The Apprentice of Ouroboros [Monster Evo LitRPG Adventure]

In all his years of traversing this blasted landscape and beyond, the Traveller reached one disappointing conclusion:

The ruins of Arivol had seen better days.

The Traveler looked around attentively, searching for the things that tried to hide from his attention. The decay and disrepair that everything had fallen into over the twenty years since the devastation was noteworthy, in its thoroughness. Only a stray rat garnered any special attention. The Varadur had repaired damage to some structures since that time, but how does anyone rebuild from total catastrophic damage?

A town of a thousand people had lived and loved here. Now only dust and echoes remained, plus the rat scurrying into a hole in a crumbling wall. The Traveler's boots clicked over crushed paver stones and past the listing ruins of brick-and-mortar buildings. Charred sticks where smaller family homes once stood jutted from the ground like rotted wooden teeth.

He hesitated as he balanced on a rotting wood plank crossing one of the gaping pits that had opened during the destruction. He could see the bottom of this one. He couldn't say the same for others; some rifts had consumed whole segments of towns, farms, and forests, swallowing them back into an abyss that no man would ever look upon again. A skeleton of a humanoid was half buried, arms still reaching forward as if the world itself had chopped him in half at the waist.

He wondered if the new management cared for a change of scenery at some point, or if there would be more organized efforts to rebuild. The reconstruction that had taken place barely brought the area above abject poverty. Many buildings and ruins would need to be completely demolished, and the large trenches in the world would need to be filled in.

The Traveler marched along alone, having been summoned directly by the Radiant King. Not through the Interface this meeting necessitated an in-person presence, given its significance. He wish the summons hadn't come within seconds of finding his quarry.

The snake.

Or what had neen merely a snake, now turned into a peculiar lamia. This was the first person of interest he'd followed in a long time. He'd been half-tempted to refuse the King, but he would not suffer excuses.

He should have refused if only to gather more information, while his quarry retreated to heal and continued to build her strength. But maybe, just maybe, His Radiance knew something more.

That summons had been days ago. He could travel at speed without requiring break, and was spared the inconvenience of needing to sleep. He only needed to briefly stop for eating and drinking during his occasional rests.

He hadn't slept since the night the rifts opened. After being without it this long, he lamented that all humanoids grossly underrated it.

Soon, the ruined city of Gravost loomed before him. The cityscape bore the same visual profile he remembered from 20-plus years ago. Some reinforced and magically constructed buildings survived, but much of the lesser infrastructure had collapsed when the rifts opened. The rifts were like scars of the world itself, following the ascension of their Radiant King.

In what remained of the cityscape, he recognized several locations. The temple that housed the Pantheon of the Divines remained intact; it loomed at the crest of a low hill on the eastern side of the city, seven spindly spires rising over the bulk of a large, cylindrical building capped with a cathedral dome. Ruined remnants of flags still fluttered, though he didn't know how they survived this long.

Maybe somebody sent goblins or other workers up there to reattach them, or perhaps winged Varadur. It felt like a little bit of a mockery, considering the divines would never have wanted their Temple of worship to be ruined like this.

No. Defiled was probably the right term to describe it.

Surrounding the outskirts of the city were the ruined Commons, where the lower and middle classes had run about their daily lives. All that industry and thousands of lives, cut short during one cataclysmic night. The houses were little more than rubble and skeletons of their former selves, the streets nothing more than black and cracked stonework jutting from the ground at odd angles.

There had been a river running around the outskirts of the city, but now it drained into one of the rifts. A waterfall fed by brackish water cascaded into the abyss in a silent roar.

He would have thought the rift would have been filled after 20 years, but apparently, that wasn't the case. Probably better not to question the nature of bottomless pits.

On the left, in the western portion of the city, was a pyramidal structure of the imperial citadel. It was surprisingly intact, considering it had been the epicenter of the incident.

Even though the streets were broken, the city wasn't dead so much as what he viewed as infested by vermin and lesser creatures. Goblins and rat-like aberrations dwelled in the squalor. The kobolds were industrious, having made valiant efforts to repair the damage or erect new structures.

Of course, judging by one pancaked building, their efforts required more aggressive supervision. If they had more damn dragons among the Varadur to direct these miniature terror lizards, they'd be unstoppable.

Above him, greater creatures soared on patrols: harpies and firebirds, all dressed in crude uniforms, flying in a loose delta formation. That had been a new addition of late, as if scales, chitin and flesh were now an unsightly appearance. The Traveler himself still relied on his own abilities rather than any armor or gambison.

The rocky golems at the gate to the former Imperial Palace stepped in front of him, silent except for the grind of minerals in their body. He let his guise fall for a second. With equal silence, they stepped aside.

They knew who he was. The goblins and rat-things stayed out of his way, watching with beady eyes in the depths of their hidden places.

The palace interior remained utterly intact, down to the metal bell announcing arrivals, though a few bricks were cracked and a few glass panes had shattered during the disaster that had yet to be repaired. The decor inside was drearier than he remembered. Likely by the minotaurs who made trophies of every corpse. Better tastes than a goblin was not much of a compliment, however.

Still, he had to give them credit: despite their cow-like appearance and easily roused anger, they made for excellent shock troops and could be trained in sophisticated, humanoid tactics. Given enough time, at any rate.

A Varadur dropped from a stone archway separating two rooms, having been hanging on the ceiling. The top half of him was human enough, except for his monstrous spider-like lower body and four eyes on his face, the second set resting above the first. He spoke with a chittering undertone.

“The Radiant King is expecting you.”

“I am early. I shall not keep him waiting further,” the Traveler answered calmly. Without another word, the drider disappeared as suddenly as he appeared, hovering over the Traveler’s head, all four eyes focused on him. “You don’t have to stare, you know.”

“It’s my job to stare,” the drider called out with a soft chuckle echoing from above. “Plus, if you weren’t supposed to be here, you’d already be wrapped up in my webs.”

So dramatic. The Traveler proceeded along the cracked black-and-white tiling, the polish obscured by dust and grime. A few goblins were attempting to clean it with buckets of dirty water and some crude chemicals that were more likely to set things on fire than they were to mitigate spills and stains. They watched him with twitchy reactions, and a few hoots were exchanged between the two.

He remembered the palace staff from before. The kind smiles he used to receive when he walked through unimpeded, from the royal guards to the servant girls who kept the place tidied and the guests entertained and welcomed. He tried to keep a smile from forming as the nostalgia of those days crept in.

It lingered for one second as he remembered the five years it took for it all to fall apart. The nightmare that soon followed.

Those two goblins...who had they been, before? He hoped they couldn't remember. It would be a kindness if they didn't. He pressed onward.

Another set of guards, a pair of drakeans, loomed over a doorway made of stamped and etched metal, leading to the throne room. "Bold of you to get this far, human," it snarled.

"Oh." He triggered his ability and felt his body ripple, giving them a quick viewing of his form. The first guard's breath hitched, just a little. "Satisfied?"

"I...I see. Proceed." The reptilian guard tipped his head, then withdrew his halberd, his tail sweeping behind him to avoid any obstruction. His mirror partner did the same, and the massive double door opened with a creak of rusty hinges.

A burst of humid and pungent air billowed out of the entryway. The Traveler stepped forward, his boots echoing across the vast space. Blackened tile with the gloss of obsidian lay beneath him, and he stepped forward, several elite kobolds wearing armor of ornately carved bone and shed scales, spears in hand and eying the Traveler with curiosity.

In front of the him stood a large oaken table far wider than any tree he had ever seen, over a dozen chairs set aside. On that table was a map of the western and southern continents, showing topographical lines and points of interest, natural and urban. Three Varadur loomed over it, poring over details and figurines, each speaking quietly to attendant kobolds writing notes for them.

All three of the larger Varadur were champions of each of their respective species: a dragon, a medusa, and surprisingly, an orc dressed in well-worn but serviceable armor.

The ridgeback dragon with dark black scales turned its neck, leering at the Traveler with malicious intent. His discourteous glare was joined by the medusa next to him, her dozens of tiny snakes snapping at the air and hissing at him, draped from what would be her hair. The orc gazed up with a slowly roused interest, brow creased in curiosity. He was as tall as he was broad, dressed in ebony armor, and stood stoically, his piglike face and narrow eyes focusing on the Traveler.

“Enough, you two. He’s come far for this.” The words of the orc carried an undercurrent of power, and the dragon scoffed before shrugging its wings, and the medusa’s snake follicles fell flat. “Greetings and well met. How was the trip?”

“Scenic. And filled with frequent sidestops that were burning before I got there.” The Traveler's tone changed, amused by this orc. He was not like the other two, where their power was displayed externally and for all to see. Power subtly coursed through the orc, despite his smaller frame. At any other point in time, a dragon and an orc holding equivalent stature would have been a joke at the dragon's expense. Not here, and not today.

“You’ve been gone for a while. What changed?” The orc added after a dramatic pause. “I presume he called for you, too?”

“I’ve been busy listening to whispers. Whispers of intent. My path brought me across the gap to the town of Peolein, then Bregin. From there, Earthspire and beyond."

The orc narrowed his eyes. “What sent you to those backwater regions? There are no major threats or opportunities there. The Valosians hold the line well, even if they’re thinly spread. And they’re stronger than their numbers suggest. The Sarpathi expanse out west is an easy target, but there’s just farmland and tiny settlements. Well, except to starve them out come winter, but that's not a high-priority task yet, nor is it guaranteed success."

The Traveler stepped toward the map, the medusa coiling her serpentine lower body to allow him access. He tapped on the map gently, gazing at the three of them in turn. “I didn’t stop at Earthspire, nor did I detour to Sarpathi. I passed through the walls of Rivilat, then the Arcesti Hills. A trail of power has been seeping through each of these places.”

Now the dragon and the medusa glanced at each other, intrigued by his words. “Why?” the medusa asked in a hesitant hiss. He saw her snakelike hairs alert, now. "What could garner such interest from you?"

The orc grunted, casting a glance over his shoulder. “He knows why.” The dragon and the medusa cast a wary glance at the shadowy archway where the private chambers of the former king would have been.

Everyone understood perfectly well that only one thing came out of that doorway. Anything that went in didn’t come back out.

Materials. Meals. Slaves. All such things vanished as if they never were.

The orc pointed at him. “Do enlighten us. Why have you risked your presence in the lands of the humanoids looking as you are?”

The Traveler hadn’t always looked like this. It was just a new, unassuming form that allowed him free passage where he needed to be, and disappeared out of the thoughts of the unwary as if they’d never seen him.

The shadowy door creaked open. Everyone turned to look at it. The dragon and the medusa hid their fears well, though the dragon’s claws did gouge into the floor a little harder, and the medusa’s snake strands all lay flat, as if pretending not to exist. The orc showed no response at all.

Orcs would have been considered disposable berserkers by any measure. They were locked to a maximum of Tier three. The Traveler had known him for years, but hadn't seen him for at least two winters, now. He was certainly stronger than before.

He suspected the orc was more than Tier three, based on that magical aura around him. The unflappable stoicism and unwavering composure were an evolutionary ability that would empower his counterparts. An Elite? No. Something else was at work. He’d solve this one later…or maybe he could ask him.

“Eryes. Valtur. Karshak. Leave the chambers. We will resume in the morning.” The voice in the back of that entryway spoke as if they’d been in the chamber the entire time, listening in.

Not a single one of them objected and turned to leave without a single word. The dragon, however, brushed by so closely that a wing clipped the Traveler's shoulder on the way out.

That one was always petty. He knew the Traveler had done much to earn his position.

The orc paused only briefly, leaning in to speak to the Traveler. “Something happened that’s got him on edge.” The subtle warning and whisper-quiet tone told the Traveler he should proceed cautiously.

The door closed behind the trio, and the Traveler stretched lightly. “Isn’t this a bit theatrical?”

“Lording and theater share very similar skill sets. But you would know this best, wouldn’t you?”

The Traveler nodded as the door latched behind the figure, and the new arrival walked out across the tile floor toward the operational map. “I might know a thing or two about it. Owing to the hundreds of masks I’ve worn.”

The figure wasn’t more than a flicker of something that used to be humanoid. He had all the appearance of one–a head, two arms, two eyes, two legs. He had a humanoid face and a trimmed black beard, a vestige from before.

But something else leaked around the edges of him. Something that left the blood of even the Traveler chilled just looking at it for too long. The figure wore a simple circlet, blackened and cracked on their head. It ran in stark contrast to the otherworldly, pale light that shone through their body, highlighting blackened bones within the depths that carefully sculpted energy given physical form. A maddening whisper ran through the air in their presence, slipping and sliding out of his mind like worms through damp, rich earth.

The only outward sign of his unease was the clearing of the Traveler's throat. “I bring news. Judging by that look in your eyes, I think you might already know.”

“Report the facts, first.” The words clawed at the air itself, the figure’s words little more than a primal growl. “I sent you to Peolein when Marikand relayed the results of his shortcomings. What did you find?”

“Wreckage. And a mess to clean up. Barely got out of there before the Valosian army showed up,” he gestured to a small satchel on his flank. “I haven’t had time to take inventory. I was in a hurry, following a trail of power. The witch secured her works protectively, and I doubt I got all of them.”

The spectre raised a brow, voids where eyes should be. “Go on.”

“I haven’t had a chance to speak to Marikand, either. Is he dead?”

“No. Reassigned and laying low, until I otherwise specify. I still have use for him. Risha Aksen is dead, though it's a less-than-optimal result. He’s taken the Seekers and made them as much of a threat to the Awakened as the rest of the fodder,” the figure said, curling his fingers into the glass display on the map, near the Crimson Keep. The Traveler heard the scrape of glass that followed the motion.

It would have been enough noise to make any mortal cringe. He didn’t, however. “I wasn’t able to keep up with the aura, but I know from others that the creature is a serpent. I couldn’t go directly into the Academy–too well warded against magical intrusion. She chose a–”

He trailed off. The fervor apparent in the figure’s face left him far less comfortable than he had been entering the room. “You’ve seen her.”

“Veelah is dead. That traitorous bug. I could never hold onto the whole swarm. Too distributed to assert control. Perhaps it's better if the entire hive burned. Traitors, all of them.”

The figure slammed his hand down on the glass, cracking it. The magical enchantment of repair was slow to heal the seeping cracks, and the figure tapped on the blackened crown on his head.

The Traveler almost told him it wasn’t crooked, but silence was wiser. He waited a second for the figure to gesture to him with a single raised hand. “That would likely mean the Hive Instance is destroyed then. A pity. But not an unrecoverable loss. You diverted me before I could investigate the site, or the serpent." He left out the part on why he thought the snake was important. Better to see what the King would reveal first.

“The calculus has changed. Neska Aksen was the one who destroyed the core. She is much stronger, now.”

The Traveler hesitated to speak. “Is she what I think she is?”

“The witch’s contingency.” The figure clenched their fists tightly, black bones radiating through the pale flesh. “I should have known Risha would turn on me once she realized my intentions. Apparently, the scared, passive witch I knew was a facade all along. She couldn’t stop me from gaining power, but she poisoned the source all the same. Now I can’t pull any of the souls from the Shoal.”

And it’s better that you can’t. Risha’s only mistake was her misguided love, a sickeningly human gesture. Otherwise, you’d have been obliterated so completely that even the memory of you would be stripped from the cosmos.

The Traveler knew all this figures’ secrets, from before and after the Sundering. Including the ones no one was supposed to know. He knew the Radiant King was as deadly as he was blinded by obsession.

One bony finger pointed at the Traveler. “What of the Academy?”

“They’re dealing with a third-party problem we are currently capitalizing on–I believe it’s an insurgent Awakened looking to cut out their own piece of real estate, if humanity succeeds.”

“That insurgent tipped off Marikand to Risha. They also failed to warn him that her power was near peak, and she was expecting them. He is no longer a usable ally, and I would go so far as to call him adversarial."

“May I be direct?” The Traveler waited for the near-imperceptible nod before proceeding. “Based on my rough calculations, Neska Aksen’s power will continue to increase exponentially. She will soon influence others by the example she is setting. Unlike the witch…she will use everything in her power to destroy or force the Varadur to capitulate. Because nothing is holding her back.”

“What do you propose?”

“You kill a witch with another witch,” he answered. “The Monarch is restless, underutilized. The Sarpathi wilderness is an excellent opportunity to lay a trap for the snake. He also survived an encounter with Risha some years prior in one of of prior failed efforts. I can think of no other member of our collective that has better motivation to even the score.”

White teeth flecked with radiant darkness grinned. "Excellent. If she is anything like Risha... she will be easy to draw out when others are in danger. Make this a priority. I want the Sarpathi wilderness turned to ash or under our control before the Autumn moon."

But the Radiant King's reaction changed, going from contemplative to amused. He tilted his head, and the figure now bore a frown. "You know something else."

This was the part he wasn't going to want to hear. "There is an unknown factor in play. One, I suspect you are aware of."

"She's incorruptible. I've tried repeatedly. Each attack leaves her more resistant."

The Traveler raised a brow. "Curious. But, my concern is something far more dangerous."

He withdrew a sketch of a wolflike figure, hastily drawn and committed to memory. That Varadur had chosen to hold forces and not engage the snake after their emergence from the mine. He didn't understand why until he considered something that shouldn't be possible. "This one should be connected, but isn't. Something broke his connection to the Collective. I couldn't reach out to him. This one was also spotted in an altercation with the snake weeks prior. In Bregin."

The king sucked in his breath sharply. "She broke the connection? How? Why did you not eliminate him?"

"I don't know how, yet. But...I suspect that Veelah also had her connection broken, in her final moments. As for why that one is still breathing...there are questions yet to answer."

The Radiant King steepled his fingers together, composed and calm. "Not only that. The insect resisted my influence, even with the core lodged in her back. That was unexpected."

The Traveler finally understood when he showed the king the fragments he obtained from Risha's ruined home. "Do you know what this is?"

The king's face remained calm, but his fingers twitched. He knew. "It's a Tier five core from her," the Traveler continued. "It was supposedly destroyed. I recognized the energy signature."

The Traveler knew better than to state it aloud. But the temptation of this terrible knowledge proved too much to withstand. "What is her Tier, currently? Two? She's already hitting above that, by far, if she has taken out foes a full Tier above her. I have an inkling as to why."

He paused and cleared his throat. This next question could get him killed. "Her Divine core is active, isn't it?"

The Radiant King nodded. "Of all the Divines to lose control of, it's this one that is the most troublesome. We must destroy her and regain control of it. If she ever reaches Tier six, you know what will happen?"

The Traveler knew all too well. He'd seen it three separate occasions: he was, after all, the one who walked between the voids of time.

"Everything ends. Ouroboros devours the world, as she did before."