Noah found himself in the midst of a productive cycle, lazing about in the origin pool for half the day, and spending a few hours sparring with Samain, honing his combat prowess. He still hadn’t used his [Pseudo- Primordial Spirit] transformation, that was reserved for the big fight or barring that, any unexpected contingencies.

Unfortunately, as with any good thing in life, it couldn’t last forever. In the evening of his third day in luxurious paradise, Noah got a notification informing him that his Origin Stat had reached the maximum his present level and race could accommodate, 100/100 origin for a level 10 human. The implications of that in itself were fascinating, though Liam as usual was frustratingly vague on matters related to the future.

“Having a good time on company money, eh lad?” Liam pushed his glasses closer to his eyes with his forefinger as they were slightly drooping, as he flipped through the pages of a magazine with uncharacteristic interest.

“The Bard’s Guide to Ascension? The hell is that?” Noah asked with passing interest, as he took another bite from the system generated Chicken Tikka that was an explosion of spices foreign to his taste buds with every single bite. For some reason, it just made him reach for more.

“Eh lad, I keep forgetting how behind the times you are despite being, what, a hundred odd years younger than me? Funny how the tables turn, for once the older generation can one up you cocky little shites,” Liam answered with clear, unmistakable condescension in his voice.

“Just, ahh, nevermind,” Noah sighed and decided to just enjoy the food and drink while he could.

“A hundred years is a long time, lad. What, you expect us to read magazines about cars while we can run twice as fast, or guns when we ourselves are far more lethal even when unarmed. No lad, this right here, is a catalogue of every major event that took place in the tower of glory, compiled years from now with the accounts of thousands of known challengers that were willing to share information about the specifics. Every notable exploit should be here, and yet we still manage to find ourselves in unchartered territory,” Liam explained with amusement creeping into his voice, as if it was actually a good thing that they had already started to diverge from the original history.

“Shouldn’t that be a matter of worry? What if my actions render some of your knowledge obsolete? And why was such a guide made in the first place, could people enter the Tower of Glory at later stages as well?” Noah asked with some anxiety.

“Why? The why is simple, lad. Why do humans study the past? To avoid repeating the mistakes of our ancestors, and learning from their prudent decisions, is it not so? The importance of history is even greater in the tower, each account is analyzed from all angles by our greatest minds, in hopes that some obscure tidbit of information might be a clue to a larger understanding of some element that has been eluding us, some fragment that might let us finally see the bigger picture. As for your worries, they are of no concern. I should not have survived after using the skill that allowed me to go back in time, only my memories and the sum essence of my knowledge was said to survive the transfer. The Tower’s text, in my century of experience, have been immutable in every understanding of word… yet I survived. Am I part of some greater machination unknown to myself, a pawn in someone else’s game? I have analyzed this question from many different angles, yet the answer is staggeringly simple: Does it change what I must do? No. And what must I do? Direct you to change the future. Will it be for the better? I cannot say. Can it be for the worse? What can be worse than complete extinction, lad. I am a gambler with no chips to lose, lad. We can only make small, gradual changes to the timeline and hope against hope that the coin toss lands in our favor,” Liam explained, his tone slightly forlorn nearing the end, but only for an instant; He never let his true emotions surface for too long, and perhaps that was for the best. If his guide himself deemed it a lost cause, then what hope or motivation would Noah have for the future?

“I… uh, that’s a surprisingly detailed explanation. Thank you, Liam, for actually answering my question for once. Can I take a peek at the book?” Noah genuinely felt thankful at having part of his questions answered, so he decided to be a bit greedy.

“Don’t press your luck, kid. Besides, it’s already time to meet the old man,” Liam nonchalantly waved Noah away with his left hand, he had figured as much.

Dressing in the customary azure robes of the Wailun Sect, Noah felt an odd feeling of melancholy wash over him at the thought of saying farewell to this place and the people here. It may have been through deception, and it may have been an illusion, but in all honesty, he had come to like Samain and Bulai.

He walked towards the Sect Leader’s chambers, where Samain and Bulai had been waiting for him. This entire floor of the pagoda had been cordoned off for the Sect Leader’s personal use, no one could enter or leave the floor without his explicit permission and knowledge.

He nodded towards the two guards standing guard outside Bulai’s chambers, who gave him a smile and a nod in return as he passed them by. He had long since suspected that the true reason for the relaxed expressions on the guards’ faces was because they didn’t believe Noah to be a threat, which made it even more curious how he was supposed to play a part in the elaborate play Liam had cast him as the main lead in.

“Ah, greetings, young master!” Bulai said with a tense smile on his face, as today was the day the fate of the Wailun Sect and the Saemanis Sect would be decided.

“Brother Noah,” Samain moved to greet Noah, and he clasped his hand and replied, “Brother Samain. Thank you for your continued assistance,” Noah replied with a genuine gratefulness, there was no icebreaker like sparring for a few days. Arrogance has its own place in the act, but to continue to act like he owned the place would only invite greater scrutiny into his identity; And in all honesty, he just didn’t like being an asshat.

“Is everything in order?” Bulai asked with frayed nerves, and Noah gave him a serious nod.

“Yes. I am afraid I will have to offer my farewell for now, as the time for the final stage draws near. Has the Supreme Elder made contact?” Noah asked in hushed tones, displaying a level of urgency that was hardly feigned.

“There was to be no contact after the selection of the assassination was finalized, the risk of an interruption by the Saemanis Sect was simply too high,” Bulai explained solemnly.

“Then let this be farewell for now, Master Bulai, Samain,” Noah said with slight sadness at the parting and the other two men responded with light nods.

With that, Noah exited the Wailun Clan’s pagoda in their characteristic blue robes, blending into the crowd as if he were an ordinary sect disciple, one among many.