Chapter 1,268. (Patreon)

Happy Midsummer, Fellow Defiers! I hope you all have a great and not cult-murdery summer celebration! I'm sorry about the late release, I may have sampled an aquavit or two.

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Tavza tapped the eroded wall again, prompting a dark ripple to pass through the stone. It was gone as quickly as it appeared, though specks were trapped by the lingering spirituality. She studied the incomplete tapestry and wrote down notes in her small journal. The stubborn spots faded soon after, at which point Tavza took out an ancient tome.

She was certain they were dealing with [Lord's Glory], though it an enterprising Array Master had combined the battlement array with something else. After two days of searching, she'd finally found the final pieces of the puzzle on a piece of debris. Tavza's heart beat faster at the rush of uncovering another secret that was hidden in plain sight. The answers would only come to those who'd taken the time to learn the universal language of decay and time.

Tavza took out an ancient tome, flipping the pages to an image matching the crude blueprint she'd drawn in her notes. It was a [Twelve Day Reversal] array. To think they'd fused a Nature-attuned repair array with the defenses of a stone fortress. Was it lacking understanding? No, it had to be an act of desperation.

Turning walls into living stone that could recover on its own would greatly add to their resilience. Until it began to mutate. They'd understood as much, judging by the installed safeguards meant to delay the inevitable. The ancients did what they had to survive another day. It made Tavza's life harder, but it wasn't like the desperate warriors of the Limitless Empire had any obligation to consider her difficulties.

Tavza spent the next twenty minutes finalizing her schematic. The excitement of solving another puzzle let her forget her torment until a sudden movement triggered waves of agony. She couldn't prevent the slight gasp as she fought back against the growing waves of pain. Uroso Kavriel instinctively reached out to stabilize her, but his hand froze midway from the cold stares trained on him.

"Let's return," Tavza said.

The five deathsworn wordlessly set out, forming a vanguard that cut down the grabbing stone hands from the twisted walls around them. Tavza couldn't help but marvel at the scene. There really was nothing that could beat ancient ruins when it came to novelty. Where else could you find something like a castle that had become a hivemind homunculus? Only time and coincidence could birth something like this.

It took their group two hours to reach the temporary campsite they'd set up in a stabilized chamber. The living walls couldn't impugn on the small sanctuary, though standing inside felt like being stared at by hundreds of invisible enemies. The stifled atmosphere was no doubt why Usoro had begged to come along, even if his argument held merit.

The sudden betrayal by more than half the crew aboard the Riversee had left them sorely lacking in personnel. The medical bay had been especially hit, leaving Usoro as their most skilled healing Lich. He had no hope of helping with the problems ailing Tavza, but he could alleviate the pain if it became too much.

Surprisingly, Pizru had returned before they did. Seeing the new set of wounds across her captain's body, he must have pushed himself beyond what was safe or reasonable to accomplish his mission. Judging by his expression, it wasn't good.

"It's a failure, your grace," Pizru said. "Communications have been repaired, but the channels are empty. We could neither reach the outside nor Lord Sepravo."

Sepravo had dragged the two traitors off the Riversee before the Monarchs could destroy the ship, and the vessel had been swallowed by a spatial anomaly soon after. Even now, Tavza had no idea where they were.

It was regrettable for her followers, who desperately hoped to rejoin the comfort of the Empire's embrace. Tavza truthfully felt relieved. The Imperial Graveyard's isolation had sequestered her from the turmoil back home. Considering the full-blown mutiny she had to quell, Tavza didn't even want to know how it looked back home.

"We expected as much," Tavza said as she looked at the shimmering motes of light dancing around Pizru—a sign that Pizru held two pieces of a seal.

The number of seals her expedition had found over the past month was almost shocking, though most of the lights surrounding her crew members were much weaker. For whatever reason, the lights around Tavza were by far the densest, easily eclipsing the two others with completed seals. Her followers took it as a matter of course, while Tavza felt it held an important clue that yet eluded her.

Some of her subordinates believed her understanding of the Imperial Graveyard's natural formation was the cause. She knew better. Her study of the everchanging winds occasionally helped them avoid disaster, and her skill with ancient formations only became useful after they'd located what they sought. The plentitude of seals was something else.

It almost felt like the seals were throwing themselves in their path. Part of it was likely due to the trial drawing closer with unexpected speed. The other… Tavza's mind was once more drawn to the struggling figure overturning the convention, returning the delineated Dao to their origin. Was it Heaven's reciprocity for lending a helping hand? Or was his gratitude reshaping reality for her sake?

"Your grace?"

"It's nothing," Tavza said. "We'll have to leave it up to fate. We'll continue the mission no matter if we can contact the other ships or not. For now, help me install the key."

"Certainly, your grace," Pizru said and accepted a copy of her schematic.

Her subordinates had followed her since she was born and had been trained to assist in her archaeological pursuits since she displayed such interests. She wordlessly looked on as her guards engraved her key onto the tumorous stone, a feeling of loss joining the aching pain that had accompanied her since her brush with Chaos.

They didn't have identities until weeks ago. Even now, they lacked a surname. They were just tools raised to serve An'Azol, and these five were among those chosen among millions because they exhibited good results in the test arranged by the Ur'Mez patriarch. They would follow orders without complaint and die for the cause if need be. They were called an Honor Guard, but were they any different than slaves?

Tavza couldn't help but think back to Arcaz's reluctance whenever she broached him joining the Abyssal Shores, the disdain in his eyes toward established factions. Tavza was certain his followers would go just as far for his sake without the harsh methods of nurturing deathsworn. And while their actions would be the same, the weight and meaning would be diametrically different.

She knew it wasn't healthy how she'd begun questioning things since having her fate entangled with that man. Seeds of doubt had infiltrated the comforting certainty awarded by strength and birthright, just like the malignant tumors spreading through her personal abyss. Doubt was poison to one's path.

Tavza embraced the darkness, suffocating all distractions. Their short excursion had left her winded, and the pain would grow worse unless she performed repairs. Thousands of Abyssal runes throughout her body were restored or replaced, suppressing the festering wounds left by her brush with Chaos.

"All nodes are installed, your grace."

Tavza nodded, and twenty-eight array disks flew out of the small figurine fastened to her sash. They joined the engravings made by her subordinates, and the immense energies trapped within the walls began to flow in reverse. It was like time was turned back as the undomesticated formation returned to its natural state.

Layers of hardened stone sloughed off, exposing straight lines filled with purpose. The transformation only covered a few hundred meters of the cursed castle, and it was only a temporary shunt. Completely undoing a Natural Formation that had gathered energy for millions of years would take years of effort. Tavza only needed to mimic the effect for a few hours.

Waves of wailing wraiths teeming with resentment flooded out of the exposed pathway, their twisted faces a mockery of the stalwart defenders whose desperation had given them life. Their small group of elites had long since grown accustomed to the dangers lurking in the Imperial Graveyard, and there was no need for Tavza to join or supervise the battle.

"Good job," Tavza said after Pizru had returned to her side. "How is it?"

"I sense fate's pull, your grace," Pizru confirmed.

"As expected," Tavza said. "Record all markings and retrieve anything of note. I want to know how this fortress relates to the Hollow Court."

Pizru arranged a guard for Tavza before leading a squad into the catacombs. He would have to face another challenge, but Tavza was in no condition to assist. Reversing such a powerful formation, even only temporarily, had forced Tavza to draw upon her bloodline, aggravating her condition once more.

The suffering was a gift, in a sense. She only recently understood why she was drawn to the ancient past. It wasn't just the sense of discovery. It was because her world was stagnant. The Abyssal Shores, her clan, herself. They were all in a state of stagnation, perhaps even decay. Nothing had truly changed for hundreds of millions of years, and it had felt like nothing would change for millions more.

Her era was one that would be glossed over in the history books, and her generation's only accomplishment would be passing on the torch to future generations. Compared to that, the mysteries of the past seemed much more alluring. The pillar's ascent was supposed to have been the fresh wind of reinvention and adventure she'd been waiting for. Except, not everything is a fairy tale.

Witnessing the torrential winds of fate and history at the Abyssal Pond, she'd once more felt like a footnote in the history annals. Since then, she'd seen herself being pushed further and further onto the sidelines until it felt like she was barely part of history. Her pain was confirmation that wasn't true.

She'd clawed her way back. She would no longer be discovering history, nor would she witness it. She would be writing it. How could dusty tomes compare? For that, she needed to survive, and it didn't look good. Only he could wield Chaos. Only Arcaz could help her. Tavza prayed she could endure until they reunited.

The pillar couldn't come enough.

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The group of five navigated the enormous cracks that ran along the tower's length; a grievous wound opened during the cataclysmic battle between titans. They ignored the beckoning call of the countless cracked-open living spaces and storerooms they passed. Many no doubt held stowed-away riches, but there were enough real treasuries to keep them occupied until the deadline ten times over.

There were also dangers to consider. Zac detonating the energy channels and faith throughout the base had accidentally caused a genocide of the Qriz'Ul that had made the base their home. A few of the strongest ones had survived, though, and Ogras was in no mood to deal with an irate and wounded miscreation in his current state.

They'd only rested a few hours before setting out on their own sweep, picking up treasures from the rubble. Three days later, most were still showing clear signs of wear and tear. Thankfully, the few remaining Qriz'Ul stayed far from any sections exposed to the outside, like the deep scar they were currently following toward the next trove.

The two giants hadn't moved since they began forming the space gate, but their mere presence was the best Qriz'Ul repellant. Not to mention, most of the purple mist had been cleansed already. The stubborn cracks were already supplying new corruption, but it would take time to replace eons' worth of accumulation. The survivors had mostly holed up by these connections to the Lost Plane, using the channels to recover.

"I figured you wouldn't join us for this one," Ogras casually said to stave off the boredom.

"Why?" Carl asked, never stopping his scan of the surroundings.

"Look at them. They're just about finished," Ogras said, pointing at the two oversized puppets behind them. "The ship will have set sail by the time we return. I figured you would be the first to board."

"And split off from all the other sealbearers? That's asking for trouble," Carl snorted. "Besides, it won't be smooth sailing for them. We still don't know where in Zurbor they'll appear. What if it's next to one of the chapters? The puppets might take the heat but look at the destruction they cause. I'll take my chances staying by the Emperor's side."

"I guess you're right," Ogras nodded. "That man is a walking calamity, but the eye of the storm is usually the safest place."

"Hey! If you have time to gossip, you have time to look for energy hotspots while we move," Catheya said with a glare.

Carl shrunk his neck and joined Rhuger and Galau further behind.

"I'm afraid I'll catch fire if you look at me like that," Ogras rolled his eyes and moved closer. "You visited him before we set out, right? Is it that bad?"

"The exhaustion from his battle has caught up with him," Catheya said with a tight expression. "But he can't slow down because the timer keeps speeding up. He's a candle burning from both ends. Pills are losing their effect, and there's only so much Vilari and Emily can do. If we can buy him an hour, even a few minutes—"

Ogras sighed and conjured another batch of shades. Creating one felt like cutting off a strip of flesh. Which made sense, considering that was exactly how they were formed. It was the only way to make them strong enough to endure deep dives into the corruption while maintaining contact.

As Catheya said, there wasn't much one could do but look on with helplessness when a companion was fighting a losing battle against themselves. Usually, anyway. The problem was the trial's accelerated timeline, and there actually was a solution to that.

The real reason they were targeting this particular trove wasn't even for the treasures it held. It was because of the damaged auxiliary generators that were supposed to maintain its barriers. Except, they were currently funneling deadly levels of Stellar Energy into random circuits, blowing up whole neighborhoods. And with each hit the base took, Zac was pushed slightly closer to the cliff.

Along the way, there would be similar fault lines that risked becoming bigger problems if left unattended. The giants had sucked up most of the realm's energies, but there was no knowing what would happen when they left. That ingratiating Ship Spirit even admitted a powerful rebound was possible.

The others were already hard at work putting out fires elsewhere, doing everything they could to stabilize the base. It was a win-win, really. The harder they worked to help the boss, the more time they'd have to line their pockets.

A tremendous eruption of spatial energy made the group stop and take cover.

"Here we go," Ogras whispered as the rune flickered and transformed into a gate.

Not a vortex or spatial tear. It was an honest-to-god gate looking a lot like the one leading into the Polaris Vault, only hundreds of times larger to fit the Eternal Guardians. It was covered in runes, and even more buzzed around it like a swarm of flies. This was what Zac called simple brutes? What did that make them, who couldn't hope to create such a perfect pathway.

Zac was proven right just moments later when one of the guardians punched the gate with enough force to create a web of spatial tears stretching dozens of miles in every direction. The doors swung wide open, and Ogras swore upon seeing what waited on the other side. It was a huge War Fort that had clearly been aware of their incoming guests.

A storm of attacks was already coming their way, but their view was blocked by a sea of golden flames pouring out of the Spatial Tears. The starlight moved like it was alive, flowing into the gate and filling it up. The giants stepped into the mayhem and disappeared, leaving a growing web of spatial damage behind.

Ogras looked on with a grim expression as more and more starlight poured through. Soon enough, the gate couldn't contain it all, and fiery rivers began trailing in every direction. With the gate erected within the base's outer band, some of them were bound to strike true soon enough. Ogras sighed and retracted his shades. What was the point of looking for breaches now? They could put out a thousand fires, and it wouldn't make up for the damage a single river would cause.

A flash of silver joined the sea of gold. It was their companions who snuck through the pathway just before its gates closed. Ogras knew all too well just how hot those flames were, but the Moonpiercer would last a minute or two inside without issue. More than enough time to get out of the way. What happened after that depended on how equipped the Kan'Tanu were to deal with two determined giants.

Ogras glanced at Carl, who looked positively sick as the golden rivers grew twice as wide now that they'd lost their main outlet. The spatial tears were slowly closing now that its creator was gone, but the damage was already done. There was more than enough to crack the base open like an egg.

"Well, look on the bright side. I don't think we'll have to worry about the Qriz'Ul rallying against us."