The Legend of Randidly Ghosthound

“We are going to make it, aren’t we, Heiffal?” Edgar panted as he did his best to stay in the tight formation of bodies. Exhaustion squeezed in between the spaces between him and the other shoulders, making him miss the easy fluidity he remembered from his training days.

Yet that only made him grit his teeth and struggle harder. Because if they failed now-

His squad leader barked out a sharp order. The extra burden on his back wasn’t helping, but Edgar shifted his weight in the squelching mud and unleashed a blast of annihilating energy over his head. Several other squad members did other tasks, each addressing a single issue to tackle the larger problem. In the sky above, the Order Ducis defended against a concentrated ray from the porcelain dolls.

Edgar’s knees trembled and sweat beaded across his face, yet he remained standing. The kinetic shockwave of the impact slapped him in the face. Another sharp bark of orders from the squad leader and they were wading forward again.

No matter how difficult it was to bear the weight, Edgar knew he carried all their hopes on his back. Heiffal had fallen silent since the worst of the fighting resumed, but his hand remained tightly gripped on Edgar’s bicep, urging him forward.

“Brace for blast!” Vizzeret Clamman bellowed. Edgar unleashed another annihilating pulse, clearing out the glittering remnants of their previous image to make room for another. This time, Charlotte Wick filled the space of the entire Vulpis Squad’s vacated images with a protective pulse. The ground beneath their feet firmed; Edgar took a step and could feel the dirt congregating beneath his feet. A golden dome of light sprung into existence above them. Energy filtered down, relieving the smallest bit of the group’s fatigue.

On the scale of the caloric and Willpower debt the soldiers had earned today, the healing effect mattered not at all. It was hard to even shut out the shouts and the constant whirring to check-in with your own body.

Each of Edgar’s breaths felt like they lasted for an eternity. Or he moved so frantically that he kept forgetting to breathe.

Even with all of the small protections offered by Charlotte’s image, the impact almost toppled Edgar. The Vulpis Squad wavered for a second and then Alana Donal howled upward, shredding through the blast and opening a Path. Ballast trumpeted out a charge order and the whole squad moved. Edgar kept his head down, watched where he set his feet, and prepared his dwindling image reserves for the next challenge. The chaos of the battlefield swirled around them like a drunken dream. Even if they had a short time to break before this last charge, he felt so, so exhausted. Edgar had to keep a constant cycle of his reasons for trying too hard on repeat in his mind to stay focused.

He stepped forward as he imagined his bland childhood, when he hadn’t even felt like a real person, just an observer floating around. Getting called to the frontlines, having a few sergeants who cared and guided him, no matter how slow he was to learn. Heading to the Alpha Cosmos, because he hadn’t known what else to do with himself.

Witnessing a bowling match between Heiffal and Commissioner Arrietti, an entire audience waiting with their breath held, to gasp or groan depending on the outcome of each graceful throw. And Edgar’s eyes had been opened, because finally he found an arena, perhaps like soldiering, where all that mattered was consistency.

Around his right bicep, Heiffal’s tightening hand, urging him forward with the last of his strength. To continue to reliably serve.

Edgar managed to put one foot in front of the other, even while a broken porcelain doll crashed to the ground and splashed is side with mud. His image sat in the recesses of his Soulspace, just producing the cleansing destruction the group needed. As the left-hand supporter of his squad, his own full image of a three-faced brass idol saw very little daylight. Instead, Edgar simply blasted away other image fragments from the air so the Vulpis Squad’s real heavy hitters could shine.

I’m consistent. And that is plenty, Edgar staggered forward when the rear supporter stumbled and needed to put a hand against his back in order not to fall. Edgar turned his head slightly and offered the other soldier a smile of encouragement, more of a grimace than anything else, but the Squad Leader chose that moment to bark out words and he whipped back to face the front.

Edgar’s pupils dilated. He saw Alana Donal frozen midair, her body burning with gold-orange flames, massive wings spreading out from her helmet. Next to her, Charlotte Wick unleashed more and more of her Primal Force image. But the ground in front of them exploded, allowing a strange, monstrous creature of warped metal and rapidly shifting sizes to rip its way out of the ground.

The flesh of its quicksilver body undulated and pulsed, the different limbs seeming to move independently of one another.

Edgar unleashed his image, as he had trained to do. The Vulpis Squad moved as one, striking a blow against this new monstrous foe that appeared in front of them, the last defense. But all those images sank into this being’s aura and faded, or shifted, or fractured. Right behind this thing’s back all those dense layers of temporal folds concentrated in a small ritual.

The limbs continued to move and swirl. After staring for a second as their attacks fell to nothing, Edgar realized that the oozing and shiny flesh pulsed along with the ripples of time emerging from behind its back.

The monster laughed as more slender tentacles slithered out from its core. “This is where this foolish crusade ceases. It seems a shame to unleash this perfect form on you small fries, but I have bound time through my limbs. Unless you feel competent fighting me with all of the temporal versions of yourself, from the beginning of my existence… hehehe. Well, I wonder if any dares to step forward? Come die.”

And in acknowledgment of the genuine threat posed by this strange being, the Vulpis Squad had stalled to a halt. The leaders stared forward, watching the air warp around this thing’s long, metallic arms.

They waited for only a moment. Enough to take a breath. Marginally, Edgar’s awareness steadied.

“...full charge,” Raymund Ballast said quietly, ending their brief reprieve. His squad responded, moving without considering the consequences. They were a tool, to help Randidly Ghosthound change the universe. They were worthwhile because they consistently served a purpose.

Edgar stepped forward with the rest of the group. The hand on his arm tightened— Heiffal’s urging was quite clear.

Above them, the monster bellowed ‘Fools!’ but Vant and Donal rushed toward his position to hold him back, blazing with more image power than Edgar had seen from anyone but the Ghosthound himself. Which left the common soldiers to wrap their image around their bodies and move forward with as much haste as they could manage. While the titans fought above, they swarmed below like ants toward spilled honey.

Passing through the temporal barrier felt like diving into a too-cold pond. Yet Edgar continued to churn his legs forward even as his self-awareness became slippery. Because for a moment, he lost his rock-solid identity as a member of the Vulpis Squad. He still ran, because he had been running, because for so long he had a life that coasted forward on inertia.

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He ran without understanding why. And he hated himself a little bit, because he had always been simply drifting through life. Edgar shivered. The mud seemed to deepen, while also he needed to suffer the constant thundering of more powerful images above.

Just… why am I doing this? Unwillingly, the speed of his stride slowed. His vision swam.

The stages of his life began to steadily reverse. The more he walked forward the younger he became. His epiphany on the bowling lane vanished, leaving his stride to slow. But just as he began to question why he was here, why he continued to push forward, he felt the grip on his arm moving down.

Heiffal pinched Edgar’s soft flesh between his fingers as the grip moved to settle down nearer to Edgar’s bent elbow. A part of him didn’t remember why there was a hand on his arm and weight upon his back, but the small seed of a Nether Core within his body did. His gait sped up once more.

Looking forward, the landscape swam like Edgar had arrived in the middle of a desert mirage. He kept moving forward, but his destination became fuzzy. The ground of the lake bed flexed up around him like a leaf drying out and curling in at the edges. The details of his image began to vanish as he went deeper into the energy, taking with them all the power. The temporal distortions muffled some of the reverberations from above, but more and more Edgar had to rely on his physical body to advance.

A blast clipped his shoulder, dislocating it. He ran now with a noticeable limp, the calf of his right leg cramping constantly. Cold spread up the ground and sank its teeth into the muscles of his legs. A current of energy pressed him sideways and it was only because of his windmilling arms (his dislocated shoulder flopping painfully around) and the weird consistency of the air that Edgar managed to stay upright.

Through it all, the grip remained constant on his arm. Edgar felt Heiffal’s grip weakening, but it was so much more steady than he was. His personality drained away. He was a child, and then he was nothing but a floating Nether core with a memory of an image from another life, drifting forward with a half body and a hand.

How can a living being be so sure of anything? The Nether Core wondered as it felt the pressure of that hand. Its self-hatred bred with itself and grew. Against the constant resistance, how can you persist like this? And I…

The Nether Core moved forward. Without a body, none of the aches and pains really affected it any longer. Blasts from the fight above were annoying, but no longer debilitating. It turned out after everything had been stripped away... All that remained was-

Consistency. That’s who I am.

The Nether Core advanced. It continued to move, forgetting even the self-hatred.

It had no memories, but just the memory of a memory. And just enough momentum to continue.

Because of the weird temporal folds in the area, the traversal actually ended very quickly; he probably only needed to cover ten meters to reach his goal. Edgar popped back into existence, the only sign of the temporal journey he had taken was a fully completed Nether Core, spooling out significance that shouldn’t be possible in someone as young as he.

He stumbled, blinking. Both from the sudden return to physicality and from his limbs, suddenly flush with Nether. The temporal waves undulated down and concentrated on a small ritual just in front of him— he had made it. But before anything else he reached up and squeezed Heiffal’s hand back, to prove they had accomplished their goal-

The hand crumbled beneath his grip. Edgar gasped in horror and undid the leather straps of the harness. He couldn’t stop trembling. He set Heiffal down on the ground and looked at this individual he admired so much.

He faced a corpse. Or the remnants of one, chipped away by time.

The light had vanished from his eyes, the eyes had shriveled, and most of his body had disintegrated from the poisonous image working its way through him. From the development of the Nether Prince sitting in Heiffal’s chest, he had been dead for quite a long time.

The tightening of the grip during their advance must have been Edgar's tensing. The shifting of Heiffal’s grip during the temporal disturbance was Edgar’s body changing and the hand finding a new resting place upon his arms.

“I-” Edgar cried for a second and then squeezed his eyes shut.

He was a soldier, he was consistent. Heiffal might not have been there… but Edgar knew this was exactly how he would have wanted it. They had a mission— sentimentality couldn’t be allowed to derail them.

As Edgar stored the body in his interspatial ring, he felt his image changing. Previously, his three-faced brass idol had one main expression, the forward-facing visage of peace. Slowly, the left face had been shifting to one of wrath and annihilation, due to his role in the Vulpis Squad. And now… the right face wept, totally consumed in its grief.

He felt long strands of Nether flowing into the newly transformed image, sharpening its edges.

Edgar released a shuddering breath. When he opened his eyes, his gaze had cleared. The battle still raged behind him, but by some crazy combination of miracles he had persisted through the barrier. He walked up to the temporal ritual and examined it. His eyes widened in horrified recognition.

He realized the secret hidden in this place, the one Heiffal had refused to depart without discovering.

“They aren’t trying to slow the flow of time around the isolated pocket where Pine is kept…” Edgar immediately sent the message to Alana. “They are accelerating it.”

*****

Randidly spun Acri as he felt the wicked vindictiveness settle across him. Understanding finally cleared out all the extraneous thoughts in his mind. As his Nether Core spun out thick energy, the pure crystal ball and its emerald gem dripped out liquid Aether in the process.

His wrath needed fuel. And today, he would break the world to remake it.

He slowly shifted his Soulseed Spear to point the weapon at Solomon Rex. “Now, when did the two of you start working together?”

Solomon stiffened. Fiero released a cackling laugh.

“It can’t have been the whole time, otherwise… well, you were too obvious about it. Or too lazy about pretending not to be cooperating.” Randidly reasoned his way through his thoughts, his spear point never wavering. “The deal you offered me was a pittance; it makes more sense you still wanted to use me as a stopgap to stabilize Pine, but your main focus was on Fiero, both because you wanted to recover your body and because the two of you would never agree on what to do about Pine. And then- Ah. When I wounded Fiero in that first fight, driving my spear into his flesh. That was it, wasn’t it?”

Randidly’s emerald eyes glowed. That was also the reason that he had so much time to settle his business with Devick. The two of them had been negotiating. For that bitter partnership, what was one more handshake to remain atop the horrible pyramid they had built? To monopolize a Pinnacle steeped in bitterness? “You realized the strength of this ‘vessel’ I’ve been building. That maybe, for the two of you who have so long feuded… You could combine forces. Eliminate an emerging third power… while also buying the Nexus plenty of time to figure out how to proceed.”

“When we speak of those who don’t deserve what they have earned,” Fiero hissed. “The only one in the Nexus who rivals me… is you, Randidly Ghosthound. You were anointed from your first blessed stumblings into the System. Your elders and betters built the road on which you have walked. It is time to pay us back for all the privilege you have enjoyed.”

“Even your Alpha Cosmos will benefit-” Solomon began, but at least he had the presence of mind to fall silent when Randidly’s smile widened.

“I think it’s time to call your bluff,” Randidly said lightly. “Which of us needs the other more, I wonder? Which of us can handle more breaking?”

Because the current arrangement had been a bluff. Randidly could see the fabric of the barrier that kept Pine isolated right in front of him but hadn’t touched it. But now he gave his Insatiable Deviation free reign. The canopy of the World Tree shook.

Congratulations! Your Skill Insatiable Deviation Promises Doom (DD) has grown to Level 1293!

Chains and rust and madness exploded out, shredding through the temporal barrier. Bits of darkness fluttered out like a murder of ravens taking flight, before disintegrating into sludge that stunk of malice. The Deviation’s wild glee at opening this door was palpable.

“You fool-” Solomon said at the same moment Fiero’s jaw dropped.

In the next moment Pine hung above them, an inky black moon of oblivion looming too close for comfort, crushing and grinding against their bodies with its desire to consume them all. Even the Insatiable Deviation flinched.