Zenith Online: Rebirth of the Strongest Player

Kieran had no idea where they were going, and his knowledge of his surroundings wasn't becoming much clearer.

The dense miasma covering the Wild Lands permeated its every region like an infectious and intractable disease.

Come to think of it, the miasma could be conceived as a sickness. It did terrifying things to the creatures bearing the misfortune of roaming these unforgiving lands.

'And yet… I'm roaming them now.'

Kieran sighed.

However, he was also grateful for the Flame's convenience. The longer he ventured amidst this noxious land, the more negligible the deathly miasma became. Granted, that did nothing for the rancid smell of rot that seeped into his nose and the pungent taste lingering on his tongue.

There were often times Kieran felt like hurling from the nauseating stenches but held himself back.

'This must be what an aftermath of war smells like. All that death leads to inevitable rot, which has an atrocious smell.'

Behind Cardinal Weiss, Kieran pinched his nose and increased his pace. As he caught up, he spared the older man a curious glance. The Cardinal of War and Flame was a fierce warrior, but he was usually bare-handed. Kieran wondered why that was.

At times like this, Kieran hated that he couldn't talk. Why had they robbed him of his voice? Was that even necessary? What purpose did being a Voiceless serve? Was it perhaps to quiet the screams of tortured children before they could occur?

Or maybe the lack of a voice gave greater power and meaning to their actions. There was already more power in action than words; however, the lack of one placed supremacy upon the other.

The removal of choice was a sickening burden, but it was not without its benefits sometimes. Sometimes, making a choice was a more terrifying curse, frightening burden, and tearing pain than thought conceivable.

Like having to choose between saving either a person dear to you… or ensuring the survival of a world of people with their death. Or choosing between saving your beloved or saving your child. Those decisions were grave enough to be a torment in and of itself while also adding to an overall dismal situation — loss came either way.

That thought made Kieran think about his parents for the umpteenth time in a short period — relatively, of course. Kieran's experience inside the Testament of Dying Blood thus far could not be understood through typical interpretation.

'Before they died… did they have a choice? Or was their choice stolen too, and that's why they're dead?'

Kieran's expression became burdened with the pain of not knowing. Sometimes, he would forget the face of his parents until he thought long and hard enough. Even that only left shadows on his mind, nothing too concrete.

Ambling through these razed lands, the young Voiceless seemed overcome with wistful desolation. His emotions showed in how he carried himself. His head sagged slightly lower, his shoulders drooped, and most importantly, his eyes looked vacant.

Looming over his shoulder, distortions that tampered with reality in strange, eerie ways occurred. Then, the Flame's mordant voice whispered into his ear.

"What are you sulking about? Ah… have you been divorced too? Divorce is such a tearjerker. I cried for… however long I cried."

Kieran, unable to speak, replied despondently in his mind.

'I'm too young to have been married. No, I wonder about the fate of my parents.'

Kieran was surprisingly honest with the Flame, which wasn't unusual. Still, adopting this kind of sentiment was strange for his honesty.

The Flame lingered and rummaged for appropriate words before replying. But… it was the Flame — not much could be expected.

"Too young? Why must age be of importance? If you want something… you take it by force! There is no fun if there is no forcing involved. It is the breaking that's the best. Yes… Destruction. Sublime and horrifying. Pure bliss."

Kieran stopped, deeply disturbed by the Flame.

'You should really learn a thing or two about consent. Everything you just said? …Not okay.'

The Flame's expression inside Kieran's Realm of Self remained unchanged as it gave a noncommittal… shake? A flicker, perhaps.

"Everything is okay when you make the rules. Defy me? I will just destroy you in the end. It is my right to destroy. Destruction is mine!"

The Flame's tone grew passionate and crazed until it laughed manically at the end. The laughter reverberated in Kieran's head, driving him crazy.

He groaned and shook his head.

'Yeah, okay, buddy. We'll just leave that there. I'm not listening to you anymore.'

Then, he completely silenced his Realm of Self by shifting his attention elsewhere. However, in this dreary environment, it didn't take long for him to tire of walking silently.

Within minutes, he was back talking to the Flame, but it was more of a request than innocuous chatter.

'Flame, do something for me. Only you can do it, so you should feel incredibly unique and matchless.'

Kieran stroked the Flame's ego in just the way it adored. His honeyed words made the nefarious thing as amenable as a saint! It had no qualms with doing what Kieran asked.

And so, shortly after, Cardinal Weiss was turning around and sparing Kieran a glance. Turns out the Voiceless wasn't as voiceless as he presumed. He had some convenient workarounds provided to him.

"You want to know more about me, boy — about why I don't walk into battle wielding a weapon?"

Kieran nodded to the Cardinal of War and Flame's question. It had been his passing thought, but it lingered on his mind and itched until he had to address it.

Now, relief from said itch was being provided.

As he spoke, Cardinal Weiss continued moving in a seemingly desultory manner. He made awkward and likely unexpected steps that veered their course until they began meandering the lands.

"Well, that wasn't always true. I had once carried a myriad of weapons into battle with me — longsword, shortsword, dagger, mace, hammer — the list was endless. Anything that could cause damage… I saw a weapon."

Kieran listened to Cardinal Weiss' story intently. From how he told it, the man sounded like a Weapon Master, a versatile path to take. It was the jack of all trades but master of none equivalent of the Warrior Path.

The Cardinal of War and Flame's expression grew complex — a hint of nostalgia and a smidgen of chagrin.

"That sufficed for a long while… until it didn't. Pristine weaponry is a privilege here in the Land of Ruin, but it is mostly a luxury. And luxuries are not afforded to all. The most surefire way of obtaining said weaponry is through spoils of war — looting your kill, so to speak. Or… plundering it regardless."

Land of Ruin was the Wild Land's second name and nomenclature known to all. It was more likely for a person to know the meaning of Land of Ruin before any other term coined to represent the Wildes.

Intrigued and drawn in, Kieran continued to listen. Wars seemed like the typical convention with how the man offhandedly spoke of them.

"There was a war — the Great Bloodshed, we called it. It was the bloodiest war I had ever seen and it was glorious. And it was there that I fell. I learned then that weapons were not deserving of trust. And so…"

Cardinal Weiss turned around with a sharpness in his gaze that betrayed his confidence in his subsequent words.

"I became my weapon once born anew. These hands are the greatest weapons I know."

Kieran resonated with that sentiment. He aspired to reach a level where a weapon was a choice and not a requirement. He would have liked to know more, but Cardinal Weiss stopped talking and moving.

"We're here."

Kieran gave a perplexed look as he surveyed his surroundings. Miasma was all he caught!

Until the old man drew back a fist with a faint smirk.

"Your eyes are still too young to see. And so… I'll prepare a glorious sight for you. Consider your mind opened and your exploration just about done."