Outcast Chapter 266 (Book 6 Chapter 51) (Patreon)

Author's Note:

9500 words. Posting early so the night owls have more time to read.

--

MOVE!

Rob willed himself to stand up. No dice. The signals from his brain were being rerouted directly to his nerve endings, flashing his body with pain whenever he so much as twitched a finger.

MOVE! MOVE, GODDAMNIT, MOVE!

The pain wasn't the problem. He'd long since learned how to ignore sensations as routine as excruciating agony. No, the problem was that ignoring his pain didn't help – he still couldn't move. Willpower alone wouldn't be enough to hasten his recovery. It felt similar to when he'd first gained Soul Instability, and that had left him frail as an invalid, needing a good ten seconds of recuperating just to get back on his feet.

Kismet wasn't going to allow him ten seconds.

A grim calculus was taking place within the god's featureless expression. Rob could tell that despite their current positions, Kismet felt more pressured now than ever before, his countenance practically oozing desperation. Sure, he'd managed to reverse his fortunes and disable the HUMAN...

But now what? He couldn't count on it being permanent. Bouncing back was Rob's thing. If Kismet didn't strike while the iron was hot, he might never find this opportunity again.

{BEHIND!}

This time, Rob was prepared. He activated Purge Divinity and covered the surface of his body in a sheen of Purging energy. It burnt away the mana that Kismet had been attempting to infuse him with, preventing it from worsening his Soul Instability to fatal levels.

Alert: Your soul is attempting to stabilize. Please survive.

Rob felt a fraction of control return to his muscles. Slowly, he pushed his lips up into a mocking grin. He'd gotten extremely lucky just now, as with his degree of Soul Instability, there'd been no guarantee of Purge Divinity successfully activating...but Kismet didn't know that. All the god saw was his golden opportunity slipping through his fingers, the HUMAN somehow untouchable in spite of being prone and helpless.

Kismet went still and motionless. His hesitation lasted an instant in real time, and an eternity in their subjective, Quick Thinking-enhanced perception of reality. The god seemed to consider a variety of different factors: Almighty Resistance, Dauntless Reprisal, Lifesurge, Rob's vast HP pool, and how long it would take to gather the mana necessary for powerful spells. His expression morphed from calculating, to pensive, to outright unnerving, darkening with a vicious intent.

And then he turned away.

Rob's heart dropped to the pit of his stomach. NO NO NO! He tried to force out his voice, say something to taunt Kismet, but all that came out was a choked gurgle. Rampage – he thought, only for Soul Instability to rear its ugly head and cause the Skill to fail.

There was nothing he could do except watch as Kismet formed a spell and unleashed it upon Riardin's Rangers.

The magic took shape – and Rob froze, relief and confusion flowing through him in equal measures. Rather than conjuring the divine spear rainstorm from before, which would've slaughtered at least half the Party, Kismet had instead surrounded them in skintight prisons of energy. That wasn't ideal, as evidenced by how Riardin's Rangers fell to the ground screaming, but their shared Almighty Resistance would keep them alive for now.

Alert: Your soul is in the midst of stabilizing. Please survive.

His confusion persisted until he noticed Kismet's sightless gaze flickering towards Vul'to. The god had wanted to avoid a repeat of the Soul Guardian's earlier heroics, when Our Shield combined with Not A Scratch protected his allies from certain death. Not A Scratch could only nullify a single instance of damage, and these mana-prisons were continuous.

Better to play it safe and ensure that Riardin's Rangers were immobilized. Kismet's cohorts could handle the rest.

Rob struggled in vain, still unable to move as the seven lesser gods loomed over their fallen adversaries like vultures circling around wounded gazelles. Kismet had enough opportunity to cast another spell, but he just observed everyone, his face unreadable.

"You've done it, Kismet!" one of the gods crowed. It glared at Zamira's trembling form with a savage, predatorial glee, ready to exact vengeance for the numerous Aura Blade scars she had inflicted on its body. "We have finally–"

The god's head dissolved.

Despite losing its mouth, the deity screamed with a voice that resounded across the divine realms. Its terrified cries continued even as the rest of its physique dissolved as well, starting from the neck, then chest, moving down until the god's entire body had separated into a cloud of mana particles.

Six more screams rose up to join it. The lesser gods all rapidly melted away before Rob's eyes, their lamentations mingling to compose a symphony of terror and anguish. A few faint pleas were mixed in there too, asking '"Why" and "Help" – as if that would save them.

They were afforded the same mercy that they'd granted to countless other mortals who had prayed for a salvation that never came.

By this point, after nearly a year in Elatra, it took a lot to leave Rob awestruck. He'd pretty much seen it all. But when the lesser gods' mana rushed over to Kismet, coalescing into an immense orb floating above his head, the HUMAN found himself feeling shocked to his very core.

"Worthless." Kismet stared up at the gods' collected mana with a sharp glare of disdain. "What wretched, inadequate creatures you are. You simply needed to slay one of Rob's Party members – just one. We would have steadily overtaken them afterwards. Yet you have the audacity to lose to mere Combat Class users while I've been holding this...this ascendant abomination at bay?"

He raised his hands. Rob flinched as the orb began pulsating with tremendous, unfathomable power.

"Not to worry." A line split across Kismet's face, like a manic, ear-to-ear grin. "I've thought of a far more valuable use for your essence."

{Soul Burn,} Leveling High whispered.

Rob's eyes widened as the gods' mana blazed with an all-consuming light. He'd only ever felt this once before – during the Attunement vision where The Cataclysm broke Elatra. This amalgamation of divinity was on par with that. If Kismet chose, he could have reduced the world to dust and still had energy left to spare.

Instead, this second Cataclysm was being aimed at a single HUMAN.

I suppose I should feel flattered.

Alert: Your soul is gradually stabilizing. Please survive.

With laborious effort, Rob stood up. That was about the extent of what he could muster. Forget running or dodging – a passing breeze would've knocked him over.

And he had maybe one second before Kismet drowned him in apocalyptic mana.

Quick as lightning, Rob mentally ran through his options. Rampage to dodge...not remotely fast enough. Dauntless Reprisal...couldn't block all of it. Kismet's attack was going to be continuous. Shield with Purge Divinity...wouldn't last. The Skill was better suited to attacking than defending.

Do I just need more power? Rob glanced at his hand, where a sliver of divinity had been held not long ago. He'd reached the point where he was willing to make distasteful compromises. If I Ascend–

{Impossible,} Leveling High snapped. {You were given a choice, and – despite my counsel – wholeheartedly rejected the very concept of Ascension. Do you think it so easy to shift one's subconscious mentality? Especially now that your Soul Instability has advanced to this state. With a soul that is hanging on by the thinnest thread, Ascending might tear us asunder.}

Rob grimaced. Fine. Got any better ideas?

{Flee to the mortal realms with Waymark.} Its static was buzzing with panic. {The leader god wouldn't dare destroy Elatra. He needs the mana contained therein.}

Rob glanced at Riardin's Rangers. They had fallen unconscious. Partially because of Kismet's binding prisons – and partially because of the God-Orb's oppressive aura of power, so heavy that it was like a mountain pressing down on the battlefield. If he Waymarked to safety, his Party would automatically disband due to the distance limit, removing their shared Almighty Resistance and exposing them to the noxious atmosphere of the divine realms.

To say nothing of what Kismet would do to them afterwards.

{Leave them. You cannot–}

My body is on the outs, Rob calmly explained. Just gonna get worse as time goes on. You really think I'll still be up for a Round 2 later today? Either we kill Kismet now...or never.

{That is a justification to avoid abandoning your allies.}

But am I wrong?

Leveling High had no answer to that.

Rob willed his body to move. He forced and pushed and fought with every last scrap of determination in his ruined soul. Slowly, the feeling in his muscles began to return.

Too slowly. The Orb was just about ready.

Alert: Your soul has almost finished stabilizing.

Rob breathed deep. His hands glowed with Purge Divinity. Compared to the Soul Burnt God-Orb, his light was but a flickering, insignificant candle.

Yet he still stepped forward.

Always forward.

Please.

Kismet's facsimile of a smile grew ever wider. His stolen mana shone bright as a dying star.

Survive.

Rob lifted his arms–

As a spear of lightning impaled Kismet from behind.

It honestly wasn't much. To a deity who'd traded blows with Rob, one lightning spear should have been no more than a mosquito bite. But to that same deity, who'd been repeatedly bit in the ass by unexpected occurrences and unknown Skills...

He felt a brief spark of alarm.

Who? How? Had Rob's allies devised yet another unforeseen ability? What if they were–

Before Kismet could stop himself, he whirled around. The divine ruler expected to find that one of Riardin's Rangers had broken free.

Only to freeze with surprise when he saw Seneschal Sylpeiros, barely standing upright.

Rob was just as surprised as Kismet. Truth be told, he'd forgotten that Sylpeiros was here. The Elf was never meant to journey to the divine realms in the first place. As someone who didn't have access to shared Almighty Resistance, he should've fallen unconscious a long time ago.

Yet he hadn't. Sylpeiros was exhausted, on his last legs, overlooked by both god and HUMAN...but still kicking. And with the last of his strength, he had unleashed an attack with such ferocity that it misled Kismet into believing it came from a Level 99 Combat Class user.

The Seneschal could only laugh as Kismet extended his hands and funneled destructive mana straight towards him. Sylpeiros didn't have the energy to dodge, nor did he try. Thankfully, Kismet's reprisal was so hastily-aimed – and further swayed by frustration – that it 'just' clipped the Elf's side, disintegrating his right arm.

Like a puppet with its strings cut, Sylpeiros collapsed. He locked eyes with Rob, mouthing quiet words that echoed with thunderous intent.

"Give them hell, Human."

Alert: Your soul has finished stabilizing! Soul Instability will remain High, but movement is now possible once more.

Rob didn't hesitate. He took off running, willing his legs to stop being lazy bastards and FUCKING MOVE. One shot. Kismet still preoccupied. Vulnerable to attack.

Can I kill him before he kills me?

Rob considered his Purge Divinity reserves – then regrettably decided that no, he couldn't. Although Kismet was somewhat wounded, the god wasn't on death's door. It would take too long to inject him with enough Purging energy to kill him, and that was if he didn't use some trick to escape. The God-Orb would descend well before then.

Ultimately, it was an easy decision to make. Rob simply chose the only option with any chance of survival. Ignoring the opening that Kismet was presenting, he leapt into the air, his skin prickling as he drew closer to the intense, scorching heat emanating from above.

PURGE–

He plunged his hand inside the Orb.

–DIVI–FFFUCKTHATHURTS!

Not for the first time, Rob felt his flesh stripped straight to the bone. The boiling essence of seven entrapped gods was perhaps a bit too spicy for Almighty Resistance to handle. Its mana cut right through his resistances – just as an impossibly sharp sensation cut through Rob's built-up pain tolerance. A less-seasoned veteran would have reflexively extracted what was left of their arm, and then tumbled to the ground, sobbing.

Rob didn't budge. His Elatran travails had prepared him for this moment. After the Attunement visions, severe Corruption poisoning, Ragnavi's Annihilation, Soul Instability, multiple flayings and decapitations...what was one more type of pain? He merely needed to follow the creed of all like-minded lunatics who extolled Vitality as their stat of choice.

When in doubt: endure.

Clenching his jaw so hard that his teeth cracked, he activated Purge Divinity before his arm was erased entirely. Energy flowed out from his body and into the Orb.

The effect was immediate and apparent. Voices screeched in fresh agony as the God-Orb's surface undulated like churning magma. Cracks split open, and mana poured out as he peered up at the crimson moon, wondering why it seemed closer than usual–

Rob forcibly pulled himself out of the vision, his head spinning from mental whiplash. Even then, he kept Purge Divinity going, never faltering for an instant. All distractions – from Kismet's shouting, to the gods' wailing, to the sight of his friends lying still – were fed into the furnace of his rage, used as fuel to keep his arm steady.

Remnant souls burst out again and again. He was a winged creature soaring under a sky of falling meteors. He was a denizen of the deep sea clutching his throat as the oceans filled with poison. He was a glassy-eyed mother holding tiny, well-dressed skeletons. He was a beloved sovereign watching his pantheon of nations crumble to dust. He was a starving pauper witnessing the end of everything, wondering why they'd ever bothered fighting to survive. He was, he was, he was, he was...

He was Rob – yet in that ethereal moment, he was everyone. Through his Purging hands, he carried out the will of innumerable people and societies ended by cosmic whims.

The God-Orb began vibrating faster. Kismet was trying to detonate it, but control had already been wrested from his grasp. The HUMAN spoke, and with unintelligible words that were a mishmash of overlapping dead languages, he pronounced the final judgement of seven gods.

"~ //// #### {{}} \\\\ *** <<>>".

I only wish this hurt you more.

Blinding light covered the divine realms.

--

Rob experienced nothing.

At all. He saw, heard, smelt, and felt nothing. The world had been reduced to a void bereft of sensation.

If not for Leveling High screeching in his mind, he might have assumed he was dead. Its grating static dragged him back to awareness. And much like animals are born knowing how to breathe, Rob's very first act upon awakening was instinctual.

Lifesurge.

Upon opening his regrown eyes and taking stock of his surroundings, his second act was to feel grateful that the God-Orb's destruction had knocked him unconscious. Pain tolerance was all well and good, but it was prooobably for the best that he'd missed out on his body being scoured by erupting divine essence.

He was pretty sure that only his brain had been left afterwards.

"You killed them."

The sound of a familiar voice instantly snapped Rob to attention. Fortunately, it appeared that he'd only been out cold for a second or two, as Kismet hadn't yet recovered from his shock and taken advantage of the situation. The last living deity was too busy gazing up at where the God-Orb used to reside, as if staring would make it pop back into existence.

"They were fools," he muttered. "Shortsighted, indolent, antiquated...even so, they were still eternal. Their mana has persisted across a breadth of time that defies comprehension. And you killed them. A mortal killed them."

"DoES thAT SuRPRIse YoU?" Rob asked, his voice causing a rift to open up nearby.

Kismet tilted his head.. "I suppose not," he answered, after a moment of silence. "What does surprise me, however, is that you have deigned to speak. What brought on this change?"

Because I just checked my Purge Divinity stores and decided that stalling so it can refill is the way to go. "I'm KEEPING YoU COMPANY. FIguReD yoU'd FEEL LONELY. 'CauSE ALL yoUR fRieNDs ARE DEAD."

"How magnanimous. Do you know what I believe, though?" Glacial lights flared in the space where a human's eyes would be. "If you still possessed even an ounce of that vile energy, you would have charged the second you awoke. The fact that you haven't means your reserves are running dry."

Rob smirked at having his bluff called. Purging a dense God-Orb right as it was about to explode had been...difficult. It'd required more energy than Purging the seven gods under normal circumstances. He wasn't entirely spent, but killing Kismet with what few drops remained seemed highly unlikely.

"I am going to relish wiping that mirth off your face." Kismet drew himself up, his form swelling with power and anticipation. "You haven't yet realized the severity of your predicament – so allow me to enlighten you. Without the ability to Purge, you cannot harm me. Not in any significant manner. All your monstrous power shall be for naught."

The god leaned forward, his false eyes shining with glee, as if he couldn't wait to say what was on his mind. "Furthermore...that power has stopped growing, yes? I haven't sensed it climb to new heights for some time now. You have reached your peak, whereas I may still sup on mana leaking from the rifts that you've so helpfully provided. Soon enough, my might will surpass yours. Or perhaps your body will fall apart first? Don't think I haven't noticed that as well. Lastly, now that you have lost the capacity to Purge, I no longer need worry that your presence will collapse the divine realms. I am free to bide my time as your body and soul wither to nothing."

Kismet spread his arms wide. "You fought well, mortal – but the battle is done. At long last, you are outmatched."

Rob chuckled.

It wasn't even on purpose. While he would've laughed to mess with Kismet anyway, regardless of how he was feeling, his reaction was completely natural.

"OOOOH NOOOO," Rob drawled, layering his tone with enough sarcasm to suffocate an elephant. "I'M OUTMATCHED? IN A FIGHT AGAINST AN ALL-POWERFUL ABOMINATION? GEE, THAT'S NEVER HAPPENED BEFORE."

Really, was he supposed to be intimidated? This was just another Tuesday in Elatra. It had been fun to run wild for a bit and put the BERSERK in BERSERKER, but in a sick sort of way, he felt more at home like this. Back to the wall, with no clear win condition in sight.

He could already feel the creative juices starting to percolate.

Searching for inspiration, Rob swept his gaze across the battlefield. It was a sobering view. Riardin's Rangers and Sylpeiros were lying still; so motionless that he could've mistaken them for dead if not for the slow rise and fall of their chests.

Without their efforts, he wouldn't be standing here right now. Purging the God-Orb had been a near thing. If Riardin's Rangers hadn't killed one god and softened up the others before Kismet 'collected' them, Rob would've run out of Purging energy and just straight-up died. And he never would've gotten the chance to destroy the Orb without Sylpeiros' diversion. Seriously, what kind of madman decided that ambushing a literal deity was a smart idea?

Rob gave them all a grateful nod. Riardin's Rangers and Sylpeiros didn't have Purge Divinity or impossibly high stats – and they'd still contributed more than should ever be expected of fighters without system-warping Skills, even Level 99 ones. His allies had gone above and beyond the call of duty.

The rest was up to him.

Time for a stress test. He dashed forward, fists clenched. Kismet warily examined him, waiting to see if the HUMAN would pull out a hidden reserve of Purging energy.

When that didn't happen, the god stood his ground and prepared one spell in each hand. The first will be an emergency escape, Rob inferred. The second...well, he probably wants to run a stress test of his own.

There were no tricks or falsehoods. Neither combatant made any attempt to dodge. Divine magic seared mortal flesh, and titanic Strength collided with the formless mana-body of a god.

Two tremendous claps of noise filled the divine realms, accompanied by a shockwave that sent both Rob and Kismet flying back. The HUMAN landed on his feet, while the god briefly vanished before reappearing in an upright position, seeming unruffled by their exchange.

"Your energy truly has run dry." Kismet sounded on the verge of breaking out into maniacal laughter. "Oh, what revelry this shall be."

Rob rolled his one good eye – the other was still Regenerating. Prick keeps aiming for my face. Kismet was gloating again, so he tuned out the god's ramblings and focused on analyzing his options. What have I learned? Without Purge Divinity, how much damage does a no-frills punch inflict?

Very little. Although Rob had hoped for a dent, he'd mostly just scuffed the god's paint. Raw, unadorned Strength simply wasn't efficient at damaging creatures of mana – especially not one as indescribably powerful as Kismet.

In that case...

Exhaling, he closed his eyes, shutting out all external stimuli. Kismet's blathering immediately quieted as he evaluated Rob's abrupt change in behavior. The god was presumably trying to determine whether this was a ploy to lure him in, but his caution was wasted. Rob merely wanted full concentration and didn't care if he got sucker-punched.

What he chose next would decide the fate of a world. Two worlds, actually, if Kismet got vindictive and hopped over to Earth after depleting Elatra.

Quick Thinking.

Okay.

What paths to victory still remained?

It has to be fast. My body is struggling, and my Soul Instability is High. Kismet will win a battle of attrition.

So that ruled out pummeling him for hours on end. Shame. Rob would've been fine with repeatedly scuffing Kismet's paint until the bits of damage added up and caused his mana-body to give out. Unless...

Zamira proved that a god can be slain through exceptional means. Malika would've unmade some of them as well if she hadn't been busy fixing rifts. Mana manipulation is the key. Can I hurt Kismet by imbuing my fists with mana?

Wasn't that easy, unfortunately. While Rob had boatloads of MP to spare, this was a matter of quality, not quantity. He lacked the fine precision of an Archmage, or...whatever anime powerup Zamira pulled at the end there. Covering his fists in mana might help, but it wouldn't guarantee victory.

If Riardin's Rangers awaken, we can band together to overpower Kismet. Strength in numbers – and teamwork.

It was a decent backup plan. Sadly, he couldn't control when they woke up. Could be soon, could be hours from now. Based on previous instances where his Party members had been forcefully knocked unconscious, the latter was more likely.

Besides – Rob didn't want plans that were just 'decent'. He wanted a silver bullet. Something that could annihilate Kismet in under a minute, if need be.

The stakes demanded no less.

A silver bullet...like Purge Divinity. Nothing else comes to mind. Nothing else is going to be as good, either. The Skills personally hand-crafted it to kill gods, and that process probably took them thousands of years. I shouldn't expect to cook up an equivalent in the eleventh hour.

Rob frowned. All of that made sense, but...

He wasn't satisfied with that line of thinking. When you have a hammer, every problem looks like a nail. Hmmm. While I can't blame myself for getting hung up on Purge Divinity, considering how vital it's been up until now, I might also be tunnel-visioned on the concept of a singular god-slaying ability.

That kind of over-centralized thinking often bled into other aspects of planning. In fact, when he'd assessed his other Skills earlier to see if any of them would be effective against Kismet, hadn't he dismissed them on the grounds that they wouldn't deal enough damage or accurately hit him at range?

As someone who'd learned a Skill called Rampage and primarily utilized it for maneuverability, he should've known better than that. Even when offensive abilities weren't perfectly suited for a situation, they could still be used in inventive ways.

Rob put on a wry grin as several new stratagems promptly came to mind. Guess I'll never be a proper BERSERKER. Can't help but go back to my roots of planning weird nonsense.

Yeah. That felt right. So what if he'd lost his convenient touch-of-death win condition? If the gods didn't have a clear weakness to exploit, he just needed to make one – or magnify the vulnerabilities they already possessed.

Like their mindset. While the gods may be astronomically powerful, they're also batshit crazy and don't seem to realize it. From what I know, most of their problems are self-induced. Like, I'm hardly the most stable individual, but at least I'm not tormenting people and complaining when they fight back, or part of a pseudo-hivemind where ego death is encouraged, or...

...Incapable of breaking a vow.

A bolt of inspiration struck him. Then another, and another, until Rob had been assailed by an entire thunderstorm of interlocking ideas. He thought back to how the gods and Blights were mentally enslaved to their compulsions. He reflected on how they couldn't defy the rules of the system even when their own lives were at risk. He examined the battlefield and juxtaposed it with the actions Kismet had taken and hadn't taken thus far.

His breath caught in his chest. This was the silver bullet he'd been looking for. If his assumptions were correct – which was a BIG if – then it would win the battle in one fell swoop.

If he was wrong...it could do the exact opposite.

Fifty-fifty odds.

Rob opened his eyes, heartbeat quickening as excitement flowed through him. Against a creature on par with the Second Will, fifty-fifty was like winning the lottery.

"What manner of death would you prefer?" Kismet tittered. He was in no hurry to bring their duel to its conclusion, understanding full well that time was on his side. "Quick and painless, as to numb the sting of your failures? Or a glorious last stand fit for the history books? It also isn't too late to become a Skill, I might add. Join your friends in perpetual–"

There's my inroad. "KISMET," the HUMAN intoned."RULER OF THE DIVINE REALMS." He kept his voice low to prevent more rifts from opening, giving off the impression of some unknowable creature rumbling in the distance. "I PROPOSE A WAGER."

The god's mouth snapped shut. After a couple seconds of well-deserved suspicion, he hesitantly replied. "...Of what sort?"

Rob raised a hand and stretched out his fingers. "FIVE MINUTES." Theoretically he would only need one, but better safe than sorry. "IF I'VE YET TO GRIEVOUSLY WOUND YOU AFTER FIVE MINUTES HAVE PASSED, I WILL SUBMIT TO YOUR AUTHORITY AND BE REBORN AS A SKILL IN THE NEXT SYSTEM. THEN YOU'RE FREE TO TORTURE ME FOR ETERNITY OR WHATEVER GETS YOUR ROCKS OFF."

He closed his hand into a fist. "ANTI-LOOPHOLE CLAUSES: THE TIMER STARTS AFTER YOU AGREE TO MY TERMS. DURING THOSE FIVE MINUTES, YOU ARE NOT ALLOWED TO FLEE FARTHER THAN YOU ALREADY HAVE AT ANY POINT IN TODAY'S BATTLE. 'GRIEVOUSLY WOUND' IS DEFINED AS YOU HAVING EXTREME DIFFICULTY CONTINUING TO MOVE OR FIGHT."

"I...see. And what is so important that you would gamble your soul? What do you desire in exchange? "

"THREE BOONS. FIRST – IF I WIN, YOU ANSWER ONE QUESTION OF MINE. SECOND – YOU HEAL MY ALLIES' INJURIES AND ROUSE THEM FROM SLUMBER, WITH NO COMPLICATIONS OR ADVERSE TAMPERING."

Rob cracked his knuckles. "AND THIRD – YOU SIT STILL FOR A WHILE AS I BEAT YOUR FUCKING FACE IN."

Kismet said nothing. Rob could practically hear the gears turning in the god's head. His victory was all but assured, and capturing the HUMAN's soul would be the cherry on top of a complete and total triumph.

However, he also recognized that Rob wouldn't be making this bet without an ace up his sleeve.

"How do I know you won't go back on your word?" Kismet's tone was laden with doubt. "Mortals are not bound to oaths, and you are, technically, still a mortal."

"I OFFER MY PARTY MEMBERS' LIVES AS COLLATERAL."

There was a long stretch of silence. "You're serious," the god marveled.

"YUUUP." Rob jerked a thumb at his friends' unconscious bodies. "HOVER SOME SPEARS NEAR 'EM. WON'T STOP YOU. ALTHOUGH I'M ADDING A STIPULATION THAT YOU CAN'T HARM THEM UNLESS EITHER I BREAK OUR DEAL, OR FIVE MINUTES PASS."

Kismet scrutinized him with a look of disbelief. Rob's poker face worked overtime as he faked being unperturbed, returning the god's searching gaze with a laconic, half-lidded stare.

Eventually, greed won out over prudence. "I accept all your terms." Kismet pointed his hands at Riardin's Rangers. Dozens of floating mana spears materialized above their unmoving forms, ready to plunge down at a moment's notice. Kismet kept an eye on Rob throughout, as if expecting him to rush forward in defense of his Party, but the HUMAN merely waited patiently for the god to finish.

Inwardly, Rob was celebrating. 'You can't harm my friends until five minutes have passed' was a steal of a deal. Without Purge Divinity as a threat, he wasn't confident that he would've been able to prevent Kismet from using Riardin's Rangers as hostages. 'You are not allowed to flee farther than you already have at any point in today's battle' was even more necessary. It meant that Kismet couldn't fuck off to a distant corner of the divine realms and wait out the clock.

The rest of Rob's terms had essentially been a smokescreen to slip those two stipulations through. While he wouldn't turn down free healing for his friends or the opportunity to treat the divine ruler like a punching bag, his requested 'boons' were inconsequential compared to limiting Kismet's options.

It gave him the chance to put his real plan into action.

One chance, specifically. Rob held no delusions that there might be a second. What he had in mind would rely heavily on the element of surprise. If it didn't work on the first try...or if his assumptions about Kismet's nature were incorrect...

Game over.

How many trillions of lives were about to be decided in the next few seconds? Countless civilizations of the present and the future, their survival somehow dependent on a half-baked scheme conjured up by a guy so absurdly enraged that he was cracking reality. Shit, the only reason he was even here was because he'd pushed Jason out of the way when the gods tried to nab him all those months ago. His one small action had kicked off a cascading domino effect with repercussions beyond human comprehension.

Rob couldn't begin to fathom that scale of responsibility – so he didn't bother. Stressing himself would just make him hesitate. Bit by bit, he pared away the overwhelming grandiosity of the situation, reducing its scope until he saw Kismet for what the eternal, cosmic deity truly was:

Just another asshole that needed to be put in the dirt.

"The five minutes have begun." Kismet prepared what was almost definitely a teleport spell, ready to flee at the first sign of danger. "Please execute whatever ill-fated endeavor you have planned before time runs out. I wouldn't want to miss seeing your bravado shrivel into despair."

"WELL, I COULD PRETEND TO CHASE YOU AROUND FOR A BIT, LULL YOU INTO A FALSE SENSE OF SECURITY...BUT NAH."

Rob flicked his wrist. "LET'S START THINGS OFF WITH A–"

BANG.

The explosive conflagration of Living Bomb surrounded him.

--

Kismet was left stunned, watching in confused silence as Rob detonated his Skill. While Living Bomb's area of effect was quite large, the HUMAN wasn't even remotely nearby. All it did was create a destructive sphere in the middle of the divine realms...that affected absolutely nothing.

Is this some sort of ruse? The explosion did serve to obscure Rob from view. Perhaps he was laying in wait, hoping to catch Kismet unawares by suddenly bursting out from within the heat and flames.

A fool's errand, if so. Kismet could sense Rob's mana at the center of Living Bomb's radius. The instant that he charged forth, the god would choose a faraway location and swiftly teleport to safety. Kismet was tempted to do so right now, but Rob had exhibited the ability to predict where teleportation spells would end up if used too early, so reacting to his aggression seemed more sensible.

Moments went by. Kismet held fast, regarding the explosive sphere like a hawk observing grass for signs of movement. He felt zero trepidation, confident that forbearance would win the day. If Rob took no action, then Living Bomb would dissipate and be placed on a hefty cooldown. If Rob elected to attack, Kismet would be ready to respond. And even in the event that the HUMAN somehow executed a successful ambush...

What would it achieve? His reserves of that hateful energy had been exhausted. Without it, he was little better than a rampaging brute – one so arrogant that he believed Kismet hadn't seen past his meager attempts at subterfuge. In fairness, limiting a foe's actions through negotiation was marginally clever, but only if Rob could back up his cleverness with power. Enough power to cripple an entity of supreme divinity within five minutes.

He would've been hard-pressed to do that even with his Purging energy. His bravado had accomplished nothing except consigning him to a miserable eternity in the system, damning the HUMAN forevermore. A hundred years from now, he would be regretting not letting his soul crumble to pieces.

It was still possible that Rob might try to renege on his side of the bargain, yet his friends were ever his weakness, and Kismet held their lives in the palm of his hand. The HUMAN's behavior was predictable when it came to this matter. He would acquiesce. His soul would be imprisoned and preserved. And lastly, his suffering would finally commence.

Oh, yes. He would suffer for a very long time.

Just then – movement. Rob's mana signature was rushing through Living Bomb's radius. By now the Skill's roaring flames had simmered, leaving only a cloud of thick smoke behind.

Kismet teleported. It was done on reflex, his spell activating immediately after he sensed motion. He'd chosen a position safely away from Rob's mana, and his reaction was flawlessly-timed, performed so quickly that it surpassed instinct and bordered on precognition.

Which meant he was afforded just the tiniest sliver of an instant to notice that something was wrong.

When his teleport completed, Kismet's gaze instantly snapped towards Rob's mana signature. What was–

Rob broke free of Living Bomb's smoke cloud.

Or rather, his severed arm did. Bearing the HUMAN's mana.

Its middle finger was raised.

Kismet didn't have time to feel shocked. He was too busy being distracted. First over how Rob had cut off his own arm, and next upon realizing that the HUMAN had done so as a feint, using his limb's mana signature to emulate a forward charge and trigger the god's teleport.

He was still processing both of those when a third distraction came in the form of a crate of Firebombs detonating in his face.

The god sputtered, uninjured but growing increasingly perplexed. That crate had exploded a fraction of a second after he'd finished teleporting. Almost as if – Rob predicted where I would be. Threw the crate right after the arm. No, wait, that's of no importance, where is–

He detected the HUMAN's mana inside Living Bomb's radius. Kismet unleashed a flurry of divine energy at him, clearing the smoke...and revealing two severed legs left behind as decoys.

A peal of manic laughter nearly burst free from the god's torso. How many layered distractions was that, now? Five? Even that thought itself could be counted as a sixth. It certainly made Kismet react a fraction slower as he expanded Sense Mana once again, searching in a direction that – until this moment – hadn't been necessary.

Up.

Kismet raised his head to find the Lifesurge-healed HUMAN barreling down from above. How – a dagger clutched in his hand, Waymark's lingering energy attached to it. That was the reason for all these diversions. He'd used misdirection to shift Kismet's focus, preventing him from spotting the Waymark dagger tossed into the air.

Even so, and even with Rob pulling out what was likely every minor artifice left in his repertoire...it wouldn't have been enough. Kismet noticed what was happening a hair too soon. He still had time to dodge, and there were no distractions remaining.

Except.

The BERSEKER's face.

Kismet – to put it mildly – had lived far longer than most. He'd seen worlds rise and fall, stars form and die, and galaxies slowly turned to dust by the inexorable march of entropy. Over the course of his travels through the unending void, he had encountered just one thing that genuinely frightened him:

The #@$&@#()$. Known to mortals as the Blight. His loathsome opposites that could erase him from existence. While plenty of would-be heroes had risen to oppose him on the worlds he visited, and a handful may have been slightly impressive, none came close to inspiring that level of pure, unfiltered dread as the #@$&@#()$.

Until...

Until today, when...

H-he had...

He had LEARNED...

What it meant to be prey.

To be chased. On and on. Death constantly nipping at his heels. More inexorable than entropy itself. Ruthless. Hungry.

Smiling.

So when Kismet peered up to see Rob's face rapidly closing in...the god's fate was sealed. Just as rabbits knew to fear a bloody maw of fangs, Kismet had already been instilled with a primal terror of that wide, tooth-filled grin. As if it wanted nothing more than to open up, lean forward, and bite. Down.

It was the final distraction needed. Rob crash-landed on Kismet, and with his right hand, slammed the deity onto the ground. With his left hand, he called upon the few dregs that remained of Purge Divinity, then struck. Not at the god, but at the air–

Tearing open a rift directly next to them. The boundless mana of the system resided within.

Kismet could only scream as his head was forced through.

--

For beings descended from the Original Will, oaths were sacrosanct.

Rob had witnessed it on many occasions. Whenever the gods made a vow or established a law, it was transcribed onto their mentality – like compulsions so powerful that they became physical imperatives. It didn't matter if they lamented their choices down the line, either. Their word was their bond, now and always.

Elatra would've been royally screwed otherwise. The main reason Riardin's Rangers had lasted this long was because of the gods' self-imposed restrictions.

While they hadn't divulged all the gory details, between Kismet's occasional frustrated rambling, and the Skills sharing insider info, Rob gradually pieced together a picture of their millennia-old mistakes. At the onset of Elatra's creation, the gods had enacted certain rules to ensure a fair competition amongst themselves...only for those rules to endanger them when legitimate threats popped up later on.

And they were helpless to change that fact. In spite of how urgently the gods wanted to, they could not alter the vast majority of Elatra's system. Even in order to save their own lives.

How curious, then, that Kismet seemed to be doing exactly that.

Rob would've realized it sooner if he hadn't been juggling the stress of high-speed combat, two worlds' worth of responsibilities, his failing body, and a BERSERKER rage. Kismet was strengthening himself by absorbing ambient mana leaking from the rifts. It was how the god had managed to keep up so far. But...didn't that go against what was allowed? He shouldn't have been able to reclaim mana that the gods had invested into the system's framework – not yet, anyway.

Kismet's other actions also supported that theory. Rob could recall a moment where the god had anxiously retreated from a rift that appeared inches away from him. He clearly couldn't just reach inside and start feasting on free mana.

The only explanation was a good ole' fashioned loophole. If Rob was to hazard a guess: once mana leaked out from a rift, it technically stopped being part of the system framework, and was thus fair game. That sounded like it skirted the edge of whatever laws Kismet had enacted, but he'd gotten away with it so far.

'Sounded like'...'hazard a guess'...it was a shame that Rob didn't have a codified copy of the gods' rulebook. He was fumbling in the dark at this point. A few unknown words might be all that separated victory from ruination.

Yet he felt no apprehension whatsoever as he shoved Kismet's head through the freshly-carved rift. Elatra had turned Rob into something of a gambling man, and this was a bet he was itching to take. From what he'd learned, the gods were rigorous when enacting laws – they tended to cover their bases.

Including contingencies for if one of them tried to cheat.

Rob's perception of time, still influenced by Quick Thinking, had never felt slower. Milliseconds crawled by as he waited for Kismet to react. The god had made contact with the system's underlying mana. Would he be able to access it because he hadn't willingly stuck his head in, using a loophole to grow his power to cataclysmic heights...

Or had the gods restricted access to the system framework regardless of intent? Was the attempt itself considered a violation, no matter the circumstances? If so, how would Kismet be penalized? Would his penalty be even harsher because of the leaked mana he'd already absorbed?

What happened when a creature of structured, intransigent divinity was forced to contradict its very nature?

Question after question surfaced within Rob's mind – and all were answered when Kismet's body began to invert.

That was the closest way Rob could think of to describe what he was witnessing. The god's mana rippled, shivered, folded inward, shunted outwards, solidified, liquefied, solidified again, bloomed with vibrant color, went black as the void, and much, much more. Changes occurred that did not yet exist in the English language. His form ceased to conform to any semblance of rhyme or reason, transmuting into everything and nothing; a pastiche of reality's byproducts.

Rob's breathing grew haggard. Tears welled up, blurring his vision. The HUMAN's eyes vibrated painfully the longer he watched, as if he was staring directly into a solar eclipse while thousands of microscopic needles jabbed into his pupils.

It was the most wondrous sight he had ever beheld.

His grip slackened, but Kismet made no move to escape. The god was practically drowning in sensations, scarcely able to think, waterboarded by the weight of an entire world's mana. His screaming rose higher, reaching a torturous zenith – before abruptly cutting out. The silence felt disarming in how jarring it was.

Moments later, Kismet's body exploded into particles of mana. Rob felt little surprise as he watched the god quickly reform a short distance away. Kismet had used this same maneuver to flee once earlier, like a lizard detaching its tail.

That comparison looked even more appropriate now. Kismet's body reformed...yet his head did not. It had been left behind – devoured by the system's mana.

Gods didn't necessarily need their heads to function, but the change could be felt on a pragmatic level as well. Sense Mana indicated that Kismet's overall quantity of essence and power had sharply reduced. In addition to his lost appendage, some of his mana seemed to have been forcibly expelled from his body, likely removed as punishment for 'accessing' the system's framework too early.

His change in demeanor was just as apparent. The god barely seemed capable of standing, his limbs shaking like leaves in the wind. "What..." Kismet sluggishly raised an accusing finger to point at Rob, as if that small motion required great exertion. "What...have...you done?"

"MADE YOU DIVIDE BY ZERO."

He was tempted to say more, but they were on a timer. Rob took a single step forward.

"I yield!" Kismet cried out in a voice of utter desperation. "You have defeated me and prevailed in our wager! One question answered, healing for your friends, and inflicting physical violence upon me – I shall grant all three boons!"

Rob stopped to think for less than a second.

"NO."

Kismet froze. "No?" he asked, almost plaintively.

"WHAT CAN I SAY? I'M AN HONEST GUY." Rob bared his teeth. "WE'RE SUPPOSED TO FIGHT UNTIL I 'GRIEVOUSLY WOUND' YOU, DEFINED AS YOU 'HAVING EXTREME DIFFICULTY CONTINUING TO MOVE OR FIGHT'. I APPRECIATE HOW YOU'RE TRYING TO HAND ME AN EARLY WIN, BUT...COME ON, DUDE. YOU'RE A GOD! ONE MISSING HEAD IS NO BIG DEAL. YOU'VE STILL GOT SOME PEP IN YOUR STEP."

And as long as their wager hadn't ended, Kismet was still barred from retreating to a distant corner of the divine realms or harming Riardin's Rangers. He'd been trapped in a prison of his own making. It was fitting for a creature that – since the moment of its inception – had aimlessly traveled from one cage to the next, never quite able to find its place in the universe, letting opportunity after opportunity fall by the wayside.

Until now.

When the consequences of his immeasurable sins and failures had finally come knocking.

"BUCKLE UP, KISMET. IT'S GONNA BE A LONG FIVE MINUTES."

The god shrieked and fled. The BERSERKER laughed and hunted.

Their dance began anew – and ended just as swiftly. Rob didn't have any new strategies or diversions, but he didn't need them anymore. Kismet was so much weaker and slower that the HUMAN caught up to him in the blink of an eye.

He took savage pleasure in forcing the god's left arm into the next rift.

Screams. Sweet, sweet screams. Kismet was powerless to save himself, his form inverting once more. Every individual moment became a unique brand of torment, hurting in ways that no mortal could ever hope to comprehend. It felt as if his divinity was rejecting itself wholesale.

Destructive spells blasted back towards Rob, but the HUMAN didn't waste effort dodging. Kismet's magic washed over him like raindrops on stone. The god's total mana had fallen to record lows – even lower than the beginning of their fight, before he'd started draining his cohorts or absorbing leaked rift-mana. Putting up a token display of resistance was the best he could muster.

Soon enough, Kismet dispersed and reformed away from the rift. His arm was translucent, as if it belonged to a ghost, and his mana had plummeted yet again. The god cast a sightless gaze at Rob, somehow managing to appear pitiable despite his lack of face. "Please! I offer–"

Rob tackled Kismet and drove him to the ground. "FOUR. MINUTES. TO GOOOOO."

What followed was less of a hunt and more of a prolonged execution. While Rob couldn't stop Kismet from escaping the rifts, that just let him draw out the fun. He got a front-row seat to the god's steady degradation, each rift diminishing him further, consuming chunks of mana-body without mercy or remorse.

By the seventh rift, the deity was already a limbless shadow of his former self. Fragile, feeble, and frightened. Maybe he could have still recovered if left to his own devices, but Rob refused to give him the chance. Kismet didn't deserve to go out fighting. The last remnant of the Original Will, a consciousness that had spanned the breadth of existence itself...

Would die whimpering and afraid.

After the thirteenth rift, Rob decided that Kismet had finally had enough. The god's resplendent mana-body was now like a puddle of murky water, so thin and sickly-looking that it was difficult to believe he'd ever been divine. Any decent Elatran mage could have finished him then and there.

As Rob approached, the former god squirmed away from his assailant, the sound of methodical footsteps causing him to shiver with the dread of a noose being tied around his neck. The HUMAN knelt down next to him, hissing into whatever approximated as Kismet's ear. "HURTS, DOESN'T IT?"

"Please...offer..."

"I WONDER. IF YOU ADDED UP ALL THE PAIN YOU'VE INFLICTED ON OTHERS...HOW DOES THIS STACK UP? DOES IT EQUAL A FRACTION OF A FRACTION OF WHAT YOU'VE WROUGHT?"

A hollow laugh bubbled up from his chest. "I DOUBT IT. ONE TORTURE SESSION IS JUST A DROP IN AN OCEAN OF DEAD WORLDS. THE SCALES AREN'T EVEN CLOSE TO BALANCED."

Rob channeled a fragment of Purge Divinity into one finger, then kneaded it into Kismet's body like a cigarette burn. "MY ONLY REGRET IS THAT I CAN'T KEEP YOU ALIVE UNTIL YOUR DEBTS ARE PAID IN FULL."

"I'm...sorry..."

"SURE. BECAUSE YOU LOST. SELF-SERVING PIECE OF..."

Rob shrugged. "AH, WELL. YOU ARE WHAT YOU ARE." He leaned closer. "I'D SAY THIS QUALIFIES AS 'GRIEVOUSLY INJURED', YEAH?"

The Kismet-puddle quivered. Rob chose to interpret that as a nod.

"THEN THAT MAKES ME THE OFFICIAL WINNER OF OUR BET." He gestured towards Riardin's Rangers and Sylpeiros. "FIRST BOON: FIX THEM. PRONTO."

While Kismet was extremely diminished, it didn't take much mana to rouse unconscious Combat Class users who'd already been patched up by shared Regeneration. Flecks of divine energy fell onto them. Riardin's Rangers began to stir, and color returned to Sylpeiros' deathly skin pallor as his arm regrew.

Rob relaxed, some of the tension in his gut uncoiling. "ALRIGHT. SECOND BOON: ANSWER THIS QUESTION. AFTER I KILL YOU HERE, IS THERE ANY CHANCE OF YOU, OR ONE OF THE OTHER GODS, OR A NEW GOD COMING TO LIFE?" There might be complications from not using only Purge Divinity to win. The Second Will hadn't revived even though Ragnavi got the last hit on it, but Rob just wanted to be sure.

"...No..." Kismet's voice was rasping and weak. "Our essence...and consciousness...are depleted. Mana will cycle...into...the system...without sapience."

"FANTASTIC." Rob rolled his shoulders. "THIRD BOON."

He brought his fist down on Kismet.

The god let out a pathetic croak. It was the kind of noise a creature made when they were in too much pain to properly express how badly things hurt. He'd lost enough mana that Rob's non-enhanced punch nearly ended him, so the HUMAN pulled back his strength, ensuring that his subsequent blows injured without killing.

A feverish, hysterical emotion rose up within him as he struck Kismet again, and again, and again, and again, and AGAIN. Riardin's Rangers had woken up and were calling out to him with worry, yet Rob ignored them and kept punching. He knew it would be smarter to finish off Kismet right away, but...he needed this. He really, really fucking needed this. After working tirelessly to protect his friends, avenge worlds, and save Elatra...

This part was for him.

"LOOK AT WHAT YOU'VE DONE TO ME!" Punch. "MY BODY IS BREAKING, MY SOUL IS CRUMBLING, AND THERE'S A PSYCHO HIJACKING MY HEAD!" Punch. "I COULD HAVE HAD A FUTURE! BUT YOU JUST HAD TO RIP ME FROM MY HOME!" Punch. "YOU HAD TO PUT ME IN A WORLD THAT NEEDED HELP!" Punch. "YOU HAD TO MAKE IT SO THAT I COULDN'T STOP – NO MATTER WHAT!" Punch. "YOU–"

Kismet waved a tendril of mana. "Hush."

Leveling High's static went silent.

Rob froze mid-punch. He stared down at Kismet's beleaguered form with a look of astonishment. The diminished deity alternated between chuckling and wincing with pain, as if even laughing hurt too much right now.

"A brief...respite," he explained. "Leveling High will...soon return. But I...wanted to speak...with you. The unvarnished Rob."

"YOU ALREADY WERE. EVERYTHING I JUST SAID CAME FROM ME." He paused. "YOU CAN SEAL LEVELING HIGH THAT EASILY?"

"Naturally. Humanity was...my creation. Mine alone to do with as I see fit. Direct access to Leveling High was never one of my restrictions – I could have sealed it at any time."

As he spoke, a bit of vigor entered his tone. "Do you wish for me to seal it permanently? To save you?"

Rob sighed. "SHOULD'VE INCLUDED THAT AS A BOON, I GUESS."

"If you'd tried, I would have spurned your wager."

Upon seeing Rob's confused expression, Kismet chuckled once more. "Don't you understand? I would not have accepted the slightest possibility of you being freed from this curse. I despise you, Rob. I yearn for your suffering. Kidnapping you was the worst decision I've made in a thousand thousand lifetimes."

His form seemed to boil with fury. "It goes beyond all the plans you've ruined, or how so many years of existence have met an ignominious end. No – your very presence is offensive. Warping. Corruptive. If we'd fought one year prior, the Kismet of back then would've chosen to begrudgingly merge with the other gods. I'd have set aside my personal desires in order to achieve a necessary victory."

A guttural sound of resentment tore out of him. "But ever since I met you...nothing has been the same. My mistakes have multiplied. Cold logic is overruled by deleterious passion. When I look at you, a cavalcade of emotions immediately start plaguing my mind. It's like I was dreaming a long slumber of complacent, monotonous ennui, and then awoke into a world filled with doubts, uncertainty, and excitement."

The fallen god sat up, two pinpricks of light materializing onto its body, as if creating eyes with which to glare at Rob. "It wasn't worth it. You have stained me with your individuality."

Rob blinked, opening and closing his mouth. What the hell was someone supposed to say to that?

"I shall state this clear – a vow made from the bottom of my soul. I will never free you from Leveling High. Let this be your curse until your dying days. Let it lay waste to all you hold dear. Comprehend the depths of your despair and choke on it."

Kismet was practically panting by the end, his voice laden with vicious glee. He seemed to be anticipating whatever look of anguish would appear on Rob's face.

"...REPEAT AFTER ME: THERE IS NO WAY FOR MORTALS TO NON-LETHALLY REMOVE LEVELING HIGH."

The god's mana-body went perfectly still. It stayed quiet.

"WHAT'S THE PROBLEM?" Rob narrowed his eyes. "YOU SAID THAT YOU WOULDN'T REMOVE LEVELING HIGH – NOT THAT THERE WAS NO WAY AT ALL. WHY CAN'T YOU REPEAT THAT STATEMENT OUT LOUD? UNLESS...IT WOULD BE A LIE?"

Seconds passed.

Eventually, Kismet let out an aggrieved sigh. "Infuriating to the very end, I see."

The god's body suddenly surged with mana. He was about to Soul Burn himself, trading his life for one final act of retribution.

Rob was faster. The HUMAN reached down, tapping into the small amount of energy he had recovered. With a harsh motion of his hand–

Purge Divinity.

–Kismet ceased to be.

It was over.

His body had vanished, and his mana was gone. Not a trace remained.

Like he'd never been there at all.

It...was over.

The silence that followed sounded deafening, as if the universe itself was breathing a deep exhalation of relief. At long last, every remnant of the Original Will had perished. No more Blights or gods – just people stumbling their way through life.

Everyone was free.

Null Skill 'A Dialogue' Has Been Updated!

Description: Thank you.

Description: Thank you so, so much.

Description: Our savior.

Rob inclined his head to hide his embarrassment. Told you I'd–

He flinched as a familiar noise intruded upon the silence within his mind. Unfortunately, it looked like he wouldn't have any time to soak in his victory. Leveling High's static was already rising back up. Within the next few moments, it would be able to assert its influence on him again.

And now that they lacked a common enemy...

Rob's gaze whipped towards Riardin's Rangers. His Party had been left speechless. From their perspective, they'd fallen unconscious while seven gods were still alive – only to awaken to six dead deities and him pummeling the seventh into a fine paste.

The looks on their faces were priceless. Rob wished he could talk things out with everyone, exchange smiles and laughter...yet he knew what had to be done. It was a choice he'd made well before ever setting foot in the divine realms.

Alert: You have disbanded the Party!

Riardin's Rangers collectively gasped as they lost shared Almighty Resistance, exposing them to the divine realms' unfiltered atmosphere. Rob felt a little guilty about that, but they'd be fine for the couple hours it would take for the Fiend dimension mages to check on them. Besides, Malika needed to spend some time here fixing the rifts. Those weren't looking so hot.

One-by-one, realization dawned on his friends' expressions as they understood why he'd disbanded the Party. Before anyone could speak up, Rob grinned, waving goodbye.

"LOVE YOU GUYS. TAKE CARE."

{NO–}

Waymark.

And with that, he was gone.

--

Thanks for reading!