65

The Chosen One

Almost embarrassingly, Rian found the end of 3-2 after another half hour of searching. He was far closer to the end than he’d thought. There was probably some kind of saying that he couldn’t recall: something about giving up without realizing you were at the finish line.

Another towering, black stone monolith stood along a river, marking the end of the stage. Rian could feel the radiating pressure wave even from afar, where he was in the cover of the tree line.

He almost panicked, thinking he’d forgotten to find the necessary dimensional key to advance. He’d have to backtrack forever and ever through an onslaught of status effects. Then he remembered Yatagara had literally tossed the Ezre Key to him—before, well, attempting to kill him. Rian couldn’t blame himself for forgetting about the key amid all that.

Rian began to step out, and Corvis suddenly reached out and pulled him back.

“Wait,” Corvis said. “There are others nearby. Likely an ambush.”

That super-hearing of his had come in handy for once. And it made sense: this was the best place to lay in wait to attack unsuspecting players and rob them of their dimensional keys.

Rian spotted a party of four. They were slowly approaching the monolith. One led the group, and he was brandishing a key to ward off something invisible.

“Wait here,” Corvis said. “I’ll scout the area to make sure there’s no one else.”

Rian nodded, and Corvis took off.

Nearly a minute passed as the party gradually made its way up to the monolith. The ground near the river was clean as if hurricane winds had stripped everything away.

Rian flinched at the sound of what he thought was a firework taking off, then realized it was a missile.

An ornate, golden spear howled through the air and the party leader’s hand. Everyone near him screamed as he dropped the key. The unabated pressure wave of the monolith shredded the entire group to pieces.

Rian’s stomach turned. There hadn’t been any blood or gore—everyone had dissolved into light particles, but the screams had sounded authentic.

The key, unaffected, landed only a few feet back from where it had been dropped. The golden spear remained, having impaled the ground on the way down, and it shook violently against the invisible forces of the monolith but didn’t break.

Then Rian saw him. A hulking figure stepped out of the tree line elsewhere. He was covered in jagged gold armor that looked like winds had shaped it, the sculpted edges of his helm blown back against his face, pauldrons flaring out past his shoulders.

He casually walked up to the spear and pulled it out of the ground, then picked up the dropped key like it was nothing.

Wielding the spear, he pointed it directly at Rian. “Halt!”

Rian’s blood went cold, but at the same time, he was confused. Halt? I’m pretty sure I wasn’t moving…

Rian stepped forward from the tree line anyway, thinking the guy—a lancer, Rian presumed—actually meant show yourself.

“What right do you have to proceed?” the lancer said.

“Uh. What?”

“For what reason do you tread forth?”

This guy was unbelievably geared out, at a glance. Likely a contender for the Sacred Tournament. Rian was too scared to check.

Well, no reason not to answer honestly.

“I’m just here to see the sights,” Rian said. “Maybe try to kill the king of Pyce or something, have a good time. I don’t know.” He shrugged.

The lancer lowered his spear. Then he flipped up the visor on his golden helm. His eyes were stark violet, peering deeply into Rian. The lancer reached up, removed his helm, and dropped it to the ground. Brilliant white hair trailed out behind him.

The lancer stared for another long few seconds. A strange look came over his face: his eyes widening, his lips curling in, a smile starting to form. He looked like he’d just told a joke and was waiting for Rian to get it.

The lancer pranced up to him. “Do you know my name?”

Rian, feeling very small, blinked, then shook his head.

The lancer struck a pose. “Then know me now and forever, for I am Sven Kaldastor, the Dragon Killer King! My name shall resound through history. Behold!”

Sven tore off the pauldron on his left shoulder, and Rian nearly had a heart attack.

The Mark of Yindra was on Sven’s arm.

Sven made a hushing motion, probably from how Rian looked like he was about to scream.

“It’s okay,” Sven said, much quieter now and breaking character as he looked carefully past Rian, once over each shoulder. “He’s not around.”

“Wh—” Rian had so many questions. “What…is going on? Why do you have that?”

Sven blinked as if he couldn’t understand the question. “Why? You mean you know what this is?”

Carefully, slowly, Rian nodded.

Sven grinned. “Then you know what I am, right?”

“You’re…uh…” Rian stuttered.

Sven threw his arms wide. “I’m the main character! That’s right. I was chosen by Yindra herself. Sent on a secret mission for purposes to which even I am not privy. But I know what awaits me, O traveler. As the protagonist, the machinations of this world have revealed themselves to me.”

Sven crossed his arms and chuckled. “It’s quite simple,” he said. “Yindra chose me because she’s going to offer her hand to me in kingship. How could she not? I’m certainly the greatest Dragon Knight to’ve ever stepped foot in Miriad. And the best-looking off-worlder, of course. Someone as beautiful as Yindra deserves someone like me by her side. And with her as our queen, my queen, we’ll begin a new reign over…”

He kept going on, and Rian zoned out. Even the shock of seeing another person with the Mark had managed to fade in a matter of seconds with this guy running his mouth. Who the hell did he think he was?

Rian checked his stats. He was ranked 49—one of the top players, for sure. But not high enough that it warranted a head full of air, Rian thought.

Corvis came floating back. When he saw Sven—saw the Mark—his face fell. “This imbecile,” he said under his breath.

Rian gave Corvis a look. Sven didn’t even notice, still monologuing about how great he was.

If Sven could show off his Mark and nothing bad was happening, maybe Rian could show off his and learn a bit more about what it was for. Assuming Corvis wouldn’t kill him for it.

“It seems you’re not the only one headed toward ruin anymore,” Corvis said. He shook his head, sighing. “This is turning out to be a bigger disaster than I thought.”

Rian mouthed the word, What?

“The Mark serves a certain purpose,” Corvis said. “One which the Game Masters mustn’t learn of. I suppose we’re far along enough that it makes no difference now, so there’s no point in me destroying you if you happen to reveal yours. But if he sees your Mark, he will probably kill you.”

Rian stepped back slightly, keeping Sven in sight. But the Dragon Knight wasn’t even looking at him anymore. He was facing away, pretending to speak to an audience, which Rian supposed was his stream viewers.

Rian suddenly felt camera-shy. Who knew how many were watching a high-ranked player like that? The further along Rian went, the more eyes were on him.

How long before it all came crashing down?

He took out his Ezre Key and quietly headed for the monolith. Sven didn’t seem to notice.

***

Temporal Rift 3-2 Complete!

You have gained experience! (+23871)

LEVEL UP! (Lv. 37→38)

It was a sad fact that despite continuing to gain levels, there was almost no difference in Rian's overall power. The law of diminishing returns had taken effect. EXP was almost meaningless now, and levels had become just another arbitrary marker for the next reward. It was only when he’d reach level cap that something significant would happen: he’d gain access to his final class skill and another Mirage skill.

Drawing himself out of thought, he landed in 3-3.

Whereas the previous stages had been mostly flat with a few hills, stage three was comprised of a single, massive hill—an underground mountain. Half of it was covered in trees, and the other half was barren. The division was perfect, a straight line separating the biomes.

Upon the slopes were dozens of figures moving about at unthinkable speeds, steel flashing, flames billowing from explosions, lightning striking at random. A free-for-all had broken out among players, and as Rian watched, they were racing each other to the top of the mountain—where the final monolith stood, pointing to the sky.

It was, as Rian had expected, the end of the cavern. Rocky walls still surrounded the area in every direction, creating a giant enclosure miles wide. The only opening in the cavern was a single circle, far above the top of the mountain, where the stars were visible and a moon shone down, illuminating everything below with pale light.

At the mountain’s base was a town that encircled it. Great plains stood between Rian and the mountain, and among those grasses were dozens of more fights, though these were paired off between two players each rather than the chaotic free-for-all that was happening on the mountain slopes.

At a glance, all of the players were either close or just above the qualification threshold for the Sacred Tournament: rank 256.

Rian cast Earthen Resonance and dashed through the plains, dodging the fights wherever he could. A few stray arrows zipped by, but he made it through unscathed. The fights were far apart enough that he could avoid them all, and no one seemed particularly interested in taking him out.

When he arrived in the town, a strange feeling told him something was off. Like he’d stepped into range of something menacing. He looked around for a bit before he saw it.

A woman wearing a wolf’s head cloak sat perched upon the highest building, a clock tower. Though Rian couldn’t see her face in the shadow of her cloak, he had a feeling that she was watching him. As he stared, her stat window opened. Her name was already visible: Fenrir. The rank nine player.

Rian closed the window and continued forward, treading lightly.

“Don’t worry,” Corvis said. “I doubt she’ll take interest in you. She’s here for other reasons.”

Rian wondered, but it didn’t make sense that someone like her would be here—someone who was already so far beyond the qualification threshold for the Sacred Tournament.

Then he realized: the town that existed here was in a place and time before the Undoing, which meant there were no nullshards to protect it. Fenrir was acting like a sentry, guarding the town against anyone who’d foolishly consider attacking it.

Rian relaxed. He’d seen what high-rank players could do, and the thought of using all that power to destroy a town like this was a mortifying possibility, but having someone like Fenrir keeping watch put him at ease.

The town was filled with players of all ranks, trading, chatting, crafting, and gambling. More than once, a fight broke out and a player was killed. Entire parties took to arms before a top ranker showed up and began negotiations.

Glad to get out of the bustle, Rian found an instanced shop to hand over his equipment for repair. Since tesseracts were rarer here in the past, they were also considerably more valuable. He thought about selling off a bunch of his items for way more than they were worth in the Overworld, but the shopkeeper only had a limited supply of tesses, likely to prevent people from breaking the economy…in the future.

Rian rubbed his temples, then accepted his repaired items back. He had a feeling that, if he had the brains to work it out, he could find an exploit that would generate infinite money through arbitrage and parallel universes. But it probably wouldn’t be easy, if possible at all. And besides, there was no way he was the first person to think of that, which told him it was likely impossible.

He exited the shop and headed toward the mountain, which stood like a wall at the end of the town. There, a bridge to the slopes extended over a ravine, though there was no water below. Rian looked down.

Thousands of corpses lay in the pit that encircled the mountain: players still in their armor, their faces blank, eyes lifeless and staring.

Going among them was a creature drenched in flowing shadows. Tendrils reached out and cradled the corpses nearby, and slowly the bodies dissolved to skeletons in the creature’s grasp.

Rian blinked, and when he looked again all he could see below was darkness.

“Did you see something?” Corvis said.

“I…” Rian shivered, then shook his head and hurried forward. “I must be seeing things.”

Far ahead at the end of the bridge was the forest side of the mountain, and Rian wondered if there had been other bridges on other sides leading to the different biomes. It probably wasn’t a coincidence that he’d ended up on the forest side, given his Goam alignment.

On the bridge were other players walking mostly in parties, though a few were solo like him. To his surprise, no one was fighting yet, as if by some unspoken agreement to wait until they got onto the mountain.

“Temporal items! Get your temporal items here!”

It was an Onsolian merchant, dressed in vibrant clothes and sitting cross-legged before a rug. When Rian stopped, the merchant pointed at him.

“Care to take a look at my wares?” the merchant said. “I only offer the finest products at reasonable prices.”

Rian glanced down at the rug. There was nothing on it but a stick.

“Is that…literally just a stick?” Rian said.

“Oh, ho, ho. This isn’t just any stick, my good time traveler. It’s a stick from the future. There’s even a special discount on my stock—half off on all temporal items.” He snapped his fingers. “That’s right, just one tesseract per item!”

“A physical manifestation of temporal energy for a stick,” Rian said, deadpan. “What a deal.”

The merchant’s facade of cheerfulness dropped instantly. “Hey, if you’re not interested, buzz off, pal. There’s another dozen of you off-worlders I can sell to in other universes, and they’ll at least have some respect.”

“Okay, you know what, sure. Why not.” Rian reached into his pocket and pulled out a tesseract. “I’m probably a dead man anyway. One tess isn’t gonna make a difference.”

He handed it over, and the merchant stared at him slack-jawed. “Er,” the Onsolian said. “Wow. I wasn’t expecting…” He cleared his throat, then handed Rian the stick.

You have obtained (1) Temporal Stick!

“You know I just ripped you off, right?” the merchant said.

“Obviously. But I’m feeling generous. I feel like…I owe you Onsolians a bit.”

The merchant raised his brow before he nodded and stuffed the tesseract away. “Here for a chance to fight Zeniyon, are ya?”

Rian nodded.

“Well, be careful. The third key’s a bit tricky to secure, and there’s quite a ruckus happening over it right now, as you can see.”

The free-for-all was still happening on the mountain slopes, though there were fewer players left, from what Rian could tell.

“You probably won’t end up in that instance, though,” the merchant said. “That just happens to be the most interesting one happening right now. The space around the mountain refracts to show wherever the most temporal energy is being expended among all the currently available universes.”

The merchant paused, pulled a strange device out of his pocket, frowned, nodded, and stuffed it back away. “All right, come on,” he said aside. “That’s enough harvesting for today.”

Over the edge of the bridge climbed a creature like a walking black curtain.

It was the thing Rian had seen in the ravine.

Everyone on the bridge jumped back; some drew weapons. The creature was monstrous, dripping shadow from its pale limbs. Its face was obscured, but Rian could see the white bones of its jaw. Its breaths clouded the air. A low, otherworldly growl emanated as it walked.

Rian, unnerved, walked backward toward the end of the bridge to put space between him and the monster.

The merchant hopped up to his feet and started walking toward the town, waving back at Rian. “Pleasure doing business with you, off-worlder!”

The creature followed, lumbering after the merchant. The players shied away, but no one attacked. Rian kept backing up, though slower now.

Snapping his fingers as if he’d just remembered something, the merchant stopped and turned toward Rian. “Oh, yeah, watch out for the—”

He and everyone else vanished as Rian crossed into another instance. Rian had stepped off the bridge. He tried to walk onto it again, but an invisible wall was separating him from the bridge. He was stuck on the mountain.

Well, I’ll be watching out for something, I guess, Rian thought.