Return of the Tower Conqueror

Chapter 146: No Rest For the Wicked (IV)

Chapter 146: No Rest For the Wicked (IV)

No Rest For the Wicked (IV)

The group of fifteen had finally made its way out of the canyon, walking past two winged statues cradling the uphill entrance to the place, shrouded in thick clouds of gray mist. The world sprung open before their eyes, yet hardly any livelier than the one behind them; flatland spread out for a few miles, dread trees springing out of the dried and web-cracked earth, whereupon a forest of kind sprung up -- not one of the trees, but of tombstones.

It was difficult to call it a graveyard as each grave was well over ten feet tall, a mausoleum all on its own, with far-reaching depictions carved out into the stone. The group stopped in front of the first, cracks running across its obsidian-black surface, silver edgings giving it a frame; though they couldn't read any of the runic letters, the carving spoke a story on its own -- it depicted a man sitting cross-legged, topless, a dreadful mask mantling his face, three jet-black swords pointing at him from above.

Another depicted a pair of women, similarly topless, reaching out toward the sky with their arms, their faces veiled, backs decorated with feathered wings. Between them a sun sprung, its rays brushing against their skins.

"Anyone knows what any of these represent?" Jamal asked as he eyed a nearby tombstone depicting a man in an upright position, a pair of swords laying gently crossed against his breasts.

"I can't imagine they're any different than what we have," Ryu replied. "Fantastic depictions of mundane events. Though, I suppose, in here... they just might be actual depictions of actual events."

"Ah, yes," Senna scoffed. "Women, universally, just love stripping topless and lifting their arms up. In fact, that's what we do every time after a pillow fight..."

"It might be a ritual," Emma said with a chuckle. "Done plenty of those."

"You did rituals?"

"Pipe it, smartass. Just thinking about it, though," Emma added with a sigh. "Every single person here was likely a legendary figure in their own right. Yet... here they all are. Corralled inside a minimum squareage, barely enough room to breathe."

"More than what most get," Lukas said.

"Color me odd," Amelia interjected. "But what the hell are we doing here? What if they pop up from the ground?"

"... good idea," Kramer and Emma nodded. "Alright, leave the tombstones alone."

"Why? We so rarely get visitors these days."

"Well, that's 'cause--HOLY SHIT!!!" a group cried out as they realized there was an extra person among them. It was a man -- the same man they saw on the first tombstone. He wasn't... a ghost, at least they didn't think -- he lacked that ghostly look and instead looked to be made of flesh and bones. He was topless still, a scabbard hanging gently by his waist, his hair fluttering gently. He appeared to be in his forties, though the smiling eyes made him appear more youthful. "RUN!!!"

"Fear not," despite the man's warnings, the group still tried to run -- but found it impossible to even move. "You must be the group A--dar mentioned, on your way to save the world."

"..."

"My name is Erun," the man said. "Would you indulge me for an hour of your time? Who would have thought that death... would be so lonely?"

"... everyone?" Senna blurted out, flinching back at Emma's stern glare.

"Ha ha ha, I suppose; alas, I always imagined the death would be where I would share in the glory of my life with my kin. I still implore you to indulge me; as payment, I shall escort you to little Myeala's ward. With me around, you will be safe."

"..." the sudden offer startled the group; after all, they would very much like not to worry about being suddenly pincered by the legends residing in this place and killed immediately. "Why?" Emma suddenly asked. "If you wanted, you could just force us to stay here for an hour."

"... I don't know what A--dar told you of this place... but not everyone spending their eternity here is a brood mother of evil, Conqueror."

"Ah! And how do we know you're not evil?" Senna asked, prompting Emma to groan.

"If I was, would you even get the chance to ask?"

"... tsk."

"Fine," Emma assented after glancing at Kramer who nodded at her. "Tell us your story while you escort us. How about that?"

"... I'd be happy to," Erun chuckled suddenly as the group felt the earth beneath them fade. Against their wills, they found themselves ascended into the air, floating gently through the grimly sky, the world beneath them fading. "I entered the Crucible as a young boy -- nary thirteen full years under my belt. My world... wasn't all that different from yours... at least from what I've heard from the whispers. And neither were my kin. For six hundred and thirty-three years I struggled... until I became a Champion. The solitary star, the savior of my people. I was excited... to ascend further, take a gamble at the road toward the Divine."

"..." the group recovered somewhat from being flung up into the sky, shifting their focus back onto Erun who continued after a brief adrift into his thoughts.

"I garnered many titles over my years as a Conqueror -- Sunlight, Empty Blade, Endless Sword... and with them, my confidence was at its mightiest. I thought I could take on the whole world all by myself. But, alas, I am now here. Felled by a blade much quicker than my own, much sharper, much more precise, far more deadly, and far more heartless. At the biggest stage of my life -- Colosseum of Eternal Glory -- in front of the eyes of the thousands... I was toyed like a newborn. I gripped and grappled and struggled and tried... I believed, until the very last moment, I had something in me to push me over the hurdle.

"But there was nothing. I was lost, defeated, beaten down beyond any reason... and then killed. Next thing I knew... I was here. Somebody had built a Memory Tablet for me, drawing my soul from the Bridge and restoring its memories. I don't even know who or why. I didn't deserve it."

"... who beat you?" Jamal asked.

"... someone using the surge of stars, just like you," Erun glanced at Jamal and replied with a bitter smile. "It truly felt as though he had the whole sky of stars at his whims. It didn't feel as though I was battling another, living soul -- but some empyrean beast that the countless worlds cowed to. For many moons, I had thought it was the choice of our callings that had doomed me -- until... until I met Ar'dyzar. She was such a young, sweet girl when I first met her -- her father had tossed her into this hell as a form of training... when she was eight. She told me... she watched my fight. My last struggle. And, amidst the shine of the stars that cut me, amidst all that beauty that overwhelmed the world... she thought the way I fought was way more beautiful. So... she chose my calling, and swore she would one day avenge me."

"..."

"And she did," he chuckled. "By the time she returned to tell me... she was a woman. Breathtakingly beautiful, far more than any stars that burned me. And she showed me... showed me that my Calling was not weak -- that it was simply me. Watching her dance with the sword... I was finally able to let go and make peace with my death."

"What's your Class--I mean Calling, anyway?" Kramer suddenly asked.

"... a simple one," Erun smiled as he replied. "Swordsman."

"... huh?"

"There are no magics we employ to usurp the world," Erun continued. "No massive strikes that shake the core of the creation. We aren't even allowed to wear armor. There is only our single sword, made of the most ordinary iron... and our hearts. For the longest time, I never understood why she found my foolish mortal dance beautiful amidst the starlight. I always thought it was crude, boorish, barbarian even; but... then... I saw her dance the waltz. A tiny needle in comparison... felled the stars. You will hear many legends and myths, Conquerors, of figures who shot beams the size of planets, of legends who tapped their feet gently and caused a mountain to crumble... but... those are the weakest Conquerors. The truly strong... you never even meet. You never hear of them. Just like her. There are no plaques or statues or stories or poems commemorating her greatness; there is just a foolish man who halts strangers on their way to their own glory... just to share with them a story of a young girl who made a chunk of iron appear more beautiful than the shine of the stars themselves."

"..."

"Little Myeala... is the opposite of her," Erun added. "She will make the worlds explode and will make you rue the day you decided to embark upon this journey. But... remember. Even the tiniest of creatures can halt the tallest of giants; right now, all of you are just seedlings. You've grappled with concepts that seem to draw you in, shower you with the strength you never believed you could possess; it's easy to get lost in the sensation of something far greater than that, to start believing you will never match it. Don't let the terror shake your hearts," the man added as they suddenly came to a stop, continuing to levitate above a mist-shaded building beneath them. "True strength is like true beauty -- in the eye of the beholder. Shall you return from your campaign victorious, I shall share more of my story with you. Little Myeala always rejected my teachings -- hopefully... you won't too. Farewell, fledgling Conquerors, and I pray we meet again."

A blinding flash of light suddenly enveloped the group as they, a mere second later, felt the ground beneath their feet once again. They slowly opened their eyes, one by one, and looked at the front -- there, an iron gate dyed in jet-black with ruby gems decorating its surface in a form of strange patter stood. It was nearly sixty feet tall, walled on both ends, and gave off a sensation of age beyond reason. Yet, what froze the blood in their veins was not the gate -- but the sensation of Mana coming out from beyond it, one so powerful and overbearing they felt they would suffocate if they took just one step forward. Yet... they knew they had to take that step... or they'd forever be walking in place.

"Let's go," Emma took a deep breath and donned the role of being the first to inch closer toward the gates. "Don't be afraid," she added, glancing back at others and smiling gently. "I'm right here."