The Newt and Demon-8.74 - Solid PIes

The amount of unused realms in the sector was insane. Theo’s senses, mighty as they might be, couldn’t grasp the amount of worlds resting just under the surface of the void. He stood in his bubble with Tresk, Omen, and Fate, observing those many worlds with his mouth wide open. The power of the two gods, apparently the only two that could break the confines of the heavens without a mountain of paperwork, had given their power to reveal the endless sprawl of realms.

The energy was intoxicating, making the alchemist’s head swim.

“This is an exceptionally bad plan,” Omen said. It was only the tenth time he objected to the plan.

“Oh, don’t be so glum,” Fate said, punching her brother in the arm. “I’ve read the threads. This is a good outcome.”

Omen folded his arms, and Theo felt for him at that moment. The boy could only see disaster. Unlike his sister, the ‘threads’ he saw were nothing more than the end-result of some horrific event. It seemed that over the years, he developed faith in Fate’s ability to sniff out the bad threads from the good ones. Together, their divine powers were equally confusing and impressive.

“So how do we do this?” Tresk asked. She seemed to be the least likely to embark on a realm-destroying mission.

“First we need to sort through the worlds,” Fate said, cupping her chin in her hand and humming. “Some might still be useful.”

“And some might be super dangerous,” Theo said. “Like the time world.”

“Exactly.” Fate pointed to a few dots in the distance. “We don’t want to touch those.”

With Fate’s first steps declared, the group got to work. It wasn’t enough for her to point out the realms. She wanted to visit them one by one before declaring that it was safe to destroy them. In that regard, Omen was incredibly helpful. His sense of danger was absolute, meaning that if somebody were to even propose destroying the planet, he would get visions of the things that would happen afterward. At first, Theo felt awkward working with the gods, but as more time went on, he realized that these two were likely his favorite, even when compared to Hallow.

It was devilishly hard to tell how much time had passed since they started the efforts, but with several hundred realms marked, the group began the next phase of the process. It wasn’t anything Theo was unfamiliar with, but the specific application of these void-based energies felt alien. They all had to wrap their collective will and intent around the world and then compress it down until it became nothing. Their first attempts were sluggish at best, but eventually, everybody got a handle on the concept of working together, and the first realm drifting in the void was destroyed.

Yet it left something behind.

Hovering in the darkness of the void, a black marble caught the light of the fake sun. Theo approached it, reaching his hand through the bubble and grasping it. He turned his head back to Fate to confirm what he was doing was all above board, and she nodded and then laughed.

“I will not punish you for taking advantage of your hard work,” she said. “The threads of fate are clear. I know exactly what you’re going to do with that thing.”

“Would you mind giving me some spoilers?” Theo asked with a smile.

“Think of it as ultra-condensed energy. This might be useful if you had a way of processing it into energy that would be useful to you, but you don’t.”

Except, Theo could think of a few good uses for an absurd amount of energy. Khahar’s problem with his realm was one of those things, and there might have been a plan forming in his head to take advantage of the hundred-odd worlds they would compress today. Khahar might’ve been sneaky with his plans, but he was still part of the sector’s grander plan. Right now, more than anything, they needed another Throne Holder to keep the sector together.

Fate pulled at a thread in the air. It went tight, and the origin was revealed to be Theo’s chest. “See? He’s already got it. Anyway, back to work.”

Of course, the only thing Theo could think of after that point was exactly how he was going to pull the plan off. That was fine since the work they were doing was monotonous at best. They collapsed entire realms, turning all the condensed energy that had been collected over years into a marble. The alchemists would then pocket them, as each refused to enter his inventory. The work was exhausting, leading to both Theo and Tresk flagging about halfway through the endeavor. But Fate and Omen never slowed down for even a moment. They worked as though their life depended on it, which the alchemist realized might have actually been the case.

When Theo and Tresk could no longer go on, Fate called it a day. Although she claimed to be impressed with their stamina, the alchemists suspected she was disappointed they didn’t get the job done in one day. But even the power of the two gods wasn’t enough to collapse the realms. There had to be a combination of energies between throne holders and gods to make it happen. And yet, the invitation at the end of the ordeal was extremely welcome.

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“Perhaps the two of you can come back to our realm. We don’t have anything fancy, but the scenery is very pleasant and... I’ve been working on a pie recipe.” Fate looked almost giddy to share her baking, and Theo would only be lying to himself if he declined the invitation.

“I like pie,” Tresk said.

“She finally got it so it doesn’t slosh as much,” Omen said with a chuckle.

The group took their leave from the void. Of course, Fate and Omen simply vanished from the spot, forcing Theo and Tresk to make their way to the system’s center. The alchemist was certain they could break into the heavens, but with the system feeling more like herself by the day, he figured she would grant them some leeway, and he was right.

“Well, the seal is entirely shattered right now,” the system said, her voice carrying a tone of optimism rather than ravenous insanity. “I would have poked a hole in it for you, though. Since you’re destroying the disused realms, I have even more energy.”

“Great to hear!” Tresk said, pumping her fist in the air. “Does that mean we have more time?”

“If you need it,” the system said, inclining her head toward the marshling.

It was a good-news kind of day. Theo shared a few more thoughts with the system before making his way to the far side of the platform. He then entered the void and found it incredibly easy to locate the realm of the twins. When he entered, they did so in a mossy forest. It was a redwood forest that stretched in every direction. Only the calling voice of Fate far in the distance gave him any bearing to his location.

“I can see why people would have trouble attacking this place,” Theo said. “I don’t see any landmarks or anything interesting. And when I extend my senses, I can barely feel anything. They’ve done a great job in shielding this world.”

“Best of all: I smell pie!” Tresk shouted, running off ahead.

Theo jogged behind her as the scent of the pie grew stronger with each stride. They eventually came to a clearing where two thrones sat on a plain stone platform. The clearing was extremely simple, featuring only a wood-burning oven, a table, and a few chairs scattered around. The moss here was well-packed, with the clearing above giving a view of the sky. Wood smoke and the scent of pie lingered in the air.

Both Fate and Omen looked a bit too excited.

“Just about done,” Fate said, withdrawing a steaming pie from the oven with what looked like handmade oven mitts. “Well, we have to let it cool.”

“So, you guys really live in the forest?” Tresk asked, looking around. “Where do you sleep?”

“We don’t,” Omen said with a shrug. “We’re gods.”

“Oh. Right. You’re too chill. Forgot about the whole god thing,” Tresk said. “Anyway, you guys let your pie cool? I like it when it burns my throat.”

***

Chimeras and years. Counting both had become the only thing he could think of. A loss of identity was to be expected, but the cloud that flooded through his mind was an absolute thing. Perhaps it was borne of some need to shield himself from the endless world, or to pad the unpalatable passage of time with something more familiar. The only thing that drew him from that long battle haze was the light that lingered on the horizon. It shone like a beacon, flashing out as though it shone only for him.

Fenian shook his head, swallowing hard as he looked down at himself. He was beyond bedraggled, his finely made outfit worn down until it was only rags. Caked from head to toe in muck and blood, he finally snapped out of it. But he had been counting all along, keeping the tally not in his head but on the handle of his sword. The hash marks wrapped around in the thousands, presenting a confusing tapestry. To center himself, he counted them.

“At least a thousand years,” Fenian said, clearing his throat and rolling his shoulders as he disrobed. He produced a fresh outfit from his inventory, including a new hat, before getting dressed. “Not quite the entrance I intended to make, but this will have to do.”

The gains he had made during his journey were downright frightening. Fenian didn’t want to consider what it meant to be above Level 100. If this were the old world, he wondered if he would’ve been tempted to create his own realm and ascend. But to push beyond that, almost hitting Level 500 in a relatively short time revealed how much fighting he had done.

That wasn’t even to talk about the celestial energy he had gathered.

Fenian held his sword in his hand, feeling the unfamiliar strength of too many levels and too much energy sting his muscles. He gave it a test swing and watched as the force of the swing itself shattered the landscape before him. The blade, once a tool of an elven god, now sang with the energy of something greater.

“Well, that’s an improvement,” Fenian said.

Coiling on the spot, the elf shot forward over the desolation of Kuzan’s hell, barreling toward the light. If he had his senses about him during his haze, he would’ve made much better time. But the gains were worth it. Maybe.

Fenian landed at the base of a familiar tower. He shook his head, unable to deny how on-the-nose the construction was. The bone-white marble created a perfect tower nestled within unforgiving territory. The light hadn’t even been spilling from the top, but rather within the first floor. Like the towers the Shards occupied, this one held a powerful light that flooded out and urged people to come forward. Unlike the Shards, this light was meant for only one person.

Reluctant as he was to see if the plan had worked, Fenian took his first step into the tower. The light washed over him, some of that scent he remembered from the old days flooding his nostrils. It had been a longshot. The way Leon operated Death’s Gate was one of absorption. He sucked in all the souls, regardless of who they were or where they came from. When Death’s Gate malfunctioned, spitting some souls into the void to languish, he had feared the worst.

But the Lady’s grace was absolute.

“Tinesa,” Fenian said, reaching out to touch the light. His fingers graced the edge of her soul, filling him with a wave of complete comfort. “Took me a while. But I’m here, as promised.”

The plan was imperfect. Fenian hadn’t found the other souls he was looking for. They were simply too deep. Since he had to solve the problem of breaking a soul out of Death’s Gate, there might’ve still been time to find those other souls.

Fenian stretched out, withdrawing the idol from his inventory. “I was never a fan of necromancy.”