Chapter 129 ‒ Audience with the Sage
Chapter 129 ‒ Audience with the Sage
The cave walls seemed to breathe as Tyler stepped inside, the damp air curling around his ankles like thin, icy fingers. Stale torchlight flickered against the rough walls, casting long shadows that warped with every step. His boots dragged slightly, each footfall heavy with exhaustion — not just from the battles he had fought, but from the storms still raging inside his mind.
Yandeon sat upon a carved stone seat near the back of the chamber. The hybrid’s fur was smooth and carefully groomed, his amphibian eyes reflecting the flames like shallow pools of moonlit water. As Tyler approached, Yandeon’s lips curled into a grandfatherly smile, warm yet unsettling.
“Ah… welcome back, [Player],” Yandeon said, voice smooth as polished marble. “Truly, you have accomplished what many would consider impossible. You stand here today having gathered all five Divine Keys. A monumental feat — one deserving of the highest praise.”
Tyler paused at the edge of the room, his hand hovering unconsciously near the wooden medallion around his neck. His breath trembled as he struggled to form words, his mind drifting across countless faces — Zephryn’s solemn stare, Kragg’s fierce laughter, Anne’s shy smile beneath the moonlight, Miho’s innocent tears. Each step weighed down his shoulders like a mountain of ghosts.
Swallowing hard, Tyler finally spoke. “What… what happens to this world after I leave? Will it… keep going?”
Yandeon tilted his head slightly, eyes half-lidded in mock contemplation. “The world will continue, of course. Like a river that flows on, even if a single pebble is removed from its bed. You were but a ripple in this vast, ceaseless current.”
Tyler lowered his head. A ripple… just a ripple…
Yandeon continued in that same placid tone, each word gentle and cutting as a scalpel. “In truth, it is highly likely that you will forget everything. Once you cross back into your own realm, your memories of this place, of all its people, will fade like mist beneath the rising sun.”
Tyler’s fingers curled around Anne’s medallion, pressing it into his palm until the wood creaked. The thought of forgetting everyone — Zephryn’s rallying cries, Theodore and Nyelisse’s quiet kindness, Kragg’s earnest promises, Farnak’s loyal service, Miho’s bright, trembling gaze — it crushed him from the inside. Could he truly abandon them? Simply vanish as though he had never been?
A single tear slid down his cheek and vanished beneath his visor.
Yandeon leaned forward, his voice slipping into a low, conspiratorial whisper. “I do understand your hesitation, [Player]. It is only natural to form attachments when one lingers in a place for so long. The bonds you forge carve themselves into your marrow. But ask yourself — do you not yearn to return to your true world? To your brother, to the family that waits for you beyond this artificial dream? Can you truly forsake them for a land that was never yours to begin with?”
Tyler felt his lips tremble. He took a shaky breath, then another, before forcing himself to answer. “No… I want to go back. That’s all that matters. I’m no noble hero here to sacrifice myself for the world. I just… I just want to go back to my world and get rid of this… this monster that has taken root in my mind.”
Yandeon’s eyes gleamed with a thin sheen of delight, though his mouth stayed solemn. “Yes… and in returning, you shall be free. Your mind untainted, your soul unburdened. Once your memories are gone, so too will vanish every curse and power that shackles you. You will awaken as if from a deep, fevered dream.”
Tyler squeezed the medallion tighter, each heartbeat echoing like a war drum. His hand trembled, but he forced it back into his inventory, stowing away Anne’s final gift as though sealing a grave. Tears welled up, but he didn’t wipe them away.
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“Then… then how do I contact the Creator God?” Tyler asked, voice small and frayed. “I thought… after gathering the keys, a portal or a gate would appear. But nothing happened. What do I do now?”
Yandeon’s thin lips curled upward, forming a soft, patient smile that felt more like a knife’s edge. “Ah, the Creator God is a being of infinite vastness, who watches over the worlds from beyond the veils. He resides in Aether — a realm untouched by mortal decay and suffering. You see, these keys were not meant to simply summon a gate like some common spell.”
Tyler’s brow creased. “Aether…?”
Yandeon nodded slowly, as though explaining to a child. “Yes. Aether is the sacred plane where the Creator Dragon slumbers. But to reach it, one must perform an ancient summoning — a ritual so precise that a single misstep could shatter your soul beyond repair.”
Tyler swallowed. “Then… what must I do?”
Yandeon’s eyes glimmered, a thin, hungry glow igniting at their depths. “Why don’t you hand over the Divine Keys to me? I can prepare the summoning. I alone possess the knowledge to commune with the magic circle that can call forth the door to Aether.”
Tyler hesitated for a heartbeat. Then he slowly reached into his inventory, pulling out each key, their ethereal light glinting against the shadows. His fingers twitched as he handed them over, one by one. Each key seemed to weigh a thousand lives.
As Yandeon took the final key, the warmth in his eyes vanished in an instant, replaced by a glint as sharp as broken obsidian. His lips split into a crooked, predatory smile.
“Now!” Yandeon hissed, voice curling like poison smoke.
The chamber darkened abruptly. From the far end of the cave, a thick, viscous green fog began to pour inward, slithering along the floor and curling around Tyler’s ankles. The air turned acidic, searing his nostrils and throat. His head jerked toward the entrance, eyes wide.
[Myrrak Activated Skill: Poison Mist]
A low, chuckling laugh echoed through the fog. A familiar silhouette emerged — Myrrak, his serpentine eyes gleaming with unfiltered delight. He sauntered forward as though strolling through a moonlit garden, his clawed feet tapping softly.
“Hello [Player],” Myrrak drawled, each syllable slick as oil, “we meet again.”
Tyler stumbled back, coughing violently. “Wh… what? Why… are you here?”
Myrrak tilted his head slightly, his long tongue flicking across his teeth. “Haha! Oh, I cannot believe you actually fell for my pathetic sob story back then… truly, your naivety is almost poetic. But then again, you did gather all five keys for us. Perhaps you’re not completely worthless after all.”
Tyler tried to steady himself, sweat and poison mixing into a slick film. He activated [Undying Tenacity], feeling a brief surge of clarity pierce through the choking fog.
“Why?” Tyler gasped, voice cracking. “Why are you doing this?”
Myrrak’s eyes glittered, his laughter rolling low and cruel. “Why, you ask? You really think I was confined in that sanctuary by choice? You thought me some tragic creature bound by grief or vow? Hah! The truth is simpler. My territory was pitifully small because the other Primordial Beasts overshadowed me. They left me no room to breathe, no domain to poison!”
Tyler shook his head, blood pounding. “But… your followers… they all died…”
Myrrak burst into wild laughter, echoing against the stone like shrieking ravens. “Of course they died! That was the point, [Player]! I am the Primordial Beast of poison! Just as Shindeon was born to incinerate the world, I was born to drape it in my miasma — to watch it rot!”
Tyler’s lips parted, horror blooming in his eyes. “So… I was just… a pawn…”
Yandeon’s voice sliced into the air, calm and sharp as a blade. “A convenient vessel. A naive tool. Did you truly believe a god would grant a mortal’s wish out of charity? You were a means to an end, nothing more.”
Tyler staggered, eyes wide and unseeing. “But… why? You… I thought… you were a guide…”
Yandeon laughed softly, but there was no warmth. “Your blindness is your greatest weakness, [Player]. My desire has always been to transcend mortality. To ascend beyond these fragile husks and become as eternal as the Primordial Beasts. You were the perfect fool to gather the keys, too trusting to question… until now.”
He stepped forward, his silhouette warping in the flickering torchlight. “But now… your purpose is fulfilled. And so — DIE.”
In that instant, the shadows around Yandeon rippled. Pale, translucent figures began to materialize, shimmering with a cold blue glow. Ghostly warriors, wizened mages, towering knights — each bearing the hollow eyes of the long-forgotten dead. Their ethereal forms wavered like candle flames, yet moved with silent, lethal purpose.
Yandeon raised one clawed hand and pointed at Tyler.
“Wandering Ghosts,” he roared, voice echoing like thunder, “CHARGE!”
The army surged forward. Tyler’s eyes darted wildly as he drew his dark twin swords in one swift, shaking motion. Every muscle screamed, but he forced himself to stand, to breathe, to fight.
Through the rising fog and gleaming blades, a single thought clawed at Tyler’s heart, colder than any blade or poison: “I can’t die here… I won’t.”