Zac stepped off the platform, taking in the fresh air of Earth. It felt like the sweetest perfume after smelling nothing but ash, steel, and blood for over two months. The honeymoon phase after dealing a blow to the Kan’Tanu had been woefully short, and the shocking appearance of the Kan’Tanu Pope hadn’t stopped the battles at the lower levels. If anything, the Alliance was desperate to communicate they weren’t backing down.

The worry hidden in the corners of the frontline soldiers’ eyes was present in his subordinates back home. Alliance had tried to keep things under wraps, but how could the Kan’Tanu pope’s terrifying prowess be kept under wraps? Three Field Armies had been annihilated to the last man, turned into fodder for a Heart Curse the size of a planet.

Even then, the common populace didn’t know just how bad it actually was. Zac had pieced together the truth by extracting snippets from his many connections over the past month. Dozens of Monarchs had fallen during the assault, including three of the extremely limited Late-stage Monarchs of the sector. Two more Late Monarchs were grievously wounded. With their advanced ages, they were essentially out for the count.

In addition, multiple Clan-protecting relics had been expended to drive back the bloody pope and his subordinates. Altogether, it was a devastating blow to Zecia’s peak strength and a painful reminder that numbers couldn’t make up for raw strength in the Multiverse. When the pope returned, there would be fewer guardians to hold him off. If they failed, Zecia would have another Eventide Asura event on their hands.

The outsiders didn’t participate in the battle, though Zac had to admit they had a hand in making the Kan’Tanu back off. It wasn’t out of benevolence or camaraderie. They couldn’t let the war end early, as it was the best way to form Karma with the upcoming event. Ideally, they wanted a stalemate, where their champions could gather fate by wantonly butchering natives in a locked war.

If you needed to find something good coming from the disaster, it would be that the added pressure acted as a catalyst for growth. Everyone was feeling the pressure, the abject weakness before the Kan’Tanu’s peak masters. It broke the spirits of some, but hearts had been tempered by close to a year of constant battle.

His subordinates were no different and used the suffocating pressure as fuel for change. They worked harder than ever, and not just the soldiers. Zac could barely recognize the war camp as he passed through it on his way to the teleportation station. It had been completely rehauled, turning into a monolith of steel and impregnable strength.

The ingenious designs would be familiar to anyone who had visited the Ensolus Ruins or any other remnant of the Limitless Empires. The bases were simplified versions of the ancient schematics Galau brought back from the fortress.

The designs collected in the Sixth Centurion Lighthouse and Galau’s insights into arrays triggered an industrial revolution. Ishiate Tinkerers, Volor Stoneturtles, and artisans worked tirelessly to expand their operations. Millions were hired to open up huge foundries on Pangea and Ensolus, and the first prototypes had already left the production line. It wasn’t enough to change the overarching direction of the war, but it would make the Atwood Empire’s upcoming ascension smoother.

The three designs far beyond the Atwood Empire’s capabilities, which they provided the Alliance free of charge, could potentially nudge things in Zecia’s favor, though Zac wasn’t overly optimistic. He’d seen the schematics and their unbelievable intricacy. Construction would take years of trial and error, if it could be done at all.

Nevertheless, Galau was personally making great strides since joining his ranks. His war designation became Chief Engineer, and his seal quests were progressing even faster than Zac’s shipyard quests. He’d given up on any hopes of becoming a true Merchant already, shifting his goal to becoming a titan of the arms industry.

There were still a few hours before the meeting, and Zac didn’t want to seclude himself in his cave until then. The course had already been set, and he would spend enough time in seclusion already. Instead, Zac toured his Empire, visiting cities on both Ensolus and Earth. It was impossible to escape the notices plastered everywhere, and the messages were always the same.

Half were the recruitment posters for the army and its support branches. The second was the upgrade notice. In three days, Earth would ascend, becoming a Middle D-grade world. The notices urged everyone to stay calm during the upheavals. Zac had already seen recordings of F- and E-grade worlds. The upgrade didn’t create much of a commotion, but the energy levels involved were far lower than what Earth would face.

Zac walked unnoticed among the populace despite his unique Draugr appearance, thanks to the shrouding items he wore. Eventually, he found himself before an institution he hadn’t visited before; Blackwood College. It made him recall a few matters. He deactivated his equipment, which caused some commotion among the guards until they realized who had just popped out of nowhere.

“Emperor Umbri’Zi!” the Revenant soldiers greeted with respectful bows.

Blackwood College was one of Elysium’s elite training grounds and where many of the martially endowed Revenants ended up after their six-month general orientation. Raising undead citizens was quite different from their living counterparts, at least in Port Atwood, where the naturally-born undead still made up less than one percent.

A Revenant raised from a cultivator could technically restart their journey the moment their spirit awoke, and madness gave way to sapience. However, these people were blank slates, ignorant of everything you’d normally learn as you grew up. As such, newly awakened had to go through a comprehensive course that would allow them to function in society.

It sounded almost impossible to impart the upbringing, experience, and basic education that young adults possessed in such a short time. Then again, awakened Revenants were born with fully-formed minds and bodies, and the orientation’s first two weeks were a training course that allowed them to get used to their bodies while gaining levels and a few titles.

At that point, they’d have enough attributes to be considered unprecedented geniuses in a pre-integration society, and they rapidly soaked up everything they needed to know. It even seemed as though they were re-learning as much as learning, with their predecessors’ experiences becoming something akin to instinct. Still, orientation would normally last three full years to provide better foundations and give them more time to find themselves.

That wasn’t possible with Zecia’s current situation. They had no choice but to accelerate the process so the awakened could graduate to military training camps, factories, or the many other departments that screamed for manpower. Only those displaying the greatest potential could continue their studies in elite institutions such as the Blackwood College or the Atwood Academy.

“Good work. Don’t mind me,” Zac said to the guards, smiling as he saw Pika run over.

“Lord Atwood, we weren’t expecting you today,” Pika said. “Are you performing an inspection? Is it the Echelon Class?”

Zac nodded after some thought. “In a bit. I’m here to see Max first. Where is he?”

“Max? He should be on the Sword Plateau,” Pika said, her head gaining a hesitant tilt before continuing with a whisper. “He’s… confused. There is something wrong with his weapon.”

“I heard. I’ll deal with it; you don’t need to accompany me,” Zac said.

“I’ll arrange everything with the Echelon Class, then,” Pika said and hurried away.

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The world darkened and time slowed to a crawl as Zac activated Abyssal Drive, careful not to impact the students and teacher with its domain. It wasn’t difficult finding the Sword Plateau despite not knowing the layout. It resembled a large sparring platform in the woods behind the main building. Three array pillars surrounded it, each emitting sharp auras.

It was a training array that could conjure large numbers of flying swords that would attack anyone atop the platform. You could meet the onslaught alone or in the group, and you could train anything from battle technique to evasion within. Since the arrays were made based on the Dao of Swords, cultivators could also search for inspiration in the heat of battle.

Right now, the array wasn’t running, and the area would have felt abandoned if not for the young man sitting atop one of the pillars with a shortsword in his lap. Zac felt a twang in his heart as he saw the familiar features. He didn’t know why he felt the need to see the young swordsman, but he knew better than carrying this knot when entering seclusion. He might be overprepared for his upcoming breakthrough, but that didn’t mean it would be easy or fast. This time, he didn’t have the Perennial Vastness to help out.

There were also troubling reports of Max talking with the sword when he thought no one was looking. There were no signs of mental issues, but the doctors felt it possible something went wrong because of the rare resources that went into Max’s awakening. That splinters of his previous soul were lodged in the depth of his aperture, causing a mental illness resembling schizophrenia.

Seeing Max this close up, Zac had another theory. The easiest way to uncover the truth was to apply some pressure. Zac shot right for the boy, only returning to his corporeal form at the last second. Murderous intent covered the plateau as Love’s Bond descendedtoward the boy’s head in a brutal arc.

————

Max sat in silence, feeling the buffeting of Second Wind against his mind. It helped calm his nerves. He didn’t know why he’d been so on edge today. He’d heard the whispers among the custodians. Something had gone wrong with the war. However, those matters felt distant and abstract. It wasn’t the source of his unease.

He sometimes missed the days before the clouds in his mind parted. It was only him and his companion, free from any errant thoughts or troubling matters. Every day, he learned something new, and the joy of discovery had started to turn into a suffocating pressure. The world was growing too fast. He didn’t even know himself, so taking it all in was becoming too much.

These escapes into the wilderness, where it was only him and the Dao, were the only thing that kept it from spilling over. Max smiled as Second Wind incorporated another sliver from the pillar. At least he wouldn’t be alone forever.

The tranquility was broken by a roiling wave of deadly peril. Max gaped in fear upon seeing a terrifying man appear before him, reeking such bloodlust the ichor in his veins froze over. Yet Max’s arm moved on instinct like he’d been in this situation a thousand times before. The shortsword rose to meet the descending edge. More than ever, Second Wind felt like an extended part of him.

Reacting in time wasn’t enough. Instructor Dwayne would have shaken his head, complaining about form without purpose. How could you bring out your true strength when your heart was in turmoil?

Rationally understanding the problem didn’t magically solve it. The immense force within the axe was like a collapsing mountain, and Max felt like every bone in his body would break as he was thrown off the pillar and into the arena. The pain helped dispel all errant thoughts, at least, allowing the training to kick in. Max rolled to his feet, his sword held in a defensive position as he found his bearings.

His attacker was already standing before him, his features hidden by a cloak and a haze of Death. Powerful, incredibly powerful. Max listened for the footsteps of guards running over, but the forest was deathly silent. It was as though the arena had been cut off from the world and his chances at survival with it.

“Who—”

His question was answered with more violence. The gleaming axehead moved in for the kill, the intent imbued in the strike far surpassing the murderous air of the visiting veterans. Yet the sharper the Killing Intent levied against him, the louder the swordhymns grew in his ears. Max followed its urgings, meeting the overbearing attack with a glancing deflection that allowed him to move within his larger opponent’s reach.

Where a fist was waiting.

Max saw his impending doom, yet his body wasn’t ready to give in. A narrow dodge reset the battlefield, yet the pressure immediately returned. Max desperately endured, but he felt his grip on reality slipping. The swordhymns were joined by roars and flashes of unfamiliar scenes of foreign lands. Of furious struggle, of twisted faces glaring at him from the other side of a set of clashing weapons. Second Wind felt burning hot in his hands, a fire that gave him the courage to fight back against this terrifying opponent. Dreams and reality converged as Max followed the call as though possessed. Follow current novels on NovlFre.et

Yet it wasn’t enough. Whether real or fake, Max was being suffocated as he steadily lost ground. Max could as well have been fighting ten people from how the axe seemed to be everywhere at once. Even then, his mind settled as he was pushed closer to the inevitable end. Now that a few seconds had passed, Max understood the truth. If this man wanted him dead, he’d be dead after the first exchange.

This was a test.

“Not bad,” the man said when Max finally couldn’t resist and removed the cowl hiding his features.

The previously calmed heart threatened to jump out of Max’s mouth as he stared into the pitch-black eyes of the warrior. They felt like the true expression of Death. The true face of the very land he stood on.

He was such an idiot! Why didn’t he realize sooner?

“H—hello, Emperor!”

Max had assumed it was another veteran Headmistress Pika had brought to share their experiences and insights with the students. Maybe he’d seen Max sitting atop the pillar and decided to test him out. To think it was Arcaz Umbri’Zi, the ruler of the whole Empire!

The realization brought a new dimension to the questions he’d grappled with over the past months. Of the inexplicable treatment he enjoyed. He was no slouch, and he did work hard on his swordplay. But he couldn’t hold a candle to the talents of the Echelon Classes. So why the special treatment? And what about the other odd things he’d noticed?

Was he really someone special in his past life?

“Do you know me?” Emperor Umbri’Zi asked as his axe transformed into a beautiful necklace.

“Uh,” Max hesitated, his soul trembling under the intense stare. Was it a test? “N—no. I don’t remember anything from my past life. But there’s only one person with your eyes. Th—there’s a painting of you in the commissary.”

“Hm,” the Emperor nodded, his expression growing distant.

Max couldn’t bear the silence or the questions rattling in his mind.

“Can—can I ask who I was before I died?” Max asked.

“You should have been given the report.”

All reanimated citizens were given a file on their old life, containing a brief description of their past selves. It was up to them whether they read the report or not and whether they wanted to apply to meet their predecessor’s family. The situation with the Echelon Class seemed different, but Max was normal in this regard.

Of course, he’d looked. Who wouldn’t be curious about their background? Max also believed it held the answers he sought about Second Wind. Why did he awaken with a weapon already bonded with his soul? However, the short life story in the file had left Max sorely disappointed.

“It doesn’t make sense,” Max pressed. “According to the report, I was a nobody. So why do I retain more of my cultivation than the others? Why do I have access to better resources? Is the report fake? Who am I?“

Emperor Umbri’Zi didn’t immediately answer. Eventually, he sighed and shook his head. “A nobody? He had friends, family. Companions who trusted their backs to him. He was hard-working. He had aspirations. He wasn’t a nobody. His journey simply ended early. That doesn’t mean he didn’t leave a mark or matter.”

“Then… it’s true?” Max said, his eyes glazing over as he felt the fantasies he’d built come crumbling down.

He’d often daydreamed his differences came from a hidden identity. Maybe he was the son of one of the Empire’s generals. The truth of his origin was obscured to protect him, and he was left Second Wind as a safeguard. One day, they’d step through the gates of the Blackwood College and bring him home.

It was all nonsense.

The Emperor shook his head, and Max gasped as he felt Second Wind fly out of his hand.

“I understand things don’t make sense right now. The best explanation I can give is that Karma connects us. I was the one who gave you this sword when you were a human child who hadn’t stepped onto the road of cultivation. It was a chance encounter, and I didn’t see you again until the moment you fell in battle. You died the day I returned.”

The sword returned to Max’s side, and he breathed out as he felt whole again. Yet he didn’t know what to think. His treatment was simply the result of a coincidence? A simple word from the Emperor, and he could enjoy unearned benefits. However, the next words from the Emperor blew the gloom away.

“Are you willing to take me as your master? You’d become my second disciple after Emily Larkin.”

“Disciple?” Max’s eyes lit up before a cloud of hesitation put a lid on the excitement. He glanced at the necklace around the Emperor’s neck. “Would I have to…?”

“You don’t need to switch to an axe,” the Emperor laughed. “I’m walking the path of conflict. The axe is how I understand this Dao. There is nothing preventing you from doing the same with the sword. Besides, I’m pretty hands-off. I won’t interfere with what direction you take.”

What else were there to say?

“I’m willing!”