Kieran took Scar’s reasonable advice to heart, mulling over those words while staring at Adeia’s statue. If he were to break the rules, he would need undeniable power to support his actions, for the consequences would be grave — likely the ire of the Watcher in the Sky.

…If it got to that point.

Currently, Kieran couldn’t picture it getting that out of hand. Then again, he was no prophet. Ah, but he was a Harbinger, destined to be the tide that swept through the sea of fate, unsteadying everything in his wake.

“How did all this ** come to rest on my shoulders?”

Kieran scratched his head. He was disgruntled, but he didn’t exactly hate his situation. It was better than dying and not existing anymore. But in this life…

‘I don’t know, it all feels so damned strange and surreal. Why didn’t my life feel anything like this before?’

The thought drilled at his mind, irritating him to no foreseeable end, which made Kieran chuckle.

‘Ironic… I am the End.’

Sparing Adeia one last lingering glance, Kieran closed his eyes and made a vow to himself that no one else could hear. He did not know if he’d ever come to fulfill this sort of promise, but he wanted to.

‘Am I being a bit delusional?’

Perhaps he was, but Kieran chose to believe he wasn’t. He was keeping a promise, not to himself, but to the words he had spoken. Inside the War Phantasmagoria, he said some pretty audacious words to Adeia, claiming to set her free in the future.

Scar’s advice had firmed his resolve to make that a reality.

But there were naturally a few issues barring his path. How would he get the Bloodied Font to let him back inside the War Phantasmagoria? How would he convince Veradin to let him into the sanctuary safeguarding the Bloodied Font? But most pressing of all… what stage of power must he reach to set Adeia’s Spirit free?

Kieran had no clue about the first two but hypothesized about the final constraint.

‘If we go by her personality, the one I met inside the Trial, not the deformed shell inside the Phantasmagoria… she’d want me to overcome her on equal ground.’

With that, Kieran decided what Realm of power he’d reach before attempting to free Adeia — a Master.

Then, Kieran stepped back from the statue and looked down the corridor leading to the central sanctum of the Hero’s Sanctuary.

As he looked at palatial structures occupying the fringe of the Hero’s Sanctuary, Kieran was suddenly reminded of Isadora. He felt the urge to peek in and see what she had been up to in his absence.

He wanted it to be a quick visit — a harmless check-in inspired by pure, innocent thoughts and certainly not extortion.

‘No way. There’s no way I would attempt to have her not make me choose who to accept as her successor to her Alchemical Legacy or try to swindle her out of more recipes.’

The thought gave Kieran pause. Would she agree to that, or were his designs too outlandish? Maybe, but he could always do with some additional potions to help in the moment.

Soon, Kieran convinced himself he would visit her quickly.

The Old Myths conversed amongst themselves as the New Myths — save for Kieran, who had yet to move — ambled toward the Hall of Teleportations, where Zaragosa acted as the Gatekeeper.

Not all of them moved with the same abandon.

Daedric seemed the most distraught of all despite Astraea insisting he stop worrying himself with the mundane feats. However, Kieran knew from their publicly aired interview that he was amidst a negotiation — perhaps in the final stages of it.

The unfortunate timing of the Trial of Inheritors likely drove a wedge in Daedric’s negotiations. The rarity of his Class was a selling point that attracted one of the more respected Guilds — Apocalypse — run by a Magnate Family.

His nearly or perhaps more than month-long disappearance could likely hamper his prospects in their eyes, especially if a player with say a powerful defensive Class filled the void he left.

‘Speaking of the defensive guys… I wonder how Bastion and Nemean’s training has been going. I hope those two oafs haven’t neglected training. Well…’

Kieran shrugged.

If they did, it was nothing to take a page out of Cardinal Weiss’ book and make it all the more harsh to really eke out every bit of their latent potential.

Aside from Daedric, who rushed across the sanctuary’s inlaid alabaster flooring, Jaeger, Aria, and Lunariel chatted about what they’d do in the coming days.

Ragnar had vanished with a flicker of bright blue lightning, likely streaking toward the Hall of Teleportations faster than anyone else. Who knew what he was up to, but it was clear he was pressed for time.

Altair, meanwhile, tarried until Kieran caught up with him.

There was a lot they could talk about, such as their experiences inside the Trial and what Paths they gained, but Kieran didn’t bring that up. Different from usual, Altair’s scarf was down, and he was frowning and looked extremely troubled.

Kieran immediately knew something was amiss and approached with heavy steps. His mind assumed the worst, which showed in the cold rage in his eyes.

“Is the guild in trouble or something?”

Altair shook his head, his expression grim, somber, and a tad disconsolate.

“While it could potentially affect the guild in the future, right now, I think it’s been pretty steady. It’s Bastion… and Nemean, too.”

Was this some sort of sick trick? Kieran staggered, and his stomach tightened as he felt a kind of paradoxical inception taking place.

Was Bastion and Nemean not just on his mind?

‘What is this? Am I turning into some sort of psychic? Someone who can predict the grim future? A… a what? Prophet of Misfortune?!’

Kieran’s mind reeled, but he found his bearings a few moments later.

“What about those two?”

“It’s not so much those two as it is Bastion. He… received some bad news. I guess his grandma isn’t doing too well, and he’s taking it as bad as you can imagine.”

Kieran didn’t speak for some time, crossing his arms to ponder.

When he first met Bastion, Kieran felt he was an extremely talented tank and wondered why he never rose to prominence.

Initially, Kieran believed it to be a lapse in his memory, or he had disappeared in the gap between Zenith Online’s launch and the year Kieran began to play it faithfully.

The onset of this tragedy suggested the truth leaned more toward Bastion having disappeared from the gaming scene before Kieran made his precipitous debut.

Kieran sighed, sympathizing with Bastion.

He must have fallen into a deep, dark depression and spiraled endlessly without ever recovering from the traumatic loss.

Then again, if this were all entirely true and not merely speculation on Kieran’s part, perhaps the same fate needn’t befall Bastion. His current support system and the people around him were incomparable to what he had before.

Kieran glanced at Isadora’s alchemy house and grimaced.

‘Looks like that’s moot for right now. Duty calls. Time to act… leaderly, or whatever.’

“Walk with me, Altair. Let’s see if we can lend a hand in our good-hearted brother’s life.”

Altair nodded.

Breaking into a sprint, Kieran and Altair darted for the Hall of Teleportation, catching the attention of Scar and the other Old Myths.

The questions came from Zephyr, who had remained silent all this time.

“What has them in such a rush? They didn’t seem particularly pressed after the Succession.”

Scar shrugged.

“I don’t know. Perhaps they have explosive diarrhea and can no longer hold it. I mean… it’s a known side effect of temporal dissonance sickness.”