by L. M. Kerr
What they would be used for, however, even Irin himself didn’t seem to know. He claimed he was waiting for a sign, to learn what purpose they would serve, the true meaning of the ‘Guinevere Plan.’
In Micheal’s first life, this tidbit of knowledge came to be known to history, largely because of what ended up happening: nothing. The hidden Grey Knights of the Church did very little, held in reserve for too long by a nervous leader that wasted their potential.
Micheal was also well aware that the ominous Darmaton Plague was on the horizon. He couldn’t really do much about it by himself, but if he could somehow convince the Purgatory Church to help out… it was at least worth trying.
The fact that it was the Nirvana Saint who obtained his warnings was outside of his expectations.
The Nirvana Saint’s eyes burned with tireless enthusiasm as he shifted gears and started to work through various folders at his desk, each one holding a multitude of intelligence reports.
As he went over what the eyes and ears of the Church reported, a vast network he was constantly expanding, a floating book fluttered in the air next to him.
This book was beautiful to behold, covered in gold leaf and intricate carvings along its back and front. Faint white light glowed out from its pages as information was added to it, records stored as fast as the Nirvana Saint could read.
It wasn’t an Artifact, but a power he gained from one of his Abilities: Solomon’s Book. It allowed him to summon a magic book that had several functions, one being the power to copy down anything he read.
Roughly 40 seconds after he began reading and copying reports, the Nirvana Saint paused.
He had been in the midst of scanning one page in particular, prepared to set it to the side like he had the others, when he came to this stop.
He then went back and read through the page from the start, his brows drawing together.
Then, he read it a third time, as if to be certain.
Only then did he set it down.
“That’s…” The Nirvana Saint’s eyes glimmered as his voice trailed off. After a half-second, he reached out and tapped on the floating book next to him.
Immediately, the pages of the book glowed white and then transformed.
A copy of an old intelligence report morphed into existence, one he had read through shortly after he took control of the Church. He had spent nine hours straight reading intelligence reports at the time, storing every single report that he could obtain.
This report described the identities of 10 men and women, strong Second Rate Warriors that didn’t appear to have any obvious relations. Collectively, members of all 4 Syndicates were listed, with little rhyme or reason.
The report had been part of a larger investigation, one of many that Archbishop Irin had shut down 5 months ago. Records of it, and several others, were supposed to have been destroyed. Ironically, they ended up surviving because the incompetent workers that Irin put in charge never got around to finishing the job.
In these records, the Nirvana Saint read of a hunt for something that seemed almost fantastical in nature:
An alleged secret organization of great power, one that was manipulating humanity from the shadows.
It was an interesting concept, but the original investigation had found no evidence to support it. When it listed out ‘possible members,’ the report itself noted that it had no hard proof. Even the origins of the case centered on an unconfirmed prophecy claimed to be from the First Layer’s Seer.
After the Nirvana Saint took over, he had reinstated every investigation Irin cancelled, out of both principle and spite. He would not let the man’s incompetence ruin everything.
This particular investigation had been assigned to one of six new investigative teams he’d organized.
It was also the same team he ended up using to investigate the information Micheal had passed on, warnings about an incoming, man-made plague created by an organization hidden in the shadows…
And now… he had finally received an update.
Six of the 10 ‘possible members’ of this organization had vanished in the last few weeks, not an unusual thing, in and of itself. People went off to do things all the times, the Church couldn’t watch everything.
According to his team, however…
Three of those ‘possible members’ had reappeared, but not in any normal sense.
No, his men had stated that a Byren Deathreader had listed their names, among other things, when Deathreading a batch of brains brought in by an unknown, masked human.
Deathreaders were experts who studied a type of mystic Martial Art that let them peek into almost any creature’s thoughts, with one major condition: that creature had to be dead. This process would destroy the brain, meaning it could only be used once per being. The information obtained was random and usually incomplete, but that didn’t stop the profession from being one information brokers adored. The few Byren Deathreaders that would work with humans were constantly watched by the Church’s eyes and ears as a result.
According to the report, the Deathreader hadn’t gleaned much from those three brains, apart from their names.
However…
Of the other brains that this masked human brought, four of them did have something relevant.
One had memories of traveling south to the territory of the Ground Demon Sect, while a second shared memories of traveling to the headquarters of the Divine Might Sect.
In both cases, according to the Deathreader, each warrior had been hired to guard merchants as they travelled, carrying various things to sell. Weapons, Artifacts, ancient Martial Art manuals, and even…
Livestock.
Including, his team found by pulling some records, Darmaton Pigs.
The last two useful brains had conveyed vague, matching information about a coordinated human-led attack that was, of all things, targeting one of the new races that had appeared on the Second Layer: the Farians.
An attack that the Nirvana Saint had heard nothing about, not from any Syndicate or major power, the only forces that should be able to pull off something like this.
“It’s real.” In this exact moment, all doubt fled from the Nirvana Saint’s heart.
His entire mindset began to shift as he internalized the existence of this secret organization, accepting that it was very possible he might have to adapt every plan he had formed.
As this happened, another thought rose up.
He tapped on the floating book, the pages glowing as the writing on it shifted.
It transformed into a series of notes that he himself had written down, observations from his final encounter with Archbishop Irin many days ago.
He had jumped to the end of these notes, to one of the last things he had written, looking at this journal log with narrowed eyes.
‘Upon the conclusion of Archbishop Irin’s execution, one thing of note was observed.’
‘Shortly after he died, a small, circular collection of dark energy, around the size of a marble, rose up from his body and vanished. Cause: unknown.’
.. .. .. .. .. ..
Around two dozen miles to the south of the Camp Solaro and the Nirvana Saint, Hentra Camp stood quietly by itself, surrounded on all sides by a large, grassy field.
Several long, trailing clouds drifted across the sky above this Camp, the early morning light seeming to set them afire, streaks of golden light that shined with the dawn.
Hentra Camp was one of the largest Camps, a city in its own right, spread more than 10 miles in length and width and packed with buildings, people, and everything that came with them.
Deep within this Camp, a two-story house existed, squatting next to various other homes in a residential district. This particular building had a simple grey brick exterior and a red slate roof. The insides of the house were as sparsely decorated as its outsides, with a simple kitchen, foyer, and several plain bedrooms on the first floor, while a single, large study dominated the second.
In this st
udy, two men sat around a circular wooden table.
The first was a thin man dressed in colorful silk clothes, sighing flamboyantly as he looked at the clouds through a roof skylight, all while leaning on a stack of papers that were propped up on the wooden table. His face was pale but not quite sickly, a hint of life hiding within his somewhat hollow cheeks.
The second man was as bulky as he was tall, measuring roughly 2.1 meters from head to toe, with arms that looked as thick as tree trunks. His body practically screamed physical prowess, his overwhelming height noticeable even when he was sitting down.
This man’s warm brown skin seemed to radiate vitality and life, matched only in intensity by his piercing brown eyes. He had a friendly smile on his face as he looked across the table at the thin man, remaining so patiently still it was almost unnerving.
Strapped to the second man’s back was a large, dark axe that emanated faint, shadowy particles.
As the bulky man continued to sit quietly, the relaxed, long-sleeved white shirt he wore ruffled, a cool breeze drifting in from one of several open windows.
Finally, the thin man broke the silence.
“Well. This has been a bad month.” Mantis yawned, stretching his arms as he kept looking out at the clouds, his voice as effeminate as ever.
“How bad?” The muscular warrior bluntly returned as he nodded at the hidden Beast King of the Beasts of Providence.
“The Farian attack failed. Both the Ape Division and the Sea Division got wiped before they did their jobs.” Mantis’ mouth twitched.
“How?” The second man asked another blunt question.
“The Farians were well guarded and knew we were coming… somehow. Everything is still damnably unclear, and with no survivors, it’ll stay that way.” Mantis gnashed his teeth in frustration.
“Eh, Ape and Sea…” The bulky warrior tilted his head to the side as he shrugged at Mantis, injecting his own opinion,
"Those two Divisions were average at best, anyway. Silverback was the only one worth something and even then, all he did was run around like a rat…” The dark-skinned warrior grunted as he added,
“You should’ve been more careful. Didn’t you have a premonition about being more careful a few weeks ago?” The big man punctuated his comment with a second grunt.
Mantis sighed and rubbed his forehead as he looked at the bulky warrior.
“That’s just it. I was more careful, especially after some of our men vanished last week.” His voice took on a faint hint of exasperation as he added,
“I sent the entire Hunter Division and Sansa, alongside one of my Deathless Clones.”
The dark-skinned warrior’s eyes widened slightly as he stared at Mantis, his gaze asking a silent question.
“Yeah, they all died too, killed by a single man.” Mantis turned his gaze back to the sky, futile anger bleeding from his tone, as if blaming the blue expanse up above.
The sky did not deign to reply.
“Man? A human?” The bulky warrior cut in, for the first time gaining a hint of interest.
Mantis nodded, his forehead creased in thought.
“A single human ruined the entire attack?” The warrior asked another question, this time voicing a hint of disbelief.
“No, the human killed the backup. Two teams of Byren Martial Artists ruined the main attack. Probably.” Mantis answered, his tone curt,
“The human killed the Hunter Division, then Sansa, then tracked down my Clone for a fight.” Exasperation bled into Mantis’ voice.
“What?! Did Silverback die? What about his Irregular Artifact?!” The bulky warrior sounded genuinely shocked.
“Yes, they all died, Artifacts or not. My Clone managed to save him once, but died as a result.” Mantis turned away from the sky once again, his gaze boring into the bulky warrior.
The man was just about to speak when Mantis waved a hand.
“No, Rex, I’m tired of talking to myself. It’s not helping.” The thin warrior waved at him dismissively.
“You sure about that, Lux?” A flicker of a smile appeared and then vanished from the face of one of humanity’s Four Barons, Baron Rex.
Baron Lux, known among the Beasts of Providence by his codename Mantis, or as the Beast King when he allowed it, glared at the bulky warrior.
“Don’t you say-” A boisterous round of laughter cut Lux off as the big man clapped his hands together, a gleaming smile appearing on his face. The sheer force from that light clap set the air in the room aflutter, sending a dozen random pieces of paper flying from the table.
“It happened again, didn’t it? The Great Lord of Luck himself, once more running into a string of bad luck. Oh, that’s gold.” Baron Rex heartily laughed for several more seconds.
In the background, the pages of data and information that his clap had scattered began to float down, sifting through the air randomly.
“What do they say? Fifth try’s the charm, is it?” The bulky warrior’s own joke set himself off into another fit of laughter.
Lux glared at the man throughout all of this.
“You know, I’m controlling your mind right now, Rex. If I wanted to, I could wipe away your entire personality with a snap of my fingers.” Lux mimed like he was about to do just that.
Rex ignored this threat, a big smile still on his face as he turned his gaze away from the thin warrior and knowingly shifted it down to the table between them.
In that same moment, the dozen pages that the powerful man had scattered into the air had all, by sheer coincidence, fallen back down…
Specifically, they fell down exactly where they had been before, resting in the same spots, at the same angles, on the same sides they had started on.
No Artifact was turned on or Ability activated, no energy pulled out or hidden tools used.
Just…
Luck.
“Are you done now?” Baron Lux grimaced.
“So…” Rex flushed the mirth from his face as he crossed his hands together, his gaze growing serious and… eager.
"This human… how did he fight? He sounds like a good candidate to join the King Division. We could use a new fighter.” Rex’s gaze intensified.
“I still can’t get anything too clear, but my Hunters thought he should’ve died a dozen times over.” Lux replied,
“The general sentiment was that it felt like sparring against me, but worse. Even my Clone’s luck wasn’t enough.” The esteemed Beast King grumbled to himself.
The dark-skinned warrior’s entire being seemed to light up when he heard this, a gleeful smile appearing on his face.
“That strong?” Rex’s eyes bored into Lux.
“Not really. He felt like he was only a few weeks into Sky Tier, though he did have a few drops of Draconic Energy fused in his blood. And no-” Lux held up a hand as he cut himself off, preventing Rex from interrupting.
“I have no idea how he managed to get it. The Sanctum isn’t open, which means it can only be from one of the Twelve Tombs.” Lux rubbed his chin musingly, a frown marring his face,
“This human should be a rather fearsome character.”
As soon as he finished talking, Lux held up a hand again.
“Yes, yes, I know.” The Beast King stopped the big warrior from getting a word in for the second time, reading the man’s thoughts directly,
“New Toren and Dark Wraith Inheritances are found relatively often. I stumbled on a Dark Wraith Inheritance soon after I came to the Second, remember?” Lux glared at the other man.
Rex shook his head.
“No. You never told me that.” The dark-skinned warrior’s voice was honest.
Lux paused, a frown appearing on his face.
“Huh. I guess I didn’t tell you. Odd.” His frown deepened for a moment before he shrugged off the memory lapse and went on,
“The only Blue Drake Inheritances to ever appear are the Twelve Tombs, they aren’t like the other old races. That means this man is one of how many humans to pass thos
e trials… three, now?” Lux took a moment as he counted using his fingers,
“Yeah, three. The other two already went through the Valley of Souls to the Third Layer, so that leaves just him left on the Second… my luck probably did draw him in.” The thin warrior sighed.
The two Barons looked at each other in silence for a few moments.
Lux stretched his hands and arms before nodding to himself.
“Well, there’s no use crying to myself. We’ll check on the Farians again after the plague hits.” The thin man smiled, his entire demeanor shifting as a commanding air covered him,
“Thanks for the talk, Rex, old pal. Now forget it all until next time.”
Baron Rex froze. His eyes glazed over and his body grew slack for a moment. A heartbeat later, the warrior sat back up, looking at Lux attentively as the Beast King began to issue orders,
“Keep hunting for those with potential. The Divine Might Sect has begun to notice my control of Inner Elder Gorbo, so we won’t be using his Withering Snow Poison as encouragement anymore. The failures that died have already laid the groundwork for war, anyway.”
Lux rubbed his chin and thought for a few more moments as he nodded to himself,
“Go investigate the human that calls himself Prime. If you can capture him, do so. He would make an excellent Seed for the King Above. If not, kill him.”
“Sounds good. What about Sansa’s Syndicate?” Rex replied shortly.
“It’s all the same in the end. The Syndicates needed a wake-up call, a succession battle should do nicely. We'll use the chaos to finally replace Baron Fortuna.” Lux’s voice held a trace of mirth,
“It's about time we got this party started.” Lux smiled,
“War is inevitable, now. Nothing can stop it.” His gaze turning inward, truly talking to himself now,
“Destiny awaits.”
.. .. .. .. .. ..
Fate. Destiny. The future. The past.
All these concepts are chained down by one simple thing.
Time.
It’s a funny thing, that. It could make some days pass in mere seconds, yet stretch some seconds out into long days.