As a negotiation between Bri, Alveron, and Monk begins, many moving parts are shifting into place in the Upper Realm as well. Millions of kilometers from the Ellipsia Citadel, two Red Ogres stand in a translucent fast-travel orb flying above a sea of endless green clouds. Syl, the slightly smaller bodyguard hired by Torvak to watch over Ember days ago, turns to Randel with a nervous expression. "Everything turned out just like the boss said... He really faked his own death, or, at least I hope that his words are the truth." Randel nods, staring forward at the clouds on the horizon that haven't changed much for hours as they've been traveling at maximum speed for quite a while. He holds a small black access card in his right hand that appears older than anything from the Citadel they just left, other than a few old structures remaining from before the Vermillion Family took charge. In his ether storage, a piece of an ether crystal has been separated into half a dozen parts. Torvak split the remaining medium-quality ether crystal Ember gifted him upon arrival, as they're going to need every bit of it to bribe their way into the place they're heading. Randel tightens his grip on the access card as the dark outline of strange, seemingly random cubes appears on the horizon of clouds. It's as if planet-sized black and green cubes have been stacked on top of one another, varying from hundreds of kilometers wide to tens of thousands, jutting out in strange and unpredictable patterns. It almost looks like a cubic crystal structure that has grown out of control. Syl takes a deep breath in and out. Whatever wave of cold just hit her dulled her senses for a moment. Her mind double-checks to ensure the small containment case with unknown items inside is still there. Torvak's order was to leave it behind in the same storage unit they are retrieving his crafting items from. Feeling reassured when she feels it, she shivers and nods. "I hope this goes smoothly too." Back on the Ellipsia Citadel, there are a few old standing structures from similar eras as these cubes, that have not been demolished and rebuilt by Andras Vermillion in the last 12,000 years. Roughly 4,000 kilometers closer to the central tower than the High Orcs' tower, there are 10 large ancient buildings on a block of the city full of 2nd and 3rd Class Berserker Giants. Within the oldest of these structures, with a similar cloaking mechanism that blocks those inside from interfering with the outside realm, Ember and Zashen have begun training. Ember is only in his hybrid dragon form, though his entire body is glowing bright with white ether as he radiates concentrated mental attacks from the center of a massive training room. Zashen, surprisingly, has none of his offensive skills or buffs activated. He just sits in the center of the room with his swords by his sides, meditating, concentrating every single drop of newly refined Ether into creating mental barriers to block the ruthless rain of attacks falling down on him. Every few seconds, entire mental barriers are shattered, and more of Ember's full-force attacks collide with his psyche, sending millions of sharp tendrils of ether into his mind. But every time, Zashen digs deep and forms another barrier. He blocks the incoming attacks once again, giving himself just enough time to flood his mind with ether and neutralize what could be considered mental poison. That is, just in time for his barrier to be shattered seconds later and for the process to begin again. This is what the two have been doing for hours. In the brief milliseconds between attacks, flashes of Ember's words when they first walked into this room rush through the Berserker's mind. "Well, until Asic and Torvak can make you a better Avatar, there's no use in tethering your soul to this one. So, until then, we might as well speed up your natural ether refinement. Plus, this will temper your mental defenses to withstand the full-powered attack from a Noble. I heard the Vermillions have been creating some formidable false demonic nobles in the Fortress over the last twenty thousand years or so. Seraphel said the one guarding the exiles has been weakened from an insufficient supply of Noble's blood. But the ones they lock up for times of war must be quite fresh..." The visual of Ember transforming from his human form to a black-scaled hybrid dragon similar to his memories triggers excitement in Zashen's heart. Stolen story; please report. Though, Ember's final words before their training began only spell out danger. "I guess we'll just begin with the mental tempering... say... until your new Avatar and soul weapons are ready." That, paired with the toothy grin Ember shows when things are going his way. However, the Berserker Race only grows stronger in the face of danger and certain death. These words, and the uncertainty of whether the mental torture will end in hours, days, weeks, or possibly longer if there is a change of plans, add to the mental challenge necessary to break through to a new and higher level. This is what the Berserker keeps as a driving force every time the waves of poisonous ether come within milliseconds of killing him, driving his ambition one step further each time. Back in the only other ancient structure on the Citadel, the High Orc Tower, the black doors that shut to hold two Nobles inside still have not opened. The street outside is completely silent. Those uninformed would not have any guesses close to the type of realm-bending training and lost knowledge from a High Noble being shared within those walls. Even seven floors up, on the top of the High Orc Tower, Torvak and Asic cannot sense anything through the ancient walls of this structure. Though, even if they could, they wouldn't pry, as they have pressing matters of their own to deal with. He cracks a grin and coughs up more blood. Orcs' lifespans are much shorter than Ogres', by almost half. While Asic is 103,000 years old, even the most resilient triple-ranked-up 1st Class High Orcs living the simplest lives rarely reach 70,000. He's well outlived his wildest expectations, and sees every day beyond the 2nd War a gift beyond what he ever deserved. The war-hardened veteran seems stoic, not much of a talker, but in reality speaking often requires energy he doesn't have to spare. It adds up after thousands of years. Ember knows this, and Asic knows that he does. Asic believes Ember wouldn't have asked so much of him without a reason. He speaks up again as Torvak turns his way. "This time seems different." The two look at each other for a few seconds and say nothing. Then Torvak nods and continues pacing. "I know it does... That's half the problem. I never know what he's thinking to begin with. Now it's even more out of my hands." While the two reminisce on the past, Ava jumps off the edge of the Citadel, using the planned power outages to mask her departure. As she falls, borrowing a wind magic skill to increase the speed of her descent, she's eager to return to the Hollow District—the outer ring where she left the huddle of goblins during her escape. Her orders are to collect as much ether from the Exile Zones as she can, as an absurd amount is necessary to craft a device in the center of the Citadel. Additionally, she's to free as many exiles as possible and bring them to the central mountain, where servants will help her transport them back to the Citadel. The second part of her orders seems straightforward enough. Since the Demonic Cyclops Guardian maintaining the exile system was killed, all the simulated borders trapping avatars in certain zones are gone. Bringing them to the mountain is a task she wanted to do even before becoming entangled in all of this. Ava starts at the central peak, she mentally maps out areas of the exile zones. The mountain is still split in two at the peak, and many demonic guards wander aimlessly while demonic worms devour anything that approaches. Join the discussion! Login to share your thoughts and connect with other readers. No comments yet. Be the first to comment!