Zenith Online: Rebirth of the Strongest Player

Kieran dreaded a development like this, but not exactly how it transpired.

Due to having a broad understanding of the Flame's temperament, he thought it would likely destroy him in a fit of rage. The idea of the Flame directly controlling his body, or at least influencing the relationship between thought and action, slipped his mind. 

It was a lapse in judgment on his part. 

After all, he had ended up in the Darkness Below with zero recollection of ever traveling here. Aside from him, only one other entity in his mind could mount enough control to make him act unknowingly — the Flame.

'Damn it all! …Release me!'

Kieran snarled in his mind, Will flaring in an attempt to complete his footfall. Yet, it remained suspended in the air, bashing against an ironclad authority he could do precious little against.

What he faced couldn't even be called an impasse. 

Whereas Kieran struggled to surmount the Flame, straining his hollow Spirit to feed into his Will, the Flame's reprisal felt lackadaisical like it need not commit much to hold its Firebearer at bay.

That thought ate away at Kieran, making him feel inconsequential but paradoxically feeding the unique defiance within him. Everything had been for this moment — to defy the Flame and deny it of whatever glory it sought. 

But… he understood he could not go against a God — even a broken and Fallen one — alone. 

In fact, he wasn't meant to. 

Otherwise, the Oath's Chains would have dissipated from his Realm alongside the disappearance of the Anchor. It was gone, yet the chains remained.

Which meant…

'The Anchor isn't really gone.'

It had been a superficial vessel all along. One that shed its old exterior for a new one, like a caterpillar emerging from its chrysalis, a butterfly. Only there was no butterfly.

While the Flame held his body in a vice, its influence did not spill into the Realm, allowing Kieran to access the Call of the Anchor manually. The Anchor had not disappeared. It had simply given him his fateful role. 

As the Anchor, Kieran called upon the only person he could trust — Altair. He accessed the Chain deeper than before, borrowing upon one of his newly learned principles — Unity, he called it — to send a message to Altair, but he accomplished more than that.

Unbeknownst to Kieran, he became a beacon for the Hidden Inheritor to pinpoint. 

Here, the significance of their individual titles was brought to bear. Darkness twisted before Kieran's eyes in this strange place, rent by a force with authority over its agency. Though Kieran could feel a hint of ineptitude in that grasp, his eyes radiated delight, becoming two carmine orbs burning in the gloaming.

Contrary to what Kieran expected to see, no portal occurred. 

Instead, a spindly man without a hint of muscle on their gaunt frame seemed to materialize from darkness itself. With hair the color of hoarfrost, devoid of all color, eyes marred with healed over welts, covered with bandages and topped by black hide fashioned into strips, a vagabond stared in Kieran's direction… if direction could be the correct term.

Whereas Kieran had been Voiceless, Altair seemed to have a far worse fate befall him… if true at all. What Kieran noticed about his comrade and trusted friend was a strange apparition of darkness following him.

Altair's lips curled into a faint smile, looking in Kieran's vicinity.

"Quite a bind you've found yourself in. Literally. There are chains all around you. Just what have you gotten yourself into, man?"

No answer came, not that Altair expected one.

"Oh… so something was taken from you, too. Poetic, they robbed your voice, and I was born deaf and had my eyes stolen."

That explained why he talked strangely, as if tone deaf. Then again, Kieran also found his voice flat, like he was consciously keeping it monotone. Or… perhaps the Trial had just weighed heavy on Altair as it did Kieran.

He didn't know, and it could all be caught up after the troubles of the now were solved.

"What would you have me do? I don't exactly know how to break the chains that bind you. They… they come from you."

Kieran didn't really understand the solution either, but he had a few theories, which turned into an inkling shortly after until seconds after that, becoming a sneaking suspicion.

Mustering another spate of Will, Kieran sent a message to Altair, who returned a subtle nod.

"Got it, bud."

Altair's movement became strange. 

One moment, he stood a few paces from Kieran, and the next… he stepped into the imperceptible darkness, gone from the world. That action shed light upon Zephyr's given title — Lone Traveler of the Night.

At first, Kieran didn't think much of it, but now… he obsessed over it, fixating on the meanings of everything until it dawned upon him.

'The Bearer of the Hidden Chain can enter the Night unharmed… which I presume includes the Screaming Night if they're one and the same.'

In that same vein, the titles of the other Myths held great significance, a lot of which could prove beneficial if they all unite.

The darkness beside Kieran distorted, Altair's gaunt figure reappearing. He grabbed the enveloped Heartsbane from Kieran's baldric, unfastening its covering to reveal a great, double-edged silver blade of unmatched sharpness. It had a pristine form, simplistic aside from its ornate metal cross-guard with crimson sigils flowing there to its edge. 

Altair dropped the uncovered blade in Kieran's palm, staring at it in disbelief. The damn things felt so nonsensically heavy with heft he couldn't explain. His inner being was sinking, and his heart was gripped with a covetous thirst.

The blade hungered for heart's blood!

Altair looked askance.

"Are you sure about this? You want me to… drive this thing into your heart?"

Kieran twitched his head imperceptibly, feeling doubtful of his assumption as well. 

But he needed to exhaust the Flame in some way, and Heartsbane, for some odd reason, gave the impression of needing Significance to heal a wound from it. It was the most promising weapon against the Flame as it could deplete much of its power… which was a severe twist of fate.

It was a blade powerful enough to be the Flame's potential undoing… yet it was forged by its earliest follower — a devout fanatic for the cause. So attuned to the faith… they strove for something worthy of the Flame.

'Worthy enough to smite it! This is hilarious!'

Finding amusement in his stroke of comprehension, Kieran steeled his gaze, and Altair drove Heartsbane into his heart, instantly eviscerating the Fiend's heart.

Like a broken doll, Kieran fell limply to the ground. Heartsbane, met with no resistance, easily slipped out his chest, sigils blazing with carmine radiance. 

It seemed uniquely beautiful in the dark setting. 

But the Flame was hysterical, downright ballistic. In its fury, the sinister phantasm hovered over Kieran and shrieked endlessly.

"My foolish child! What have you done?! What is that weapon? No, no, no, you are ruining everything. You are the perfect vessel, and we shall not suffer from anything less."

Altair watched the Flame's manifestation cautiously, moved some paces away, and stepped into the Night where he could view the situation safely. He could not know if this strange thing could affect reality, and he would not leave that up to chance… not with how it had glared at him viciously.

The Flame could not stomach such an egregious loss. Thus, it took a minor loss now to obtain a major win later.

Thus… it acted begrudgingly but not without bearing hateful thoughts.

"My child must pay. So defiant… but it can be curbed. It simply requires some tasteful motivation. And I… the Father of Resentment, am a chef!"