Zenith Online: Rebirth of the Strongest Player

Kieran was faintly disappointed in himself.

It had taken him too long to realize the Testament of the Dying Blood was the telling of the Flame's actions. And that he was the equivalent of an interactive witness.

'It's not my fault though…'

His mind had been roped up in the damage done by the Flame and imprisoned by the titanic Anchor, which made ingenious use of the Condemned Chain.

This was likely a test of his ability to comprehend. As a Myth, he'd need to understand several things far beyond his grasp and do so with inconceivable alacrity.

As he was met with troubling realization, Kieran stared at the Flame with ambivalent emotions. On the one hand, he wanted to see what mayhem the wicked entity intended to unleash. On the other, he felt obligated to his title as a potential New Myth to ensure the Trial ended with the best outcome.

However, that could not be accomplished alone.

'We must endure our Trial alone but complete it together.'

That was a clue Kieran unwittingly overlooked until now. No matter the distance that separated them, whatever grand machination the Flame had in store would eventually lead them to one another.

Perhaps only the seven Myths working as one could resolve the looming ordeal. No… they had to. They were the keepers of hope in this dismal scenario.

'Then, that also means by the end of the Trial… we should each command a power that resembles what we entered with.'

Kieran's expression suddenly soured as that thought hit him, and he let out an aggrieved grumble.

'What are the odds that I'm the only Inheritor unlucky enough to start as a powerless child?'

Should he discover that the other Inheritors were living it up like kings and queens, enjoying the most sumptuous experiences… Kieran would likely go on an unstoppable rampage.

'Happy thoughts. Happy thoughts. We're all suffering together because this Trial is dreadful. The worst, actually.'

Kieran deluded himself to keep his thoughts from traveling to dark places.

It soon became pointless, though.

Once he looked at the Flame, his thoughts returned to dismantling its wicked plot. Another noteworthy thing was Kieran's attempts to find a voice.

Not long ago, he had resolved to fix his voice by any means necessary.

'If we go by what the Flame has been speaking and take it with a grain of salt, then we know it wants to destroy things. Well, what are those things?'

Kieran thought back to the Lifeless Pass, particularly the proud chain of mountains that stood erect in the distance, creating an ominous panorama. According to Cardinal Weiss, those mountains were far northeast and marked the Wild Lands' end in that direction.

There lay the border where Enira and the Wild Lands met.

'The Followers of War had blazed a path down those mountains and through the Lifeless Path. Under normal circumstances, there would have been no need for them to go that far. It must have meant that whatever started here… only traveled in that direction.'

Kieran stared at the Flame with a burning gaze.

'You definitely did something to the way Weiss told that story. I think the Followers of War came to eradicate you… but they could not find you by then. That must be why that strange iron gate blocks all within and without. Where did such a metal come from?'

It was likely a bizarre metal with anti-divination properties. The Flame had thought of every vulnerability and covered them. Its first War with the Gods probably elevated its caution to an obsession.

'There is probably something in those mountains. And it won't be long until I find out… because I think I know what you want.'

Kieran licked his parched lips before cupping the pool of mystic essence and drinking it. Having frequented this place more than ever, Kieran learned convenient things about the mystic pool. It could refresh his spirit like crisp water could refresh his body.

Then, Kieran resumed his ruminations.

'The Flame wants to destroy something that imprisons Destruction, summon it, and then… marry it? No, merge with it. Destruction is likely a piece that is missing. But…'

The chill of his following thoughts made him shudder.

What would happen if Ruin — the Flame — and Destruction — some unknown presence — reunited. What would be the outcome of that?

Death…

Death followed Ruin and Destruction, and what followed those? Blood. Tons and tons of blood. An ocean of it. At least enough to bathe in.

'A ruinous trio...'

Suddenly, everything related to the words Testament of the Dying Blood seemed very clear to Kieran — at least, he thought so. Maybe a few missing pieces remained to be understood, but what he knew now was enough.

Everything thus far had been slight hints.

The bridge he walked upon represented the long road he would travel to solve this Trial. The drowning represented a pivotal point in the Trial's retelling. Once he reached that point, there was no avoiding what was to come.

He would indeed be tested as it deluged him.

The last of the symbolism was the enervation that occurred on the bridge. It was a symbol of the effete mind Kieran would bear. Inside the Testament of Dying Blood, Kieran's soul was the only thing that belonged to him.

The rest were all endemic events of the Trial.

'It was all right there… yet I couldn't understand until now. Would I have ever understood if I didn't take the time to examine and dispute everything?'

An odious voice inside Kieran's mind told him no. And, it surprisingly belonged to him. The Flame seemed to idle independently these days. Or maybe it was preoccupied with something more important than him.

Nevertheless, the threads of understanding were being woven into a unified front. An elaborate tapestry was stitching itself from the fabric of Kieran's thoughts.

He exhaled deeply, expunging a litany of turbid emotions.

After that, Kieran opened his eyes in his room.

Unlike before, his eyes carried a strange profundity poised to discern and unveil whatever information was attempting to be hidden.

A prospect of not having to participate in the Cullings was the rapid accumulation of mystical essence. Enough to influence his body. His abyss-black eyes carried a strange resplendence now, an abstruse sparkle.

Before it happened, Kieran looked at the door and watched it swing open.

The friendly neighborhood Cardinal of War and Flame waltzed with his expression graver than usual.

"The time has come. During your years of absences… the Culling of the Voiceless has forged many formidable fighters."

Kieran listened intently, but his expression remained impassive. When he met Cardinal Weiss' gaze, his deep eyes spoke for him:

"They may be formidable, but they aren't me."

That was the confident message Kieran's gaze delivered.

Cardinal Weiss smiled with eyes full of ardent glee.

"Understood. Today will be one of the most glorious. An Unspoken will be crowned. The Pit awaits you."

Kieran swung his lean legs across the bed, limbs lengthy enough to easily reach the floor. As he stood, he was roughly fifteen centimeters taller than Cardinal, putting him at his most comfortable height.

Cardinal Weiss led the way, and Kieran gave pursuit.