Zenith Online: Rebirth of the Strongest Player

The pain Kieran felt could only be described as exquisite agony. He had never felt a pain so complete and pristine. Its only reason for existence was to show him its peerless ability to inspire despair.

The seconds crawled, the minutes dragged, and he writhed.

The pain was a crippling ordeal, so he remained frozen in place. His chest rose and fell in a broken, tragic rhythm. At times, he thought and believed death was upon him. No, he begged for it. Death seemed more tame and humane than the pain he was enduring.

Minutes had never felt longer in his life. Heat seared his veins, blades pierced his skin, bone, and muscle, and a mountainous influence weighed him down. Breathing became a dreadful task, invoking thoughts of peril.

The silence was pregnant as Agatha inspected the changes her engraving was bringing to bear at an unhurried pace.

"That's a good amount of hurt if I've ever seen it."

She could tell the young man was not breathing correctly or thinking rationally. She couldn't see his expression from this rear position as she needed to focus on engraving his back. However, Agatha earnestly questioned if Kieran was still conscious.

Pained grunts and nearly inaudible shrieks told her he was alive, though.

The taut, sculpted muscles lining Kieran's back rippled like writhing snakes slithering through stalks of grass, and with that change came a crushing pain. He choked, gasped for air with bulging eyes, and sunk his fingers deep into his thighs until blood flowed in an unending stream of red.

Crystalline and magnificent. Not even air could rob it of its luster.

Kieran maimed his legs to keep a feeble grasp of his remaining clarity. For a moment, it felt as if his spine was beaten to dust, and it probably was, given how he slumped forward like his body had lost its support.

That spine was then reforged from the lingering pieces, made more resilient, and tirelessly fortified with the wisps of mystical essence and ancient authority present.

While her words were playful, Agatha winced at the sight of this. Concern shaded her eyes, and doubt began to fester. A doubt Kieran likely wouldn't understand.

It was related to the Imprint itself.

It was a Body Enchantment, one bearing heightened qualities. Compared to normal Body Enchantments, it was a step… perhaps several leaps above.

Any item bearing Significance was to be handled by a Master, an Awakened Being that had begun grasping one of the Three Principles of Self, meaning it belonged on someone with an Awakened Body… not Kieran's Primed Physique.

"I don't know why I went along with this. I know what he is, and I assumed based on that, but this has far too much Significance for his untrained Body. Has he even shed from his Priming and begun to Advance? No… he is a Myth's pending Inheritor. Their path forward is roped up in that ridiculous Trial. Why would they even set it up that way?"

The currently insensate Kieran didn't make for a good conversation partner, lacking the required mental clarity. Thus, Agatha spoke to herself until he could weave his mind together.

In her troubled murmurs, she exposed some information that Kieran had not been privy to or knew vaguely of.

What Kieran and the world knew as the Three Awakenings existed as something to the Lineage of Ancient Wisdom. Fragmented knowledge was known to sift through Xenith and experience misinterpretation from unreliable sources. A link to the Wykins, who possessed consummate records of knowledge, ancient and new, was a true blessing.

Written inside a book was information illustrating the steps, transformations, and hardships of an individual's Ascent. Hekaina had hinted at the name of this journey once before—an Ascendancy.

After an Advancement came the Awakening— a three-step process broken into defined parts.

"Their path upward is so incredibly convoluted by efforts to control what they grow into that it's a colossal burden. What will they have to do for an Awakening? Will these Myths become Oathbound… or will they break that chain?"

The players that accepted these fabled classes had done so because of the attractive power they offered. Only after sinking its fangs of temptation into flesh did power often rear its serpentine head, unveiling the veiled secrets it hid.

Soon, the pain began to subside.

Kieran's blood rushed to the damaged, sore areas of its own accord and started assisting in the recovery process. It helped the reforging process, acting as a coolant, but also contaminated the Imprint and mutated how it would work in the future.

For now, the change was unnoticeable, but once Kieran understood more about himself, about his power—his blood, then that's when he would awaken the new qualities slumbering within.

Kieran's presence grew mysteriously. This was apparent to Agatha because she had already established parts of her Self. She was intimately familiar with Significance. But to others, likely his peers, Kieran would seem inexplicably immense without a single shift in his appearance.

After the shift in presence came the return of Kieran's keen focus. Before he could speak, however, he coughed violently. Each spasm brought up ash-white shards, sharp and rigid. Damage remained inside his body, but if he ignored that, he felt renewed.

Partially. His back did. That felt strong enough to hold up a mountain.

'…Is that bone?'

Kieran stared at the shards of ash-white. Pieces of viscera clung to the jagged edges.

Then, he jerked forward. Something cool had touched his back and alarmed him. Despite returning from the brink of pain-induced mania, his perception of the world had not returned correctly. It was disorderly and chaotic, which is why he failed to sense Agatha take a step close and touch him.

"Still tender to the touch?"

Kieran nodded.

The effects of the Imprint had fortified the bone itself and the thew linking to it, but not the surrounding area. It was tender and aching; thus, Agatha's cool touch sent a wave of pain across his body.

"That's to be expected. The import of what you just did is probably lost upon you, but I can tell you now… you have set something in motion for yourself."

Just as Agatha finished speaking, Kieran heard an ancient, stentorian voice reverberating in his mind. It wasn't unfamiliar… but it was generally reticent and voluntarily mute.

The Compendium's Ego… had chosen to speak to him!

You have come to bear wisps of Significance, and with Significance comes Attraction. The wheel will spin, fate will churn, and heads will turn. Prepare your Mind, Body, and Spirit… for you will be tested.

The words were emboldened in Kieran's mind and impressed on his soul, shaking him at his core.

Curious, he craned his neck and stared at Agatha, many questions brewing in his mind and showing in his eyes.

"I heard what you said earlier. Vaguely… but it was enough to bring to mind some questions. What did you mean by Oathbound?"

Kieran had asked himself this question before.

Why did he need a Trial to shed from the Priming and start the stages of Advancement? More than that, he questioned the binds strong enough to curtail beings like the Myths. Once Myths reached their peak, they could command matchless power. They were uncontested beneath Xenith's skies.

That's what Kieran had thought. It's the story their presence told and what he was made to believe. Then… was he wrong?

He paused and then continued.

"What do you know about the Myths that I don't?"

Agatha sighed, contemplated whether or not she should disclose the answers then considered the dire consequences. Unlike the rest, Kieran had been marked as a Harbinger. He possessed a perk rarely anyone could ever boast about.

Harbingers were the culmination of the desire to change. Because of their rarity and profound meaning, the powers that be and remain hidden would not hinder the growth of a Harbinger.

On the contrary, they needed that growth to occur as quickly and efficiently as possible.

In the end, Agatha caved.

"Tell me first, how much has Scar told you about the Myths?"

It was not in abundance, but Scar had clued Kieran into some of the particulars. The other information was well-guarded secrets that only tried Inheritors could learn.

'Then how does Agatha know? …Did she use her stunning beauty to seduce a grand character?'

Kieran shrugged the passing thought off and answered.

"I know that the Myths draw power from inhumane and abnormally strong sources."

Agatha looked like she was mulling over the information and choosing what to clarify.

"Some of them, yes. The stronger, more battle-oriented, and destruction-capable bunch do. But others wield powers culminated by humans. Or, better to say, a nearly perfected form of it. Alone, each Myth wields greater power, but together… together they can bring ruin upon anything. Thus, steps to prevent that outcome have been devised."

Kieran could reason with that perspective. Left unchecked, some people would abuse their power and pervert the meaning of such great authority.

"A Myth's Advancement is not perilously difficult, nor is it much different from the rest. From what I heard, it's an evaluation of your understanding and challenge of morality. But the issue lay in your duty to the past, your subservience to fate… and your oath."

Agatha and Hekaina were the reason Kieran knew of the power of oaths. If she revealed its existence in such a solemn tone and with a grim expression.

"The Oath of the Chained Myths. That is what will bind you. If you don't swear fealty to the Realm or swear and then break it… your Awakening will be bound, and your Ascent severed. The Oath's Significance is alarming, heavy as a radiant star, and nearly absolute. To chain seven Myths together… it has to be."

'Heavy is the head that wears the crown.'

Kieran grimaced.

The Myths were crowned with power. Power wrapped in titanic chains. Significant and heavy enough to sink a soul. Inescapable duty awaited a Myth.