Patrick Laplante
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PU Book 3 - Chapter 91: The Order of the Ancient Ways
🕑 Added 2024-11-25 03:38:36 +0000 UTC“We, the newly established Order of the Ancient Ways, have come to collect a few items,” spoke Gareth from the base of the steps of Universitas Phantasia. “Sorin, this has nothing to do with you. Please vacate the premises as we retrieve artifacts that rightfully belong to us.”
“Gareth,” greeted Sorin as he lowered himself onto the university’s steps. “You don’t have to do this. There are plenty of enemies outside for you to fight.”
One of the former Nighthawks nocked an arrow, but Gareth waved for him to stand down. “Sorin, don’t get involved in things you don’t understand.”
Sorin chuckled. “We’ve only been apart for half a day, and already, you claim to understand more than I do?” His eyes narrowed, however, as he noted some extreme changes that had occurred inside Gareth’s body. “Interesting. The energy you control. It’s changed.”
“We’re simply here to reclaim what’s rightfully ours,” reiterated a middle-aged man beside Gareth. He had a pot belly, a heavy beard, and graying hair. “Gareth has told me many good things about you, Sorin. The changes we’ve recently internalized are largely due to your influence.”
“And who are you?” asked Sorin, provoking angry glares from members of the self-proclaimed Order of the Ancient Ways.
“They call me Night Bringer,” said the middle-aged man.
“The head of the Nighthawks,” muttered Sorin. He’d read about the man in an information folio and had been impressed. Even though he had no significant background or bloodline, he’d managed to claw his way to the peak of the Flesh-Sanctification Realm.
“The former head of the Nighthawks,” corrected the middle-aged man. “I’ve since stepped down from that role and have passed the mantle of leadership onto Gareth. He is ultimately the one who will make decisions for the Order of the Ancient Ways.
“Fine,” said Sorin. “Honestly, I have no reason to protect this university. But there are things I need to know with great urgency. Please stand down until I finish my business. That alone will be sufficient repayment.”
“Not a chance,” said Gareth before Night Bringer could answer. “Benjamin Riss is hot on our tails. He knows exactly how big of a threat we are and won’t allow us to loiter outside the university.”
Sorin sighed. “Sadly, Gareth, I can’t let a rogue law enforcement agency loot this university until I have my answers.”
Gareth shrugged. “Then we fight. Show no mercy, Sorin, because neither will we.”
There were a hundred and fifty former Nighthawks in the group. Each of them had reached at least early Flesh-Sanctification realm. A good portion had reached middle sanctification and late sanctification. A few had even reached the peak.
Sorin didn’t dare underestimate them. He was extremely familiar with Gareth’s abilities and knew them to be perfect for group engagements. He also happened to be Sorin’s bane; his abilities were extremely potent against corruption, including Sorin’s tarnished divinity.
A golden wind billowed out from behind Gareth, empowering the Order of Ancient Ways and weakening corruption in the vicinity. The Order moved with perfect synchronization, wrapping around Sorin and applying just enough pressure with their auras to keep him contained.
He’s not pulling his punches, analyzed Sorin. But he’s acting under the assumption that I’m the same man I was a half day ago. Red-Eyed Devourer—feast, but don’t kill.
Nine-thousand-nine-hundred-and-ninety-nine poisonous serpents emerged from Sorin’s body and mounted a counter-offensive. Over half of them melted away from exposure to the golden wind, leaving a full half of them to plunge into enemy bodies, infecting them with a contagious poison.
Their bodies began shutting down systematically, starting with their arms, then moving down to their legs. A single step and an activation of Medusa’s Gaze was all it took to knock out those in the early Flesh-Sanctification Realm.
Strictly speaking, disabling these people wasn’t necessary; Sorin’s body had reached the demigod tier and could no longer be harmed by such weak opponents. The reason he’d done so was to inspect their bodies. Streams of data funneled into Ophiuchan Simulation, confirming his initial guess at what Gareth had done.
“Perfection in the earlier stages is a requirement for divinity,” said Sorin, taking a second step forward. “Using your own divinity as a means of attack, you assisted the strongest of the former Nighthawks to retroactively break through.” Airborne toxins forced their way into those who’d reached middle Flesh-Sanctification, rendering them unconscious. Streams of data poured into Sorin’s mind, completing his analysis.
“Your Heroic Ability changed slightly during your retroactive breakthrough,” Sorin continued. “Your Winds of the Watchman attuned themselves to pure judgment instead of Lord Hope’s judgement, granting it the ability to purge Hope’s corruption. You convinced the Night Watcher that Lord Hope’s corruption was a latent danger and purified those strong enough to resist the erosion, restoring the pure divinity that should have originally belonged to them.”
“We don’t need Hope or any of the other Evils, Sorin,” said Gareth. He fired off a quick arrow at Sorin before continuing. “We don’t need the clans either. The bloodline of the gods pollutes humanity’s potential.”
Sorin took a third step forward; all but five of the Order of the Ancient Ways collapsed. As he did so, Sorin nocked away three of Gareth’s arrows and two of the Night Watcher’s arrows. He then spun around to deflect a sword aimed at his back but froze halfway as a mental attack dazed him.
The sword bit into his shoulder and carved a one-inch gouge into his flesh. Blood poured out of the wound and attacked the weapon; to his credit, the swordsman stabbed the blade into Sorin before dropping the now-useless weapon.
Five more arrows were on their way; Sorin tried to block them, but once again froze before he could complete his motions. Three of them sank into his chest, while the other two pierced his throat, only to shatter as they reached his spine and melt away as Sorin’s body squirmed to heal itself.
“Your coordination is impeccable,” Sorin confessed as he weaved threads of poison in his vicinity. Golden winds eroded the web but were unable to wear it away quickly enough to interrupt the cycle of life and death that Sorin had infused into them.
A spear appeared for the first time since the beginning of the battle. It crackled with familiar lightning that Sorin would recognize anywhere. “A member of the Zeiss Clan? Really?”
“From a far-away branch, cut off due to not having met bloodline requirements,” said an old man with tied-back hair. “Thanks to the damage to Hope’s shackles, I am finally able to use as much as ten percent of my bound strength. More than enough to see you dead.”
Sorin laughed and stepped forward to meet the spear. Thousands of serpents emerged as the mentalist in the group attacked him yet again. He met her wave of psionic energy with his own brand of mental poison. The mentalist collapsed as Sorin met the man’s spear with his own.
The Zeiss Clansman’s body was strong and even forced Sorin three feet back. Five more arrows came Sorin ‘s way as he scrambled to catch his footing. This time, Sorin even felt a hint of threat.
“Lorimer, intercept the one on the right!”
“Reee!” The newly transformed rat widened his mouth and swallowed the arrow full of vicious energy. “Ree ree ree!” screamed the rat, retreating into Sorin’s pocket.
“An arrowhead composed of foreign and incompatible energy,” said Sorin to Gareth. “You’d better hope he recovers, for your new Order’s sake.”
“Figures,” said Gareth, pulling out a blunt axe. It screamed with the same vicious energies as the arrow. “Unfortunately, arrowheads and blades made with that energy are difficult to sharpen.” He launched himself at Sorin and hacked downward with the axe.
Feeling threatened for the second time since the start of the battle, Sorin sent two large serpents out to intercept the axe. One was laced with Disease, while the other was laced with Death.
He also raised Nemesis to meet the weapon just in case. His caution was rewarded when the axe effortlessly cleaved through the poisonous serpents and smashed into Nemesis, causing the soul-bound treasure to track.
“That’s a first,” said Sorin, noting that his soul-bound treasure was having trouble healing. “That’s the first time anything’s ever caused Nemesis to crack.”
“Tch.” Gareth tossed the axe to the ground as it crumbled away. “Likewise, this is the first time the Primordial Titan Axe we found in a ruin was ever damaged. Irreparably so.”
“That’s life, I suppose,” said Sorin. Pythons erupted from his body and bit the swordsman, Gareth, and the Night Watcher, leaving Sorin to catch a lightning-infused spear with his bare hands.
His skin hissed and crackled as poison travelled through his hands and into the spear, melting it away and doing the same to the flesh on the man’s hands. “Is Aaron Zeiss still alive?” asked Sorin.
The man spat. “As if a recluse like me would know.”
Sorin smirked and kicked the man in the chest, knocking him down. Flesh melted away from where his foot had struck. “I ask you again, is Aaron Zeiss alive?”
The old man hesitated but nodded. “Yes. Most definitely.”
“And where is he now?” Sorin continued.
The man looked toward Mount Olympus floating in the sky. “Without a doubt, he’s escaped to his former palace, as is proper.”
“Thank you for your honesty,” said Sorin. “For that, I will spare you.” He flicked his fingers, and another poisonous python plunged into the man’s body, rendering him unconscious. “Tell me, Gareth, should I kill you? Should I kill these people? I’m not in the business of mercy.”
Gareth laughed hysterically. “Does it even matter if we die? Without those weapons, all hope it lost.”
Sorin sighed. “Like I said, I wasn’t going to stop you. The answer is simply too important.”
“And what if,” came a voice from atop the university stairs, “their presence is necessary to confirm your answer?”
Sorin’s eyes narrowed as he looked up at the unfathomable figure who’d spoken. The middle-aged woman had a timeless look in her eyes. An owl stood on her shoulder, and from it came a field that tolerated no lies.
“I came here to see Astley,” said Sorin, pulling his poisons back into his body. The men on the ground groaned as they rose to their feet. “I have questions, and she has answers. How should I call you? I wasn’t aware that a figure of your power would be present.”
“You my call me Wise One, as everyone else does,” said the woman. “As for my power, how else would the Order of Phantasia survive to this day despite its heretical dealings?”
Gareth stepped forward and bowed. “Thank you for agreeing to meet us. We came here with a request—”
“You came here,” said the woman, petting her disgruntled owl on the head. “To rob us. That is an undeniable truth.
“I—"
“You came here,” continued the woman, “despite knowing that a demigod with an Olympian Bloodline was guarding the university. A foolish move. Diplomacy would have been a much wiser approach.”
Gareth gritted his teeth. “The university is historically very protective of its artifacts. That’s all despite the fact that such pure artifacts can only be utilized by uncorrupted individuals.”
“Uncorrupted,” muttered the Wise One. “A strange word given recent finding.”
“I—”
“We will allow you to take away these weapons, assuming, of course, that you are able to take them,” said the Wise One.
“You—what?!” exclaimed Gareth. “You’ll give them to us?”
The Wise One shrugged. “Honestly, they’re useless to us save to test a few hypotheses. Hypotheses that can be proven by your successful activation of said weapons.
“That said, you won’t be taking all all the weapons away. You may take one each, depending on your capabilities. Capabilities I’m afraid are far lower than you imagine.”
“As for you,” said the Wise One to Sorin. “You should first witness the process and give Astley some time to recover.”
Sorin frowned. “Did something happen to her?”
The Wise One shook her head. “The truth was simply hard on her. Both mentally and physically. Even I spent a full minute unconscious after witnessing it.
“Knowing this, are you sure you wish to know the answer to the riddle that’s teased you for so long?”
“I’m sure,” answered Sorin without hesitation.
“Then come,” said the Wise One. “The conflict will soon escalate to the point that demigods will be seen as prey. Revealing this truth now will be my final act as the guardian of this university.”
“Where will you go?” asked Sorin, pretending he didn’t already know the answer.
“There’s only one place to go when you’ve reached my level,” said the Wise One, pointing up. “But combat was never my strong suit, and Pandora’s Box has ever enjoyed conflict. My only chance at succeeding is to obtain a lucky breakthrough somewhere on the mountain. The city of the gods must have something that will let me bridge the gap between a demigod and a true deity.”
Sorin nodded in agreement and followed he Wise One and her followers up the steps of the university. Gareth and his companions stumbled behind him as they slowly regained the function of their limbs.
