“You have done enough.”
Enough…
Long before that word was spoken, every fibre in his body had been wrung dry from constant fighting. The spirit wine, and even his trait {Weeds}, could only heal so much. And what could Restore heal if even his bruises had bruises?
Fueled by [Undying Cockroach], his mind alone kept him from taking a dirt nap. The word “enough” proved to be its kryptonite. Like a light switch, his mind gave up, sinking into the deep black.
Down and down.
There, he heard warm words. Saw pleasant things. Felt alright for a bit. Against all expectations, his mother welcomed him home. He even saw himself being lauded as a pioneer of humanity—a hero, just like “The Helldiver.” He even walked his sister down the aisle, watching her marry the love of her life.
All nonsense. Even unconscious, he could tell this was just fantastical nonsense his mind was making up.
A smile crept up on his lips. Hot water seemed to fill the empty spaces between his ribs. Could he be enough this time? Enough for his family. Enough for the world. Enough for himself.
“Just a bit more,” he prodded and weaselled at his subconscious, to stay in this fake dream of his. A couple of hours, a dozen minutes, seconds—whatever. “Just let me be… a bit longer.”
His pleas were unheard.
Reality carved through him. Dreams cracked, shattered into nightmares of old. Once again, he was denied; once again, he was the outcast, trapped in the same cycle, standing in a world of rust and ruin.
He drowned in his own nightmare until a soft, soothing melody drew him back from his nightmares.
Then he slept for a long while.
***
He woke up to a dull pain in his head. His muscles spasmed as they pulled themselves back into place. As he tried to stand, his body felt like a sack of flour held together by loose wires. Every shaky movement threatened to unravel what little control he had.
A quick check by 'I see through it' showed his health at seventy percent. The problem was his mind. It was still too overtaxed. The phrase “a healthy mind for a healthy body” seemed appropriate here, as his weakened soul was restricting his constitution. His health was barely rising anymore, despite his body being perfectly fine.
Thus, he returned to an old friend—gravefruits. They soothed his spirits enough, activating his spirit to heal him. He felt his body relax again, the noise in his senses fading.
His ears, however, were being assaulted by a constant, unchanging melody. The ache of loss sounded softly in the air, a forever mourning. The source was sitting not too far away from him. His expression softened in realisation, watching the old man play the song.
The old man had saved him from his nightmares. He was grateful. He was grateful, yet his brows were furrowed. All because of the tune he was playing. This was the same monotonous tune as before—the one he’d heard last night. The one he heard before that.
Over and over.
At first, he liked it, especially how mellow it got. It was soft, mournful, playing in remembrance of things lost. It resonated with something in the depths of the void in his chest. But once he heard it the second, third, fourth, and hundreds of times, it grew jarring. He’d grown weary of it.
He stared at the Battlewraith once more.
Battlewraith – ??
The entire time, he’d wondered how such a thing came to be. In the beginning, he really thought it to be the dead wife of the old man, revived into some grotesque creature by the land itself. Due to his lack of knowledge, he was wrong in his assumption, as usual.
She didn’t vanish because there was no revival involved.
‘I See Through It’ has seen through the construct ‘Battlewraith’!
The Battlewraith is a living construct forged out of the old Gravekeeper’s life construct, made in remembrance of someone that he couldn’t forget.
Merisa.
His skill confirmed what his mind couldn’t. It was no corpse-turned-wraith situation. There was no soul or identity inside the wraith. It was just a mere imitation of the old man’s late wife, or what she was to him.
The emotions it wore had no authenticity, constructed just as it was.
The Gravekeeper’s wife, Merisa, had been dead long since. Consumed by his grief, the Gravekeeper forged his life weapon into the image of his wife and started living a lie made by himself. He even forgot his own lie, perhaps.
His jaw firmed in realisation.
The old man kept telling him how his heart was in the wrong place. How he was fighting himself, and whatnot. He hated his guts for being correct. Hated that he saw through him outright. But what annoyed him the most was that the one who preached to him was still stuck in his sweet delusion.
What did that tell him about Zayn himself?
No. This must stop.
“It’s missing the end!” he blurted out, loud enough to overpower the tune.
The old man’s thin fingers stopped tugging on the strings. After a couple of seconds, he faintly raised his head, as if nudging Zayn to finish.
“The song—you said it was missing something. It’s missing the end,” Zayn replied. “I know I’m way younger than you, and… and you’ve experienced so much more that it’s not even comparable. But I know one thing—good things in life are only good because they end.”
“Is that so?” The old man finally raised his crooked head. “Is a song all about the ending, then?”
“Maybe not. But… a song that goes on forever is just meandering noise. A journey without an end is a trap,” Zayn spoke with certainty. “We can mourn. We can lose ourselves in daydreams and regrets. So much that all we seek is to just… stay in that one moment where it all felt okay, but in the end, we must move forward.”
The old man sat in place, facing the great lake. The wind rushed past them as Zayn waited for a reply. For a telepath, he should understand what he wanted. And yet, he didn’t reply.
“I am going out of here with Raka,” Zayn tried to strike the hammer while it was hot. “Why don’t you come with us?”
At first, Zayn didn’t like Old Grave for being too nosy and embarrassing, but there was no denying it. The old man made him feel something he’d not felt in a long time—a sense of warmth and belonging.
He didn’t want to leave him behind.
He, Raka, Old Grave, and his fake wife—they made a weird team. Weird didn’t mean they couldn’t function. He would take it. Even Faeria, if she agreed.
“In my home planet, there was a flower named Aranotaso,” The old man spoke in remembrance. “Every year, it bloomed for an entire day before succumbing.”
Did he want to see it again? Zayn hastily replied, “There must be some in Eledra, too. We will go find them if you want!”
Shaking his head, the old man kept reminiscing. “The moment it dies, its blue petals are collected by alchemists for medicinal properties. Its ruby core is turned into ornaments. Even the white stems aren’t without use. It has no waste parts. It’s a flower… whose existence is kindness.”
Zayn didn’t understand where the conversation was going, but he didn’t disrupt the old man either. He noticed in the reflection that the old man had finally opened his eyes, revealing a pair of whitened eyes.
The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.
Even there, he could see unmistakable tenderness.
He continued. "Merisa was like that flower. In her pursuit of saving lives, she forfeited her own. Each song she created… ate away her own lifespan. By the time I learned of it, no elixir, no potion, no spell could heal her.” A sad smile broke on his lips, “I searched far and wide. Then I heard of a fruit born only in graves… a fruit that could cure any disease.”
“Gravefruit.”
Old Grave nodded. “Yes. I brought her here thinking I was saving her… but fate stood against us. We became stuck in the crossfire, unable to leave. And what happens when one defiles the Grave of the Gods?”
Zayn felt his heart sink in realisation. “You, too, were cursed alongside them.”
“Even on her deathbed, she pleaded with ‘him’ to spare me, offering her single, final song. ‘He’ heard her plea, granting me eternal life while she passed on.” He softly rubbed the ground with longing. A single streak of tears fell down his wrinkle-filled face. “This land is her forever grave. And me… It's Gravekeeper.”
***
It didn’t take long for Zayn to feed the rest of the cores to the ball of mana. The more it ate, the faster it got. No longer was it just a mana construct, but rather a half-physical, half-mana sphere. Its semi-solid form trembled in ecstasy as it devoured the last of the cores.
Throughout the process, the old man’s woes rang inside his mind. Both people loved each other too much, just at different times. Merisa loved too early, a love he failed to understand. The old Gravekeeper loved too late, and was cursed to drown in his own regrets.
Zayn exhaled the heat out of his chest, staring at the pulsing ball of mana in his hand. It was done devouring and was wriggling like a worm as it returned to its usual place, which was supposed to be his soul.
Once again, he took account of the pattern of its movement.
By now, the mana within his body moved in the same manner—though, thankfully, that didn’t catch the ire of the gods. Not yet.
Earlier, he’d used the coffin to upgrade his gears—the red clothes, his mask, and the Hollowfang. As the coffin increasingly kept asking for more and more crystals, he felt the sting of it.
Nearly half of his Arax crystals were gone.
After the fifth round, the clothes were sturdier than his skin. They were also very comfortable to the touch. The new shade suited him—now a mix of darker red and soft red, almost like a chessboard—giving him a rather cool look.
To attract patrons, he needed to be cooler. To have a presence.
Should he try to be more gentlemanly, too? Maybe powerful female adventurers from the greater universe would like a dashing gentleman as well… hmm. He looked up at the skies from time to time in wonder.
Finally, he made the choice he’d been hung up on for a while.
Verdant Skin evolution options available!
Eldtree Hide: Turns your body more responsive to the poison and curses of the world. On exposure, you rapidly gain resistance to poison and curses. Upon further evolution, this skill would allow you to wield poison and curses.
Requirement: Resistance to Poison and Curse (1/1)
Burning Flesh of Hell: Turns your body more responsive to all sources of fire and hellfire in the world. On exposure, you rapidly gain resistance to all forms of fire. Upon further evolution, your flesh grows to wield the flames of Hell.
Requirement: Resistance to Flame (2/1)
Abyssal Clad: Turns your body capable of resisting and hosting various types of corruption, allowing you to endure the gazes of the Abyss and turn it into your own power. Upon further evolution, this skill follows the path of grazing the Cosmic forces.
Requirement: Resistance to Abyssal Forces (2/1)
Dryadic Physiology: Allows your body to resist and host the elements of nature. You’re more primed to fight against nature and all its hazards, rapidly adapting to all elements and using them to heal yourself at every moment. Upon further evolution, this skill follows the path of wielding elements and regeneration.
Requirement: Bloodline of Nature (1/1)
He looked over them with interest.
Eldtree Hide could be useful, but he didn’t believe it to be a necessity. He also didn’t want to narrow his options down to just Flames, so it was either Abyssal Clad or Dryadic Physiology.
If he were to be entirely honest, he liked Abyssal Clad more. The idea that he could roam around the Shattered Abyss without being turned into some monster sat well with him. But the situation demanded he be more thoughtful and less indulgent.
‘Verdant Skin’ has evolved to ‘Dryadic Physiology’!
Dryadic Physiology (Adept – Low): You are the son of trees. Your body is primed to fight against nature and all its hazards, rapidly adapting at every moment. Any nature-based resistance is doubly effective on you.
Your natural regeneration is now boosted by 50%. At rest and upon exposure to elements, this perk scales up to 100%.
He checked and found that his regeneration had indeed increased fairly. Funny enough, as long as he fought, he would always be exposed to fire due to [The First Spark]. That meant this ability was always at 100% effectiveness.
Though he didn’t believe he was at the level of regenerating lost limbs and bone, flesh damage, he could endure.
This was fine.
The rest of the blood he kept for emergencies.
Before long, the red moon took over most of the blue sky and turned the heavens crimson. He could already smell the inverted forest slowly assimilating with reality. The time had come.
He felt his chest thrum—not in fear, but in excitement. Not long after this, he would be confronting the Stone Ape.
He alone would have had no confidence in defeating the Ape, but the Gravekeeper and Faeria were both far stronger than he was. Though the Gravekeeper said he couldn’t interfere… oh well.
Just him and Faeria, then.
She seemed strangely confident, and it was infectious. He shrugged and readied himself as well.
The sound of boots brought him out of his meandering thoughts. Faeria closed in, appearing more solemn than ever before.
“Are you done?”
Zayn nodded, readying himself—body and mind. Others might have shat themselves at the thought of encountering something like the Stone Ape. Not him. The adrenaline was already pumping inside him.
Soon, everything—including the land—began to quake softly, as though the entire world was shifting.
It was beginning.
Which side would the Stone Ape come from? Zayn darted his eyes around cautiously, often giving Faeria a questioning look.
“Zayn, if you were the Stone Ape, and you had to secure half of yourself against an army, what would you have done?”
Zayn responded without a thought. “I’d have attacked myself immediately without a second thought—”
“Correct.”
Cranking his neck, he found Faeria staring at him oddly. What now?
Cone-like, pointy pillars rose out of the ground as the quaking intensified. Zayn gazed in confusion until he noticed through the magma and realized what the pointy rocks were—teeth.
A row of rising teeth. All around him.
The tremendous jaws of the Ape rose from underneath the ground and encircled him, intending to swallow him whole in one bite.
Panic bloomed inside him, but now it was too late. He was falling without control toward what seemed to be molten rock and magma.
He gritted his teeth.
Was he going to be swallowed before he even got to the battle?
Like hell he was.
Bloodmetal stormed out of his body, turning into chains that hooked onto nearby rock and flung him upward. That wasn’t nearly enough for the rapidly closing mouth.
He roared. Red surged toward his legs en masse, cracking the ground beneath him and launching him high into the air. But his efforts fell… short. He was watching himself get dragged back down by gravity, falling into the jaws of the Ape.
Just as he scrambled his thoughts, a dark hand pulled him into a shadowy dimension.
Zayn huffed in relief, enclosed within the shadows.
He had considered the Ape coming from all sides—east, west, north, south. Even from above, the way it leaped. But never had he considered that the Ape would try to finish the fight before it even began.
Faeria took him nearly half a kilometer away with a shadow step skill. From there, he saw the Ape slowly rise out of the ground, its incandescent eyes glowing with anger.
Doubt flashed in his eyes.
“That’s… the same Stone Ape? There’s no way.”
That thing already had jaws spanning nearly a hundred meters. It was at least double the size of the earlier Apes he’d seen. Didn’t she say it was going to be weakened? If anything, it looked far stronger.
Stone Ape, LV 92
It was far stronger than the ones before.
Faeria explained, “If you had to fight over and over for thousands of years without meaning, would you not stop putting in effort? The same is true for the Ape.”
The Ape ripped itself out of the ground, cracking it open as it rose, molten lava and boulders falling from its immense body. The whole time, it stared unblinkingly in their—no, his—direction.
Not that he blamed it. He’d stolen its millennia' worth of hard work and cracked its nose right after. He wouldn’t have tolerated that either.
Zayn stood straight, feeling a bit of vertigo from being pulled so hard. “That’s… going to be fun. So, what’s the plan now?”
The moonlight bled crimson. Roots rose around them and wrapped around Faeria. Soon, another figure just as gigantic as the Ape rose—far more slithery—to Zayn’s dismay.
In its hand was a long spear, its end opening like a dragon’s mouth. The silhouetted figure was wrapped in a cape that seemed made of shadows and shining stars, while her body absorbed all light.
Undead Treant General, LV 81
“The plan is that you stay out of this. You’ve done enough,” a distorted voice announced.
Vines pulled him high into the air, locking him inside the ribcage of the giant thing. Darkness veiled him, sealing out all light. His surroundings became a mix of shadows. She had even cut him off from all sources of mana.
Needless to say, it was only darkness and him now.
For a good while, Zayn stood in shock within the chamber of roots and veins, watching the giant Faeria and the Ape fight one another.
Then, he laughed in disbelief, his heart shrinking in realization. He rubbed the back of his neck. He understood her reasoning. Rash and boorish he was, rushing into danger without thought. He understood. She didn’t want him to mess up her plans.
He understood perfectly.
Ba-dump!
What he didn’t understand was why he hadn’t been told any of it earlier.
Ba-dump!
He got played. Fool that he was to think this a partnership—to trust her even a tiny bit.
Not everyone was like the old Gravekeeper. He forgot that.
Ba-dump!
The smell of ash and blood irritated his frayed nerves even more. He checked his position, lips clamped tight. His eyes glowed with fire.
Did she think she could cage him like this? She was belittling him a bit too much.
He had slipped in and out of the Shattered Abyss before. Sure, by cutting himself of mana, he should have been without options. She thought.
She thought wrong.
He pulled out a slab of mud with eroded sigils carved into it. He’d kept it to himself, and he was glad he had.
His eyes burned with determination as he prepared a Hail Mary.
