Bara's brother, the king, branded 'the Great Traitor' ever since, had met with a Kondunean general to negotiate a peaceful surrender.

Bara had to slay his brother, and to avoid Mecia devolving into civil war, assume the kingship.

To preserve the fragile alliance with Tormina, he married the Great Traitor's widow, Queen Helagan, sister to Tormina's King Vedka, the man after whom Angar had been named.

The marriage was loveless. During her first child's birth, Queen Helagan had a stroke, becoming a dunce, a husk with a child's mind needing to be led around. But dunce or not, Helagan could birth children.

And, as was long-standing custom, Helagan's three children became Bara's own, every bit as much as the ones he put in her belly. As Laka lived, he was forced to disown Ved, who Laka then renamed Angar, announcing to all whose son he was.

Laka vowed to get her man back no matter what, to live as a family again. She refused to wander the holds, as was a witch's duty, staying in the city of Mecia, causing all sorts of problems for the king.

For the sake of the alliance, Baraga refused to see her, not unless she left Mecia, living away from the Ulimuns, ceasing the endless problems she caused him.

After a year, Laka relented. She retreated to Urdmut, her footsteps heavy with resentment as she settled in the shadow of the Ulimuns, the hold nearest to that grand range.

There, supplicants flocked to the Weirding Witch for her uncanny foresight, and she channeled her mind into forging young Angar into Mecia's greatest warrior, determined to force his father to officially recognize his son as his own.

King Baraga began forsaking his throne's demands, sneaking off north, seeking stolen days with the woman he loved and the son he'd cast aside.

As the years ground on, he grew colder, more distant, knowing the Kondunean Empire would eventually conquer his people.

The vision leaped five years forward, a rush of seasons flashing like wind-swept ash, Angar now inhabiting his father, a twisted joy at Helagan's latest pregnancy warring with a wish for her death, an end to the torment caused by his infidelity.

Surprised by Baraga's inner turmoil, all the thousands of doubts racking the man who'd always seemed unyieldingly sure, so certain of the right path. Angar felt the king's resentment toward Laka's pull, eroding his devotion, his resolve, his duty.

Baraga marched back to Mecia after sneaking north again, spending time with his once-wife and his once-son, when warriors rushed with dire news. Kondune conquered the city of Tormina in a surprise night assault, leaving the defenders unable to light the signal fires.

A runner had informed those in Mecia. If the signal fires were lit, the warriors would've mustered and marched. They would've been too late to help, but they would've marched.

With no signal fire, scouts were sent to confirm. If King Baraga hadn't been away, he could've mustered Mecia's warriors as soon as the runner brought news.

A void grew in the king's chest, self-loathing flooding it. He'd broken another oath, with only himself to blame, neglecting his duty to the Great Lord, to his people, to Tormina, in pursuit of stolen moments with his lover.

It didn't matter that Mecia's army would've been too late anyway, as marching and fighting, tithing the Great Lord with battle and blood, even if certain to lose, was his duty.

Tormina would blame him for forsaking the alliance, his lack of faith, and name him coward and oath-breaker, no different than his brother, the Great Traitor.

It nearly broke him.

Mecia now stood alone as the last unconquered bastion of all known lands. It'd be Kondune's next prey.

He welcomed it, an honorable end to his conflicting duties, to his infidelity, to a life and responsibilities he'd never wanted, finally ascending to Qitakai in glory beside the Great Lord.

Angar's face, at least in his mind, twisted into a grimace. He'd been certain his father's faith and convictions were steel, as his own were. He vowed to never let faith, duty, and love tear his soul asunder, as they had his father's.

Instead of warping to another scene, the vision dissolved into oblivion. The hallucinations faded like dispersing mist, reality slamming back into Angar's mind, anchoring him once more within his body in the northern scum's foul council chamber, the Mindscape's chaos still disorienting him.

"Sir Angar?" Aude's voice pierced the haze, her hand shaking his armored arm with tentative urgency. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," he replied, turning his helmed head to meet her gaze. Then he nearly jumped, his heart slamming against his ribs like a hammer.

Support the creativity of authors by visiting Royal Road for this novel and more.

Behind Aude loomed a sight that convinced him the hallucinations lingered, a spectral impossibility that sent ice through his veins.

"Good," Aude said, relief washing over her features, the worry lines on her face smoothing. "Since I returned, you haven't moved a muscle, just standing there, stock-still for about an hour. And I was out of the chamber for a couple of hours before that. Are you certain you're okay?"

"That depends," Angar replied, and calmly despite the turmoil. "Do you see anything behind you?"

Aude's brows creased in confusion. She glanced back tentatively, then leaped in fright. "Ah!"

She darted behind Angar, her breath quickening, clearing his view of what was either grim reality or a shared delusion.

Assuming it wasn't the latter, Angar dropped to one knee, bowing his head in deep reverence. As he did, a message from Holy Theosis scrolled into his vision, words from the Divine etched in fire.

He skimmed it hastily, nervousness and annoyance preventing him from reading it in full.

He'd been granted 110 Glory Points. A reward of 30, tripled to 90, for being the first non-Gray to breach the Mindscape, and 10 twice for prompting the need for Theosis to forge two new Feats.

Annoyance gnawed at the thought of being 71 points shy of another Adroitness boost. He'd be 34 over if Theosis hadn't withheld the previous 105.

But nervousness gripped him far tighter, for an astral projection of one of the galaxy's major powers stood before him. Or, more accurately, hovered before him.

"Stand." The words weren't spoken aloud but resonated in Angar's mind as if they were. He rose, hearing Aude scramble to her feet behind him.

Before him floated the colossal form of Eeshek'tik, the Grays' inaugural Saint and longest-serving Pontifex Maximus, his ethereal presence radiating ancient power.

In AE 793, in the Scutum-Centaurus Arm, the cradle spawning the Grays, an Underworld incursion unleashed a powerful Dreadfiend through a gateway, Hell's first attack on the species outside of Orion.

The Grays, lacking true warriors then, their tiny and frail bodies fully unfit for battle, had let loose what machines and weaponry they had, but it wasn't enough.

Eeshek'tik, ancient even then, had confronted the beast with his mind, his psychic fury shattering its infernal essence, emerging the victor.

This event awakened the Grays to the inescapable horror of Hell. Retreating from Orion wasn't enough. There was nowhere safe they could hide, spurring them to join the Holy Empire, though about half joined the Old Guard, cursing Terrans for their woes.

But Eeshek'tik, despite his feeble, decrepit body and tiny arms and legs, transcended frailty, becoming a legendary warrior. He led his kind in battle after battle for ages, then guided their spirits as Pontifex Maximus for well over a millennium. He'd only relinquished the role after clashing with Mara on Holy Bastion half a millennium ago, his mind nearly shattered.

Now, he sat in some kind of giant hovering device, his astral projection rendered in golden monochrome, translucent, but not really.

Though he had the feeble body all Grays once had before genetic enhancements shaped them more like Terrans, ascension had enlarged his frame, and his head proportionally, making it truly enormous.

Angar wondered how the tiny, twig-neck could possibly hold it up, then nervously tried blanking his thoughts, wary of offending this legend, as famous as Saint Dentatus the Black. This Gray had fought half a dozen Demon Lords and Ladies.

"May I have permission to see your thoughts?" Eeshek'tik's mental voice probed. "Only those tied to your breach of the Mindscape, a realm we believed only our kind could achieve."

That startled Angar. Astral projections were supposed to be incapable of influencing the material world. Angar's mind and mental defenses would be nothing to this Gray, so he couldn't bar him. "Yes…uh, I'm not sure what title to give you. 'Saint' seems inadequate."

The Gray offered no reply. Angar braced for a mental invasion, a stabbing pain, a whisper of intrusion, something. He felt nothing.

After a mere second, Eeshek'tik continued, "A deed not of your merit, but achieved all the same. What lay beyond the door? Such visions elude secondhand probing."

Angar hesitated briefly, but saw no peril in sharing, and potential wisdom to gain. "One of my glorious ancestors addressed me. Then I…I more than saw…I lived through my parents' eyes."

"No ancient entities from the galaxy's core?" the Gray asked. "No giants in insectoid armor under shadowed robes, slaughtering all in their path?"

"No, uh, Saint," replied Angar.

The Gray nodded. "What counsel did your ancestor impart?"

"He confirmed my current beliefs, Saint," stated Angar, "what the Knightly oath already demands of me, that I be unyielding, a man of strong faith and steadfast conviction."

"The visions of my kind diverge vastly," Eeshek'tik mused. "An unknown evolution of Electrosynapticism. Demonstrate it."

Angar scanned the chamber. Stone wasn't conductive. Desecrating the corpses of those he slew, the councilors, wasn't a good idea. Only his hammer, nearer the massive doors, was conductive, and he didn't want to risk damaging it. He needed a target.

Eeshek'tik's form blinked to the stands, hovering above a solid bench. "This stone harbors large lumps of graphite within," he stated, as if plucking the thought from Angar's mind.

Angar nodded. Earlier, that power had erupted unbidden. He was determined to repeat the deed, refusing to embarrass himself in front of this legend.

He extended his gauntleted fist, commanding reality to yield to his desires. Minutes ticked by in strained silence, sweat beading under his helm, exhaustion creeping in.

No visible confirmation emerged, but he felt the silent surge of currents release in the bench. He held it for as long as he could, draining him.

"Good," Eeshek'tik approved. "A unique application of something like Electrosynapticism. Rest now. Rebuild your Resilience before further psychic exertion. Your name, does it have a meaning? Without meaning, it's nonsensical noise to us."

"Yes, Saint. It means 'son of chief.'"

The Gray titled its giant head. "Son of the chief, or son of a chief?"

"Son of a chief, Saint."

"Skre'eek," stated the Gray. "You force what should flow, Skre'eek, wrenching a stuck wheel with brute muscle when you should be the grease loosening it. Practice. Improve. Should you reclaim the Mindscape, I'll impart three lessons in psionic control."

"Yes, Saint," replied Angar, earnestly. "I will, and thank you very much, Saint."

With that, Eeshek'tik vanished, his presence winking out like a doused flame.

"Holy Theosis!" Aude screeched, her voice pitching high with awe. "I can't believe Eeshek'tik just graced us. That was insane! Did you see the size of his head? What did you two talk about? I must know."

Angar desired to finalize his Feat selection. He'd held off doing so this whole Tier, and Theosis' new creations had him very curious.

But first, he had more important business. He turned to Aude. "Do I now rule the north?"

He hoped she had bad news, and this foul city would overflow with monkey blood.

If you find any errors ( broken links, non-standard content, etc.. ), Please let us know < report chapter > so we can fix it as soon as possible.