Zenith Online: Rebirth of the Strongest Player

Chapter 607: Weak in the Knees



Questioning his Path was only one of the many things Kieran found himself doing recently. And though he asked questions, he could not arrive at an answer for any of them.Nôv(el)B\\jnn

Though his Path was recently acquired and painfully alien to him, Kieran sincerely believed it could only be unraveled through action by experiencing, noting, and comparing how it influenced both small and large aspects of him.

He sat, absentmindedly trailing his fingers against the grain of his chair's armrest and gazing at his writhing companions on the ground. Their throes were becoming less intense, and the twitching happened less frequently.

Soon... they would wake up, and when they did, a subject change was in order. There was so much that Kieran was unaware of and required some briefing on how it came to be.

In the meantime, Kieran closed his eyes, willing for his top to vanish.

The top piece of the Savage Beast Lord Set disappeared, leaving Kieran's marked chest barren. The chiseled lines of his physique seemed simultaneously leaner and frightfully robust as if almost failing to keep the power he could radiate contained.

His muscles weren't his focus; it was the dark strokes of each Imprint and the Mark of the Maddened that turned his body into the fantastical magnum opus of a sculptor and artist with unmatched skill.

Curious, Kieran approached a gold-rimmed full-length cheval glass in the corner of the room. This entire floor had been designed as a private space, meaning it was outfitted with luxuries intended to give the best personal experience.

Kieran extended his arms so that he looked like a prisoner, offering his wrists to be cuffed out of surrender. There, he saw how the dark strokes of the Mark of the Maddened contrasted against his tan, almost tawny skin. Allowing his thought to brush the chains within his Realm produced a crimson glimmer on the surface, but once he inched back, the glow faded.

'Hmm...'

Kieran angled his head in question.

He had always thought his blood spilled as soon as he poured intent inside the brand of condemnation, but that wasn't entirely true. The Mark itself required a certain saturation level before it could morph into the ability Kieran desired at the time.

It was a minor delay, but any delay could be potentially fatal on the battlefield.

'I'm an Adept, but I don't feel particularly skilled at wielding my abilities. I feel as if I've skimmed by...'

Kieran repeated the process, counting the seconds in his mind. He went until the Mark of the Maddened reached full saturation, and he found it required upwards of five seconds to achieve functional standards.

Five seconds seemed like a death sentence.

The Tier Evolution should have hastened the process of everything. At least that much seemed logical in his mind. Yet it was clear that Mark of the Maddened itself did not see much improvement, while the abilities coming from Fiend's Carnage had.

It infuriated Kieran quite a bit, but he didn't let it rile him up.

The Trial had awarded him greater control of his emotions when unprovoked, and he appreciated that change, but it wasn't all he gained from it. The tenets of Truthseeking became clearer in his mind and helped keep him grounded. It was as if the Furthered Scales of Balance continued regulating his mental state despite their absence.

Which reminded him...

'I need to take some time to mount a defense against the pitfalls of my power. I don't know what a backlash would look like, but I can't shake how the Flame makes me feel.'

Altair had joked about the Trial's ending, quipping about how it was an omen of Kieran's destiny. The comment stuck with him, shaping his concerns until he felt a burning need to take every precaution available.

In his eyes, precaution meant deepening his understanding of mysticism, honing his abilities as a Mystic Runemaster, and looking to the Archaic Veracity Compendium for guidance. Aside from having these thoughts, Kieran empowered his eyes, draining and opening the Mystic Gate as he peered into his Mark of the Maddened. It didn't seem like the wisest decision, but his instincts didn't scream of peril, leading him to believe it was within his optical capacity.

Within seconds of staring at his Mark being filled with infernal energy - what Kieran believed everyone referred to as Madness - his eyes watered and burned.

[Take it easy, child. Your eyes are no stronger than they were as a Novice.]

Kieran recoiled at that revelation.

'What do you mean they're no stronger? They certainly feel stronger.'

[They feel stronger because you delude yourself into believing that you are. A fresh Adept is marginally stronger than a Primed Novice. It isn't until you acquire momentum as an Adept that you truly grow into your power.]

Somewhere inside Kieran's mind, he knew this was true, and that's what made him frown before the large mirror.

Roughly seven hundred attributes distributed amongst the General Attributes were a pittance, and while he had acquired a number of modifiers from new sources and separated himself from the mediocre Adepts, a True Relic's Ego likely gauged individual strength on a cosmic scale.

Kieran sighed, his expression sullen and somewhat self-mocking.

The spar against Scar had momentarily swollen his ego, bringing him to forget that although he was a Mythic Adept, as Alfeurza had said, he wasn't satisfied with his current strength. [Don't beat yourself up, child. You were never taught in the Ancient Style. There is much you don't know about that Way of Ascension that everyone walks.]

'And what is this Ancient Style you refer to?'

[Hm, the Ancient Style is thinking of the Way of Ascension as a staircase everyone ascends, but it is not a uniform concept. Although the Way is one, it consists of myriad iterations, small splinters that blossom into a miniature version of itself. Like an actual staircase, it consists of steps. Each step's length, depth, and height are unique, which is why direct molding of someone else is nearly impossible.]

'A staircase? Then is each Tier a step?'

An answer didn't come immediately. Kieran was met with a strange grumbling noise from the Compendium, who then decided to answer.

[You could perceive it that way, yes. But a step encompasses more than just a Tier. You'll come to learn the specifics yourself. Also, do not rely upon what you learned in the Trial as a guideline for what must be done. I scoured your memories, and the lack of essence in everything there was horrific. You'll walk a path of self-destruction should you use any of that

as an example.]

'So... use the Trial as an example of what not to do, got it.'

[Smart child. You have almost every tool you'll ever need at your disposal... employ them.]

Kieran chuckled and stopped studying his Mark of the Maddened for now, giving his eyes a

brief respite.

Behind him, a cacophony of pained groans erupted. Everyone was awakening from their drunken nightmare and looked around, bleary-eyed and holding their head.

"Oh, dear gods!" Bastion howled, cradling his head. He wheezed and complained. "That was terrible. I never ever want to do that again."

Alice grimaced, blanched, and then felt a bout of dizzying weakness, falling to her knees.

Nemean's laughter thundered in the room as he pointed at Alice.

"The boss made Alice weak in the knees!"