Outcast Chapter 265 (Book 6 Chapter 50) (Patreon)

"Stop! STOP!"

The terror in Kismet's voice rose higher as death drew nearer. He fled from Rob's grasping hand, but a Purge Divinity-infused fingernail managed to graze him, carving out a scoop of divine essence as if flaying a mortal's skin.

Kismet let out a screech as the Purging energy added to his growing collection of scars. A dozen small holes now dotted the surface of his mana-body, looking like he'd been pockmarked by wasting disease. Each wound represented a moment where the god had narrowly escaped with his life.

If those injuries had been inflicted by any other ability, then he could have rejuvenated himself in the time it took to blink. Purging energy was not so kind as that. It was purifying wrath in the shape of a Skill; their vengeance given form. Whatever divinity it touched, it extinguished.

As if cleansing the universe of a sickness that had infected it for far too long.

The BERSERKER continued his unrelenting advance. In response, Kismet threw up a frantic barrier of mana. It was strong enough to deflect one of Ragnavi's Annihilation beams–

And Rob blasted through it like paper mache. His charge sent broken shards of energy scattering across the divine realms. More mid-air rifts tore open, the HUMAN's aura strangling the surrounding area in a vice grip of power. Purge Divinity seemed to glow with light emanating straight from the pits of hell.

None of which was anywhere near as unnerving as the murder contained within his piercing gaze. When Kismet met Rob's eyes, he saw the end of eternity fast approaching.

The god's next barrier was just as frantic. However, this one was not comprised of mana, but of solid matter. Kismet summoned the hardest, most dense substance known to the mortal realms, then transmuted it into something that otherwise could only have been forged inside the heart of a dying star. It was many times more durable than the impossibly tough walls of an aberrant Dungeon.

So when Rob demolished it with a single punch, he actually had to put a bit of elbow grease into his windup.

Another wall materialized in front of him. He crushed it, then the one after, and the one after that, lashing out with bestial ferocity. The BERSERKER plowed through Kismet's hastily-built defenses like a bulldozer of fists and savagery. Rob was knocking them down as quickly as the god could make them, relishing the sensation of being able to vent his anger on targets that weren't fucking running away.

Then the twelfth wall fell – revealing a monstrous, spiky, fanged behemoth concealed behind.

Rob paused, momentarily taken aback at the sight of a mundane creature within the divine realms. 'Mundane' in relative terms, anyway. This monster was on par with a newborn Blight, radiating power that would have sent ordinary fighters sprinting for the hills.

It was also barely cognizant of its surroundings. The monster stared at him with unblinking, vacant eyes, just the tiniest glimmer of awareness present in its gaze. Rob noted that segments of its flesh were bubbling, as if the creature was fresh out of the oven and still needed to settle.

He couldn't help but feel a modicum of pity. This was yet another thoughtless creation, condemned to existence by an uncaring maker. Even monsters deserved better than that.

Rob caved the beast's head in before it could realize that it was alive. Pity was not the same as hesitation, and this was the only mercy he could afford to grant right now.

Didn't matter. Kismet's pawn served its purpose. In the brief instant that Rob spent getting over his initial surprise, the god had teleported to safety. He was already planning his next stunt that could buy him a few precious seconds of survival.

The HUMAN grimaced as he turned to give chase, unable to suppress the burgeoning sense of unease growing within his chest.

It almost didn't seem fair to feel that way. Rob knew he was winning – at least on the surface. Any outside observer would've bet their life savings on him, especially after the show of overwhelming superiority he'd just displayed. Kismet had been at a disadvantage before Never Forget Your Rage's recent upswing, and now it was no contest. Rob was confident that he would still be stronger even if the eight gods merged into one super-deity.

He also knew that he was living on borrowed time.

Whenever he moved, or activated a Skill, or even breathed...the sensation was there. Strength accompanied by incongruous frailty. Like background noise that kept getting louder with every action he took. His body felt close to pulling itself apart, as if his very molecules were a hairsbreadth away from coming undone.

It was different from Soul Instability. Whereas that threatened to collapse his soul, this frailty was an affliction of the flesh. The longer he fought, the more his physical form was at risk of popping like a balloon.

Such was the price of constraining godlike power within a mortal shell.

"Stay back!" Unaware of the turmoil fermenting in his assailant's mind, Kismet threw up his hands and...inverted...space? Rob didn't have a name for what he was seeing. Rather than stopping to puzzle out this latest brand of divine bullshit, he sent out a pulse of Purge Divinity, canceling whatever esoteric effect Kismet had been attempting to produce.

His Purging energy scraped against the divine realms like a cheese grater. Five rifts immediately tore open near both Rob and Kismet, with the god anxiously retreating from one that appeared just inches away from him. A low rumble echoed around them, and for a moment, they felt struck by an abrupt feeling of vertigo – until the realms gradually stabilized, righting once more.

For now.

Rob eyed the rifts with a detached, clinical gaze. An endless sea of mana resided behind them; the bedrock of the system itself. While he recognized that the rifts tearing open was bad news, he also couldn't really muster the energy to care. Between his overflowing rage, overtaxed body, and overburdened soul, minor details like the impending destruction of reality were hard to give much focus.

There was a way to fix all of that, of course. Rob couldn't outright deactivate Never Forget Your Rage – not without losing its bonus stats. But he could attempt to ease the storm of fury in his heart. By lessening his anger to more reasonable levels, Never Forget Your Rage would put less strain on both his body and the divine realms.

The notion forced a peal of hideous laughter to claw out of his throat. Lessen his anger? He'd have better luck trying to douse a volcano with a garden hose. No. For a wildfire that had grown this out of control, the only thing to do was stand aside and let it burn, burn, burn.

Until naught remained.

"I said stay back!" Kismet bellowed. He lifted his arms into the air. "Begone!" One moment later, Rob's vision was filled with scorching light. An apocalyptic geyser of mana burst forth from underfoot, intense and searing. It stripped the flesh from his bones in no time flat, powering through Almighty Resistance with pure, unmitigated violence.

And it still wasn't fast enough. Rob flickered a Purge Divinity shield for just an instant, allowing him to escape the geyser with his upper body – and most of his HP – intact. Lifesurge swiftly patched him up, leaving both combatants right back where they'd started.

Slowly, Kismet lowered his hands. They were shivering. "What are you?" he whispered. "Why are all my efforts in vain?"

To be honest, Rob was mildly impressed that Kismet had held on for this long. The god's combat efficacy was increasing as time passed, improving from panic-spamming teleports to more inventive maneuvers – as if he was learning how to fight on-the-job. He'd also stopped draining the other gods to supplement his power, having found an alternative source of fuel: mana seeping out from the sporadically-opening rifts.

It was the one silver lining to fighting an implacable BERSERKER so powerful that he fractured reality. Whenever Rob utilized Purge Divinity, more rifts opened up in the realms, and more mana leaked out from inside. The gods had invested that energy into the system millennia ago, and it typically would've been off-limits until they closed up shop and left Elatra. Kismet was making use of it now, absorbing the extra mana to strengthen himself, like a lifeline barely keeping him afloat.

The god's tenacity was...calling it 'admirable' would be going too far, but it did warrant a sort of begrudging respect. As someone who'd tangoed with multiple Blights, Rob knew what it was like to square off against a frenzied beast that could end him with a touch.

Being the scary one was a nice change of pace.

In exchange, Kismet had graciously donned the role of their battle's Combat Class user; fragile, outgunned, and pulling improvised maneuvers out of his ass for a chance at victory. The god could finally feel what it was like to be vulnerable. How exciting! Rob was more than happy to assist. Learning experiences such as these only came around once an eternity or so.

Flippancy aside – while Kismet still possessed room for improvement, this was the most that could be asked of a deity who hadn't seen combat in literal eons. His biggest fuckup had been taunting Rob in the wrong ways, but he couldn't have known about Never Forget Your Rage, that was an excusable oversight. By all other accounts, Kismet was performing adequately.

Even so...

"YoU aRE noTHinG."

The sound of Rob's voice caused two fresh rifts to open up. Kismet flinched, casting a teleportation spell out of pure reflex. Without pause, the HUMAN resumed his hunt.

Nothing. Perhaps that statement was hyperbole – yet it rang true nonetheless. While Kismet may have been a creature of supreme divinity, on the field of battle, his pedigree meant nothing. In the face of an implacable, unstoppable foe, his power was worth nothing. Very soon, he would be nothing, consigned to oblivion by Purging energy.

Rob couldn't help but unfavorably compare Kismet to the final Blight. Weren't these supposed to be two sides of the same coin? Each one-half of an original transcendent Will? Yet the Second Will had brought Rob to the edge of despair...and Kismet was fleeing like a cornered rodent. It was difficult to reconcile the two divinities as theoretical equals.

Although he knew that was an unfair comparison. Rob had fought the Blight before learning Limit Break and Never Forget Your Rage. Kismet wasn't weak.

The HUMAN was just far too strong.

If he rematched the Second Will today, he would beat it to death with his bare hands.

"Look at what you've wrought!" Kismet swept an arm out, gesturing towards some of the many rifts that Rob's presence was tearing open. "Do you understand what will transpire if you persist in this folly?! If the divine realms shatter, then so will all of Elatra! You are on the brink of destroying everything which you have striven to protect! Cease this–"

"CAN'T."

In a flash, Rob dashed forward and scooped out a chunk of the god's mana-body with Purge Divinity. Before he could do more, Kismet shrieked with pain and teleported away, leaving the BERSERKER to crush his prize between five clenched fingers.

"FoRCed mY HAnD." He located Kismet again. "NO GOING BACK."

Stopping wasn't an option. If the divine realms crumbled and Elatra imploded...well, that would be a faster end than what the gods had in store for its people. At least this way their deaths would be quick and hopefully painless – and his friends wouldn't be turned into Skills tortured for all eternity.

Still, Kismet did have a point. Destroying reality wasn't exactly the ideal outcome. There had to be a way to speed up the conclusion of their fight. Rob was certain he would win if given enough time, but he couldn't guarantee it would be before either his body or the divine realms collapsed.

{Ascend.}

Like a snake slithering through a minefield, Leveling High skirted past the whirlwind of thoughts and emotions raging within Rob's mind. He attempted to tune out its voice, yet Humanity's curse refused to be denied, the static loudening until he was compelled to respond. Quit distracting me, he snapped. In case you haven't noticed, I'm FUCKING. BUSY.

{You seek to ensure victory over those who rule above,} Leveling High continued, without missing a step. {As do I.}

Then sit back, shut up, and–

{Ignoring your deficiencies will not make them disappear. This body is...feeble. Incomplete. Unfit to wield the power contained therein. Like a polished sword attached to a brittle hilt, liable to snap in twain at any moment.}

Rob grit his teeth. He couldn't deny Leveling High's assertions. Normally he'd just tell it to piss off, but considering how much was at stake here...

With a feeling like he'd sat down to deal with the devil, Rob sighed. Then what do you suggest? That we upgrade my body somehow? I don't think putting more points into Vitality would help, even if I had any to spare. Me being so juiced up on stats is half the problem.

It shook its head. {You have far surpassed the limitations of mortality. Strengthening your power further would be akin to pouring water into an overflowing cup.}

So we...what, increase the size of the cup?

Static akin to laughter echoed inside his head. {We do away with it entirely.}

An icy chill began creeping up Rob's spine, as if the cold hands of fate were working their way towards his neck. He recalled a system notification from days before – 'Your Race has morphed from Human (?) to: Ascending HUMAN'.

Not Ascended. Ascending.

Weeks-old memories came surging to the forefront. 'The Heartkiller is closer to our form of life than those you call friends,' the Blight-child of Elysium had once said. 'As long as you continue to live, eventually, you will become an existence with the power to crush the Others and free the Skills from their shackles. You are no longer one of the Ephemeral. Now, you are a cocoon, metamorphosing into something grander. When you emerge, you will be as the Eternal.'

The Blight-child had laughed at him, then. 'After joining us, preserving these worlds will no longer be your desire.'

Rob grimaced. Denied, he flatly told Leveling High. Whatever you're about to suggest isn't happening.

It scoffed at him. {Your prejudices blind you. Do you think the gods have need of physical bodies? Does it hinder them in any capacity? No – the opposite. By definition, infinity cannot be constrained. Discard this useless flesh, and your conquest of the divine realms is assured.}

Maybe you didn't hear me when I said–

{By all means. Spurn my counsel...and condemn your friends to death. Shall their lives be worth it, in the end?}

Rob sucked in air through clenched teeth.

{Ascend.} Leveling High purred with anticipation. {You are bound by a prison of meat, bone, and blood. Break free. Finish what has already begun. Seize victory not as a Human, but as a completed, transcendent HUMAN.}

With a scream to drown out the static, Rob chased after Kismet again and again. The god was in full-on panic mode, eschewing offensive attacks in favor of perpetual retreat, focused wholly on keeping the BERSERKER as far away as possible. He would teleport the instant that Rob laid eyes on him, frantically stalling for his life.

It was – quite unintentionally – providing evidence to Leveling High's claims. If Kismet was on the defensive, catching him would take time they might not have.

I... Rob narrowed his eyes. How would I finish Ascending, anyway? It isn't like I can just flip a switch and make it happen.

{Incorrect.}

He blinked. WHAT?

{You have long since achieved the qualifications for true godhood,} Leveling High explained, in a lecturing tone. {There is no milestone that remains necessary to achieve. Rather than needing to overcome some hurdle of strength or power, the obstacle barring your path is more...arbitrary. Self-imposed.}

Humanity's curse seemed to peer into his soul. When it spoke next, its voice was filled with disgust. {You remain mortal because you wish to do so – both consciously and subconsciously. The Ascension of a nascent deity has been obstructed by cheap sentimentality.}

Rob almost started an argument over its usage of 'cheap', but he exercised restraint, keenly aware that there was bigger fish to fry. Can't do anything about the subconscious. I am not activating Melancholy Resistance.

{Nor should you,} Leveling High remarked, shuddering at the prospect. {A grand statement of intent will be sufficient to shift your mentality. I believe...yes.}

The static churned like a hive of buzzing wasps. {When you next tear off a piece of the leader god's mana...even if just a sliver...devour it. Gorge yourself upon their essence.}

Bile threatened to rise to the top of Rob's throat. Seems excessive, he mused, trying and failing to keep his tone lighthearted. To become a god, I eat a god? Wouldn't that make me a divine cannibal?

{You ARE a cannibal.} Leveling High's voice wavered, its veneer of helpfulness slipping to reveal the madness that lay beneath. {What do you think you've been DOING for nearly a YEAR? You kill, ingest your prey's Experience, and MAKE THEIR POWER YOUR OWN. This world is one of consumption and parasitism – devouring a god's essence is merely a more HONEST variant of THE SAME actions.}

...You clearly weren't paying attention during Diplomacy's PR lessons. Rob pursued Kismet once again, pressing his fingernails into his palms when the god hurriedly teleported away. There is such a thing as being too straightforward. If you want people to listen to you, then maybe dress up your words so they don't sound so horrifying.

{BUT AM I WRONG?}

Rob had no answer to that.

Bolts of divine mana peppered his skin. Kismet had barely managed to squeeze an attack in-between his escapes. The bolts ricocheted off Rob's skin like ping-pong balls, leaving minor scrapes and nothing more. It wasn't anywhere close to bypassing Almighty Resistance and his massive HP pool.

Yet it also reminded him of the mana-spears that Kismet had sent towards the rest of Riardin's Rangers. His Party members only possessed a shared, diluted version of Almighty Resistance, and their HP was a fraction of his. If Kismet aimed another attack of that caliber at them...how many would perish, right then and there?

Was Leveling High correct? What point was there to sentimentality if it just got his friends killed?

In truth, Rob knew that it didn't really matter if he completed his Ascension. Based on what he had planned for himself after the gods were dead, little would change either way. Still...he also knew that Ascending would be a one-way trip. No take-backs. If he went through with it, a fundamental part of him would be irrevocably altered.

Something twinged in a corner of his mind. It wasn't Leveling High, or his rage, or any of the other emotions currently dominating his headspace. This was a familiar friend; perhaps Rob's #1 most trusted confidant since he'd first set foot in Elatra. One that had rarely ever steered him wrong.

Paranoia.

And at the moment, it was telling him to be very careful before jumping into the deep end.

Ten teleports.

{What?}

Give it ten more Kismet teleports, Rob said. If I haven't dealt him a serious injury by then....I'll do what I need to do. He grimaced as Kismet vanished before he'd even finished the thought. Ten starting now.

Leveling High's static quieted. It resembled a patron at a restaurant who'd ordered their meal, and was waiting patiently for the main course to arrive.

Rob didn't waste time being offended over its nonchalance. Free of distractions, he immediately swept his gaze across the divine realms, pinpointing his quarry in a micro-instant. The BERSERKER dashed forward, pushing his body as far as he could, layering Rampages on top of Dexterity that made the laws of physics want to curl up and weep.

Kismet was prepared. He'd drawn more mana from the fractured rifts, quickening his speed and reactions. It wasn't much, but it was enough to keep his head above water, not yet outpaced by their continually escalating arms race.

The HUMAN struck, the god fled, and both were left in the same position as before.

{One.}

Rob turned on a dime, charging without needing to look. He'd heard the moment that Kismet's teleport ended. It afforded him a split-second head start.

A gravity well suddenly appeared below his feet, as if a miniaturized black hole was weighing him down. Apparently, Kismet had set it up ahead of time as a just-in-case trap. Rob pierced through the spell's area of effect before it could ramp up to something dangerous, but his pace was slowed by a hair in the process, and his prey escaped.

{Two.}

You know what? Screw this. Rob whirled away from Kismet's newest location and blasted straight towards one of the lesser deities that his Party members were fighting.

He'd been too hung up on getting even with a hated foe – when there were seven other juicy morsels for him to play with. This way, Kismet would either sit back and watch as his allies were massacred, or the god would be forced to act instead of running like a goddamn cowar–

Sense Mana alerted Rob to magic gathering behind.

Pivoting, he leapt into the air. Rob superimposed himself in front of Kismet, bodyblocking the rainstorm of destructive mana that was about to be unleashed upon Riardin's Rangers.

Due to his swift response, the attack was released early. A simple Purge Divinity shield prevented him from incurring any damage. Rob still felt no sense of triumph as the mana dissipated around him. He just wasn't fast enough to kill the lesser gods and protect his Party at the same time – or at least not fast enough that he should gamble their lives on it.

Kismet disappearing a moment later didn't help matters either.

{Three.}

Frontal assaults weren't guaranteed to succeed, and targeting the other gods was a no-go. Could he take Kismet by surprise? Increase his Dexterity?

Rob contemplated mining Never Forget Your Rage for more stats, but swiftly vetoed the idea. His body was already struggling to hold itself together. Putting additional strain on a shaky foundation seemed...unwise.

Plus – at the risk of eating crow in the near future – he didn't actually think it was possible to feel angrier at the gods than he was right now. Seriously, what was left?

He hated them for sending him to a fantasy deathworld. He hated them for tormenting his friends and family. He hated them for being partially responsible for the Blight. He hated them for what they'd done to Elatra and Earth. He hated them for all the lives they'd stolen. He hated them for being the living embodiments of indifference and cruelty. He hated that they fostered good PR among the people they oppressed. He hated how monsters of such craven hypocrisy were also immeasurably powerful. He hated the sensation of divine mana crawling on his skin. He hated the unsettling sound of their voices. He hated their bizarre formless appearances. He hated them for being pompous pricks. He hated whenever they tried to relate to him. He hated whenever they didn't.

Most of all, he hated that they were still alive.

Even if he found out that they'd personally antagonized him since birth or some petty nonsense like that, it wouldn't measure up to the litany of transgressions they'd committed thus far. The blazing inferno within his soul could burn no hotter. Should burn no hotter. For his sanity's sake, if nothing else.

Kismet teleported. It wasn't in response to anything. He'd merely anticipated some sort of action – and was then baffled afterwards when he noticed the rampaging BERSERKER standing quietly in deep thought.

{Four.}

Rob advanced. While he didn't have a plan yet, he'd also learned that if he gave Kismet the slightest amount of breathing room, bad things tended to happen.

Can any of my Skills give me an edge? Unfortunately, he didn't think so. As usual, his lack of ranged options was biting him in the ass when it mattered most. Almost everything he could use required getting in close – which was the whole freaking problem – and none would be more effective than Purge Divinity, regardless.

Maybe I could set up a Waymark point, then catch Kismet's teleport with one of mine...no, that won't work either. The odds of him popping in next to a random Waymark point are slim. Could fill the battlefield with lots of Marks, but even then I have to consider the Skill's activation time. With my current Dexterity, it'd honestly be faster just to run at him.

The vast majority of his abilities simply weren't up to par in a clash with divinity. Limit Break, Purge Divinity, and Never Forget Your Rage had been specifically designed by the Skills to facilitate deicide. Something like Power Slash couldn't possibly compare to jailbroken stats and a touch of death.

As an act of defiance against his own logic, he cast Enmity, the only ability that could feasibly hit Kismet at range. The god casually shrugged off its effect before promptly escaping.

{Five.}

Like a frustrated animal, Rob snarled and gave chase. Just need to keep trying. Kismet isn't perfect.

{Six.}

Sooner or later, he's going to mess up.

{Seven.}

He's going to mess up.

{Eight.}

HE HAS TO MESS UP.

Suddenly, Kismet transformed his right hand into a blade of mana. With one harsh motion, he sliced open his own left arm.

By now, Rob had conditioned himself to never stop moving forward, even if something shocked him – which this sight very much did. His mouth dropped open, and Leveling High paused in the middle of eating its metaphorical popcorn. They still kept advancing without an iota of hesitation.

And ran straight into the mana cloud leaking out from Kismet's wound.

Rob blinked, opening his eyes to a wonderful day. The twisting plains looked dazzlingly beautiful, with fauna and plantlife lit by rays of effervescent light from the twin stars shining above. People cheerfully went about their day, happily shaking their trunks in shows of greeting, or rattling their scales to initiate merry games.

All was at peace.

Until – in unison – everyone froze. The tumult of life went quiet in an instant, replaced with pensive silence.

As if they'd been struck by the creeping, pervasive sensation of being watched.

A sound rang out. Half of them immediately fell over dead, fluids gushing from their ruined bodies.

The survivors could only lay there, crippled and in pain, as more people slowly rose into the air. Invisible fingers seemed to pluck them from the ground – and then began ripping off their limbs, one at a time, like a sadistic child dissecting butterflies–

Rob dragged himself back to the present.

It had taken much less time than before to recognize what was happening. Now that he knew what to expect, experiencing the remnant souls' lives wasn't so different from the dreamlike quality of an Attunement vision. Although...realizing that he'd witnessed the end of a world preceding Elatra did cause his thoughts to hitch for a single moment.

Which was just enough for Kismet to forge a spear of mana, then send it plunging through Rob's eye, skull, and brain. Its tip was forged to shred anything it touched, no matter how durable or Resistant.

The god whooped with glee – only to wince as the HUMAN's sole reaction was a long, drawn-out sigh. With an air of exasperation, he reached up and yanked the divine spear free with a nauseating splorch.

His eye had been reduced to a seeping red mess. He closed its eyelid. When he opened it again, the orb within had already Regenerated, now sporting an unamused glare.

It was something of a unique moment. Mid-battle events didn't typically leave both combatants feeling disheartened. The all-powerful god was losing faith that he could ever hope to stop Rob's onslaught...

And the BERSERKER didn't know if he could justify continuing on like this. His body still felt like it was pulling itself apart; if anything, the sensation was growing more pronounced as their battle progressed. While Kismet would make a fatal mistake eventually, Rob couldn't guarantee that he would last long enough to capitalize on it.

Unless he followed Leveling High's advice and–

With a howl that shook the divine realms, Rob launched his stolen spear at Kismet. His aim was true, yet it sailed through empty air, the god's afterimage tauntingly fading away.

{Nine.}

Final chance.

Something inside Rob's head clicked. He exhaled, cleared his thoughts, and concentrated. There was no time to plan – so he made some for himself.

Quick Thinking Level Increased! $^&$#*# → (@^$(#)&

The world went still, as if he'd pressed pause on reality.

Okay.

What Skills was he underutilizing? What stats was he underutilizing?

Go down the list. Reassess your preconceptions. Strength to deal damage. Vitality to survive. Endurance to fight for long periods. Dexterity to catch his prey. Perception to find his prey. Mind to shield his...well, mind. Magic to use certain Skills, especially Rampage. All necessary and important.

Yet not always treated equally.

He felt confident that he was getting the most out of his Strength, Vitality, and Dexterity. They were his bread-and-butter stats. Perception less so, but he couldn't exactly call time-out on the fight to go train his senses. Mind–

Actually, Mind was linked to a surprising number of abilities. Passive boosts like Heat Resistance, utility Skills like Speed Reading, and even things like...

Sense Mana.

He'd never been great at Sensing Mana. It didn't come naturally to him. Then again, what about any of this was natural? That ship had sailed the moment he started making numbers go up by killing squirrels. He wasn't here for an honest duel – he was here to cheat his way to victory over the inhuman despots of the divine realms.

And luckily, nothing cheated harder than Level 99 Skills. For example, this highly interesting bit he recalled from Never Forget Your Rage: 'Significantly increases the user's proficiency with Sense Mana.' He hadn't given it much thought before, simply because manipulating mana wasn't his forte. It didn't seem relevant to how he typically won battles.

Time to fix that.

Rob charged. It was a direct frontal assault with no bells or whistles attached. Quick Thinking slowed his perception of reality to a crawl as he watched Kismet prep his teleport.

In that same split-second, he focused on Sense Mana, expanding his awareness across the battlefield. I feel...Kismet. Myself. Riardin's Rangers. The lesser gods. Divine essence. Rifts leaking. Energy. Energy everywhere. Yikes. Is this what Malika senses all the time? How can she hear herself think?

Eyes twitching, Rob pruned out any unnecessary information, separating the white noise from what was important. He sharpened his awareness to a razor-thin point and searched. Amidst the clamor of magic, rifts, and divinity, he found...

A disturbance. No larger than a ripple in a vast ocean. Yet it was there. Something new.

Something that had started right when Kismet saw him charge.

The god weaved mana, initiating his escape.

{TEN! YOU–}

Rob smothered the static into a low whisper, rushing towards that tiny ripple. Kismet's teleportation spells were instantaneous, but to an Ascending HUMAN with unnatural Perception and Quick Thinking, nothing in the universe was truly beyond perceiving. He reacted in the space between moments, Sensing where the god's teleport would end up, then heading straight for it.

Which meant that when Kismet re-appeared, Rob was already mere inches away.

PURGE DIVINITY.

He aimed for the center of mass. Leveling High's static had gone silent, as if rendered speechless. Rob watched in slow motion as – without even a hint of resistance – his hand sank into the stunned god's torso.

GOOOOT. YOOOOU. Fingers clenched, energy pulsed, and laughter echoed. A thrill of triumph surged through Rob's veins, like adrenaline mixed with sweet ambrosia. For a brief micro-instant, he was allowed to believe that the battle had been won.

Then Kismet exploded.

It was more startling than harmful – like a Riardin's Special of divine essence detonating in Rob's face. Without warning, the god's mana-body abruptly burst apart, scattering in all directions.

The HUMAN was left in a state of baffled disbelief, holding his arm out towards nothing. Was that...it? Had Purge Divinity triggered the godly equivalent of an allergic reaction? Because it was supposed to eradicate their mana, not do that. And considering that the gods could shape their mana at will, how much would exploding realistically affect them?

What if this was no different than a lizard abandoning its tail?

His suspicions were confirmed when Kismet reformed a safe distance away. The god was clutching his wounded chest area, looking somewhat worse for the wear. Fear and outrage had overtaken his countenance. "How did you discern where I would appear? How?!"

Rob didn't respond. Instead, he stared at the fragment of divine essence clutched in his hand. It was all that remained from what should have been checkmate.

A consolation prize for his failed efforts.

{...Eleven.}

Leveling High said nothing else. It didn't need to. Rob couldn't even fool himself into thinking that he'd proven his point. While this was the most damage he'd inflicted on Kismet so far, it was hardly the decisive blow he'd wished for.

That wasn't enough to warrant another eleven fruitless chases. Not when both his body and the divine realms were treading ever closer to collapse. The ever-increasing weariness of his flesh was proof of that. Victory wasn't impossible, but it seemed increasingly unlikely that he could seize it before catastrophe struck.

I've still taken a step forward. If I make use of Sense Mana again, react faster next time...then Kismet would adapt as well. The slippery bastard wasn't going to be caught off-guard in the exact same manner. He would also be siphoning more mana from the rifts, gradually increasing his power – whereas Rob's had plateaued.

Unless...unless...{unless...}

Unless the HUMAN Ascended.

As if drawn by the pull of destiny, his gaze locked onto the fragment of divinity held within his grip. Rob shivered as a red haze began coating his vision. The essence called to him, singing a melody of transcendence, inviting him to throw off the restrictive shackles of mortality and become something greater.

He just needed to devour it. Accept its divinity unto himself. Embrace his metamorphosis, and gain the might of gods. With his full potential realized...he could save everyone.

At the cost of his humanity.

Maybe the distinction shouldn't matter at this point. Compared to the average Elatran, his mortality was essentially window dressing. What mortal could go toe-to-toe with the creators of a world? Besides, the Blight-child could've been wrong about Ascension changing him. Even if he went and made things official, 'preserving these worlds' would always be his goal. He would still be himself.

Probably.

Assuming that godhood didn't forcibly alter his personality.

Assuming that Leveling High wasn't misleading him in some way.

Assuming...a lot of things, really.

I shouldn't be hesitating. Rob glared at the divine essence as if it was a poisonous viper. Of course this is risky. It's still less risky than praying I get a lucky hit on Kismet in the immediate future. I've always preferred to roll the dice if it would better my odds, so why–

{Your true emotions are laid bare to me,} Leveling High interrupted, hissing loudly. {These justifications mask a core of selfishness. You worry that Ascending will leave your friends behind.} It made a noise of distaste. {Apparently, that is more important than ensuring their survival.}

Rob froze. All at once, several puzzle pieces slotted into place.

Leveling High wasn't entirely wrong. He was being selfish. Rob knew that even in the best-case scenario, Ascending would turn him into an existence that was incompatible with living in the mortal realms. It would be like the disconnect he'd felt when visiting Fiend territory recently, only magnified a hundred times over.

None of that sounded remotely appealing. Ultimate power wasn't worth feeling eternally isolated. His visions of the Original Will, Second Will, and gods had made that exceptionally clear.

However...if that was all, he wouldn't be hesitating right now. Unlike the rest of his Party, he was totally allowed to make heroic sacrifices. Rules for thee and not for me. Rob would've discarded his humanity in a heartbeat if he thought there was no other way. Logically, he did think that.

Emotionally, he didn't.

Because he wasn't alone.

Even at his most fatalistic, Rob couldn't overrule the part of him that believed in Riardin's Rangers. If he kept faith...just for a little while longer...

They would grant him a miracle.

It was then that a warbling SCREECH resounded throughout the realms.

Rob and Kismet were unable to suppress their curiosity. Making sure to keep an eye on each other, they cautiously directed a portion of their attention to the screech's origin. Both were fully intending to ambush the other if they detected the smallest hint of carelessness.

They still almost lost composure after noticing what was going on.

At a separate corner of the battlefield, Zamira was tearing into her opponent with what could only be described as ruthless efficiency. The god flailed like a helpless lamb before a butcher, impotently thrashing about as a Skill-wreathed sword carved into it time and again. Mana erupted in a conflagration of panic, but Zamira sidestepped its reprisal with graceful ease, untouched and unfazed as she went back to one-sidedly dominating a literal deity.

Rob resisted the urge to rub his eyes. He was having difficulty understanding what he was watching. It wasn't just that Zamira was winning – it was the way she was winning. From what he could surmise, her stats hadn't increased. She didn't seem stronger or faster than before.

Yet her movements embodied the very pinnacle of swordsmanship as an art form. Precise, calculated, but flowing like water. She was a painter at work, and with every stroke of her brush on the canvas, her final portrait took shape.

One-by-one, all other battles ground to a halt. Seven mortals and seven gods stood transfixed as they bore witness to expertise not seen in many thousands of years.

Like a wounded animal, Zamira's foe – or more accurately, her training dummy – lashed out. Destructive mana surrounded her. Exhibiting zero concern, she dashed forward and imbued her sword with the light of a Skill.

"Lost Art: Moonlight's Mirror." In one swift motion, she sliced up through the mana in front of her. The light imbuing her sword repelled the god's energy, parting its magic like the Red Seas. Zamira immediately dashed into the opening she'd created and scored another vicious blow, disengaging before the god could retaliate.

Lost Art? Rob pondered. Okay, that's definitely new. He'd been in the room when Riardin's Rangers discussed their Level 99 Class Skills, and Zamira hadn't mentioned anything like this. Something must've changed while he was busy fighting Kismet...not that Rob was in any rush to look a gift horse in the mouth.

Zamira moved as a blur of silver and steel, shifting behind her opponent. "Lost Art: Aura Blade." The light enshrining her sword intensified, and when she struck next, it left an injury on the god's mana-body that struggled to heal. By now its form appeared threadbare, like a patchwork quilt that had been ripped and sewn back together countless times.

That was when Rob truly realized what was happening. Zamira's fancy footwork and new Skills were impressive, yet they wouldn't have amounted to anything if she couldn't deal lasting damage – which she was. While her Aura Blade wasn't nearly as effective as Purge Divinity, it had still achieved the combination of raw power and mana manipulation that was necessary to harm a creature of energy.

Slowly but surely, the god was dying.

Everyone else realized that around the same moment. The lesser gods moved to assist their comrade, and Riardin's Rangers quickly intercepted them. Rob caught sight of Keira bashing her god aside with the flat of her greatsword, knocking it away before it could cast a spell at Zamira.

Noticing a flicker of motion, Rob took one step towards Kismet. The god halted in place, his arm half-risen. They exchanged a long look. Kismet didn't want to restart their song and dance, and Rob didn't want to miss the show.

Eventually, the HUMAN let out a chuckle. He waggled his finger at his dance partner, as if admonishing an unruly toddler."LeT hER CoOK."

And cook she did. Unhindered, Zamira methodically dismantled her god. Cut by cut, and piece by piece, the deity was whittled down to a pale imitation of its former glory. Once or twice it managed to slightly graze her with an attack, but that was all.

Its fate had been sealed for a long time now.

"Lost Art: Eight-Pointed Jaws." Zamira hammered the god with a rapid flurry of blows. Each strike carved a line of mana into its body. When the eighth line had been unleashed, the god suddenly crumpled inward, as if it was being chomped on by the maw of an enormous beast.

Piteous screams melded with the sound of a Bladesoul readying her most powerful Skill. Its aura shone with a wicked silver glow, like a falling guillotine reflecting the sunlit rays of a new dawn.

"K-Kismet!" The god reached out to its leader with a trembling limb. "Please! Kism–"

"CREATED ART: GOD-SLAYING SWORD!"

She cut just once.

The god burnt away, leaving not even ashes in the wind.

Rob concentrated with Sense Mana. His mouth split into a feral grin when he searched for the god's essence and detected absolutely fucking nothing. It was gone. Kaput. Finito. Wouldn't have been possible without Kismet draining his own allies to save his skin, but he had, so here they were.

The HUMAN activated Purge Divinity and clenched his fist. He destroyed the essence fragment he'd ripped from Kismet, then fixed the god with a gaze of murderous finality.

"ChECkMaTE."

Kismet flinched, comprehension dawning on him as he envisioned how the rest of the battle would play out. Zamira didn't seem the least bit winded. She had plenty of gas left in the tank, and was currently heading over to team up with one of her allies and slay the next god.

With that in mind...the day's outcome had already been decided. Rob would keep Kismet busy. Riardin's Rangers would steadily clean up the lesser gods. Then, as a full Party, they would gang up on Kismet and beat the everloving shit out of him.

No fuss, no muss.

Kismet began to panic – then stopped, centering himself. He seemed to reach a decision, some plan formulating in his thoughts.

Defiance? Oh, that's adorable. The BERSERKER's grin grew so wide that it hurt. Let's make this a game. His hands pulsed brightly with Purging energy. Will I kill you before my Party members finish up on their end? We win either way, but hey! Can't have them do all the work–

"Elder Alessia is dead."

Rob's breath caught in his throat.

She...what? He'd heard Kismet speak, but, no, that couldn't be–

"Elder Alessia is dead. Remember that I cannot lie."

He tried to respond. No words came out. It felt as if the world had vanished from underneath his feet.

"Elder Alessia is dead," Kismet repeated, for the third time. "She used Soul Burn to keep the Queen of Dragons at bay."

She...she used...

Rob hadn't seen Alessia when he went to check on Fiend territory. Didn't think anything of it. Wasn't like he looked everywhere. Figured he'd just missed her.

But she was...gone? Since Ragnavi? He'd spent days expunging Dungeons and Leviathans, gallivanting around Elatra like a fucking idiot, thinking that at least he'd prevented more people he cared about from dying, when the whole time, Alessia had been–

{BEHIND!}

The warning came far too late.

Even if it had come earlier, though, he still might not have dodged. Kismet's attack wasn't packed full of destructive magic like his other spells. Sense Mana didn't register it as a threat. Rob immediately cast Dauntless Reprisal on reflex, but that didn't help either.

Because this wasn't intended to damage him.

A surge of mana pierced Rob's back. An intense burning coursed through him, as if his veins and skin were being simultaneously set aflame. It was a sensation that, unfortunately, he recognized.

Kismet had directly infused his soul with mana.

This wasn't the first time. The gods had done it once before to refill Rob's Purging energy stores. In fact, although they'd warned him of the consequences, he'd pushed for it rather...vocally.

Despite being inflicted with Soul Instability as a result, Rob didn't regret his choice. Back then, it had been the key to finally ending the Second Will's appalling ambitions.

Now?

It was no better than adding ten tons of weight onto rotting support beams.

Rob fell to his knees. Agony and weakness suffused his body. He felt Purging energy swell within – for all the good it would serve him, because he couldn't move a muscle.

An unsurprising system notification popped into view.

Warning: Soul Instability has increased to High!

--

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