Netherly wails streamed from a throne composed of souls and god-creature bones.

Twilight pervaded around the devilish realm. Gray and teal soil covered bones for dozens of miles. Cold, corrupting, deathly air brushed upon all who inhabited the minor realm.

A woman awaited within the regal symbol, three lesser stations beneath it. Banshee wails and unfulfilled ghosts drowned in the eastern underworld—the sole domain of the First Reaver, Ceridia. Her white and red eyes were fixated on a scrying portal connected to her gifted black and white orb. A conduit and protection for her scion, the living Reaver, Luke Wallace.

She tapped upon the air, turning it solid, white and black, swirling into a vortex at each point. Teal souls naturally left her body, cycling back, unable to escape her gravity. Sulfur, brimstone, and fire's scent clashed against the presence of ice, blight, and crushing darkness. Reflected through the scrying portal, the scion lay, having overcome his greatest challenge yet.

The path he followed was a dangerous one, as she anticipated. It was no different for her—worse in her days. One didn't create an era without struggle. Bringing a hand up and clutching it, souls sucked into her palm. She used them to shut the others out, and no gods, their servants, or other powers would be allowed to see her only living progeny.

Angry wails screeched, rumbling her world. Five throned auras bared down upon the realm—their holy power clashing against the unholy. They played this game throughout the eons, and none of the five trusted the others enough to come and invade the First Reaver's realm—afraid they'd end up the second slain Throned in history. Ceridia knew this—as the only true Godking slayer—and pressed the advantage to the greatest extent.

They would not come here, too busy fighting among themselves. Creating Tides, sieging each other's domains, and ruining Ludus. Intimidation meant nothing to a being nearly as old as they were.

Her usual muted expression turned into an eternal smile. Her true joy derived from denying the world's rulers their desires. Something few would dare to do, and fewer still could accomplish. Succoria, Belfaghor, Pelondix, Jalar and Avarix, the current five Throned, Godkings to the other god creatures and beasts. When the Sacrament alerted these five to the birth of a new Defier—as they did for any of their number—they planted observation agents onto the scion. Their reaching influence spread to the Edgelands. The Defiling Barrier that protected the last three bastions could not wholly deny their influence—instead weakening it.

Yet, they would find themselves denied in full, now reliant on the converted morals they viewed as toys. The information gained was distorted, ruined, and often revised—her doing. Closing the scrying portal, she leaned back into the throne.

"Your sister seems unhappy with me, Veronica." Ceridia swirled a goblet of green souls in her hand, drinking from it, "How I wish Succoria would come here. I gladly would consume this realm to devour godly flesh once more."

The pale-skinned, red-eyed Royal Vampire stood from her crimson and gold throne, kneeling toward Ceridia, she said, "She's too cowardly to rise from her Throne. The blood in her veins must be running stale by now." Veronica glanced to where the scrying portal once shone, "That boy is doing better than I expected. An Elemental Human already. I hated fighting those before I joined you."

A bleached, pale old man with a full white beard and head of hair manipulated the echoes of the past. His grey-trimmed white rob failed to conceal the time symbols swirling in his eyes. He sat on a throne shoulder to shoulder with Veronica's; white sands shifted within. Closing his eyes, he said, "The crystal demon's control over the echoes amounted to little else than parlor tricks. A Reaver who cannot overcome that should return to our abyss, unable to carry out greed's will."

Sitting back down in a huff, crossing her legs and arms, "Ornery Agares, is that distaste at masters of ice and shadow leaking out again? The boy is fine, if given enough time, he'll approach even where you stalled. He's already gone further than any other, except for one."

"Withhold the provocation, Veronica. Has the lack of blood stirred your mood? The scion must meet with Ceridia's last remnant. And much greater beings will stand between them."

Blue dots came to life from a construct in ghost steel, its wispy white hair dragging along the deathly currents. The Spectral Lord commanded all the ghostly beings within the underworld. The tier six creature had little else to do outside of the rarely issued trial duties. An unpleasant but necessary hassle, the temporary loss of power was always dreaded. Sitting on the last high throne, made of wailing metal, it whispered, "The grand lord's conditions were satisfied. This one may still reveal greater potential, Agares."

"He underutilizes the legacy. If he could see past what the Interface hides…" Agares began before crushing the echoes around him. He peered at timelines unknown to any but him, "Our greatest desires could be wrought on this unbalanced world."

"As you often control, give it time, Agares." Ceridia set down her goblet, "The limiting structure is not so easily outdone. The most abhorred Numbered, Wayfinder the Lost, may ease the difficulty but won't negate it. A condition lain by our loss in the failed era."

Face tightening, Agares said, "It cannot be said to be a failure. Before then, the god-creatures were unabated. Now, pockets of the world are slipping away, living a partial freedom, something impossible to imagine, until you stole it into existence, Exalted One."

"A Pyrrhic victory is a failure to me, Agares. With each passing century without the creation of fully matured Sinned or Cataclysm, the four races inch closer to total enslavement." She stood from the highest throne. Countless devils, spirits, demons, and humanoids in undeath kneeled to her.

Her gaze threatened to devour them all, the greed tugging at their core. Stepping down the throne, she traveled her court, stopping at the transparent barrier that protected the final area of her trial. She turned around, back now touching the barrier, "The scion has inherited the burden of all who inhabit this realm and many in the world of living. See to it that you do more than place your hopes upon my successor—he may very well make decisions opposite mine."

A gigantic cracked silver moon, painted with her likeness, a sword, and a wand crossed underneath, basked the realm in unholy light. Ceridia's divine spirit gathered the holy powers pressing upon her nether realm and devoured it whole. Her realm expanded slightly, the aura thickening.

"I await your visit, Throned. One more should join me in undeath."

——————————————————————————————————————

The Reaver awoke with the feel of sharp grass stinging his back.

Gentle winds brushed against his icy physique, frost rushing off him. Fluffy white clouds drifted above the stern-faced hunter representative cautiously overlooking him. A peaceful hum emanated from the gigantic white crystal structure behind him, tall enough to take up the edge of Luke's vision. Sooty guarded his chest, oriented toward the hunter representative.

Aside from aches, the damage from the fight against Nemenoth had vanished. Elevated power thrummed in the Reaver's blood. Blinking rapidly, he adjusted to the soft sunlight, too different from the dank abyss he'd engaged in a death match in some time prior.

Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

Since the sun arched high in the sky—on the way out—Luke knew a time-consuming duration passed, but likely not the full twelve hours allowed to Crystal Demon Point's challengers. He spoke to the representative, "How long was I?"

"From the time you entered, to now, Ninth, over nine hours have passed. Daylight is about done. Your companion dragged you out here an hour ago. She hasn't allowed me any closer again after she let me bandage you. Would've brought you back to the infirmary as the protocol goes for sole survivors."

"Sole survivor? Halen and her three should've come out by now."

"Let me correct myself, those four left hours ago. The protocol refers to when a hunter survives Crystal Demon Point without any remaining party members."

Old wounds reopened, Xera said, "I'm a party member. Sooty is one too. Heck, even the silent book and-"

"Xera, he knows. I know. Let sleeping dogs lie." Reaching out to Sooty, Luke ruffled her feathers, "Taking you along was a life-saver, Sooty. It's possible I would've managed otherwise, but I don't see how."

The corvid pointed her beak skyward and gave a loud rattle. She flew up above, circling around, indulging in the free skies. Getting up, the Reaver felt the Dryad bandages tighten along his legs and stomach.

Blue and green clothes adjusted to his movement, the hunter representative cautiously advised Luke, "Take it easy, Ninth. When I bandaged you, I saw the remaining damage. Whatever you endured, there is something that would kill any hunter I know below tier 3. Your vitality is something else; I'll tell you that."

Frost misted away from Luke's eyes, his elemental power no longer burdened to preserve his life. He could sense the subconscious fear coming from the representative. Luke smiled, "You can go back now. I killed the other eight. No one else is coming out, representative. They're dead, echoes in Crystal Demon Point."

The representative stumbled back, "Defier, with the Tide so close, why would you…"

Luke sighed, "I didn't have much a choice, as soon as I interfered in a conflict between Halen and the other two team captains, it was kill or be killed. My strength was nowhere near enough to spare them and survive myself."

Grimly nodding, the representative composed himself for a moment. He spat on the crystal grass, "Many hunters fail to recognize the true horror deep in each of you Defiers. They pull their usual tactics in any of the eight," he caught himself, "sorry, nine's presence, and it never works out as intended anymore. As you've given permission, and I'm apt to take you at your word, I'll report the results to the hunter's branch immediately. They'll want a detailed account, as they do when a particularly deadly Demon Crystal Point delve miserably takes place."

"I'll make part of your job easier for you then, Representative. Garic's Rogue attempted to assassinate an unconscious hunter. Her team voted to leave the Shimmering Expanse prior to the event. I took it upon myself to stop it. One thing led to another, and I killed all eight." Luke paused, walking over to the central white crystal structure, and sat against it, keeping his back rigid, "The other four survivors are in no way responsible for the eight deaths—other than incompetence and staying in the Expanse for too long."

The representative turned to leave, placing power in his legs, ready to land in the forest and away from the frosted horror nearby.

"One last thing, Representative."

With a flinch, the representative said, "Yes, Ninth?"

"Vathen and Garic's teams, I want their entire background investigated and to inform Musai they consumed Ichor."

Whirling around to face Luke, the usual fear left the representative, "Are you absolutely certain they possessed Ichor, Ice Defier?"

"The white aura and disgusting holy power made it just as obvious as the Interface did when it told me to my face."

Tearing apart a mound of crystal grass the hunter representative occupied, he ran off at a speed Luke would've been impressed by a day or two ago. While the man showed apparent hesitance around him, the power within belied a tier 2 physique—a honed one at that.

Well enough along, Luke tried to ascertain if the 'gaze' set on him. It left shortly after he'd slain Nemenoth. Now, either it concealed itself beyond his senses or moved on. This place as good as any, Luke sorted through the Interface log.

[You have stolen 1019 HP, 0 Agility, 0 Intellect, 0 Strength, and 15 Crystal Affinity]

[You have reached the limit of your vessel. Unable to further gain HP until the third vitality threshold is shattered]

[Clear the Crystal Demon Point quest complete. 10 Skill Points are granted to you and your companion]

[Congratulations, you have Imbibed the blood of a Tier 3, Level 75 Sovereign Creature. Your Spectral Heart has strengthened and taken a step toward the next evolution]

[You have peered into the next realm of Elementalization but have not conquered it—stuck in a stage between Expert and Master]

About to be overcome by frustration, the glorious line he'd been hoping for was there—buried beneath the heap of useless information. Lying near the bottom, granted shortly before he went unconscious.

[You have achieved a feat. All conditions met, perform the ascension ritual to enter tier 2]

Pumping a fist, Luke celebrated—the deadly gamble paid off. Against all odds, he'd reach the requirements for tier 2 before the Tide. Eldacar's warning gnawed at the back of his mind, but now, it seemed like needless worry. He'd undoubtedly accomplished beyond what would be expected of him in a short span. If even this ended up falling short and he died, Luke wouldn't pin it on a lack of effort. Although, the Reaver had faith he'd survive against anything remotely reasonable. He pulled up the Reaver's Spectral Heart, excluding the information on Frostfall Reave, as it hadn't changed.

[Reaver's Spectral Heart]

An Exalted Heart adapted to an elemental body. The bearer of this heart enjoys several advantages over the unachieved.

Spectral Adaptation: The Exalted Heart adapts the body, imbibed by the blood of the most ascended foe the Reaver has slain. Permanently increases the Reaver's limit of stat steal—current expanded limit 8%.

Imbibed blood of a tier 3 level 75 Sovereign creature. Modifier increases based on tier of imbibed blood.

Stolen Talent II: Increases talent with mastery and usage of essence, including learned techniques—advances per tier.

Expanded Greed: Stat-steal now works on the special stats of hostile targets at a much lower rate.

Sealed Passive - Unlocks at tier 2

His limit increased from 7% to 8%. Since that limit often came into play in his fiercest battles, the Reaver appreciated the increase significantly, even if the stolen attributes or otherwise frequently left to the etherous void. That sealed passive would reveal itself soon—another tantalizing prize awaiting him at the next step.

Calling out to Sooty through Reaver's Link, the Reaver waited patiently. Once his companion perched on a nearby crystal outcropping, he took off Wayfinder and put the Numbered on the floating Whispering Tome. Next, he stabbed Xera into the ground between Sooty and the other two artifacts.

The grasses swayed peacefully, and the forests encircling this crystal dominated clearing remained quiet and quaint. Their pine and woodland scent a great change of pace to the iron scent of blood or ice that usually plagued the Reaver.

"Sooty, Wayfinder, Xera," Luke put both arms over his knees, "Whispering Tome. Feel good words are pointless, but the achievements speak for themselves. You all are better partners than I could ask for, even if we clash. Cover me where I'll fail and stick with me until I find my dad somewhere out there."

Sooty resettled on his lap, content to nest there. Her actions spoke for themselves. Whispering Tome swayed back and forth in a smiling arc.

Xera's crystal lit up, she shouted, "Take me along to all the battles and make sure it's me who splits the biggest nasties around. Do that, and you're the master I wished for while in that chest for what seemed like forever."

Compass body rolling about on Whispering Tome's surface, Wayfinder said, "Lad, you see use in me where me previous owners don't. This old compass owes as much to you, as you do to him. If you can bring out the proper conditions, me needle can show the way, no matter how harsh the fields get."

Luke returned a nod to each of the four. He put his hands over the back of his head and popped his spine. Legs now spread out, the Reaver looked over the last status before reaching tier 2.

[Status]

Name: Luke Wallace

Level: 50

Class: Essence Reaver

Race: Elemental Human

Tier: 1

HP: 18750 HP

Stats: 897 Agility, 997 Intellect, 927 Strength

Special Stats: 126 Frost Resistance, 25 Mental Resistance, 20 Fire Resistance, 20 Shadow Resistance, 17 Resilience, 17 Poison Resistance, 10 Water Resistance, 10 Blood Resistance

Affinities: 50 Ice Affinity, 21 Ether Affinity, 18 Blood Affinity, 15 Crystal Affinity, 13 Shadow Affinity, 7 Crafting Affinity, 7 Fire Affinity, 6 Wind Affinity

Active Abilities 5/5: Infusion Tier 2, Essence Bond Tier 1, Rank IV, Essence Lance Tier 1, Rank IV, Essence Fissure Tier 1, Rank IV, Siphon Tier 1, Rank IV

Passive Abilities 1/3: Roll of the Reaver Tier 1, Rank IV

Skill points: 10

Resource: 139 Essence 13.9/s regeneration

Other than the newly added race parameter, the rest fell into about what he expected. His gear pushed him over the threshold limits for the main four attributes. An aura of confidence filled Luke. He could accomplish other things in the remaining time—an upcoming auction, training, and connections to be forged. While he couldn't predict the coming pieces to the daily puzzle, Luke believed in the result he worked tirelessly to bring to fruition.

The Tide would soon be upon Sylen, and the Reaver finally saw hope in surviving it.

Next chapter will be updated first on this website. Come back and continue reading tomorrow, everyone!

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.