Chapter 679 - The Way Forward

“So long as I don’t have to go through hell again, I’m completely onboard,” Zeke said.  “We don’t, right?”

Oberon shook his head.  “Each realm is connected by a series of…pathways,” he stated.  “In most cases, access is routine.  Think of it like border security in your old world.  You go through a checkpoint where they establish your credentials, then allow you through.”

“That doesn’t sound so bad,” Zeke responded, shoveling stew into his mouth.  His appetite was voracious, and after so much time spent starving in hell, he had no interest in ignoring it.  Thankfully, the stew was fantastic, with hints of mana that revitalized him.  “What’s the catch?”

“Usually, entering the ways is easy enough.  Few people care about what’s leaving a domain,” he answered.  “Security is tighter for entrance, but that wouldn’t be an issue for us.”

Zeke gestured with his spoon, saying, “Still not seeing the issue here.”

“The issue is that Seraphane is unlike any other realm.  Mak’tar has taken measures to keep his subjects within his domain,” Oberon explained.  “Escape is no easy feat, but once you reach the ways, your security will be assured.”

“How?” Zeke asked.

“The Waymaster.”

“I’m going to need more information than that.”

Then, Oberon explained that the Waymaster was the most powerful among the gods.  In fact, he was so strong that he was rarely even lumped in with them.  He stayed in his domain, which functioned as the connective tissue that bound the other domains together.  But within the boundaries of his domain, his will was absolute.  Not even other gods could challenge him.

“What about me?” Zeke asked.  “I’m a primordial, right?  That gives me some protection.”

“It does, but if you challenge the Waymaster, you will be destroyed.  He is tied to the Framework itself, and in a way none of us can even fathom.  Some believe that he controls it.”

“What do you believe?”

“I believe that he is above me in every way that matters, and that so long as I play by his rules, I won’t have to discover just how much he outclasses me,” Oberon said.  “That is the only attitude that makes sense.  He is no one’s enemy.  Nor is he an ally.  He merely exists, second only to the Creator itself.”

“In this realm,” Zeke added.

Oberon agreed, “Indeed.  We don’t know what the next realm holds.  Only that it plays host to an eternal battle.  We don’t even know its true name.”

“What do you call it?”

“The End.”

Having finished the last of his stew, Zeke leaned back.  “That’s not ominous at all.”

“It is the end of the line, Zeke.  As far as we know, there is nothing after that.  No more hills to climb,” Oberon explained.  “It is also where most of us will meet our death.”

“Is that what keeps you here?  Cowardice?” Zeke asked.  His tone was neutral, but the words were meant to be disdainful.  The notion that he would stop his climb was alien to him. 

“Is that what you think of me?  That I am a coward?”

Zeke shrugged.  “How long have you been here?”

“What does that –”

“Eons, right?  When was the last time you made appreciable progress?  Are you even trying to get stronger?” Zeke asked.  “Or have you grown complacent?  I don’t judge you for your choices, Oberon.  I don’t know your life.  I don’t know what drives you.  If you want to sit on the sidelines of the greatest battle in the history of the universe, then that’s your decision.  I’m only asking the reasons.”

“I am no coward.”

“Then why not move on?  Why haven’t the others?” Zeke asked.  “Perhaps you could have made a difference.”

Oberon’s expression hadn’t changed, but even though the dwarf was only a projection with a fraction of the real god’s power, Zeke could feel Oberon’s anger.  It was almost tangible, like a fog that had suddenly appeared within the inn’s common room.  It was almost a surprise that the place hadn’t started shaking.

Still, Zeke held Oberon’s gaze, refusing to look away.

“We have a sacred task,” Oberon stated at last.  “And one that contributes far more to the war than we could have via our individual power.  Where do you think the champions come from?  Some rise on their own.  I won’t deny that.  However, the overwhelming majority only make it to the Ethereal Realm via our efforts.  We nurture.  We guide.  We give them the tools they need to get the most out of their power.”

“And then you send them on their way to die in the war you refuse to fight yourself.”

Oberon looked as if he wanted to argue, but then he deflated.  “You aren’t wrong,” he said.  “I came to much the same conclusion only a few centuries before I found you.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I chose you for a purpose, Zeke.  You had potential, even from the very beginning, and I tried to nurture it as closely as possible.  Do you think it was easy, bringing that troll dungeon into the Mortal Realm?  That took many decades of careful work,” Oberon explained.  “It also took more divine energy than you can imagine to give you your rewards.  Or did you not notice that Voromir was different?  That the Crimson Tower was unique?  Establishing those rewards, even in their nascent state, was incredibly consuming, both in terms of power and time.  Do you know why I did that?”

“You wanted me to join the final battle.  You wanted me to reach The End.”

“I wanted someone to come with me,” Oberon interjected.  “I am tired, Zeke.  So very tired.  But I’m also afraid.  I’m not immune to cowardice.  I don’t want to throw my life away in an unwinnable battle.  Not when I believe in what I’m already doing.  You scoff at my choice as evidence of complacency, and that isn’t an unfair characterization.  However, there are infinite sides to the notion, and you would do well to remember that.”

“So, that’s what you want?  An escort?”

“Originally, I wanted a team,” Oberon revealed.  “I hoped that your friends would prove just as unique as you.  That was not the case.”

“What do you mean?”

“It means that the drive to reach godhood is vanishingly rare.  To have the right personality to go even further – that is even more unique.  You are something else.  Something I don’t think has been seen in this universe or any other in all my years.  Some had potential.  Others came close through sheer effort.  But no one has ever epitomized the traits necessary to become a Primordial more than you.  Not in my memory,” Oberon responded.  Then, he added, “And I have been alive for a very, very long time.”

“They’re okay, though.  You said they’re okay.”

“They are fine.  Happy, even.  I suspect that your return will change that,” Oberon stated. 

“How so?”

“Because you represent change.  You have been gone for a long time, Zeke.  Longer than anyone expected.  People moved on.  They built their own lives.  They have become independent,” Oberon explained.  “Your return will disrupt the little lives they have built, and there is a chance that those closest to you might resent you for it.  In fact, I am certain they will, given how you left.”

Zeke frowned, looking away.  He knew he’d made the selfish decision by leaving the others behind.  He’d had his reasons, and those had proven valid by the fact that he’d barely survived.  Doubtless, if Pudge or Talia had come with him, they would have perished.  And even if they had survived, they would have been maimed – both physically and mentally – by the experience.

No – he had made the right choice.

The problem was convincing them of that. 

“The problem, Ezekiel, is that you never gave them a voice,” Eveline pointed out from within his mind.  “You never gave them any option.  You unilaterally made the decision for them.  People resent that kind of thing.”

“But do you think for a second that it was the wrong choice?” Zeke asked inwardly.

“No.  It was the only decision you could have made.  That doesn’t change anything though, and you know it.”

She was right, even if he didn’t want to admit it.  And what’s more, he was well aware that he would need to face the consequences of his choices.  There was every chance that he’d come home expecting a loving reunion and only find the embrace of resentment. 

He glanced back at Oberon. “So, what now?  How do we get to the ways?  And what happens once I’m there?”

Oberon seemed glad to move on from the previous heavy topics, and he explained the route Zeke was intended to take out of the city and through Mak’tar’s realm.  The first leg would be easy enough, though the trek through the wilderness would almost assuredly be fraught with danger. 

“Avoid the lake,” Oberon explained.  “Don’t even get within ten miles of it.”

“Why?”

“Because if you get closer, you will be mired in battle for a year or more,” Oberon explained.  “Even if you retreat immediately, the creatures that live there will pursue you across the wilderness.  They are intelligent, too.  They will circle around you, hindering your path until they die or you do.”

“What are they?”

“Demons.  Demigod offspring.  Mak’tar’s lineage.”

“How does that work?”

“They are a failed experiment.  He thought to raise an army that could overtake his enemies and expand his territory,” Oberon explained.  “They broke free of his control.  Even he wouldn’t enter that lake lightly.  The only reason he has yet to cull them is because they remain within their own territory.  I also believe he is afraid.  They are not weak, and they are extremely numerous.”

“What else should I expect?” Zeke asked.  He was already thinking about visiting the lake in question.  Perhaps it would give him an opportunity to let off some steam and figure out how his progression worked.  He had a vague explanation that he would need to harness the kill energy to bolster the different facets of his being, but in practice, he had no idea what that meant. 

“No, Ezekiel,” Eveline said.

“What?” he asked inwardly.

“You will not attack those creatures unless absolutely necessary.”

“What?  Why not?”

“Haven’t you had enough battle?” she asked.  “Don’t you want a break?”

Zeke was about to answer when he rethought it.  It wasn’t that long ago that he’d longed for just such a reprieve.  However, now that he’d had a few days without a good fight – or more importantly, an enemy was within his grasp – he couldn’t deny that he craved battle at least as much as he wanted a break. 

“What the hell is wrong with me?” he muttered to himself. 

“You are what your experiences have made you,” Oberon stated.  How much he could hear of Zeke’s inner monologue was a mystery, but he certainly knew more than he should have.  “I can’t stop you from following through with your plans.  I can even see the temptation, but I implore you – look before you leap.”

“What does that mean?” Zeke asked.  He knew the colloquial meaning, but he wasn’t making the connection between that and his situation. 

“It means that you need to think about the consequences.  Even if you kill those things, there’s a good chance that you will gain the attention of Mak’tar.  He knows what happens in his domain,” Oberon explained.  “He doesn’t always pay attention to every tiny detail, but an event of that magnitude well definitely draw his scrutiny.  You must avoid that at all costs.”

“Fine,” Zeke said.  “But what else should I expect?”

Then, Oberon went on to explain the route he was meant to take.  It was slightly circuitous, but eventually, the path would lead to the entrance to the ways.  Of course, it would be well-guarded, though Oberon insisted that he would be provided with a means of bypassing the defenses. 

“Follow my directions exactly, and you will slip away entirely unseen,” Oberon stated.  “When you have left this domain behind, you must make your way to the city of Silvermarch.  It is the central hub of the ways, and it is where you will find embassies representing every god, greater and lesser.  One of my people will meet you there.”

And that was it.  Aside from getting a map from one of Oberon’s servants, Zeke would receive no other assistance.  So, with no desire to prolong his stay in Seraphane and risk gaining Mak’tar’s ire, Zeke left the embassy behind. 

Hopefully, things would go as easily as Oberon described.  But in the back of his mind, Zeke hoped he would find at least some difficulty along the way.  Perhaps his desire for battle was even stronger than he wanted to acknowledge.