Zenith Online: Rebirth of the Strongest Player



The burdens of a Myth were titanic and Kieran understood that indisputable truth, however, it didn't seem dire enough to warrant Agatha's grave expression. Sure, being bound against your will or willingly didn't feel exceptionally good, but sometimes it was necessary.

For example, where the choices involved were an evil and a lesser one. Both had loathsome disadvantages and repugnant drawbacks, but one offered a more tolerable outcome.

That was the case concerning the Myths.

Sometimes, choice was a heavy and sinister responsibility. And thus, sometimes, choice had to be removed, creating irrefutable uniformity.

Kieran mulled over the hinted heaviness of a Myth's burden and looked at his hand. His eyes traced the Mark of the Maddened marring his palm, his direct link to Argexes, a source of nefarious and dark power.

'As a precaution, we'll be robbed of our choice. Not entirely, it seems, but in a way that indirectly forces us to follow a stringent path so that we may continue to rise.'

During his quiet contemplation, Kieran shifted his gaze from the Mark of the Maddened back to Agatha. 

"Together we can bring ruin upon anything? Is that spoken from ancient knowledge?"

Agatha smiled bitterly, nodding almost imperceptibly.

"The Myths… were once uncontrollable weapons and shields without constraints. They were too sharp as weapons, cutting themselves, their enemies, and their friends. As shields, their aegis did not stretch beyond themselves — individuals with narrowed fatalistic views. There was no unity or intent to protect, and their minds were vulnerable. Myths were incredibly susceptible to the dark murmurs."

Kieran expected as much. 

It tracked with what he knew about oaths. Why they were employed, what they could accomplish.

The original sources, like Argexes, probably maintained a deep-seated connection with anyone or anything that called upon his power. That same connection left them open and susceptible to the corruption of reason that came with it.

The Myths of the past must have done some truly terrible things — unspeakable misdeeds — to have caused the creation of something like the Oath of the Chained Myths.

Then, Kieran stopped, furrowed his brow, and gave Agatha a strange look.

"How come you only mentioned the Awakening being severed? What of the qualities of power preceding that?"

Agatha silently traced the outline of the Imprint newly engraved upon Kieran's back. Her eyes were strangely distant, carrying an unknown listlessness. The Imprint of Tenacity resembled precisely what one would think — a spine.

The exquisite engraving comprised seven segments of irregularly shaped blocks that directly superimposed the spine's location. The ends of the upper and bottom blocks were curved with tapered edges. Because of its color and shape, it resembled faultless blades of reinforced silver. The tips pierced the base of Kieran's skull and stopped at his coccyx beneath his waist.

Within that Imprint was the answer to Kieran's question.

"The Awakened are those that open themselves and begin attracting Significance. The Awakened, namely Masters like myself, command something that no — as they are called in the Old Book, Adepts — can replicate. They had yet to establish any facet of Self, and if you are not a Master of Self, you're meaningless."

A thought tickled his mind as Kieran listened to Agatha impart and clarify.

Didn't this sound eerily familiar to the power the Arcane One told him to seek, given the flaws of his mind and soul? Or was it just soul?

'I guess both, no? Vengeance is a kindred emotion to both my mind and soul. But is it the soul that influences the mind… or the mind that does so to the soul?'

Questions… they just never stopped. On the journey to power and while seeking knowledge… questions were an inexhaustible resource.

Kieran continued to think.

'Then, was the Arcane One telling me to strive to become an Enlightened Being? Why do we call them Enlightened Beings?'

With so many questions spiraling in his mind, Kieran didn't know where to start. And so, he just listened... because Agatha had much more to say.

"The costs of breaking, abandoning, or rejecting your Oath isn't the removal of your power. As I said, you are only severed from that which everyone desires — more power. Explicitly, Significance. I am unsure how it is done, but I know that Myths stripped forcibly are called the Vain."

This piece of information perplexed Kieran.

"The Vain? Is there a meaning to why that is so?"

"Oh yes. Very much, yes, dimwit. The Vain are vain. You see, I don't think the Oath clings to the Myth. I believe it latches onto the link between Myth and Source. And when it is pulled… it rips at that binding, pulling along whatever conceptual power it is attached to."

Kieran felt inexplicably queasy.

The retelling — hypothesized version or not — targeted something he could not understand. Maintaining a calm exterior was a result of will. Steadfast and even breathing helped him.

Yet he was still disturbed.

Agatha continued, though.

"And when that pulling is said and done, I think the former Myth is left empty. A shell of what he once was in terms of power. I think their knowledge and memory are retained as a punishment. As so that empty, former Myth becomes Vain. I wouldn't be surprised if they ended their misery instead of wallowing in that despair."

No one appreciated a fall from grace or descent from power. A forced one due to incompliance was even worse. Being penalized for your choice felt wrong and would leave anyone bitter and spiteful. 

But… Kieran disagreed with Agatha's last comment.

"Would you say that is enough reason to end your story? I'm sure people have survived far worse."

Agatha shrugged.

She did not disagree but did not voice agreement either. Maybe some people had endured far worse and prevailed, becoming firmer and more stoic. It was possible, but she refrained from giving her opinion.

"Perhaps, except there has yet to be a Vain that rose from the mire they were tossed into. Try and find one if you can. Maybe even that book in your mind can help you. You quite literally… have an encyclopedia in your head. Put it to good use."

This made Kieran grimace. He wished for unbroken access to the Compendium, but the petulant book wouldn't allow it.

"The thing kind of hates me right now."

Kieran assumed it did. If a person denied you at every turn, spurned, and ignored you, wouldn't being disliked be the logical explanation? The Compendium didn't operate based on human logic and emotion, though.

"It hates no one. Knowledge is available to all who prove themselves. You haven't proven yourself significant yet. Acquire more. Maybe you can research my suggestion and look into the Vain after you do."

More information could have been disclosed, but a few moments later, their entire building shook. The powerful tremor felt like an earthquake's advent or the onset of a calamity.

But, it was no calamity.

Crimson claw marks marred the space a few meters to Kieran and Agatha's. It looked to be created by a giant beast, but Kieran and Agatha were intimately familiar with this mode of transportation.

From within, a crimson-haired savage walked out. His indecent regions were covered by tough beast fur, a hide woven into clothing. His robust limbs and scarred midsection were wrapped with cloth dressings that somehow became harder than steel while retaining their flexibility.

Eyes that had seen innumerable amounts of death, lived through treachery, and prevailed against despair looked upon Agatha. Those eyes of burnished gold were like infernal blades.

Scar — Blood Fiend and Myth of Mauling — had appeared.

He smiled a beastly smile and then grabbed Kieran into a violent, tactless hug.

Kieran howled, and his back crunched disturbingly. The crunch wasn't like that of a chip being bitten into but of immense tension being released in several spots simultaneously.

During his hug, though, Scar glared at Agatha. He bore the Sign of a Wolf, and with that came beastly senses. Needless to say, he had heard the information she relayed to Kieran.

"What have you been telling my boy."

Agatha met his daunting gaze with equal dauntlessness.

"Only what he needs to hear — that he should do his best not to become a Vain. That is a sunken mire no person has climbed out of. You should tell the rest. I am no Myth, nor do I desire to be." 

Scar eyed her with sparks of dubious skepticism. Though playful and sometimes explicit, Agatha was known to speak nothing but the truth. 

"Boy, what have you learned?"

"Oath of the Chained Myths, Vain and uh… Three Principles of Self? About sums it up."

Kieran answered wholly and fearlessly. 

"Ah, so things you should be privy to."

Scar's expression started to soften into something regretful, apologetic lines sculpting his battle-hardened face.

"I'm sorry, boy. Your freedom… I have pretty much robbed you of it."

Scar sighed, releasing Kieran from his hug, then sat in a chair and continued.

"The Oath is something I should have told you about the day you resolved to become one of the Maddened. And I didn't tell you the whole story regarding the True Berserker. Remember, whatever challenges you are given during your trial will teach you the truth about our disparate existence. Amongst the Myths… we reign the strongest… but we ruin the worst. I hope you make the right choice in the end. I chose you, kid."

Suddenly, being a True Berserker didn't seem like all it was chalked up to being. Why did it sound… broken?

'Well, if you think about it, I am kind of broken.'

Kieran made light of the situation, but a thought crossed his mind.

Every quest of grave import threatened the removal of his class. Was that not a part of the game system, then?

'Am I supposed to believe an Oath can affect things so tremendously?'