Zenith Online: Rebirth of the Strongest Player-Novel



Kieran had become accustomed to being the person everyone else relied on, which kept him with the narrow mindset that he must be the reason things happened. 

But that wasn't true. 

He needn't be the only one to shoulder the load. A score of competent people surrounded him, and in this Trial, the Cardinal of War and Flame was his superior.

Though the Cardinal was not someone Kieran would confide in or openly trust because of the Flame's influence, he had proven himself a model comrade and… passable mentor. A tad too heavy-handed and barbaric for Kieran's fastidious liking, but that, too, accomplished phenomenal results.

He had once been called the Berserk King, but somewhere along the way, he lost touch with his savage roots.

'No, I didn't lose touch. My roots were inadequate compared to what my Class demanded of me. I was brutal to myself in the beginning… but nothing compared to Weiss. Before stepping foot in the Pit of Culling, I would have never pried myself off my opponents' spears and swords or received their fatal strikes to unleash one of my own… not if my life was at risk.'

Kieran was a risk-taker and thrill-seeker, but he had a limit. And this current situation scratched his limit. He had decided to do what he could without putting himself in utter peril and let the rest fall upon the absurdly sturdy shoulders of Cardinal Weiss.

After all, the Cardinal had never told Kieran to fight to his death. His only command was to ready his blade. 

'I need only be a blade.'

With that, Kieran expelled any thought of dealing with the Abominations with nearly complete Blood Cores. He reckoned that even a full-powered attack charged up after seconds of channeling would not be enough. Unlike Cardinal Weiss, Kieran was not a consummate Fiend. He was newly born, but because of the Furthered Scales of Balance… he was also a Halfling.

Half Fiend, half man. 

As the less harrowing of the Bloodwights approached, Kieran's ferocious blade flickered through the air horizontally. The viscous outer layer of his sharp crimson sword expelled blood to assist in his cut. 

Another Blood Core was severed beautifully before it could engage in its next shift, and another Bloodwight dissolved in a pool of formless, putrescent flesh that a stronger Bloodwight then assimilated.

Kieran's assiduous sword strokes continued unbroken. The more he moved his blade, the greater a wild ferocity stirred from his action. But within that ferocity was purpose and intent. Kieran wasn't just striking to repel all that approached.This chapter is updated by ɴovel(F)ɪre

Each stroke claimed a ghastly life. It was a killing sword. Far more lethal than Frenzy should have ever been. But the sword was his finest attainment. In this life and his last… the sword has always been his chosen weapon. 

More than that, Kieran realized the practicality of engaging his True Unveiling Eyes during combat. The possible angle of approach, how long it'd take for his enemy to reach, where his blade needed to be to seamlessly claim a life with a path of least resistance — all of these factors were becoming strikingly clear.

However, this ability came at a cost.

Despite limiting himself to one ocular ability, the more Kieran slayed and the deeper he focused, the faster that red-hot burn became a white-hot sear. And it threatened to set his reason aflame.

With time, his swordsmanship grew sloppy, dulled by the fading of his sight. The locations of the Blood Cores were becoming fuzzy glimpses that swam in and out of his purview with each blink.

Eventually, he could no longer maintain the True Unveiling Eyes, forcing him to lose touch with that critical scrutiny. But the consequence of his actions didn't stop there. The first to go was his peripheral vision, which was a tragic loss. Then, his range of visibility continued to shrink rapidly. 

His reddened eyes swam to find focus, but it was futile. His vision was hazy, obfuscated by the toll his abilities took on his eyes.

Though visually impaired, Kieran narrowly dodged the savage chomp of a nearby Bloodwight. That happened several times until the teeth of one of the stronger Bloodwights nicked his injured arm.

Kieran hissed, one of the only crisp noises he could make. His sharp inhale caught Cardinal Weiss' attention.

"Sit the rest of this out, Valdu. You have done your part well."

Contrary to his usual approach, the Cardinal of War and Flame treated Kieran gently. He punched a hole through the ring of Bloodwight using the strike that embodied the principles of Wrath Eruption and then pushed an open palm against Kieran's chest.

He was sent tumbling back to the Tattered Bridge, where he almost fell but recovered by clutching the thick rope for dear life. His vision remained blurred, but he caught an incredulous glimpse of a towering figure.

Somehow, Cardinal Weiss looked much grander, like an austere general standing before a grim battlefield with his trusted weapon of choice ready to fight a dreadful battle. Then, Kieran realized the Cardinal's body was enveloped in a spellbinding crimson armor.

He struck with a rigid vengeance, wasting no energy on needless action. The Cardinal of War and Flame fought the Bloodwights with simple, severe, and brutal attacks. Their Blood Cores were obliterated, but not just that. A sweltering crimson fire cremated the mounds of hideous gray flesh.

Like an immovable mountain, Cardinal Weiss remained rooted where he stood, unmoving against the endless inundations of Abominations. His clawed hands tore through their flesh and mangled their Blood Cores, but he also adopted a soft approach at times.

When the Bloodwights surged with baffling momentum, he used it against them, casting them somewhere far off into the Screaming Night with a mighty fling.

He was one man against many, but he used the powers of a Fiend well, including the sudden use of blood chains that erupted from the mountain's surface, restrained the Bloodwights, and tossed them aside with the nimble dexterity of an actual limb.

Kieran wanted to appreciate the majesty of this fierce scene, but it was all a lamentable blur. Still, he internalized what bits he could perceive and let the memory rest in his Realm to be studied, dissected, and used as an example to refine his swordsmanship.

'I use a wild style, but it could always be wilder. It lacks that intrepid, foolhardy disregard for life that I've learned in this Trial. Sometimes… you have to be heedless to danger.'

Before he knew it, Cardinal Flame was the only figure that remained atop the Wailing Sierra's second mountain. He loomed over Kieran and extended a hand.

"The wave of Bloodwights has been dealt with. We have a choice, though. We can either advance, and you can see more of the Land of Ruin. Or, you can return and make greater preparations. Take your pick."

Kieran looked at the Cardinal with clouded eyes before nodding and making his choice. He pointed to his rear, indicating his decision to return.

"Wise choice. The deeper we go, the stronger the Abominations will become until we approach the Vale. That is where the threat of Fallen creatures loom."

The Cardinal's spellbinding blood armor receded into his scars as he praised Kieran's wise decision. Understanding when it was prudent to take a risk or refrain from action was an invaluable skill. 

It was the making of a great leader.

"Let the Great Flame heal you, then we'll move."