Daniel knew his sharp intake of breath gave him away, but the implications of Soraso’s question had his mind reeling. It also made him look at the glowing rift in an entirely different light. He’d taken it as some kind of portal monsters were coming through, but a connection to the Astral? Those claws coming out of the wall could be Hunter’s in as little as a week. Not having the body might not be a problem. Needless to say he was now sold on the plan.

  “Familiar?” the Regent inevitably asked.

  “My class has a connection to it,” Willow said quickly, covering for Daniel. “It’s one of the new ones.”

  Soraso’s cloud face contorted into a grin. “Even better! I was hoping to find people like you to better understand those rifts once the initial scouting was done. Otherwise I’d have to put up with Arcanists, no offense to Lograve.”

  “But how did you know this was the Astral?” Daniel asked, seeming to catch Soraso off guard with the question. “We only learned about it after the Collapse.” He was careful not to explicitly mention where, as his discovery had happened alongside Beast Mode’s initial powers.

  “At the time, I didn’t know exactly what it was,” Soraso replied, while his body first formed into a loose cloud and then recondensed into a standing position. He didn’t stop talking while doing so making most of the team disconcerted and Khare continually jealous. “Other than it was a hole that kept pushing out monsters. My dull blade couldn’t cut that material either, and it resisted my attempts to enter. Probably for the best. I thought at first it was a defense mechanism spitting out captured monsters, or maybe the whole thing was some kind of broken training ground. When we began to learn about the Astral, I put the pieces together.”

  That didn’t make complete sense to Daniel, but there was something else on his mind. “So the monsters in the ruins scale to who is in there? You said no one else has gone in there. I don’t see how you can be sure it doesn’t just create level 4 monsters.”

  “The Astral is said to be the realm of the gods,” Soraso replied smoothly. “It seems they have been hiding some truths from us, for good or ill.”

  It's bullshit, Daniel instantly thought, and he felt Soraso agreed with him. If Cloak was so quick to block out his Encyclopedia’s entry on the subject, there was no way he’d let the truth be disseminated.

  “Why would the Astral have monsters in it if it belongs to the gods?” Khiat asked from where she’d take a seat on the ground as if fearful Soraso would put up another false ceiling.

  “The Crest still threatens the world,” he reminded her simply. “And we aren’t lucky enough to have it just imperil one aspect of reality. Among those who know, the best guess is that the ruins have been fully claimed by the enemy. They are outside the formal scope of the Octyrrum, though neither are they physically in the Crest. Whether it’s by intent, or the enemy is limited in that place due to the adjacency of the Octyrrum, they can only mount a proportional response to invaders.”

  “Balance,” Khare muttered, their humanoid upper half spinning as they took in the team. Daniel was thinking the same thing.

  “We are about average level 2, though Tlara could make higher level enemies appear. She’s also a bit too fat for those tunnels,” he added, relishing the bit of vindictiveness he’d allowed himself. “We could use her like a tank, but otherwise she’ll have the same problem Threst natives have.”

  “Until we get her a beast inside the ruins,” Willow countered. “Most of the ones she has are still level 2. This would be a good opportunity, especially if any have spirits.” She blinked suddenly, realizing that while Tlara’s status was semi-public knowledge among hunters, her class’ reflection of Spiritualist beliefs was not. Getting Shuni on board had probably made her comfortable enough to slip in the otherwise relaxed presence of Soraso.

  “You’re talking about soul fragments?” the Regent asked, drawing a mixture of relief and confusion from Willow. “Don’t worry, you’re not speaking heresy. At least, not anymore. Part of what Cloak’s church informed us when the secrets of the Astral were revealed, funnily enough. The notion was wrong before, but the conditions of a Collapse create the possibility of a soul fracturing in claimed Astral space and being absorbed by a monster. It’s one of the reasons classes such as yours weren’t ordained by the Octyrrum until now. Of course, the Spiritualist movement itself is still listed as a heretical organization within the former Forlothan kingdom.”

  On Daniel’s part, he only felt a growing disgust toward Cloak as the explanation continued. Torch was either gone or otherwise disabled if his Encyclopedia was free to plunder information, meaning he had to be the source of this sanitized explanation. It would help ease the world into accepting truths that ran counter to previous doctrine, and yet if you accepted this lie then it would make Hunter an impossibility as he’d existed before the Collapse.

  “The bottom line is this,” Soraso said, his voice growing more business-like as he held each of their gazes for a moment like a resplendent specter of the past. “Your group fits what I need for an initial run. That it had the personal attention of an Artificer alone ranks it higher than average, and with a dusker in what might as well be an underground network of tunnels? These ruins were on my priority list well before the world decided to end. With Rikendia gone and its Incursion Army holding the northern edge of the kingdom, we must keep the center. If Threst and Aughal fall, the Crest could sweep through Kallical and cut us in half. Whatever ground we lose is gone for good.”

  Daniel saw an aspect of Murdon in the Regent then and he wondered if it had only been Lograve who had rubbed off on the air gestalt. Then again, Soraso had become the leader of an entire region. “What are we actually doing there, though?” he had to ask. “If monsters keep spawning and we can’t stop that, are we just running around and grabbing anything shiny?”

  “That’s not a bad idea,” Soraso replied, coming down off his patriotic high. “But what we should be concerned with most are any means of control in the ruins.” He held his sword up again contemplatively, the wing motif on the hilt catching light from a nearby spark torch. “They were built by the people of the Octyrrum, just as this is a construct of the gods. Trust them to have put an important lever somewhere that prevents monsters from coming aboard, or something similar.”

  “Will having Daniel with us help with that?” Willow asked. At face value it wasn’t a good question, but he knew what she actually meant. He’d pierced the Shroud of Aughal, would his Spoke give him an all access pass here?

  Unless the new domain fucks that all up. Cloak did say the ‘key’ no longer fits, but if it was for what he wants in the ruins he wouldn’t have been happy. There’d be nothing for it but to get into the ruins and find out, which was the gist of Soraso’s answer to Willow as well. It’d seemed like they had discussed everything important before the actual raid itself, when they’d find out how entering and exiting worked, but the Bard added one last thing.

  “It’s important that you keep whatever you see there to yourselves. I’d insist on making it a Secret, but I see you’ve found some way around that power.” He laughed as several on the team paled, visibly or not. “It’s not as if half the people in that room didn’t either. Shuni, you are one of the few Rogues at your level who has pulled off the impossible to be regarded as trustworthy. Don’t give me a reason to change that.”

  This book's true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.

  “Of course, Regent,” she quickly said, her demeanor withering under the implied threat.

  …

  It was a shame how dull flying could get. For other people. Daniel had still yet to grow tired of it. He was also cognizant of the Spoke’s lauded effect on Threst that made flying easier here. He’d fallen at what must have been terminal velocity on the ill-fated attack run on the horde and as someone who had experienced that before, it had been slower. It couldn’t have been his wings since he’d suppressed that effect, and the monsters chasing him hadn’t fallen faster. Neither were things on the ground that different. If he had a guess, it was as if Threst’s Spoke was enforcing a speed limit under what was normal. Only those who’d left the region and done something like, say, fall out of a kilometer tall tower would know the difference.

  There wasn’t time for more than idle thoughts. They were back up near the sky limit, though not near where he’d first detected Ygazir. According to Soraso, the footprint of the ruins was about ten kilometers long and four across, and it was extremely intimidating to think that something that large could be right above his head without him knowing. If the sky limit were to blip for just a second, the entire complex up there would crush him.

  That was only one of the causes of his anxiety, the others being obvious. Oh, by now Daniel could handle pre-fight jitters. He’d called down lightning and mixed with gods, though he found it hard to associate with the person he saw in the recovered memories. It was another thing to consider walking down trapped hallways while being surrounded by monster spawners, which themselves were both gates to hell and possibly the way to save Hunter. The involvement of Grave and what that would mean was far beyond him and why Willow was here.

  They were meeting with the last member of the ruins expedition at the breaching point, and he could already see the large soarer platform idling above. It was somewhat dangerous to just hover below the sky limit as a monster could appear at any time, but then again Soraso was in the area. The gestalt was level 4, but he possessed the Sword of Threst. It could cut apart space and he wasn’t sure if the Spoke restricted itself from doing that to living things or not.

  He’d already tagged the last member of their team on the approach via sound. Another odd thing he was getting good at with Keen Senses on constantly, though he still couldn’t match Hunter’s speed at registering multiple creatures. The ringcat had been exceptional all along.

  Daniel swept up from under the edge of the platform and mentally adjusted his boots to hover him while shifting the wings into their folded position, bringing him level with the Knight. He’d changed as much as Daniel had. For one, there was a lot more metal in Sigron’s armor. Just because Threst’s avian elite couldn’t wear heavy armor and be effective in flight didn’t mean the region didn’t produce resources from literal treasure islands that occasionally manifested. He wasn’t fully enclosed like how Murdon was, but the old football helmet was now something that looked like an elven general would wear.

  That wasn’t the biggest difference. Sigron’s entire left arm was also metallic, silvery gray, yet it moved in small ways that had to mean it was alive. He instantly felt an impulse to try and copy the formulae but held it back. Not the time, and it would probably be marked or a combo piece like the flying machine the Knight stood on.

  “I should have visited you,” Daniel quietly told Sigron as the rest of the team came to a stop, Khare waving from their parked upside down dome. The only other person here who’d fought with Sigron was Tlara, but the wyvern wasn’t in a state or mindset to do the same.

  Sigron’s lips moved before turning into a frown as the Knight brought a hand to his guarded throat. Daniel of course remembered his mutism, which had gone so far as to make the man reluctant to even write- “Thank you.”

  Daniel almost fell out of the air. “What, you… Thomas?” Sigron just nodded back to him. “I guess if Flash Balance can beat an Assassin, a curse is nothing.” His mind finally caught up to what Sigron had actually said. “You saved us from that massive root. We’re even as far as I’m concerned. How long have you been able to talk?”

  The Knight gave him a briefly uncomfortable look before just shaking his head. Instead, he pulled out parchment from somewhere inside his armor and held it out. Daniel lightly stepped onto the soarer, careful not to upset its balance and anger the avianoid driving it. He thought it was from Sigron at first, but a quick scan revealed Padri’s handwriting. The Craftsman had finally gotten back to him but at the worst of times.

  “Alright my little ruin walkers, now that introductions are done, let’s take the seal off this bad boy.” Above them, Soraso plunged his sword into the air above him. With what looked like considerable effort, he began carving a hole. Unlike the other ones he made, this one showed what was beyond. Not open sky, but a ceiling made from what looked to be a fusion of marble and plastic. “Well?” he asked expectantly. “Go on, get in!”

  …

  Every day that passed now was an unbearable torment for Mavar Helioc. It shouldn’t have made a difference, millennia had passed before this point, but it had finally happened.

  Hammer was vulnerable. And yet, it wasn’t the right time for him to strike. Not yet. It was almost a blessing as the drawbacks of his revival method still clung to him like thousands of pervasive hooks trying to drag him into a dark abyss. He was not immune to the horrors of the Crest, and it had been close. The crippling of his mana supply as his new body reinforced its structure had allowed the Tyrant to escape and foil the Spiritualist’s attempts at taking Aughal. No matter.

  His eyes were set on Rikendia, and his mind on speeding his recovery. One needed to be at their peak to kill a god. It had been his ambition since the day his people had been left behind as the gods, with casual resignation, condemned billions to the slaughter. They at least could have been taken, preserved. He knew why they hadn’t.

  Of all of them, Mavar had only vowed vengeance on one. Hammer. Of the two gods that had worked most closely with the Illustrious, he had been the most egregious in his lies and betrayal. Ironically it was Grave, the one they had managed to kill already, Mavar felt conflicted about.

  “Prime?” A voice cautiously broke through the inner maelstrom of his mind. Channeling these emotions had caused an observable effect on the mana around Mavar, a sign of his incorporation of intent in his recovery.

  It was a great ordeal to pause his recuperation, and yet to the one who had interrupted him it appeared as if he merely stood. This wasn’t Sasha, the one he had in mind to replace him one day should she continue to show promise. This was just one of the many of the collective, still with his level and in the clutches of the Octyrrum.

  “Speak quickly.”

  “We have confirmed the Entropic Agent is in Threst. It appears to be involved in attempts to recover the Astral Vessel.”

  “I see.” Torch’s deal still held despite the god having been taken care of, at least temporarily until they made the final blow, which introduced complications after something had gone wrong with their silent partner’s plan. He had still upheld his promises when it came to them but had failed to collect his reward. No matter. Mavar would brave the consequences of defying the deal if it came to it, but for now they had only limited ability to act or observe near one Daniel Brant.

  Truthfully, as Mavar always was, he saw no reason to go after the young man. Whatever damage he might do to prediction had already been done, and there was nothing he could do in the Astral Vessel. Hidden Spoke or not, some things were beyond man’s capability to redeem, and that place was chief among them. Grave had failed, he had failed, so who was this young, entangled mortal to do differently?

  That being said, he couldn’t ignore the effects of Daniel’s actions. Their tenuous allies in Aughal had been defeated by him, small in number though they were, and the new government there was objectively better suited to this new world. Threst was a different matter, but the Astral Vessel was an object of such importance that only his desire for vengeance trumped it. Both for their aims and for what it would deny the Spiritualists and old ones once the fragile alliance broke. He reconsidered the future, bereft of Foresight but not his own intelligence.

  The calculations went by quickly, assessing the readiness of his collective and the states of the various regions on this edge of the falling kingdom. He needed to make his enemies exhaust themselves while opening a path to Rikendia, and the continued presence of the Entropic Agent in this part of the Octyrrum was significant enough to require adjustment to his plans, along with determining why he had been left here.

  With a mental ping, he carefully decided on a radical new course of action. “Inform Enlightened Sasha Veltrex and Remir Cassar that they are to ready themselves, ten of our most promising, and a detachment of seventy combat ready individuals of at least level 5 or equivalent strength. I trust Sasha to see to the individual assignments.” Another good test for his protege who had come so far and yet had long to go. “Arm for an incursion into the Crest. We are claiming one of the birther golems from the old ones.”

  The simple man in front of him blinked at the drastic order remitted moments after he relayed the news, doubtlessly unable to follow the rationality. In fact, he even asked an inane question. “Are we saving the ones taken from Threst?”

  “No,” Mavar replied with a tone of cutting, devastating dismissal. “We are going to start a war.”