(I see it is you once again.)
(Oh, you picked up already. Is this the same guy as before or a different replica?)
(You should assume that it does not matter. Was it your intent to speak with me about removing the intruders here?)
(Not really, you already seem to have found someone to work with you.)
(That is an interesting assumption. But while it makes sense to suspect me, it could also be simple greed, and you seem to have some experience with its Ruler.)
(Has she left a mark on me?)
(Indeed. She likes to leave them on those she thinks of as candidates to become her weapon. These marks are usually meant for the other Rulers, but if you know where to look, with some effort it is possible to detect them.)
I pause and think. Some kind of scent mark from Biscuit, the mark from Lissandra’s probably still in place, and now one from the Ruler of Greed. This has to stop somewhere.
(You know what’s fun?) I ask.
(Tell me.)
(The tutorial system does not seem to be censoring anything here. So I can get some decent information from you.)
(Doesn’t that only work if I decide to cooperate and share such information?)
(I mean, keeping up the conversation is to your advantage, since it allows your hypothetical coconspirator to make preparations to kill someone else, right? Sorry to disappoint, but I already know who did it, and next time they’re dead. That is, of course, only if you have a coconspirator. If we want to pretend there isn’t one, you can excuse having the conversation by saying you are bored.)
As he talks, I can hear amusement in his voice. (Did you know Greed rarely picks people from the Pride subclass as candidates for her weapon? She, The Warden, and some of their collaborators consider it impossible for anyone under the rank of Ruler to be capable of challenging the Ruler of Pride. And you, as a Pride subclass, would not be able to become Ruler before challenging him.)
(Is he that powerful?)
(Wyrms, the Corporation, ancient families bearing powerful traits, dragons, beast clans older than most civilizations, forgotten Rulers, old Gods, and countless others, no matter how mighty they are, still fall short in front of his power. You seem to have met The Absolute. Long ago, she was thought to be capable of facing him. That day, dozens of the most powerful beings in the system watched her challenge. But even she was proven insufficient.)
He pauses, and I turn away from the panel to look out the window, where the cracked portion has been plastered with materials salvaged from the room. The crack keeps spreading even now. The lights are entirely off now, and only the red glow from the planet below gives any illumination.
(Never trust Greed. There are reasons most other Rulers despise her. Right in front of their eyes, she’s trying to raise people to accomplish what she could not, people who would become Rulers in their place. She would not hesitate to replace most of the current Rulers with her weapons, in the hope the chance of killing him would be higher.)
(Ah, do not worry about me. I don’t trust any of the Rulers.)
(Then Wrath should interest you. The Rulers of Wrath are often among the most formidable when it comes to combat, which is why Greed so often seeks out those with that subclass. As you might expect, the current Wrath finds this displeasing and takes some delight in making trouble for Greed.)
I almost chuckle at those words. Trouble for Greed likely means a dead weapon candidate, also known as a poor attendee. But that can only be expected. As much as she can be friendly and nice at times, the Ruler of Greed has a single goal in mind.
Killing Pride.
Even at the cost of her own life, thousands, millions of others, entire tutorials, and entire planets. All ready to be sacrificed for that single greed driven goal.
(How nice of you to talk with me for so long.)
(Do not think I am unaware of my own inclinations. I have long known that all replicas at this level share such traits, carrying both the tendency to look down upon those they deem weaker and the unfortunate habit of oversharing. This alters in time, as they reach higher levels and unlock more of the abilities and memories of the original body.)
(That poison seeping into the room, is it being released by you or your coconspirator... I mean, the hypothetical one?)
I’m already having trouble breathing, even though I tried to do it as little as possible. I feel blood in my mouth, and my passive healing is trying to mend the internal wounds it causes.
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(I regret to say I have no knowledge of what you speak.) The elf lies.
The replicas of the last elf sure can be annoying at times. But at least they are talkative for being replicas of someone so old, or maybe they are as talkative because they have memories from when he was younger. Perhaps I wouldn’t want to meet a more powerful replica before getting stronger. Plus, I think they have a right to be annoying, since we’re the ones breaking into this place on a quest to eradicate them.
So who are the baddies? Us, or the replicas, with people being sent to kill them for whatever their main body wants to do?
(What happened to the planet below?) I ask, deflecting a few more attempts from the presence I’ve been talking to, as it tries to connect to the deeper protocols of the golden halo.
The attempts continue the entire time and do not stop even as the elf answers, (Is it not remarkable, the sheer level of destruction here?)
I turn away from the panel and glance outside through the cracked window. Calling it a window feels wrong, since it’s basically just a towering sheet of glass that stretches from floor to ceiling. Beyond it, the burning planet glows like an ember, a splash of burning red color against the endless black.
There is a strange beauty in that view. It is raw and dangerous, the kind that draws you in even as it hides the countless lives it’s taken.
The replica continues, (Even though the planet has not undergone any Pairing and remains extremely fragile, the extent of the damage is fascinating nevertheless, as are the fires that continue to burn after hundreds of years.)
(What kind of fragment is it?)
After my question, the voice falls silent and comes back just as I wipe a drop of blood from my lip and use more thermal energy to heal the damage.
(It seems you have stumbled upon some of my old records. I had all but forgotten them. It is a Fragment of the First Star if you have to know.) At the end of that sentence, the last elf may not laugh, but to me it sounds no different than if he had.
(What is so funny about that?)
(With great difficulty, I was able to figure out what happened here. Would you care to hear it?)
(Yes.)
(Are you certain? How is your body holding together? Have your lungs begun to fail? Do your thoughts feel heavier, and is your healing weakening as the poison adapts?)
(Something like that. So?)
(Oh, you people with the Pride subclass. Would you believe me if I said the holder of the Fragment of the First Star that caused all of that was also Pride? A powerful Beyond attendee, but arrogant and lacking where he should not have been. Even with that Fragment in his possession and after becoming an S rank, Greed did not consider him worthy of being a weapon candidate. But that matters little, for our poor attendee knew none of Lady Greed’s plans and hopes. Powerful, and the victor in three of the tournaments he entered, luck favored him, but only until he was able to get his hands on the Fragment on the thirteenth tutorial floor. But I suppose, had you asked him, he would have thought it nothing other than amazing luck, at least until the final moments of his death.)
I notice movement and watch as Tacita stands up and faces the gray man approaching her. He shouts something at her, at me, all the while coughing up blood. Malika stands nearby, slightly swaying from side to side with a faintly empty expression on her face.
(He was of the velnar people, his body was already powerful, and it only strengthened further during his time in the tutorial, until at last he stood among the strongest attendees who’d been seen in a thousand years. Supported by all the traits and passives he had gained, it was able to hold that Fragment, one of the most dangerous ones. But that was only if he had refrained from using it. He had been warned many times, told to be patient, to wait. But then, after his tutorial ended and all returned, he stood surrounded by those he had led or bent to his will. Facing him was another group, the Beyonders, who had never accepted him, joined by others from his own planet who had been swayed to their side by attendees from lower difficulties who had finished their tutorial earlier.)
I watch as Io moves toward Malika.
(So he chose to show them his blazing power. In his pride, he believed himself strong enough and believed he’d made enough preparations. He, an Absolute candidate. And so the Fragment, for the first time since he had claimed it, awoke. It burned the body the velnar had taken such pride in, without resistance. It burned away everyone in the area.)
I get to my feet and turn toward Io, who is currently facing down Malika. Malika looks as if she is about to collapse, and Io is trying to help her.
(It set the sky of his planet on fire. Flames with nowhere to go spread downward, like rain made of heat. Oceans split. Steam carried the fire further. Rivers boiled in their beds. Forests never burned, but vanished. Cities fell in seconds. Animals ran. People ran. There was no escape. Twelve hours passed before the planet fell silent, and days more before even the most powerful tutorial attendees perished in their hiding places. And the Fragment stayed. It is still there now, burning, with no one left to burn.)
I charge at Io, activating my eyes and with [Eclipse] draining the colors from the area. Projectiles form around me and shoot forward, and I use Wraith Dance to charge, reaching him at the same moment my projectiles do.
The thylarin faces me, and the world around me shifts. All the preparations and countermeasures I’ve set up activate at once, and I feel confident that I’ve done enough to counter his ability.
But it is all for nothing, and I find myself weightless in outer space, with the asteroid base passing half a mile in front of me and the planet behind me slowly pulling me toward its burning surface.
(Such is usually the way Pride meets its end.) And even now, the last elf does not laugh.
With a burst of thermal energy, I melt the halo above my head. The voice cuts off as the metal turns to liquid, breaking into glowing droplets that drift before cooling and hardening again.
The asteroid base, now drifting farther away, looms large in my view. It’s a massive gray rock, its surface split by deep cracks that glint like they’re filled with gold. Hundreds of windows are scattered across its surface, some no bigger than my palm, others as large as the ones in the huge hangar-like room we left behind.
On the sides of the asteroid, three huge creatures are holding onto the rock. They are all entirely gray, with golden halos fixed above their heads, all of them turned to face me.