

Zareth hadn’t known they’d thought of him that way, but he supposed it made sense in retrospect. He very much doubted that he would have come as far as he did if not for his first life. To someone unaware of that crucial detail, it must seem incredibly odd for a random former [Street Urchin]—who had no formal education and who should barely be capable of reading—to achieve such prominence.

If not for all of the supernatural nonsense and unexplainable phenomenon that existed in this world, someone would have almost certainly called him out before now.

“Are you saying that [Atavistic Insight] should have granted me more visions by now?” asked Zareth as he reached toward the System to remind himself of the skill’s details.

Atavistic Insight – Grants the Apostle an intuitive proficiency in deciphering lost knowledge, along with visions that guide them to unearth hidden secrets.

“Hmm. Hard to say. I’ve done a lot of things in my life, but I’ve never had a class centered around learnin’ things like yours,” Gurza said uncertainly, tapping her fingers against the table. “If you can convince all those fancy rich friends of yours to find you one, I’d suggest speaking to a [System Scholar] about it. Seems a bit strange to me. Otherwise, you should try findin’ new ways to make use of it. A skill like that would be awfully useful for figurin’ out how to make use of the sort of old artifacts that Adventurers have a habit of bringin’ back from their travels. You should talk about it with folks from the Adventurer’s Guild.”

Zareth immediately sat up straight, feeling excited as his mind raced with possibilities. Gurza’s advice was good on both accounts. The first suggestion about consulting a [System Scholar]—a person who specialized in and had skills dedicated to helping people understand the intricacies of their classes—was something that he’d already considered.

Unfortunately, such specialists were exceedingly rare and were monopolized by the Great Houses as far as Tal’Qamar was concerned. Zareth already owed a bit too much to House Vhelan for him to feel comfortable, and adding another debt to the list was not an appealing prospect.

Cooperating with the Adventurer’s Guild to identify unknown artifacts, however, wasn’t something that he had thought of doing. If it worked out, then it would not only help him level faster and probably be very profitable if he struck a decent deal with the Adventurer’s Guild, but it would also serve as an opportunity to develop valuable relationships.

There was a good reason why the Adventurer’s Guild was able to operate in pretty much any nation across Valandor. Even if they were generally sworn to political neutrality, high-end Adventurers were exceedingly powerful and influential figures who made for useful allies.

It would be a good way to utilize his Crowning skill. If he was honest with himself, Zareth didn’t feel like he had used his rather unique class to its full potential. Sure, [Atavistic Apostle] was crucial to Cerebon’s future plans, but Zareth wanted to further his own ambitions as well.

“As for your Skill Evolutions. There’s no way to be certain, but I’d be willin’ to put good gold on bettin’ that the System will offer you a unique class based on which skill you pick,” Gurza continued, narrowing her eyes thoughtfully. “Each of them’ll likely set you on a different path. Like I told the zealot, I’d recommend against [Pious Leadership]. There are a lot of folks around here wary of deities thanks to the Conclave who like your cult because you and your god are flexible. But it’s your choice in the end. Everyone who reaches a certain level eventually learns that they need to specialize to truly excel. If you want to be anythin’ special, you should start thinkin’ now about what kind of leader you want to be.”

Zareth fell into a thoughtful silence as he considered Gurza’s question.

What kind of leader did he want to be?

Between Jabal-Alma and the yet-to-be-named city constructed by the Hierophant’s Council, he would very soon be responsible for the well-being of a truly large number of people. Sure, Jabal-Alma could be governed by an intermediary, and it was doubtful that he would be the sole authority in the unnamed city, but Zareth wasn’t one to take his responsibilities lightly. He’d seen and intimately experienced the life of a person abandoned by those who were supposed to care for them.

He would rather throw himself into a nest of System Spawn than subject someone to the same fate. Zareth was far from a saint, but he didn’t think he could look himself in the mirror if he didn’t do his best when it came to this matter.

But how exactly he went about it was the crucial detail…

Could he see himself as someone who dedicated his life to guiding people to Cerebon? The idea wasn’t as disagreeable as it would have been before he’d actually gotten to know the god and understood his motivations. And his precepts were hardly something he would feel shame about spreading.

But his recent actions had been far more about practical politics and strategic alliances than anything related to divine guidance.

When Zareth asked himself what kind of leader he wanted to be, the truth of the matter was that he truly wasn’t certain. But fortunately, he still had time to consider the matter and didn’t have to do so alone.

Just as he was about to ask Rizok for his opinion, Zareth suddenly froze as something caught his attention.

“Rizok, Vidhatri. We have to move now,” Zareth said with urgency, already rising from his seat. “My flesh golem just spotted Kassan leaving House Khysar’s manor. He appears to be headed in the direction of his personal residence, so it’s now or never.”

Zareth was immediately met with enthusiastic cheers from Vidhatri, eager to punish the enemies of Cerebon, while Rizok, with a lazy yet affirmative nod, stood up and gripped the hilt of his sword. He offered Gurza an apologetic smile, but she merely waved him off dismissively and began making her way to the kitchen.

Zareth wished he had more time to discuss his skills with her, but he firmly pushed those thoughts aside, focusing on the task at hand. As he left the bakery, steely determination rose up within him.

House Khysar and the Circle of Ghisara were undoubtedly behind the assassination attempt on his way to Jabal-Alma. Although he had survived, that event felt like an utter failure as he realized that several soldiers had sacrificed their lives to protect him.

Zareth hadn’t forgotten this for a single moment, even if he’d been forced to swallow his pride as he hadn’t had any real means of retaliating against them.

But that was then, and this was now.

Now, the Cult of Cerebon had friends and allies who were more than willing to offer a helping hand. The consequences of this were not something that Kassan or House Khysar would enjoy.

Eyes closed, legs crossed beneath her, and tail wrapped soothingly around her waist, Kinta hummed softly as she allowed Serenity to engulf her, centering herself in preparation for the task ahead.

Unlike most deities, the Serene One walked perpetually with those who offered her their service, her constant whispers a source of comfort and guidance in a world teeming with chaos. Most people needed restrictive skills such as [Divine Link] or specialized artifacts to speak with their gods, but the Order of the Serene Path had no such barriers.

Many of their detractors, those unfortunate, short-sighted souls, often claimed that this was no great advantage, as the Serene One never communicated as clearly or as directly as other deities. There were some self-righteous [Theologians] who questioned if she was even a divine being at all, but Kinta knew in the very depths of her soul that the Serene One was the brightest light in this dark world.

She hadn’t always felt this way, but she was fortunate enough to have been enlightened to the truth. And today, she would have the great honor of doing the same for another lost soul.

Kinta allowed the soothing hymns of her brothers and sisters to wash over her as their voices bounced off the sandstone walls of the small meditation chamber. While it was far inferior to the sprawling monastery that she had been raised and trained in as a new Initiate, the spire gifted to them by the Tal’Qamari government was quite satisfactory. The Divine Essence left behind by the Conclave had long since been converted to the Order’s purposes, and the entire structure was a bastion where new [Acolytes] could learn without the slightest disturbance.

Well, with the notable exception of the [Poison-Master Assassin] whose mental despair was resounding through the spire, but everyone understood that this was merely a temporary bother.

Serenity would be re-established as soon as the [Rite of Absolution] was completed.

Kinta was deep into her meditation when she felt a mental presence brush against her mind, gently but firmly seeking her attention. She wouldn’t normally accept such an intrusion, but the individual who approached her was not someone who she would ever dare to disrespect.

“What beautiful hymns, Adept Kinta. The [Getsuls] and [Getsulmas] of this temple are learning well. You should be proud.”

Their voice was echoing and hollow, like the gentle whisper of wind through a forest, yet it carried a weight of authority that demanded respect. Kinta opened her eyes and immediately bowed her head in reverence, recognizing the presence of the revered Elder sent from Great Mu to oversee Tal’Qamar’s burgeoning chapter of the Order.

Mycelids were not a race that often left Great Mu, so much so that few outside of Valandor were even aware that they existed. Even within the continent, many could go their entire lives without seeing one of the rare fungoid people who ruled over their infamously isolationist nation.

Kinta found that to be a shame, as she’d always found Mycelids to be endlessly fascinating.

The honorable Abbot Lhamo stood before Kinta, a mushroom-like figure with a broad, parasol-shaped cap shading their face. The cap was adorned with bioluminescent fungi that emitted a soft, ethereal glow.

His face was smooth and featureless, except for two deep, dark eyes that conveyed ancient wisdom. Vines and tendrils hung from beneath the cap, decorated with small, glittering beads and natural trinkets that swayed with each movement. He wore robes made of woven fibers and natural elements, blending seamlessly with his lithe form as slender, root-like fingers twined together in front of him.

Abbot Lhamo’s sheer presence exuded a sense of calm and authority that made Kinta feel both reassured and awed, as if she was once again a new Initiate running through the halls of the Order’s main monastery.

“I am grateful for your words, Venerable One,” said Kinta, hurriedly standing and bowing again to her superior. “But I must confess that few of them hold such classes. Local culture led to the System offering the majority of them the [Acolyte] class instead. I am shamed by my failure.”

Abbot Lhamo’s response was sedate and measured. “That is disappointing, but it is no failure of yours. It is often the spore that travels the longest that finds the most fertile soil. Destiny chose you to lead our efforts outside of Great Mu for good reason, Adept Kinta. So long as you hold trust in the Serene One to guide your path, you will find your way, and so will they.”

“As you say, Venerable One. I thank you for your wisdom,” Kinta said, feeling relief wash over her. She’d been worried when she had been informed that the Order was taking greater interest in Tal’Qamar and would be sending one of their esteemed Elders to oversee the chapter’s activities.

She knew that the Order’s expansion wasn’t a proposition that had been considered with much favor in the beginning. Kinta had merely been traveling the lands outside of Great Mu as a form of spiritual pilgrimage when Tal’Qamar’s previous government was excised from the city, and their successors had offered her Order permission to establish themselves in the city.

Perhaps the locals believed doing so would allow for stronger ties with Great Mu, or they might simply have been that desperate for any gods to replace the ones they’d chased away. Regardless, the Order’s Venerable Elders had deemed it a worthwhile endeavor and accepted Tal’Qamar’s offer, albeit with only moderate interest.

But that had apparently changed with recent developments. The Venerable Elders were seemingly much more invested in Tal’Qamar now than they had been just a few months ago.

Kinta suspected that their interest would only grow stronger once the most recent reports detailing the past week’s developments reached them. Abbot Lhamo had certainly seemed keen to learn about the events unfolding in Tal’Qamar.

“Good. Now, I apologize for interrupting your meditation, but I’ve been informed that it’s time I carry out the [Rite of Absolution], and I wish you to bear witness,” Abbot Lhamo said calmly, gesturing for her to follow as he slowly made his way to the meditation room’s exit. “I know that you’ve performed the Rite yourself on several criminals during your time in this city, but Khasim Dhari is admittedly quite high-leveled. He possesses several skills to protect his mind, so I believe that there is value in you watching and learning from my technique.”

“Of course, Venerable One. I would be honored to do so,” Kinta said genuinely as the two of them descended the spire’s winding stairs. They’d placed the prisoner in the convenient underground cells that the Conclave had chosen to build beneath the structure.

As they descended into the basement, the air grew cooler, and the dim lighting cast long shadows on the stone walls. The underground cells were a stark contrast to the serene meditation chamber above. Each cell was warded and reinforced to contain even the most powerful prisoners.

They approached the cell where Kasim Dhari was being held. The assassin was shackled to the wall, his eyes gleaming with defiance and hatred as he saw Kinta and Abbot Lhamo approaching. But despite this, the only thing that his mind radiated was utter fear.

Not too surprising given how much effort had been taken to make his mind… malleable for the upcoming Rite.

“You think you can break me, you fungal freaks?” Kasim spat, his voice filled with venom. “I’ve faced worse than you.”

Abbot Lhamo remained serene, his gaze calm and steady as he stepped into the cell. “Your defiance is expected, Kasim Dhari. But the Serene One’s light will cleanse your soul. You will find peace, whether you wish it or not.”

Kasim Dhari began to thrash and struggle against his restraints as Abbot Lhamo approached, but he was helpless to stop the inevitable. Kinta watched as the abbot placed his fingers against Kasim’s temple and began to pray softly.

If Kinta were only observing with her more mundane senses, then very little happened over the next few minutes other than Kasim screaming ever more loudly and incoherently. But as someone who could sense the intricate mental manipulations that the abbot was performing, Kinta became more and more awe-struck with every passing moment.

Like a high-level [Seamstress] creating an intricate tapestry, Abbot Lhamo carefully and delicately used the Serene One’s gifts to adjust and weave the threads of Kasim’s mind. With every passing moment, aggression, selfishness, and sadism were slowly unraveled and replaced with kindness, selflessness, and Serenity.

Kinta would have never been able to accomplish such a task forcefully against an individual like Kasim, who almost certainly possessed a high Willpower stat and several mental defense skills. Meanwhile, Abbot Lhamo showed no signs of strain as he performed the task, relying solely on the mind-altering spores wafting from his body, a natural ability of all Mycelids, to weaken Kasim’s mind.

It was truly impressive.

Kinta couldn’t help but wish that she had been fortunate enough to be attended to by such a powerful servant of the Serene One when she herself had undergone the Rite of Absolution. It would have made her early induction into the Order far smoother than it had been.

Eventually, Kasim’s screams and desperate thrashing subsided into a quiet whimper, then silence, and then loud sobbing.

This was always the most bittersweet moment of the Rite, when the subject was forced to view their old crimes from the context of their newly cleansed minds, despair for their past actions, and begin the path to their redemption. Kasim’s sobs echoed through the cell, filled with the weight of his newfound remorse as he begged the Serene One for forgiveness.

And in her boundless compassion, she was ever quick to grant it.

Kinta felt exultation as the Serene One’s grace washed over the once cruel man.

His eyes, once filled with defiance and hatred, now stared blankly ahead, the light of his former self extinguished. Abbot Lhamo withdrew his fingers from Kasim’s temple, his expression serene and calm.

“It is done,” Abbot Lhamo said softly, his voice carrying the weight of finality as he leaned forward and embraced the new initiate with compassion. “You are now free from your past sins and have embraced the path of Serenity. Welcome, brother. Your life will now serve a greater purpose. One in which you help the people of this world, rather than spread harm.”

“Y-Yes. You’re right. By the gods. What have I done?” Kasim whispered, tears streaming down his face.

“Nothing that you haven’t already been forgiven for, Initiate,” Abbot Lhamo said kindly, his long fingers running through Kasim’s hair in a gesture of comfort. “Though it is not the gods who you should be invoking. It is the Serene One whose grace has cleansed your soul and offered you this new beginning. Focus on the path ahead, and leave the past behind. You will have ample opportunities to find your redemption.”

“Yes. Of course. I can feel her presence inside of me. Her compassion and expectations,” Kasim said with open awe that gradually shifted into determination as he focused on Abbot Lhamo. “I’ll do anything to make up for what I’ve done. Please guide me! I beg you!”

That was an unsurprising sentiment from someone so newly inducted into the Order. Kinta waited for Abbot Lhamo to respond to the man’s plea, only to be surprised when she saw the Mycelid’s featureless visage looking back at her. It took embarrassingly long for Kinta to realize that the abbot was directing her to handle the next steps.

Under normal circumstances, a new Initiate like Kasim would be assigned to a mentor for guidance and training, ensuring that their transition into the Order was smooth and their newfound perspective firmly established. Someone like Kasim, whose past actions were among the more vile of those chosen to undergo the Rites, would likely not be allowed out of the monastery for nearly a year.

But these weren’t normal circumstances. Kasim had been chosen to undergo the Rite of Absolution for reasons unrelated to cleansing his soul from corruption, so rules would have to be bent.

Kinta did not like the Rite being weaponized in such a way, but she recognized that Tal’Qamar was not Great Mu and that compromises needed to be made if the Order was to fully establish itself in these foreign lands.

At least for now.

“There is something that you can do to atone for some of your past crimes, Initiate Dhari,” Kinta began, her voice firm and filled with conviction. “That is, if you are willing to strike a blow against your previous employers and prove your loyalty to the Serene One.”

Kasim’s response was as predictable as it was gratifying.

Chapter 20

There were times that Kassan genuinely despised the short-sighted fools he was forced to work for.

While few in number, the Circle of Ghisara was very well connected and had a long history of collaboration with the Great Houses. Few still remembered, but there had even once been a time when the Goddess of Oracles and Mysteries held unparalleled influence among the naga.

Unfortunately, the Circle of Ghisara hadn’t held such power since the days when Kassan’s people still lived in the wetlands of Arzuma and migrated to this torturous desert. If that wasn’t the case, then Kassan would have never lowered himself to acting at the behest of incompetents who had never faced a day of genuine adversity in their lives.

Perhaps the time has come for us to change our allegiance to a different Great House, Kassan mused to himself as he slithered away from House Khrysar’s manor.

Matriarch Sylthana had never been an easy woman to serve, but she was generally wise enough to heed the advice of the person capable of seeing the future. So, their relationship had historically been quite amiable. However, recent… less-than-effective performance on Kassan’s part had resulted in Sylthana addressing him without the respect he deserved.

Why was it his fault that the woman had obsessively focused herself on Lady Marilith and then decided to blame Kassan because he was unable to divine House Vhelan’s plans?

They were a Great House! Did Sylthana believe that her peers had spontaneously forgotten that the Circle of Ghisara existed and hadn’t developed defenses against his Sight? Kassan had enough troubles of his own without idiots holding him to ridiculous expectations.

The matriarch was utterly convinced that Lady Marilith and General Nasrith were engaged in some manner of conspiracy, and she was growing more paranoid by the day. Specifically, she believed that Nasrith intended to place his own subordinates as administrators of the recently conquered territories and give them representation on the Oversight Commission. This would grant him a reliable voting block and solidify his rule, which was one of the reasons why Sylthana fought so hard to lay claim to Tal’Hadin.

Kassan’s instincts told him that she was likely correct, even if the exact details of the general’s plans may be something different. This was especially the case since Sylthana herself was involved in a conspiracy to transform Nasrith into a puppet ruler and formally “delegate” all the administrative rule to the Great Houses while he was away at war.

It only made sense to assume that one’s political enemies were just as scheming as you were.

However, finding evidence of this was proving surprisingly difficult. It didn’t help that Kassan had somehow lost contact with the liaison from his favored Assassins Guild and thus didn’t have full access to his more mundane means of gathering information.

The Echoes of Jelt were quite adept in clandestine activities that didn’t involve slitting throats, so it was poor timing that communication with them had abruptly ceased.

Or maybe it’s not poor timing at all…

A soft hiss left Kassan’s lips as the suspicion began to take root. Suddenly feeling strangely discomforted, Kassan made his way to his residence on the southern edge of the Sunstone Heights as quickly as propriety would allow. His home was large enough that the vast majority of Tal’Qamar’s residents would consider it a veritable palace, but to Kassan, it was an embarrassment when compared to the grandeur of the Great Houses and the more wealthy naga families.

And even this was something he’d only gained through a marriage of convenience. Pathetic.

Kassan ruthlessly pushed down the familiar embers of bitter inadequacy as he entered his residence, the wards lowering and the door opening automatically at his approach.

“Master Kassan! Welcome home. Is there anyth⁠—”

“Send the [Majordomo] to my study immediately with a platter of Bogshadows and a bowl of Dreamleaf. Now.”

The lizardkin [Servant] whose name he hardly remembered was wise enough to cut off his greeting and leave to follow his orders without comment, likely sensing that Kassan was in a poor mood. Kassan was appreciative of many of the luxuries he’d acquired from the Vhysara family, but their well-trained [Servants] were among the most useful of them all.

It felt good to finally have subordinates who carried out his orders without talking back, especially now that the rest of the family had been imprisoned for treason.

It almost made him want to give that human boy a gift for getting them all arrested. But decorum demanded that Kassan pretend he cared about the Vhysara family’s downfall, even if he would have arranged it himself, if not for the suspicion that would have fallen on him.

Kassan moved swiftly through the familiar corridors of the Vhysara family’s ancestral manor, its halls unusually empty given that he’d dismissed all but the most essential staff after becoming the de facto master of the house. The eerie silence that now pervaded the once-vibrant manor suited him just fine, allowing him the solitude he needed to think and plan.

It didn’t take long before he arrived at his private study, a room so heavily shrouded with defensive wards that even House Kavasa would be impressed by the magic woven into its walls. Kassan entered, feeling the familiar pulse of the wards recognizing him as their master, before he took a moment to look around and appreciate the fruits of his labor.

The room was filled to the brim with arcane wonders, the majority of them designed to enhance precognition and other forms of divination. Shelves lined the walls, filled with tomes and scrolls that radiated Ether, each of them containing lost mysteries that the Circle of Ghisara had meticulously gathered over the centuries. The sheer value of Kassan’s collection would be enough to bring down a calamity on his head if anyone were to discover its true extent.

Fortunately, the majority of his treasures had been taken from vanquished rivals as he’d risen through the ranks of the Circle to become its leader. And no matter how many of his peers might wish to see him fail, none of them would dare to go against their Goddess and reveal the Circle’s secrets to outsiders.

Kassan took in a deep breath and let out a groan of satisfaction as the magical aura of his treasures washed against his skin and scales. There were few things which soothed him more than being surrounded by the evidence of his efforts. While he lacked the absurd wealth of the Great Houses, this room was proof that Kassan was far from the impoverished scion of a disgraced lineage that he had once been.

Now, he was a force to be reckoned with, and the Circle of Ghisara—one of the oldest organizations in Tal’Qamar’s history—was his to command. And there would come a day when even the Great Houses would come to fear and revere him in equal measure.

It was his destiny.

Feeling much more calm and reassured than he had previously, Kassan made his way over to the divan placed against the far wall of his study and languidly stretched his long tail along its length. The enchantments on the divan rendered it almost sinfully comfortable, tempting Kassan to spend the entire day lounging in his study.

Alas, the subtle thrumming of his [Premonition of Conflict] had been steadily growing stronger over the past week and felt like it would culminate within the next hour or so. Kassan could sense that whatever was about to happen only had a small chance of becoming violent but nonetheless threatened to upend many of his plans.

Therefore, he sincerely doubted that he would be allowed to rest any time soon.

Kassan didn’t have long to think over the matter before his [Majordomo], an elderly lizardkin by the name of Veska, quietly stepped into his study. Behind her floated a platter of pitch-black toads, jumping restlessly beneath a magical barrier, alongside a bowl of finely ground leaves.

“One platter of Bogshadows as requested, sir,” Veska said, her voice composed as ever as she directed the enchanted platter to land on a low table beside the divan. “Along with a serving of Dreamleaf.”

Kassan nodded in satisfaction as Veska set down the bowl of vision-enhancing drugs and the Eldamiri smoking pipe that he used for such occasions. But he preferred not to make use of Ghisara’s gifts on an empty stomach, so Kassan reached through the one-direction barrier around the platter and caught one of the leaping amphibians from mid-air.

Kassan paused to enjoy watching the creature wriggle in his grasp before unhinging his jaw and swallowing the Bogshadow whole.

Most of his peers would find such an act utterly disgusting and uncivilized, but Kassan relished indulging the primal instincts that came with being a naga. His people had lost much of what once made them superior during the Great Migration, and he didn’t want to join them by allowing his hunter instincts to wither away.

“Do you require anything else before I share the day’s news, sir? I have compiled a list of visions from the Circle’s [Augurs] ready for you to review at your convenience,” Veska said professionally as a stack of documents suddenly appeared in her hands via [Summon Essentials]. “In addition, my [Well-Informed Management] indicates that you will be receiving a few important guests within the next 20 minutes. I’ve already directed your [Servants] to prepare the parlor to receive them.”

Oh Veska. What would I do without you?

Aside from her sheer competence, his [Majordomo] was one of the only people in the world who Kassan truly trusted. She’d been by his side ever since his family had fallen from grace, serving him with loyalty and fidelity regardless of the circumstances.

While they had somehow never been able to gather definitive evidence, the Circle of Ghisara had noticed many signs over the years that even some of the most trusted kesh’sisk betrayed their masters and traded information among one another. The Great Houses hardly paid them any attention because naga often looked down upon Tal’Qamar’s lizardkin population as insignificant, seeing them as little more than a conquered people best used as convenient labor.

Veska, on the other hand, had never given Kassan a single reason to doubt her loyalty.

And he had checked. A lot. After all, Kassan’s [Majordomo] should be above reproach.

“Your service is as impeccable as always,” Kassan said with genuine appreciation as he accepted the documents from Veska and began to skim through them indifferently. The [Augurs] rarely saw anything that he himself didn’t first perceive, and they were wise enough to bring it to him immediately if it was sufficiently important rather than write a report.

Sure enough, most of the documents either detailed minor shifts in power scarcely worth the attention or matters about which he was already well aware.

Let’s see. House Vhelan is feuding heavily with House Zarqet over trading routes into Eldamir? Interesting, but not particularly relevant at this point.

House Seradis managed to reassert control over the Merchant’s Guild? Well, that certainly took them longer than expected. Losing Merchant Lord Raqasor hurt them far more than expected. Something to keep an eye on.

The Desharin and the ogres are starting to spend some of their ancestral savings on… building materials and miscellaneous supplies? That’s… extremely concerning. Just what is that Hierophant’s Council up to?

“Hmm. There doesn’t seem to be anything which demands my immediate attention,” said Kassan once he finished reading through the reports, placing them down and filling his pipe with a few pinches of Dreamleaf. “Though I will have to instruct the Circle to turn its attention to my ‘peers’ once this meeting is over. Has there been any news regarding my wife?”

“Arrived in Old Arbasel as expected, sir.” Veska said dispassionately. “She is… displeased, but resigned to her fate.”

Good. That’s one less problem that I need to concern myself with…

Kassan had considered getting rid of his wife after the Vhysara family was arrested as the woman was no longer necessary to his plans, but she’d wisely agreed to receive a generous allowance and live in a manor far away from Tal’Qamar. He’d still need to use his divination to look in on her activities every once in a while, as any self-respecting naga would feel absolutely livid after having their family wealth ripped from their grasp.

But for now, handling the matter in a more permanent fashion would cause more problems than it would solve.

“Very well. If there’s nothing else, then I suppose I’ll investigate these ‘important guests’ who’ve decided to grace us with their presence,” Kassan said, inhaling deeply from his pipe, the Dreamleaf filling his lungs with a calming, ethereal sensation.

Activating [Diviner’s Gaze] became much easier as the drug’s effect took hold, and it only took a few moments for him to sort through the visions, revealing the identities of the people with whom he’d soon be meeting. Once he did, it immediately became clear to him that this same part was responsible for setting off his [Premonition of Conflict].

Hmm. How interesting. Now what business do you have with me, little human? Kassan wondered curiously as he sifted through images of Apostle Zareth knocking on the door of his manor in the near future.

The human was accompanied by the soldier assigned to watch over him by High Command and the lunatic shivarath who had torn apart half of the [Assassins] Kassan had sent to attack the human several months ago. The Echoes of Jelt had been quite upset with him due to the unexpected number of casualties they’d sustained during that little debacle, and it’d cost him an extra sack of gold to soothe their tempers.

Shifting rapidly through the potential outcomes of this meeting, Kassan quickly reconfirmed that it was unlikely to end in violence despite the presence of the formidable combatants at Zareth’s side.

Then, is the human bringing them in an attempt to intimidate me? How adorably naive. Kassan thought disdainfully.

Feeling reassured, Kassan turned his focus to discerning the actual reasons for the visit. Unfortunately, the precognition offered to him by Ghisara suffered from the same restrictions that all divinations did. Chiefly that the quality of the visions could be diminished through a variety of factors, such as the vagueness of the question, the familiarity of the Seer with the matter at hand, and any protections that might be in place to obscure the future.

Although Kassan had focused on acquiring specific knowledge and had kept a reasonably close watch on Zareth and his activities, it was that last factor which was causing complications.

Something extremely important happened very recently. Likely within the past hour, Kassan realized with growing concern as he studied the increasingly vague images of the future. Worse yet, it must be divine in nature and is purposely being kept from my sight…

Given that his power came from the Goddess of Oracles herself, there were very few things that could obscure the future from Kassan. But anything involving the invocation of divine power couldn’t be scried until it actually happened, and a determined deity could hide their actions from Ghisara for a decent amount of time—though not permanently.

Kassan would almost certainly be able to foresee what Zareth was planning in due time, but not before the human and his companions arrived on his doorstep.

Well planned…

Kassan could tell that their discussion would be acrimonious and that the human intended to confront him with something significant, but little else. His mind racing, Kassan quickly decided that this must somehow be related to the God of Flesh’s scheme to create a pantheon similar to the Conclave. Ghisara had informed him that she’d been approached with such an offer and had responded with ambivalence, but she also cautioned Kassan that the God of Flesh would not be easily deterred.

It hadn’t escaped Kassan’s notice that the rest of the Hierophant’s Council had begun meeting in secret without him, so it was clear that something significant was brewing behind closed doors. House Khrysar’s spies and Kassan’s own scrying had also confirmed that General Nasrith was colluding with the Cult of Cerebon to help push his own agenda—most likely by securing another seat on the Oversight Commission.

However, the exact details eluded him.

All of this flashed through Kassan’s mind in a matter of seconds, his experience with political scheming allowing him to immediately reach the most likely conclusion without missing a beat.

“Veska. Be ready to meet our guests upon their arrival and escort them to the parlor,” Kassan ordered calmly after a moment of deliberation. “Tell the [Servants] to prepare a meal for a lizardkin, a human, and a shivarath. Inform our guests that I will join them in a few minutes.”

Even if he didn’t know what the human wanted, Kassan was confident in his ability to control the situation. Veska was very acquainted with his tactics and would do her best to put Zareth off balance, making it seem as if the human and his companions were expected well in advance. The reputation of the Circle rested heavily on the illusion that they already knew everything before it happened, a facade that Kassan knew how to exploit.

“Yes, sir. It will be done,” Veska replied with a slight bow before swiftly exiting the study to carry out his orders.

Kassan spent the next few minutes planning his approach to the upcoming conversation with Zareth, a multitude of futures flashing through his mind as the human arrived at his manor and was dutifully led by Veska to the parlor. An enchanted mirror on the far side of his study allowed Kassan to track everything that happened within his manor, and he used it to scrutinize Zareth and his companions.

The human’s body language seemed extremely self-assured, almost smugly so. Zareth was clearly very confident in whatever leverage he believed he held over Kassan.

A fact which infuriated him.

There were few things that Kassan despised more than being looked down upon. A part of him wished dearly that he could activate one of the many deadly traps carefully placed throughout his home.

His mood only grew worse after [Diviner’s Gaze] revealed that the shivarath and the human would survive such an attempt anyway.

I’ll need to find a proper way to kill someone with such powerful regeneration. I have a strong feeling that I’ll one day need it…

Kassan allowed his irritation to simmer for a few minutes as his guests waited in the parlor. Once enough time had passed for Zareth and his companions to be put off balance, Kassan composed himself before slithering out his study.

When he entered the parlor, it was to the scene of Zareth sitting comfortably on one of the ornate couches, his hands folded neatly in his lap. The soldier assigned to watch over him stood at attention behind him, a silent sentinel with a gaze that snapped to Kassan the very moment he entered the room. The foreign shivarath stood at his side with predatory grace, her too many eyes examining Kassan before dismissively shifting away as if finding nothing of immediate interest.

Such disrespect made Kassan want to loudly hiss at the shivarath before burying his fangs in her neck, but he instead put on his slyest smile and turned his attention to the only one in the group who actually mattered.

“Greetings, Apostle Zareth. Welcome to my home. I’m so grateful that you’ve spared some of your time to visit,” Kassan said affably, acting as if this was a planned meeting between two old friends rather than a confrontation between two people who’d smile if they saw the other dead. “I do hope that you’ve found the accommodations to your liking. I instructed my [Servants] to ensure that you and your companions were well taken care of.”

A quick glance revealed that his [Cooks] had prepared a mixed platter of roasted Tal’Hadin-sourced insects for the lizardkin, some manner of large, exotic-looking fish for the shivarath, and an expensive serving of braised Eldamiri lamb topped with local desert herbs for the human.

Kassan sincerely doubted that any of his guests would appreciate the exquisite meal in front of them given that their trio was composed of an overly ambitious gutter trash, a lizardkin soldier who wouldn’t know fine cuisine if it bit off his tail, and a foreign savage. But it was pleasing for Kassan to see that his [Cooks] could be relied upon if they needed to provide delicacies for any guests who actually mattered.

Though Kassan had to admit that the gutter trash in question managed to muster an adequate facade of cordiality as he smiled politely before replying. “Your hospitality is appreciated, Priest Kassan. It’s nearly as impressive as the meals I experienced when visiting Lady Marilith. You and your family must be quite proud to have such capable attendants.”

Kassan’s smile sharpened at the human’s words and the no doubt intentional insult they contained. To both directly compare his manor to one of the Great Houses and mention the family that Zareth himself had helped imprison was bold.

A proper naga would have found a way to insult Kassan with far more subtlety, but Zareth’s response was passably clever for someone of his stock.

Perhaps this conversation would be more amusing than anticipated.

“Quite,” Kassan said simply as he settled himself into a couch opposite Zareth, his long tail stretching out in the human’s direction. The subtle stiffening of the lizardkin made it clear that he recognized how easy it would be for Kassan’s tail to wrap itself around the human’s neck before anyone could react if he chose to do so.

The reaction filled Kassan with satisfaction, but he kept his expression neutral, almost bored, as he continued. “I’ve heard news that you and the rest of our peers have been growing quite close lately, to the point that Priestess Farida has been visiting you alone in your spire. It’s certainly wonderful for Tal’Qamar’s faiths to be so… cooperative. I’ve no doubt that this development will be well received by all.”

That was so obviously a lie that Kassan only barely held back a smirk. Hardly anyone among Tal’Qamar’s upper class would be pleased with a newly formed pantheon in the city given what had happened with the Conclave. Even if the Hierophant’s Council lacked the means to truly threaten the Great Houses’ authority, they would be looked upon with immense suspicion.

This was one of the reasons why Kassan didn’t want the Circle of Ghisara to join their motley little group, among others.

“Thank you for your kind words. Though I do wonder why you seem uninterested in joining us if you’re so approving of our endeavors,” Zareth replied smoothly, with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “Perhaps you could explain why the Circle of Ghisara prefers to remain uninvolved.”

Hmph. The human has no patience for pleasantries. How disappointing.

“Straight to the point, I see,” Kassan said, his tone cool and measured. “While I do admire your… optimism, both I and my Goddess believe that our interests are better served elsewhere. The Circle of Ghisara has many valuable connections that it would lose if it chose to align itself with you and the rest of your group. I’m sure you understand.”

He wasn’t actually certain that the human truly understood anything about Tal’Qamar’s delicate web of alliances and enmities, but Kassan wasn’t so impolite as to say so out loud.

“Ah, I understand now. If your choices are driven solely by self-interest, then your reasoning does make sense,” Zareth replied, nodding in understanding even as his gaze turned sharp. “Though I do wonder if your Goddess has the same priorities as you do. After all, my god approached her about matters far more important than Tal’Qamar’s politics. Does that not concern you at all? Or… perhaps Ghisara did not feel the need to share that with you?”

Kassan’s smile had already disappeared by the time Zareth finished speaking. It was clear to him that the human was fishing for information, attempting to determine what Kassan did and didn’t know regarding his god’s desire to form a new pantheon.

But the very fact that Zareth was probing him like this implied that he knew secrets that he shouldn’t.

Ghisara told me that the other gods wouldn’t dare to risk the ire of the major pantheons by sharing such information with their followers. He must be bluffing.

“I’m not quite certain what you’re talking about,” Kassan said evenly, forcing himself to remain calm as he locked eyes with the human. “Could you elaborate a little so that I can understand?”

Much to Kassan’s dismay, any hopes that Zareth was simply bluffing disappeared when the human smirked and said two damning words.

“System War.”

Kassan felt himself become completely still, his naga instincts compelling his body to cease all movements as shock surged through him.

The System War and all of the events surrounding it was a topic that none but the highest-ranking servants of the gods should be aware of. And even then, there were even a few deities born after the System War’s conclusion who weren’t privy to all its details. This secrecy was strictly enforced by the world’s ruling pantheons and the [Inquisitors] of Harpocrate, the Silent Judge.

Kassan forced down a shudder at the thought of the images Ghisara had shown him of what happened to those discovered to possess knowledge that the gods didn’t want spread among mortals. He’d seen and done too much to be easily frightened by most things, but those visions still sometimes caused him to wake up in a cold sweat.

Kassan momentarily wondered if the Silent Judge’s servants were already making their way to Tal’Qamar, but he quickly dismissed the thought. The God of Flesh would have never shared such knowledge without having a way to shield Zareth from divine wrath.

Kassan’s gaze flitted between the lizardkin and the foreign savage, wondering at what the two of them knew. He sincerely doubted that the human’s companions were as protected by the God of Flesh as Zareth. “You should be careful about what you say, human. I’m not sure your little cult can handle the consequences if certain people were to learn that you’re speaking of things best left buried.”

“Ah, it looks like I’ve struck a nerve,” said Zareth, unbearably smug. “Somehow, I have a feeling that the Circle of Ghisara wouldn’t want those ‘certain people’ anywhere near Tal’Qamar either. Am I wrong?”

No. He wasn’t. Every single member of the Circle would almost certainly be hunted down like animals if the wrong people looked too closely into them.

“I can tell from your expression that I was correct,” Zareth said after a pause, his voice dripping with satisfaction as he leaned forward in his seat. “I think the Cult of Cerebon and the Circle of Ghisara would both benefit from mutual cooperation. Especially considering how… difficult things could become for the both of us if we were at odds, given that we pursue similar goals.”

Similar goals? Kassan wasn’t quite certain how true that was.

If the Cult of Cerebon was aware of the true nature of the System and the control which the gods have over it, then it was indeed possible—and maybe even likely—that their deities had reached similar conclusions. It was safe to assume that if Zareth was speaking of the System War, then the God of Flesh wished to seize some of the ruling pantheon’s claim of the System for their own ends.

That was the natural conclusion that any self-respecting person with the slightest hint of ambition would reach after learning that the System was an artificial construct capable of being manipulated. However, the truth of the matter was that Ghisara had aspirations for the System that Kassan suspected most deities would find deeply concerning.

As for Kassan’s own goals? Well, that was better left unsaid.

So no, he didn’t believe that the Cult of Cerebon and the Circle of Ghisara had the same end in mind… but the path was likely similar. The God of Flesh, and by extension his emerging pantheon, would undoubtedly seek to seize control of Valandor’s leyline nexus. Given that such locations were where the divine realms most easily reached through the Etherveil to touch the material world, the world’s leyline nexuses were the best points from which to exert influence over the System itself.

As such, the God of Flesh likely saw this war against the Conclave as a fortuitous opportunity that he couldn’t afford to let go to waste.

But Kassan didn’t believe in fortune. He believed in meticulously considered strategies, and the Cult of Cerebon was quickly becoming an uncontrollable variable in the Circle’s carefully orchestrated plans.

And that he wouldn’t abide.

“If that is all that you came here to say, then I believe it’s time for you to leave,” Kassan said, his voice icy as he dropped all pretense of cordiality. “The Circle of Ghisara has no intention of siding with a weak, desperate faction like the Hierophant’s Council and abandoning centuries-old ties with some of the most influential parties in Tal’Qamar. That you would even believe we would consider otherwise is simple proof that someone like you has no place in these sorts of matters. I suggest that you leave such things to your betters.”

Kassan would normally not be so direct with his true feelings, but the human had been staring at him with utter disdain and animosity from the very second he entered the room. He didn’t see any reason to continue pretending at diplomacy with this uncouth street rat.

But far from getting angry as Kassan had expected from the human when faced with such a dismissal, Zareth’s smile only grew wider as something dark and ominous flickered in his eyes.

“Oh? Are you certain that I can’t change your mind, Priest Kassan? I believe that it would be in your best interests to… reconsider.”

If Zareth’s tone hadn’t made it obvious, the expectant looks on the soldier and the savage would have given away that the human was about to reveal whatever advantage had given him enough confidence to confront Kassan so boldly. A multitude of possible futures flickered through Kassan’s mind as he frantically used [Divener’s Gaze] in an attempt to foresee what was going to happen.

Yet again, Kassan’s visions proved maddeningly vague, leaving him no choice but to abandon his efforts and face the situation without any forewarning.

“I don’t know what you think you ar⁠—”

Kassan only managed to speak a few words before he felt the sting of a blade at his throat and an unfamiliar presence at his back. This would be enough to cause people to freeze in terror, but Kassan actually began to relax as the human’s “big reveal” finally became clear.

“Really? An [Assassin]? Is that the bright idea which gave you the courage to enter my home?” Kassan asked mockingly, his impression of the human falling further than he could have imagined. “We naga have been killing each other before your ancestors started fornicating with sentient clumps of sand in the middle of the desert. You will not leave this place alive if you spill a single drop of my blood.”

Kassan was not exaggerating in the slightest. He trusted his defensive artifacts to preserve his life and knew that his manor contained enough traps that none of them had any hope of escaping without his permission.

This wouldn’t be the first [Assassin] to die in his manor’s halls, and he sincerely doubted that it would be the last. Kassan was somewhat concerned that none of his [Servants] or his [Majordomo] had intervened—or returned to the room at any point in their conversation now that he thought about it—but he was still confident that he could handle the situation.

That confidence only began to flag after he saw Zareth’s smile twist into a darkly amused smirk at Kassan’s words.

“I don’t think it’s the blade which you should worry about, Priest Kassan. It’s the person wielding it.”

Feeling a premonition wash over him that was colder than the steel at his throat, Kassan slowly looked over his shoulder and met the eyes of the figure standing behind him. For a moment, he almost couldn’t believe what he was seeing, and he tried to find a more reasonable explanation.

“Do you truly expect me to believe that you managed to turn such a powerful [Poison-Master Assassin] against me? That’s impossible,” Kassan said as he turned his gaze back to the smirking human, moving slowly so as to not cut himself on a potentially poisoned blade. “The Echoes of Jelt have never in their entire history betrayed a contract, especially with a force as powerful as House Khrysar. Did you think that you could fool me with this? Though I must admit, I’d underestimated your cult’s potential with shapeshifting. His appearance is passable as Khasim Dhari, even if there is room for improveme⁠—”

Kassan’s words were cut short as the man holding the knife to his throat turned aside and unleashed a stream of green fog from his mouth. The toxic mist engulfed a priceless painting on the wall, dissolving it into nothing more than a smoking ruin within seconds.

…Shit.

He’d hired Khasim Dhari often enough to be extremely familiar with his favored skills. [Toxic Essence] was by far his most signature ability, allowing Khasim to turn everything from his blood to his spit to his very breath into an incomparably lethal weapon. Kassan had read reports of the Plaguebringer soldiers that the Cult of Cerebon had gifted to Tal’Qamar’s military, and they couldn’t even come close to competing with the sheer potency of the [Poison-Master Assassin].

“Why are you doing this?” Kassan asked, his question directed to the cutthroat who had been so content to accept his gold a few months ago. “You must know that the Echoes of Jelt won’t rest until you’re dead for this betrayal.”

No Assassins Guild would ever accept its members ruining their reputations like this, especially one as high-level as Khasim Dhari. He was also simply too valuable to let go.

“The Serene One has chosen me for this purpose,” said Khasim, his voice filled with bone-chilling fervor completely unlike the flat monotone Kassan recalled from previous interactions. “I am to be the goddess’s favored instrument, and you are the medium through which I shall earn my redemption.”

Kassan couldn’t quite remember the last time he’d felt so utterly caught off guard. The Khasim Dhari who he knew was someone who’d rather spend his time testing his most lethal poisons on whoever he could get his hands on than concern himself with anything as “irrelevant” as divine favor or morality.

Even Kassan’s “guests” appeared to be taken aback by the sheer intensity radiating from the insane killer, with the human and the lizardkin soldier even seeming to be extremely uncomfortable. The foreign savage’s expression was much more difficult to understand, though her next words began to make things a bit more clear.

“Hmph. While he is an infidel who worships an unworthy god, his resolve is admirable,” the shivarath said, nodding in approval after a moment of consideration. Her expression then grew thoughtful and even a bit excited. “One wonders how difficult it would be to replicate such a feat through the Weaver’s domain. I do believe I recall reading about a specialized Class Evolution dedicated to manipulating the brain while studying to become a Senior Fleshwarper. It seems that it would be worth investing resources in pursuing that avenue.”

“That’s… something that we can discuss later, Vidhatri,” said the human, sounding as if he would much rather not discuss the matter at all. “For now, I think it’s best that we leave this sort of thing to the professionals.”

Let it never be said that Kassan lacked the ability to quickly understand a situation when given enough clues to do so. The shivarath’s reference to manipulating brains and Khasim’s mention of the “Serene One” left little room for misinterpretation.

“Ah, I see. You’ve enslaved his mind with the help of the Order of the Serene Path,” Kassan said with faint awe at the sheer ruthlessness of such a tactic. Though he probably shouldn’t be so surprised given that the Cult of Cerebon had publicly killed more than a dozen people using a rather gruesome ritual.

Still, there was something especially heinous about what had been done to Khasim Dhari. To have one’s very mind twisted and perverted into something completely unrecognizable to what it once had been was a fate worse than death. Kassan had done many things in his life that would leave most people recoiling in horror, but even he couldn’t recall ever having done anything quite so depraved.

Kassan had heard a bit about what the Order of the Serene Path had been doing to “rehabilitate” the criminal dredges of Tal’Qamar, but he hadn’t really paid much attention to it. [Mind Mages] were not an unknown factor, and Kassan had been confident in his ability to protect his own mind from any intrusion.

But if these [Monks] from Great Mu could overpower the mind of someone as high-leveled as Khasim Dhari… then that confidence had been shattered in an instant.

And that thought terrified Kassan more than anything had in a very long time.

I’d dismissed them as weak, but the Order of the Serene Path might just be the most dangerous of Tal’Qamar’s new faiths. Even more than the Cult of Cerebon, Kassan thought with dread even as he focused his attention back onto Zareth. But that’s not something I can afford to worry about right now…

He’d quite clearly underestimated the human and his collaborators to a dangerous degree.

“Your methods are… thorough, I’ll give you that,” Kassan admitted reluctantly, his regard for the human actually improving at the successfully executed scheme. “To not only lure in and capture an associate of mine as powerful as Khasim was no small feat. And to arrange for him to be compromised by those foreign [Monks] while their goddess obscured my foresight was quite clever. The only thing I don’t fully understand is why you chose to go through so much effort. Khasim is quite capable, but you would have been better served simply hiring a competitor rather than what you’ve done.”

And also why the rest of the Hierophant’s Council had chosen to go along with this scheme. They must have seen a truly significant reward if they were willing to make an enemy of the Circle.

As expected, Zareth seemed somewhat eager to reveal his intentions. The desire to explain a well-executed plan to one’s enemies was a sentiment that Kassan could fully understand.

“Oh? Do you really not understand?” Zareth asked, the gutter trash actually daring to sound genuinely surprised at Kassan’s ignorance. “You must really be flustered. I thought that you would have already figured out by now that I’m far more interested in what Mr. Dhari—or perhaps Acolyte Dhari would be more appropriate—knows, rather than what he can do. As should you.”

It only took a moment for Kassan to understand what Zareth was implying. While Khasim Dhari was quite valuable for his skills, the [Poison-Master Assassin] had been a favored asset of House Khrysar and the Circle for nearly a decade. The Echoes of Jelt had sent Khasim to Tal’Qamar frequently due to his heritage, meaning that the sheer number of crimes that Khasim had knowledge of was far more catastrophic to him and the Circle than Kassan could articulate.

Even if there had been efforts made to clean up certain loose ends over the years, a high-level-enough [Investigator] would easily be able to piece together the threads of all those dark deeds, especially with Khasim’s firsthand accounts. This normally wouldn’t be an issue as any one of the Great Houses had enough influence to bury even the most blatant of crimes… but the Cult of Cerebon had allies in both High Command and House Vhelan.

If Khasim were to confess everything that he had done under their orders to High Command, then General Nasrith would have everything he needed to arrest Kassan on charges of treason.

Living the rest of his life in a cell would be a merciful outcome if that were to happen.

“I can tell that you’re starting to understand,” Zareth said smugly, eyes alight with satisfaction as he gestured calmly to the killer behind Kassan. A moment later, he felt the knife leave his throat at the human’s command. “I imagine that the upcoming meeting of the Oversight Commission is going to be extremely eventful. Don’t you think so?”

“I see. So I’m being blackmailed by gutter trash,” Kassan said as calmly as he could, even as his mind raced frantically to find a way out of this situation. “Do you really believe that the Circle and House Khrysar will simply accept this and bow to your demands? Your ego must have inflated beyond reason after surviving a few half-hearted attempts at your life if you think this will be allowed to stand. You and your friends will be turned into corpses by the end of the week, and your little cult will be⁠—”

Kassan hissed in pain as a spiked, fleshy tendril shot from Zareth’s back, interrupting his attempt at intimidating the human and impaling his tail. An intense burning sensation began to spread as his scales started to blacken and rot from where Kassan had been pierced.

“If there’s anyone whose ego has been inflated, it’s you, Priest Kassan,” said Zareth, his voice and expression as chilling as the tundras of Fjøll. “Even if what you say were true, do you really believe that you’ll live long enough to see it happen? Even if you survived me, do you really believe that House Khrysar and your rivals in the Circle are going to stand by your side? Or do you think it’s more likely that they’ll simply blame you for the entire situation and then toss you aside like the gutter trash you seem to believe yourself above?”

Before he could respond, Zareth pulled his barbed tendril from Kassan’s tail with vicious force, the pain momentarily blinding him as he struggled to maintain his composure. The human then leaned down and touched his tail with a degree of gentleness that could only be considered mocking before using his powers to heal the wound he’d just caused.

It didn’t escape Kassan’s notice for a single moment that Zareth could cause and heal as many injuries as he wanted without leaving a shred of evidence behind.

The only thing keeping Kassan from using every single trick at his disposal to slaughter the human right then and there was the explicit knowledge that his attempt would be woefully unsuccessful. His prescient skills warned him that the lizardkin soldier and the shivarath were ready to back up the human at a moment’s notice. Behind him, the assassin was still waiting exultantly with his dagger in easy reach.

“What exactly do you want from me?” Kassan asked, not bothering to hide the virulent hatred growing inside him as he realized that the human was right. Sylthana would discard him the very second that his usefulness reached its end, and everything he had worked for would crumble in an instant.

“It’s simple. As a proud member of the Hierophant’s Council, you’re going to help us during the upcoming meeting of the Oversight Commission,” Zareth said, a pleased smile crossing his face as he saw Kassan’s opposition wavering. “Your former benefactors don’t realize it, but a new dawn is coming to Tal’Qamar. Aren’t you grateful that you’ll be on the winning side?”

Over the next few minutes, Kassan listened to Zareth smugly share some of the details regarding what General Nasrith, House Vhelan, and the Hierophant’s Council intended to do in just a few days. Kassan found himself reluctantly impressed and saw no other option but to start negotiating over the terms of his cooperation with the human—which were not all that generous.

All the while, his respect and loathing for Zareth grew in equal measure. He would play the human’s game for now—at least until he managed to develop countermeasures against the blackmail being used against him.

And once that happened…

Well, this human would soon learn that patience was something Kassan had in abundance.

Chapter 21

After successfully blackmailing Kassan, Zareth realized that he had a rare few days ahead where his schedule wasn’t completely packed.

His initial plan had been to spend the time studying the Tome of Meldorath, but a few tantalizing references to unique fleshcrafting techniques had quickly diverted his attention, drawing him into his laboratory instead. But then he had remembered that he still had a Skill Point to spend and a new Skill Evolution to test out, which seemed to take precedence at that time. Zareth had hemmed and hawed over it for a day or so but had ultimately settled on [Pedagogic Leadership].

It was actually a very close call between that and [Pious Leadership]—the final choice of [Strategic Leadership] simply didn’t offer much in his day-to-day life—but it seemed like the most logical decision. [Pious Leadership] could have led to rarer religious-based classes such as [Paladin], but neither he nor Cerebon were all that concerned with the fervor of the cult’s members.

In contrast, [Pedagogic Leadership] had the benefit of helping Zareth’s followers acquire classes and skills that corresponded with their own desires and talents. Sure, Zareth’s plans for a bunch of flesh armor wearing [Paladins] guarding the spire were probably pushed back quite a while, but the potential gains from [Pedagogic Leadership] were far more versatile and immediate.

Therefore, Zareth had spent his Skill Point and decided to get the best of both worlds by teaching his [Cultists] while also experimenting with his new ideas. That’d been all he’d been doing while he waited for the date of the upcoming meeting with the Oversight Commission to occur, and there had been some… interesting results.

Zareth stood at the edge of the raised stone platform in his lab, his gaze locked onto the creature before him—a patchwork monstrosity that defied any conventional understanding of fleshcrafting. He had expected something extraordinary from his students, but what stood in front of him was beyond even his wildest conjectures.

A low, unnatural growl emanated from the creature’s throat. It had the base form of a large hound, but there were segments of muscle grafted onto it that pulsed unnervingly with etheric energy. Its legs were longer, more sinewy than any natural predators, and where its eyes should have been, there was instead a series of pulsating, bioluminescent membranes.

“Nog… I thought you told me that you wanted to become an [Aesthetic Beastshaper],” Zareth said slowly to the excited ogre boy showing him his work. “There is quite literally nothing aesthetic about this.”

“But, sir. It’s adorable!” Nog said as he gesticulated energetically toward the nightmare dog. “Look at her eyes. They’re vibrant, pulse with life, and are really good at tracking people,” he said as he enthusiastically pointed at the literally pulsing membranes in the thing’s eye sockets. “And the way it moves is so captivating! Perfect for jumping out at [Thugs] in the slums. Oh! And its nose is real good too!”

Zareth stared, dumbfounded, as the abomination staggered in fits of movements as jerky as they were unnervingly quick. The thing certainly was captivating, in the same horrifying way that person would stare at a bus full of orphans going straight off a cliff.

I wonder if the System is going to create a class exclusively for Nog, Zareth mused. Surely nobody has ever become an [Un-Aesthetic Beastshaper]. But then again, I doubt he’s the first person who’s enjoyed making monstrosities in a spooky tower.

“Well done, Nog. I’m proud of you,” Zareth said after a moment of silence, deciding that the kid’s sense of aesthetics was probably already doomed. “Maybe you could help Vidhatri and Safiyah create the cult’s new flesh golems when you have the chance.”

[Pedagogic Leadership] also dissuaded him against smothering the boy’s talents in this field and allowed Zareth to instinctively know that Nog would level a bit quicker if allowed to pursue his passions.

It probably says something about me that I actually have use for someone making unholy abominations… Oh, well. The nightmare dog isn’t all that bad. The olfactory system is pretty advanced, and I think it might be able to see Ether… maybe?

Much like the biological impossibility that was Glurp—Tal’Qamar’s friendliest meat blob—Zareth wasn’t fully certain how Nog managed to create these abominations without completely destabilizing them, but it was probably fine. He just hoped that Nog’s future class wasn’t too over the top, though his newfound pedagogic instincts told him that his hopes were likely in vain.

“Really? Thanks, Apostle Zareth!” Nog beamed, his grin stretching so widely across his face that Zareth almost wondered if the kid’s face had been subtly modified. “I’ll go talk to Safiyah right away. She has an idea for a giant maggot thing that she wants to present to Vidhatri, and I think she could use some help.”

Zareth watched with a combination of bewilderment and amusement as the teenager scampered out of the laboratory. He’d never been more sure that the System did certain things to a person’s mind than he was right now.

Too many of his followers were starting to become… peculiar.

Zareth swept his gaze across the training room, where [Cultists] were all hard at work with their personal projects.

One of his recent changes to the cult was the formalization of Zareth’s Clergy, which basically consisted of everyone who worked directly for the cult rather than those who simply worshiped casually for [Cerebon’s Boon]. Much to his relief, all those who had earned the [Cultist] class had agreed to become members of his Clergy. Because even though Zareth was now paying them a weekly stipend, one larger than most craftsmen earned, he could now treat them as proper employees and work them to the bone without a trace of guilt.

That’s why Zareth had promptly assigned each of his [Cultists] their own projects, focusing on innovative products that could be vital for the city he planned to build in the middle of the desert. After all, with the Seed of Creation providing an abundant supply of cheap biomass, Zareth could rely more on his cult to craft items from flesh, reducing the need to spend resources on [Masons] and [Carpenters].

“Now’s not the time for rest, Tamir. If you align the muscle strands too loosely like that, the tensile strength of those pillars drops by at least twenty percent. You’ll have support columns buckling under the slightest bit of pressure. Fix it by grafting them with tighter weave patterns—like you’ve seen in tendons, not loose muscle tissue!”

“Hmm, not bad, Elira. The cushioning effect from the dermal layer makes this chair surprisingly comfortable, and the skeletal frame is flexible enough to accommodate different postures without compromising its structure. I see you’ve even managed to keep the vascular system active without causing too much heat buildup. Well done. Just be mindful of any stray growths—too much stimulation could lead to unintended hypertrophy.”

“Orlan! This membrane is too inconsistent in opacity. Windows are supposed to entirely clear, not look like someone smeared grease over them! What is your current Control stat? If you can’t be steady while using [Permanent Flesh Manipulation], then find someone else to handle the finer details. Corneal tissue isn’t so complicated that it should give you this much trouble.”

Several months of learning with Vidhatri and the [Instructor of Scholars] as well as countless dissections meant that his [Cultists] were reasonably educated on the basics of biology. At least as much as a bunch of medieval street rats turned flesh crafters could be expected to be, even with supernatural teaching aids.

Zareth spent several minutes examining each of their projects, occasionally offering advice or criticism where it was needed. [Pedagogic Leadership] really showed its strength during these moments—Zareth could feel the subtle improvement in his [Cultists] as they reflected on his suggestions and applied his guidance. Many of them reported themselves quickly approaching their next level.

He hadn’t had the skill long enough to actually know how significant the effects were on his subordinates’ leveling speed, but the initial results were extremely promising.

Zareth could practically feel the greed in his heart swell as he imagined what he could do once he finally had a full-blown Ruler class. But that goal was still a ways away before he could grasp it fully. For now, he had to be patient and guide his cult to greater heights.

“Why is this so difficult, Vidhatri? I was really certain this would work,” Zareth said as he studied a web being woven in the corner of his laboratory. “Is it because I didn’t choose [Aesthetic Beastshaper]? The silk produced by the Qahtani Swarming Silkspider still can’t compete with what’s coming out of Great Mu or Eldamar even after I spent so much effort modifying the damned thing.”

“You should learn to lower your expectations. If we could surpass countless generations of [Beast Tamers] selectively breeding their creatures in a mere few weeks, the Chosen of Cerebon would have already seized this world,” said Vidhatri. Her tone was a bit absentminded as she used all four of her arms to shape a clump of flesh into a tall, obelisk-like structure. “Besides, what you’ve managed to create is already sufficient for lands as poor as these and can be used to make fourth-grade robes. Onara is certainly pleased.”

Magical equipment was often categorized in grades depending on the level of the craftsmen needed to make them, with fourth-grade robes requiring a Level 40 or higher [Seamstress]. Such equipment could theoretically withstand the blow of an average [Warrior] or [Mage] of similar level, but the complexities of real combat made it implausible to easily quantify these sorts of things.

Even if the System often made Zareth feel like this world was somewhat like a video game, there was a limit to how much it could be gamified.

But when it came to the silk’s value, Zareth had to admit that Vidhatri had a point. For some time now, he’d been looking to establish a source of long-term income for his cult that didn’t directly require his [Cultists] to spend all day creating pets or making rich people prettier. While his veterinary experience meant that he was far more familiar with mammals, Zareth actually knew quite a bit about arachnids and insects due to personal interest and thought to create more effective silk-weaving creatures to turn a profit.

He had even spent quite a bit of effort experimenting with different applications of Meldorath’s Heart, Sigils, and his own personal understanding of biology to develop unique strains of silk. But even so, he couldn’t truly compete with the highest-end competition found on Valandor.

It’s fine. At least I’ll be able to equip my Clergy with relatively high-quality robes, Zareth thought, comforting himself. I might even soon have enough political influence to enforce a partial monopoly in Tal’Qamar if things later today go well.

Not wanting to get ahead of himself, Zareth set those thoughts aside and shifted his focus to Vidhatri’s project, which was far more intricate and crucial than the tasks assigned to the less experienced [Cultists].

“How is it coming? Have you made any progress on the moisture-collecting method that you intend to use? I can tell that the transpiration mechanism seems fairly advanced,” Zareth asked, his tone laced with genuine curiosity. He approached the towering pillar of flesh Vidhatri had been shaping, its surface mottled with layers of waxy skin and interwoven organic fibers that reminded him of desert plant structures.

Its exterior was a spiraling webbing of ligaments that expanded at the base and tightened as they spiraled upward, creating a natural funnel for air to flow through. The structure was designed not only for stability but also to maximize the surface area that would come into contact with the surrounding air.

And now that he drew closer, Zareth could even spot wisps of fog emanating from the entire structure and feel a slightly damp condensation on his skin. Opening his third eye, he was pleasantly surprised to see that Vidhatri had integrated one of his newer Sigils into the project.

“I have. Our experiments have shown that it’s most efficient to simply use as many different techniques as possible,” Vidhatri replied, her expression focused as she continued working on the pillar. “The ligaments take inspiration from that ‘Fog Harp’ method that you described to me and are made of a thin layer of chitin, inspired by the Jalasi Oasis Beetle’s hydrophilic carapace. It’s been infused with the Sigil of an Arbaseli Fogweaver Toad, and the base of the structure has tendrils that can be quickly made into pseudo-capillary roots if any underground water sources are discovered nearby. I’m also considering the possibility of adding amphibian-inspired water-permeable tissue to the inner layers.”

While much of the water for Zareth’s new city would come from “fruits” provided by the Seed of Creation, he was well aware that not everyone would be enthused about exclusively consuming flesh-crafted water sources. That being the case, Zareth considered it a priority to develop an alternative source of clean, naturally collected water that could help sustain the city’s population.

It was no small endeavor and would likely require a significant source of sustainable biomass to even be slightly viable in the long term, but the potential benefits would be worth the effort. There was no resource more valuable to the city-states of the Qahtani Desert than water. Creating a stable source of it would not only increase the power of his cult exponentially, but it could potentially even allow the city-states in the desert to grow more crops, increase their populations, and one day compete with Eldamir and Great Mu.

“I see. The team sent to scout the Shifting Expanse have found a suitable location for the city,” said Zareth, nodding in approval. “It won’t be long now before all our preparations are put into action, so we’ll have to test your work as soon as possible. I have a feeling that things are going to become a bit hectic after today’s big event.”

“That is likely. I usually care nothing for the petty politics of godless heathens, but I’m looking forward to it,” Vidhatri said with a sadistic gleam in her four eyes. “The treacherous snake priest is quite impressive. He revealed oh so many secrets and refined your plan beautifully after he was properly subjugated.”

Zareth forced down a sliver of discomfort at the mention of Kassan. Blackmailing the bastard was necessary for what Zareth had planned, but he had a feeling that it was something that would eventually come back to bite him in the ass. He’d seen and recognized the desire for revenge in the naga’s eyes before Kassan quickly got control over himself and agreed to cooperate.

Zareth had no doubt that he’d only really been able to get the drop on Kassan because the naga had underestimated him. As far as Kassan knew, Zareth was just an uneducated former street rat who got ahead due to luck, opportunity, and a little bit of cleverness.

He didn’t know that Zareth’s mind was more than twice the age of his body or that he had the full cooperation of a secret organization to gather information for him and help make arrangements. It was honestly implausible that Zareth would have been able to organize the silent kidnapping and brainwashing of a powerful assassin whose name and significance he shouldn’t even have known, otherwise.

But now, Zareth sincerely doubted that Kassan would ever underestimate him again. And that was very dangerous.

“I really wish that guy wasn’t so useful or as well connected as he is,” Zareth said with an aggravated sigh. “I don’t enjoy killing people, but I learned a long time ago how dangerous loose ends can be, and under all his arrogance, Kassan is patient and clever enough to bury a knife in my neck at the worst moment.”

“You need not worry. The Weaver of Sinews has great plans for us,” Vidhatri said without a sliver of doubt in her voice. “The infidel’s paltry schemes will fail beneath our destiny. Should he prove treacherous, I will ensure that his corpse serves as little more than material for the Sacred City, which we have been charged to build!”

It probably wasn’t a good sign that Vidhatri’s murderous zealotry felt more comforting than disturbing. Still, it probably wasn’t good to let her get too caught up in her homicidal fantasies.

“I hadn’t realized that I was building a ‘Sacred City,’” said Zareth, raising a questioning eyebrow at Vidhatri as he tried to change the subject. “You are aware that we haven’t even settled on a name for the place, and that there are going to be several other ‘infidel’ faiths living there, right?”

“Yes. But while it is… unfortunate that we must share this new Holy Land with our ‘allies,’” Vidhatri began, her tone practically dripping with reluctance and disdain. “That is but a small blemish on the grand feat which we will accomplish; building an entire city from Cerebon’s own divine flesh! The Flesh Father and the rest of the Dekhshetra Temple’s leadership have already declared your work to be the living embodiment of Cerebon’s will!”

Her derision was quickly replaced by near rapturous enthusiasm, even ceasing her work in her sheer excitement.

“Well… I’m glad they approve,” Zareth said with a touch of indulgence, feeling a bit embarrassed, as several startled looks were cast their way after Vidhatri’s near-shouted proclamation. “Although, that’s the first I’m hearing of it. Did you only just get word back from Zumair?”

Transcontinental communication wasn’t easy or quick without extraordinary means. Cerebon could shorten that time drastically, but expecting a deity—even one as relatively relaxed as the God of Flesh—to act as a glorified telephone was obviously a non-starter.

That Vidhatri managed to receive a response from Zumair only a month after learning of Zareth’s plans was actually quite impressive.

“Indeed. Our temple’s high-level contracted [Messenger] delivered the temple’s response mentally during my dawn prayers,” Vidhatri confirmed, her voice still tinged with awe. “The temple intends to send several [Fleshweavers] to aid in the city’s construction, and even the Flesh Father himself seems increasingly interested in your work on this continent. He’s expressed a desire to meet with you when circumstances allow.”

Zareth couldn’t help but have mixed feelings about… pretty much all of that.

Having more experienced [Fleshweavers] to help would be a—potentially literally—godsend, but he could see a lot of issues arising from that. Zareth had gotten lucky with Vidhatri, as her religious zeal had fallen on the side of revering Cerebon so much that she was willing to overlook any cultural differences so long as Zareth obviously had the god’s favor.

But there was no real guarantee that the rest of Cerebon’s more violent sect’s members would be so willing to play nice.

“They’re welcome, so long as it’s been made clear that my cult answers only to me and Cerebon,” Zareth said firmly, intent on ensuring that there was no ambiguity about who was in charge. “I’ll be trusting you to personally handle any problems that might come up.”

Vidhatri might be blinded on certain matters by her zeal, but she was smart enough to understand the subtext of his words. The shivarath seemed conflicted for several moments, but her expression eventually hardened with resolve.

“I understand, Zareth. Our work here is too important to excuse any mistakes,” Vidhatri said decisively. “Cerebon’s favor is with you, and I won’t allow anyone to profane his will.”

Zareth smiled at the deadly intent in her voice, certain that at least one problem had been dealt with before it became an issue.

With that, Zareth engaged in a few more minutes of small talk with Vidhatri before leaving her in charge of the class and exiting the room. The establishment of his Clergy and the creation of a formal hierarchy within his cult were recent developments that required him to personally oversee much of the work being done.

Making his way through the spire, Zareth checked each of the newly created divisions of his cult, ensuring that everything was running smoothly.

His cult was still young and small—with less than a hundred people in the Clergy, so Zareth had decided to keep the bureaucracy relatively simple. Vidhatri had been placed in charge of the Fleshcrafting Division, which would include anyone who acquired the [Cultist] class or anyone of its Evolutions. He would probably need to expand things a bit once his cult gained people with more esoteric classes—such as [Occult Ritualist]—but that was a problem to be dealt with when it genuinely became necessary.

Rizok seemed relatively pleased with his appointment as the de facto head of the cult’s new Security Division, though that was just an informal position for now as his status as an active member of the Tal’Qamari military complicated things a little.

General Nasrith should be in a good enough mood after today to permanently transfer Rizok over to me, Zareth mused as he approached the cult’s training area. Nasrith should have already guessed by now that Rizok and I are too close for him to be a useful spy, so it wouldn’t be that much of a sacrifice to let him go.

Once he arrived, Zareth was quickly greeted by the sound of clashing steel and the sight of Rizok smacking around several trainees with the blunt side of his sword.

The Security Division pretty much consisted of Rizok and a dozen members of the cult who happened to possess some manner of combat class. Most were former military veterans who had retired for various reasons or Adventurers who had chosen to settle in the city, seeking a safer and more stable life. That was fine, given that they’d pretty much just be acting as glorified [Guards] for the cult’s few key assets and facilities.

Zareth didn’t genuinely need a full-blown army—for now, at least.

But seeing the Order of the Serene Path gain an actual Level 40 [Poison-Master Assassin] through brainwashing convinced Zareth the cult could use one or two combatants who could engage in… unorthodox methods of problem resolution.

Zareth’s gaze fell on a grim-faced dwarf with rippling muscles who was swinging an oversized club at Rizok with surprising finesse. The dwarf, Berik, was one of the people who joined the cult on the recommendation of Gurza and had once been a former member of the Red Scar Gang. According to her and verified by Zareth’s old contacts, Berik had been a mid-tier [Enforcer] who had been responsible for handling a variety of miscellaneous issues for the gang’s leadership.

Although Zareth’s position meant that he couldn’t go around having people’s kneecaps broken as liberally as the Red Scar Gang, having someone with Berik’s experience would be useful. [Enforcer] was a class with a broad enough skill set to handle a surprisingly diverse variety of tasks.

Zareth had a feeling that he would be putting Berik to work as soon as Rizok decided that he was satisfied with the dwarf’s training. It was a shame that Berik had only joined the cult for protection from his old gang rather than any real devotion to Cerebon.

A four-foot-tall, heavily muscled [Paladin of Flesh] would be pretty badass.

Zareth watched the fight for several more minutes before he was satisfied that Rizok had the matter handled and turned to leave. Aside from the Fleshcrafting Division and the Security Division, the rest of the Clergy had been perfunctorily organized under the Administrative Division—which was obviously headed by Zareth.

The members of the Administrative Division were responsible for a variety of tasks, such as Onara being assigned to recruitment or Gurza handling the cult’s philanthropic and medical activities. He would eventually have to work on creating branch organizations of the cult in the various cities within the Tal’Qamar-controlled region, but that was a matter for a later date. At this point, there simply wasn’t a big need for anything more complicated than these basic divisions.

But as he completed his inspection and returned to his office—planning to spend his final hours before the meeting that would decide the future of Tal’Qamar, he had a strong sense that the quiet moment wouldn’t last for long.

Settled in front of the mirror in his personal chambers, Nasrith carried out a final inspection of his armor and ensured that not a single blemish or speck marred its surface.

He wasn’t typically one for vanity, but he was savvy enough in the art of politics to recognize the importance of appearances. Many of those he would meet today dismissed him as a simple-minded butcher—a skilled executor of carnage, but one who lacked the finer nuances of political maneuvering. Many, of course, also knew better, understanding that anyone who had remained the leader of Tal’Qamar’s military for as long as he had without succumbing to his numerous enemies was not just a brute with a sword.

But whether they underestimated him or not, there was one prevailing impression that everyone in Tal’Qamar held of Nasrith.

Respect—often accompanied by fear.

It was an inevitable consequence for anyone responsible for countless deaths or someone who had reached the upper echelons in terms of levels. For some reason, any high-level individual developed a… palpable weight to their presence that anyone could sense the moment they entered the room. Nasrith was not only highly leveled but also responsible for the deaths of countless people, both directly and indirectly.

It was, in fact, rather tiresome to be unable to travel Tal’Qamar’s streets anonymously or be in the presence of a child without provoking tears. Nasrith had certain artifacts that could alleviate the issue but had absolutely no intention of wearing any of them today.

No, he wanted the Great House’s arrogant representatives to be fully and constantly aware that they were in the presence of someone who could end their lives with a flick of his tail. That’s why he opted for his oldest and imposing battle-worn armor instead of the polished ceremonial set that he tended to use for political occasions.

Dark plating, the scars of nearly a hundred battles, and the faintest scent of blood that not even magical cleansing seemed capable of removing clung to the armor like a second skin. Nasrith looked every bit the intimidating [General] that he was reputed to be.

Well… Nasrith actually thought that he looked like some manner of [Dark Lord] from a cliché Eldamari epic. But he felt like his achievements allowed him to live up to such an image and knew that it would be useful.

“Sir. Your scheduled meeting is about to begin.”

The voice of Lieutenant Colonel Anaya came through the other side of the door, clear and professional as always. Nasrith briefly considered the benefits of arriving late but almost immediately decided against it. It was best to leave today’s theatrics to Apostle Zareth—especially given the effort the human had poured into orchestrating his admittedly clever scheme.

Nasrith still had a role to play, of course—but if all went well, then he would mostly just be watching the outcome unfold.

After a final glance toward his reflection, Nasrith made his way out of his personal chambers and toward the meeting hall on the other side of the headquarters. One of the benefits of being the de jure ruler of the city was that he could freely arrange for the Oversight Commission to gather in his seat of power, making it easier to manage the proceedings.

And intimidate his political rivals by forcing them to go through rather stringent security checks.

Nasrith shook the thought from his mind as he reached the grand double doors of the meeting hall. The guards snapped to attention, offering a crisp salute before pulling open the heavy doors. As Nasrith entered the room, his gaze swept over the gathered leaders of the Great Houses who had already arrived. He was just in time to catch the subtle, satisfying moment when their staff tensed at his arrival before outwardly relaxing.

The meeting hall was vast and imposing, with a clear sense of hierarchy built into its design. At the center stood a large, circular stone table, solid and unadorned, surrounded by high-backed chairs for the members of the Oversight Commission. Their elevated position marked them as the decision-makers of Tal’Qamar. Surrounding this central area, an elevated gallery wrapped around the room, offering space for recognized onlookers—trusted advisors, guild leaders, and other notable figures. The seating arrangements ensured that the Commission held the central focus, while observers could watch but not interfere directly. The walls were lined with dark banners of the Great Houses, casting long shadows under the dim, practical lighting, giving the room a stark and formal atmosphere.

Nasrith quickly spotted that Archmage Agnazir had not arrived in person and had instead sent a lifelike naga made completely of marble to represent him—Sevek the Inexorable. Nasrith couldn’t help but pause as his gaze settled on the golem. While it was registered as one of Tal’Qamar’s Critical Assets, High Command had never been able to gather any intelligence on the creature that House Khysar didn’t share themselves.

Nasrith’s only clue that the golem was more than just another lifelike, mindless construct typical of most [Golemancers] came from sparse historical records suggesting it had been created by Idraxan the Mad. Anything made by that lunatic was not to be underestimated, and House Khrysar had implied as much even as they refused to explain how they acquired it after Idraxan’s defeat.

Even the golem’s grandiose title, “the Inexorable,” had been given by House Khrysar rather than earned through some great feat. It hinted at the creature’s abilities, revealing little of substance.

The fact that House Khrysar was permitted to keep such secrets, despite their potential implications for Tal’Qamar’s national security, only further demonstrated the need to bring the Great Houses under tighter control. Regardless, the golem was infamous enough that its presence showed that Archmage Aganzir was treating this meeting with due reverence, even if he hadn’t attended in person. Intelligence reports from officers stationed in Jabal-Alma revealed that the archmage remained deeply engrossed in his research of recently unearthed Nephalan Empire ruins, as well as an artifact left behind by the Cult of the Unfettered One.

Nasrith’s highest-leveled [Intelligence Officer] had even seen signs that the archmage had stumbled onto something potentially of great significance, so he wouldn’t malign Aganzir’s absence. Aside from the golem, the only other mild surprise was that House Seradis had finally settled their internal disputes and chosen a successor for Merchant Lord Raqasor.

Nasrith—and likely many others—had expected Raqasor’s son and heir to win the Great House’s power struggle, but the man and most of his most loyal backers had suddenly fallen ill and died a week prior to this meeting. Given the unlikeliness that a group of wealthy naga with access to the highest-leveled [Healers] their gold could buy would die so suddenly, it was an entirely unsubtle move to seize power by Selkhan Seradis—Raqasor’s surprisingly younger and little-known nephew.

Looking at him now, Nasrith could admit that the boy did a good job of playing the pompous and spoiled young merchant. His garb was opulent, a long silk robe adorned with gold embroidery, and his head was held high as he smirked arrogantly, but it would be foolish to assume the boy was exactly as he seemed on the surface. Nasrith would be paying Selkhan close attention during the meeting, both to get the boy’s measure and because this was House Seradis’s first real return to the political stage after the death of Raqasor.

The rest of the meeting room’s occupants were no real surprise, with Lady Marilith, Matriarch Sylthana, and Lord Valthor all present to represent the rest of the Great Houses. In addition to the leaders of the Merchant’s Guild and the Blacksmithing Guild were both in attendance, while the members of the Hierophant’s Council were seated in the galleries up above—alongside the various other key advisors and dignitaries who had gathered to witness the proceedings.

The observer galleries were usually quite empty, so their current fullness was a testament to the significance of this meeting.

However, Nasrith found his eyes being drawn to the human who would soon become the center of attention for everyone in this room. Apostle Zareth had arrived with Master Sergeant Rizok and that foreign shivarath at his side, an air of confidence surrounding him.

Tal’Qamari politics in recent years shifted as quickly as the Qahtani Desert’s dunes, and the human did a better job of exploiting this than he rightly should have. The Cult of Cerebon had been the most successful faction in seizing the void of power left behind by the Conclave. This could be attributed to their relatively lax religious doctrines, their willingness to accept nearly anyone as members, and the general competence of their leadership.

In fact, the Hierophant’s Council in general had proven their value over the past year. The boons provided by their gods were just as good as those from the Conclave, the Sunrise Slums were improving by the day due to the Cult of Cerebon, and several troublesome criminals had mysteriously decided to repent their sins.

Even unrest from Tal’Qamar’s more religiously inclined population was lower than initially projected, due to successful conversions. Though the thousands of Conclave loyalists who had been purged in the initial days after Raqasor’s death likely helped.

Indeed, anyone could see that the Hierophant’s Council had been a remarkably positive force in stabilizing Tal’Qamar. But their growing influence also came at a risk that Nasrith found increasingly dangerous. He would be damned before he allowed another, newer version of the Conclave to rise up and control the city.

No, Nasrith’s ambition would not allow him to become a puppet like Raqasor. Not to the Great Houses or anyone else. He’d already resolved himself to deal with the Cult of Cerebon decisively and permanently if they ever bared their fangs in his direction.

But for now, he and Apostle Zareth were aligned in purpose. And the human would soon be too distracted by the monumental task of establishing his own city to make problems for Nasrith in Tal’Qamar.

Perhaps this is why foreign [Kings] love expanding their lands so much. To rid themselves of troublesome vassals, Nasrith mused with some amusement.

Concluding that he’d lost himself in thought for long enough, Nasrith made his way to the central table, taking his seat with a measured calm. Nobody of any significance was absent from the meeting, so Nasrith didn’t see any reason to delay further.

“Greetings, Lords and Ladies of Tal’Qamar. As well as our honored guests from abroad, to our monthly meeting of the Territorial Governance Division’s Oversight Commission,” Nasrith said as he nodded to the Eldamari ambassador in the viewing gallery. He disliked that foreigners were allowed to watch these proceedings, but he had no doubt that Tal’Qamar’s inner workings were an open book to foreign powers regardless. “This month’s meeting is uniquely significant, as we will be deciding whether or not to ratify the Strategic Wartime Authorities Provision, which will allow High Command to more efficiently conduct its war against Tal’Qamar’s enemies.”

Many in the chamber had accused Nasrith of using the war as a pretext to seize power, claiming he would be unwilling to relinquish his expanded authority once the conflict ended.

They were correct, obviously, but the pretext of good faith was important enough that Nasrith needed to pretend otherwise.

“Specifically, these new authorities will allow the Ruler of Tal’Qamar the sole arbiter of many foreign policy decisions during times of war,” Nasrith continued, expertly hiding his disdain that this wasn’t already the case. “This includes control over the export and import of any material deemed strategically significant, expanded powers over recruitment and conscription, and the ability to designate zones of martial law when deemed necessary for the security of our nation.”

While these authorities might sound eminently reasonable, Nasrith had to fight fang and claw to secure support for even this. Seemingly eager to emphasize this point, Lord Valthor was unable to refrain from interrupting Nasrith before he even finished his opening statement.

“Hmph. ‘Expanded powers over recruitment and conscription,’” Valthor said with a scoff. “A rather diplomatic way of saying that you wish to send our sons and daughters off to die.”

Nasrith held back a disgusted sneer and was glad when Lady Marilith responded on his behalf.

“High Command already has the authority to conscript Tal’Qamar’s citizens,” Lady Marilith said calmly. “This would simply expand that authority to naga as well, Lord Valthor.”

“Yes. As I said. Our sons and daughters,” Lord Valthor said shamelessly, entirely unconcerned with how his words might be perceived.

House Zarqet had always been the most supportive of naga superiority as a concept, while most other Great Houses only biased themselves toward naga as a matter of personal interest.

“We’ve already discussed this matter thoroughly, Lord Valthor. The exemptions for anyone engaged in services critical to Tal’Qamar are already in place,” Lady Marilith said with an air of subtle condescension that Nasrith could never hope to replicate. “Unless you fear that your House’s members are… unfit to qualify for these exemptions, I fail to see the problem here.”

Lord Valthor was smart enough not to fall for such obvious bait, but his bared fangs and soft hiss showed that the barb had landed.

“And how are we to trust that these exemptions will be decided impartially?” said Matriarch Sylthana, never quite able to stop herself from responding when Lady Marilith was involved in the conversation. “Not only that, but the restrictions on exports and imports should be handled by our Great Houses, not some ignorant [Bureaucrat]. We are the lifeblood of Tal’Qamar’s economy, and we know best how to manage our city’s resources.”

“House Seradis agrees,” Selkhan said with a lazy wave of his hand, his voice dripping with feigned indifference. “Everyone knows that the work of a [Merchant] is best left to themselves. That’s why we have Guilds.”

The boy’s response was predictably met by quick agreement from the Guildmaster of the Merchant’s Guild.

“House Khrysar agrees with the general’s proposal,” said Sevek the Inexorable, its voice a strange, hollow resonance, like the echo of metal striking stone in an empty chamber.

Everyone waited a moment for the golem to elaborate in some way, but it seemed comfortable leaving the matter there. With everyone having stated their positions, it wasn’t long before the chamber broke out into a cacophony of debate.

Nasrith mostly ignored their chatter, as he had already heard their arguments before and knew that words alone would not sway any faction from their current position, regardless of their cogency. It quickly became clear that the proposal to expand Nasrith’s power lacked sufficient support to pass, though only just barely.

Two Great Houses and the Blacksmith’s Guild were in support, while the remaining Great Houses and the Merchant’s Guild were in opposition. Nasrith could have used High Command’s vote to make the matter a tie and then decided in his own favor as the Ruler of Tal’Qamar, but he’d been forced to recuse himself due to the obvious conflict of interest.

Nasrith watched the arguments unfold for a while before turning an expectant gaze to the observing balconies, locking eyes with today’s key figure. Apostle Zareth rewarded him with a subtle nod to signal his readiness.

“Aside from the Strategic Wartime Authorities Provision, there is one more proposal that High Command wishes to put before this commission,” Nasrith said, his voice easily cutting through the clamor of arguments and thinly veiled insults. Few seemed surprised at this ‘unexpected’ development, but many still turned curious eyes toward him, uncertain of what came next. “One that would see this commission expanded to accommodate an additional seat that would be given to the Hierophant’s Council.”

There was a moment of shocked silence from those whose informants hadn’t already discovered what Nasrith had been planning before the gathered assembly quickly burst into a mix of outrage, shock, and carefully controlled whispers.

“Are you so eager for power that you’ve lost your wits, Nasrith?!” Lord Valthor snapped, his forked tongue flicking in agitation. “We just barely rid ourselves of the Conclave, yet you wish to drag us back into a religious stranglehold?”

A clamor of agreement rose up in response to Valthor’s response.

“I trust the Hierophant’s Council completely, Lord Valthor,” Nasrith calmly lied as he met the blustering man’s gaze. “The Conclave was an oppressive institution, built on control and manipulation. The Hierophant’s Council is nothing of the sort. They are a collection of faiths working together for the common good of Tal’Qamar, and it is in our best interest to ensure they are properly represented in this chamber.” As the uproar in the chamber continued to escalate, Selkhan Seradis leaned back, a lazy smile playing on his lips. “A seat for the Hierophant’s Council? Wouldn’t that imply they’re as important and influential as the Great Houses? They are nothing more than religious advisors. Granting them a seat here would only encourage even the lesser houses to demand their own place at the table. And I’m sure we can all agree that’s not something we want. No insult intended, of course.” Selkhan’s words were crude and needlessly antagonistic but accurately reflected the impressions of the other Great Houses.

“Perhaps, boy, you underestimate the Council’s influence,” Lady Marilith said coolly, her voice carrying a hint of challenge. “The Hierophant’s Council has been instrumental in stabilizing Tal’Qamar. Their aid has garnered them considerable favor among the people. You may think them insignificant, but their achievements speak otherwise. Ignoring that would be a grave mistake and hypocritical given that you clearly bought those pretty little scales around your eyes from the Cult of Cerebon.”

The chamber murmured in response, several voices warming to Marilith’s words. While Tal’Qamar’s elite might be too arrogant for their own good, they weren’t foolish enough to completely dismiss the opinions of the city’s common folk either.

Selkhan’s smirk wavered as Marilith drew attention to the cosmetic enhancements around his eyes—an increasingly fashionable trend among the city’s affluent young naga. But before he could muster a response, Matriarch Sylthana cut in with a sharp tone.

“And yet, the so-called ‘Hierophant’s Council’ isn’t even a unified body,” Sylthana with a hint of mockery in her eyes. “From what I’ve heard, the Circle of Ghisara is quite resistant to cooperating with the rest of their little council. Are we to accept that they should be given a say in Tal’Qamar’s laws when the oldest and most prestigious members don’t even support this proposal?”

Well. I suppose that’s as good of an opportunity to begin as we could have hoped to receive.

Nasrith watched with amused relish as Sylthana gestured smugly to the leader of the Circle of Ghisara, even as Apostle Zareth looked pointedly at Kassan with even greater self-satisfaction. The Circle of Ghisara might not be particularly well-known among Tal’Qamar’s general population, but the degree of influence they held among the city’s naga elites was not to be underestimated. That was hardly surprising, considering the Circle had been established since their people’s displacement from Arzuma and had been using their auguries to strategically amass blackmail and favors over the years.

As far as Nasrith could tell, it was only because the Circle’s goddess had some manner of goal other than secular political dominance that the Conclave had managed to seize control over Tal’Qamar. It wasn’t an exaggeration to say that the Circle’s support or opposition to Nasrith’s proposal had the potential to drastically affect the ultimate outcome of the proceedings.

Both Sylthana and Zareth had good reason to believe that the Circle of Ghisara would fall on their side, but only one of them was correct. Kassan’s expression was unreadable for several moments before he spoke.

“Matriarch Sylthana is mistaken. The Circle of Ghisara stands fully with the Hierophant’s Council and supports General Nasrith’s proposal.”

The shocked silence that followed Kassan’s pronouncement filled Nasrith with a glee that he hadn’t felt since the War of the Northern Marches. That sensation of self-satisfied victory only grew as he watched Sylthana’s expression grow increasingly worse as she processed the implications of this betrayal.

As the matriarch turned to lock her gaze with Nasrith, he could vividly see the exact thought running through the woman’s mind. What did he tell you? What do you know about what I’ve done?

Nasrith offered her a rare smile, one he knew was wide enough to show his fangs and convey his response. Everything.

Chapter 22

“What is the meaning of this, Kassan?!”

A malicious smile crept across Zareth’s face at the sound of Matriarch Sylthana’s shocked outburst. This development was clearly outside of her expectations, and he could practically see her desperate need to figure out why one of her closest confidants had suddenly flipped sides. Kassan, on the other hand, seemed to be completely at ease with his betrayal—without the slightest twinge of guilt in his expression.

Murmurs and whispers began to ripple through the chamber as everyone realized they were about to witness some unexpected drama.

“I’m not sure what you mean, Matriarch,” said Kassan as he calmly looked down at her from the viewing gallery. “I’ve merely corrected your mistaken assessment of the Hierophant’s Council and my Circle’s position. What is your concern?”

Her concern was the treasure trove of blackmail over her shady dealings that she was worried about coming into the open, but that was hardly something she could openly admit.

Sylthana’s furious glare was as sharp as a blade, and an intimidating pressure began to fill the room, radiating from her like a storm ready to break as she spoke with chilling softness. “Are you certain that this is the path you wish to take, Kassan? Considering… everything?”

Zareth had no idea if she meant everything they’d been through, everything they’d done, or some other veiled meaning that drew upon their shared history, but the threat in her voice was utterly unmistakable to everyone in the room. That Sylthana wasn’t even bothering to pretend to hide her intentions among Tal’Qamar’s elites was a clear sign of her anger.

“I believe you know me well enough to recognize my determination, my lady,” Kassan replied smoothly, leaning back in his seat with an air of calm detachment. “Every path has been weighed, and this is the one I’ve chosen. Perhaps you might also spare a thought for what lies ahead.”

Zareth’s eyes gleamed with reluctant respect for Kassan’s ruthless resolve. Tal’Qamar didn’t lack for cruel bastards who would do anything to further their own interests, but there weren’t many who could decisively betray someone as powerful as Matriarch Sylthana without flinching. Kassan had only been given a few days to think over the matter, yet he’d made his choice to burn a decade-long partnership without hesitation.

He’s definitely one to keep an eye on, Zareth thought with mild unease as he turned his attention back to the matriarch.

Sylthana clearly didn’t understand how things had developed to this point, but her frequent glances at Nasrith and Marilith showed that she correctly suspected some sort of conspiracy.

Unsure of how to respond, Sylthana fixed her glare back on Kassan, her bone-chilling aura growing so intense that it felt as though the very air was laced with invisible blades. This lasted until Lady Marilith huffed in annoyance and did… something that caused the atmosphere in the room to instantly settle back to normal.

“Have you no self-control, Sylthana?” Marilith drawled, her voice laced with contempt. “I’m quite certain your mother taught you better than to wield such indiscriminate skills in public. [Matriarch’s Presence] is dreadfully crude. A more refined touch, like [Focused Intimidation], would have served you far better.”

Matriarch Sylthana instantly turned her furious gaze to Marilith. “Don’t you speak about her, you⁠—”

“I don’t see why this matters,” said Lord Valthor, wisely interrupting before Sylthana could say something she would regret. “While it’s… admirable to see that our city’s faiths are so cooperative with one another, they’re still far from worthy of a seat on this commission.” His tone was dismissive, eyes narrowing as he scanned the room. “We cannot simply recklessly grant political authority to religious bodies while we’re still fighting a damned war against the last group of fanatics we just overthrew.”

Murmurs of agreement spread throughout the room.

That argument was compelling enough to the city’s elites that Zareth felt a momentary flicker of worry. But then he glanced at the Order of the Serene Path’s special guest and remembered that the outcome of this discussion was already decided.

Though it couldn’t hurt to actually try a little persuasion. If he could convince the Great Houses to acquiesce to his demands without burning his trump card, then that would be for the best.

Zareth allowed the arguments to go on for a few minutes, listening as each faction laid out their positions, before gesturing subtly at Nasrith. The ever-vigilant general noticed him immediately and quickly understood his meaning.

“Given the topic at hand, I believe it would be wise to allow those who we are directly discussing to argue their own cause,” General Nasrith said smoothly during a lull in the conversation, his sharp gaze sweeping across the room. “Unless someone has a compelling reason otherwise?”

Nobody did.

Valthor looked very much like he wanted to protest against the “lesser races” involving themselves in the conversation, but even he knew that argument wouldn’t work.

“In that case, the Hierophant’s Council may speak for itself,” Nasrith continued when it became clear nobody would object.

Zareth steeled himself before confidently standing from his seat, causing him to instantly become the center of attention. There was some surprise and disapproval from the crowd when they realized that one of the younger members would be representing the Hierophant’s Council, but not as much as Zareth would have expected.

I guess the Cult of Cerebon’s reputation has grown even larger than I thought, Zareth mused with satisfaction before he began speaking.

“Thank you, General Nasrith, for the opportunity to address everyone’s concerns,” Zareth began, offering a gracious smile to his fellow conspirator before turning to the rest of the chamber. “I understand there are genuine challenges in granting my cult and the other faiths of Tal’Qamar a seat on this Commission, but I am eager to alleviate those worries. Moreover, I’m confident that our inclusion would bring about fewer risks and greater benefits than many might believe.”

Zareth could feel the crowd’s interest grow with that last statement. Few truly feared that they would grow anywhere near as powerful as the Conclave—at least not before the Great Houses could react. Nor did anyone really believe that the Hierophant’s Council was too insignificant to deserve a seat on the Commission.

There probably were a few who suspected that Nasrith had made a deal with the Hierophant’s Council for their support, but Zareth knew that there had been a great deal of effort behind the scenes to allay those suspicions.

Therefore, the primary source of opposition to the Hierophant’s Council’s inclusion was simply common prejudice and a reflexive desire to not dilute the power of their own votes. Entrenched interests were by no means an easy thing to overcome, but it could be done so long as one had sufficient leverage.

“And what greater benefits could we gain from giving your little group more power?” drawled Selkan, the rather pompous heir to the House Seradis, in a way that seemed even more condescending than most naga. “I find it hard to imagine what services you could provide that we couldn’t handle ourselves.”

Zareth briefly wondered if all members of the Great Houses were taught by the same group of [Tutors] how to sound as dickish as possible.

“Well… I could start by listing the many ways we’ve already contributed to Tal’Qamar,” Zareth said, locking eyes with the Seradis heir, his smile sweet but devoid of warmth. “The blood spilled by the Priesthood of Silvaris and the Way of Gendal in this war. Or how we’ve been instrumental in countering the Conclave’s divine forces, keeping everyone here safe from their gods’ wrath. But somehow, I don’t think that’s what you were asking.”

Zareth’s third eye caught the subtle shifts in the room, the unease spreading as his words reminded them all of the true stakes they faced—along with the not-so-subtle critique that some were more focused on material gains than survival.

That point probably wouldn’t have been effective before the Battle of Fal’Ashar, when the Conclave finally managed a tactical victory against Nasrith. Tal’Qamari forces had been pretty much steamrolling their enemies up until that point, making many feel like the war’s outcome was a foregone conclusion.

The outcome of that day may have been a loss for Nasrith on the battlefield, but it was a political opportunity that Zareth had no problem exploiting.

“I believe that all of our contributions, along with the role we play in stabilizing and protecting this city, mean we deserve a say in how Tal’Qamar moves forward, if we are to carry on doing so to the best of our abilities,” Zareth continued, adding another thinly veiled threat and criticism that caused many to shift in their seats uncomfortably. “Though I understand many have other priorities.”

“Is that a threat, human?” Lord Valthor coldly, his eyes narrowing in calculation as he studied Zareth. “Is this how your Council shows its loyalty to this city? By sabotaging our war effort if we don’t bend to your will?”

Yes. It is absolutely a threat, Zareth thought with vicious satisfaction.

“No. You misunderstand my meaning, Lord Valthor,” Zareth lied smoothly. “I would simply like to remind everyone here that there are portions of this city who are less impacted by the outcome of this war than others. It would be to Tal’Qamar’s benefit if they had a reason to be more invested in the Conclave’s defeat.”

It took an embarrassingly long time for anyone to decipher what he was implying, to the point where Zareth thought he might have to be a bit more explicit. Thankfully, Lady Marilith decided to have mercy on her companions.

“What you are suggesting then is that by granting Tal’Qamar’s non-naga citizens a voice in governance, we might inspire within them a deeper commitment to the city’s defense,” Marilith said with a thoughtful expression, as if she hadn’t spent several hours discussing the matter with him already.

A flicker of realization briefly illuminated Sylthana’s face as she remembered that public opinion was something that the Great Houses needed to care about, before darkening into suspicion as she glared at Zareth. “How convenient that the thing you claim would benefit us would also grant you greater influence with the populace. How long, I wonder, until you plan a revolt?”

“The Hierophant’s Council will remain confined in its influence to the humans and ogres,” said Sevek the Inexorable, his voice a flat, emotionless monotone. “The lizardkin constitute the majority of this city’s citizenry and are fully integrated into Tal’Qamari governance, with only minor social unrest among their population. The potential threat posed by the Council falls within parameters deemed acceptable by House Kavasa.”

Zareth carefully filed away that declaration to mull over later. He was very curious to know whether or not House Kavasa was unaware of the Tessik—or, more worryingly, if Great Houses only dismissed them as “minor social unrest.”

But that could wait until later. He could tell that Nasrith was about to make his move in this carefully orchestrated drama of theirs.

“Furthermore, I believe we have fewer options than you might realize. If we fail to adapt now, the situation in Tal’Qamar could become an existential threat to the naga,” General Nasrith said with ostensible severity, causing the room to grow heavy with tension. “Or at least to the Great Houses.”

That rather shocking statement from Tal’Qamar’s ruler and foremost military commander left many in shocked silence. It wasn’t too much of an exaggeration to say that the Great Houses were Tal’Qamar in all the ways that truly mattered.

These five families were responsible for nearly half of the city’s entire economic output, with the rest of the city’s wealthy naga aristocrats producing a further fifteen percent. The Great Houses controlled or held significant sway over every single guild save for the Adventurer’s Guild and had vast webs of alliances with Tal’Qamar’s elites, even having contact with many foreign powers.

To claim that the Great Houses were facing an existential threat was something that everyone in the room would consider ridiculous and almost blasphemous, if not for who was making that claim.

“What exactly do you mean, General? Is there a threat to my House?” Lord Valthor demanded, his voice cutting through the silence. There was a solemnity and sharpness about the man that hadn’t been present before, which Zareth found intriguing.

“Not as of now,” General Nasrith promptly replied, his voice steady and unyielding. “Yet I must remind this council that with each victory, we gain new subjects—precious few of whom are naga. With Tal’Hadin now in our grasp, our kinfolk have dwindled from two in ten to scarcely one in ten. It seems wise to make… political adjustments now, before they are made for us.”

The chamber fell into a tense silence, Nasrith’s words hanging heavy in the air.

For several historical reasons that Zareth wasn’t entirely educated on, the Great Houses had centralized heavily in Tal’Qamar after the fall of the Nephalan Empire. This meant that expanding Tal’Qamar’s reach across the Qahtani Desert would inevitably result in a dramatic demographic shift. Everyone present was smart enough to understand this, and they had probably even considered the implications before—presumably—overthrowing the Merchant Lord.

However, Zareth had a gut feeling that the Great Houses hadn’t fully appreciated just how successful the Hierophant’s Council would be in filling the void left by the Conclave. A quick glance at the discomforted expressions all around confirmed that assumption.

Now that there were several notable factions who could reasonably represent the city’s non-naga population, things were a little bit different. The naga were so disproportionately powerful that they could probably crush any outright rebellion even while drastically outnumbered, but any city-state conquered by Tal’Qamar would be in a constant state of unrest without the loyalty of its inhabitants.

Zareth knew that this wouldn’t be a well-received perspective—regardless of how accurate it was—so he quickly moved on to his next point.

“In addition, it seems entirely appropriate that our Council be granted a seat on this body given the domain General Nasrith has given us permission to establish,” Zareth said nonchalantly, as if he weren’t dropping another bombshell on them all. “Governing a city should entitle us to a certain degree of representation, wouldn’t you agree?”

A deafening silence followed, stretching on for several moments before being broken by a cacophony of agitated questions.

“Hmph. Does this arrogant human really believe he’s capable of managing a city?”

“Where are they getting the gold? Why haven’t I heard about this?!”

“Does High Command have the ability to authorize the creation of a new city without our approval? Quick, send someone to check the laws!”

The murmurs spread like wildfire, whispers intensifying as the council members attempted to process this bold new development. It wasn’t often that Tal’Qamar’s dignitaries were caught by surprise, and the sight was as amusing as it was telling.

Lord Valthor’s voice rang out, crisp and commanding, cutting through the clamor. “Enough.” The crowd quieted as he turned a hard stare on General Nasrith. “General, would you mind explaining what nonsense this human is suggesting? Where, precisely, would this ‘domain’ be established, and with whose gold? There have been no requests made to the Budgetary Commission.”

Zareth couldn’t help but feel a twisted satisfaction watching the Valthor flounder. More than anything, it was through the control of Tal’Qamar’s gold that the Great Houses maintained their iron grip on every endeavor within the city—allowing them to avoid more heavy-handed tactics. Zareth was grateful that his god had given him the means to sidestep their financial chokehold entirely.

General Nasrith held his composure, meeting Lord Valthor’s gaze with unshaken calm. “In full accordance with our laws, the Hierophant’s Council has been sanctioned by High Command to use their unique abilities to establish a foothold in the Shifting Expanse. In return for establishing an ideal resupply fort to attack Fal’Ashar, Fal’Farakh, and Anket, they will be bestowed near-complete governing rights over the settlement. As for the financial matter, there has been no request made because the Hierophant’s Council has decided to fund and manage their own budgetary concerns. No further oversight is necessary.”

A ripple of incredulity spread across the gathered council. Disbelief painted many faces as some of the aristocrats murmured to each other in astonishment.

“Are we expected to believe the Council can afford such an expense?” Valthor asked skeptically. “How could they possibly gather the resources for an endeavor of this scale?”

“Oh, I assure you, that won’t be a problem,” Zareth interjected with a smile as sharp as a blade.

A part of him was tempted to open up his chest and pull out the Seed of Creation currently stored within his body, but that kind of gore was a bit too excessive for polite company. Instead, he allowed strands of the godly power radiating from the seed to flow freely, releasing a gentle pulse that washed over the room and left even those without a skill to sense Divine Essence in awe.

“My god, Cerebon, in his boundless benevolence, has bestowed upon his followers a truly unique gift,” Zareth continued, his voice cutting through the stunned silence. “This gift is known as the Seed of Creation. When planted near a leyline, it will grow into the Cerebith Tree—a mighty flesh tree capable of producing a nearly limitless supply of biomass. This resource, cultivated and shaped by my cult, will meet nearly every construction need for the great city of Nishrahad.”

In the Nephalan language, Nisrahad loosely translated to “Sanctuary of Divine Guardians,” symbolizing the Hierophant’s Council’s promise to shield and safeguard the city’s people.

The mention of a “flesh tree” sent a ripple of discomfort through the chamber, but Zareth pressed on, highlighting the practical benefits before anyone could interject. “Not only does the Cerebith Tree provide practical, versatile materials that would save Tal’Qamar a great deal of labor and expense, but Nishrahad will be near unreachable to any hostile forces who lack the Dehsarin’s expertise in dealing with sand elementals. I trust that everyone here recognizes the strategic potential of an impregnable military outpost that also happens to be ideally positioned to serve as a trade hub connecting three major city-states.”

Zareth could tell from Sylthana’s furious glare that his emphasis on the word any had not been missed. Moreover, the immense benefits that Nishrahad could bring were obvious enough that even the most reluctant of hardliners were beginning to show consideration. Even the representatives from House Zarqet and House Seradis seemed reluctantly interested, not to mention the leader of the Merchant’s Guild, who was practically salivating at the prospect of the new shorter trade routes.

Things were looking good. So much so that Zareth was almost beginning to hope that he wouldn’t need to pull out his trump card at all.

Of course, that was when the matriarch decided to make things more difficult than they had to be.

“This is nothing short of preposterous,” she hissed, her gaze hard as steel as she surveyed the council. “Need I remind you all that we are at war with the very city-states this farcical ‘trade hub’ would cater to?! Will you truly allow this human to tempt you with illusionary benefits and allow this transparent little scheme to succeed? Do not forget that granting the Hierophant’s Council a seat on this commission means handing High Command the deciding vote to enact his every whim without question!”

That was a bit of an exaggeration. It’d become clear to Zareth during his meetings with Lady Marilith that House Vhelan and House Kavasa would only allow General Nasrith to consolidate power up to a certain degree. Still, the Great Houses didn’t know that for certain, and Sylthana’s rhetoric was clearly hitting its mark.

“Hmm. The matriarch raises a good point.”

“We have no idea how long this damnable war will last—or if the western city-states will be hostile once it does. But a city in the Shifting Expanse would bring our domain closer to the Sapphire Sea.”

“This Nisrahad would be a valuable asset even without trade routes…”

“I heard from my sister that the Sunstones from the Shifting Expanse are a lovely burgundy color! They would pair so beautifully with my scales…”

“It’s too dangerous. High Command already holds more power than we ever intended. Granting this would be like trading an entire oasis for a single waterskin!”

Arguments for and against began to break out in the chambers, each faction voicing their concerns or support for the Hierophant’s Council’s proposal. Zareth watched with measured patience, keenly observing how the balance shifted with each opinion voiced. But while those watching from the gallery seemed to lean generally in the direction of support, the actual members of the Oversight Commission seemed stuck along the same factional lines as when they started.

I suppose I should have expected this, Zareth thought ruefully. There was never going to be any argument compelling enough to sway their minds. The Guilds would have never gone against their backers, and the Great Houses have already made up their minds…

But since this entire meeting was little more than a predetermined farce, nobody could blame Zareth for what he was about to do. Zareth turned his attention to the gallery holding the Order of the Serene Path and nodded to the eerie, faceless mushroom man in monk robes who had arrived in place of Kinta. The Mycelid didn’t acknowledge him in any way, but Zareth somehow still got the feeling that they understood his meaning.

The arguments continued for several more minutes, falling increasingly in the opposition’s favor as House Khrysar used both bribes and unsubtle threats to turn the tide.

“We are all grateful that the Hierophant’s Council seems so willing to serve Tal’Qamar,” Lord Valthor said insincerely. “But unless anyone has anything further to say, I believe it’s best we call a vote on the issue and move on.”

Before Valthor could proceed, Zareth smoothly interjected, his voice as calm as ever. “Apologies, Lord Valthor, but I believe there is one final matter that might sway your deliberations. Something… rather pertinent to this esteemed Commission.”

Zareth noted the unease in Sylthana’s eyes, while Marilith and Nasrith exchanged subtle, anticipatory glances. He sensed a subtle shift in the flow of Ether around him, realizing that the figure who had stood silently behind him for the past half-hour was now visible to everyone in the chamber.

“I would like to introduce you all to someone who was, until very recently, a long-time collaborator of House Khrysar,” Zareth began, gesturing toward the solemn figure of Khasim Dhari. “And also a high-ranking member of the Echoes of Jelt, a renowned Eldamari Assassins Guild. He’s here to shed light on several serious crimes that House Khrysar has committed, not only against Tal’Qamar but also against their fellow Great Houses as well.”

For all the differences between this world and its inhabitants with Zareth’s old one, the inherent love of drama that all people shared was universal. The Echoes of Jelt were sufficiently famous—especially among a crowd like this one—that there were more than a few who gasped in recognition, while others shifted uncomfortably, exchanging uneasy glances. The reaction from Selkhan of House Seradis—so brief and uncontrolled that even Zareth’s third eye struggled to decipher it—was particularly surprising.

Recognition that flickered into something akin to realization before finally settling on extreme rage. All of this passed within a single moment, for Selkan had re-adopted the arrogant, disinterested facade he had been wearing before.

Interesting… I wonder what that was about, Zareth wondered as he considered the young merchant prince’s reaction.

After his… enforced moral realignment, Khasim had been thoroughly interrogated about all the work he had done for House Khrysar, with particular focus on his dealings involving the other Great Houses. As far as he knew, the intersection between House Khrysar and House Seradis was minimal, so it was strange to see such a strong response from Selkan.

But that was something Zareth would have to look into later. For now, he intended to exploit the grievances of Great House most heavily targeted by Sylthana, which was predictably⁠—

“Oh? Unseemly behavior from House Khrysar? Directed at the Great Houses themselves? What a revelation,” Lady Marilith drawled, her tone dripping with sarcasm as she cast a sideways glance at Sylthana, who looked as though she’d swallowed a particularly sour insect. “Do go on; we’re all ears.”

“How utterly absurd. Am I genuinely expected to sit idly while I’m slandered by a self-proclaimed cutthroat?” said Sylthana as her lips curled in disdain, a look of incredulous outrage twisting her expression. “Pray tell, how are we to trust that this man is who he claims to be? And even if he is, are we expected to heed the accusations of one whose loyalty is bought with gold?”

Her indignation swept through the chamber, drawing nods of agreement from some in the gallery who exchanged uneasy glances and murmurs of disapproval. Others, most notably the representative of House Seradis and House Zarqet, leaned forward with keen interest, their eyes locked on Khasim and Zareth as the scandal unfolded.

While they might count Sylthana as an ally, Zareth had no doubt that they were more than a little eager to learn what House Khrysar had been doing behind their backs. This wasn’t the kind of opportunity that they could afford to let slip by.

Just as Sylthana’s outrage began to gather steam, Marilith’s smooth voice cut through the air on cue, unflinching and composed. “If it pleases this Commission, I suggest that High Command requisition a high-ranking [Truthseeker] equipped with the [Detect Deception] skill from the Office of Investigation to settle this matter with all due swiftness and certainty.” She turned a cool gaze to Nasrith, a faint smile playing on her lips. “That won’t be a problem, will it, my dear General?”

“Not at all, Lady Marilith,” General Nasrith responded with a nod.

“House Kavasa seconds this motion,” said Sevek, the golem speaking up for only the third time since the meeting began.

Nasrith’s and Sevek’s responses were quick enough that even the most oblivious onlooker could tell that this had been coordinated beforehand, let alone to the politically adept minds of Tal’Qamar’s elites.

Sylthana gaped in stunned silence for several moments, resembling a fish out of water, before finally regaining her composure. Her expression grew solemn as the gravity of the situation settled upon her.

The matriarch struggled to think of any reason to refute the motion but failed to do so. It wasn’t long before the [Truthseeker], who had been prepared well in advance, was summoned and entered the chamber.

Many even took that time to ready their own lie-detecting artifacts or attendants, adding further weight to the testimony that was about to be presented. If it had been only the single [Truthseeker], Sylthana could have perhaps claimed bias from High Command or that Khasim had somehow managed to fool their skill. But with so many different people using various means to verify the truth, even the matriarch would struggle to discredit the testimony without looking desperate.

The look of bitter frustration from Sylthana when she realized this made Zareth glad that he’d had so much help putting together this plan.

“Let us proceed,” Nasrith said once everything had been prepared. “Khasim Dhari, step forward and declare your name and identity for all to hear as well as all information you have regarding violations of Tal’Qamari law. Know that any attempts to deceive this body will be met with severe consequences.”

Zareth stepped back and allowed Khasim to take center stage on their designated platform. The [Poison-Master Assassin] wore an expression of deep solemnity, as if he were about to undertake the most important endeavor of his life.

“I am Khasim Dhari, born of the Al’Jassa tribe and formerly sworn to the Echoes of Jelt. By the unending grace of the Serene One, I have been enlightened to the wickedness of my path and seek to atone for my sins by serving her forevermore. The Serene One has dictated that I shall begin to do so by bringing light to my past crimes.”

Zareth didn’t need the [Eye of Cerebon] to see the unease and fear at Khasim’s extremely obvious brainwashing. But that was a problem for the Order of the Serene Path to deal with later. Right now, it was only met with the [Truthseekers] nod of approval that mattered.

“Let it be known that Truthseeker Ishal has confirmed the sincerity of Khasim Dhari’s intentions,” General Nasrith announced, his tone formal as he gestured for Khasim to continue.

“For more than a decade, I’ve served as my Guild’s primary operative within the Qahtani Desert’s city-states,” Khasim began, his demeanor remarkably composed despite confessing to crimes severe enough to warrant his execution in any other situation. “There are many who hired the Echoes of Jelt for their services—but few as prolifically as, or with as much consequence, as House Khrysar.”

Sylthana’s desperate voice cut through the air like a whip, sharp. “Enough! This is slander! A mockery of the Commission and an insult to⁠—”

“You will cease your interruptions, Matriarch!” General Nasrith thundered, his commanding voice echoing through the chamber. The weight of his authority pressed down on the room like a tangible force, silencing everyone, including the enraged Sylthana. “You will have your opportunity to speak in due course, but this chamber will not descend into chaos.”

Lady Marilith, ever the opportunist, seized the moment with a slow, mocking clap. “Bravo, Sylthana. Truly, your flair for dramatics never fails to entertain. I wonder, though, are you afraid of what might come next? Or is this simply another example of your complete inability to control your temper? Honestly, it’s as if you’re a [Pampered Lady] rather than a [Matriarch]. Is it possible for classes to de-evolve?”

Sylthana’s glare was cold enough to freeze molten stone, but Marilith simply smiled, completely unbothered. Zareth had to give it to the old lady—she really knew how to get under Sylthana’s scales. Although her criticism of the matriarch’s competence was slightly overblown.

Any reasonable person would be flustered given what Khasim was about to reveal.

“Enough. This is not a forum for petty insults and emotional outbursts,” General Nasrith said firmly before turning his attention back to Khasim. “Proceed. State clearly and in detail the services you claim to have provided to House Khrysar.”

“Of course, General. I’m truly grateful for the opportunity,” said Khasim, his unnatural zeal allowing him to remain seemingly unaffected.

Zareth had perhaps underestimated just how… thorough Khasim intended to be, because the former assassin’s confession lasted for nearly thirty minutes as he listed a long litany of crimes attributable to House Khrysar, from mundane bribery to much worse that involved the Echoes of Jelt.

Assassination of political enemies, sabotage of important industries owned by the other Great Houses, and even cultivating ties to many of Tal’Qamar’s criminal elements. Zareth had no doubt that all of the other Great Houses also engaged in these kinds of activities, but none of them were unfortunate enough to have all of their dirty laundry aired in public.

However, there was one incident in particular that Nasrith had claimed would definitely be more than enough to force an investigation into House Khrysar and thus temporarily strip them of their voting rights.

“Matriarch Sylthana has maintained extensive dealings with various groups across the Eldamir Empire, with the Echoes of Jelt being just one among many,” Khasim continued, following his account of the poisoning of a minor lady’s prized birds. “Many of these connections are cloaked in an unusual level of secrecy—far beyond what one might typically expect from such dealings. My former guild, despite its expertise, struggled to uncover the full scope of House Khrysar’s activities… until a certain agreement came to light involving the recently conquered city of Tal’Hadin. One that I believe threatens Tal’Qamari’s relationship with the Eldamir Empire.”

Zareth watched as Sylthana lost all color in her face as she realized what was about to be revealed. An uproar rose in the chamber at the idea that House Khrysar’s activities could draw the ire of Tal’Qamar’s much larger and more powerful neighbor.

More than a few eyes drifted to the delegation from Eldamir, who had quietly been given special dispensation by Nasrith to attend this session under the guise of forging political ties. To Zareth, they looked like a group of stereotypical western fantasy [Knights], each of them resplendent in polished armor adorned with the sigils of the Eldamiri royal family.

Their leader, Dame Isolde of the Silent Crusade, was renowned for her unwavering devotion to Harpocrate the Silent Judge and her profound disdain for lawlessness, deceit, and political scheming. The Silent Crusade was a fairly influential knightly order and was thus fully capable of leveraging its reputation to demand accountability.

That Dame Isolde’s icy glare on Sylthana did not bode well for the matriarch.

Unlike her blustering efforts before, Sylthana seemed smart enough to realize that there was nothing she could do to stop Khasim from sharing his testimony.

“This agreement sought to establish a covert smuggling route from the Duchy of Arbasel to Tal’Hadin, bypassing the oversight of the Eldamiri royal and Tal’Qamar’s authorities,” Khasim declared, his words sparking quiet murmurs throughout the chamber. “Moreover, the Echoes of Jelt suspect that this route is primarily focused on the concealed transportation of illicit magical artifacts and potentially even dissidents.”

The crowd’s quiet murmurs immediately broke out into a cacophony of shocked exclamations. Especially as the Duchy of Arbasel was the most well-known member of the faction opposing Eldamir’s royal family as well as the home of the Empire’s illustrious Veilspire Academy.

Zareth had a fairly solid grasp on Eldamiri history since he really did enjoy reading about the past of the fantasy world he lived in. Especially when it helped level [Atavistic Apostle].

The Duchy of Arbasel had been a pain in the Eldamiri royal family’s eye for centuries, as the ruling family preferred if Veilspire Academy and its many powerful [Archmages] were safely nestled in the capital where they could be watched. Even worse, the Cult of the Unfettered One had once had a significant presence in the Duchy before being nearly wiped out during one of Eldamir’s bloodier civil wars.

Suffice to say, anything related to the Duchy of Arbasel was a political landmine that no sane person would involve themselves with lightly.

The uproar, underscored by the quietly furious glares of the Eldamari [Knights], persisted for a minute before Nasrith restored order and called the room back to attention.

“Enough,” Nasrith thundered, his voice cutting through the cacophony like a blade. The room immediately fell silent, though the tension was palpable. “This matter is too grave to be left unexamined. I propose an immediate inquiry into the accusations against House Khrysar with the cooperation of our Eldamiri guests to ensure impartiality. Assuming, of course, that the Silent Crusade is willing to offer their assistance.”

Dame Isolde’s expression was colder than ice, her words clipped and deliberate. “Our Order is willing. Hapocrate demands justice, and his Resplendent Majesty will require an explanation for this insult.”

A collective shudder rippled through the ranks of the Tal’Qamari assembly. Emperor Valthorin the Resplendent was… one of the more dangerous [Emperors] to ascend the Eldamari throne in recent history, having done so by winning a power struggle that was brutal even by the infamously unstable empire’s standards.

He’d even managed to keep his throne for more than fifteen years without being killed, which was no small feat!

Tal’Qamar could maybe afford to offend Eldamir if there was a weak Ruler and the offense was relatively minor, but with someone like Valthorin on the throne, the power differential was simply too great. The plan to leverage Eldamir against House Khrysar had nearly been abandoned when Nasrith grasped the extent of what Khasim knew and how much it could backfire on Tal’Qamar. But in the end, the general’s ambition had won out.

“In light of the gravity of these accusations, I propose that House Khrysar be suspended from its voting privileges on this Commission until the inquiry is concluded,” said Nasrith, fully seizing the opportunity that had been so carefully arranged. “This is to ensure impartiality and prevent undue influence on the investigation.”

The chamber erupted into murmurs and whispers once again. Though some voiced token opposition, most nodded in agreement. The evidence was too damning, the potential consequences too severe to ignore. Even Sylthana’s staunchest allies remained silent, unwilling to draw attention to themselves.

When the chamber quieted, Nasrith turned his gaze to Sylthana. “Matriarch Sylthana, do you have anything to say in your defense before we proceed?”

For a moment, she said nothing, the eerie silence stretching unbearably as all eyes turned toward her. Then, slowly, she lifted her head, her piercing gaze locking onto Zareth with a cold intensity that sent a shiver down his spine. Zareth fought the instinct to flinch as his third eye showed a shimmering and ominous aura around Sylthana for a moment before it suddenly disappeared.

What the hell was that?

Her lips curled into a faint, unsettling smile before she turned her attention back to Nasrith.

“I have nothing to say,” she replied evenly, her voice devoid of emotion. “You’ve orchestrated this farce too perfectly. I have been outplayed.”

Zareth couldn’t help but feel some of his vindictive satisfaction fade at Sylthana’s response. He would’ve much preferred if she’d yelled and screamed as he had come to expect from the fiery matriarch. Instead, there was something about her that seemed… strange.

Zareth scrutinized her intensely through the [Eye of Cerebon], searching for any anomalies, but found nothing unusual.

She probably just used [Regulate Emotions], Zareth thought to himself as he reluctantly forced himself to relax.

“My, my. Such grace in defeat, Sylthana. Perhaps you’ve learned something after all,” Marilith drawled mockingly.

Sylthana did not rise to the bait, her composed expression unmoving. Nasrith shot Marilith a warning glance before speaking again. “The proposal stands: House Khrysar is to be suspended from voting on this Commission until the investigation is resolved. Let us move to a vote.”

When the roll call began, the outcome was inevitable. None of the Great Houses or Guilds dared to openly oppose the motion at the risk of offending Eldamir. Moreover, few of them actually wanted to, given that Khasim had revealed that House Khrysar had transgressed against nearly all of them at one point or another.

“House Kavasa supports the motion,” said Sevek, the golem’s tone as impassive as always.

“House Vhelan votes in favor of the motion,” Lady Marilith said with a satisfied smile. “It’s only natural that we should investigate these grave accusations so that none can say that our Great Houses are dishonorable or complicit in crimes.”

Zareth hurriedly covered up a laugh at Marilith’s barefaced sarcasm. He really was starting to like the old woman.

“House Seradis… supports the motion as well,” Selkan said reluctantly, his voice laced with barely concealed irritation at being outmaneuvered.

“House Zarqet votes in favor,” Lord Valthor said tersely.

“The motion passes,” General Nasrith announced after the final vote was cast, his voice firm and authoritative. “As Ruler of Tal’Qamar, I formally accept the Oversight Commission’s decision to launch an investigation into House Khrysar’s alleged criminal activities and rescind their voting privileges in this body until such a time that the investigation has concluded.”

The declaration hung in the air, a heavy punctuation to one of the Great Houses falling from political grace. House Khrysar had suffered a very real blow to both its prestige and its power. Depending on the results of the investigation, it could very well prove to be the beginning of something genuinely debilitating.

Oh, Zareth had no delusions that this investigation alone was an existential threat to House Khrysar’s position. The Great Houses were simply too entrenched in Tal’Qamar and had too many trump cards locked away in their coffers to go down without bringing the city-state to ruin. However, Zareth and his allies had accomplished something truly significant by cracking the armor of one of Tal’Qamar’s most powerful families and uprooting their political power—if even temporarily.

An achievement that was about to be richly awarded.

“With that, I call upon this Commission to deliberate on the motion previously tabled,” General Nasrith stated with deliberate precision, ensuring no opportunity for interruption. “The inclusion of the Hierophant’s Council as a recognized entity with a permanent seat on this body. I believe that we now have a clearer understanding of the value this institution brings to Tal’Qamar’s governance and defense. They have demonstrated both initiative and capability by securing a strategic foothold in the Shifting Expanse while uncovering threats of profound significance to our nation’s stability. If such actions do not merit a seat on this Commission, then I challenge this assembly to define what does. I propose we proceed to a vote without delay.”

The votes split just as Zareth had anticipated; everyone voted along the same factional lines that they had started with. This meant that with House Khrysar no longer in the picture, the final result was a tie that fell on General Nasrith to break according to Tal’Qamari law.

“The motion to grant the Hierophant’s Council a permanent seat to this body has passed by majority vote,” General Nasrith declared, his serpentine eyes glimmering with obvious satisfaction.

With one more vote secured for his faction, High Command would have a much easier time securing their objectives. The subsequent motion to consolidate power in the military may as well be a foregone conclusion.

General Nasrith’s gaze swept across the chamber, before finally settling on Zareth. “Now that the Hierophant’s Council has been granted a seat on this Commission, one question remains. Who among your number will represent your interests and lead your voice in this assembly?”

The question was largely preformative, as pretty much everyone could already guess the answer. But Zareth still allowed himself to savor the moment when all eyes turned to him, as his heart began to race—not with fear, but with exhilaration.

Memories surged in his mind, unbidden yet vivid. The fetid alleys of the Sunrise Slums where he’d once scavenged for scraps just to survive. The nights spent nursing wounds inflicted by both enemies and supposed allies, praying that he wouldn’t die of a simple infection. The desperation he’d felt when his closest friends turned on him, as well as the blinding hope that he had felt when that [Cultist] had first handed him the tome of Cerebon.

Slowly growing his cult, surviving multiple assassination attempts, and gathering the right allies to support him had all led him to this very moment. One that would see him—a former insignificant [Street Urchin] who was once not even fit to become a [Servant] to many of the people in this room—claim a seat among Tal’Qamar’s ruling elite.

The taste of victory was the most intoxicating thing that Zareth had ever experienced.

Zareth carefully hid his euphoria behind a calm mask as he stepped forward. “I, Zareth, leader of the Cult of Cerebon and representative of the Hierophant’s Council, accept this responsibility.”

Chapter 23

There were few who understood the true weight of legacy.

Those who were exceptionally short-sighted would simply gaze upon Tal’Qamar’s illustrious families and see only their wealth, mistaking it for the source of their power. It was a foolish notion, yet perhaps excusable among those for whom the pursuit of gold marked the pinnacle of ambition.

Those with a touch more insight, who were not impoverished paupers or greedy [Merchants], might instead believe that power stemmed from capable servants and subordinates. They might imagine that their power arose from the high-leveled [House Guards], [Indentured Warriors], or [Assassins] who would willingly kill the enemies of the Great Houses and further their influence. Or they might point to the extraordinarily competent [Stewards] and [Chamberlains] who managed the great web of obligations, alliances, and resources with a precision that bordered on miraculous.

Those who were a bit more politically astute might argue that true power lay in influence and control over institutions. They would argue that the Great Houses had so thoroughly shaped Tal’Qamar in their image over the past several centuries that they had become irrevocably interwoven with the city’s very identity. The laws that governed its people, the trade routes that carried its wealth, and even the cultural traditions that defined its festivals and ceremonies had all been crafted to ensure the dominance and prosperity of its elites. To attempt to separate the two would be akin to unraveling Tal’Qamar itself.

All of these understandings were true in their own way, but they only touched on the fragments of a much larger truth. Wealth, capable servants, and institutional influence were all very important to the continued prosperity of the Great Houses, but House Khrysar did not consider any of these to be the true foundation of their power.

No, Matriarch Sylthana knew that her house’s greatest strength lay in something far more enduring.

Legacy.

For most, legacy was a nebulous concept that might mean the preservation of a family name, the accumulation of wealth, or the construction of monuments to stand the test of time. But for House Khrysar, legacy existed in a much more… tangible form.

So tangible, in fact, that Sylthana was dreading her upcoming meeting with House Khrysar’s “legacy” as she exited the nondescript yet heavily enchanted carriage that had transported her from Tal’Qamar to the Viscounty of Jelt.

Damn it all. How did it come to this? Sylthana wondered with a growing dread. When was it that everything started falling apart?

She was not only about to attend a meeting that could very well cost her life, but she was also forced to wear a ring imbued with [Greater Concealment] and cloaked by some of the finest anti-scrying measures money could buy, all while sneaking into one of her family’s grandest Eldamiri holdings like a common criminal!

Someone like her should be able to travel proudly wherever they please, yet it was only due to her House’s long-standing relationship with the local nobles that these holdings hadn’t already been seized outright by the damned Silent Crusade at the request of Tal’Qamar’s military! A tremendous amount of bribes had ensured that such a disgraceful outcome would not come to pass any time soon, but there were undoubtedly countless [Spies] from House Khrysar’s enemies currently watching the situation like hawks.

If Sylthana was actually seen anywhere near the Viscounty of Jelt after her ties to the local Assassins Guilds had been publicly revealed to every faction with an interest in undermining her House, the consequences would be catastrophic. If she had a choice in the matter, she would have ordered every bit of incriminating evidence against her purged from this place and would have avoided approaching anything related to the Viscounty of Jelt for the next decade.

But choices, as of late, had been a rare luxury.

Because the person that House Khrysar owed its very existence to had ordered that Sylthana meet them in person. She’d strongly requested that they meet in Tal’Qamar, but that had been summarily denied for reasons that nobody had deigned to explain to her.

She had suspicions, of course, but it hardly mattered. And when he made a decision, refusal was not an option.

As Sylthana passed through the wards protecting the manor that served as one of her House’s primary strongholds in Eldamir, she idly noted the somewhat alarming number of dwarf and human [Servants]. Among the lesser races, she much preferred the well-trained and carefully bred lizardkin who had served her House for centuries over the rest of the rabble throughout Valandor.

It was fortunate that she’d chosen to bring her personal [Seneschal] to attend her during this critical visit. His presence was a great reassurance, though one which was starting to grow smaller and smaller with every passing moment as she made her way to her potential ruination.

“Have you managed to gain any insight into his thoughts regarding the… recent events at the Oversight Commission?” Sylthana asked as soon as she passed through the manor’s foyer, trying her hardest to keep the desperation from her voice. “Surely your skill has noticed something now that we’ve arrived.”

It tore at Sylthana to even reference the humiliation that her House had faced just a few days ago, but she couldn’t afford to let her pride dictate her actions. Her House’s patron did not suffer fools, and Sylthana was self-aware enough to realize that she was treading on precarious ground. If he ever came to believe that House Khrysar would be better served by a new leader… then her corpse wouldn’t even be cold before another member of her house took her place.

“No, Matriarch. I beg your forgiveness,” Vryzak replied solemnly, his demeanor as professional as always despite the dire circumstances. The lizardkin, his scales graying with age, had served Sylthana loyally for most of her life and was one of her most trusted subordinates. “My [Household Intuition] suggests that the Living Legacy is still… acclimating to his latest vessel. However, my skills may falter when attempting to discern the thoughts of someone possessing such extraordinary power.”

“Can your skills sense him now?” Sylthana asked lightly.

“Yes, Matriarch. He is currently residing in the gardens,” said Vryzak, a rare tone of unease in his voice. “His presence is… quite overwhelming.”

“Then I sincerely doubt your skills are being intentionally obstructed,” Sylthana said confidently.

[Household Intuition] was an incredibly convenient high-level skill that allowed her seneschal to subtly glean the collective knowledge and observations of the [Servants] working on her House’s properties. If any of them had noticed House Khrysar’s Living Legacy’ reacting to her recent setbacks, the reaction should have been noted in the vague impressions that Vryzak’s skill allowed him to gather.

As for the suggestion that he would act to counter her [Seneschal]’s skill, he could obviously do so, but Sylthana sincerely doubted he would deign to do so.

A dragon does not give thought to the ants beneath its claws, after all.

Curse him! I cannot believe that I’ve been pushed so far because of that wretched gutter-born human, Sylthana thought as she gritted her teeth in anger. If I survive this, then I swear on my life that I will find a way to remove his limbs permanently and sell him to a Choantini [Cannibal]! Him and the rest of his cursed cult.

She knew that General Nasrith, the cursed hag from House Vhelan, and that treacherous traitor Kassan were also to blame for her misfortunes, but at least they were naga. Sylthana wasn’t certain if her reputation would ever recover among Tal’Qamar’s elite after being so thoroughly humiliated by one of those sand-eating humans of all things, much less one who had been born into the lowest dregs of society.

The very thought made her scales itch with indignation.

Though she couldn’t afford to worry about that now. Not when she was about to meet one of the most powerful individuals in the world.

Sylthana slithered through the halls of the manor as she made her way to the garden. Her sharp gaze flitted from the exquisitely detailed frescoes to the enchanted chandeliers that bathed the corridor in a soft, golden glow. Yet, as she passed deeper into the estate, the once-bustling halls began to thin out. The ever-present servants, guards, and attendants faded away until she realized she hadn’t seen another soul in nearly a minute.

She knew the reason without needing to ask.

He didn’t need them. No guards to protect him, no servants to attend to his whims. She had only met House Khrysar’s patron a few times, but she knew that he viewed most mortals as merely amusing little ornaments. He rarely had much patience for them in recent decades.

As she entered the corridor leading to the gardens, something unusual caught her attention. A faint vibration in the air. The sound grew clearer as she moved forward. Strings, resonant and mournful, began to hum in harmony. The music was beautiful. Ethereal. It tugged at something deep within her memory, but she pushed the thought away as she passed through the archway that led into the gardens.

Once there, she was momentarily struck speechless as she took in the scene before her.

Sylthana had not had reason to visit the Viscounty of Jelt much over the years, perhaps only on around a dozen occasions over an entire decade. Each time Sylthana visited, she stayed in this manor while addressing whatever unpleasant business had compelled her to this human-infested city—the most recent visit being just six months prior.

Therefore, it stood to reason that she should have had a fairly accurate understanding of what the manor’s garden looked like. Yet, the sight that greeted her now was something entirely different, as though plucked from another world.

Before her stretched a lush, verdant space, far grander than she had expected. It was not the manicured, orderly garden typical of her House’s estates. This place was wild with life—magical plants glowing faintly in the twilight, their luminescence casting a serene, dreamlike glow. Flowers of every hue twisted and turned in impossible patterns, their petals shifting colors with the music. Vines hung like curtains, adorned with crystalline dew that refracted the ambient light into a spectrum of colors.

In the center of it all floated a set of stringed instruments—a lyre, a sitar-like lute, and a naga’s unique curved gusle. They played themselves, each string plucked or bowed by unseen hands. The melody was an ancient naga song, one Sylthana had not heard since her grandmother sang it to her as a child. It told of deserts and seas, of the long journey of their people from water to sand, and the unbroken thread of their legacy.

The music pulled at her, raw and haunting, as if the instruments themselves remembered every sorrow, every triumph of their race. She barely noticed her tail tightening reflexively beneath her, a faint hiss of tension escaping her lips.

And then she saw him.

At the edge of the garden, beneath an ancient, gnarled tree whose roots twisted like great serpents, knelt a child. Or at least, a creature that took the form of one. He was a naga, the scales of his tail pale as moonlight, his small frame delicate yet eerily commanding in a way that no child should be. His features were cherubic, his skin smooth and flawless, as though untouched by time. An androgynous, child-like figure, his large, luminous eyes—an ancient gold that seemed to shimmer with wisdom far beyond his years—focused intently on a dangerous magical plant.

The plant’s tendrils writhed menacingly, its barbs glistening with venom, but the child moved with expert precision, trimming a wayward thorn here, coaxing a stubborn tendril there. It obeyed him.

Sylthana’s breath hitched. She glided forward carefully, lowering herself into a deep bow as she began to speak in a voice trembling with reverence. “Forebea⁠—”

A soft, melodic voice cut her off. “Be silent.”

The words were calm, unhurried, and yet they struck with the weight of absolute command. Sylthana’s mouth snapped shut against her will. She lowered her gaze, heart pounding in her chest as she remained bowed.

Sylthana wasn’t quite certain how long she stayed that way, the only sounds being the haunting melody of the instruments and the soft rustling of the garden’s magical flora. After what felt like an eternity, the forebear’s melodic voice finally broke the silence, though he remained focused on the writhing plant before him.

“How familiar are you with the [Gardener] class and its various Evolutions, Matriarch?”

By all the gods, why would I ever give the slightest thought to such a thing? Sylthana’s mind recoiled at the absurdity of the question, though she was careful not to let such thoughts show. “I am… not intimately familiar with the class, Forebear.”

“Disappointing, though hardly unexpected,” said the forebear, his tone carrying only the slightest trace of condescension. “Still, it would be hypocritical of me to scorn your ignorance. It was not a topic I myself gave much thought to—until my seventh [Profane Reincarnation] happened to inhabit a member of our bloodline who possessed the class that I truly saw its beauty.”

Sylthana bit the inside of her cheek to hide the familiar trace of fear that never failed to arise at mention of the forebear’s most well-known skill. She’d privately spent many years as a child terrified that she’d one day wake up with his spirit within her own body, threatening to slowly subsume her.

It was a fear that she’d never dared voice aloud, as such a fate was meant to be an immense honor and solemn duty within House Khrysar. Thankfully, the forebear’s most recent reincarnation had targeted some irrelevant third son of a minor branch family, a child whose existence only mattered now that he’d been chosen for something greater.

“Among all the classes that I’ve experienced in my many lives, [Gardener] is one of my heart’s most cherished,” the forebear continued, his golden eyes fixed on the venomous plant as his hands deftly worked its tendrils into submission. “It is one that requires patience, vision, and an unwavering will to impose order upon chaos. Every thorn, every errant vine, every parasitic weed must be removed if the garden is to thrive.”

Sylthana’s tail tensed beneath her, her head still bowed low. She dared not move, dared not speak. The weight of his words pressed down on her, heavy with implication.

“You see, Matriarch,” he said, his voice soft yet piercing, “a garden is not merely a collection of plants. It is a microcosm of order. Every leaf and flower has its place. Every root serves a purpose. But weeds… weeds are a different matter. Weeds do not understand their place. They take more than they give. They strangle the life from their betters, blind to the harm they cause.”

He paused, his hand hovering over a particularly unruly vine. “It is a regrettable reality. All living things have their own beauty and uniqueness. It is no fault of their own that their nature compels them to harm, yet harm they do. And so it falls to the [Gardener] to act with both compassion and resolve. To decide what must be nurtured and what must be removed.”

With a single, fluid motion, he brushed his palm against the tendril, which thrashed violently for a brief moment before inexplicably shriveling into lifelessness.

The forebear finally turned his gaze toward her, and Sylthana felt as though her soul was laid bare before him. His golden eyes shimmered with an ancient light, a timeless wisdom that felt utterly alien.

“House Khrysar is a garden that I’ve carefully cultivated since before our people sailed through the Sapphire Sea and first arrived on Valandor’s shores, and you have caused it harm,” said the forebear, the last word dripping with a quiet intensity that sent a shiver down Sylthana’s spine. “Please convince me that the consequences of that should be borne from compassion and nurturing, rather than resolve and removal.”

Sylthana struggled to keep her composure as she felt the full weight of his words settle over her. The forebear was not one for idle threats or meaningless displays.

Sylthana understood that her next words would determine the course of her life—or lack thereof—and the future of her House.

Her tail trembled slightly as she straightened her posture, still keeping her gaze respectfully lowered. “Forebear,” she began, her voice steady despite the storm of fear raging inside her, “you have cultivated this garden with unparalleled wisdom, ensuring that House Khrysar thrives even in the harshest of conditions. I would never presume to question your methods, nor the truths you hold self-evident. But I humbly submit that the harm we have suffered from this recent setback is not irreparable and was caused by several important aspects of our enemies that we had previously overlooked. We will not do so in the future.”

She couldn’t tell from his expression how the forebear felt about her response, but he at least seemed interested in listening further.

“Oh? Truly?” the forebear drawled, his golden eyes narrowing slightly. “Then please, Matriarch. Feel free to explain what great wisdom you’ve gleaned from your failures.”

Sylthana couldn’t help but flinch as the forebear emphasized her role in this debacle. It’d been decades since anyone had dared castigate her so directly, but she quickly suppressed the instinct to recoil. This was not the time for pride or defensiveness.

“House Vhelan’s alliance with General Nasrith was already known to us, but we were unaware how far she would go to undermine our influence,” said Sylthana, her tail coiling tighter as she tried to compose herself. “By allowing High Command to centralize their power, Marilith has struck at centuries of precedent and undermined the Great House’s authority in Tal’Qamar. I’d not expected her to be so… shortsighted!”

Sylthana hesitated, uncertain if her point was being received with the gravity she intended. The forebear’s expression remained unreadable, his golden eyes watching her as if she were no more than an insect struggling against the weight of a stone.

She pressed on, trying to mask her growing unease. “House Kavasa’s willingness to go along with House Vhelan’s machinations is equally baffling. To concede even a fraction of their autonomy to the military leadership defies logic. They’ve always prized independence above all else, and they have little influence in the military outside of their [Warmages]. This… this must be some intricate plot designed to weaken us further.”

The silence that followed her words stretched unbearably long. The forebear did not speak, did not move. Sylthana’s heart pounded against her ribs, and her hands tightened into fists at her sides. She bit her lip, the sharp sting grounding her, though it did little to dispel the suffocating tension in the air.

Finally, she continued, her voice slightly strained. “And the Order of the Serene Path—those damned monks from Great Mu—they’ve never operated so far from their borders before. It’s unprecedented! Their mind manipulation skills were unknown to us given Great Mu’s extreme isolation. Their ability to turn our House’s assets against us was… not a capability that I had accounted for. The audacity of Great Mu to meddle in our affairs…” Sylthana trailed off, her scales itching with anger as the words tumbled out.

Her gaze flicked briefly toward the forebear, searching for some reaction to her complaints. Yet there was still none.

Her tail lashed faintly behind her, betraying her rising agitation. “And the Circle of Ghisara,” she hissed, her tone turning venomous. “That treacherous snake, Kassan. I should have seen it coming. After decades of cooperation, I was complacent. I trusted him, thought him a useful ally. I should have dealt with him long ago.” Her voice dropped to a near-growl. “Him and that cursed human from the Cult of Cerebon. Far too clever for his own good. I swear to you, Forebear, I will do everything in my power to see them dead and this insul⁠—”

“Enough.”

The single word was calm, yet it carried the weight of finality. Sylthana’s voice died in her throat as if the air itself had been stripped from her lungs. She froze, her tail tensing beneath her as the forebear slowly rose from his position beneath the ancient tree.

“You disappoint me, Sylthana.”

The words were spoken softly, but the sting was sharper than any blade. Sylthana’s body stiffened, her instinct to bow further in submission battling against the urge to recoil. She felt as though the ground beneath her might give way at any moment.

“I asked you to convince me that you were worthy of leading House Khrysar,” the forebear said, slithering forward with deliberate, measured movements. “Yet all I hear are excuses and misplaced fury. You speak of betrayals, unforeseen threats, and the audacity of others to challenge you—but not once have you reflected on your own failings. If you are betrayed, then it is your responsibility to have anticipated the betrayal. If there are unforeseen threats, then it is proof that you lack the foresight required of your station. If others challenge you, then it is your duty to ensure they regret doing so.”

Further silence. The garden too seemed to hold its breath, the faint melody of the instruments stretching thin in the still air. Sylthana’s scales prickled, her mind racing with the weight of his words. She could feel her heart pounding as the silence grew unbearable, a mounting tension pressing down on her chest. Was this it? Was she about to be cast aside, erased from existence as easily as one pruned a dying vine?

Her tail tightened involuntarily, coiling beneath her like a serpent preparing to strike—or flee.

And then, the forebear broke the silence.

“Perhaps,” he mused, his voice soft yet carrying an air of exasperation, “it would be easier to simply replace you.” He paused, letting the words hang in the air like a blade poised to fall. Sylthana’s breath caught in her throat, her mind reeling. “But then again, anyone I replace you with would likely be just as inept.”

Sylthana’s head shot up, startled at her sudden stay of execution. The forebear didn’t even seem to notice, his golden eyes somewhat unfocused as he seemed to look off into the distance.

“The fault,” he continued, his tone introspective, “does not rest entirely with you, Matriarch. I have allowed this House to languish in mediocrity for too long. I’ve had good reason to focus my attention away from Tal’Qamar, but I shouldn’t expect mere children to carry the weight of a legacy they barely understand.”

It was more than a little strange hearing such words from someone who wore the appearance of an actual child, but Sylthana paid that little attention. Instead, she took the opportunity to express her gratitude for the apparent stay of execution. “Thank you, Forebear. Your wisdom humbles me. With your guidance, I swear I will rise to meet the expectations that this House deserves.”

The forebear gave a soft, almost dismissive sigh as he turned back toward the gnarled tree. “Words, Sylthana. Promises and platitudes. I have heard them all before, across countless lifetimes and countless leaders. But I will indeed grace you with my wisdom, so listen closely. This is no small boon.”

Sylthana didn’t dare interrupt him, nor even breathe too loudly, as she waited for him to continue. She remained still, her body coiled tightly beneath her as the forebear turned away from her once more and fell into a deep silence that lasted uncomfortably long. For a moment, Sylthana even had the strange thought that the forebear had inexplicably forgotten her and the conversation might end there.

But then, something changed.

The air around the forebear began to shift, an unnatural ripple that made Sylthana’s scales itch as if her very soul was reacting to something it could not comprehend. The edges of his form blurred and distorted, like a reflection on the smooth surface of water shattered by a sudden droplet. Colors that had no name flickered in and out of reality, and for a moment, it seemed as if the childlike figure of the forebear was splintering.

Sylthana felt the pit of her stomach twist as she glimpsed something impossible—a kaleidoscope of forms flashing into existence for the briefest of moments before vanishing. One moment he was a towering naga warrior, his scales the color of molten gold, adorned with battle scars and wielding a blade wreathed in fire. The next, he was a stooped lizardkin shaman, his eyes clouded with cataracts as he clutched a staff carved from bone. Then, a serpent, made entirely of translucent light, coiled and twisted in his place, its golden gaze locking with hers before disappearing.

Each transformation lasted no more than a heartbeat, yet they burned themselves into Sylthana’s mind with vivid clarity. And through it all, the distorted form of the child remained, flickering in and out like a dying flame struggling against the storm of identities.

Finally, the chaos subsided, and the figure before her solidified into something else entirely.

It was an elderly naga matron, but not one Sylthana could mistake for any mortal being. Her form was too perfect, too deliberate, as though sculpted by a master artist who had imbued every scale and every curve with the essence of command.

The only commonality this new form had with the child that stood before Sylthana just moments ago was the same piercing, golden gaze.

“Ah,” said the forebear, hi—her voice now that of a refined matron, rich and layered with centuries of wisdom. Yet beneath it was something else—a faint echo of the countless other voices Sylthana had glimpsed in those moments of transformation. “It has been some time since we have worn this face. It never fails to surprise us how clear our mind becomes once we become the [Grand Strategist]. The System is truly a remarkably convenient construct. It is a shame that [Profane Reincarnation] only allows us to don this form temporarily and that we had only barely achieved our third Class Evolution before perishing. How pitiful.”

Sylthana couldn’t help but smirk bitterly at the forebear’s words. If anyone else were to refer to the act of achieving their third Class Evolution as “pitiful,” she would have found it an absurd boast. Yet from them, it was nothing but truth. A being who had reincarnated countless times, gaining power and knowledge with each new existence, could indeed consider such a thing inadequate.

Sylthana was overcome by a conflicting surge of reverence and revulsion—the former born from the sheer awe of witnessing House Khrysar’s most formidable asset in its full, unsettling glory. [Profane Reincarnation] was a skill unlike any other that Sylthana had heard of, allowing the user to transcend death itself and carry forward both power and wisdom by possessing the bodies of their descendants. The forebear could then call upon these past lives and wield the class and skills that they had earned during their time in the world.

The sheer versatility of this ability was terrifying. Especially when one considered just how adept the forebear had become in leveling new classes over his lifetimes—acquiring secrets, resources, and new insights that no single mortal could ever hope to achieve.

Sylthana knew that there were plenty of individuals out there in the world who were monstrously powerful, but she truly thought that the forebear was a uniquely terrifying existence.

But the latter emotion—the instinctive offense she felt at witnessing the forebear shift forms—didn’t stem from that. Instead, it arose from a profound sense that she was looking at something deeply unnatural, though she couldn’t quite explain why.

Sylthana tried her best to dismiss the reaction, but as she continued to watch the forebear’s now-feminine form settle into itself, the sensation of repulsion did not fade.

And for some reason, it did not feel like her own.

Sylthana’s tongue flickered out instinctively, her mind racing to make sense of the foreign revulsion pressing at the edges of her awareness. The sensation was distant, like an echo, but it was there. Someone—something—was displeased.

But then, just as quickly as it had come, the feeling was gone. The weight lifted. The moment passed.

Sylthana remained silent, her mind a swirl of barely contained thoughts. The forebear, however, did not appear to notice—or if they did, they did not care. It took far longer than Sytlhana would have liked to realize that the forebear was speaking.

“We will help you form a plan,” the forebear said at last, their voice now decisive and unyielding. They flicked a hand through the air, as if dismissing a troublesome thought. “Our plans are too close to fruition to accept such a hindrance. Even a weed-choked garden can be salvaged, given enough care. The first step is ensuring the rot does not spread further.”

Sylthana bowed her head in acknowledgment, though she noted the way the forebear’s gaze flickered away from her, unfocused and dismissive.

“We must account for the Circle of Ghisara’s precognition…” they murmured, almost to themself, golden eyes narrowing. “Ensuring our direct intervention does not escalate the other Great Houses into action will require… subtlety. That troublesome [Archmage] from House Kavasa will notice if we approach Tal’Qamar… Could one of our stealthier forms feasibly? No. Too much divine attention on the city, and these new deities are doubtlessly watching their mortal pets more closely than the Conclave. Though… it may be wise to wait for our enemies to lead us closer to the System Nexus before we act. But how should…”

Sylthana remained quiet as she realized that the Forebear had largely forgotten her, already sinking deeper into whatever labyrinthine schemes occupied their mind. Sylthana did not understand much of the Forebear’s words, nor did she think it wise to dwell on the matter when there was a chance she would learn something that she was better off not knowing.

It was around the time that the Forebear murmured something about contacting Idraxan the Mad—what?!—that she decided to meekly excuse herself. The Forebear gave a slight, dismissive wave of their hand as Sylthana quietly began making her way out of the garden. It was only when she’d finally left the Forebear’s presence and Vryzak came running to her side that she allowed herself to slump in relief, grateful that she’d survived with her life intact.

Although, as Sylthana recalled the look in the Forebear’s eyes as they had lost themselves in their musings, she realized that her survival was due to no great act of mercy. No, she was just lucky that the Forebear had found herself a more appealing target for their ire.

For the first time in centuries, House Khrysar would unleash its full might upon its enemies—and remind everyone what it truly meant to defy a Great House.

Zareth had spent over two decades in one of the harshest climates on Valandor, but the Shifting Expanse redefined the very meaning of the word desolation.

The ground beneath him was not still—it shifted in slow, deliberate undulations, betraying the presence of the Living Sands just beneath the surface. Their movements were silent yet omnipresent, an eerie reminder that even in this place of utter desolation, something still endured.

Yet nothing else did. The sky stretched above him in a washed-out expanse of white, the relentless sun bleeding all color from the world. There were no distant shapes on the horizon or jagged rock formations to break the monotony—only this vast, seething wasteland that stretched endlessly in every direction. Not even the hardiest desert flora had taken root here. No twisted acacias clinging stubbornly to life. No brittle shrubs nestled between dunes. No scavengers circled above, for there was no carrion to find.

The very air was still, thick with a weight that pressed down on his bones. It was not merely the suffocating heat nor the exhaustion that clawed at his limbs. It was the weight of magic—deep, old, and nearly overwhelming.

The Shifting Expanse had more than earned its infamous reputation, a fact that had not gone unnoticed by Zareth’s companions.

“Is this… truly the best place to build a city?” Rizok asked dubiously as his grip tightened on his sword, a distrustful gaze directed to the rippling sands beneath their feet. “I feel as if we may have made a few miscalculations in our assessment of this land’s viability.”

“I agree,” said Vidhatri, her four eyes scanning the horizon warily. “Even the jungles of Zumair are more hospitable than these forsaken lands. Are you certain that living here is wise?”

Fuck no. I’m already regretting every decision I’ve ever made, Zareth thought as a bead of sweat rolled down his nictitating membrane. How is it possible that there’s somewhere on this planet even hotter than Tal’Qamar?!

But naturally, he was already far too invested in this location and couldn’t be seen to be wavering now, so he forced himself to relax and smile before responding.

“Of course I’m certain. This place is perfect,” Zareth lied with the practiced ease of someone who had long mastered the art of feigning confidence. “Challenging? Certainly. Inhospitable? Without a doubt. A cursed wasteland teeming with angry elementals that makes me feel like I’m being slow-roasted in one of Gurza’s ovens? Absolutely. And that’s precisely what makes it perfect—no one in their right mind would ever try to invade us and steal everything we’ve built out here.”

Zareth’s words hung in the stifling air, swallowed by the vast, empty horizon. His companions exchanged skeptical glances while their Desharin escort—Priestess Farida herself—let out a bemused chuckle before speaking. “I always suspected you were touched in the head, boy, but this confirms it. No water, no game to hunt, and the spirits are more restless here than anywhere else in the Great Desert. If it weren’t for me, they’d have devoured your scrawny hide long ago. Even at the zenith of our strength, my people steered clear of this forsaken place.”

Jeez. Way to be encouraging…

Zareth sighed, rubbing the back of his neck as the dry wind clawed at his skin. “You agreed to this plan for a reason, Priestess,” he pointed out, tilting his head toward Farida. “You wouldn’t have come along if you didn’t think it had merit.”

Farida snorted, deep lines of amusement etching across her weathered face. “Aye, boy, you’re not wrong. We’ve already weighed the risks, and even I can admit your reasoning holds water.” She cast a sharp gaze over the desolate expanse before them. “But that doesn’t mean you’re not completely mad for thinking this place is fit for settling.”

A few of the other Desharin in their escort murmured in agreement, their expressions ranging from wary respect to outright skepticism. Zareth couldn’t exactly blame them.

No oasis, no shade—just an endless expanse of shimmering death. They couldn’t even afford to take the pack animals because something about the Shifting Expanse—aside from the obvious—scared them off. There was a reason why even the most desperate wanderers avoided this place like a plague. And if he was being entirely honest with himself, if the leyline nexus hadn’t been here and was absolutely necessary for the Seed of Creation to take root, he wouldn’t have bothered either.

“How much farther?” he asked, his voice just slightly hoarse from the dry air. “I can sense the magic growing more dense with every step, so we must be close.”

Farida didn’t answer immediately. Instead, their group continued on in silence for several more minutes before she finally crested a small dune with an ease that belied her age and pointed toward an empty stretch of sand ahead.

“There,” she said simply.

Zareth squinted against the glare, following the direction of her outstretched hand. He saw nothing. Just more gods-forsaken sand. He’d expected something… a bit more exceptional from the location of a leyline nexus. Perhaps a crystalline spire jutting from the desert or an ancient, half-buried ruin crackling with latent energy.

He opened his mouth to argue but then closed it before he could make a fool of himself. There was only one way to be sure.

Slowly, he inhaled, steadying himself, and activated the [Eye of Cerebon].

The world shifted.

Ether surged into his vision like a second sun had dawned beneath the earth, a dense, pulsing mass of magic coiled in the sands. The leyline nexus was enormous, its raw power bleeding into the surrounding terrain and creating a distortion in reality itself. Even with his experience in manipulating Ether, the sheer concentration made his skin prickle and his breath quicken.

But that wasn’t all.

Lurking just beneath the surface of the nexus, coiled in the depths like some primordial beast waiting to stir, was the largest Living Sands elemental he had ever seen. The thing was incomprehensibly vast, stretching far beyond the edges of his sight. Its form was amorphous yet deliberately shifting in slow, ponderous undulations as though the desert itself was drawing breath.

Zareth’s throat went dry.

He exhaled sharply, dismissing the [Eye of Cerebon] before his mind could buckle under the sheer enormity of what he was perceiving. His vision returned to normal, but the knowledge of what lurked beneath their feet remained.

“How,” Zareth started, forcing his voice to remain level, “are we supposed to defeat something like that?”

He had no doubt that she knew exactly what he was referring to. The Desharin had forgotten more about the Qahtani Desert than most people had ever learned, and a creature like this would have never escaped their notice.

Farida scoffed, shooting him a look of exasperation. “Defeat it? Boy, you really do know nothing of the Spirits.” She turned to face the shifting sands with a reverence that made Zareth feel like a fool for even asking. “You do not fight something like that. You survive it. Or, if you are wise, you ask it to leave.”

Zareth frowned, glancing at the shifting dunes. “And if it refuses?”

Farida let out a dry chuckle. “Then you die.”

Lovely…

He opened his mouth to protest, but she raised a hand to silence him. “Fortunately, I have no intention of letting that happen.” She straightened her stance, her old bones creaking as she took a slow step forward. “The Cult of Cerebon chose to ally with the Priesthood of Silvaris for a reason, Apostle Zareth. Let an old woman earn her keep.”

There was no flashy ceremony, no extravagant display of power. Farida simply placed her palm against the shifting sands and closed her eyes. For a long moment, nothing happened. The desert remained still, the wind whispering against the dunes in quiet defiance of their presence.

Then, the earth rumbled, and the desert answered.

The dunes trembled as a great tide of sand rose into the air, swirling in vast, towering waves. The elemental stirred, its massive, shapeless form shifting in response to Farida’s call. It did not rage or lash out. Instead, it began to move, as if a great hand had brushed across its surface, redirecting its course. The impossible weight of it shifted, flowing like a river in reverse, carrying entire dunes along with it.

A sandstorm without wind. A tsunami of dust and earth rolling into the horizon, reshaping the very landscape as it went.

Zareth watched in stunned silence as the elemental departed, the leyline nexus now bare and unguarded. Farida exhaled heavily, her body sagging as she planted her staff into the ground for support. Sweat glistened on her brow, but her expression was one of quiet triumph.

“Well,” Rizok muttered, his tone betraying his awe. “That was… quite a sight.”

Vidhatri, usually unreadable, looked just as impressed. “To move a being of that magnitude without conflict… these nomads are worthy allies of Cerebon. For heathens.”

Zareth exhaled slowly as his nerves settled, though a lingering sense of conflict remained. He had always understood that the Priesthood of Silvaris and the Way of Gendal were no slouches—they wouldn’t have survived for centuries otherwise—but witnessing it firsthand was an entirely different matter. It didn’t escape his notice that if Farida could send such a massive elemental away, then she could quite likely turn the same creature against him if their alliance soured—which she undoubtedly wanted him to know.

Zareth glanced over and nodded toward the too smug old woman as she panted lightly from the exertion, a knowing gleam in her eye.

Message received, you nasty old fossil, Zareth thought wryly.

But on the other hand, having such a powerful ally was also very comforting given how many enemies he seemed to be making. Especially when the Priesthood of Silvaris was just as invested in the success of Nisrahad as Zareth and his cult.

Speaking of which, I think it’s time that we get this show on the road.

Zareth took a deep breath, steadying himself. He had battled monsters, evaded assassins, outmaneuvered scheming nobles, and uncovered secrets known to only a rare few in this world. Yet this moment, more than any other, felt like the culmination of everything he had struggled for since leaving the Sunrise Slums.

The moment when he would create something entirely his own and secure a fate beyond what the powers of Tal’Qamar had in store for him. Oh, he was under no delusions that he would immediately establish some grand utopia in the desert and be free of all his shackles. There were too many powerful people who he would need to rely on for Nisrahad to belong to the Cult of Cerebon alone.

But… that wouldn’t be the case forever.

Zareth gathered himself, nodding to his companions before stepping forward. The ground beneath him pulsed with power, the leyline’s energy growing denser, thick like syrup in the air. Each breath he took carried the taste of Ether, raw and untamed, pressing against his senses like an unseen tide.

Once he’d finally reached the center of the Leyline Nexus, Zareth reached into his chest without hesitation. Flesh parted at his command, muscle and sinew shifting as though obeying an unspoken will as he retrieved the Seed of Creation nestled in the hollow of his ribs. It pulsed more brightly with Cerebon’s Divine Essence than ever before, as if in anticipation of what was about to happen.

Zareth took a moment to close his wounds and admire the fruits of his labor before he knelt down and decisively plunged the Seed of Creation as deeply into the ground as he could. Almost immediately, he felt the seed escape his grasp and burrow further into the earth, as if drawn by some unseen force.

Zareth took that as his cue to run away from the spot and return to the rest of the group before turning back to watch the show.

For a breath, nothing happened.

The desert remained as it was—silent, still, an expanse of dust and endless sand. This lasted long enough for doubt to claw at the edges of Zareth’s mind, an instant of panic bubbling to the surface.

Then, the world exhaled.

A tremor ran through the sands, subtle at first but growing into a deep, resonant pulse that sent grains of sand skittering across the surface. The leyline beneath them responded, its raw magic no longer a sluggish tide but a roaring flood, rushing downward as if the Seed had become a void, consuming all ambient Ether around it.

The ground split open, but instead of sand collapsing into the rift, something rose.

An enormous trunk, pale as bleached bone, erupted from the nexus and surged toward the sky, its surface glistening with an organic sheen. Pulsing veins of blood and webs of sinew continued to weave along its bark-like exterior, an eerie blend of plant and flesh. The trunk twisted and spiraled as it ascended, growing impossibly fast as its shadow began to stretch across the desert. Although he couldn’t see it happening, Zareth could feel the earth shake as tendril-like roots expanded in all directions, entwining themselves around the magical leylines and deep into the earth in search of the groundwater far below.

By the time all was said and done, Zareth found himself standing in the shadow of a colossal, 400-foot-tall, majestic abomination that had completely taken over the once-barren stretch of desert. Zareth felt a shudder pass through his body—not from fear, but from the raw power radiating from the thing that had just been born. His connection allowed him to know exactly what he was looking at.

A temple. A fortress. A living entity. Nisrahad’s first pillar.

And more than anything else—a beginning.

The Cultist of Cerebon continues in Book 3

Thank you for reading Flesh and Secrets

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