The Stubborn Skill-Grinder In A Time Loop

“Dimensional splicer activated. Resistance not detected,” the world core of X2 said. “Travel to dimensional layer, designation: third hell, now available.”

“Remember, you’ll have a slight bit of travel before you reach Druhmiyan,” Zhou Shan said. “The Unity and the Hegemony are the only two factions in the galaxy who the devils have granted this access to, and even then, only into a select region of the third layer of the hells.”

“What’s there to be concerned about? We’ll just give anything threatening us a beating,” Orodan said.

“Well… I suppose travellers at your level of power need not worry. Still, the outskirts of the third hell where you’re venturing are full of wild demons and dangerous habitats. No other place within our galaxy is quite so volatile and full of danger during travel,” Zhou Shan explained.

Indeed, the High Sovereign gave a fair warning. Orodan had done some reading about the hells prior. Even before this long loop of his, the hells were known in the myths and legends of Alastaia. Many centuries ago, a large undertaking had taken place, and the seventh layer of hell was scoured and purged by the Conclave. It did this by using a device to open thousands upon thousands of dimensional portals into that layer, with each of these layers leading to an independent world.

One of the worlds which had gotten caught up and inadvertently assisted the Conclave as a result, was his home world of Alastaia.

And the accounts of what the Alastaians had encountered were warning enough, and this was merely in the seventh layer of hell. To venture into the third layer where some travel was involved before reaching the neutral city of Druhmiyan? It wasn’t a safe trip by any means.

For the average traveller at least.

Orodan, Zaessythra and W78 were far from average.

“Splicer operation begins once specific frequency is inputted. Device targets dimensional layer based upon inputted data,” the command nexus, world core of X2 said.

“An intricate device. The hells trusted you with the coordinates, but how does the device work internally?” Orodan asked.

“Information: runic cipher.”

“Just like the dwarven runes then… interesting,” Orodan muttered. More and more he was considering the idea of studying these runes. Of course, it would be a long journey, and he had yet to fully understand the basic Enchanting skill, which he felt was a pre-requisite in the matter.

“You can gawk at runes upon your return,” Zaessythra said. “For now, the hells await.”

Without any further ado, the three of them stepped forward and into the shimmering yet stable passage created by the dimensional splicer. The hells were an entirely separate dimension, and consequently, one needed to utilize dimensional travel to get to and from them. Spatial travel methods only worked within the same dimension one was in; attempts to use spatiomancy from one dimension to another ended in failure, although Orodan had yet to truly try and force the issue.

Unlike his trip to Narictus where they’d also used dimensional travel, this one wasn’t quite so bad in terms of the wobbling and stepping into multiple different dimensions before finally arriving. Rather, they stepped forward, and in a singular motion they arrived at their destination.

The first thing Orodan saw were flames. Lots and lots of flame.

The large chamber they’d stepped out of the dimensional passage and into had braziers of hellfire lining the walls and chandeliers dangling from the ceiling. From his battle against Devil King Saathmaraz, he knew that these maroon flames were hellfire, and they were normally supposed to be absorptive of light, incapable of giving off any luminosity of their own as the shadows cast by them were unnaturally dark. R̃₳ΝỖʙƐＳ

“Didn’t know hellfire could illuminate a room,” Orodan said.

“Only at our command, human. Intruders arriving here will have a less than pleasant time. Have you perhaps taken a wrong turn?”

The voice was deep and guttural, inhuman. Rather similar to the other Devil Kings he had met before. And it belonged to a hulking Arch-Devil with multiple horns protruding from their head. He wasn’t sure if their species had genders, but this one looked to have a more feminine figure than the two other Devil Kings he’d encountered to date. Not that it meant this Arch-Devil was any less physically imposing as a result. If anything, it looked bigger and mightier than any other Arch-Devil or demon he’d met before.

“No. We’re definitely in the right place,” Orodan said. “We’re headed for the neutral city of Druhmiyan, to meet with the council of the hells.”

“Ah, the diplomatic party I was told to expect. Only three of you? A half-dragon, the taskmaster and the time looper himself,” the Arch-Devil remarked. “I am Lavilaraaz, Keeper of the Bargain Gate. Wild beasts, independent tribes of demons and the occasional sweeping raid by illegal cults; I hope you came prepared, for the journey to Druhmiyan may prove a bit… perilous.”

“I’m hoping it is, a bit of battle would liven up our travels!”

“We’re here on a task Orodan…”

“Analysis: odds of mission success swiftly deteriorating.”

Orodan could only grumble at his companions’ complaints. What was the issue with enjoying a good fight? Sure, they were on a mission, but that didn’t mean enjoying the sights and fights along the way was prohibited. How often did he get the chance to traverse such a hostile environment and find strong foes to fight?

The Arch-Devil Gatekeeper laughed.

“I see what they said about you isn’t inaccurate now, is it? Perhaps those quibbling idiots in Druhmiyan could use a good blooding.”

#

After a wonderful journey through exotic climates which involved much interaction with the local flora and fauna, their party finally arrived. Past forests of soul-devouring trees, beyond deserts of flesh-shredding sand and farther than the canyons of demonic rock where gigantic vortexes of hellfire swirled. After all that, lay the city of Druhmiyan.

There was distance to cover yet. And normally a city wouldn’t be visible from so far away. Except for the minor detail that Druhmiyan was high in the sky, floating in the air, held aloft by a gigantic crystal propelling hellfire downwards, scorching the ground beneath it.

“At last, we’re here,” Orodan said.

“Don’t you dare speak as though you haven’t been the sole reason we’re a day later than planned,” Zaessythra said. “You’re lucky I accounted for your stupid proclivities and we began a day earlier.”

“We’re not even that late!” Orodan protested.

“Information: predicted travel time - twelve hours. Actual travel time - thirty-six hours,” W78 called out. That traitor…

“Alright, so I may have fought a few more creatures and people than intended,” Orodan admitted. “Is there anything wrong with enjoying the sights and getting to know the locals?”

“You wandered off and slaughtered three entire tribes of hell wolves,” Zaessythra said.

“What was I supposed to do? They attacked me and refused to retreat,” Orodan defended.

“You then killed almost a dozen demonic sandworms...”

“Which again, was a case of self-defense,” Orodan said. “Not my fault they lack a sense of self-preservation.”

“…and proceeded to take an hour harvesting meat, scales and blood from the corpses.”

“Which netted me the Butchering and Skinning skills! Plus, they look like they’d make for a tasty meal…” Orodan trailed off.

“Those things look disgusting, nobody’s going to eat those,” she rebuked.

Orodan dismissed her ignorant comments. What would she know about exotic cuisines and fine dining?

“That’s your subjective view and not representative of the truth.”

“Your horrid palate aside, let’s not forget the crowning achievement of our trek,” Zaessythra added, in a grandiose and sarcastic manner. “How you decided to track the cultists who tried attacking us back to their base, and then proceeded to butcher them all once you found out they were all complicit in ritual torture and sacrifice.”

“I don’t see the issue with that. They ritually slaughter people, and then someone like me comes by and executes them,” Orodan said. “Don’t tell me you disagree with that?”

“Who cares if some stupid cultists died at your hands? They deserved it, but that’s not the point,” she said. “We’re a full day late and even if I accounted for it, the planned meeting with the council starts in four hours. And what really irks me… is that you could’ve just used a damned Spatial Fold to cut the journey short. I was fine with you exploring, I humored it because why not? But you could at least try to respect the time frame we’re on.”

“Isn’t spatiomancy supposed to be incredibly difficult if not outright impossible due to the shifting spatial currents?” Orodan asked.

“Yes, for anyone else. Lest you forget, you’re the walking, talking impossibility that is Orodan Wainwright,” Zaessythra flippantly countered. “Any more dumb excuses?”

Orodan shook his head.

“You’re right. I won’t make excuses… I’m the reason we’re late and I can only apologize,” Orodan said. “Was the trek harsh on you?”

“Most things here are beyond just unsightly, they’re an eyesore. Long have I heard about the hells, but to actually see it with my own eyes is an experience I won’t forget,” Zaessythra said. “But, I’m no whining nag. It’s not the journey which annoys me…”

“What is it then?”

“The fact that the mighty Orodan Wainwright rushed ahead and stole almost every kill,” she said while glaring at him. “Did you not think my sword was thirsty for some blood as well?”

“Well damn… I suppose I did get rather carried away, didn’t I?”

She rolled her eyes.

“This has been a nice little outing which I can admit to enjoying,” she said. “But we’re not here to play around. Soon, something horrible will come for you. Can you really afford to be gallivanting around like this? You forget sometimes, Orodan, that the rest of us are burdened by very natural things like concern for the future.”

Orodan hadn’t even considered that Zaessythra might be under a lot of duress at the thought of the oncoming foe.

He had been stupid.

“You’re right… I shouldn’t have made light of your time and commitment in coming with me,” he said. “I can only take responsibility for my idiocy and try to make things right.”

“Idiot, just get a move on… and don’t die at the end of all this…” she muttered quietly.

Orodan didn’t reply, instead he simply looked forward and continued walking the short remaining distance.

Druhmiyan was a city of Arch-Devils. Floating in the sky, due to the enormous propulsion of maroon hellfire coming out the bottom of the giant red crystal the city was mounted atop of. Orodan thought the city would fly up and away into the void if not for the two massive chains keeping it connected to the ground.

The hells weren’t a part of the material plane. Still under the influence of the System, but not reachable through conventional travel. Beyond the skies above, lay the ‘void’ which had a seemingly endless number of floating landmasses and captured worlds that the Devil Kings had conquered and absorbed into the hells. The floating gigantic landmasses held ecologies and occasional bits of hellish civilization of their own. Similarly, Druhmiyan itself was chained to one of these floating landmasses.

“They say that this is the real seat of power within the hells,” Zaessythra said. “The first layer and the Citadel of Sin are more of a military stronghold, while this is where all the politicking occurs. Schemes are carried out, souls sold… and deals made with the devils.”

“In other words, a den of backstabbing worms who’ll enjoy speaking in circles?” Orodan asked. “I’m disliking the thought already.”

“Expand your horizons a little. Life isn’t just about beating your enemies over the head and standing above their broken corpses, Orodan,” she rebuked. “There is more depth to politics, negotiating and striking deals than you would think.”

“Perhaps. Yet at the end of the day, all deals and bargains are made under the threat of violence and power. Whether explicit or implied,” Orodan countered. “These devils can only make deals because they have strength which must be respected. And those seeking the security in such deals only do so because they lack direct strength.”

“It isn’t that simple. Alliances based on mutual aid and the shoring up of one anothers’ weaknesses exist,” Zaessythra said. “A faction known for their craftsmanship and powerful economy isn’t weak for allying with a militarily powerful one.”

“And yet, if both of these factions had enough power, such an alliance wouldn’t strictly be necessary,” Orodan said. “ My words might seem crude, and in a sense they are, yet there’s some truth in what I say. Economics, military might, diplomacy, there are multiple avenues of strength, yet in the end it’s what everything boils down to.”

“Your philosophy is heavily colored by your uniquely mad drive for battle, alongside your rough upbringing,” Zaessythra said. “Still, there’s a kernel of truth in what you say. Even then, Druhmiyan isn’t all politicking and subterfuge though. The laws of this city allow for trials by combat and honor duels. Something a good portion of the population are reported to engage in. I’m certain you’ll enjoy that aspect of it.”

“Good, I can’t wait!”

“Do try to rein yourself in a bit though. We’re here to meet with the Council of the Devil Kings and introduce ourselves as well as try and explore your almost amicable relationship with Devil King Saathmaraz,” Zaessythra said. “We’ll need to not only appear strong, but also mitigate the fact that we’re coming to the hells to ask them to remain neutral in the first place. Wantonly going around causing a ruckus will only make them think we’re desperate and making a display of rattling our sabers.”

“But wouldn’t that be the ideal scenario?” Orodan asked. “What better way to project strength than by doing exactly that? It would show that we’re not concerned about the consequences.”

“Not in actuality.”

“Indeed, in actuality. Do you think I surround myself with allies because I need them Zaessythra?” Orodan asked, suddenly serious. “This entire debacle is far beyond my comfort zone. I’m used to fighting on my lonesome. Right from the beginning, my battles against House Argon in Ogdenborough were on my own. I fought alone, and I died alone. These long loops are something I detest. The people, the friendships I’ve forged… do you think I enjoy the thought of having to lose it all, over and over? Worst of all, watching as many of them die on my behalf? I much prefer to be alone. Getting used to the company and then losing it all is a harsh burden to bear.”

“And that justifies you fighting alone? When the Reject arrives, if the Prophet decides to exact vengeance, will you stand alone against it all?” she asked.

“You know me by now… what do you think my answer is?”

“…yes. Of course, you’ll go ahead and march to your death alone…” she muttered. “You’re an idiot, and I won’t allow it.”

“You have no say on how I confront my own battles,” Orodan argued.

“Like you decided to make enemies of the Hegemony on my behalf? Orodan Wainwright, the hypocrite,” Zaessythra mocked. “Do as I say, not as I do. Is that how you carry yourself?”

“A false equivalence! I would never restrict you, I’ve said as much,” Orodan said pointedly. “But how I choose to embrace my potential end is my choice and mine alone. Weapon in hand, foe in front… and the smile of satisfaction at a glorious battle on my lips. That’s all I want. It’s all I’ve ever wanted, and then the time loops came for me.”

“You really are mad, Orodan Wainwright… how the master of these time loops has managed to anoint a suicidal buffoon is a mystery,” she said. “And I’m not arguing to have you stay your course, Orodan, although System knows I’d prefer it.”

“Then what are you trying to say?”

“I’m saying… that I intend to join you.”

“You-”

“Information: destination - Druhmiyan, within range. Multiple signatures approaching,” W78 said, and Orodan turned to him with a glare for the interruption, hot was his temper. “Analysis: subject emotional state heightened. Hypothesis: unit at risk of imminent aerial travel.”

No.

W78 had been nothing but a good friend to him. To ever lose his cool on his metallic friend would be a despicable act.

It took some effort, but Orodan forced his temper down. It burned hotter because he knew that Zaessythra was right. He wasn’t a hypocrite, and it went against his principles to deny anyone their agency in choosing when and where to fight. He was self-aware enough to see this and recognize his own flawed reasoning.

Yet, his past experiences in having others die on his behalf remained fresh in his mind. Adeltaj, Vespidia and Zaessythra herself. He was tired of people dying for him. The matter was still unresolved… but it would have to wait, as the Arch-Devil commanded squad that was flying down from the floating city to welcome them took precedence.

The area directly under Druhmiyan was a glassed crater which would doubtlessly be mined for precious volcanic rock and fought over by various local factions when the city moved on to another location. It was practically lifeless, for not even the hardier demons and Arch-Devils could survive the powerful hellfire propelling the city upwards and leeping it airborne.

It was devoid of life save one kind… hellfire elementals.

Orodan had seen a spirit mage once upon a time on Alastaia; Elidibus Astarti, during the Inter-Academy Tournament on Alastaia. And he’d encountered a few of them during the various battles he’d been in since. They weren’t the mightiest of mages, and the ones worth any salt in battle relied first on their own power and then used the summoned spirits as a supplement.

But where did the summoned spirits and elementals come from? From dimensions and astral planes, one of the largest ones being the hells. Elementals of various flavors were common in the fifth and sixth layers of the hells, but even among them, hellfire elementals were exceedingly rare.

Regular fire elementals would almost always be absorbed into the hellfire and lose themselves entirely. A select few however… adapted and overcame the hellish flames, becoming hellfire elementals. Groups of them flitted about the stream of maroon flames keeping Druhmiyan aloft. And they were a matter of some interest to the demonic city’s inhabitants as young demons were, under the supervision of elder handlers, attempting to cajole the elemental beings into leaving the stream and potentially becoming a familiar for them. Still, the occasional hellfire elemental would get rowdy and need a beating, which was why a heavy guard presence commanded by an Arch-Devil was required.

It was this Arch-Devil who’d diverted a good portion of the hellish guard and was now approaching Orodan. It looked rather angry.

“I’m no expert on Arch-Devil facial expressions, but given how angered the commander looks, it’s safe to say we aren’t getting a procession of flowers and trumpets,” Orodan joked.

“Given how close we are to the meeting we’re supposed to have, do you blame them?”

Not really. He couldn’t.

“A human, a half-dragon and one of our metallic friends from the Unity,” the Arch-Devil commander said. “Your presence was expected a day ago. Is there a reason for such… delay?”

“We make no excuses for our tardiness, unexpected events occurred during the course of our travels,” Zaessythra said.

“It’s my fault actually,” Orodan said as he walked forward. “I ended up getting into a few more fights than planned. wolves, worms and a cult. I was engaged in a bit more killing than strictly necessary.”

He could’ve used spatiomancy too, or at least attempted it. But the battles took up his notice and nobody bothered to remind him. He decided not to throw any comments towards Zaessythra and why she hadn’t spoken up earlier if they were indeed running so late. Orodan couldn’t confirm it, but he had a hunch that she enjoyed watching the butchery more than she let on.

The Arch-Devil looked to his right and gestured for another demon to speak.

“Lord Valmoraaz… the human speaks true,” spoke one of the nearby demons, a fat bull demon, the likes of which he’d fought within the Ascendent Sword Cluster. “Our scouts reported a number of hell wolves fleeing the area and attempting to migrate further west. Our script-bearers also picked up dimensional phase spiders entering and migrating into the stretch of desert on the route from the Bargain Gate.”

“Which shouldn’t be possible when those things are naught but tasty treats for the sandworms. Which means the worms lay dead,” the Arch-Devil Valmoraaz said. “And my ears within the cults tell me of the utter silence of the one nearest us to the south. Hmm… I see. They didn’t just send any human did they? The whispers from the material plane reach our ears, and the mortals often clamor about a man who goes about seeking battle like a crazed berserker. And that he is a time looper.”

“That would be me. Orodan Wainwright,” he introduced. “I’m in a-”

“A time loop, yes, yes,” Zaessythra interrupted. “With how often you say it, everyone and their grandmother knows. Anyhow, we come on business and have a meeting with your council.”

“We were forewarned of your arrival, half-dragon. You may enter,” Lord Valmoraaz spoke. “Go ahead, into the city. And take care not to attract any undue attention. Many denizens of Druhmiyan are often looking to prey upon newcomers with nefarious bargains… try not to sell your soul to a devil, hahahah!”

“With this stubborn fool, I have no concerns of any such deal ever going through,” Zaessythra said. “Or any deal occurring for that matter…”

She muttered the last part quietly but Orodan overheard her. Melodramatic in his opinion.

Still, they walked forward as the group of demons guarding the outskirts and flame pillar of Druhmiyan made way for them. The two gigantic chains which tethered the city to the ground and its current location were also the points through which people would enter. The chains were embedded deep into the ground, and a crew of gigantic hulking ogres stood ready to either insert the chains or pull them out when the city was ready to depart. Next to them, a teleporter was set up, and foot traffic could be seen coming and going under the vicious and scrutinizing gaze of demon guards.

“Before you go, time looper. Just be aware that many in this city harbor feelings of unease towards you,” Lord Valmoraaz said. “And for some, it’s a feeling of outright hostility. Especially for those affiliated or friendly with Devil King Gutriyaz’s faction. Word of your… purification abilities, has spread.”

“I have no intention of purifying anyone of their core being. The Conclave and I share a mutual foe in the Hegemony, that’s the extent of our relationship,” Orodan said. “Why tell me all this?”

“I tell you this because my faction leader, Devil King Saathmaraz, is quite interested in pursuing amicable relations with you,” Lord Valmoraaz answered. “Although, it’s good to know you harbor no particular prejudices against us. In line with what we’ve heard of your argument against the Captain-General of those vile zealots.”

Orodan hummed in assent, and wondered how good the spy network of these devils was for them to have knowledge of a meeting deep within the Unity’s world core.

“There are competing factions within Druhmiyan then?” Orodan asked.

“Indeed. Any Devil King of note maintains holdings, businesses and influence within this city,” the Arch-Devil said. “The Citadel of Sin is where the power of our military lies and the Overking maintains his personal forces. But this city is where all devils gather. Be warned, time looper, my liege is powerful, but not the mightiest of the Devil Kings. Devil King Gutriyaz’s faction is of note, but nothing concerning in the grand game. His mentor, the Script-King Athando-Elraaz is a particularly powerful player and the driving force behind Gutriyaz himself. And if rumors are to be believed… the Overking has his eyes set upon your approach as well.”

“Fantastic… all these powerful people, lining up for a good fig-”

“What he means to say,” Zaessythra interrupted. “Is that we will be treading diplomatically. Thank you Lord Valmoraaz.”

Orodan rolled his eyes at her diplomacy, but supposed he should allow her to take the lead most of the time.

“A soul-sworn loyal to my liege will be waiting up on the city to guide you,” Lord Valmoraaz said. “Take caution not to venture too far. The agents of rival Devil Kings are always seeking an opportunity to get one over us. Devil King Saathmaraz’s deal with you has not gone unnoticed. Some of the factions dislike you, but they’re among the minority of your potential enemies. Those wanting to take my liege down a notch are the more numerous group by far.”

Orodan could only smile.

That sounded positively fun.

#

Stepping through the teleporter wasn’t anything special. Orodan had walked through many before, and the spatiomancy and craftsmanship was nothing noteworthy.

It was after stepping through that the wonders began.

“Information: multiple scan attempts detected. All unknown scan attempts blocked,” W78 said.

Of course they would try to scan them.

The area he, Zaessythra and W78 had stepped onto was a platform on the lowest part of the city. Ahead of them, gigantic walls and a massive gate. Atop these walls were crenellations and battlements staffed with hundreds of defenders. Besieging Druhmiyan by stepping through their teleporters, was a fool’s endeavor. The teleporter they’d come through wasn’t the guard checkpoint, ahead of them was the real one. And it looked prepared to lay an absolute barrage of lethal fire upon any unauthorized arrivals.

The foot traffic going to and from the gates toward the chain teleporters leading to the ground was sparse. Most civilians and non-combatants within Druhmiyan weren’t capable of nor expected to brave the harsh environment and monsters on the ground of the landmasses of the third layer of hell. Among those going to and from though, were demons, Arch-Devils… and humans, elves, dwarves, vampires and even a half-dragon.

The walls were made of a black stone which looked very reinforced. And built in a manner suspiciously similar to dwarven craft.

“They say that the dwarves are the finest builders in the universe,” Orodan remarked. “That wall would beg to differ.”

“That’s because the dwarves did build these walls. The devils are nothing if not obscenely wealthy, and flashing some riches in front of the dwarves’ noses was enough to have the bearded sops making deals with devils,” Zaessythra said. Perhaps she was a bit biased against the mountain-dwelling race, given how they aided her enemies in destroying her world. “Demonkind isn’t bad at building, but their true specialties lay in other things.”

Like the possession and soul-binding Devil King Saathmaraz was capable of. Or the hellfire he’d encountered when facing Devil King Gutriyaz. And another thing he was seeing now… script-bearers.

“An interesting form of body enchantment,” Orodan remarked.

“More an exercise in self-mutilation in my opinion, but a madman like you may see it differently,” she replied.

The approaching gate captain wasn’t a demon, but a rather gaunt human.

The stereotype of the hells being full of demons and the wicked was a commonly held belief upon Alastaia, yet the truth was that devil society simply wouldn’t function without civility and healthy social bonds. The Arch-Devils as a race would have fallen long ago if they were too prejudiced to accept humans and other races into their fold. The lure of riches and the unique skills of the hells meant that many beings from other races were all too happy to join hands.

Whether they joined on a contractual basis in exchange for something, or simply immigrated permanently, the hells had a sizeable non-demonic population. Even worlds which were conquered and absorbed into the hells had their populations peacefully and amicably assimilated in the overwhelming majority of cases.

The woman didn’t appear tortured, or unhappy, and a scan with Vision of Purity revealed no shackles or insidious influences upon her soul. What stood out rather starkly though, was the thousands of small scars, wounds and cuts upon her skin. Some of them were old and scarred, some scabbed over, and some actively bleeding. They all looked self-inflicted.

The important fact being that each and every wound was in the shape of a rune or sigil.

“The script looks familiar, yet different when compared against dwarven runes,” Orodan said. “And the energy flowing to and from the bleeding wounds is higher than those of the scarred ones. Intriguing… I wonder if blood magic is also at work.”

He also mentally cross-compared it with Alastaian enchantment script, which seemed inferior in comparison. And then, with the glyphs and sigils of the System, and very vaguely he felt there might be a similarity, but the System’s language seemed a far more evolved form of whatever these script-bearers were attempting. There were levels to this, and it seemed that not all magical script languages were equal.

Reflections on the script aside, the woman who bore it upon her skin, the script-bearer, didn’t appear bothered by the bleeding. It wasn’t a fatal rate of bleeding by any means and Orodan felt even the lower levels of Pain Resistance would allow for the disregard of discomfort. And even the Initiate-level in some form of self-healing would allow for sustainability.

The approaching gate-captain overheard his questions, and decided to answer them herself.

“It is. The sacred script of our forebears, though an honor to bear upon my skin, still requires a source of energy to empower it,” the gate-captain said. “Some do this through mana, others through soul energy. And others still through a more personal source of power…”

“Blood magic, which draws from your own vitality,” Orodan finished. “Or that of others.”

“I sense a great deal of vitality within you as well, time looper. Perhaps you might consider dabbling in the arts yourself?” she asked.

“Too nefarious for my liking. I have no interest in butchering innocents to use their blood,” Orodan said.

“It need not be so sinister. Many blood magicians among us are staunch warriors with a deep sense of honor,” she clarified. “The only blood they use, their own. And often to devastating effect in empowering their own blows.”

Something to consider, for another loop at least. While Orodan didn’t see himself throwing streams of blood against an opponent, the idea of drawing power from his own to strengthen himself didn’t seem like the worst concept. An exceedingly dangerous notion, which was why the overwhelming majority of blood mages used the blood of others; their own only being an option as a last resort. But when one had the endless energy and ability to recover vitality like Orodan did, it was another avenue of power.

“I’ll think on it. For now, we have business within Druhmiyan,” Orodan said. “Lord Valmoraaz on the ground has allowed us entry.”

“And Lord Valmoraaz did not say your metallic companion from the Unity would be hindering our scanning attempts,” the gate-captain challenged. “All entrants to Druhmiyan must undergo a scan. This city is neutral and open to select factions from our universe, but not without safeguards.”

“Information: scanning targets identified as mind and soul. Analysis: likelihood of deception - high.”

The gate-captain held a grimace on her face, but seemed unwilling to back down.

“I know not of what you speak. Refusing to submit to scans will result in your eviction from the city,” she said.

In the distance, Orodan could see a slender and tree-like being fast approaching their position from behind the gate-captain. Perhaps this was the guide Lord Valmoraaz had mentioned?

In any case, he was tired of games.

“Information: risk of confidential data breach - high. Risk of further tampering - high. Scan permission - denied,” W78 ominously said . “Solution: cessation of diplomatic contact.”

Zaessythra seemed angered as well.

“Surely you do not mean to force us to bare ourselves to a scan? There’s simply no way w-”

“I challenge you to a duel for the right to scan me.”

Silence met his proclamation, and he sensed a small trickle of dirty mana leave a ring on the gate-captain’s finger as her face held a look of concern.

The only noise he heard… was the loud and drawn out sigh of resignation from Zaessythra.

“What manner of farce is this? You cannot simply challenge us to a duel for the right to do our duties,” the gaunt script-bearer said.

“I can. I’ve been reading up on the laws of Druhmiyan. According to the Proclamations of the First, when honor is challenged or grievances are aired, either party may demand an honor duel or a trial by combat,” Orodan stated.

“This is not a matter of honor or a grievance! We are simply doing our duty! Look, if it means so much to you, we can simply waive the matter and allow you entry,” the gate-captain said, backing down. “I see rumors of your brash nature were not exaggerated. I am unwilling to engage you lest we risk a city-wide Blooding. My superiors wil-”

“No. I demand a duel here and now,” Orodan declared, caring not one whit about how the approaching demons and humans stiffened immediately. “Not a matter of honor, or a grievance? You speak incorrectly on both counts. Your hidden motives in attempting to scan us are plain to see, thus I declare your honor worthless. And for wasting my time with such pointless drivel, you’ve inflicted a grievance. Now draw your weapon and fight me, or receive a beating where you stand.”

The script-bearer was startled speechless by Orodan’s proclamation. The other demons were silent too.

“This is… I must summon my superior. This is a matter of Devil King Egrimaaz’s honor, and his loyal captains will want to fight you in his stead,” the gate-captain said. “As for myself, I’m woefully unprepared to face you, time looper. I was simply following the orders of my liege.”

“So what? Your words and actions are duplicitous, without a beating you’ll not learn to amend your ways,” Orodan said.

“Y-you would kill me?”

The woman was but a Grandmaster. He would feel no threat with even a thousand of her arrayed against him.

In response, Orodan simply raised his right hand into the air, looking down upon the smaller woman with an intimidating gaze. His eyes crackled with power, and the hand came down like the blade of an executioner…

…to deliver an open-palm slap to the back of her head. The script-bearer yelped in surprise more than pain, and looked embarrassed to have been cuffed on the back of the head so publicly like a naughty child being disciplined.

“Let the sting of that blow remain fresh in your memory as you call your betters. And let the one who gave you such an order know that I consider them a spineless cretin who dares not approach to do the deed themselves,” Orodan declared. “Now then, I have pressing business within Druhmiyan. Does anyone else wish to force the matter of a scan?”

The demons and other devil-allied beings upon the walls and among the approaching party were silent. Save one; the tree-like being with bark-like skin who had been fast approaching earlier.

“Time looper… my liege has been expecting you, please, let us make haste for the council chambers immediately!” the plant-like being spoke. It was bipedal, but its skin was covered in bark, like a tree. “The agents of the other Devil Kings will hear about this incident very soon, and we must make haste to avoid-”

“Avoid? Why would I want to avoid anything? Them hearing about it is exactly what I want,” Orodan said. “Instead of me going to the diplomacy, it’s better to allow the diplomacy to come to me.”

Honestly. When he’d learned that there were multiple factions and much politicking involved, Orodan had dreaded the thought of such boring work. But with the unique laws in place within Druhmiyan, who needed to engage in politics? Rather than seeking out allied factions, why not have all of his enemies come to him? Much easier to deal with them that way.

“But that will… that will cause a Blooding!” the guide exclaimed. “We haven’t had one for a million years!”

The Blooding. A unique phenomenon within Druhmiyan when either an honor duel or a trial by combat escalated into an unstoppable chain of such challenges and duels that a large number of powerful people died and the ensuing power vacuum was ferociously fought over.

Usually, honor duels were carefully chosen and most people were smart and picked their battles. Killing someone whose close friend or family would then challenge you to a duel wasn’t typically done, and one had to bear the repercussions for winning in mind. However, when a particularly powerful person came along, and people saw fit to continually challenge them… a Blooding could occur and leave much to be gained in the aftermath.

After all, the last Blooding had resulted in the crowning of the current Overking of the hells.

And in Orodan’s opinion…

“How about we have another one?”

#

“Little wonder that Arch-Devil we met seemed annoyed. There was no hiding the anger on his face,” Orodan said.

“Devil King Saathmaraz had to expend a generous portion of his treasury and pull a few favors to ensure Lord Valmoraaz was stationed by the crystalfire stream upon your arrival,” the guide said. “Having your travel delayed by an entire day was not good news, and required an additional few favors to the watch-commander’s faction in recompense for keeping our loyal Arch-Devil there.”

Which had Orodan feeling slightly bad for his gallivanting about the environs, but he wasn’t about to reverse time to undo the blunder.

“In any case, I’m surprised you aren’t raising more of a protest about this, Zaessythra,” Orodan said. “Fallen into my way of thinking, have you?”

“Don’t assume such things. That scarred lackey who tried forcing a scan upon us still has me in a bad mood, that’s all,” Zaessythra said. “I still think this is entirely stupid… but there’s… potential, in this entrance of ours.”

Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

The compliment came out most reluctantly, but that was a start.

“Might I again reiterate how inadvisable this course of action is?” the guide said. “Word of you and your deeds has spread far and wide, and I have no doubt that you might be able to accomplish what you’re aiming for, but a Blooding will have repercussions lasting milennia for the hells and shape the political landscape for a long time. There are also some mighty peak-Transcendents and Gods among your potential challengers.”

“All the better I say,” Orodan dismissed.

“Your plans are usually foolish, but in this case, we’ve overawed the populace and any spectators into spreading word for us,” Zaessythra said. “In a sense, simply walking through the city after such a show of disrespect is a message. We have four hours before our meeting, and enjoying the sights at a leisurely pace lets them know where we are and dares them to act.”

She wasn’t wrong. Passersby, demons and otherwise, were giving them a wide berth and many were pointing and whispering at them particularly at him. If the messengers who’d doubtlessly run off to report his show of disrespect couldn’t do it… then these whispering civilians certainly would.

His upbringing on Alastaia had taught him that the hells were cruel, fiery and full of murderous demons and the wicked. Yet, the existence of Druhmiyan shattered the final vestiges of that stereotype within his mind.

Sure, the streets were paved of sinister-looking dark rock, and nefarious towers and braziers of hellfire lined the roads at key intersections, but that was the extent of it. The hells, particularly most of the other floating cities and conquered worlds, weren’t a bad place to live from what he’d read. Conquered worlds had their populations peacefully and amicably assimilated the overwhelming majority of the time, and life went on and even prospered under the rule of the Devil Kings. Druhmiyan was no exception.

Traffic consisted of demons and other races, on-foot, or via carriage drawn by lumbering beasts known as shadow oxen which had an eerie aura of darkness but seemed friendly enough. Additionally, demons and humans often co-mingled, to the point that he even saw friends and lovers walking around together across species lines. Of course, the oddity was that there were no children in sight.

“No families in this part of town?” Orodan asked.

“Children are rare in this city, my lord. The environment not conducive for the fostering of the ‘family’ you humans prize,” the guide answered. “Druhmiyan is a center of political importance, and the laws permitting honor duels mean there’s often violence upon the streets. In comparison, other floating cities are safer, and conquered worlds under the rule of a Devil King are the ideal place for children to be raised. Almost all of Druhmiyan’s populace are some manner of specialist or combatant, even the civilians. They work here and their families live elsewhere.”

If anyone told the old Orodan - before the time loops - that a world conquered and absorbed into the hells was the best place to raise a child, he’d have laughed at them. Yet, once one cut through all the nonsensical literature that the Conclave put out as propaganda, the hells honestly seemed a decent place.

Better place to grow up than Ogdenborough anyways.

They continued down the roads of Druhmiyan, walking at a leisurely pace and taking in the sights until the foot traffic itself changed in composition. The average person walking by now looked wealthier, their clothes more opulent. A human wearing an ostentatiously glittering ensemble of jewelry walked by, followed by two bull demon guards wearing gleaming armor. The guards and man both immediately gave Orodan a wide berth, and he was certain that they’d sent word to someone given the faint pulse of mana he felt leave a necklace.

That aside, the streets now sported laborers - specialized ones since nobody in Druhmiyan was just a common worker - and craftspeople. It was clearly some kind of production district, likely where the goods were made.

“My lord… that was one of the Scribe-King’s storekeepers,” the guide said. And Orodan had to wonder how well-compensated the storekeepers were if they dressed so gaudy and had guards accompanying them. “He’ll have undoubtedly sent word to the Scribe-King himself!”

“Looking forward to it,” Orodan said, ignoring the guide’s stammers. “Is this where all the production occurs? I don’t see many storefronts here.”

Once the bark-skinned tree-man had recovered, he clarified further.

“Yes, my lord. These workshops are crewed by specialist crafters who turn many of the precious materials acquired into finished goods of tremendous value. The workshops would never sell the finished good directly to anyone and are required to turn their product over to the owners. The workshops are typically owned by wealthy Devil Kings and the skilled crafters, in their employ.”

Some of the workshops had open displays, allowing passersby to look into them, and Orodan saw the scene of an Arch-Devil blacksmith working alongside hellfire elementals to make weapons of great power. Assistants to the leading blacksmith worked tirelessly alongside their master, and the most junior of the blacksmiths did the hard labor of making the ingots.

It was impressive. And he supposed that the sight of a workshop running was also a subtle display of the owner’s power. These buildings contained tremendous wealth, and were appropriately guarded of course. He sensed a mid-Transcendent level individual deeper inside the shops, not a crafter, but a combatant.

And it was coming for him.

It was at least fifteen feet tall, and the powerful muscles upon its frame practically rippled as it walked out of the workshop opening and approached.

“So this is the human who dares to disrespect Devil King Egrimaaz?” the Arch-Devil asked. “The others clamor to face you, but I, Garvoroz, Captain of the Second Forge, shall slay you for your insults. Duel me here and now, and face your death with courage.”

“Excellent, I’ll let you strike the first blow,” Orodan said. “You look strong, this is just what I need.”

“Your time looping nature does not elude me. Yet, I have also heard of your stubborn nature and dogged sense of honor,” the Arch-Devil said. “Is this the first time we’ve met?”

“Indeed, it is,” Orodan answered.

“Good. Then here and now, within this loop, I challenge you to a duel for the honor of my liege,” the Arch-Devil said. “No repeats. If you lose here, I expect you to honor your loss and leave Druhmiyan for good, in all of your loops moving forward!”

“I accept! Hit me already and let us dispense with the talking and commence with the fighting,” Orodan challenged.

“Activate the mirror cage!” a nearby demon guard shouted as something was deployed just moments before Garvoroz’s fist connected with Orodan’s face.

[Dimensionalism 28 → Dimensionalism 29]

The world shifted in a strange manner. They were still within Druhmiyan, yet nobody else was present. For all intents and purposes, they’d been dragged into a mirror of where they previously were, without the inhabitants however.

Just in time for a giant fist to impact his face with a most brutal crack.

The buildings were heavily reinforced in Druhmiyan, yet the attack sent him through a dozen of them, and the shockwave of the strike blew apart a few more. Outside of the city, and in an environment where nothing had enhanced durability, that strike was likely to shatter half a moon.

[Iron Body 87 → Iron Body 88]

Orodan rose to his feet and had a smile on his face.

It was pure battle lust. Normally, Orodan would’ve defended, or perhaps even dodged. Yet the first strike of a battle between warriors was a special one, and this gigantic foe - who was the most physically imposing Arch-Devil he’d ever seen - stirred the desire to test his own physicality.

Still, it was lacking in raw killing power. Devil King Gutriyaz, who he’d fought so long ago, hit far harder, able to destroy the entirety of Alastaia’s moon in the attempt to kill Orodan.

“Not bad. My healing was almost too quick for me to notice, but you cracked my jaw for the briefest of instants,” Orodan said. “Since you insist on fighting bare-handed, so shall I.”

A Flash Strike brought him up to the Arch-Devil, and immediately, Orodan began grappling with it.

Orodan was nearing seven feet of height. This Arch-Devil was over twenty. The increased size meant that his opponent was in fact physically stronger than Orodan. And it was a comical scene, a man attempting to tussle with an Arch-Devil twice almost three times his size in a scramble of limbs.

Yet, there were benefits to such an arrangement.

[Physical Fitness 93 → Physical Fitness 94]

Orodan’s head was driven into the ground and he was thrown about like a ragdoll. Yet, the smile never left his face.

#

“T-the cage is breaking!”

“Too much raw energy within!”

“Took you long enough, Orodan.”

These were among the things he heard as the world shifted around them once again. Not due to anything intentional, but due to how the amount of power he was throwing around was causing the dimensional boundaries of the mirror dimension to crack.

Thankfully, it was Orodan’s final All-Strike which obliterated almost half the Arch-Devil’s body that did the trick. The brutalized body of Garvoroz was flung out onto the streets of Druhmiyan like a ragdoll as both the Arch-Devil and Orodan returned to the real world. Good thing that blow had ended it. Continuing the battle within the actual city would’ve been a slight logistical annoyance and required the accounting of nearby innocents.

“Y-you… you won…” the Arch-Devil weakly said as its body slowly reformed despite the certainly fatal wounds they would be on anyone without the self-healing and resilience of its species.

“It was an excellent battle. With how much magic and spellcraft I throw around nowadays, one might forget that I’m a warrior at heart,” Orodan said. “One more level in Physical Fitness, and two in Wrestling and Unarmed Combat. This has been fantastic.”

Indeed, fighting a mighty opponent that was far stronger had helped him acquire insights and push his physical limits. It was harder to find that nowadays when a large portion of his opponents were either wary of the threat he posed in close combat or were simply unwilling to allow him any opportunities to battle due to knowing he was a time looper.

“It took you two hours, and we have two more remaining before our meeting,” Zaessythra said.

“And nobody else has shown up since?” Orodan asked, more than a little curious. “If they were intent on challenging me, they would’ve come by now, no?”

“My lord,” the guide spoke up. “Lord Garvoroz here is Devil King Egrimaaz’s mightiest subordinate, mightier than his own liege in fact. I suspect the Devil King would be unwilling to challenge you now. Rather… a runner came by earlier bearing a message, saying that Devil King Egrimaaz wishes to meet you at the Parlor of Bargains.”

“The Parlor of Bargains?”

“The quintessential location for all contracts, negotiations and disputes within our city. It lies at the heart of the Markets of Opulence.”

“In other words,” Zaessythra said. “Your act of trundling about the city and causing trouble has made them look weak. In asking you to meet them there, they reassert a measure of control and will undoubtedly have many of their allies gathered to deal with you. Alongside an audience.”

“Come then, let’s be done with this stupidity,” Orodan said.

He cared not for those who required audiences and grand displays of power and audacity. Politics bored him, and he much preferred to beat his enemies over the head.

They continued down the roads and towards the markets. And once more there was a subtle shift in the foot traffic as they went. Objectively, the humans, demons and other races walking by, began looking more attractive. Some were dressed luxuriantly, others in a more provocative manner.

When he saw the first pair of elves waiting on the street corner, he had an inkling of what this district was about.

A particularly flamboyant bull demon walking down the road with an opulently dressed elven man and a gaudily dressed dwarven woman on either arm cemented it for him.

“We’re entering the Lanes of Lust now my lord. Whatever your persuasion, there’s certain to be someone willing to humor your desires,” the guide said.

Workers whose trade was of a more intimate nature could be seen on the road side. Additionally, there were some rough-looking thugs bearing arms and armor who were around to ensure the workers were paid and no clients tried anything funny. Plus, there were armored guards and script-bearers patrolling the streets at regular intervals.

Passing through the Lanes of Lust was a necessity if one was to enter the Markets of Opulence, at least, from this side of Druhmiyan.

A rather provocatively dressed demon leered at him. Ashen skin, horns protruding from her head, and yet a feminine figure.

“Oh my… since when are humans made so… sturdy? I wasn’t aware your sort could get so large? How about we get to know on another more intimately, young lord?”

“I’ll pass,” Orodan said. He could appreciate exotic cuisines and a good meal, but that aside, the baser pleasures simply didn’t interest him as much anymore. The love of battle called to him more than the thought of sharing a bed. And his unique circumstances meant he’d rather not get into any more entanglements. “I prefer the heat of battle to the warmth of the flesh.”

The demonic woman looked not at all offended and simply smiled. A professional then.

“Heh… why did I predict you would say exactly that?” Zaessythra said.

“Because it’s true? You know I enjoy a good fight,” Orodan said. “Besides, back home nobody in that trade does it happily as their first choice. Leaves a foul taste in the mouth when you think about it.”

“Not the case in Druhmiyan, my lord,” the guide said. “The Lanes of Lust are strictly monitored and governed. Courtesan health and safety are taken seriously, and you’ll find that many of those in the profession have their own methods of seeking strength. While I admit, those from human lands often look down on them, it’s not frowned upon within our society.”

“Look down on them? Far from it,” Orodan clarified. “I grew up seeing many of those pushed into that trade. Unlike in this city, it wasn’t a happy life back in Ogdenborough. But, there was still resilience in them, and many of them oft worked a second trade to make ends meet.”

He wasn’t ignorant to the more clandestine parts of society. He had seen the excessively powdered and alluringly dressed men and women who would enter the tavern under Mount Castarian. He would occasionally see a few take a stop at the mayor’s mansion too. If he saw the herbalist’s daughter or the stable-boy from Scarmorrow during regular hours, he would pretend not to recognize them. Mainly because they did the same.

People did what they had to in order to get by, and in places like Druhmiyan, in order to advance. A high level in such skills might even allow one to ensnare kings and queens.

Judgement was the farthest thing from his mind. If anything, that this city of demons took worker health seriously was something he could respect. After all, the whispers and criminal cases he’d read about in the bigger cities of the Republic back home, were best left unsaid.

They ignored the workers attempting to catch the eyes of passersby, until finally the Lanes of Lust ended and the building demarcating the two was a tavern of sorts. A lively place filled with demons and non-devils both.

“Craving battle? Desire endless riches? Want a large harem? Join Devil King Saathmaraz’s retinue today! Special sign-on bonuses and treasures included for Grandmasters and above!” a burly-looking bull demon recruiter cried out.

“Hate the Conclave? Want to do your part against their sanctimonious paladins? Wield weapons which can hold against their wicked light! Empowered by the crystalfire and forged by the hand of Talveroz the Black Hammer himself!”

There were criers for many other products, and what Orodan suspected was the sparks of a bar brawl about to erupt as a human began aggressively attempting to steal a bull demon’s woman. While the thought of engaging in a friendly brawl sounded fun, it just wasn’t for him any longer. Reinforced as it was, Orodan stood a good chance of destroying Druhmiyan outright if he truly cut loose. Plus, nobody within the tavern was up to the task of challenging him. As his power grew, the ability to enjoy the smaller things diminished.

With a sigh, he stepped past the den of drink and imminent fists to continue onwards. After all, past the tavern - which was a demarcating building of sorts - were the Markets of Opulence.

There were dozens of storefronts all marketing fine products. From enchanted arms and armaments, to powerful potions and exotic monsters to bond with. The marketfronts were nice, however what Orodan truly came for, was the Parlor of Bargains.

The gigantic building was the centerpiece of the Markets of Opulence, and it was where all manner of deals, negotiations and contracts occurred. The building was divided into two parts; the courts where people would take civil matters to the arbiter, and the bargain parlors.

The courts were where people brought their small time issues forward and both agreed to whatever judgement was made. These arbiters were all appointed by the Council of Druhmiyan, and were typically a judge for the city as their regular trade. The cases being judged were small time matters, typically involving petty nonsense, arguments over the wording of a deal, or attempts to weasel out of soul contracts. High value cases were also judged in the courts, but nothing of a nature too criminal; those were the domain of the courts within Druhmiyan’s Council-Fortress at the peak of the city.

The bargain parlor though, was where desperate people, shrewd merchants and predatory beings of power prowled. It was much like a marketplace, except what was being advertised were deals… and the price, people.

“My family has been denied our rightful due under the draconian rule of Devil King Egrimaaz! I offer the souls of myself and the entirety of my house for any other ruler to attempt a takeover!”

“I offer power beyond your reckoning. Rival Grandmasters in battle, and make Transcendents take notice with my rituals of empowerment. All for the simple price of a soul contract and some minor servitude…”

…for five milennia. At least, that was what the fine print at the very bottom of the parchment said. The Arch-Devil - intentionally no doubt - had tall stacks of coins placed in such a way that shadows were cast on that portion too. Nothing too egregious as that’d likely get it in trouble, but enough to make it appear less noticeable.

There were also a whole bunch of stipulations on who the person could and could not harm, which included the Arch-Devil providing the service and the entirety of its faction and allies. A devious but effective way of securing more manpower Orodan supposed.

The bargain parlors were every bit the nefarious looking environment that one would expect. It was where deals with the devils were made, how could it not be sinister? The singular arbiter and the squadron of guards at their side vigilantly overlooked the place however, and even the most shady of demons offering deals looked visibly wary of their wrath. Social skills and mind control were strictly barred under threat of death.

And for as much as Orodan had been taught otherwise on Alastaia, there was no slavery in sight within Druhmiyan. Supposedly, the practice had been entirely outlawed during the reign of the previous Overking and had remained so since then. The devils alone were easy prey for those wanting to invade the hells. Appealing to the other races and making the hells appear a good place to live was a far more effective strategy for resisting the constant encroachment of the Conclave and its allies.

Despite the somewhat villainous appearance, it really was just business. A certain level of cut-throat behavior was expected, but none of them were truly malicious.

There were a group of people that did have bad intentions though, at the very top of the stairs leading up to the arbiter’s station. The arbiter and its guards appeared wary and submissive towards them as well.

“Orodan Wainwright, you came… as expected. When you challenged everybody in sight and fought like a madman upon the moon of your backwater planet, I thought you the pinnacle of warlike beings, someone fit to eventually become a prime evil. For it to be a human was a surprise, but not an impediment. Yet to then bear witness to that sickening Celestial skill of yours? And to now hear you work alongside the Conclave? Sickening… you must be permanently dealt with at all costs.”

“The Conclave and I have a mutual enemy, that’s the extent of it. I have no interest in purifying any devils, and if you’ve heard otherwise, that’s a lie,” Orodan said. “When we fought upon the moon of Alastaia, I was far weaker then. You’ll find that I’ve grown since then, Devil King Gutriyaz. Fight me and let us settle the score here and now.”

Standing before him, at the top of the stairs was the very familiar Devil King that had come to recruit him upon the moon of Alastaia a while ago. Back then, he’d gone through death after death until finally growing strong enough to survive the devil’s full power. In hindsight, Orodan had partly brought it upon himself by purifying the True Vampire in front of the devil so blatantly. Still, he was eager for a rematch.

“You did not lie, Gutriyaz… he is as headstrong and thirsty for battle as you said. Human. You claim to be neutral and not on the Conclave’s side, yet your actions upon entering Druhmiyan leave no doubts as to your hostility,” a nearby Arch-Devil said. Not as sturdy-looking as Garvoroz who he’d beaten, and not possessed of as much power as Devil King Gutriyaz either. “You disrespected one of my script-bearers, and then defeated one of my loyal devils. Every step you take within this city is an insult to me. Death will be the only payment I accept.”

“Then draw your weapon and fight me, why waste time with this talk?” Orodan asked.

“You base cur! You lack all decorum and sense of tradition! The challenge to an honor duel is not something to be thrown about like alms for the beggars!” Devil King Egrimaaz angrily said. “We must prepare the audience, declare our grievances and keep ourselves in line that the spectators might be immersed in the very causes of our battle.”

“Sounds like pointless pomp and ceremony to me,” Orodan said. “When two warriors fight, all that matters is violence and the straight path from life to death.”

Devil King Egrimaaz was the one who’d initially ordered the scans upon Orodan and his party. Orodan had undoubtedly ruffled the Devil King’s feathers by walloping its loyal subordinates. Furthermore, the Devil King was in fact weaker than its strongest subordinate who Orodan had already bested. Still, given how angry it looked, there was a good chance the Devil King threw it all to the wind and fought Orodan here and now.

W78’s comments didn’t help either.

“Information: hostile element, power level - acceptable. Analysis: likelihood of positive combat outcome - certain.”

“Damned machine, do not presume such th-

“Hold, Egrimaaz. Or have you forgotten that he is the time looper whose actions have caused the Athranos Galaxy to stir restlessly with war?” Devil King Gutriyaz asked. “Orodan Wainwright. Back then, your time looper nature was not known to me, but it is now. How many times did you perish against me on that moon before you won? Every death in battle simply grants you more strength, does it not?”

“You’re right. I come back each time I die, and I grow stronger for it,” Orodan admitted. “You killed me many times, but I learned. In a sense, you were a teacher of mine.”

“Bitter irony then, that I partook in teaching a deadly foe so much. Your Fire Resistance must be quite high by now,” Devil King Gutriyaz said. “How many times did I destroy that barren moon in a bid to kill you without knowing that I was merely empowering an unkillable foe? Tch…”

“That ‘barren moon’ used to be my home world,” Zaessythra said. “Even if restoring it was easy enough, I don’t appreciate the fact that you so wantonly obliterated it.”

“And you have companions with you as well. A machine of the Unity, and a half-dragon. The numbers are a little lopsided in your favor, are they not?” Devil King Gutriyaz asked.

“I’m happy to face you both by myself, my companions have little to do with it,” Orodan declared.

“Perhaps. But I am not so short-sighted as to grant you a convenient path to strength, nor am I delusional in my own abilities relative to yours,” Devil King Gutriyaz said. “I have heard of you, time looper. Your victory over a peak-Transcendent True Vampire. Your feat of reversing time for an entire soul nexus and preventing the explosion of trillions of souls. Your strength has grown at an impossible rate since we last met, and I admit that you would be beyond me. However… my mentor is not.”

The only warning he got was a faint sense from his near-Apprentice Dimensionalism skill. Someone was directly behind him.

And they had a glowing pink shard in their hands.

The beam was mid-flight when it diverted and rushed into the shard held in Zaessythra’s outstretched hand.

That half-dragon… she hadn’t even told him that she was bringing that thing along!

“Hmmph… of course they would field a shard of their own,” said the… moon elf? “Orodan Wainwright, was it? I hear you detest bandying words, good. Let’s duel.”

The dimensional layer around him shifted, and while Orodan could have resisted, he chose not to as it was best to fight someplace else where he wouldn’t cause mass civilian casualties.

The scenery shifted to the ruins of an abandoned city, and the moon elf before him began glowing with power as the sigils and runes on every inch of his skin lit up.

“Nothing personal. Or rather, not with you… but that abominable power of yours,” the moon elf said.

The first thing to hit him was a wave of maroon hellfire which annihilated the entirety of the abandoned city and the gigantic planet-sized landmass it was upon.

[Fire Resistance 51 → Fire Resistance 53]

[Warrior’s Reciprocity 86 → Warrior’s Reciprocity 87]

He faced a decent amount of damage, but it was only surface level and he healed quickly enough. Still, that it could harm him signified the power of the assault.

In any case, his opponent looked to be worse-off, with most of his body utterly melted away.

“Hmm… Fire Resistance at the Adept-level at least,” the moon elf said. “Forced me to utilize a sigil which took a milennia to craft too.”

Certain sigils on the script-bearer moon elf’s hands lit up, and next came a combination of lightning and wind. At a far lower level of power. Perhaps the foe had learned not to attempt massive attacks against Orodan?

“Those too? Troublesome… elements are out of the equation then…”

“I’ll spare you the trouble. I’m resistant to curses and acid as well,” Orodan declared. “Fight me toe to toe, mages don’t fare well against me.”

In response, a series of curses and acid landed upon him too. Not as powerful as the flames, but still decent enough that Orodan gained five levels in Curse Resistance and three for Acid. His opponent once again looked very damaged, but quickly recovered thanks to some unknown power source.

“A city’s energy reserves? A world core?” Orodan asked. “I sense something tethered to you, but I’m not sure what.”

“The primary soul nexus of the hells. Every single deceased being in the afterlife of our dimension empowers me,” the moon elf said. “Are you a match, time looper?”

“I overpowered the cores of three plague worlds in a contest of energy generation,” Orodan said.

That certainly got a reaction out of the script-bearer. His icy face displayed a look of shock which was quickly schooled.

“From all I’ve studied of you… you’re not the type to lie or bluff,” the moon elf said. “Attrition is meaningless against you then.”

The moon-elf script-bearer empowered himself further, and dark chitinous material began forming over his skin. With a roar of hatred, his foe charged right into melee!

Now this was a mage Orodan could respect!

The moon-elf was a rather powerful unarmed fighter, to the point that Orodan was overwhelmed in a match of pure technique. Still, Orodan’s own physicality was superior, and something was off about the foe.

“Your moves are choppy… you fight as though unfamiliar with your own body,” Orodan said.

“Of course it is. You think I chose this pathetic form?” the moon elf asked as they engaged in an exchange of blows in which Orodan was outskilled but won through brute force. “An abominable power like the one you bear did this to me!”

“Then you’re…”

“An Arch-Devil. By all rights, that is who I am, who I was… until something abominable cleansed me a long time ago,” the moon elf said. “I used to be a Devil King, but now they call me the Script-King as I’m forced to resort to a fraction of what power I had. A mockery, a most horrific defiling which must never be allowed to occur again. No devil must ever go through the grievous torture of being stripped of their essence… you must be put down permanently.”

Orodan didn’t recognize this Arch-Devil at all, nor had he ever cleansed a devil in all his loops. Just who had done this?

“Even your soul is just…”

“Fractured? Disharmonious? What else do you have to say?”

Dirty.

It was incredibly rare to see a soul which was so contaminated. The outer layer of the soul could be impure, but not the soul core itself. Unless some manner of insidious control was present, souls were typically pure at the core, even if they had their contradictions, darknesses and burdensome thoughts these would only affect the outer layer.

Hells, it wasn’t even that it was dirty… rather that something had irrevocably changed what it should be. Some manner of strange force.

“Who did this to you?” Orodan asked, feeling a bit of pity.

Was this what his own cleaning skill could do to someone? A part of Orodan resolved then and there that the act of irrevocably changing someone in such a way, stripping them of their very being, was a horrid act. Devil, vampire or no… better to die a thousand times in order to seek victory than resort to the sickening act of ‘purifying’ someone of vampirism or being a devil.

“I do not know, though I am ever in pursuit of that truth,” the Script King answered. “Enough talk.”

They fought for a few more exchanges. The Script King fought well in melee combat, with his punches and kicks often connecting and winding around Orodan’s own. He had no doubt that the former Arch-Devil was a deadly unarmed combatant in his prime. If anything, fighting a peak-Transcendent in such a manner wouldn’t normally have been so easy and Orodan had less confidence in cleanly beating a fully powered Arch-Devil Script King in his prime.

But… the battle was a losing one for the now moon elf. Orodan’s brute force and raw physicality simply battered past defenses or outright powered through attacks. The runes and sigils dotting his opponent’s skin glowed, and mental assaults, chronomancy and the like surged forth. Yet it was all ineffective.

And as Orodan fought, he began to look closer at the former Arch-Devil. He began looking deeply, and learning, and seeing what he was up against.

Suddenly, the Script King stopped.

“Hold.”

“Surrendering?” Orodan asked.

“Never. I hate the ability you possess. Our enmity is irreconcilable. But it appears we are at an impasse. Your resilience is far too high, your resistances, varied and plentiful. I do not wish to test the bottom of your reserves either, as that would take too long.”

“You’ve come to realize that a battle of attrition would lead to your loss?” Orodan asked.

“Unfortunately, the rumors of your freakish and impossible power were no lie,” the Script King said. “If I draw this out, it will only be to my detriment. And while you’re free to refuse… what I’ve heard of your obstinate nature leads me to think you’ll accept a decisive clash of blows.”

“Then, how about we both commit to our final cards. Lay it all on the line, our mightiest attacks, each of us,” Orodan proposed.

“My thoughts exactly. I’d hoped to best you in an honest duel, yet reality is a harsh mistress. And with that meddling half-dragon not present in this dimension… these can be more freely used,” the Script King said as he drew out multiple items. Shards. And these then began to knit together in an eerie display, forming a slightly larger crystal. “Did you know that these can be combined together? None within the hells know of where they come from, but the smallest of them can be combined together… their power magnified.”

“Good. Let me have it then,” Orodan said. “I believe we’ve fought long enough that I’m getting a deeper understanding of just what happened to you. Let’s end this.”

The very dimension they were in shook, the moon elf’s body was wracked with convulsions and he suffered grievous damage by channelling as much of his own soul energy into the newly formed crystal as he could.

This was fine. In fact, this was what Orodan was hoping for.

Channeling the power of the soul nexus into the crystal could’ve lead to backlash, and from what he’d seen, the shards didn’t like receiving multiple energy sources, only a singular one. In this case, it was the Script King’s soul energy.

The crystal glowed with a deeper shade of pink, and within the blink of an eye, fired.

It was far stronger than the beam the Hegemony had tried hitting him with. It seemed that the crystal formed from the joining of multiple shards led to a deadlier beam.

Yet, Orodan held faith.

His shield was slung behind his back. His sword sheathed. He wouldn’t need them for this.

All he needed…

…was the broom he drew forth.

The Script King’s mangled and irrevocably changed soul wasn’t just damaged… it was filthy. And consequently, this meant that the soul energy which had empowered the crystal and comprised the beam, was also dirty.

And for a soul that had been cleansed, purified even… just what sort of filth was this?

It was a filth of purity.

The very fact that the Script King’s soul was naturally demonic and was now instead pure, was an abomination. An affront to nature. It was dirty.

He recalled a conversation he’d had with W78 once, discussing the meaning of cleaning.

“…what one sees as clean can be altered.”

And how cleanliness was defined by the wielder.

And with that in mind, Orodan’s broom swept forward, targeting the very dirty soul energy that composed the beam. It might not work on anyone else, but on this poor being who had been changed from an Arch-Devil and into a moon elf… it would suffice.

The Script King’s soul was dirty, not because it had conventional impurities within… but because the very natural order was skewed. It had been cleansed of the natural devil essence that it should have. The purity that it now held was unclean, conceptually.

And Orodan didn’t like it one bit. Not when he’d recently begun to see the wrong in doing such things.

His broom connected, and the beam went out of control as the normally pure soul energy with the signature of a moon elf… now became one with the soul energy of an Arch-Devil.

[Reality Alteration 5 → Reality Alteration 8]

The Script King looked utterly flabbergasted.

“H-how… you… changed my soul energy…”

“Correct. I believe a grave injustice was done to you,” Orodan said. “Stripping away who someone is through the tyrannical application of cleaning, is an affront to nature. Sometimes, cleanliness is about the natural order of things. And in this case… I intend on rectifying the unnatural purity that your soul has been infected with.”

His broom lashed out once more, and the moon elf before him didn’t even resist.

Immediately, Orodan encountered some absolutely unbelievable resistance.

Flashes of unknown cleaning techniques entered his mind. They opposed him. The purity that had locked down the soul of the Script King fought back with a ferocious ardor. Orodan wasn’t just dealing with a purity that opposed him, but the will of the very being that had originally purified the soul of this former Arch-Devil.

And it was a wealth of skill, a cosmos of experience that seemed utterly impossible to surmount. Transcendent? Embodier? One could train for a billion years and still not be enough to reach the level this being was at. Frankly, he got a strange feeling from the leftover will of this being, eerily similar to what he felt in the presence of an Administrator.

Orodan was but level 98 with his Celestial skill. How could he compare?

Techniques of ages past, visions and glimpses from the very birth of something incredible… of a time before numbers, skills and levels… it all flashed through his mind, to oppose him. It was insane, impossible. No Transcendent or God could overcome this.

And yet…

…Orodan refused to buckle.

The broom in his hand creaked dangerously as he threw every iota of power he had into the sweep pointed at the Script King’s soul. And he recalled his own techniques.

Picking up the dirty rag and cleaning the bedside table. Beating the rugs to rid them of dust and debris, cleaning and polishing the very footpath leading to his dilapidated hovel.

So what if this being’s experience with Cleaning was dramatically higher?

What Orodan lacked in time and quantity, he would make up with quality.

A million? A billion? Who cared how long this unseen foe had cleansed for? Orodan’s talent in Cleaning was beyond compare.

Many people spoke better than he. There were quite a few better mages than him. Hells, there might even be a few warriors who were more talented in their skills and understanding.

But, he held utmost faith in one dogmatic fact…

…nobody in the universe, System or otherwise, was better than Orodan Wainwright in Cleaning.

A roar of pure rage left his lips, and the unstoppable determination of Orodan fueled his raw belief in his own Cleaning. Each and every basic technique he’d picked up from the very start of his journey was recalled in perfect detail, and improved upon multiple times over in the span of an instant.

Under this insane pressure, pitted against a cosmic existence that had a monstrous level of talent in Cleaning… Orodan’s own talent grew.

The deepest parts of his soul resonated.

[Domain Of Perfect Cleaning 98 → Domain Of Perfect Cleaning 99]

And then he immediately locked his insights away, inward, refusing to allow the touch of the System upon them.

It was a strange feeling, to be so profound in a skill where the System’s connection and the knowledge and experience he could connect to as per his skill level, was no longer needed.

He had long suspected that the System didn’t accurately reflect his insights into Cleaning, and here it was proven once more.

He had plans for the final level, and it wouldn’t do to let the System update it too early.

With understanding in his eyes, the broom went forth and simply touched the soul of the Script King…

…and the remnant will of a mighty being was vanquished, and for the briefest of instants, he saw the glimpse of a hooded being back turned towards him, hammer in the left hand, an orb of purity in the right, System glyphs flitting about them as they faced down an endless wall of Eldritch.

[Reality Alteration 8 → Reality Alteration 20]

And at the end of his broom, the returned Arch-Devil before him trembled in awe.

The dimensional boundaries cracked and shattered, bringing Orodan back into the real world, into the city of Druhmiyan.

Zaessythra looked to be fighting evenly against Devil King Gutriyaz, while W78 had already bested Devil King Egrimaaz. Upon the arrival of him and this new Arch-Devil though, all went silent.

“Who… who are you?” Devil King Gutriyaz asked, staring at the newly returned Arch-Devil. “Your skin… it is pitch black as the Arch-Devil’s should be. You look so familiar, yet I do not recall you…”

“Gutriyaz… it is I…”

“No… it cannot be! The curse laid by that fell purity could not be broken by our greatest script-bearers! Who are you really?!” Devil King Gutriyaz angrily roared.

“Old friend… can you not recognize me after so long? All these millennia you have known me by a moniker I did not ask for. Script King… they said,” the Arch-Devil spoke. “And yet now… I am in a form I’d thought lost forever. Devil King Azgaraaz, the old Overking… has returned.”

“Damn it Orodan… did you just empower an enemy so you could have a good fight with him?!” Zaessythra angrily asked.

Well, he actually hadn’t done it for that purpose…

…although now that she mentioned it.

#

The Council-Fortress of Druhmiyan was located at the peak of the floating city. Guards riding upon flying demonic beasts would patrol the skies above the city and yet would never venture too close to the Council-Fortress. It was an imposing fort; the walls lined with a heavy number of defenders and hellish war machines.

And as Orodan and his companions made their way through the halls and towards the Court of the Council, he had to admit that the decor was far less flashy than he would’ve thought. Most other palaces he’d been in, from the Imperial Citadel in Novar’s Peak to the Celestial Palace in Swordmist City upon Xian, were rather gaudy.

The Council-Fortress was anything but. And the guards were frequent, even if they refused to look him in the eye. Especially after what he’d done.

After the restoration of the Script King, or rather, Devil King Azgaraaz, the fighting had quickly died down. Devil King Gutriyaz, Devil King Egrimaaz and the restored former Overking had all left. Although the old Overking had simply made one proclamation.

That he owed Orodan a favor.

Furthermore, many Devil Kings who were in line with the Script King and chomping at the bit to challenge Orodan to an honor duel immediately backed down, and Druhmiyan became a rather empty city as many people suddenly left to take stock of the situation. After all, one of the biggest power players of the hells had returned.

Not that Devil King Saathmaraz or the Overking of the hells would be very happy.

Well, that was one way to achieve neutrality.

The guide alongside him was weirdly silent, and more than a bit apprehensive.

“Our entire galaxy was destroyed, and that man was one of the last people seen fleeing through the grand array leading to the Athranos Galaxy,” Orodan heard a man petition. “And now people are saying he’s been spotted within Druhmiyan? I demand he answer for his crimes.”

The footsteps were somewhat audible, so the man turned to see who entered the Court of the Council, and his eyes immediately went wide in rage and shock.

“It’s not like I destroyed your galaxy,” Orodan said.

“Time looper! You dare show your face?! The Blackworth Collective weren’t the only folks living within the Vystaxium Galaxy,” the man said. Dressed in an elegant black raiment with a firearm at his hip which was promptly drawn. “Our homes and families are gone and someone must answer for it! You and that foolish boy-King can burn in-”

Orodan didn’t see it. Not without Time Compression.

One moment the man was speaking. The next, he was falling apart on each side, carved in half from top to bottom.

“Overking… you cannot simply execute petitioners in this court…” one of the Devil Kings said.

“Resurrect and provide the man generous compensation. All petitions for the day are closed, we shall hear him tomorrow,” the hulking giant on the throne said. “Clear the Court of everyone save Devil King Saathmaraz.”

The Arch-Devil was large. Far bigger than any other he’d seen, and definitely more physically imposing than the restored Devil King Agmaraaz, who formerly held the position of Overking. Orodan felt that this too, was a peak-Transcendent. And not a foe he could win in a fair toe to toe fight against. He’d have to pull out all the stops, use Time Compression and then perhaps use his Celestial skill in a most distasteful manner.

The other Devil Kings looked more than a little unhappy at being commanded to leave while Saathmaraz remained, yet they complied all the same.

“Orodan Wainwright. We meet once more,” Devil King Saathmaraz called out. “Here I was, prepared to engage in politics and schemes all for the sake of keeping the hells out of the war between you and the Hegemony and Celestial Emperor. Yet somehow, you act in a way which solves the problem while creating many more. I should not be surprised… since our first meeting you have had an inclination towards a most… reckless personality.”

“I hardly did anything. Fought a few people, did a bit of cleaning,” Orodan answered.

“You and your cleaning… truly a double-edged sword you wield. On one hand, it can purify vampires and devils. On the other, it can restore to full power a Devil King long thought lost,” Devil King Saathmaraz said. “You have caused a problem for us. Here is his Mightiness, Overking Yulvaraaz Ur-Kralkar, third of his line.”

“Time looper… you have caused much stir within Druhmiyan today,” the Overking said. “If you came here wishing to ensure the neutrality of us in your petty little war, you’ve succeeded.”

“I came here to meet with Devil King Saathmaraz and see if neutrality was a possibility,” Orodan said. “Whether it succeeded or failed didn’t matter to me.”

“Yes. They speak of your boldness and lack of hesitation. I have no doubt you would make foes of everyone within the universe if needed,” the Overking said. “Your actions today have proved that much.”

“You disapprove?” Orodan asked.

“My disapproval matters little now that the political situation of the hells is soon to spiral out of control,” the Overking said. “Notice how the city has emptied out noticeably in the past hour? The Devil Kings have left to their individual domains, to either pledge loyalty to myself, Azgaraaz or ride out the coming storm of internal war.”

“It will be a bad time for the hells then? I wasn’t aware one Devil King’s return to full power could have such consequences,” Orodan said.

“A bad time? Perhaps for the war front in the sixth layer where the disunity here will naturally lower the amount of support provided,” the Overking explained. “For a time, the Conclave and some of the other predatory carrion-eaters in other galaxies may make great inroads. Whenever a legitimate challenge to an Overking presents itself, this has always been the case.”

“Other galaxies? I knew the hells reached rather far… perhaps to the neighboring galaxies, but to others as well?”

“Your own galaxy is but one of many that we have access to,” the Overking said. “Of course, our fated foes, the Conclave, also have their influence spread throughout many galaxies.”

“Yet, you don’t seem overly concerned,” Orodan remarked.

“An accurate observation. While the coming storm will be a turbulent one, with a likely chance of my deposition. The hells will be stronger as a result with the return of a former Overking. A great offensive against the Conclave will occur, and we shall claim many worlds.”

“And you won’t be killed?”

“We are not as uncivilized as the Conclave and its lies attempt to portray us as,” the Overking said. “I spared Devil King Azgaraaz during my ascension a million years ago and he fell in line under my reign. Similarly, if I lose, I shall dutifully fall in line and obey any current Overking as is custom.”

“You fought the Script King when he was an Arch-Devil, or in his current form?” Orodan asked.

“It was only after his ill-fated trip to a black hole that he returned in such a state. Truthfully, I had no designs on the throne of the hells, and he requested I duel him for it and take rulership,” the Overking said. “In his prime… he was fearsome indeed.”

A trip to a black hole? Why did this sound so familiar? It seemed that nobody who made a journey to a black hole had a happy ending. And given who Jian Huangdi potentially met during his journey into one… Orodan was beginning to have an inkling as to just what kind of being cleansed the former Script King.

Still, the current Overking had his hands full.

“Which means you’ll remain neutral until then,” Orodan said.

“Towards you, we shall remain neutral for the foreseeable future. With the restoration of Devil King Azgaraaz, you’ve proven that you’re not the existential threat that many thought you to be,” the Overking said. “The Conclave shall bear our wrath, but I sense you’re no lapdog of theirs.”

“I owe them no particular loyalty besides the sharing of mutual enemies. I suppose the purpose of my visit here has been fulfilled then,” Orodan said. And to think Zhou Shan wanted him to play it diplomatically. Turns out acting the reckless fool had its advantages sometimes. “Say, that carving behind the throne, what’s that?”

“This? It’s a depiction of the ancestor himself… some say it’s the oldest devil, others that it’s our progenitor,” the Overking said. In truth, we do not know. In any case, I am no historian and do not dwell on such matters.”

What was the carving?

A hooded figure, hammer in the left hand, orb of purity in the right, System symbols flitting above their head as they faced down a wall of purple and gray.

#

“Your departure from the hells went smoothly then?”

“Of course, why would it not?” Orodan asked in return. “The Overking already said the hells would be remaining neutral during the war.”

“It’s just that… you practically barged into Druhmiyan, conducted yourself most violently and they just let you walk out?” the High Sovereign asked. “No assassins waiting outside. No further tricks or schemes?”

“Did you want there to be?” Orodan asked. “I admit I could’ve gone for a few more brawls myself. Shame I didn’t quite get to fight the restored Devil King Agmaraaz or the Overking. Well… one loop perhaps.”

“If this all goes to plan, there should be no need for any further loops,” Zaessythra said.

Or no need for further loops because he would be permanently dead. That was also a distinct possibility. He wasn’t the type to wallow in misery, but a certain level of realism and the acceptance that defeat was a real possibility lingered in his mind. He had died enough times, and he wasn’t delusional enough to believe he could beat absolutely everyone. Especially not the apocalyptic force coming for him.

What he did believe though, was that his will and soul would never break. Victory or defeat, the spirit of Orodan Wainwright would never break.

“Not that we are complaining about the destruction you sowed… but our preliminary reports suggest the return of the former Overking Agmaraaz,” Captain-General Ryzlan said. “And that his restoration is your doing.”

“What’s the issue? The neutrality of the hells has been acquired, has it not?” Orodan asked. “The enmity between the Conclave and the Hells isn’t my business.”

“An answer we were content to receive. But empowering our enemies - something we shall have to bear the consequences of down the road - is veering into the domain of making it your business,” the Captain-General said. “You are far too friendly with the devils of the hells for my liking.”

“I’ve been to the hells, they don’t seem all that bad. They don’t enslave anyone, the populations on their worlds seem content from what I hear, and the people aren’t being mistreated,” Orodan said. If he saw something he disliked, he would revise his opinion accordingly. But for now, the devils of the hells seemed rather… normal? Like any other faction of power, they just wanted to expand, and they treated conquered populations respectably. “If you’re just two rival factions competing over lucrative worlds to conquer, I don’t see how it’s any business of mine. If it makes you feel better I can resurrect some fallen hero of the Conclave as well.”

The Captain-General of the Conclave looked as though he wanted to respond, but the God held his tongue.

“Analysis: diverting from critical subject matter. Solution: divert focus towards hostile elements,” W78 said.

“That I agree with,” Lady Sujana said. “We now know that the shards can be combined into a crystal. This is a process which greatly amplifies the power of any attack launched from them.”

“Furthermore, as Orodan said, there’s no guarantee he can stop these crystals the same way as he did when facing Devil King Agmaraaz,” Zhou Shan said. “That was a unique method exploiting the fact that the Devil King’s soul was deeply broken and our time looper’s Celestial skill was able to affect it.”

“Then the only reliable method of countering them is through the usage of our own shards,” Zaessythra said. “We have enough now that we could attempt to form our own crystal and keep it near Orodan during combat. If anyone’s going to be a prime target for shard-based attacks, it’ll be him.”

“Even then. Shards aside, our enemy’s combat strength cannot be underestimated. My father is one of the most powerful peak-Transcendents in this galaxy. I’m still a good while away from being able to match him, and I doubt he’ll allow Orodan the opportunity to wage a battle of Celestial skills like the last confrontation we had,” Zhou Shan said. “The dwarves and their voidcraft are a threat too, even if we have our guns now thanks to the Blackworth Collective who’ve agreed to fight alongside us. The Hegemony though… Excromon, Astalavar and their leader Agrimon are contested easily enough, but their Crusaders, that world-eating dragon Avraxas in particular, we need a method of countering it.”

“Perhaps,” Zaessythra posed while looking directly at Orodan. “There might be a method of targeting the link between God and Transcendent. After all, these Crusaders are no more than a sickening soul meld, a forced combination of two beings.”

Orodan saw where this was going.

“No. These battles are beyond anyone on Alastaia,” he immediately shut down. “Why should they have to fight on our behalf?”

“You haven’t even asked her opinion on the matter,” Zaessythra replied.

Orodan was adamantly against it. Not again.

“The Hegemony, the dwarves and Jian Huangdi are dealt with easily enough,” Captain-General Ryzlan chimed in. “But you forget the true horror which will appear to assist the enemy.”

“The Reject,” Orodan said.

The true threat.

“I still cannot believe that this… Administrator… is the founding daoist we venerate upon Cultivator’s Peak,” Zhou Shan said. “Yet, the carving you saw in the hells was no coincidence either. These Administrators clearly have mortal origins. From a time well before any of us existed, but an origin all the same. Which means they are not insurmountable foes, but beings like you and I who can be defeated!”

“At what cost? We have three Embodier’s Sacrifices which we’re willing to provide, but the cost is a steep one for someone who will not even commit to an alliance with us,” Captain-General Ryzlan said. “And if what happened in the Vystaxium Galaxy is any indicator… these beings can destroy galaxies with their battles. How are we meant to stand against such a force? Do you expect us to fight for you?”

“No. I do not,” Orodan said.

“Then what will be our plan?” Zhou Shan asked.

“The plan. Will involve everyone else retreating once the Reject arrives upon the battlefield,” Orodan said. “The Administrators seem at least somewhat restrained in what they can do and who they can slaughter. If not by the System, then each other. In other words, his battle is with me, and I tire of having others die on my behalf.”

“You speak madness my friend! This is a battle which could cost you the entire time loop and lead to your permanent end! Never have I heard of someone attempting a battle with such a wide power gulf,” Zhou Shan said. “I… I refuse to allow you to go into battle empty-handed. Or alone. I shall stand alongside you.”

“Information: unit will not abandon friend.”

“You lot are too much! My time loops were far simpler when it was just me,” Orodan said angrily. “I… I appreciate your support. I do. But let a warrior fight his own battles in peace.”

“At the very least. If not for you, then for the High Sovereign and our alliance with the Celestial Court, we shall provide the three Embodier’s Sacrifices that we have in our inventory,” the Captain-General said. “Additionally, we’ll have a few more detatchments from nearby galaxies coming to help us before the date of the battle. In terms of manpower, we will not be lacking.”

“I don’t mean to sound ungrateful. I’m appreciative of the weapons. As for your concerns, I still intend on confronting the Reject primarily by myself. If anyone else comes along to support me…” Orodan trailed off and sighed. “…then they’re free to do as they wish. Who am I to stop someone rushing to their deaths? Just don’t let it be for me.”

“At worst, we’ll simply be resurrected afterwards,” Zhou Shan said. “Assuming our side wins the battle.”

“Which, given the odds in our favor, is a distinct possibility,” Zaessythra said. “Reject aside, our odds are looking hopeful.”

“We’re in agreement then. Fight against our foes, and when the Reject himself shows up… Orodan and I shall break away to handle it, and more can join in depending on how the battle goes,” Zaessythra said.

“It’s time then,” Orodan said. “Two weeks remain, and we’ll have to fortify our battleground. After all, the Reject is heading for one particular place.”

Alastaia.

It was time to return home.

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