Return of the Tower Conqueror

BOOK IV

SYMPHONY OF CHAOS

Chapter 390

Seven(?) Greedy Ones Ascend (I)

Dark forest stretched out in front of him—paths leading nowhere, thick trees obscuring the view, hostile plants and small insects trying to entrap him… even though he knew his only option was to escape into the Forest of a Thousand Deaths, he was beginning to regret it ever so slightly. Then again, at least his pursuers wouldn’t be as careless as he was; they’d establish a perimeter and make small gains on a daily basis rather than rush madly like he did.

He was getting tired, however, so he chose one of the many, many, many same-looking trees, climbing up and sitting down onto one of the thicker branches. It was incredibly dark—so much so that even infusing Mana into his eyes did little but help him see the general edges and frames of objects around him. After all, anything that shone with any kind of light in this forest had either long since been hunted down into extinction, or had become an apex predator that uses that light as bait.

He was lucky that one of the spells he’d learned his last return to the Library was Myriad Skinmesh, a spell which served both as means of disguising himself as someone else as well as help him blend into the surrounding environment. However, even that won’t last too long—eventually, he would run out of Mana and the many predators would come out of the woodworks and hunt him down. Even if he was strong, he’d barely broken through the 200th Level a few weeks ago—not nearly enough to survive in the Forest of a Thousand Deaths even for as long as he did.

“Dammit, why’d this have to happen?!” he knew why—Ion Myorth, son of Fyarnen Myorth. A spoiled, rich brat who fancied what he couldn’t have—Silvia, a long-time friend and an occasional party member. Unlike him, Silvia was a rising star, having underwent her Third Awakening almost a decade ago, poised for the Ascension within the next fifty years at most. She caught fancy many eyes, but Ion was beyond obsessive and possessive. “That bastard… I should have killed him before fleeing.”

But it was too late now—he would likely die, and the world would be none the wiser to his peril. He sighed, slinging back and looking up, wistfully wondering whether, even for a moment, he would catch a glimpse of the night’s sky. But it was pointless.

“If I’ll die,” he mumbled with mounting resolve. “I… have to do something.”

By the time his Mana ran out, he managed to carve out a few letters into the wood. He surprised himself; after all, the kythrnia trees were some of the most resilient in existence.

Ion monster. Traitor.

Though it was just three words, it was enough. He began to close his eyes in preparations to die when something inexplicable happened. He felt a minute surge of Mana near him. Terrified, he thought that they caught him and was prepared to fight, but before he could mount any Mana, the person spoke.

“You’ll alert the whole place,” it was a voice that he didn’t recognize. However, nobody should be in this forest—nobody sane, anyway. Curiosity got the better of him and he opened his eyes. He didn’t know why—he hardly had enough Mana to even visualize the person’s frame. “Hm? Ion monster? Traitor? What’s that?”

“…”

“You can talk. I’ve isolated us both.”

“Who are you? How are you here?” he asked, burning with curiosity.

“I walked here, I suppose?” it was a man, that much he knew, at least.

“But why?”

“I drew the short stick and got stuck with exploring this place,” the man replied casually. “Honestly, it’s pretty terrifying. If that bastard didn’t lend me a couple of items, I wouldn’t be much different than you. Now, my turn to ask questions. Who are you? How are you here? Why are you here? What kind of monster is this ion thing? Who’s the traitor?”

“…” Anth grew confused. It was impossible for anyone living within ten thousand miles not to know who Ion was. Something was terribly off, he felt—and the chances that he was being played grew even more. And yet… it was the straw to life. And he had to grasp toward it. “Can… can you save me? If… if you do… I’ll, I’ll make a Vow to serve you for a 100 years and tell you everything I know.”

“…” the man gasped lowly, seeming shocked. Is it not enough? Usually, vows are made with at least a 1000 years being a starting point, but Anth short-sold as it seemed like the man was a possible newcomer or an outsider who wasn’t familiar with how things worked. “You won’t be serving me, though?”

“Who… who would I be serving?”

“The Patriarch of my Sect.”

“Your Sect?” Anth quizzed, confused. There hadn’t been any news of major Sects moving in.

“Official name is ‘Void Worshipers’, but you can call us Seven(?) Greedy Ones. There are fourteen of us, fifteen if you join.”

“Uh… then… why, why Seven in the name?”

“No, it’s not just Seven. There’s a question mark after Seven, indicating that it might not be Seven.”

“… what?”

“Are you doubting our Patriarch’s grand wisdom?!”

“No, of course not!” Anth replied when he heard a trace of anger in the man’s voice.

“You fucking should,” the man sighed suddenly, causing Anth to nearly topple over and fall from the tree. “The man’s a maniac, a lunatic. Half the things he says make no sense, and the other half is just him blowing smoke up his own ass.”

“Uh…”

“Ah, don’t worry. You may share what I said. We usually just say it to his face.”

“… i-is your Patriarch weak?”

“Weak? No, why?” the man asked. “Oh, ‘cause we say shit to his face? Ah, don’t worry. He fires back as much as he takes. In fact, just yesterday, he made a little bro of mine cry. God, that shit was brutal.”

“…” for a fleeting moment, Anth considered that dying was better than getting entangled in whatever that hell was. But he couldn’t—he had to go back and warn them. “F-fine. I’ll, I’ll serve your Patriarch. Can… can you save me?”

“Of course,” the man said, gently lying his hand on Anth’s shoulder and infusing a peculiar stream of Mana. “It ain’t mine. That guy gave me a few drops of his. It’s a bit diluted by now but it should hold you over.”

“…” Anth shook; there were many, too many contradictions within that drop of Mana. There was no doubt in Anth’s mind that it was Mana of someone who’s just twice-Awakened, and yet, he realized that if Mana burned with hostility… his entire body would implode. He would be unable to protect himself from it.

“You alright?”

“A-ah? Yes. Thank you. This should hold me for a while.”

“A while is enough,” the man said. “We’ll be at my Sect’s headquarters in about thirty minutes. Follow me.”

“… my name is Anth. What about yours?” Anth asked as the two men gently leapt from the tree and landed on the ground without making a sound. The man turned northward and began moving rather casually.

“Daniel,” the man replied. “How’d you get yourself in such a sticky situation, Anth?”

“…” Anth thought for a moment before deciding to probe the waters. He naturally wouldn’t reveal the truth; for all he knew, this ‘Daniel’ was a member of Ion’s group. Though it was strange that the man was moving alone in the middle of the forest, strange things happen all the time. “There is a girl—”

“Say no more.”

“H-huh?” Anth, once again, nearly stumbled and fell.

“Whenever a guy starts his story with ‘there is a girl’,” Daniel said. “That story ends up being the same: there’s a cute girl that barely realizes I breathe the same air she does. One day, I found means of showing off. But I’m a schmuck and I suck so my show-off ass wound up being chased like a rat into the dark, scary woods. Well, usually the story ain’t that dramatic. But, you know, variety and all.”

“…” Anth remained silent; the man was strange. Beyond strange. His manner of speaking, his conduct, nothing was consistent with any of the cultures Anth was familiar with. Even if he expanded it to include the dungeon-worlds, the man still came off relatively unique. More and more he suspected that the man truly was not part of Ion’s group, but he couldn’t be certain.

Furthermore, Daniel seemed to know precisely where to go, akin to having a big arrow pointing his way. Soon enough, Anth realized that the overbearing feeling of the forest was beginning to wane. Within minutes, it was gone--as were the trees. They emerged from it into a canyon, a massive gash in the earth spanning some two miles in width, descending acutely. Daniel followed the decent, dodging the protruding, brown rocks and moving toward the bottom. Within a minute, Anth saw them--lights. And, soon enough, saw the source.

Near the bottom, perched within a wide clearing that was roofed by a natural cliff, there was a fairly large compound made up for fifteen or so buildings. Strangely, there were no guards, either on the stone walls or in front of the iron gates--in fact, the gate itself wasn’t even closed, as though they didn’t care if someone walked in. Then again, Anth was entirely unaware of this place--as was likely everyone. If his inner compass served him well, they moved out toward the northern end of the forest which, according to a map, ought to lead into a brittle wasteland composed of rotting coal and black sand, not a fairly hospitable canyon that provided a good, naturally defensive position.

The two of them walked through the gates and landed into a squared opening that was surrounded on all ends by buildings of various sizes, though all were fairly ordinary-looking and were made of shaven, gray-stone, most popular material for when the budget was tight.

“Yo, Master, found a straggler!” Daniel shouted suddenly, startling Anth. So far, he hadn’t sensed any presence of Mana within the compound--and even as several figures walked out of the buildings, they still appeared completely mortal.

Three figures in total walked out--a man and two women. The man appeared to be in his forties, though had a fairly robust figure still, similar to one of the women while the other one looked to be in her twenties. However, there was sharpness in her eyes that had even Anth feeling slightly skittish. None of the three exuded even an ounce of Mana, yet there was zero chance Anth would believe they were just ordinary people.

“Why’d you drag him over, idiot?” the youngest woman sighed. “Didn’t you forget the main rule we have?!”

“He swore he’d serve us for like a hundred years,” Daniel said. “Plus, he was being chased like a dog so we’re likely his only way out.”

“...” though words hurt, Anth remained silent and unmoving.

“He should be around level 200?” the middle-aged man tilted his head and mumbled. Anth’s heart shook; while it wasn’t unheard of that people could estimate levels of others, it usually required there to be a massive gap in levels between the two. “A fighter, from the looks of it. He gelled his hands with Mana to hind calluses. Looks like a one-hander with focus on speed.”

“He’ll fit in nicely,” the middle-aged woman nodded while Anth began to think he had made a huge mistake. There was no way these people were ‘nobodies’.

“Right, they mentioned that there’s something called Divine Oath that people here really liked,” the middle-aged man said. “Apparently, nobody likes dying so, instead, they enslave themselves for a couple of lifetimes.”

“... well, yeah, whatever. That’s your area, Master. I’mma go back to sleep.”

“Same, same~~” the two women waved off, appearing disinterested, and went back into one of the buildings. The young man called Daniel had long since disappeared off to somewhere, leaving Anth alone with the strange, middle-aged man who was staring him up and down like he was a child.

“What’s your name?”

“A-Anth, Sir!” Anth replied hastily.

“Right, well, come on in. I was musing whether I should fix myself a midnight snack. Now that you are here, we may as well share a meal together,” the man spoke casually, bereft of the air of a master. “They say men best realize each other with fists--bullshit. Fists? Fuck that, right? Who has time to bleed and hurt? No, no. Men best understand each other through beer and meat. Don’t you agree?”

“Y-yes, of course, Sir!” Anth agreed. Then again, he would have agreed to anything if it would save his life.

“... right. You got robbed of your spine, too?” the man sighed, appearing to lament something. “It’s alright. Most kids I adopt either have too much or too little spine. With a bit of time with me, everything will turn out fine. Come on, follow me.”

“Y-yes!” Did... did he say adopt?! What--what the hell did I get myself involved with?!!