Zenith Online: Rebirth of the Strongest Player

Chapter 627: Northern Sands



Kieran opened his eyes inside the carriage, immediately noticing the dimming sky when a long-absent shine didn't blind him. The radiant suns had shifted from their former positions, moving from a crystalline blue and milky white vista to an orange and gold hue that created an almost dreamy backdrop as the carried rode away from its setting form.

He took in the sight, silently marveling before looking at the others who seemed less occupied than he had.

Calling his approach ruthless and damn near barbaric wasn't wrong. He needed to understand

his soft and hard limits, what he could and couldn't endure, to determine where to push himself most.

However, he also wanted to challenge what many - even himself - perceived as the impossible. Could they shatter what was said to be the ceiling of their mortality, not so that immortality could be achieved but so that a new realm could be obtained?

That question repeated in Kieran's mind, making him wonder what tool was needed to push oneself to that extreme? Emotion? Resolution? Or was it something else entirely?

Then, Kieran thought about the methods employed by the Ancients and perhaps Paragons, as it was said. They could manipulate reality in a way that shadowed their desires. It was as if the world molded to their liking for the faintest moments before rebounding.

Their influence was neither permanent nor omnipotent.

However, their willpower was indescribably monstrous. It lit a flame of wanting inside Kieran, a kernel of conviction. He was starting to desire more power than even the old monsters, Agrianos, Hekaina, and more, who remained unnamed, could muster.

Why?

'Even the ones whose strength I can't fathom aren't strong enough to make a Boundary's laws submit to them. Yet... the Watcher in the sky oversees and fears its future? What is coming?'

Asking himself this question made Kieran realize his concerns went far beyond the mundane, like becoming a Myth was gradually opening his mind to the dangers that dwell outside of perceptivity.

The unseen threats, as the Old Myths had grimly warned.

With a sigh, Kieran shook his head. It was impossible to shake the uncertainty he was feeling. What the hell was the unattended duty that Scar and the others mentioned. More importantly... how strong had they been when it was first performed?

Fully matured Adepts? Masters?

Pulling away from his current thoughts, Kieran focused on his recent training, studying how it felt different from when he was a Novice. The most apparent change was the sensation of his blood itself.

Before, he had to imbue emotion into his ability to enhance it from its baseline. That was no longer the case. A dormant obsession was hidden inside his blood, ready to burst free from every vessel and fill him with whatever power he needed.

But it was not perfect.

The body was enhanced, but the mind was eroded. He was in a precarious situation. Madness was like an insidious poison that inched forward with deceptive meticulousness. What it touched may never be returned to its former, untainted state. And that was a scary thought.

Yet, Kieran wasn't scared of the power.

Worse, he was obsessed with it... with dominating it and subduing it.

As an Adept, Kieran sought to understand the unspoken value of emotion - of obsession, really. Why was it so precious to a Fiend, and how did it gift them terrible strength? Was it an untapped well of might that many didn't delve into?

All these questions fueled his current lunacy - his attempts to damage his veins to a point where they were almost inoperable and would leave him disabled, but not entirely. Reaching that condition took a unique pain tolerance because, as he learned, damage done to the inside was amongst the most excruciating pain.

If there was something that hurt more, though, Kieran would have to nominate bone manipulation. It pierced deeper and was a raw, visceral pain. Breaking a bone was simple, and he could tolerate that, but enduring every part of its composition being manipulated and simultaneously tempered with an unknown, bizarre flame was a different story.

Suddenly, Kieran was thinking of his spine and how the Imprint of Tenacity had done just that.

He didn't mull over that experience for long, though. He took note of the darkening sky, now painted in hues of red and orange, gradually shifting to a night sky with many radiant stars looming overhead.

With that change, he noticed the carriage slowing to a crawl, which prompted him to climb toward the opening near the front.

"What's the matter?" Kieran asked.

"The horses are tired. They require rest," Alice answered. Without turning back, she looked past a few rolling hills in the distance. "We'll need to find somewhere we can stop and rest."

Kieran grunted.

Then, he walked to the edge of the carriage and dropped into the rocky terrain before bounding ahead, crossing tens of meters with each propelling footfall.

Soon, he came to a skidding halt and stood still, panning his head from left to right.

All around him was a fractured terrain comprising rolling hills of dry, weathered rocks. Large structures in the distance suggested the ancient ruins of a fallen civilization. It reminded Kieran of the Desertborn Brigade.

Where did Dusvim and his ancestors initially inhabit?

Continuing to turn and take in the landscape, Kieran tallied a few places that could serve as shelter for the night. It wouldn't be his first time bunkering down in a desert. Though, the heat of this place was much more terrifying than he remembered.

'Not unbearable, though. We've been through this before.'

All of a sudden, the shadow behind Kieran moved, momentarily becoming liquid, followed byNôv(el)B\\jnn

a deathly, invasive chill. Without having to turn around, Kieran called out.

"What an entrance."

"It's a convenient ability," Altair said. "Especially in places where light can be stolen. Didn't I tell you? Supposedly, all shadows are connected, and maybe there is a deeper meaning to

that."

Kieran glanced in Altair's direction, not giving much of a reaction before listening to his rival-turned-best friend.

"The end goal is to enter a catacomb, right?"

Kieran nodded to the question, and Altair continued.

"And the catacomb is removed from society, isn't it? Like, not many people would visit it?"

"Yeah," Kieran answered succinctly.

"Then, are we perhaps looking for things that resemble those?"

In the distance, Altair pointed at broken, weathered structures that resembled castles built from hardened sand or grainy rocks. It was impossible to glean how old those structures were, but Kieran gave a sidelong glance nonetheless.

"You want to enter abandoned, dilapidated castles?"

Altair shrugged. "Won't we be doing that anyway? Why not get a head-start on the action?" Kieran hummed, considering the thought as the rumbles of the carriages approached from behind at a slowing pace. Eventually, he couldn't find a reason not to take Altair up on his

suggestion.

"Catacombs are usually located under castle-like structures, no? So, might as well get some practice in. Beware though, places like these are usually booby-trapped or guarded by -" Kieran tilted his head, eventually shrugging." -Whatever it would be guarded by." Comparing the map to the lay of the land before him, Kieran learned they were standing not too far from the heart of the Northern Desert, also called the Desert of Treacherous Sands by some. It differed greatly from the outskirts, though, where there was a seemingly bottomless canyon with deep ridges.

It bisected the Xesian and Bradal Empires, cutting a clean line through torrid northern sands

separating both sides.

'Northern Sands... why does that sound familiar?'