I was…pretty thankful that Alveron gave me a minute to absorb the implications of his words.

  It was just overwhelming to me.

  I’d put off thinking about just how I was actually going to kill Fynneas for a long time now. I mean, I was barely past my second breakpoint and into my level two-hundreds. Alveron was a Paragon, someone who had reached the level cap of one thousand, and he had still struggled to slay the slavering beast that was his grandfather. He’d still done it multiple times, of course, but the fact remained. The sliding scale of power as you climbed your way past the breakpoints wasn’t linear.

  It was very much so exponential. Grey was in his level seven-hundreds, and I wasn’t anywhere near even one-third to one-fourth of his strength. The difference between my mentor and Alveron at his peak, before he started to succumb to Core Collapse, must have been staggering. He was weakened now, and I’d probably put good money on Grey in a fight. But the fact remained.

  Actually killing Fynneas, even with the cheating bullshit that was The Scintillant Blade, was going to be a nearly impossible task.

  And now I was being told that we didn’t even know if that would actually reverse the effects of the Skyfall. Somehow, someway, the Divinity I was meant to reclaim from him had already been possibly stolen. It had been brought forth from the cage within the Concord constructed by the Great Spirits to contain it, to now surround the entire planet of Vereden.

  Everything that was happening to us, from the corruption in the air that actively attacked the souls of those who walked in the free air, to the mutated monsters pushing against the wards, and to the pressure that threatened to destroy those very wards…

  It all stemmed from the frozen, crystallized lightning that now spanned the skies of the entire planet.

  Fynneas’s tainted Divinity.

  I let out a long, slow sigh, closing my eyes in resignation. “Fuck.”

  Across from me, I heard Alveron chuckle mirthlessly. “Indeed. Hopefully, you see now why we must make for the heart of Smaragd immediately. The battle will be long and hard, and we may yet perish in the attempt to slay my grandsire. But we have no choice. Fynneas must die a final death, and that can only happen at your hands, Precursor. I shall attach my forces to your own, and I will lead you into that den of madness where we shall meet our fate.”

  That caused my eyes to flutter open and stare at Alveron in confusion. “What, what? Did…Kierla not tell you?”

  My response was a raised eyebrow from the old Elf. “Tell me what, pray tell? The child only informed me of your presence at the borders of our camp before I raced to find you. Well…that, and the admittedly large force you bring, which I am relieved to see.”

  I shook my head. “Well…we’re not heading straight to Smaragd. We already knew that’s where we ultimately needed to go, from what Anima had told me in the first place. That’s why we were on an eastward path and were just lucky to run into Kierla, who led us to you. No, we’re going somewhere else first. Somewhere we can get more allies for the fight ahead. Somewhere that needs our help.”

  “We’re going to Rhoscara.”

  While I had been speaking, Alveron’s other eyebrow had raised in surprise at my words. But when I finished, they lowered in look of narrowed thought. “Rhoscara…one of the Dwarven cities, correct? I believe they command a large force that has countered my mad cousins for decades. They would make worthy allies, but are the Dwarves not embroiled in a civil conflict at the moment? Wait…” This time, he narrowed his old, cloudy eyes at me in suspicion. “What kind of help do these prospective allies require?”

  I matched his suspicion with a frown of my own. “The forces of the Principality are marching on the city. We intend to reach it first to warn them, and then help House Florens in repelling the invading force. Then, we-”

  “Out of the question,” Alveron interrupted me sharply, cutting out with one hand in agitation. He shook his head. “This is foolishness, Nathaniel. You are involving yourself in mortal conflicts when you should be concerned with immortal ones. You cannot risk your forces in a battle that concerns Dwarven internal politics. Even if,” He said, raising his voice to stop me from speaking when I tried to. “If, that is, you triumphed over the Principality, every soldier you lose is one that could have bought you another step into the heart of Fynneas’s throne room. No, you cannot do this. You must not. They would be worthy allies in the fight against what remains of old Lasgach, but it is not worth the risk.”

  I scowled at Alveron’s callousness, tightening my grip on my staff. “The Principality intends to raze that city to the ground, Alveron. Rhoscara is one of the five largest cities in all of Velancia. If we let them, they’ll slaughter hundreds of thousands of innocent people. People whose only crime is the detestation of slavery, and the refusal to allow it to bloom in their home.”

  This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.

  Alveron grew more upset than I had ever seen him, then, and sharply drove the butt of his gnarled wooden staff into the grass below. A small shockwave rolled out from the point of impact, sending a shower of small, previously hidden dandelion seeds up into the air. As they scattered all around us, the elderly Elf barred his teeth at me in frustration. “Compare that to the tens of millions that call this planet their HOME, Nathaniel!” He outright shouted at me. “If we fail in our quest to kill Fynneas and free Vereden from the grip of his Mantle, everyone will die! What if you die in the fight against these Dwarves?! What then, Nathaniel?! The weight of a single city cannot outweigh that of an entire planet! You cannot be so careless with your own life! You might not wish it to be so, but you are the most important person in the world right now! You are the only one who can slay Fynneas for good!”

  There were a lot of things I immediately wanted to shout back at him then, because that was exactly the kind of talk that pissed me off the most. I was so, so tired of people trying to weigh one life against another and justifying atrocities to it. I was guilty of it myself in the past.

  But part of the reason I had founded the Order of the Polaris Reach was that I wanted to move past that.

  What was the point of it all, if you didn’t strive to be better? If you didn’t fight every day to be a stronger person, not for the power of it, but for those who lacked that strength? That was, I think, something the native people of Vereden had forgotten, in their search for strength from the System.

  They had fostered a society where strength of arm was more important than strength of character.

  Instead of blowing up at Alveron, I instead stifled my rage and frustration with the ancient Elf, growing calmer as I did so. I stilled and met his eyes evenly. “This isn’t up for debate. The decision has been made, and promises will be kept. The Herztalian expedition and its allies make for Rhoscara with or without you. You can either join us or not, Alveron. Either way, we’ll be marching for Smaragd in the aftermath of the battle for Rhoscara.”

  Whichever way it went.

  Something happened, then, that I…probably should have expected. This was Vereden, after all.

  The powerful weren’t used to not getting their way.

  The air grew heavier as Alveron regarded me with a distinctly cold air. I could feel a charge hanging around me as the elderly Elf shifted his feet in a hostile manner, and something alarming started to happen to his eyes. Creeping in from the edges of his sclera were what looked to be ghostly vines, snaking their way forward to curl around his iris in a spiral pattern.

  I could almost taste the Mana in the air, as it seemed Alveron prepared himself to force his plans upon me. Distantly, as I tensed every muscle in my body, I could feel my Core Lattice wondering why he hadn’t unleashed his Mantle as part of his intimidation efforts. And then my Middle Lattice reminded us that the physical realm was locked from the Concord, and that’s where Mantles dwelled.

  And before I could even draw a weapon at the provocation…

  Alveron abruptly deflated, the heavy Mana in the air dissipating and the battle manifestation in his eyes vanishing with it. He leaned heavily on his staff, then, looking more fragile than I had ever seen the Elf. He closed his eyes in exhausted resignation and shook his head before opening them once more. “I cannot convince you otherwise, can I?” He asked sadly. When I mutely shook my head, Alveron sighed. “Then so be it. I cannot force the matter, no matter how much I wish to. You and your abilities…they’re too unique. Too irreplaceable. Despite my uncertainty that doing so will lift the curse of this Divinity, it is still our best option. And you are the only one capable of permanently slaying him. So be it. Be this on your head, Nathaniel. I hope you are prepared to bear the burden of this decision. For good…or for ill.”

  I studied him for a moment cautiously, checking that he had seemingly given up on his decision to attack me. “Yes,” I said slowly. “I always am.”

  Alveron bowed his head and shook it once more. “As you say. I will prepare my people for the journey to this…Rhoscara. Give us several hours, and we shall join your caravan…and your expedition.”

  With that, Alveron turned in place and walked away. I watched him go for several minutes, standing still and pondering the confrontation I had just narrowly managed to avoid. Eventually, he disappeared into the trees, as if he had never been here in the first place.

  I must have stood there longer than I intended, because eventually I became aware of Fade nudging his nose into my palm. I blinked and broke out of my introspection. Looking down, I met the worried eyes of my familiar. I managed a wan smile at the horned wolf, and shifted my hands to scratch the top of his head.

  That didn’t seem to reassure him much.

  “Not as friendly as I remember him being.” Fade chuffed.

  I shifted my eyes back to the forest across from us, and maybe it was my imagination…

  But I swear I could see a faint glinting of eyes, from the wan light of the Skyfall, streaming down through the canopy above.

  I repressed a shiver. “Try not to hold it against him too much,” I said quietly out loud. “It’s a stressful situation, and it involves…well, not just his entire race, but all of Vereden. I…understand why he nearly…”

  “Attacked you? Captured and forced you to do what he wants?” Fade replied in a surprisingly sharp tone. When I blinked and looked down at him, the wolf had a distinctly canine frown on his lips, his ears flat against his skull. “That’s an explanation, not an excuse. He was nearly ready to enslave you the same way those Dwarves did, I could tell. I don’t think he’s…all there anymore, Nate.”

  I gazed at Fade with a strange mix of wonder and melancholy. “Since when were you so insightful?”

  Fade…wasn’t really a puppy anymore, was he? I suppose Spirit Wolves grew up fast.

  To think, this time last year, he had been little more than a puppy I couldn’t even speak with.

  Said Spirit Wolf just snorted at me. “Hey, I was learning just as much from Taran as you were from the University. I can’t be na?ve forever. Now c’mon, your standoff with the old man wasn’t private. I think you might have worried everyone else.”

  When I looked behind us, I could see that he was right. There were more people watching us from the safety of the wards than I would have expected, and more than one of them had a concerned look on their face.

  Including, I could tell, Sylvia.

  I winced and followed after Fade as he padded back towards our people.

  We had to prepare for another group of warriors joining the expedition.

  Hopefully, we could feed them all.