Chapter 93 - [Remembrance of the Fallen]
A broken blade rattled as aura coursed through its enchanted metal. A wave of pure crimson flew forward to meet an iron wall. It held firm, the wave crashing uselessly once again. This time however, the gates swung against its attacker.
The broken blade screeched as it slid across Larix’s arm. Sparks flying out from the blade, completely unable to cut through. Ryan had finally run his aura dry.
Gamielle clapped her hands, satisfied by the result.
“Okay that should be enough.”
The adventurer collapsed to the ground, dead tired from the sparring. He stared at the sky covered by a magical dome. His right arm was practically damaged beyond repair. An amputation followed by a regeneration portion was the easiest solution at this point.
In Gamielle’s opinion, it was the perfect place to rebuild.
“Are you ready, Ryan?”
"Always.” He panted.
She changed her own visual sight, looking deeper, past her physical and metaphysical selves until she came across her true form. A golden line interwoven with layers and layers of other intricate lines. She was in the center of this great tapestry of interconnected paths, the representation of a skill unlike any other.
A Legend. Supposedly more grand than anything anyone could imagine.
The truth was, in the end Gamielle was just a thread of mental energy. A desperate skill created by a mother that refused to let go. Gamielle tugged on the thread, sending reverberations through the interwoven web.
A simple message carried out in hundreds of directions.
“Alright assholes. Who’s helping?”
A melodious note came back from one of the threads. The closest one, waiting nearby, having followed the pull of his class.
“Naturally, every tale needs a [Bard].”
Gamielle metaphysically rolled her eyes. Of course he knew to be close by. Someone else responded, one that hadn’t agreed to help until now.
“Fine.”
Another voice came across.
“I’ll gladly help-”
Gamielle firmly declined that thread.
“No, not you. Go away dad. I better not see you out and about.”
She ignored the helpless response from her father and continued with the task at hand. Responding to all the messages she was receiving. Logging which ones answered and which ones declined.
It was tiring work, Gamielle had been a true [Prodigious Mage] before she died, yet this skill was beyond anything she could truly handle. The problem was that the skill wasn’t traditional magecraft. No, this was a true Witch’s skill, a horrible, horrible Legend waiting for you at the end of [Emotional Resonance]. Possibly the worst skill of them all.
Worse than even Indigo’s.
Gamielle opened her eyes and stared at Ryan who had stopped to stare. His expression was priceless. He’d gotten somewhat acceptable at energy control and could see the surface of what she was doing.
She smirked.
A grand tapestry of mental energy shot into the sky. Mana and qi weaving towards it in impossible harmony. Something only for the Witch that had spent countless hours studying every form of energy. Her mother had the original scrolls of Lu Baizhen, the cultivator that came with Sector Eleven. She shared notes with the Archmage Tyrant himself. Both having peered into spell circles that maintained The Realm itself.
The Witch Tyrant had attempted for countless hours to weave mana and qi together, never quite crafting a skill beyond an Epic. The real breakthrough came when she lost her daughter. In a fit of madness she discarded all the carefully crafted diagrams, arrays and spell circles.
Instead she threw all of her energy into a singular mental thread. Letting mana and qi flow freely as they started forming into something that Xie Lihua was desperate to have. Something that was impossible with the underlying enforcement of this world’s reality.
But that was what a Legend was. They went beyond the bounds of reality. The Trial System dutifully helped to stabilize the skill and a terrible Legend had been created.
The threads Gamielle wanted returned with a reply. Most were a resounding yes, eager to see the student that Gamielle apparently talked too much about.
One thread had cut itself loose. Her mother took that moment to let that one free. Fuck.
There was nothing she could do about that now. Gamielle pulled the threads until they started manifesting in the air around them. Even ordinary humans would be able to see it now. Ryan’s and Larix’s faces were awed at the display of a fraction of the Legend.
A moment like this needed an introduction. She spoke airily.
“People talk about obtaining a Legend like it’s an end goal. The final achievement, or a skill that would put them beyond everyone else.”
She pulled the manifested threads from the air, straining against the skill, against the Legend. Gamielle could control it because she was the skill itself. The core. The Witch’s Daughter. The Legend would accept no less. Even her mother didn’t dare fully utilize this skill without her help.
Gamielle continued.
“They all think that the Tyrants are above them because most of them have a Legend and they do not. That is true.”
The courtyard lit up like a beacon, the enchantments on the ceiling of the obsidian sect began to rattle as it tried to contain the reality bending ripples of a Legend. The enchantments held, but only because Gamielle wasn’t pushing the skill to its fullest. She pulled the threads together, enclosing them in her hands. Her hands clasped like it was in a prayer.
This was indeed was a holy moment.
“What they don’t realize is that the Witch Tyrant is the only one with two Legends.”
Her voice changed to a reverberating echo. The Legend echoing out into the whole sect.
[Remembrance Of The Fallen]
–
Ryan wasn’t sure what to expect when a Legend activated in front of his face, the second Legend of the Witch Tyrant. Even in his wildest dreams he hadn’t expected that. The idea of an unparalleled Legend of illusions had already unnerved him.
This skill was something else entirely. Its name seared in his mind without the help of the Trial System. Now the only thing he could see, hear or even think about was the Legend.
Great branching threads of gold shot into the air above them, the tendrils warping and piercing the skies, disappearing into the void. It was like a giant twisting tree of gold that originated from Gamielle’s enclosed palms.
Larix kneeled. The sect leader couldn’t bow his head, he was the same as Ryan. Completely unable to look away.
The branches began to shake, vibrating the very air around it. He began to wonder if a Legend manifestation was about to occur, those great concentric folds in the sky when people activated their Legends. But they didn’t, Gamielle was keeping the skill contained, or at least that’s what he had thought.
Gamielle was wrestling with the skill, struggling to keep her hands together. Her hands shook, gritting her teeth and keeping it contained.
She didn’t need to wrestle with the threads for too much longer. A bulging pulse came back from one of the great branches in the air. At the top of the branch, a golden figure of light appeared, floating towards the ground.
A man… a man with a shoulder strapped custom keyboard piano.
No, it can’t be.
The [Bard] gave Ryan a wink.
“[Righteous Rhythm]”
The [Bard] started playing a melody, one that invigorated the soul. The sounds were not of a piano but of drums, drums and percussion. Ozyell, the one man keyboard [Bard].
Gamielle gave a look of thanks as her struggle lessened with the buffing melody.
Another light appeared, faster this time. An orc Ryan didn’t recognize towered over Gamielle and put his hand above hers. He swept all of the threads in one massive palm and shook the golden branches himself.
“[Hurry The Fuck Up].”
Ryan had never heard of that skill before. Even to him it seemed absolutely sacrilegious at this moment. It made the branches shake harder as Gamielle glared up at the orc. He snorted at her, contemptuous at her lack of strength. That only lasted until his hand started shaking. Then the orc’s eyes grew wide as his hands started unraveling.
He hurried to put both hands around the skill.
The orc cleared his throat in embarrassment.
“[Chieftain’s Call: Rally To Me], [Comrades In Arms].”
The threads all seemed to react at the same time, it pulled in the orbs of light as they exploded into vision and fell from the skies. Motes of golden light drifted from the sky as the Ozyell the [Bard] turned into a complete one man orchestra. His fingers blurred on the keyboard piano, switching modes and playing all the instruments, all at once.
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“[Grand Entrance]”
Then the Fallen appeared, past and dead. First dozens, then hundreds. All wearing different equipment. Not all of them were adventurers either. There were famous Realmers who had achieved some level of power. Those that The Realm had once called Archmages and had been lost to war and realm expansions.
Some appeared with a laugh, hugging each other or Gamielle. Many of them glared at someone else and stepped away from each other. There was even a dog with a wagging tail, looking up at a stern elven [Beast Tamer] with a look of adoration.
Ryan’s heart dropped as he recognized so many of them. Then looked at the [Bard] playing his heart out. Ozyell wasn’t supposed to be dead, he’d played at a concert last month. But if they were all like Gamielle…
How many famous adventurers were dead and nobody knew?
He wanted to throw up for each adventurer he recognized that was supposed to be alive. All these powerful and talented people. Far beyond him. They had all died along the way.
Gamielle finally let go of the threads and let out a sigh of relief. She punched the orc’s shoulder as hard as she could. A blow that would have pulverized his head. The orc was completely unmoved.
“You impatient asshole, you made that way harder than it should’ve been.”
The orc didn’t say anything, he put his own burnt hands behind his back and turned to look at Ryan. Actually, most of the fallen were staring at him, evaluating him and making him uncomfortable. The combined presence of hundreds of high realm adventurers made him almost step back. Almost.
He tried to flare his aura until he realized he’d drained it all. None of these people staring would give even a kindling towards his aura. Damn. Someone laughed. An elf with a flat mowhawk stepped up.
“So this brat’s the famous Artigan? He doesn't seem like much, Gammy.”
Ryan’s eye twitched, “Well I don’t recognize you despite your terrible hairstyle, so you really can’t be much.”
There was laughter from the crowd of the Fallen. The elf with the mowhawk looked embarrassed, then pissed off. He appeared in front of Ryan in a flash, grabbing him by his robes and pulling him in the air.
“Name’s Rodstead you little punk. Look me up ‘fore I kick your stupid ass.”
Punk? What generation was this elf even from? Ryan sneered.
“Picking on an adventurer a quarter of your realm? Why don’t you at least wait until I’m classed up instead of punching down a third realm.”
There was an “ooo” from a few members of the crowd. Yep, there were quite a few modern adventurers in the crowd too. They were absolutely enjoying stirring shit from the background. The pissed off mowhawk elf noticed the judgemental looks from some of the other adventurers and threw Ryan back onto the ground. The elf pointed at his own chest with a thumb.
“Alright punk, we’ll fight when you hit the ninth realm, my realm. We’ll make it a fucking show.”
Well, that wasn’t good. Ryan was hoping with the speed the elf so casually displayed that the dude was at least a dragonslayer.
Still, it wasn’t like he was going to back down from a challenge.
“Sure. Loser pays ten million?”
The punk elf looked at him like he’d said the weirdest thing in the world
“Money? We bet relics. Ten million? You poor or somethin?”
“Well it’s all I have, but sure if I have a relic then I’ll bet it when I get there.”
The elf snorted and blurred his way back into the crowd. Either way, Ryan’s point had been made, less people were looking at him like he was a disappointment. Most still did, but that was to be expected, Ryan really was just a third realm after all.
Gamielle just shook her head as Ozyell laughed. He tapped on his keyboard piano in delight, the [Bard] walked up to Ryan and clapped him on his shoulder.
“A fantastic duel, a challenge accepted. Another story to be told.”
Ryan froze as his attention was brought back to the [Bard]. Not a [Bard] but the [Bard] that was famous for pioneering his route. Ozyell had been ostracized for taking such a useless class until he’d shown how useful a free buffing bard could be. Ryan was still both starstruck and horrified at the realization.
So of course he said the dumbest thing he could.
“I’m sorry that you’re dead.”
It had been awhile since he was so shaken. Ryan decided he would punch himself later. Thankfully, Ozyell didn’t miss a beat, the charming [Bard] laughed joyously and led the conversation.
“Ah but my music is eternal, my adventurous friend. Now, I heard you liked my composition on the Artigan videos. I must say I did put in a heroic tone along with the savagery and I’m glad I did. I’d like to finish that composition with the real you. Come on, sit with me while they organize all the boring stuff. I heard you wanted a theme song! Oh! An elf after my own heart!”
Was… was Ozyell flirting with him? He had heard that [Bard] was a notorious bisexual but the sudden flirting and the dragging away in front of the whole crowd had completely thrown him off. A spectral hand bonked the [Bard] on the head.
Ryan snapped out of it and only just realized he had been getting dragged away from the crowd. He quickly checked his [Rebellious] title and wondered if the [Bard] had some sort of social skill. Surely not.
Gamielle had her hands on her hips glaring at the flirtatious [Bard].
“Ozyell, behave or I’ll replace you with Monica.”
The [Bard] looked mortified. A similar expression that Ryan realized he was wearing himself.
“No! She’s but a second rate storyteller. Monica may be a [Maestra] but she’s too selfish, this is a tale, Gamielle! Artigan needs a proper progression. A four part composition that builds up with his mmmm mmm!-”
Gamielle snapped her fingers and Ozyelle's mouth shut closed.
Ryan shook his head at the display, then went back to watching the others around him. So many adventurers. All dead. Many of them had fallen off from public interest or were thought to have retired. It would have shaken the world to know the truth. They all stood there, staring at him.
All of these people were here to help him. Gamielle turned to address the crowd.
“Alright, you all know the plan. Make your teams and get into position. Tap your thread when you're ready. I’ll tap back as the signal to attack. Once you’re done tap back. Then again once you’re safe.”
They started getting into groups. The teams seemingly predetermined as the adventurers shuffled together quickly, clasping arms or nodding at each other.
Ryan nudged the half floating [Mage].
“Attacking? Gamielle what’s going on?”
“Shush, I’ll explain afterwards,” then she turned back to the crowd, “If any of you has a message for Artigan here, say it now.”
Her saying Artigan meant that these people didn’t know he wasn’t actually a silver haired elf. Ryan straightened up as the crowd of Fallen went back to evaluating him. He wasn’t so sure why he was so nervous, it was just a couple hundred high realm adventurers. That was all. Most of them hesitated, not sure which person to go up first.
The [Hurry The Fuck Up] orc barreled his way forward. This orc’s presence felt like a dragonslayer, but so had Rodstead. The orc knelt so that he was at eye level with Ryan. Somehow it made the orc more threatening.
“Don’t go seeking trouble with the Witch Tyrant. You would not want to fight me.”
Ryan opened his mouth. Before he could speak, Gamielle whispered into his ear.
“Don’t say something stupid. This one will actually kill you and I won’t be able to stop him in time.”
Ryan cleared his throat, “What trouble could I possibly make for the Witch Tyrant? I’m just a third realm.”
The orc head went closer to his. Could this orc tell that Ryan was planning something? Why the fuck was a dragonslayer telling a third realm not to make trouble for a goddamn Tyrant? Ryan was starting to wish more people would underestimate him and not the other way around.
A woman stepped forward, her heels clacking on the ground, her armor had cloth interwoven between the platejoints. White and black, almost suitlike in some areas. Ryan recognized her. Dragonslayer, eleventh realm, Cinnabon [The Magelancer Extraordinaire]. She wasn’t just a [Dragonslayer Spellblade], she was a true high ranker. Or rather, she had been. Finding out that she’d actually died made him feel like shit.
This was one less powerful good person in the world.
The [Magelancer] tapped the orc on the shoulder with her lance and gave him a deathly glare. The orc stood back up and towered over the smaller woman. Gamielle appeared next to Cinnabon and did a shooing motion to the orc.
“Okay, you said your piece. Now it’s her turn.”
The orc snorted but still complied. [The Magelancer Extraordinaire] gave the orc a faint smile.
“The dead shouldn’t impose their will on the living,” she then turned to Ryan, “Live your life Artigan. Just remember your dues.”
Suddenly the [Magelancer] loomed over him, her presence all encompassing as it swallowed the world. A shimmering lance of silver hovered over him, ready to drop on his head. Ryan knew it was a spell construct but everything told him it was real, and that if it decided to drop on his head, he’d be dead.
“I’ll be watching.”
When he looked back down, the [Magelancer] was gone. Someone laughed as they made his way up to him. A human adventurer came up to him as he looked behind at where the [Magelancer] was now loitering.
“Showoff!”
The man gave Ryan a big smile, his arms spread like he was expecting a hug. The man’s footsteps faltered when he saw Ryan’s confused face.
“You don’t recognize me? Gamielle told me you’re a huge fan of adventurers, I’m one of THE original adventurers. Ferreton of the Missile Boys. Huh?!”
Ryan blinked, he hadn’t ever heard of the team or of Ferreton before. A voice called out.
“Oi Ferret. Nobody knew your class before we got wiped. We kept it quiet cause we though it was stupid.”
“Alright, screw it.”
The man also appeared by his side in a flash, he gave one of Ryan’s shoulders a squeeze.
“Artigan, I need you to spread the word that Ferreton of the Missile Boys was the original [Great Adventurer] alright? I always knew being an [Adventurer] was the right way forward. Gamielle tells me you get me. You get me right?”
“Can’t you do it yourself?” Ryan asked.
“We have rules,” Ferreton gave Gamielle a dirty look, “Well some of us have rules. We can’t influence the living too much.”
Ryan frowned, “Isn’t telling me to spread your message influencing the living?”
Ferreton gave him a stiff smile, then he put Ryan in a headlock.
Why was it always a headlock with older adventurers?
“Now listen here. You get a bit of privilege, nobody’s gonna stop you from typing some stuff out on the internet about me that people can fact check. If I don’t hear about me on the internet, you’ll be hearing about me in The Realm got it?”
“Okay, okay. I got it.”
Ryan was decidedly not going to write anything about Ferreton on the internet. How stupid would it be to dig up someone retired from decades ago and start fanposting about them? Even Seffara’s stuff didn’t make global news these days.
Believing that Ryan would comply, Ferreton let go of him and walked back to his team. Ryan rubbed his throat as he looked at the rest of the adventurers. He was now much less excited about meeting the rest of them.
Of course he still grinned at them. He wasn’t backing down to a bunch of ghosts.
“Okay, I think that’s three death threats and one duel. Who’s next?”
Over fifty adventurers started stepping forwards. Ryan turned to Gamielle who also realized the problem.
“Alright, how many of you are going to give Artigan thinly veiled threats or demands? Step back now. He’s not going to back down and you’re going to get annoyed.”
Over half of them stopped themselves and stepped back. Gamielle glared at the rest and more started stepping back.
–
Messages from the Fallen:
“Good luck. The Witch Tyrant will put you through hell but it’s worth it if you’re seeking the top. Don’t worry about that old orc, we’ll help you out if he tries anything.”
“That robe is crafted from mink hide. Steer clear from these areas in Sector Seven. Trust me you don’t want to get chased down by an army of angry minks. Yes, I said army, it’s a lot worse than what they say online.”
“Get too strong too quickly and the Passive Tyrant will come visit. Whatever you do, no matter how strong you think you are, tell her no. Especially if you’re on your last life. Saying yes is how I died. I think only one ever survived and it's that stupid orc over there.”
“Stay away from the Skillful Tyrant. The higher realm you get. The deeper you want to be in the leveled zones. Worst comes to worst, make sure you have Gamielle around or stay out of The Realm. If you’re strong enough, stick to leveled zones,and stay one realm below the Tyrants then even they won’t be able to push you around… don’t ask me to explain… ah he won’t have to worry about him? Hm, fair enough, I misjudged I guess.”
“If you meet the [Stallmaster Thief] tell them ‘Jade stalls the [Rogue] but not the dead. Four ticks two left in the twelfth zone’ got it? Repeat it to me now… Again. Remember this. Tell this to her and she’ll owe you one. But watch your pockets. She’ll still try to steal from you no matter what. She gets advantages depending on how much she’s stolen from you.”
–
The teams split off one at a time, all heading towards different directions. Most flew high into the sky. Then powering their way to their targets. Only Ozyell, Gamielle and Larix remained with him.
Ryan just watched in awe.
“I don’t understand why we need a group of people that could annihilate every country on Earth.”
It really put perspective on how much the Witch Tyrant had kept hidden all this time. If the Witch Tyrant learned that Legend, then there would be nothing stopping her from sweeping the entirety of Earth. Hell, if every single one of them actually followed orders, wouldn’t it make the Witch the strongest Tyrant of them all?
He just had no idea why a force like that was needed to help him with his arm.
Gamielle had a wistful look.
“The core of your Epic has a passive that’s constantly getting fed by the perception of you in the same dimension. This includes videos of you. The videos I set up, the ones that are constantly getting views. We’re going to remove that and give everyone in The Realm something else to focus on.”
“Remove the video? How does that make sense?”
“We’re going to attack The Realm and take down the Realmnet. Then you’re going to fully drain your passive and relocate the core into your arm. Then comes the hard part. The thing you’ve been training for. You’re going to try to exceed the perfection of the Trial System itself.”