No time to hold back," Wei muttered. He jumped back,
gripping his sword tightly.
"I think this might be overkill... but I really like this
technique."
"Torrent Slash!" Wei roared.
An enormous arc of boiling, glowing water burst from Wei's
blade as he slashed through the air. The wave surged forward, knocking back the
Bogstalkers and cutting through trees and tall grasses in its path—scorching
everything with steam and force.
The trees in the part of the marsh where Torrent Slash
passed had been completely cleared. Steam still rose from the scorched earth,
and the eerie silence returned. No more Bogstalkers emerged after that—whatever
remained had either been obliterated or fled.
Wei stood still, his blade lowered slightly, catching his
breath.
Then—he felt it.
A presence.
A surge of energy, subtle but distinct, pressing against his
senses like a sudden shift in the wind. It wasn't hostile, but it was powerful…
ancient.
Wei turned sharply toward the source, his eyes narrowing.
A faint shimmer appeared through the mist—like a ripple in
glass. As the haze parted, a figure began to emerge from the trees beyond.
.
"You've drawn quite the welcome party," the man said calmly.
Wei lowered his sword, wary. "You Ashveil?"
The figure nodded slowly. "I am. And if you're here… then
you're ready to defy the divine."
Wei kept his sword loose in hand, not quite lowered. "I
didn't come here for cryptic riddles. I need to know how to break the goddess's
hold on this world. I was told you could help."
Ashveil tilted his head, the faint light from his sigils
pulsing like a slow heartbeat. "Who told you that? The merchant?"
Wei nodded.
Ashveil chuckled softly. "That snake survives by telling
half-truths. But… yes. I once served her. Long ago. Before I saw the truth
beneath her miracles."
Wei stepped closer. "Then tell me. What is she hiding? What
is the Veil?"
Ashveil raised a hand, and the mist around them began to
swirl. A faint illusion took form in the air—an enormous dome of translucent
light covering the sky, far above the known world. Within it, the goddess sat
upon a throne of stars, and around her, countless threads stretched down like
chains, binding the land below.
"The Veil," Ashveil said, "is not protection. It is a leash.
A prison wrapped in illusion. She controls magic, time, and fate beneath it. No
one leaves unless she allows it—and she only allows those who serve her
designs."
Wei's eyes narrowed. "Then the teleportation scroll…"
"It's not real," Ashveil replied. "Not truly. The scroll is
a fragment of her will. Even if you use it, you're only trading one chain for
another."
Wei's voice was sharp. "So what? I'm stuck? There's no way
to return to my world without kissing her feet?"
Ashveil stepped forward. "There is one way. A crack in the
Veil. Ancient, hidden… dangerous. But real. The goddess sealed it long ago, and
only a being with power equal to hers—or someone who understands the rhythm of
her magic—can open it again."
Wei lifted the Veilstone from his pouch. "Then this is the
key?"
Ashveil's eyes flared faintly under his hood. "That stone…
where did you get it?"
Wei smirked. "Stole it. Well, earned it. From the merchant."
Ashveil's expression turned grim. "That's not just a key.
It's a map, encoded in divine glyphs. With my help, you can read it. But once
you do—there's no turning back."
Wei sheathed his sword. "Then let's start. I didn't come
this far just to be told it's impossible."
Ashveil nodded. "Very well. But be warned: the goddess will
feel it the moment the seal begins to crack. And she will send everything at
her disposal to stop you."
Wei looked up at the swirling fog above. "Let her try."
Ashveil led Wei deeper into the marsh, to a sunken shrine
swallowed by twisted roots and luminous moss. The air shimmered unnaturally
around it, as if time itself were hesitant to pass through.
"This is one of the few places left untouched by her sight,"
Ashveil murmured. "Here, we can safely unravel the truth."
They entered the shrine. Inside, ancient stone walls were
etched with runes long since forgotten by most of the world. Ashveil knelt at
the central altar and motioned for Wei to place the Veilstone upon it.
As the Veilstone touched the altar, a pulse of energy surged
through the chamber—soft blue at first, then deepening into violet. The runes
along the walls began to glow and shift, rearranging themselves as if waking
from centuries of slumber.
Ashveil's hands hovered over the stone. "The glyphs are
alive. They're hiding coordinates… instructions encoded with celestial
language. It's a spell, a pathway… no, a ritual."
Wei stepped closer, eyes narrowed. "A ritual to what?"
"To shatter a lock hidden within the Veil," Ashveil replied.
"Not destroy it entirely… but weaken it long enough to open the Rift. The
exit."
He tapped the Veilstone once more. A diagram of
constellations unfolded midair—twisting, rotating, aligning.
"There," Ashveil pointed. "The Rift. It exists at the
convergence of three ley lines. One of them runs through the old ruins of
Cindros. Another beneath the Everfrost Peaks. The third…" he paused, eyes
darkening, "deep below the goddess's sanctuary itself."
Wei stared at the constellation map. "So I need to go to all
three?"
"You must awaken all three points with fragments of the
Veilstone's power. Each time you do, she'll feel it. Her eyes will turn toward
you. Her servants will hunt you."
"Then I better get stronger. Fast."
Ashveil looked at him for a long moment. "You remind me of
someone I once knew… before faith twisted them beyond saving."
Wei lifted the Veilstone and tucked it into his cloak.
"Let's make sure I don't end up the same."
Ashveil rose. "Then your path is set. Your first destination
lies east—Cindros. But beware… something ancient guards the ruin. And it
doesn't take kindly to intruders."
Before Wei could leave the shrine, Ashveil raised a hand.
"Wait. If you intend to face what sleeps in Cindros, you'll need more than
brute strength and raw mana. You need precision… control."
He turned to an ancient stone pedestal covered in moss. With
a whisper in a forgotten tongue, Ashveil ignited a glyph beneath it, revealing
a scroll pulsing with faint indigo light. He handed it to Wei.
"This is Veilstep. A forgotten technique once used by high
mages of the goddess's court. It allows you to slip between the folds of
reality for a split second—just enough to dodge, phase through attacks, or even
reposition behind your enemy. But be warned—overuse can tear at your essence."
Wei unrolled the scroll, and its glyphs shimmered, then
vanished into his skin.
His breath caught. "I felt that… like ice threading through
my veins."
Ashveil nodded. "That's the arcane imprint bonding with your
mana flow. It's not a spell you cast. It's a reflex. A whisper between worlds.
Try it."
Wei took a breath, focused, and in an instant—flash!—he
disappeared from sight, reappearing behind Ashveil, the wind swirling in his
place.
He blinked. "That felt… insane."
"Master it," Ashveil said with a sly grin. "And even the
goddess's blades won't know where to strike."
Wei grinned back. "Now we're talking."
Ashveil guided Wei deeper into the shrine. The walls
shimmered with ethereal light, revealing murals hidden beneath centuries of
moss and grime—depictions of a time before the goddess's reign.
"They don't teach this anymore," Ashveil said, gesturing to
the ancient art. "Before the goddess claimed dominion, the world was guarded by
the Veilkeepers—mages who balanced the ley lines and kept the worlds from
collapsing into each other. But she grew fearful of their knowledge... and
erased them."
Wei studied the mural. One figure held a blade of light and
shadow, standing between a portal and a crumbling sky. "Who is that?"
"That was the First Keeper. He wielded the technique I'm
about to give you: Phase Sever."
Ashveil reached into a carved alcove and pulled out a
crystal-bound book. It hovered between his hands, vibrating with restrained
force.
"Phase Sever allows you to cut through magical constructs,
illusions, and even bindings of fate itself. It doesn't just slice matter—it
severs intentions, curses, even parts of memory. But it demands balance. Too
much aggression, and it unravels your mind. Too much hesitation, and it fails."
He placed the tome before Wei.
"This is ancient magic. Forbidden. And you'll need to carve
its runes into your own essence—through mana scars."
Wei raised a brow. "So… literal self-engraving?"
Ashveil nodded. "With pain comes permanence."
Wei rolled up his sleeve. "Alright, let's burn it in."
---
Later, as the moon rose high over the marsh…
Wei sat in silence, a newly carved rune glowing faintly on
his forearm. He could feel it already—a subtle tension in the world, like
threads waiting to be sliced with a single thought.
"I feel it," he whispered. "Like I'm holding a blade, even
when I'm not."
Ashveil smiled. "Good. Because when you step into the
goddess's domain… that feeling will be the only edge between life and
oblivion."
Deadroot Marsh, just before dawn.
Mist slithered between the trees as Wei tightened the straps
on his gear. The glow from the Veilstone pulsed gently from the pouch at his
side, and the mana-scar on his forearm still burned faintly with power.
Ashveil approached, handing over a scroll sealed with silver
wax. "This will guide you through the marsh's barrier. But once you're out,
you're on your own. The path to Cindros isn't marked—it shifts. Alive, in a
way. The land remembers blood and war."
"You've given me
special skills, shared secrets, and scars. Why aren't you coming with me?"
Ashveil's eyes darkened. "Because the last time I set foot
near Cindros… I barely escaped with my soul. Something still lingers there. Not
just relics. Regret. Rage. And something that answers to neither gods nor
mortals."
"You know," Wei said with a faint smile, "this might sound
strange—or maybe not—but after everything you've done for me, I think it's
better if I focus on getting stronger… and gathering an army for the rebellion.
Those rifts… they don't feel like just places of physical trial. It's like I'll
be fighting with my mind and soul too."
Ashveil studied Wei for a long moment, the glow of the
marshlight flickering across the edges of his hood.
"Spoken like someone who's finally beginning to
understand," he said softly. "The path of power isn't just measured in
strength or numbers. It's in how much of yourself you're willing to lose… and
how much you're willing to protect."
He stepped forward, placing a hand over Wei's chest.
"If you choose rebellion, choose it not just with fire—but
with purpose. Because when the gods notice you… they won't just test your
sword. They'll test your spirit."
Ashveil turned his gaze toward the distance, toward the
unseen battle ahead.
"And when that moment comes, don't look for me. Look for the
truth inside you. That's where the real war is won."
"I just hope the other gods in Birigan no longer
intervene in my rebellion," Wei said.
"They will. Sooner or later, they always do. Gods don't
fear mortals… until mortals start moving like storms. And you, Wei—you're no
longer a ripple. You're becoming a tide."
He turned, the firelight flickering against his scarred
face.
"If you're serious about this rebellion, you won't just
need power. You'll need purpose. The gods don't lose sleep over blades. But
over ideas? Over defiance?" He paused, then added quietly, "That's
what makes them bleed."
"Whatever. I'll just go ahead and slash whatever comes
my way," Wei said as he turned and walked away from Ashveil. Ashveil
didn't offer any more words of wisdom.