The Harvester - Chapter 435: Wretches

Rakna squinted his eyes as the massive undead excavated itself out of the ground. It was a skeleton so massive it dwarfed the biggest of mountains. It might have been as big as a small country.

Its spine was abnormally large and it had several horns jutting out from its slightly elongated skull, with even more spikes behind them, sticking out in seemingly random ways.

It stood on two legs, hunchbacked as if constantly balancing its own weight, and with a tail stiffly swaying. It had hundreds of ribs and inner bones, likely artificially implanted by its summoner to increase its overall defense and integrity.

A black aura of death billowed out from its mouth after breathing out its attack just now and every bone on its body was enshrouded in dark purple energy.

‘Some kind of bipedal, wingless dragon?’ Rakna furrowed his eyebrows. ‘No, the head is similar but its body structure is too strange. And some of its shapes… an antelope maybe?’

“Pasqat,” Tarnished Death’s voice echoed as he arose from behind the skeleton, his staff glowing in his grip. “That is the name of this creature’s species. Pasqat’Uvat to be exact. They lived in packs, roaming galaxies, and would hibernate inside the core of stars every millennium.”

Rakna fell silent as the Fiend softly stepped onto the skeleton’s head.

“{…that doesn’t sound like any beast I know of,}” Fray remarked warily.

“Naturally,” Tarnished Death retorted, effortlessly hearing the fabulist’s soul telepathy. “They are beyond extinct. They lived and died alongside the Lost Era.”

The werewolf’s eyebrow twitched. “Another one, huh? Are Fiends part of the ‘relics’ then?”

Tarnished Death’s concentric eyes rotated emotionlessly. “Nay. Timaiyin-Munti created us,” he explained calmly. Unlike how Rakna expected a being like him to be, he seemed almost too gentle; calmly answering his question.

The emotions in his eyes were hollow, but not empty. They existed somewhat. And nothing about it seemed condescending or disdainful. He observed the werewolf as neither an equal, superior, or inferior. But… there was something that felt alien.

“Our kind’s secret lies in our material,” he uttered. “Much like the Phantasms who grew like mold on the defunct souls of the Lost Era, we similarly derived our birth from it.”

“…then what are you made out of?” Rakna narrowed his eyes as Lilith listened worriedly to their conversation, confused.

“If the Dead turned into Phantasms, then you could say the Living turned into us,” Tarnished Death stated. “Of course, barely anything survived the fall of the Original Era. The few that did, stand equal to the likes of Enders and the Almighty One. Regardless, that has nothing to do with us. Below the survivors and atop the miserable; that is where we lay.”

“…”

“The wretches who lost their bodies but clung to their souls with enough power to preserve their continued existence,” the Fiend said. “Obviously, not all maintained that state for long. Over the course of a few millennia spent in ruins slowly being overtaken by the voracious Meuro, less than a hundredth remained ‘alive’. And that lasted until the seed planted by the Almighty One grew into the Tree that it is today.”

“That seems to be the common equalizer for all of you,” Rakna commented.

“Certainly. The Spiritual Tree sent a pulse once it was ready. The ruins of the Era were sewn together, Meuro was repelled, and the First Reality was made. The Phantasms awoke. And the wretched souls found each other… becoming one.”

“Timaiyin-Munti, I assume,” the werewolf voiced.

Tarnished Death affirmed with a tilt of his head. “Our progenitor inherited living remnants of the Lost Era and rebuilt themself into something compatible with the new Order. I am not privy, nor particularly interested in knowing why they did it, but the Archfiend divided itself afterward and created us, imparting to each the legacy of a few wretches.”

The Fiend spread his arms slowly and stared at Rakna blankly. “I, who stands before you, have not one, but three names. Maklen, The Life Cultist. Prasminta, The Sky Heaven Saint. And Zafas, Grand Elder of Afla.”

“…that’s why your soul looks like that,” Rakna said, his Crystal Sight and his Tenth Tail allowing him to peer into Tarnished Death’s ‘roots’. One could barely call it a soul, in fact.

If the theory is made that every living thing in Existence possesses one, it is also plenty possible to admit the notion of mutations according to the person. Hans, for instance, had a soul excessively removed from common sense.

In Tarnished Death, Rakna saw a haunting vision. It was like a body bleeding three different colors and drinking them at the same time. Frankly, the image was as abstract as it got, since these were the only words that could translate what his Crystal Sight and Nephilim Tail showed him.

“No… that’s not what’s truly bothering me,” Rakna retorted to himself. “Why is it that this bleeding soul of yours… is so bright?” He questioned and the Fiend gave him a curious glance.

“Why would it not be?” His disembodied voice almost sounded amused. “Maklen worships life at its finest. Prasminta embraces the Heavenly Sky. Zafas researches Freedom itself. What is wrong with any of it? Is it not innocent?”

“…” Rakna closed his mouth. ‘Right. Innocent. That’s the word,’ he thought to himself. He had been reading Tarnished Death’s soul since earlier with his Sub-Path. He could say without a doubt that he was neither lying nor being misleading. His soul was literally that; innocent.

“You do not understand what Fiends are,” Tarnished Death added good-naturedly. “Would you be interested in knowing who constitutes the core personality of Timaiyin-Munti?”

“…who?”

“Yeira Hiel, The Supreme Saint. The most benevolent, kind, and forgiving messiah that has ever lived. The total number of lives she has saved exceeds the capacity of entire worlds.”

At this point, beside the silent Sentinel, even Lilith was stunned. She didn’t need to know anything complicated to be able to catch up to this stage of the conversation.

‘What are we even fighting then…?’ She asked herself. To her, the image in front of her was the very epitome of evil. Even if the undead Pasqat was currently docile, she couldn’t ignore how the death force it exuded made her body shiver in horror.

When she looked at Tarnished Death’s eyes, on the other hand, all she felt was a subdued sense of doom. Half of her mind, which her Agni adhered to, demanded her to purge this creature. But the other was anxious for no specific reason.

She then looked down at her ravaged planet and gritted her teeth. ‘Innocence…? What is that even supposed to mean? A joke? A taunt?’

Before her thoughts could devolve further, a particularly violent wave of power twisted the air and she looked to her right in surprise, just in time to see a dome of lunar energy exploding. It was far from their location, but it was big enough to rise over the Earth’s curvature.

And above it, she spotted Soma whose bow was releasing arcs of silver light.

Rakna turned his head slightly and made eye contact with the Moon God across the distance. They wordlessly confirmed each other’s situations until Soma promptly plunged down after his attack was split by a slash of fire.

“…if I understand correctly,” the werewolf muttered and looked back at Tarnished Death. “Are you implying that Fiends do not have malicious intent?”

“Some do. Most do not,” the wielder of death said indifferently. “We are innocent because that is all we can be. We are wretches that were too weak to maintain sanity under the calamity that befell the Original Era. But we survived. We united. We changed. We intruded upon the new Laws drafted by the Spiritual Tree. That is why; Innate Order rejects us.”

“We do not belong anywhere; that concept itself became the Law. Unlike the Phantasms who degenerated like dying rats, we rose above. We are in opposition to the Spiritual Tree by our very nature. No matter how evil, cruel, or wrong I appear to you, I will be innocent… Because, as far as my soul can interpret, I’m justly revolting against my oppressor.”

“Aah… for fuck’s sake,” Rakna abruptly cursed under his breath, startling Lilith. His fur glimmered purple for a second before it was replaced by a flood of Lunisolar Blaze. “Why can’t any of you just say, ‘I’m a big bad guy’, and be done with it?”

“…” Tarnished Death tilted his head slightly.

“Phantasms want to reset everything, Abyss Téra want to swallow everything, and Fiends want to destroy everything… and each believes themselves rightful… I’d like to meet someone who wants to rule the world for once,” he joked with a blank tone.

“…you will come to realize fools like that only exist on a small scale,” Tarnished Death replied blankly. “Though I have heard rumors of the Royal Phantasms getting slightly greedy.”

The werewolf grinned. “Is that so?” He snorted and glanced at Lilith who was looking between the two of them with fear and confusion. “Lilith,” he called and she stiffened. “I will explain everything once we’re done with this whole thing. Are you ready?”

The demoness looked stunned for a brief moment, but her expression turned resolute once again soon after. “I… don’t need any explanation,” she spoke up and clenched her sabers. “I don’t need to know anything. I trust you.”

Rakna chuckled while Tarnished Death watched on, his thoughts unknown. “One last question for you before we begin,” the werewolf said as he focused on his enemy. “Let’s say you win the battle against us, and take over my body in the ‘Waking World’ as you put it, what will you do?”

“With a vessel of your caliber…” The Fiend closed his eyes. “I’m confident in cultivating my greatest army to date. I will annihilate Realities until the day I can topple the Spiritual Tree; you will serve well in helping me repel the World Laws’ counter force.”

“I see,” Rakna nodded with a smile. “I like that. It’s straightforward. Well then… I don’t think I have much to say anymore, other than…”

He spread his wings wide and his body flickered with the flares of his Voyaging Star skill.

“[Shards of Clarity Abide the Star’s Tyranny.]”

As soon as the words echoed, the invisible pressure of his soul became strong enough to crush the buildings and vegetation on the surface of the Earth.

Tarnished Death’s eyes widened slightly. In a split second, his staff flashed and an armor of bones covered his entire body right before an attack faster than anything he had seen from the werewolf struck his Pasqat from above, with a fanfare of white-silver and purple flames.

The planet rumbled and the ground below the undead monster was flattened, which collapsed the entrance of the endless hole they had emerged from.

Sonata’s lance form oscillated against the Pasqat’s skull but only managed to open a small spider-web crack. Compared to the undead’s size, it was not even worth comparing to a mosquito bite.

“…conceptual resistance to Star Energy,” Rakna muttered right before a circular wave of negative energy blew him away. His wings sparked with dimensional energy and he disappeared from view with a Comet, right as a skeletal tail swatted at where he stood with incongruous speed.

‘Its endurance is around the three or four thousand mark,’ Rakna thought to himself as he inspected the damage he had done. He had increased his speed attribute to 4 000 to charge in and switched that same amount to strength when he attacked. Yet, that was all it did.

‘Not to mention the way my star energy dispersed when it came into contact with it. He did say these things used to hibernate inside stars… no wonder,’ he said to himself. “Let’s see your limit then,” the werewolf uttered out loud and coated himself in Obsidian Star energy.

“[Unity Craft – Ōnāy Muṉivariṉ Kavacam,]” he chanted and his fur rapidly crystallized into black crystals containing purple light, they crackled and twisted his body into the shape of a mech-like armor.

Waves of purple and circuit lights coursed from his head to the tip of his tails as his wings began to thrum with more dimensional power than ever before through turbine-like spirals… or perhaps particle accelerators would constitute a better comparison; exposed and visible to the naked eye.

The feathers had become mechanical in appearance and swirled within delimited circles in a way that made it impossible to tell whether it was fast or slow. Every millisecond, purple particles of soul power were being pulled in and turned into spatial energy.

Compared to the time Rakna had conjured this armor against Arimane, it was stronger due to the upgrade from Grand Reinforcement to Voyaging Star.

This time around, its defensive power was greater and the physical alteration of his body was that much more potent. There was no doubt that within his current skillset, this Craft was ranked near the top.

“[Ought The Blades of Fragility Rend Your Flesh.]”

His warped voice sang the second line of the Cōl Lāli and he teleported on the ground in front of the Pasqat. The undead creature’s eyes flicked downward and black fog began to billow out of its mouth. It roared and bent its legs slightly, immediately jumping in the air with an earthquake.

Rakna looked up with narrowed eyes and to his shock, the Pasqat pressed its wrists together and aimed its palms at him. Conceptual energy of death and mana gathered in its hands and formed a pitch-black sphere with a bright yellow outline.

‘What the hell is that supposed to be? A Ki Blast?’ The werewolf retorted to himself and in the blink of an eye, the circulation of his Internal Art reached its peak. ‘Bring it on then… I’ll break through the limits of this technique just for you.’

“[Treading Rupture, I Follow the Path of The World-Shattering Ghost,]” he chanted and his Stellar Aura promptly stopped fueling his Soul Power and switched fully to Internal Force. The ground he stood on broke apart circularly, several times, each wider than the previous as if ripples were constantly spreading.

“[Heavens’ Rejection,]” suddenly, Tarnished Death’s voice echoed coldly and the air of the planet gained an unfathomable weight. Nothing changed visually, but Rakna deeply felt some restriction being placed on him. None of his abilities were weakened, but something more fundamental was trying to limit his power as a whole.

“Keep your head down, wolfwalker,” the Fiend spoke, his staff releasing a golden light. “Accept your demise alongside this Dream,” he said and tapped his undead with his magical weapon. A flash of light crossed the Pasqat’s eyes and the sphere of death energy expanded by twice its size along with an additional Spell Matrix backing it up.

“Hah…” Rakna snickered and planted his feet on the ground, pushing back against the pressure of the ‘Heavens’ and keeping his head up. “I guess you’re quite the mage as well. Or a cultivator? Are those the traces of Prasminta and Zafas?”

“…”

“Well, not like it matters. You’ll need much more than this to keep me down,” the werewolf uttered as he performed one very reckless alteration of his attributes. His armor began to creak as if under pressure.

Predicting that something odd was happening, Tarnished Death frowned faintly and was about to interrupt whatever he was doing. But right as he attempted to coalesce his power for a spell, the werewolf spoke again.

“Also… I’m not the one you should worry about right now.”

Tarnished Death’s eyes widened and without warning, a horned figure cast a shadow from behind him. With surprising speed, he raised his staff in defense but the twin sabers nonetheless sent him flying off his summoned creature.

Lilith flew after him in the wake of a green lightning bolt. A large arm made of Agni emerged from the center of her Ring, conjuring a giant saber, and swung down at the same time as her.

“[Sanrakšit Talavaar!]” The demoness exclaimed and the blade ripped through the Fiend’s hazy body. And right as it did, the Agni exploded into a miniature green sun, almost abnormally tame in comparison to the power it radiated.

However, it didn’t last long before the sun turned black and melted into a stream of darkness that was quickly swallowed by the white heart inside Tarnished Death’s staff. He resurfaced with his body intact and his eyes rotating in ticks.

“The Agni… is this your battle plan?” He questioned. “Foolish. The wolfwalker’s Innate Order is more powerful than yours. Pasqats are resistant to stars. You are better off exchanging places.”

Lilith smiled as she scraped her swords before taking a stance. “Rakna chose to attack your beast first. If that’s his choice, there’s nothing for me to worry about.”

At the same time, the giant undead let go of the sphere it was holding and swiftly trapped it within its maws in one single bite. A beat later, it roared loud enough to shake the Earth and shot a wave of energy wide enough to eclipse a whole country’s worth of land.

Rakna, infinitely smaller than the visible range of this attack, merely clenched his fist.

His Obsidian Armor was not a defense; it fundamentally turned his body into one. At the moment, his body was basically the physical manifestation of the Obsidian Star’s outer layer. As such, it had a much greater strain ceiling than any mortal physique.

That is why he could abuse the limits of his resilience.

‘Two thousand, three thousand, four thousand, five thousand, six thousand…’ Rakna slowly counted and his attributes started becoming askew. ‘Seven, eight, nine, ten thousand.’

❮ ◈ ❯

Warning!

The Host’s Strength Attribute has exceeded the encoding bounds!

The Host’s Level is insufficient to handle the conceptualization!

The Host’s Endurance is too low!

Permanent damage might be sustained!

❮ ◈ ❯

‘I knew it… My Life Force is also a limit,’ Rakna thought as the world slowed down around him, his Eye of Symphony accelerating his thoughts more than ever. His spirit and soul were starting to ache from the overload. ‘Attributes are not just physical. They are conceptualized power inside an implicit container; it relates to one’s Existentiality…’

“[In a Dark Firmament, The Star Prowls the Light,]” he continued to ‘sing’ the verses while he was reflecting; he had long relegated this task to his unconscious.

Existentiality. It was a term he had heard a few times, and one Arimane himself employed. It refers not to one’s power, but the way one’s very presence can affect the World. Physical strength cannot be evaluated properly for those who wield their own Existentiality.

Those with a stronger ‘Existence’ are physically stronger. That is all.

’10 000 must be an initial step to that,’ Rakna concluded. ‘Even my Obsidian Blood can’t play around with it without consequence. My body might just ‘stop existing’ altogether.’

The werewolf grinned. ‘But, well, why shouldn’t I try?’ Soul power immediately combusted as lines of gray appeared on his fur. His mind sharpened, and Founding Intuition took over.

‘Twelve applicable moons,’ he thought mechanically as his tails began to refine Lunar Energy. ‘Ten waning; two in third quarter. Not enough. Activating Imperial Crown.’

In the blink of an eye, he internally summoned hundreds of the Soul Remnants residing inside his soul and fused with them. Along with his Moon Shine, his total attributes rose by about 4 000 in the blink of an eye, surpassing the 10 000-count by a little less than five thousand.

“[In Eternal Redemption, The Wolf Sings and Confers.]”

He decreased his Endurance down to 500. Most of the rest, he put it in Speed to position his palm facing the sky, and then rapidly switched it all to Intelligence, bolstering it to nearly 4 000, and by proxy, his Internal Force and Spiritual Intent that were currently cannibalizing his foregone aura.

However, that did not mean he had cast his magic aside. Never. If this Pasqat was truly resistant to stars… Rakna was only eager to test its resistance against the Obsidian Star.

Finally, the Rippling Ghost of Rupture’s flow moved along his Ki meridians. Rakna’s body blurred like a malformed photograph. Yet, his eyes shone and traced lines with bright clarity; this was the authentic manifestation of the ‘Ghost of Rupture’.

“[In Between The End and Beginning…]”

In that instant, everyone with the necessary skills sensed the power that transcended mortality. It made even Bhumi freeze in his fight. Lilith shivered and Tarnished Death’s eyes trembled, as if he had just relived a terrifying memory.

“[Ghost Star of Rupture,]” four words quietly came out of Rakna’s mouth and he pressed his palm up by barely a millimeter. The side-effect of his Internal Art distorting his appearance faded away instantly. And incongruously, the wave of death and mana stopped in the air as if frozen in time.

The sight was haunting; as if the Earth was being stalked by a lingering sea of darkness. But a small shattering sound, of delicate, brittle crystal, rang.

Rakna’s extended arm splintered; the armor and its insides confounded. The cracks spread to the werewolf’s shoulder where they nearly reached his neck before stopping. Then, it simply began to disintegrate.

Then, deafeningly, the same noise resounded everywhere like an explosion. It was in no way subtle or harmonious. It was a detonation that could rip your ear with non-existent shrapnel.

Everyone on the planet heard it, and all of them saw what it did. For a split second, the space that composed the sky broke apart, only leaving the flow of time behind, while the dark wave spat by the Pasqat became a smudge in the landscape.

Without warning, it was split in half and then blasted away into space. And as for the creature that stood behind it, it roared one last time, yet to perceive what had happened.

By the time the sound of its cry reached the habitants of the Earth, its body had already turned to dust in silence; its attack scattered by Rupture and erased by Obsidian Energy; its defenses pierced by one single palm that evaded space itself; and its frame wrought by Ripples that filled every gap with the untainted force of the Obsidian Star, transmuting it all into nothingness.

The legendary and fabled creature of the Lost Era was reduced to substance less than atoms before it could declare more than just a few assaults.

Tarnished Death stood silent and aghast while Lilith’s jaw dropped, watching the space above her that still hadn’t recovered from what was essentially a physical strike imbued with an element.

Soma, on another side of the planet, stared at the same place. Like many, he was stunned by the display of power, but also dazed. The principle of the blow he sensed very much resembled what he was facing just now.

Bhumi’s undead mind gained a small amount of lucidity, its unfeeling eyes admiring the aftermath like a martial artist recognizing a peer.

Meanwhile, Rakna, the cause of it all, breathed out a cloud of purple smoke. Even with his arm now missing and seemingly disinclined to regenerate, he nonchalantly continued his lullaby.

“[Sits the Tamed Mayhem of the Philosopher.]”