The Stubborn Skill-Grinder In A Time Loop

Naturally, nobody had contested his departure. Besting the patriarch of a dragon flight and numerous Avatars had a way of forcing people to heed his words. And when the hidden monster Balastion Novar had come forth? Orodan had bested him too.

Needless to say, those who’d attempted to contest his departure now knew that nobody on Inuan was up to the task of stopping him.

His month of honing his abilities had also led to gains in spatiomancy. While he’d previously struggled to teleport from Velestok to Arkwall, he could likely teleport from one side of Alastaia to another now. Using this he had stepped from Jerestir to the craggy deserts of the Aswarthian Peninsula in the Eastern Kingdoms.

He was a bit tired of the Republic and saw no reason to rub salt into their wounds and cause upheaval by remaining. So, while Ranmere’s Folly would’ve been a decent spot for entry into the depths, he instead made way for the deserts of the Eastern Kingdoms where another known entrance into the abyssal depths was. And from there…

…a trip to the world core of Alastaia.

The inner deserts of the Aswarthian Peninsula were bereft of regular people, only monsters traversed the dunes. A sandstorm had been brewing earlier, with the windspeeds fast enough that an Initiate-level individual would’ve been torn apart. And all the monsters had either hidden under the dunes or fled into any nearby caves or underground openings. Of course, a single clap from Orodan’s hands and the resulting shockwave had cleared the storm up easily enough.

And with the sandstorm now abated, the things which dwelled beneath the sands could finally get a good read on what traversed the surface.

A giant maw filled with thousands of sharp teeth erupted from the dunes, and it enveloped Orodan whole…

…only to spit him out immediately after. Along with multiple broken teeth.

Unlike most creatures who relied on an instinctual sense of the soul and consequently couldn’t track him, these sandworms hunted through tracking the vibrations and shifts on the surface of the sands. To an extent, Orodan could still be tracked through such mundane physical methods. Thus, with the sandstorm gone and no interference in its tracking, it had eagerly risen upwards and chomped him right up.

Though, it hadn’t counted on its prospective meal being tougher than its teeth.

The sandworm took one look at Orodan, realized it could get no read off of him, and then promptly turned tail and fled. Which Orodan allowed as it was merely a Master-level creature.

In any case, no more sandworms bothered him as he approached the entry to the depths at Alvatel’s Snare. It was the location where a somewhat straightforward path to the abyssal depths was located, and it was named after the ancient hero Adeltaj had fought alongside who trapped the gigantic depths worm within in order to kill it long ago.

Yes, Orodan could’ve simply ripped right through the earth, but the damage would have been unnecessary, plenty of depths wildlife would’ve been massacred, and there was a good chance of causing earthquakes on the surface.

With a step forward, he entered the depths at Alvatel’s Snare.

There was nothing remarkable in the civilized depths, though it was quite interesting to note that the environment on the surface heavily influenced what sorts of creatures were within the depths below. Groups of scorpions, snakes and wild cats were sheltering in the initial few miles of the civilized depths, waiting out the sandstorm above. And they all gave Orodan a wide berth since they could get no reading on him.

The sandstorms, though dangerous, were still part of the natural ecosystem. And as a result, the wildlife had adapted to them. Predators waited in silence for prey to come shelter near caves or entrances to the depths, and then they would pounce. And the deadly high-speed winds also had the benefit of revealing many patches of magical plant roots beneath the sands which grazing monsters could then use for sustenance once the storms abated.

Depths ecology aside, things simply steered clear of him. Orodan was entirely unchallenged as he passed into the wild depths, then the deep depths and finally jumped down a rather deep hole leading to the abyssal depths.

Here too, nothing really came after him. The abyssal depths were rich in their density of world energy, and the monsters greedily fed off of it. The Grandmaster-level monsters that encountered Orodan shrieked, hissed and looked willing to defend their territory. Though, none came after him and they looked rather perplexed when he simply kept walking on.

While he could still learn from challenging those weaker than him, he wasn’t about to run around and dispense beatings to monsters minding their own business.

He passed many deadly creatures, which gave him a wide berth. And interestingly enough, saw a weird spider which seemed to practically phase out of reality upon the sight of him. The System’s loss was quite apparent here as he only received the barest sensation that the dimensional plane was moving. Orodan’s eyes widened for a moment as he recalled where he’d seen it before…!

It was the dimensional phase spider! He’d seen this weird creature in the hells and read about it too! Was this thing the key to learning more about how to access different dimensions?

He ran about, trying to get a whiff of where it was, and briefly considered reversing time to pull it right back. However, he could track one down later. For now, something else awaited.

The final wild monster before his destination was a five-headed lion, a triple Grandmaster-level creature and quite deadly. And it simply roared and hissed like a wild animal incapable of communication.

“Are you all so antisocial?” Orodan asked. “I’m just passing through, and all you lot do is growl, chitter or hiss at me.”

Practically everything in the depths had refused to speak to him. It was more than a bit odd.

In response, yet again it growled, though with what Orodan could swear was a look of confusion on its face.

“Wait a minute… of course… no System translation,” Orodan muttered. “Nod if you understand what I say.”

The five heads gave a slow nod.

No wonder he’d not managed to communicate with any non-human creatures so far. Mahari and Altaj’s pegasi hadn’t actually spoken to him at all this loop, the depths centipedes for the energy well had simply stayed out of his way as he cleared it, and he’d spoken to no dragons this loop.

“So, you can understand what I say, but I cannot understand you,” Orodan said. “Another reason to fix my lack of System.”

The five-headed lion looked confused, though Orodan simply walked past it and continued onward.

And at last, his destination…

…the first gate.

With a Gate Guardian standing in front, looking quite perplexed. It was an eleven-foot-tall troll with eight-arms with vicious-looking blades in each hand, and Orodan surmised it was stronger than any Gate Guardian he’d seen in the abyssal depths beneath Ranmere’s Folly.

Of course, that was still woefully weaker than Orodan himself.

The troll grunted and spoke in a strange tongue, and Orodan had to put out a hand, gesturing it to stop it.

“I can’t understand you; my System is gone. So, let’s dispense with the talking and get to fighting,” Orodan said. “I intend on reaching the world core, will you try and stop me?”

The Gate Guardian frowned, and then all eight arms began spinning the blades in their hands.

Battle called.

Or as good of a battle as he’d get against a weaker foe anyways. Still, fighting against eight-arms while limiting his own speed and strength seemed an interesting challenge. Especially since the troll Gate Guardian looked as though it knew how to handle the weapons.

His opponent had a reach advantage, and Orodan consequently brought out the halberd to counter it.

Eight serrated swords descended towards him, each of them coming in at awkward angles. And Orodan focused, spinning the halberd dextrously to catch six of the incoming attacks and sweep them aside. His shield in the left hand caught the remaining two.

Two seconds passed, and hundreds of attacks occurred, with Orodan casually weathering them all as he used the opportunity to sharpen his defensive form and polish his one-handed usage of the halberd with a shield in tandem.

Its attacks were of decent strength, but nothing extraordinary. The Eldritch Avatar was stronger, and Orodan felt confident that he exceeded it in strength by now. The troll seemed surprised that he could match its strength, but if anything, Orodan was greatly holding back.

Finally, its eyes took on a cautious look, and that was when Orodan felt it was his turn.

His leg shot out, and a swift low kick punished the Gate Guardian by bruising its calf and making it stumble. The halberd was then hooked around one of its eight arms, and it was pulled down to where two elbow strikes pummelled its face and caused its teeth to fly out from its mouth. Another step brought Orodan even closer, and a leg trip followed by a shove sent it to the ground.

“Not bad, but you fall into the classic trap of relying overly much on the weapon,” Orodan said as he waited for his opponent to get back up. “Eight arms and all you do is use the sword?”

That, and though it had eight arms, it only had two legs, which were an obvious point for trips and sweeps to imbalance it and bring it low.

The troll growled, but actually accepted the advice.

On the next pass it performed far more admirably and even taught Orodan a trick or two as he was forced to defend against a combination of fists and swords from eight arms and consequently shored up his combat style further.

Still, he could only gain understanding for so long from a weaker foe. Especially when it wasn’t arrogance to admit that Orodan was rather talented in the warrior arts and learned quickly. Thirty more seconds of melee, and he learned all there was to learn against this eight-armed warrior.

“This has been a good spar,” Orodan admitted. “Though, I believe that will be all.”

His halberd lashed out, and despite the Gate Guardian’s best attempts to defend, it was overwhelmed. The only difference was that despite holding back, Orodan was now going all-out in terms of skill.

Attacks ruthlessly flowed into one another, openings which could be exploited were far too narrow to capitalize upon, and weapons, fists, legs and elbows all combined to leave the poor troll a battered heap upon the ground.

At the end of it all, it tried to desperately stop him. Whether out of pity for what Orodan would face, or its duty, he didn’t know.

“If you’re trying to warn me about the Void Horror that will be sent up to stop me, worry not. I’ll be fine,” Orodan said. “I have no plans on disrupting civilization past the gate either, so you need not worry about any innocents.”

The first gate looked mostly the same, even if it was an entrance at a different location. A wall made of empowered material which was covered in the language of the System, with the density of the writing getting higher towards the center, where a small control core lay.

Orodan put his hand upon the core, and the gate condensed inwards to reveal the sight of sprawling monster civilization behind it.

He took a step past the threshold…

…and nothing happened.

“As expected…” he muttered to himself.

With no System, as of yet nothing had shown the ability to track him through magic, the tapestry of fate or his soul. He also had no Quest System of his own, which meant that Alastaia itself couldn’t really detect the fact that he’d stepped past the first gate.

He could only presume that the detection systems accounted for everyone having a soul tied to the System. Without one…

…he simply strode past the gate without any interference.

Oh, the beings inhabiting these underground cities were in a full-blown panic and practically mass-evacuated at the sight of him. But no Void Horror came his way immediately.

He walked past the cities and began moving down the gigantic halls which would eventually lead to the world core, and it was nearly twenty minutes after this walk that he finally saw what was supposed to stop him.

The Void Horror.

Long, grey and lanky. And it shot towards Orodan like a speeding artillery shot, equal amounts of rage and confusion upon its face as it roared in a tongue unfamiliar to him.

Both arms were outstretched and a moment from making contact when a shield bash met them, and the entirety of its continent-shaking momentum was reversed and it was sent flying backwards like a ragdoll.

Once upon a time he’d died against this thing within the span of a single blow.

No longer.

It was dazed upon the ground, numerous bones broken. It would recover though.

But for now, it needed to sleep. And the follow-up fist to its jaw ensured it would do just that.

Two more Gate Guardians emerged as he continued speeding towards the world core, but two simple yet powerful blows flattened them into the walls where they’d be indisposed for a while.

And after rounding a corner, at last he came face to face with it.

It was gigantic, but not as large as the world cores of some of the truly massive worlds he’d seen. Covered in the language of the System, with a spear-like pillar embedded into it, was the world core of Alastaia. And it was infected with Eldritch, just as it had been the first time Orodan had seen it.

And the Transcendent Core Guardian bat which flitted about, ready to defend it, was also corrupted.

The world core spoke in a booming voice, though in many unfamiliar tongues. After a while, it began shifting, until it finally settled upon the one tongue familiar to him. The Common Imperial language used across Inuan.

“What… are you?”

“Once upon a time, your World Ruler,” Orodan answered. “Though, that story can come after. For now…

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“…you might consider me the janitor. You’re long overdue for some cleaning.”

#

Cleansing the world core and core guardian of Eldritch had been trivially easy.

Orodan had cleansed multiple plague worlds of the taint. Purifying Alastaia was nothing in comparison.

In fact, his complete cleansing of the world core had led to the purification of all Eldritch upon his home world altogether. No more naturally occurring Eldritch, no more foul taint upon the Eldritch Avatar’s preferred landing grounds in the Valley of Spires.

Apart from one eccentric man in Arkwall, whose choice Orodan respected, Eldritch no longer existed upon Alastaia.

He was sure this phenomenon would be noticed and cause a stir in many circles. Still, it would take time for anyone else to verify the full extent of what he’d done.

The conversation between him and the purified Alastaia had taken near two hours. Over the course of which he’d explained who he was, the time loops, what he’d done during them, his goals and his current circumstances involving the loss of his System.

He’d also received an amulet from the world core, supposedly left over from the elves’ failed attempt to descend, which allowed him to now understand languages foreign to him. At least until the issue with his System was fixed.

Inside of a groove within the core, lay the world crown of Alastaia.

“Will you not claim what is rightfully yours?” Alastaia asked.

“I think not. Rulership has never been my desire, and I can already tell the crown requires a connection to one’s System in order to direct the flows of world energy,” Orodan said as he approached what actually interested him. The System Control Spike. “This thing though… it’s known as a System Control Spike. And it’s clearly of different construction than anything else here.”

“Its nature eludes even us…”

“The boon it granted me in the last loop still works,” Orodan said. “This space within my soul which can carry things across the time loops hasn’t been affected by the destruction of my System. Though, to interact with the Control Spike again, I’ll need to repair my System.”

“Which would require learning the language of the System… and tapping into the power which empowers it,” Alastaia said.

Did it? Orodan was feeling more and more dissatisfied with the thought of repairing his System using System energy and its own language. Still, he kept his brewing thoughts on the matter to himself for now.

“In most cases, yes. But this System Control Spike is… different. It’s tied to the time loop mechanism which I empowered,” Orodan explained. “Unlike Quest Rewards, this I believe, might work even if I didn’t utilize the language and power of the Eldritch Boundless One. Though, I surmise I’ll still need to repair my System if I’m to change the boon it offers.”

“If any being is suited to such a tall task, it would be you, time looper. Your course is set then?”

“Aye. I have more learning to do, skills to hone and a System to repair. And at the end of it all… a fated meeting in five months where things have a good chance of escalating towards something more.”

In five months, the Eldritch Avatar would descend. And if Orodan managed to get things done by that point… then far worse awaited.

But before that, Eldiron was his destination. And on the way to it, mayhem to cause.

#

The peaks of the Dokuhan Mountains were hot, arid and plenty of monsters frequented them. Wandering tribes of orcs frequented the peaks and travelled from cave to cave in order to eke out survival. And as if life wasn’t hard enough for them, they also had to deal with frequent harassment and ‘censuses’ from the under-mountain confederation of the dwarves.

The under-mountain confederation was a kingdom of dwarves which resided beneath the Dokuhan Mountains. And Orodan knew from his time battling across the cosmos that they were a splinter, a remnant of the greater dwarven peoples which were spread across the galaxy, under the rule of the Dwarven God Varkir.

Orodan had little issue with the dwarves as a people. But he did have an issue with the under-mountain confederation. Specifically, with how they treated captives held beneath the mountain.

The peaks of the Dokuhan Mountains oft had orcish tribes wandering about, but the exception were the peaks directly above the sovereign territory of the dwarves. Which was why the sentries before Orodan were alarmed when he suddenly appeared, breaking the anti-spatiomancy wards of the dwarves.

“W-what the…? Sound the alarm!” a heavily armored dwarven commander called out.

Orodan stood on the peaks of the Dokuhan Mountains, directly above the under-mountain confederation’s capital city. Naturally, the area directly above was well-guarded.

And naturally, Orodan didn’t care.

His fist travelled downwards, impacting the ground, and it spoke to his level of control that a clean fifty-metre-wide hole was created below, leading all the way down…

…to the holding area for the prisoners of the dwarves.

The dwarven commander, a Grandmaster wearing armor which bore the standard runic enchantments of their kind, rushed towards Orodan, only to be slapped and sent flying a few miles away. The other dwarves froze at the casual display of might, and Orodan hopped down the hole he’d skillfully created.

The descent was a few miles deep, and he landed with a boom which kicked up dust. And all around him, plenty of frightened and desperate pairs of eyes, all of them chained to strange devices which forced their souls to churn at high speeds for the sake of power generation. All for the sake of fuelling the energy needs of the under-mountain confederation.

Sickening.

Orodan’s own Incipience of Infinity, even when it was simply the Eternal Soul Reactor, functioned on a similar principle. The forced churning of the soul in order to produce more power at a higher rate. It was painful, agonizing, and yet Orodan had taken that path in order to acquire strength.

The difference though, was that he’d had a choice. These poor people did not.

“S-sunlight… is that what it looks like?” a drow weakly muttered. “How long has it been?”

Orodan’s fist clenched in righteous anger. He’d not let it stand the last time, and he certainly wouldn’t let it stand now either. He wasn’t the sort to forget about the little things no matter how strong he became. If he forgot about the smaller debts he had or the minor injustices he’d observed, what kind of man was he?

The Domain of Perfect Cleaning shot out, and the very chains torturous devices around the captives were targeted as being filth which could not be allowed. Destroyed instantly. Simultaneously, he looked deeper than just the shackles binding them, and down to their very souls.

Orcs, goblins, drow, dragons and even the occasional human and elf… these captives all had varying levels of damage to their souls. The damage wasn’t only the direct sort acquired from being forced to churn, but the subtle sort too. After all, negative emotions such as fear, despair, agony and loss could warp a soul over time.

Orodan looked deeply at each and every captive’s soul.

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What was cleaning?

Cleaning was the act of removing that which was foul, dirty. But it depended on the perspective of the user.

Orodan wasn’t perfect. He’d made mistakes he wasn’t proud of, warping the minds of Agathor and Ilyatana and purifying a True Vampire of its vampirism, essentially defiling them. He would not do such a thing again.

And throughout his travels, he’d learned that sometimes cleaning involved maintaining the natural order of things.

These tortured captives had an overabundance of negative emotions which had warped their souls, yes. But not everyone would want these emotions, or the associated memories purged. For some, such memories were a part of their strength. And Orodan would not rob them of their agency by stripping a part of themselves.

Despite the lack of System, his Celestial skills worked just fine. So, with narrowed eyes, Orodan focused and targeted the souls of these innocent captives. Not to purge the memories or the negative emotions…

…but to instead strengthen their tolerance towards them.

Sometimes, cleaning involved not just the removal of the unwanted… but the addition of necessary things.

His body burned as he channelled a monstrous amount of soul energy towards cleaning. Every bit of his being was focused on it… the act of cleaning, bringing things to order… making it right.

Around him, the fabric of existence began to ripple. Normally, altering the soul of another being was supposed to be more difficult, yet it felt deceptively easy for Orodan who imposed his vision upon reality itself.

With a final flex of might and his natural intuition for cleaning…

…the souls of the tortured were bolstered and strengthened.

“My mind… it feels so unburdened…”

“The weight of time and its sorrows is lessened. How?” a captive dragon asked.

“The sting of grief… of anguish, it does not bite quite so deeply any longer. What have you done?” an old orc asked.

Orodan looked at his own hands. They looked the same as they always did. Yet within them, lay a power which carried a heavy responsibility.

Once upon a time, he’d gone astray and used this power for ill. In a manner which stained his honor. Yet now, he’d used it for good, in a way his honor would be satisfied with.

To clean was not just to remove the undesirable. That would be taking the option out of these people’s hands. Sometimes, cleaning also involved fixing, healing. Bolstering, and giving people the resilience and perspective to face their own burden.

All Orodan had done was strengthen the minds and souls of the dwarves’ victims.

And in doing so, felt one step closer to understanding the meaning of cleaning.

“Intruder! You dare break into the deepest parts of our hold?!” the commander of a reaction force bellowed. “Who are you to dare free our prisoners of war?!”

Orodan dared to do a lot more than just free some prisoners.

And these dwarves wouldn’t like what that entailed.

#

“Honored savior, though my memory is quite old, and the tunnels have changed in the past fifteen years, I believe we are approaching the territory line of my people.”

The drow was older, and her time in captivity had done her no favors. Her silvery hair and purple skin hadn’t yet taken on any wrinkles though. And she had a resilience to her eyes, all of the folk Orodan had rescued now did.

The beating he’d dispensed upon the responding dwarves had been nothing short of brutal and vicious.

Thavri Grimbreaker and any dwarves of power who knew about the atrocities were slain without hesitation. The dwarven ancestor who’d once given him much trouble simply gaped as Orodan’s fist ripped right through his armor and out the other side. The enchanted plate not holding up against his raw might.

The remaining dwarves swiftly surrendered afterwards, and no Avatar of Varkir descended to try and intervene either. Though, Orodan left those who didn’t know of the atrocities alone.

The captive dragons agreed to fly a number of humans, orcs and elves who wished to flee out of the mountain, and Orodan was sure that a very angry Burning Ember dragon flight would be knocking on the doors to the under-mountain confederation shortly afterwards.

The drow, a majority of the orcs and remaining humans though, had simply wanted to return to the territory of the dark elves under the mountain. Hence, Orodan was now escorting them.

“Right, if I recall, this large bridge with an underground waterfall should mark where the territory line between your people and the dwarves is,” Orodan said, thinking of the long loop in Novarria where they’d met the Avatars of the elves. “Though, honored saviour is a bit much, just Orodan is fine.

“You have been here before?” the drow woman asked.

“Long ago. And the circumstances were a bit more tense then,” Orodan answered. Hopefully he could avoid antagonizing the elves overly much this loop. He had a lot of things he sought to learn from them.

The few monsters that presented themselves in the hopes of preying upon the group were swiftly slain by Orodan’s hand, and the journey continued without incident.

The under-mountain caverns of the Dokuhan Mountains were long, expansive and at times winding. Glowing mushrooms and the occasional cluster of crystals at times illuminated the way, yet sometimes there was no light to guide them. Orodan hadn’t really explored the drow side of the under-mountain before, though he needed no illumination to see and make his way around. Even if he had, the drow among the group were all perfectly capable of seeing in the dark, an adaptation developed over thousands of years of living beneath the ground.

“How did you do it?” the drow asked.

“Beating the dwarves? Or cleansing your souls?” Orodan asked.

“If it is not too presumptuous to ask… both.”

“A time loop,” Orodan bluntly said. “Strength earned through much hard toil and many gruelling deaths.”

“Incredible…” the drow muttered. “How much power would one need to enact a time loop of planetary scale?”

“A lot. More than any God of Time upon Alastaia could provide,” Orodan answered. Though the scale of the time loop he was in went beyond even System space and encompassed the entirety of the greater universe.

Frankly, who knew what monstrous existences had detected it and were on their way to slaughter him as he spoke? He had only seen one other Boundless One, and that was the being responsible for the shards. The greater universe seemed like a large place though, and in his brief foray outside, he’d seen no apparent end to it.

“You… have seen other worlds then?” the drow asked.

“Aye. Some are quite different to ours, though a few are similar enough,” Orodan answered and then looked at her. “You seem rather receptive to my words. Most simply dismiss my claims as nonsense or are too preoccupied with fighting me.”

“When you reach the age I have, learning to read between the lines and detect when someone speaks the truth is a necessary skill. The way you carry yourself says a lot about you, and your manner is an honest one,” she answered. “I do not believe you could lie even if you wanted to. Simply from watching you, I can infer a number of things.”

“Oh? Now that’s quite interesting. Please elaborate.”

“Right from the beginning, your entry was explosive… direct. You simply barrelled an entryway into our place of captivity with nothing else but brute force. This lines up with your simple and direct manner of speech,” she explained. “As for the way you speak… curt and honest; though not disrespectful. Which tells me you come from humble beginnings… not a farmer… definitely not a scholar or noble, form’s far too robust for that… a soldier of some sort?”

“I see no point to antagonizing anyone unless they’ve earned it,” Orodan replied. “And you’re right about me being a soldier of some sort.”

A county militia man in fact.

“You walk straight, with the sure steps and the confidence of one who is used to fighting their way out of an ambush rather than worrying about falling into one in the first place. Your weapons, while close at hand, aren’t ready to be drawn out of panicked necessity. Whether your armaments are near your hands or not, you seem… comfortable. Which tells me that your unarmed capabilities are just as deadly,” the dark elf woman said. “A warrior then. Sword, shield and halberd. Quite the classical combination… very conventional, though there’s nothing wrong with that.”

“The fancier weapons have their place I’m sure, but in mastering the basics one can truly transcend them,” Orodan replied. “Much like you seem to have mastered the art of reading people. You must be quite the valued and ancient wise woman back home.”

“I will thank you not to remind me of my age,” she said with a frown, causing Orodan to smile. “And I used to be the negotiator for Clan Mezzer.”

“Mezzer? Like Jegdalo Mezzer?”

“You know of that boy?” the older woman asked. “Ah, of course. If I had any doubts as to your time looping claims, they’ve been put to rest now.”

Orodan chuckled.

“So, you didn’t actually believe me then.”

“I believed that you believed what you claimed. Whether it’s true has yet to be proven, though it’s seeming more and more likely as we speak,” the Mezzer said with a smile of her own. “Though, I suppose not too many humans I know can simply punch through a suit of Grandmaster-level dothril inscribed by a runic enchanter of similar skill.”

She referred to his slaying of Thavri Grimbreaker of course.

“Runic enchanter? You mean the runic language of the dwarves?” Orodan asked. “You know of it?”

“Know of it? I plied the trade quite well in my earlier years,” she replied. “And calling it the dwarven runic language is a bit presumptuous, isn’t it? We drow know how to work with the language quite well too. A strong reason for why those smelly, bearded fools wish to exterminate us.”

Huh? He hadn’t even known that the drow were capable of such things. Little wonder that the dwarves saw them as rivals upon Alastaia.

“If you don’t mind then… might I trouble you to teach me sometime?” Orodan asked.

“It would be my pleasure, Orodan Wainwright,” she replied, an airy smile on her face. “And would you look at that, we near Xan’Coran. Our journey has concluded and without any of our number being prey for the many beasts which roam the under-mountain. Thanks to the might of your arm of course.”

Their journey had taken them through a number of caverns, though, at last they’d stumbled upon a drow military outpost. The bloody war between the drow and the dwarves wasn’t a level playing field. The drow could not take the dwarves head on without costly losses, as a result, while the dwarven side had plenty of front-line military fortifications and entrenched positions, the drow had far fewer.

Furthermore, Xan’Coran, the city of the drow beneath the Dokuhan Mountains, wasn’t accessible without jumping through many hurdles. The very caverns winded and shifted about, and much of the local wildlife began displaying an uncharacteristic hostility towards any non-drow the closer they got to the city’s general location.

Orodan of course spotted the city easily enough with Vision of Purity. In fact, he suspected that the dwarves also knew where it was, but it looked difficult for them to assault without severe casualties of their own. Better for them to drag out a war of attrition where they’d be the eventual victors as the dwarven front line slowly expanded.

A horn sounded from the top of the watchtower, and a group of armed and armored drow came forth. They wielded rapiers, crossbows and short swords. With none among their number utilizing any polearms or heavier weapons that he could see. There were a few mages at the back ranks as well. Altogether, the outpost seemed well-crewed with a unit of trained warriors ready to fight.

They also had humans among their ranks, though Orodan could sniff the vampirism easily enough. Rumors of the drow harboring vampires weren’t false then.

“Hold and introduce your… yourselves… b-by Cithrel! Is that Elder Xalyth?” the leading soldier asked, bewildered.

“It’s her… it’s her! Open the gates! We must arrange an escort to Xan’Coran! The clans must be informed!”

The soldiers quickly formed a protective perimeter and brought them inside the outpost. All while the commander of the outpost began making some hasty calls with a communications amulet. Many of the drow and even the human vampires were staring at Xalyth Mezzer in disbelief. One of them even dared to approach.

“Elder… is it truly you? We thought you lost after that horrid incident fifteen years ago from whence you never returned,” the drow officer said. “What happened?”

“Those foul rock-sniffers are to blame for imprisoning me upon the refusal to a peace treaty,” Xalyth spat.

“Damn the dwarves! Still, I see you here safe and alongside many other of our kin who were taken prisoner. What happened? The forward scouts and our network report the sounds of battle and the city of Var Turum being on high alert,” the drow said. “Yet, we know not what has occurred.”

“For that turn of events, you may thank this man,” Xalyth said, pointing towards Orodan.

And suddenly, the eyes of everyone within the outpost pointed his way.

“Well, we can discuss the particulars once we’re within Xan’Coran, can we not?”

#

Xan’Coran.

Ancestral city of the drow beneath the Dokuhan Mountains. It was grand, sprawling for dozens of miles and multiple massive caverns were linked together in order to allow it to be so.

The architecture of the drow was rather nefarious and diabolical, in terms of aesthetic at least. Dark stone, dark tiled roads, and the flames were of a purple-bent. Frankly, Orodan would’ve thought them secret worshipers of the Eldritch if he didn’t know any better.

It was a city full of life though. And unlife. Drow, humans, orcs and vampires lived in harmony within its bounds. An alliance of necessity and mutual hatred of the under-mountain confederation of the dwarves and their human suppliers. Elves could also be seen here and there, likely affiliated with Eldiron itself.

Of note too, was the fact that small and large spider dragons occasionally skittered about the walls of the caverns. Dragons hunted these creatures viciously upon the surface, but the drow had gladly allied themselves with them, their underground habitat lending well to providing harbor for these grotesque half-dragon creatures. It was a mutually beneficial arrangement, as the spider dragons received shelter and access to a civilization which would tend to their needs, and the drow in turn were guarded by them. A particularly massive one hung from the ceiling of the central cavern, overlooking the entirety of Xan’Coran. It was the size of a mountain and Orodan sensed it rivalled the power of a quadruple-Grandmaster.

Currently, he was seated in a tower overlooking the city himself. Before him, a number of powerful nobles and politicians of the drow.

“We’re continuing to receive reports from our spies and scouts which corroborate his story,” a drow noble said. “That and the return of Elder Xalyth who also vouches for him…”

“Xan’Coran… nay… all of drow-kind, owe you a great debt, Orodan Wainwright,” another councillor said. “Our enemies are in shambles, the most powerful among them slain. And many of our loved ones are finally returned to us, healed of their ailments. What may we do to repay this debt?”

“For starters, I need passage to Eldiron,” Orodan said, and before one noblewoman could ask why on Alastaia he needed passage anywhere with his level of power, he continued. “Peaceful passage. I suspect the three Gods of elvenkind will not take it well if I simply barge onto their continent.”

And while the situation with his soul and its untraceable nature meant he could likely enter with some sort of stealth, he needed to actually act openly if he intended to learn.

“I see… that is… something out of our hands,” Elder Xalyth Mezzer said. “It’s not that we don’t want to help you, but that your might is too great. If we were to smuggle you onto Eldiron, the God-Queen would descend upon our heads with fury for allowing one of such power onto her continent unchecked. What we can do, is arrange for a meeting between you and the elven divinities. What is the purpose of your visit?”

“Learning. I have a goal that requires me to understand the various enchanting languages,” Orodan explained. “I’ve got a good grasp of the human enchanting language. And now, I need to understand runic enchanting. On the side, I also need to study various skills.”

“As I promised, we can definitely assist with any studies in runic enchanting,” Elder Xalyth declared. “Though, Goldleaf in Eldiron would likely be the best location to access a wealth of knowledge on the subject. I shall send a message to a friend of mine, and he’ll be coming forth to meet with you.”

“Fair enough. In the meanwhile, mind if I get to studying?”

#

“What the hells… this is utterly profound…” Orodan muttered.

His concentration was buried deep into the intricate pattern of webs before him.

Dark elves and dwarves both used the same runic enchanting language, though, they did so in different ways. Dwarves used runic enchanting in a conventional manner. Magic chisel to material, the standard way. The drow though, also did it in this manner, but with the caveat that they also used the silken webs of spider dragons to pre-fabricate an enchantment, study its effects and then consider the application of it.

At first, Orodan thought it was a unique method of studying the language itself and nothing more.

And then he’d learned that the drow not only studied enchantments by weaving them with spider dragon silk, but also wove actual runic enchantments using the silk and the webs were then forged into the material.

What was so special about using spider silk?

The fact that the silk of spider dragons was tied to their soul. If one were to examine the silk, the story of a spider dragon’s life, their history, their struggles… it could all be revealed. The silk as a material, wasn’t simply static… it told a story.

One of…

“…time. An enchantment which is not only three-dimensional, but also touches upon the fourth dimension, that of time. Utterly profound… to think I’d uncover such a secret on Alastaia…” Orodan muttered to himself as he was enraptured.

It was humbling. One could never rule out from where a profound secret might come. Yes, he was far stronger than anything on Alastaia, but that didn’t mean his knowledge was beyond it. One could still learn incredible things from paths already trodden.

“Now you see why our method of enchantment is so different? I will admit, the dwarves are excellent at the application of runic enchanting, but they’ll never comprehend the actual language the same way we do,” Elder Xalyth said. “Not when they refuse to look beyond their conventional methods. Which dwarf would sully themselves by working with a spider dragon?”

Spider dragon silk was tied to the soul of the creature that produced it. When initially produced, the material was aspected, attuned to its producer, and not really useful for crafting and in fact interfered with enchantments as the spider dragon’s memories and experiences caused disharmony. Though, with time and the careful application of many expensive rituals, this spider dragon silk could be wiped clean, it could be made to ‘forget’ its owner and become unaspected.

This unaspected spider dragon silk was an incredibly valuable material which was critical in the crafting process for some of the most powerful weapons of the drow.

For Orodan, it wasn’t the silk itself which drew his attention, but the fact that an enchanting medium could be not just three-dimensional, but four-dimensional. And potentially…

…something which might give him inspiration to complete the grand ambition which had been forming in his mind for a while now.

“I see it. Coming here has been the best decision I’ve made this loop,” Orodan said. “Studying runic enchanting the conventional way might have taken too long. With this critical bit of knowledge, the fact that such a thing is possible… it gives me hope.”

“I still have a hard time believing your System is destroyed… what an outlandish tale you’ve regaled me with,” Elder Xalyth said. “Claiming to be in a time loop is one thing. Telling me your System is gone is another.”

“It’s the truth. Whether you believe it or not,” Orodan said. “In any case, I owe you for this.”

“Consider it repayment for your rescue of me,” the elder drow said. “And your unfathomable and illogical talent in cleaning for which we have enough silk to last our enchanters a few centuries. Frankly, the council may try to persuade you to stay if you’re routinely capable of such things.”

Spider dragon silk was turned from aspected to the valuable unaspected form through magical rituals of great expense. And Orodan could simply turn it unaspected by cleaning the memories and experiences right out of it. A powerful application of his Celestial skill which was quite lucrative. He’d created a few thousand pounds worth of unaspected spider silk and would likely cause economic chaos in that particular industry. Not that he needed the money of course.

“If you say so,” Orodan said. “Unfortunately, my goals dictate that I must make for Eldiron.”

“Given how your actions have put many of them out of a job, the spider silk manufacturers will be pleased to hear it,” the elder said. “Now then, let us look deeper into this web. If you look here… the flows often focus on significant memories, a natural imperfection in the spider silk. The higher the quality, the more even the flows no matter how significant the memory, and to counter that…”

They discussed, Orodan studied, and he asked questions all while getting a grasp for runic enchanting. Elder Xalyth scratched her head and expressed her shock at how Orodan managed to make a three-dimensional enchantment using human enchanting language. And while the enchantment itself wasn’t anything special, the proof of concept baffled her and had the drow insisting that he remain in Xan’Coran.

He was forced to refuse of course.

“I cannot,” Orodan said.

“But… but…! To do such a thing with so primitive a language!” she exclaimed. “Nations would wage war over your talents if they found out!”

“Then it’s a good thing I’m at a point where nations cannot threaten me,” Orodan said. “In any case, it’s not revolutionary. I simply had an advantage that no other enchanter did. I had the gift of failure. I was allowed to fail over and over, the wall which the System removes through the granting of skill levels… I never could overcome it through raw repetition. With this wall before me indefinitely, I could study, meditate and train on ways to surmount it for as long as needed.”

“…I see. I believe I am beginning to believe your claim about not having a System any longer,” elder Xalyth professed. “Now then, show me that enchantment of yours one mo-”

The door to the enchanters’ study opened, and a drow messenger walked in.

“I believe I said we were not to be interrupted,” elder Xalyth said sternly. “Unless you bring news.”

“I do, elder,” the messenger said nervously. “One of the four have arrived to meet with Orodan Wainwright.”

“Hmm, very well,” she said. “I suppose this can continue later on. Depending on how your conversation goes, I shall see you either here, or in Eldiron, Orodan.”

“Eldiron?” Orodan asked. “Doesn’t an ancient woman like yourself have duties here?”

“Again with the comments on my age…” she muttered with an annoyed frown. “You’ll find that us drow age rather gracefully. And nothing precludes me from spending my time upon Eldiron. I’m not a councillor, and my clan will doubtlessly grant me a well-earned rest after my ordeal.”

“Fair enough, but you needn’t travel so far just to teach me… I’m sure there are plenty of instructors upon Eldiron as well,” Orodan said.

“For all you’ve done for us, and for your rescue of me, it’s the least I could do,” the woman said, a smile on her face.

Well, if she wanted to help, who was Orodan to refuse? The study of the spider dragon silk and the runic enchanting language was definitely an important stepping stone towards his main goal. Still, a bit strange for her to offer to come along when Goldleaf likely had many tutors and Grandmasters of enchanting.

His soul also thrummed a bit weirdly and he looked inward to where Zaessythra was sleeping. Perhaps she was kicking about in her sleep?

In any case, he didn’t have the time to dwell on such things, and Orodan accompanied elder Xalyth and the messenger to the council chambers.

The doors swung open, and Orodan wondered just which member of the elven pantheon had come.

The matter was answered when he saw a familiar elf, a friendly smile upon his face. A man who was on the verge of triggering the trial of ascendance.

Eldarion, the elven God of Friendship.

#

“This tea is quite good…”

“It’s a small sample of what the elven continent has to offer. As a matter of fact, this small settlement, Ildisiar, is where the tea leaf is grown and harvested.”

Now where had he heard this before?

The tea was quite good, with a sharp flavor of the forest as though the flowers and berries were coming alive on his tongue. Still, it wasn’t anything ground-breaking, and he’d sampled the Inuanan Auslivik leaf tea as well, and the comparison was closer than he’d have thought.

Where was he?

Eldiron of course.

From Orodan’s vantage point, high atop a tree as tall as a mountain, he had an excellent view of the coast and the surrounding lush forest which was almost unnaturally green. The leaves were the color of emeralds, the rivers flowing out to the coastline were the color of sapphires and the very winds carried a beautiful song upon them.

He sensed an extreme abundance of world energy all around.

They were on Eldiron, specifically, within a small settlement which couldn’t even be called a village. Perhaps a hamlet? Either way, Ildisiar was the name of the settlement, and the only people who lived here were tea-makers, ancient masters and Eldarion himself, an elf on the cusp of pushing past level 100 in a skill.

“I’ve had this tea before,” Orodan said. “Though, it was with the headmaster of Woodworking, and it was at Bluefire.”

“Osolon Velrayn has a penchant for attempting to impress people with trinkets and goods from his homeland,” Eldarion said, a casual smile upon his face which had Orodan feeling at ease. “To think you’ve met him and so many others before in these time loops of yours…”

He had to remind himself, that prior to his departure for the cosmos, this elf gave off the most dangerous instinctual feeling he’d ever gotten from someone save the Void Horror and Eldritch Avatar. Still, Orodan had resisted the Celestial Emperor, a peak-Transcendent with a Celestial skill. Eldarion, while impressive, just didn’t compare any longer. Though, Orodan would consider the elf’s overall power level with the social skill to be at least early-Transcendent level if Eldarion acted seriously.

“I will say, I don’t get to meet people under the same circumstances every time,” Orodan explained. “The last two times we met were under tense circumstances where we were both acting as mutual displays of power for our respective factions. I’m glad to see it’s different this time.”

“If you’ll pardon me, Mister Wainwright… is it really any different?” Eldarion asked. “Here I am, the mightiest of the elves of Eldiron, sitting before you, the mightiest human I’ve ever seen. The decision to send me for this meeting was no doubt intentional, and the very existence of someone like you who could simply destroy Alastaia is threat enough by itself.”

“Heh… I suppose you’re not wrong. Which makes it three for three. I suppose we’re fated to meet this way no matter what,” Orodan joked. “Though, I’ve broken fate a fair few times.”

“That you have. Every single scan we’ve attempted gives us nothing, and your presence in the tapestry of fate is blank,” Eldarion said. “If you hadn’t told me about the circumstances you find yourself in, I don’t know if this conversation would be as casual as it is, my friend.”

“All it took for you to feel at ease was the honest truth?” Orodan asked. “I thought the security of Eldiron would be taken a bit more seriously than that.”

“You’re not wrong. In fact, Cithrel will doubtlessly be working at a furious pace to prepare safeguards and contingencies in case you decide to act against us,” Eldarion explained.

“Then why… are you accepting this all so casually?” Orodan asked.

“Because… in you… I have the chance to achieve Transcendence,” Eldarion said, a grim look on his face. “And…”

“…the opportunity to escape my wife.”

Orodan stared at Eldarion.

Eldarion stared at Orodan.

“…”

“Now… no need to give me that look,” Eldarion said. “I assure you, she’s a real terror.”

Orodan’s palm met his face, and a sigh left his lips.

“If by terror you mean a woman who leaves her spouse exhausted and happy, then perhaps more folk could stand to have terrors in their lives.”

“I’m clearly not built for such exhaustive physical pursuits like you are, my friend.”

Eldarion smiled.

Orodan’s mouth curved upwards… and a bout of laughter was shared between the two of them.

He wasn’t stupid. He knew there was the possibility of the social skill.

“Jokes aside, I’m just surprised you let me onto Eldiron without any fuss,” Orodan said. “I only told you of the time loops after we came here for our discussion. While this settlement has a rather sparse population, surely letting me onto Eldiron can’t be wise?”

“Of course not. But despite the Novarrians’ attempts at matching us, it remains clear that our intelligence network is the greatest upon Alastaia. Our eyes and ears are competent at their jobs, and they report many things,” the elven man said. “The disabling of the ancient machine in the Republic, the shattering of our psionic web in Inuan which gave Athandelu a real scare and of course… the clash which occurred in Jerestir near the Imperial border with the Republic where Novarrian forces were bested and the Eldritch crown of Balastion Novar was destroyed. We have been keeping tabs on all these happenings and tying you to them isn’t difficult when you act so openly.”

“So, you’ve been aware of me for a long time, which doesn’t surprise me,” Orodan said. “Why allow me onto your continent then?”

“Because Orodan… those accolades also came with accounts of your capabilities,” Eldarion said. “The shattering of Arkwall’s anti-spatiomancy wards and the assault upon Var Turum where Thavri Grimbreaker was slain in a singular strike do not escape my ears. Cithrel will doubtlessly be angered at me for this… but powerful as we are, as many countermeasures and contingencies as we have… we lack the means to meaningfully contest the likes of you.”

“And so, you allow me onto Eldiron? For what?” Orodan asked.

And in response, Eldarion rose to his feet…

…and a hand was extended.

“Friendship.”

The elf was the bearer of a powerful social skill. One that could influence the thoughts of many, and even Orodan had to get truly serious in the past when facing it for the first time in the loops.

Yet, what cemented Orodan’s decision…

…was the absence of said skill altogether throughout the entirety of the conversation.

Orodan’s hand met Eldarion’s, and the two shook.

What was the point of strength if one couldn’t trust an honest outreach of friendship? If someone betrayed him, he would simply exact revenge. If someone spurned him, he would simply spurn them in turn. And if someone offered friendship?

Orodan would take it without hesitation. To act in a straightforward manner was his path. The way of a warrior.

“I can abide by that,” Orodan said. “Many of the things I’ve achieved were only thanks to people helping me. Teachers, allies… friends.”

There was more than a bit of pain involved in saying that last word, but such was his lot. To experience bonds of companionship, and then to lose it all. However, he would be spitting on the people who’d sacrificed themselves for him if that prevented him from making new friends and living life to the fullest.

“In five months’ time, the Eldritch Avatar descends. Working together, we can best it, and in working with us, we can help you take the steps necessary to rebuilding your System, and from there… for you to best the apocalyptic foes before you,” Eldarion said. “Administrators, this Boundless One… I have no idea where to even begin and regret to say that those battles might well be your own. Though… what we can help you with, you’ll carry well into those fights.”

“Useful skills, esoteric knowledge… and the ability to fix my System,” Orodan said. “Alongside whatever else I might learn.”

“Indeed,” Eldarion said. “And as long as you’re in a time loop, you’ll continue to return and ensure the best possible outcome, won’t you? In helping you, I’ve committed myself to seeing you succeed and in return you’ll help us.”

Eldiron and Goldleaf Academy awaited. And beyond that, in five months, the descent of the Eldritch Avatar and hopefully…

…the restoration of his System.

And with it, a mad goal… and it only grew more concrete as he continued pondering upon it.

The unvoiced grand ambition which Orodan had in regard to his System restoration.

The desire to see it realized burned strongly within his heart.