Chapter 586: Delayed Gratification (1/2)

The Bodhi had stood like a beacon in the arid badlands for centuries, its vitality in a constant struggle against the desolation around it. With each turn of the seasons it was buffeted by the anguish of a dying world, but the onslaught only served to temper the purity of its conviction. The inscriptions on the golden leaves contained deeper truths every year, and its intention was clear; to bring life to this sea of suffering.

Another century passed before a wind picked up pace among the lifeless glaciers in the far east, and it met no resistance by the flat steppes as it pushed forward. The leaves of the Bodhi was once again dancing with delight from the ethereal caress, and a song of nature echoed throughout the badlands. The proclamation of the Holy Sangha was hidden among the leaves, constantly consecrating its surroundings.

The world had been on the brink of death for untold ages, but life always finds a way. A stalk of grass pushed through parched dirt, heralding the new era.

A hundred hooded beings walked forward between the Fallen Hills, each step bringing forth the rattling of chains and clattering of bones. The sun was high in the sky, blasting an uncomfortable warmth that was rapidly dispelling the soothing haze. Now and then a protector would emerge from his grave and charge at the procession, but their oath kept them bound them to their graves. They finally reached their target, the Nameless Mountain.

The hooded beings knelt in obeisance, keeping in check their desire to gaze upon the Holy Coffin. The coffin in question was the only interment on the whole mountain, as nothing could encroach on its domain. One day the black coffin had simply appeared there, and to this day no one had been able to figure out its origin. They didn’t even know who, or what was inside.

But they knew it was powerful, akin to a god.

A thud echoed out from the coffin, a thud that made the whole clergy shake with excitement. The coffin had answered their call, meaning that their plight was over. A small crack opened in the chained-up coffin, and an endless tide of darkness and pestilence surged toward the sky to meet the punishing rays of the sun.

The whole world was covered in darkness a second later, and the land was once more at peace. The clergymen once more performed the rites of obeisance before they rose to their feet. The junior acolyte finally couldn’t help himself as they started making their way out of the holy hills, and the skeleton snuck a glance at the peak of the mountain.

The coffin silently hung from its chains from the branch of a pitch-black tree, behind it a faltering sun; That was the last thing the novice Necromancer ever saw.

Zac finally remembered himself after being awash in the two visions, but his spiritual journey wasn't over there. He was shown one scene after another, not all of them from his own memories.

Many of the visions were all-too-familiar, each bringing with them a painful memory. They showcased his struggles and desperate battles, from the barghest who had found his campsite to the wolves who had surrendered just seconds ago. There were also visions of strange lands, of weird objects containing terrifying amounts of wild energies. They all beckoned to Zac, urging him to conquer the opposition and claim them as his price.

The visions were so quick that they almost turned to a blur, but he did notice one odd detail. In every single scene there was one constant; the Stele of Conflict he had conjured during his climb. Sometimes it was placed right next to the action, and other times it was discretely placed in the background.

But it was always there.

Zac tried to make sense of the scenes, but something was just out of his grasp. He was instead swept up by the heat of the battles he witnessed, and it almost felt like he had eaten another berserking treasure as he saw one scene of bloodshed after another. Something was growing inside him. Each kill was another building block, each battle setting the foundation. He was building a bridge toward the Heavens with the corpses of his enemies.

The scenes were suddenly ripped apart by a shocking flash of blue lightning, throwing him into one final vision.

A cracked dome floated in space, an impossibly large structure broken and scorched beyond repair. An infant’s cry echoed out toward the vast beyond, but it was overpowered by the roar of an endless sea of lightning. It should have ended then and there, but a hand pushed through Heaven’s Wrath and brought him away, ignoring the sizzling sounds of molten flesh and metal.

Darkness.

Only a then did Zac find himself back in his own body, and he took a ragged breath as he opened his eyes. Most of the wolves were gone, but a few new carcasses were strewn around him as Verun stood in vigil next to him. The streams of blood around its feet were mostly gone by this point though, meaning that the Tool Spirit was running out of time.

However, Zac sensed that he would be able to keep Verun around for a few minutes longer as long as it didn't need to expend a bunch of energy fighting. Seeing that he was safe for the moment Zac breathed out in relief before his mind turned to the scenes he had just witnessed. The last thing he remembered was the stream of power rushing straight for his mind, and then he was swept up in a series of visions.

He was curious about his status screen, but the state of his body took precedence. Zac had seen how his skill was attacked earlier by the initial stream of energy, and he definitely felt that something was different compared to before, prompting him to turn his sight inward. The moment he activated his spiritual sight Zac realized that drastic changes had taken place, though he couldn’t understand what the significance of the change was.