Listen, the first thing you should do if you end up getting the Foreshadowing Skill is killing yourself. I’m serious. Kill yourself. It–it’s the only way out. The System is a fuck. It wants you to suffer. It wants you to be miserable. It’s gonna break you.

The visions are like a chain of knives scheduled to—to go up your ass. And you gotta deal with them at the last minute. Or… or you get knife-fucked. You ever been knife-fucked, kids? I have. It takes things from you. Precious things. I’m not the same man. [Sobbing] I used to have a full head of hair. It was like a horse’s mane. It was beautiful. Now I’m nothing. Now I drink just to get by—this thing I’m holding got enough alcohol to burn through a goblin’s gut.

Two—two nights, I got a vision. Was trying to sleep off the worst headache but then I get this vision—you ever see an orc fill a woman with water till her stomach pops? I—they know it fucks me up, so they keep doing it! THE FUCKS KEEP DOING IT! I CAN’T TAKE IT! STOP! STOP! CULTURIST! YOU FUCKKKKK! STOP IT! STOPPP!

Then… then right after that, I get to see—my wife. My second vision was my wife. Got put right inside her head. Twenty-three years of marriage, and I’m there with her in the vision, and leaning over her is my brother, and he’s thrusting away, just—just slapping it hard.

[Sobbing intensifies]

I didn’t wanna know. I mean, I already knew, but I didn’t wanna—I know I’m a cuck, System. I know. I’m never at home. I never get to spend any time with people I care about. I drink. I’m a piece of shit. I drink! I drink! I drink because it’s the only peace I can have! I don’t want these visions anymore, I don’t want to!

Kids! One of you kill me! I’m too much of a coward to do it myself. I need one of you to—no, stop! Let me go! These kids need to kill me! KILL MEEEE!

-Legend-Seer Kevin DeWitt of Killenn, Lone Star, to Graduating Cadets from Alamo Academy (A formal apology was issued later by the official Council of Killenn; no response from Legend-Seer Kevin DeWitt)

211 (I)

Campus [II]

An explosion went off inside Shiv’s head. It was like every overdue vision he’d avoided experiencing in the past few months was all slamming into him at the same time. His senses went haywire. He plunged deeper into himself—couldn’t feel his own skin or even Irons trying to hold him up. As he fell, something dragged him across time and space, stuffing him deeper into another body, making him see through another set of eyes—a pair that most definitely didn’t belong to him.

Non-Sequitur: Prophetess Andra Culdottier barely managed to break through the protective spells projected by the Prismatic Guard in time to flee from the Ascendants. Many of her fellow prisoners weren’t so lucky. It was only through a combined effort between her, High Marshal Urri of the Vultegs, the automaton known as Divider, and the unseen assassin calling herself Breeze that they managed this escape.

They butchered enough of the Prismatic Guard to collapse a Poly-Magi formation and weaken the wards. When that happened, Andra struck across the narrative threshold of the System itself, casting her Divination mana out through the ruptured barriers before isolating the Dimensionalists among the Republic’s forces and flinging javelins of ice through their bodies.

When they fell, the Spatial Wards weakened as well, and that allowed Divider to teleport them away from the supervolcano.

But that didn’t mean they were free. The capital itself was engulfed by Harlock’s divine power, and the city was effectively caged under a net that refused to let anyone skip out from within its boundaries. Yet, the hubris of the Ascendants could not be denied. They allowed the Jump Stations across the city to remain active, and so Divider managed to access the capital’s network.

Now, after a chain of well-hidden jumps, they were arriving at what could be a true place of temporary sanctuary. A burst of black static deposited the four fugitives within a hidden anchor. Dust coated the floors and walls, and the door connected to the chamber was sealed shut and rusted. Moreover, there were no spells gliding along the walls, and that told Andra more about this place’s abandonment than anything else.

She wasn’t sure where she was—Divider had hidden them long and well in the Jumpspace network established by the Republic, but the machine was merely a Hero, and its endurance was ultimately feeble. They needed to recover now, to center themselves and plan ahead.

But for the first time in decades, Andra was free, and the cold blizzard of revenge whistled its hate in her heart. She had been severed from her home, trapped in a pit of misery and madness for far too long.

Stiller Than Frost would undoubtedly be ashamed of what had become of one of his Prime Disciples since he’d last spoken to her, and that, more than anything, gnawed at her.

But she was resolute. If the Republic was intent on keeping her bottled in their capital, then she would make them pay for this folly with the blood of its children.

For only through triumphant retribution could she redeem the honor she’d lost from being captured, and if she could weaken the center of the Yellowstone Republic, then perhaps that would make up for her shame when she finally returned to the Court of the Shattered Moon in the Everwastes of Torontus.

And so, as the others rested or raged, she cast her Divination out and—

Warning: Skill Compromised

“…What is this? Who is hiding within my soul? Who dares peek from a Prophetess’s eyes? I can feel you, Akbar.”

And then, Shiv watched as a muscular blue arm flaring with brilliant sigils reached out and shaped a needle-thin javelin between her fingers…

***

“This is not Flamecrown Castle!” Urri raged. The massive Vulteg stomped his feet and hammered his fists against the dirt-coated walls of the anchor. It dented and groaned before his tantrum, but ultimately held. “Jump us again, machine! Again! We go to the heart of the Republic immediately. We slay the weak, mongrel Avatars and spit upon the altars of the Ascendants.”

At the Vulteg’s feet was a pile of scattered components. Divider was utterly used up after jumping the group hundreds of times in rapid succession, and its segmented, snake-like body was in pieces. The length of its spine was disconnected from its triangular head, and both of the bot’s glowing eyes had an “X” dotting their insides. “Can’t… Used up… Only secure place found… Hidden in the network. Not meant to be found…”

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Divider’s words died with a final crackle, and Urri let out a chuff of absolute scorn. “Pitiful!”

A slight breeze glided past the angry Vulteg and folded around Andra’s arm. The Prophetess of the Jotun stared off into the distance as her body glowed with ripples of Divination mana, Legendary in potency. She had earned this power by ripping into the System’s guts, deciphering the offal that was its narrative, and digging through every bit of detail she could glean.

As Prophetess, she’d acquired a favored kind of prey, and that was rival Diviners—or better yet, the unfortunate fools who lacked a true Divination Skill, and were cursed with Foreshadowing instead. As her mana swelled around her, a shadow was cast within her torso. The imprint of another was pressed against her soul, and with how they were flailing, Andra knew they weren’t a proper Skaldweaver.

“Andra?” the winds around her chimed. “What is wrong?”

The Jotun’s scarred face twisted into a vicious, scarred rictus. “A poor fool has peeked under the System’s skirts. They leer at us. They seek to trace us.”

“We’re being tracked?” Breeze cried, sounding aghast. Her terror made Urri freeze just as he was about to slam another fist into the walls, and bade Divider to fuse back together.

The automaton groaned and crackled. “Does that mean we have to move again? Because I don’t think I have the juice for that.”

“No,” Andra proclaimed as she drew her javelin back. “It is their misfortune that their eyes have found us. Fate has led them to witness our presence, and fate has damned them to a fine death at my hands.”

As the Jotun spoke, she reached deeper inward with her power and tied herself to the one imprinted upon her soul. Violet mana crashed against her adversary—only to rebound as if waves striking the prow of a surging ship.

***

Shiv flinched as a stinging pain cracked across his body. It was like smashing chest-first through a wall of stone.

***

Andra flinched as her magic recoiled. “Legendary-Tier Resistance,” she hissed under her breath. “Who are you?” She held herself back from throwing her spear just yet and traced a sequence of spell-shapes in the air with her left hand. “Reveal yourself to me.” The shapes ignited with power, and they branded themselves upon the fabric of her inner soul, wrapping themselves tight around the intruder leeching off of her narrative.

Prophetess of Fated Damnation: The Undying Thing struggles inside you, confused and lost. He tries to break free, but he does not understand how to wield the power of stories, and lacks the proper limb to wrench himself free.

His name is [Unknowable], and his Path is [Unknowable]; you can seek his skills, but they are [Unknowable]. He stands below you, walking across the campus grounds. You now know of his presence, just as he knows of yours. You are both located within the confines of [Phoenix Academy], and the anchor you reside in is the [Miriam Hall Emergency Reserve Anchor], meant specifically for the faculty. He, like you, is blooded by death and war, and those around him remain blissfully ignorant of the monster striding among them.

He wears the face of another. Upon his Mask of Stolen Paths, a flayed soul is draped, and he uses the likeness and skills of one Marcus Unblood as his facade.

And the shadow within Andra filled with colors and detail. A face appeared. A body followed. A weak, sickly-looking boy wearing priestly robes stood as a meager sight within the vastness of the Jotun’s body. But this wasn’t the true flesh of her foe—merely the shell. And that bothered Andra. Hers was Legendary power, so why was the System yet denying her details? How could someone’s true name and Path be unknowable to her? She wouldn’t accept it.

A flood of violet mana tore inward, drilling against her foe. Once more, her magic rebounded. It was like she was trying to pierce through a mountain of iron using stone tools.

“Rot and Ruin!” Andra cursed. “What manner of being—”

Warning: Flee now, Daughter of the Crone. Flee, or bare your soul and greet the Deathless.

“Deathless?” Andra blinked. A chill washed through her veins.

“Deathless?!” Urri bellowed.

Hidden World Quest Activated: Slay Tanner “Shiv” Lowe, the Deathless, before he fully comes into his power and forcefully drives your world beyond its current Mana Stability Threshold.

Success: Integrated Earth will experience its next Ambient Mana Threshold Evolution. The [Mythical] Skill-Tier will become available to all Pathbearers within this Ambient Mana Zone; Evolve 10 Skills to Legendary-Tier.

Failure: A specialized Incursion will be triggered to destroy Integrated Earth in 9 years, 2 months, and 0 days.

Prophetess of Fated Damnation 502 > 503

A chain of notifications struck Andra. She let out a gasp of pleasure as long-dormant power roared to life and flooded into her. Another Legendary level had been earned. After a near-century of effort—her mind snapped back to focus.

“Deathless,” she rasped. She read the details of the Hidden World Quest and clenched her javelin tight. “Ah. I see. Urri. You know of him.”

The Vulteg let out a bark of fury. “That traitorous shit! He stood against me when I tried to honor Lord Scorn! He is the one who seeks us!” The Vulteg drew in a breath. “Strike him down, giantess. Split his heart and mutilate his bones. He has broken his word against me—he used his tongue to twist my mind and cast me to the Ascendants like a coward. Harlock took my mind! Used me! Strike him down!”

The Vulteg’s mind was addled, and Andra couldn’t make out any real information about the history between Urri and this Deathless aside from the fact that the former bore a great deal of hate for the latter. But then again, there was little that Urri did not hate.

Regardless of this, the rewards offered for the head of this Deathless were beyond salubrious. Andra already had two Legendary Skills—but to possess twelve? Barring Divinities, that might just make her the single most powerful entity on Integrated Earth.

And the Prophetess of the Jotun was nothing if not ambitious.

She reached into her chest with her free hand and tore the shadow of the Deathless free. She cast him upon the walls of the anchor, and drew back her arm…

***

Shiv saw it all—heard it all; felt himself get ripped out from Andra’s soul. He was drifting, then. A shadow splashed against the wall. He could feel himself surfacing, feel the vision break apart as he returned to his body, but across the anchor, he watched as the giantess drew back her arm. Her frozen lance glistened with power, and Shiv’s instincts screamed for him to dodge.

The scream of a blizzard unfurled into the shape of a dragon around the Jotun, and her horns and runic sigils burned bright. Air flowed around her body, and behind, the brutish, tentacled head of Urri poured hate at Shiv as well.

“System, come the fuck on! Let me go! Let me—”

With a staggering display of willpower and the activation of the Non-Sequitur Skill, he broke free of the vision.

Only a shame that he did so a moment too late.

The Jotun’s arm exploded forward. The javelin cracked through the air and slammed into Shiv’s shadow just before he unraveled in a burst of Vitae. Instead of the javelin dashing itself upon the wall, it traveled across the narrative that comprised the world, ripping through the fabric of stories before slamming dead-on against Shiv’s neck—whosnapped back into his own body just as his throat was shredded open.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep