Zenith Online: Rebirth of the Strongest Player

Chapter 628: The Dead May Never Die



Aside from having ventured through the Northern Desert, which was apparently separated by the nature of its sands - Treacherous, Crumbling, and now Northern - Kieran felt the Northern Sands sounded strangely familiar, like he forgot something he shouldn't have.

Or, at least, he didn't pay enough attention to have it branded into his active memory. Still, the sensation was too curious and forced him to delve deeper.

Utilizing the Veracity Attribute - the core of Truthseeking and mysticism in general - which improved his the accuracy and swiftness of his recall and deduction abilities, Kieran compiled all of the information related to the Northern Desert.

'The name Desertborn suggested they were of the desert, right? But we never saw evidence of where they came from.'

And the desert was as vast as it was hellishly hot. The Crumbling Sands were not fit to house any kind of structures, for their integrity was torn asunder by the endless network of giant sand worms beneath the surface. Any establishment constructed there would eventually sink and be devoured by the sands.

At least, no sane civilization would build their home in monster-infested sands.

However...

Kieran grunted, his curious eyes flashing eastward where the Crumblings Sands and the abyssal ridge were located. If a civilization present during ancient times suddenly disappeared, wouldn't the crumbling of formerly stable sands explain the abrupt disappearance?

Of course, Kieran also couldn't discount the remnants of the castles and other fractured, palatial structures in the distance. Then, there was the piece of information he had remembered.

'The Guardian of the Northern Sands!'

Details of the underground hideout invasion combined into a seamless tapestry in Kieran's mind. He remembered killing Vidal, who resented him for killing Deserea, his precious fiancée. Afterward, he rushed to the aid of his teammates, encountering Facina, who, through methods unknown, had become the contractor of an ancient guardian.

Knowing what he did now... that summoning felt like a fraction of its total might. It was likely a limitation brought forward by the lacking contractor it chose. Then again, she had only been a Novice, and all of Novices lacked when compared to superior powers.

Suddenly, Kieran wasn't too sure venturing through the ruins inside the Northern Sands was such a brilliant decision. What if the guardian who drew power from the Ancient Pylon was still alive?

What kind of power could something like that wield?

Yet, despite the conceivable peril of a mortal foe, Kieran's eyes brimmed with a vibrant, cruel bloodlust. Whispers of war brushed against his ear, tickled his mind, and incited him to approach and see if a foe awaited.

'You're right,' Kieran told someone... something unknown. He showed a gruesome grin enhanced by his almost bestial-looking maw. 'I am of the Warwrought.'

With that, Kieran began ignoring the alarm radiating off his instincts. It didn't spell doom, but it spoke of something that could potentially be a challenge.

Nevertheless, having chosen the spot, Kieran gave Altair a sidelong glance.

"You remember the Desertborn Brigands?"

Altair let go a chuckle. "How could I not? Wasn't it one of the many challenges that pushed us together? What of it?"

"I think this place is related to them. I can feel it in my bones," Kieran said.

"That would make sense. I mean, this entire place is just one absurdly large desert. I probably can't even wrap my mind around how large it is," Altair said.

Extending his hand at eye level, Kieran summoned Crimson Ashrune, watching it manifest in wisps of black and crimson smoke the color of ash and drawn blood. Despite knowing that it was becoming less of a fitting weapon, the sharp tool of carnage felt right in his grasp.

With his sword in hand, Kieran empowered his eyes with a faint flow of mystic essence from his Mystic Gate. It was tough to maintain but not impossible, thanks to his practice of energy control with the quill used in scribing.

A mystical sheen appeared over his eyes, and countless minute characters attempted to form within his pupils. It was unsuccessful, but for a second, Kieran felt like he could see the history of the sands before him... understand the truth buried beneath the rubble.

Like when he gazed upon the Ruined Bastion and witnessed flashes of an ancient, destructive battle. Kieran's current strange vision didn't compare in depth, grandeur, and profundity, but it staggered him nonetheless.

It was a sign that his Truthseeking had seen subtle improvements.

Gaining a rough understanding of where they currently were, Kieran cupped his mouth and called out. "Our destination is far ahead of us, but you still need to be wary of our current surroundings. I saw things... and if I'm right, what we see is merely the tip of the iceberg."

The two carriages rolled to their heels, coming to a halt. Alice steaded the horses attached to the carriage.

Alice stared at the many broken structures ahead. "There must be a reason this place remains troubled after all these years. Do you think there haven't been grave robbers or treasure hunters who scoured the land?"

"That's speculation. If we want the answers, we'll just have to enter." Kieran tightened his grasp of Crimson Ashrune and strode ahead, with the others soon following him.

After walking a few mets, Kieran was greeted with a message from the Zenith Frequency. [You have entered a Culling Zone: Ruins of the Northern Sands. Beware, danger abounds. The blood staining the sands has not vanished... but has been absorbed.]

Bastion choked at the message. "Did you guys get the same eerie message? It really sounds like a lot of people have died here. I'm not in the business of dying."

"Dude!" Nemean groaned. "We literally have the Death Penalty. If we die, we'll be fine. Plus, we have Sera. She is like the best healer we know."

Altair turned back and shook his head. "I wouldn't count on the Death Penalty if I were you. It is not as straightforward as anyone should assume. It is... unforgiving. Ever heard of baseball - the batters specifically?"

"Yeah?" A few answered in bewildered unison.

"Well, it's like that. A strike system. Only the repercussion becomes increasingly severe. Trust me on this. I died once accepting my duty,"n/o/vel/b//in dot c//om

Kieran arched his brow. "You died?"

"Had to," Altair admitted. "It is how the Deathless Gloom takes hold of us. It kills what is alive and returns misshapen life. The Night Travelers know no light, but those who enter the Deathless Gloom no longer know death. How can you kill what has already died?"

"Whoa, that's a bit extreme," Sera gasped, covering her mouth while peeking through the

thin drapes behind Alice.

"I agree," Alice nodded.

Altair merely shrugged as an answer. Kieran had no idea what his friend could be thinking at the moment, but the lack of care in his eyes at least showed it didn't bother him deeply.

...Unless it was masked.

Not everything a person felt was shown to the world, and not all could be interpreted.

Still, things had to be done.

Kieran interjected in the shocked gasps and comments of his team. "Can you scout ahead and let us know if any threats need to be taken care of?"

"Consider it done." Altair nodded before leaning forward and falling into the dark shadows as if his body had dissolved, no longer consisting of flesh and bone.

Meanwhile, Kieran began channeling from the Fiend's Carnage to activate his Mark of the Maddened. With that, he could start Bloodletting without delay.

... Even if his decision came with consequences. Like the whispers of carnage, for example.