Chapter 827 (2/2)

Maybe Lucretia was right. In a lot of ways, Randidly had lost touch with the baseline of the System. He had always fought against ancient monsters and warriors from higher cohorts. How much would he have given for a piece of equipment that gave him 50 Stats when he had first started out in the System…?

Probably a lot.

“Okay. Now that you have officially come and broken the equipment economy, why are you here?” Lucretia asked after she had stowed away all of her materials. “I appreciate you checking up on me, but you have the sort of face you only have on when you have a dumb idea.”

While grinning, Randidly explained.

Which resulted in Lucretia chuckling. “Bold. Pointlessly dangerous. But hmm. Yes, I do believe I can travel outside of you once more on Tellus. Would you like me to head out now?”

*****

The First Propagator considered itself to be a true creature, one that deserved a name. But it did not have a name.

This realization turned out to be deeply disturbing to it. For it could not find a reasonable reason for the oversight up until now. Everything had a name. Why didn’t it?

Clicking its mandibles, the First Propagator turned and looked at the pale-faced and sweating Azriel as she struggled to absorb its prior images. Already, the toll of holding so many images within her body was beginning to show. Her hair was black and frail, and her eyes dulled to the color of mud. She had not spoken in an hour. She simply shuddered and blinked, struggling in some inner battle.

But, the First Propagator was pleased to note, she was continuing to absorb the images smoothly. That was all that mattered.

Not that the First Propagator didn’t care that Azriel was in pain. She was, after all, its first creation that relied mostly on external influences. It had only guided her at critical moments, moving her toward her current self. It was a study in restraint, and the First Propagator was very pleased with the outcome.

But above all, results were the most important. Azriel’s life was valuable, but not as much as escaping the purgatory the Spearman had doomed them to. It was time for Tellus to ascend.

Satisfied that Azriel was proceeding as planned, the First Propagator continued to ponder the mystery of a name as it walked out into the great hall where it had assembled part of its forces. Before having Azriel absorb the image, the First Propagator had used the image to animate some of the Wights that were laying around in the surrounding area.

Waiting there were a dozen Witch Kings as well as Aegiant and Aethon.

“They are coming, of that, I have no doubt,” Aegiant said as he folded his arms. He eyed the Wights standing around with suspicion and pushed one to the ground. Satisfied as it simply stood itself back up and resumed its harmless at-attention stance, Aegiant turned to the First Propagator. “Will these forces be able to hold their own against the spear-users of Tellus? We are the most powerful group in the universe.”

“They will buy time,” The First Propagator said mildly. He did not trust Aegiant, but it was undeniable that the man was powerful. Aside from itself, the Propagator believed that Aegiant was the most powerful of those who fought for its side. “All we need is time and Azriel will ascend. Then Tellus will be able to prove itself worry of notice to the universe.”

Aegiant grunted and then continued to mess with the Witch Kings.

Slowly, Aethon gave Aegiant a sidelong glance and spoke. “Are you sure they will come? Isn’t their goal to have Tellus ascend as well? If we need not fight, I would prefer to stay back.”

“Bah, so modest.” Aegiant grin was all shark teeth and hunger. “Even if you are recently risen to the rank of Master, you have talent. Do not worry about death.”

“I don’t worry about death,” Aethon said harshly. “I worry over pointlessly spilled blood. We have had enough of that, to date.”

The First Propagator nodded sagely. “They will come. The Spearman has been twisted by his own selfish desire. He will not stop until he can control this entire world.”

“So we fight,” Aegiant agreed. Aethon looked at the ground.

The First Propagator signaled the Wights waiting outside the door with clicks of its mandibles. In neat rows, hundreds of Witch Kings stamped their feet, awaiting their orders. “So we fight.”