After over a decade and a half in Ordanvale, Simon finally decided to leave and journey south to see the Oracle in her mountain-top city. He wasn't looking forward to explaining who he was again for the third time, but he had to; it was the only place where he was likely to get answers about what he was experiencing.

The strange swirling about him had eventually calmed down, but his vision only kept getting stronger. Sometimes, on a particularly clear day, he felt like he could look right into people's souls.

Before he could do that, though, he said his goodbyes and destroyed or hid everything that was likely to cause problems in the future. That announcement triggered shock throughout the community and an outpouring of well-wishes.

First and foremost, that meant a number of parties that he was all but required to attend. Simon didn't begrudge the people he'd come to know so well that. That was only fair; he was about to vanish from their lives forever, and some people took that harder than others.

He'd become a pillar of the community. Truthfully, it didn't even look the same as when he'd found it. He'd found a place that was frightened and scorched, and was leaving behind somewhere with whitewashed walls, gardens, and art. The Earl might take the credit for all of that, but he knew who was really responsible.

If only someone did this to every struggling community in the whole world, it would be a better place for everyone, Simon thought as he did a watercolor sketch of Ordanvale in his journal one last time so he'd have something to remember it by for as long as this life lasted. He wondered how many lifetimes it would take for him to fix all of the problems himself, but dismissed the thought almost immediately.

It would be easier to clear level 99 than to do that. He told himself.

Between the social and logistical entanglements, it took weeks from the time he'd made his decision, but he wasn't in any great hurry. Simon was a rich man, even if nobody knew it. If he'd been smarter when he'd started, he would have built himself a crypt or something somewhere and shoved hundreds of pounds of silver into one convenient location.

As it was, though, his wealth was hidden in half a dozen large chests buried near landmarks not far from the trade roads that ran through the area. They'd be easy enough for him to access in the future. For now he was more concerned about all the magical trinkets he'd made over the years.

Although he didn't want to destroy his loyal dousing rod or the collection of wands he'd crafted, he certainly didn't want them to fall into the hands of others, which was the primary vector that seemed to create warlocks. It didn't take much for some people to go mad with power, and he could imagine what a single lightning wand might do in such cases.

Well, I don't exactly have to imagine, now do I? He thought as he walked south. Simon had seen what goblins and orcs could do with a single spell; humans were no different in that regard.

Last year, he'd even heard from a traveler about fighting goblins who wielded fire in the same way he'd seen before. Simon was tempted to go hunt the little bugger down and try to get some answers, but he decided against it. This life was about Ionar's eruption, and increasingly about keeping his mind clear and focused; he could kill more goblins next time.

Simon still had several years until Mount Karkosia blew, and beyond the orb, the armor, and the weapon he'd created for the occasion, he needed very little. He was going to go take care of this one job, and then he was going to press deeper into the Pit, and begin methodically eliminating levels one at a time.

While he walked, he thought about that a lot. He felt the pang of regret that he'd been denied the opportunity to escort Kaylee and Eddek where they were going, and he wondered what the vampire level would contain now that Freya was no longer part of the equation. He had a million questions that weren't just unanswered; they were unanswerable, at least until he got there. Still, the fact that he would was never in any doubt.

The only question that really nagged at him now, beyond the evolution of his sight, was which of the two mutually exclusive powers was more beneficial. Was it better to be able to command the forces of the universe with a word, or was it better to see how everything fit together?

It was hard to say, but the longer he walked, and the more he thought about it, the more he was reminded of some of the riddles the Oracle had given him in his last life. The more he knew, the better he could change things; his knowledge was imperfect, but it was still more surgical.

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Of course, as always, his reflections on these deeper topics were interrupted. He was attacked one night by dirty, hungry-looking men one night while he roasted some sausages over a small fire. Simon offered to share, but it was clear from the first moment that he glimpsed their greasy souls that this would end in bloodshed.

His new sight hadn't warned him that they were coming, but it did reveal the man hiding in the bushes with a bow. He could see it by the threads that connected the mangy gang as much as the nervous glances over their shoulder.

Simon was tempted to smite him down from a distance, but his wand of force that he could use as a sniper rifle as easily as a scalpel or a battering ram was packed away. So, instead, he merely kept trees and opponents between them, and then, when everyone else was dealt with, Simon prowled the long way around, tracking his fleeing footprints as they wove through the trees before running him down like a dog.

It was his first cold-blooded murder in a long time, but he didn't even feel bad about it. He'd been a leader too afraid to charge with his men, an assassin in the shadows, and ultimately, a coward who'd fled the field when all was lost. Simon felt nothing at all about butchering him.

At least, not until he noticed how much muddier those deaths had made his view of the world around him. That was irksome.

There were other bandits during his trek south, as well as goblins and other monsters. Simon could see these coming thanks to the shadows over certain woods, but he avoided those whenever possible. He was trying to see the world right now, not change it, and while slaughtering the bandits hadn't hurt his experience numbers at all, they had muddled his vision.

He could still see the auras and the threads, but the subtle colors and the nuance were gone, and it took time for it to start to come back. Just one more experiment I need to perform, Simon said to himself as he moved ever closer to the dry Raiden Mountains before him.

There, he didn't always have the chance to avoid violence, even if he wanted to. The beastmen were too numerous for that. This trip, he stuck to the highlands as much as possible to minimize those encounters, which led to a close encounter with a giant bird of prey, which he avoided, and a nest of living harpies for the first time.

That surprised Simon. After all the searching he'd done, he'd thought they were extinct, but nature apparently found a way even if you were an ugly bird woman who smelled like shit. The roc or giant eagle or whatever it was, he avoided, but the harpies he slew. That was much because of their proximity to a well-used trade road as because of their ugly, vicious natures.

They even called out insults that sounded remarkably similar to Ionian speech as they attacked and died. While he was slightly conflicted about killing the only harpies he'd ever actually seen, he didn't feel at all bad about letting the giant bird live instead of shooting it down. It would have been a shame to kill something so majestic.

He meditated on how arbitrary that distinction was as he made detailed sketches of the harpy corpses and saved a few feathers in his journal. He planned to minimize his contact with Elthena, but given that the portal was in her throne room, that was probably impossible. So, if he was going to see her anyway, he planned to let her know that harpies basically didn't exist anymore.

"Maybe she won't marry me," he grumbled, "But maybe she'll settle down with the next guy instead. It would be a shame for her not to be a mom."

Truthfully, her existence no longer made his heart ache. It was their son, Seyom, and his lack of existence that did. He'd become such a fine man, and through Simon's actions, he'd never been born. That killed Simon long after everything else from his life in Ionia had faded to dust.

Simon mourned him for the dozenth time as he started hiking again, and left the harpy carcasses to rot in the sun. While his trip through the mountains was bloody, his hike to the top of Mount Elian was as sedate as always.

This time, he didn't stay with the monks at the base of the hill. He didn't need their help, or even their supplies, not when a hot bath and a warm meal were waiting for him at the top of the mountain. It took several days to make the climb by the road as it usually did, but every night that familiar lair of clouds got a little closer.

When he reached the top, he found the same woman he'd seen on his first journey here. What was her name? He wondered as he approached the gate. Diara? Diana? Something like that. She was among the youngest of the white robed priestesses. He knew that because she was only a teenager when he'd been here last. Simon tried to think about how old that would make Zoa as he struggled to figure out what to say, but before he could say anything at all, the woman said, "There you are, Simon. You have returned to us at last."

"I… you know me?" he asked as he experienced a wave of déjà vu.

"Of course," she smiled. "You might not remember me, of course, I'm Diara. I've grown quite a bit since you've been away."

"Since I've been away?" Simon asked dumbly. "How long have I been away?"

"Four? No, five years, I think?" she smiled, "I'm not sure, but I'll bet Zoa knows down to the day."

"She does?" Simon asked as his head continued to spin. Why does anyone remember me? What is going on? That's not how this is supposed to work.

In response to that, Diara laughed uncertainly. "Of course she does. She's been pining for you this whole time… well, maybe not pining. In fact, maybe don't tell her I said that."

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