Chapter 1780
Once Randidly withdrew from the process, Claudette felt herself given the spark of momentum but bound within the confines of her own image. She moved back and forth, the whole of her reaching the delineated limits of the details Randidly had given her until she impacted the edge and rushed back through her image with slightly more intensity.
In her accelerating passage, the shape of her personality warped the work that Randidly had done. Not that there was anything necessarily wrong with it, but it wasn’t her image. Not truly. Now, as she crashed back and forth without fear or judgment toward the changes she was making, the image became her own.
The constant motion relaxed her. Claudette felt her consciousness turning blurry at the edges. So even while her image buzzed with pent-up force, she fell asleep.
Her focus turned inward. In her dreams, Claudette rebuilt herself.
Even with the assistance of Randidly Ghosthound, Claudette still experienced a strange unease whenever the possibility of her own existence occurred to her. So she smelted herself a suit of dark blue armor, to give her the solid hands to interact with the world. The armor had no helm and no body within its confines, but its hands could wield the desolate blade Clarent.
On her left hand was a dull red glove, the color worn away by long years of use. Occasionally a spark of a half-forgotten intensity was prodded into existence, but those violent displays quickly extinguished themselves. On her right, Claudette wore a pitch-black gauntlet with ridges along the knuckles that leaked a sludge-like black material.
She held the sword in front of her, the blade filled with swirling darkness, and tightened her grip. The dream began to change around her. The buzzing in her image threatened to sunder all the work they had done to empower her.
Yet her attention was elsewhere. With her body created, Claudette fought across the sky, cutting through faceless enemies that were more often than not her own fears and insecurities given vague, amoeba-like bodies. But these foes were indestructible; as she bisected their flexible shells, they simply split into smaller forms. As the dream stretched, Claudette had to wade through a sea of bodies, adopting a style of dispassionate butchery to advance.
She fought until she returned to the gloomy kingdom ruled by her father. Even when her fears became as small as ants, biting at her ankles when she wasn’t paying attention, she moved through the hollow world once that was once so bright underneath the stewardship of the four Skykings.
Claudette used Clarent to cut through the high, abandoned gates and stormed through to her father’s throne room. There he sat, waiting for her. Her energy rushed back and forth through her image at such a high speed that she was completely filled by her energy. Her image began to swell to avoid cracking open like a dropped egg.
Her father’s smile curled outward as he looked at the thick, black drops falling off of the gauntlet on her right hand. “You’ve returned. As I always knew you would. And it seems you’ve grown quite a bit since I’ve last seen you. I’m so proud of you.”
For a split second, Claudette wavered. But as she looked at her father, she recognized the same greedy gleam in his eyes; her expression hardened and she raised Clarent. “I refuse to be a tool any longer. You cannot control me, father.”
“Will you kill me, then?” He regarded her with a serpent’s smile. “Have you changed to the point that you are willing to kill to get what you want? Truly, you are my daughter, through and through.”
This time, his words did not affect her mentality. Her image continued to balloon outward, struggling to endure until she laid this last detail to rest. She stepped forward and held her blade horizontally across her body, without any intentions to speak. Her father laughed and gathered two fistfuls of shadows. “Come, then. Show me what you’ve become.”
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“You-” Randidly licked his lips and tried again to decide what he wanted to say. At the moment, he had too many questions jostling for his attention.
His Nether Core whirled excitedly just at the thought.
So Randidly nodded to the Don and held out a hand for the memory. If he was going to get swept up in this situation, he at least wanted to get as many benefits as he could. The Don chuckled and flicked the gleaming item, sending it drifting over to him. After accepting it, Randidly paused and said. “One question, before we go. Why do you want to pursue the Nether King?”
“I believe you are aware of the reasons that I am handling Claudette’s situation in such a callous manner. I need more power to protect her; I am making my own preparations to ascend to the Pinnacle. The Skull of Truth is an object that I want very much, for the assistance it will give me.” Don Beigon wheeled himself over to Randidly.
Randidly shook his head, unwilling to accept that. “But Elhume has killed everyone who has gotten too close to the Pinnacle, right? So what’s the point?”
The Don’s smile turned sharp as he regarded Randidly. “Heh. Maybe you should waste your favor on that sort of question if you truly care about the answer.”
In the face of this rare glimmer of genuine antagonism from the dramatic individual, Randidly pressed his lips together and nodded. His attention turned inward as he examined the memory passed to him by Don Beigon. The visual provided was somewhat blurry, but Randidly easily got a feel for the Aether and Nether of that place.
For Randidly, that would be enough to create a portal.
It was a desolate place at the edge of the Nexus, beneath a luminous grey nebula. Randidly produced his Philosopher’s Key and felt through the air, trying to capture that particular sensation.
Should I really be helping the Don...? Randidly wondered idly as he tasted various locations. But when he found the match, he still slid the key forward. Once they met up with the other Pinnacle Seekers, they would still need to find out information about where the Nether King was hiding. He could obtain this favor and withdraw later.
Although Randidly worried that he might need to cash in the favor just to force Don Beigon to let him go.
When the portal opened, the Don cheerily rolled himself forward through the fluctuating hole in the world without any doubt in his mind. As he moved, Randidly watched as a thin thread stretch out from the wheelchair-bound man toward his body. Just like earlier, he reflexively flared his Nether Weight to resist it and nothing happened; the thread ignored the layers of Nether and established a connection between the two of them.
However, Randidly immediately felt a bit of sway that he now had over Don Beigon. This was the downside of the Don’s influential image, Randidly realized. For internal consistency, the hooks in himself had to be just as effective as the hooks in others.
Pondering how he could use this favor, Randidly walked through the portal. Almost immediately, the density of Nether on the other side snapped his attention forward. There, waiting for them as though he wasn’t the most infamous individual in the Nexus, the Nether King floated in the gloomy light of the Nebula. That crowned being turned slowly, with the Pinnacle Seekers around him following his gaze to look at the new arrivals.
If I had known the Nether King would be on the other side of the portal, Randidly’s skin was crawling. He cursed himself for not noticing the difference in Nether, then realized that it was probably just the difference in their manipulation of Nether that had left Randidly fooled. I wouldn’t have followed the Don so easily-
Congratulations! Your Skill Nether Sensation (L) has grown to Level 361!
“Ah good,” Don Beigon didn’t seem intimidated in the slightest by the shock and suspicion aimed in his direction. “You are all already here. That makes things easier. Mister Nether King, would you like to make a deal with me?”