MM - Chapter 216 - PHANTOM OF WAR

Celeste Luu Rahn

- ZionLine -

Almost an hour late, Celeste materialized in a rippling wave of reality that swept outward, forming a dense forest. The crisp scents of damp soil and something uncannily close to pine invaded her nostrils. The shock of going from Belehorn Tower's outraged buzz to the hush of wilderness crashed into her senses.

Raine had forbidden the recruits from logging in, leaving all of Astra in a state of near panic. Not one person didn't desperately desire to grow stronger. After all, it was now abundantly clear that their very lives depended on it. When begged for a reason, he offered only cryptic advice to monitor the forums.

That commotion, however, wasn't the cause of Celeste's tardiness. In an attempt to make good on her vow to not waste the priceless education she was receiving, she installed a top-of-the-line vod recorded to her headset. She ignored the cascade of system messages demanding her attention and instead configured the add-ons' many settings. The recorder utilized her own eyes and ears, converting her senses to record. She would never miss another of Raine's words, actions, or fleeting expressions. She could no longer afford to exist in ignorance or denial. Every action he took created abundance; failure to follow such an example was the height of idiocy.

To punctuate the point, during one of CronGate's many assaults, she had been running down a long hallway when Raine blew past her. He was so fast, even with his injuries not completely healed. No words passed between them; there was no need. She understood completely. She was far, far behind him. When she arrived to find the raid annihilated and him already gone, she fell to her knees.

It was then that the realization struck her like a physical blow; a revelation that reordered her entire understanding of the difference between them. It all clicked into place thanks to the memory of him buying ZLO shares. His movements had been just as swift and sure then. Before the reality of the exchange store had settled in with the thousands of attendees, Raine was already taking action.

That was because, for Raine, the future was the past. He wasn't just a boy a few years her senior; he was some kind of new, mutant seer condemned to relive segments of his life—months, perhaps even years at a time. This explained everything: his knowledge and martial skills, his seasoned weariness, and his deep-seated fear of psychics. Of course he was terrified; any being capable of peering into his mind would see not a future he was guessing at, but a past he was methodically dismantling and rebuilding. The realization made him seem both ancient and impossibly lonely.

After that moment, Celeste had done her best to follow him, making a log in her LinQ of his every action and word. She had known since the day they first met that he was a trove of potential, but now she understood why.

Unfortunately, Celeste’s fixation was constantly interrupted by the relentless psychological assault from a particular bitch doctor, who she was now certain was certifiably insane. A shiver traced its way down Celeste’s spine as she recalled the first time the ninja materialized from the shadows of a dimly lit hallway, her voice a silken whisper. “You see it, don't you? The musculature of his back, the sharp, assertive cut of his jaw.”

“W-what?!” Celeste had stammered, equally shocked by the sudden appearance as the message delivered.

The cut of his jaw? W-who would even notice something like that?!

Sensing her hesitation, Pamalaiha struck. “Imagine his nude form, every centimeter of him just as fierce.”

As if I haven't already-fuuuuck! No-no-no! Get out of my head!

Celeste had no choice but to flee, heart hammering. The crazy bitch found her again all too soon, this time, hanging from the ceiling of a secluded room like a predatory spider. As Celeste passed beneath, Pamalaiha dropped, landing with silent grace and draping an unwelcome arm over her shoulder. “He is not only handsome but powerful, wealthy, assertive, dominant, protective…” with martial skills beyond Celeste’s, Pamalaiha manipulated her body, prolonging the contact no matter how she tried to pull away. “Our patriarch personifies everything that will allow our progeny to thrive in this brutal world. He is perfect. Why do you hesitate? Instead of running, you should instead be considering ways to more effectively milk his seed.”

Celeste shoved the woman hard, breaking free. Her voice was a strangled cry as she dashed away. “No-no-no-no! Shut up and leave me alone! Who even says something like that?!”

Pamalaiha watched her go with a toothy grin, already having planned the next ambush.

[I will convince her no matter what it takes. The fiery one is a fierce warrior and leader. She will create many worthy additions to the clan. Yes... her offspring will be the whetstone that sharpens mine.]

The next time Pamalaiha cornered her was in a room with only one door, escape would not be so simple. The psycho bitch took a low stance, arms spread wide. Her voice was laced with a chillingly sincere fervor. “Can you not see it? He is the one; the next Old Monster. We are blessed to witness his ascension.” Celeste tried to sidestep the ninja, but her every move was countered. All the while, her feverish words burrowed deeper. “To be considered for breeding is the grandest honor of all. Each of the leading clans started this way. We will bear his progeny and raise them into the most powerful generation of grandmasters to ever rule the world. Our fortune is so great that I am constantly plagued by what misery will be invited to bring balance.”

Celeste took a step back, desperately searching for a weakness in her opponent's stance. “What is wrong with you? Are babies all you think about? Stay away from me!”

“It is you who does not grasp reality!” Pamalaiha’s voice rose, sharp with conviction. “Millions of women would risk their lives for the chance you are running from! What will you tell your children? ‘I am sorry, little one, I could have chosen a father who would give you everything, but instead, I decided we should live in the gutter!’ How can you not want what is best for them? How can you not wish for them to be part of the greatest clan that will ever exist?”

Celeste's eyes flew wide when Pamalaiha pretended to be talking to a child. Her chest grew painfully tight, and the muscles of her legs felt like they no longer belonged to her. The bitch's words struck a chord of fear at the very center of Celeste’s identity. Everything finally made sense. The terror she felt around Raine was intrinsically linked to the ghost of her mother. What if she and Raine did have children? Would they, too, be abandoned if they were found unworthy? A horrifying image flashed through her mind: herself, looking down at a child that was undoubtedly theirs, yet she now had the same dead, hollow eyes as her mother. Tears didn't fall, they gushed, splashing the floor.

Pamalaiha let her go after that, but she was far from done. When Celeste stumbled into her room, exhausted and praying for just one or two hours of uninterrupted sleep, she discovered the ceiling, walls, and even furniture had been completely covered in pictures of Raine. The ninja found her in the bathroom next, words echoing through a damned vent of all places. The bitch was probably still in her room right now, whispering in her ear as her body slept.

Celeste shook her head to clear the intrusive thoughts. The horrific night was in the past. What mattered now was continuing to learn from Raine. She used a Return Stone, then left the small town before Lunging high. She deployed a glider, the silken fabric catching the wind and lifting her further. While soaring toward the coordinates Raine provided, she sifted through the many system messages. Most were patch notes, but one, displayed in stark, crimson text, gave her pause.

[Astra Infernum has declared war on CronGate!]

[Kills between your guilds will no longer incur murder penalties. War assets may be legally utilized outside of populated zones]

Celeste didn’t know what ‘war assets’ were, but the part about murder penalties was a profound relief. The names of her and her guildmates had been growing increasingly crimson as they clashed with CronGate. She knew they were approaching a threshold where they would be branded as criminals and barred from towns, eventually even being hunted by guards.

Two hours later, Shadow Springs Town came into view. In flagrant violation of Vaaterran law, a lone figure hovered above the rooftops. She recognized Raine’s demonic armor instantly. Her message asking what to do next, as usual, went unanswered. Not daring to join him in the sky, she angled for a swift descent, landing near the town’s outskirts and hurrying inside. She ignored the disdainful glances from guards and pedestrians, rushing through streets swarming with life.

Rounding a corner, Celeste gasped, struggling to process the scene. The cobblestone square was not empty, but rather carpeted with a king’s ransom. Thousands upon thousands of drops glittered under the morning sun. Yet not one person moved to touch them. A cordon of grim-faced city guards, hundreds of them, formed a perimeter around the graveyard proper. 

Among them were five Tier 3 warriors. Each so high-level that Identification returned triple question marks. Their ornate armor and glowing weapons marked them as individuals of immense importance. They weren’t facing the crowd. Their attention was aimed higher. They shouted at the hovering figure in the sky, voices booming, weapons drawn, and murder in their scowls.

Peridot The Scamp

- Somewhere in ZionLine -

Of all the demons who traveled to the Mundane Realm over the last thousand years, of course, Peridot would be the one present when The Great Change occurred.

A pulse of mysterious golden energy had passed overhead, rewriting the very firmament of the world. It swept across the sky, scattering clouds. In its wake, millions, perhaps trillions, of ethereal streamers followed like dutiful thralls on a leash. They snaked down from the heavens, each no wider than a finger. Wherever they touched the ground, life blossomed. Beasts, animals, and monsters spawned from the barest touch. 

Peridot was spared in a sense. The single streamer that pricked her skin quickly moved on after a fleeting touch that deemed her unworthy of its blessing. The creature she had been fighting was far luckier. The moment a shimmering tail of light brushed its fur, the Plumus Dwarg’s gaze sharpened. Its eyes, once dull and instinct-driven, now blazed with terrifying cunning. 

It lunged, not at where she was, but at where she would be. Only seconds before, it had been entirely unable to perceive her through the layers of Stealth she employed. Now, from smell alone, it tracked her every movement. She deftly evaded, but it somehow knew she would. Its paw slammed into the dirt, kicking a blinding spray of soil into her face as it circled behind. The tactic was novel, intelligent, and utterly surprising.

Killing the beast was an order of magnitude more difficult than any that had come before The Great Change. Worse, where there had been one before, there were now dozens. Each set of eyes gleamed with the same malevolent intelligence. Peridot had no choice but to flee. She was stronger after her evolution, but not nearly enough to face a pack of higher-level beasts that could think and coordinate.

Only after her escape did the dire reality of the situation settle in. For a millennium, it had been common knowledge that the Mundane Realm earned its name from the utter lack of intelligence in its inhabitants.

Succubi called their freshly-spawned offspring ‘larva.’ Once fully grown, they became scamps. Until recently, she had been a scamp herself—young, ignorant, and weak. Yet even a scamp was vastly more competent than the native beings of this abandoned realm. It was as if the gods themselves had scorned the Vaaterrans, locking them in a larval state, their true potential forever sealed.

There were exceptions. The ruling class of the Mundane Realm was every bit as cunning as the most powerful demons, shepherding their lesser kin into vast cities for protection against a world that was, frankly, pitifully tame compared to the Demonic Realm.

None of that mattered anymore. A visit to the nearest town confirmed Peridot’s suspicions. Thanks to The Great Change, the population had exploded in number, and every single inhabitant, from the lowliest street sweeper to the most decorated guard, now possessed the calculating intelligence of a scamp. As was her duty, Peridot reported everything to Zircon—The Grand Shimmering One. As usual, there was no reply.

So long had it been since she heard Zircon’s voice that a cold dread took root in Peridot’s heart. She was alone, yet remained adamant about not abandoning her sacred mission. The Bearer of Cassidy was still out there. As always had been the case, he would eventually come into conflict with all demonkind. He must be stopped, but she was much too weak to see it happen.

In an effort to amend that shortcoming, Peridot had been charming and slaughtering beasts nonstop. While nearing her first true evolution, she’d stumbled upon a sobering realization: the tried and true strategy of her people would never work on the Bearer. In their one brief confrontation, he had shrugged off her Charm with contemptuous ease. 

Afterwards, she had seen the Bearer fight several times and knew she needed to be more: faster, stronger, and most importantly, remain completely undetected. Peridot was forced to make a radical choice. When her evolution arrived, she revoked any chance of ever returning home. They would kill her on sight for what she had become, hunt her to the ends of all the realms. That was fine. Stopping the Bearer was more important than her life; it was more important than even The Grand Shimmering One.

Peridot was a succubus no longer. Her path had diverged from that of beauty, seduction, and coercion. She was a Lesser Phantomwrath: a being devoted purely to battle. All her evolutionary points were poured into speed and stealth. She was hard to spot and nigh-impossible to catch.

With her new skills, she had tracked the Bearer far to the north before he vanished. Days later, he reappeared briefly, only for the tether connecting them to disappear entirely. The tracking spell was woven by Zircon herself. At its inception, it became a part of Peridot’s very essence. It had not been blocked or suppressed; it was truly gone. Even the death of Zircon or the Bearer should not have been enough to erase such a fundamental reweaving.

Peridot had been stricken by sorrow and anguish unlike any she had experienced before. Still, The Great Change did not give her time to grieve. Over the last several days, she was forced to continue moving, each hour a struggle for survival. For the Mundane Realm was mundane no longer.

And survive she did. Peridot hunted relentlessly, killing everything in her path in a frantic effort to pace the Bearer’s insane growth. Now, she stood atop a small rise, a silhouette of invisible wrath against a sky that forevermore marked a land she must call home. Ornate, chitinous armor had grown from her significantly more powerful frame. Her curved horns had thickened, becoming deadly weapons to spear and rend. Her eyes burned with a cold, cyan light that was not merely for show. She saw her enemies' weaknesses, their desires, allowing her to stay a step ahead. Skin, no longer soft and alluring, had turned sickly with reptilian scales that drank the ambient light. Best of all were her dual, barbed tails that could strike from any angle. She had become a living weapon, and she relished every second of it.

Her glowing gaze swept over the field below, a seething carpet of beasts. There were hundreds of them, a tide of snarling, chittering life waiting to be reaped. Claws of polished obsidian slid from her fingertips. One moment she was there, a demonic goddess surveying her harvest; the next, she was gone, a phantom whisper in the wind, bringing her ever closer to where she knew the Bearer must eventually return.