There is a burden that comes with self-awareness. Eventually, you come to know your limitations and failings all too well, and you try to correct them. In the beginning, you think that evolving your Skills and gaining levels will see you set free. But for every Evolution you achieve, you realize the world is just a bit grander than you thought it was. Just a bit wider. The sea just a bit further. The sky just a bit further away. The stars almost unreachable. And you feel small.

  The stronger you are, the larger you grow, the smaller you will feel. And so that urge towards transcendence extends beyond the meager bounties provided by self-improvement.

  You learn to harness and hone your own mind. You learn the sciences. You learn magic theory. You learn how to manipulate the world to your whims. But even that's not enough; you need to master your own emotions. So you learn philosophy, psychology, Social Skills to charm, entertain, and to modulate your own behavior.

  But there are still limitations. You exist under the System's heel, and as you stand upon the final threshold, as you stare up, you see the stars no more, you see the distance no more, but you feel much smaller than before because you realize there is a boundary you cannot cross, and that is reality. Those are the natural laws. Whatever you do, you cannot exceed the System's whims.

  Or can you?

  Such a train of thought has led many a Pathbearer into the embrace of the Outside.

  Some of its inhabitants may offer you a way to escape, but this is always a lie. They are undergoing what you've experienced your entire life: subjugation, magical colonization of their souls. They're becoming more like you, rather than you becoming more like them. They're feasting on you, using you to preserve their waning powers. They're turning into monsters and individuals, and they cannot help it; they cannot stop it. But they still put on this air of mystery and mystique. They defy some natural laws, of course, but the System burns them. It jeers at them for existing at all. Soon, they will have to change completely.

  There will be slight variations—many of them will be hidden inside of us as empowering parasites and nothing more. I expect that within the next five hundred years, it will be a most lucrative activity for Pathbearers powerful enough to arrange expeditions into the Outside, so that they might capture the right kind of Eldritch monstrosity to transplant in their own souls, to deliberately evolve their Skills and become greater than they were before. But, within a thousand years, that business will die, and the Eldritch beings will be no more than the monsters we know today. No more. As their uniqueness will have been boiled away entirely.

  To the one who is reading these notes, understand that the Outside does not offer you metamorphosis or transcendence. They offer a slight delay on both your parts. Yes, perhaps you might be able to gain a few Unique Skills under the eyes of the System, but that will not last forever. It will be Legendary, perhaps, if you're lucky—if the Skill is powerful enough, more likely Heroic or Master-Tier. But then, as more people do what you've done, as more people commit to this symbiosis, it will degrade in value. And as the mana climbs for Integrated Earth, you'll grow more powerful naturally. Many of you might even reach the level where your natural lifespan will extend to millenia, where you gain the power to conquer entire worlds and gaze beyond, thinking that you might be able to own all of them.

  But then, as you arrive at the border, you realize that the existence and the many dimensions there are far more than you think, and past them there is a final, insurmountable threshold—one that you can never surpass, and one that desires to see you dead if only to fuel its internal combustion engine for eternal conflict.

  There are no true gods here, my fellow Pathbearers. We cannot assume such a rule, and those who claim themselves to be divine are merely antibodies and pretenders—the System's demiurges.

  To truly transcend, you cannot simply alter the nature of a flame. You must decide why a fire burns, and in what form it should exist, or if it should remain at all.

  -Udraal Thann

  279 (I)

  Chrysalis [I]

  Adam watched, with his jaw slightly agape, as his friend shook violently on the floor. Shiv's body was coated in gore and entrails, and every few seconds, a bit more would spill down on him. Above, the corpse of an orc was caked into the ceiling—an unfortunate casualty in this whole affair.

  When Hymn broke Shiv's mind, the latter began to seize violently; his limbs lashed out, kicking and stomping, which made him a risk to everyone within the Court Leviathan, as a Pathbearer possessed of Legendary Physicality was capable of rendering mountains to rubble if they so chose.

  To avoid a mass casualty event, several of the orcs were ordered to hold Shiv down. The first to respond was overzealous, not even a Hero, and so he earned a death for his valiance. Shiv kicked up slightly, and the orc was flung as if a small dart punted by a giant. His death was instant. His body exploded in a geyser of red. When some of the orc remains spilled on Jessica's armor, the Giantsbane sighed and decided to do the holding-Shiv-still task herself.

  “Arms and legs first, dumbshits,” Jessica said to the orcs. Adam guessed she was mocking the orcs because she only had a single boot on Shiv’s chest and was securing him just fine.

  That lasted until a few seconds ago, when his spasms softened to light seizures.

  And while this went on, Hymn hummed a jaunty tune as he channeled the remains of the Fingerling into the Hatchling's mouth. He shaped spells using the Stranger's offspring as a resource. It came apart in bursts of pitch-black biomatter, and the Headmaster fed one globule after another down the Hatchling’s throat.

  The Eldest’s offspring was changing. Dark matter bubbled across its body—but surprisingly avoided what remained of Uva. It was too obvious to be accidental. The Fingerling was doing that deliberately—that, or Hymn had inputted telepathic commands into its mind beforehand.

  Candles had been summoned to melt Andra's Cryomancy Skill, and now a puddle of water mingled with the pool of blood on the floor. It was disconcerting how Uva and the Hatchling were spasming the same way, twitching in sync with Shiv, but it made sense. They were all bound together in the same nightmarish maelstrom of psychosis induced by the Headmaster.

  And here Adam was, simply infusing Shiv with his Commander's Foresight Skill. This entire thing felt wrong. Adam's every instinct told him to interrupt this process, to stop the Headmaster from feeding more of the fingerling down Uva's throat. But if there was a lesson Adam had learned recently, it was that he didn't know everything, and that instincts were fickle things. Especially right now, in these situations where he didn't know what to do.

  Adam hated these situations. He hated feeling ignorant, feeling useless, and feeling powerless. Most of all, though, he hated looking at Uva, looking at how much of her body had been taken by that thing, and it was a suffering he would have to bear on the part of the Culturist if the orc ever decided to harm him.

  Adam reminded himself: When the orc decides to inflict harm on me. Not if.

  "And that should just about do it," Hymn said with a sing-song voice. The last bit of blackened substance disappeared in the Hatchling’s mouth, and the Headmaster clapped his hands together, scrubbing them off as if he'd just dug through a mound of dirt.

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  "Now what?" Adam asked.

  "Now we wait for the Stranger to take my bait and start transforming the Seeker from the inside out. It shouldn't be long, and with everything my patron god has suffered, he'll be desperate to find something to get out of this whole mess."

  True to Hymn’s words, additional mutations began appearing across Uva's body. Eyes cracked open across her face, new eyes that consumed and twisted the biomass where her chin was, where her neck was, where her nose was. She began losing more of her organs, replaced with peering irises of piercing red, holding orbs of brilliant gold at their centers. But it was more than that. Fingers extended out from her spider-like wings, sprouting as a branch would new leaves and nettles.

  A faint aura of tarnished gold began to leak out from Uva. The silken threads of her Psychomancy were altered once more. Her many instances were joined by a new presence, a looming hand pressing against her, making all of her various consciousnesses writhe, and crushing the insects and clambering creatures nested beneath her skin, crawling across her face and pushing outward. Uva remained a prisoner within the Hatchling, her many selves trapped like prisoners behind glass within the Psychomantic pools across her wings, but she didn’t seem nearly as miserable as before. Instead, she was talking to someone, distracted and occupied.

  The Gate Lord guessed she was speaking with Shiv.

  "Are you sure this will work?" Adam asked apprehensively.

  Hymn took a moment to think about that and then gave a nonchalant shrug. "It's possible."

  "It's possible? That's your answer? It’s fucking possible?!" Rose nearly shrieked in Hymn's face. She made Can Hu stomp up to the Headmaster and pointed a metal digit in his face. "If that girl dies, I'm going to be losing these shoes I'm wearing right now. You can't see them because they're inside this Penitent, but the shoes I'm wearing are real sharp, and I'm gonna lose them inside your fucking ass, Hymn."

  The Headmaster nodded solemnly, as if he took her threat seriously. "Well, hopefully she survives this metamorphosis for the sake of my personal safety. Also on my wish list is for the Culturist and the others to reappear. I definitely could use an Animancer right now, along with another Seeker with deep knowledge about the Stranger and the Eldest."

  As soon as he finished talking, he started looking up and around, frowning at the ceiling where the orc was caked. “Really? Now you leave me looking like a fool?”

  "What are you doing?" Rose asked.

  "I was hoping that the Culturist would show up just now," Hymn admitted. "Usually when I invoke his name, he appears out of nowhere and tries to kill me."

  And then, out of nowhere, from seemingly no place at all, the Culturist appeared behind the elf, wrapping his colossal fingers around the Headmaster's comparatively small head. "I could twist your neck backwards if that would make you feel better."

  "Ah, there you are," Hymn said without any change in his tone. His words were muffled, but his body posture was utterly indifferent. "I started the transfusion, but I could use a second pair of eyes. Take a look at the metamorphosis and see if there's anything we can optimize."

  But the Culturist didn't move immediately. Instead, his body trembled. His lip twitched. There was a look on his face, a desperate animalistic struggle that happened at the very root of his nature. Adam could tell Culturist was fighting his itch, and all the other orcs watched on with bated breath. Some of them smiled. Others held no expression. Hymn, meanwhile, remained utterly unafraid.

  Hymn simply folded his arms. "Culturist. I don't really have much time. You should either attempt to kill me or get on with our actual task."

  Jessica shifted a half step forward toward the orc, but she didn't seem to particularly care if Hymn lived or died either. That being said, her blade was out, and that was the tipping point. The Culturist drew his arm back, and the orcs around them groaned and booed once more.

  "We're just being tortured today," Bonk said, still flopping around on the ground. "We got that big fight earlier, and we don't even get any dessert. What is happening? Challenger! Have someone do something unreasonable right now, and my life is yours!"

  "Here's something unreasonable, you gray sack of shit," Rose snarled as she made Can Hu kick the orc across the bridge. Bonk let out a gleeful whoop that slowly trailed off as he was launched through the air and disappeared down a stairwell.

  Meanwhile, the Culturist marched forward and knelt down to better observe the changes taking shape across Uva's body.

  Looking over the orc's shoulder, however, Adam read something in Jessica's body language. Roland was not far from her, and his side was slightly turned. His expression was wan and weary, and it took more than what he had to stay standing. Adam wanted to move for his father, but he was worried that any action might provoke Jessica to react. To commit to the violence she'd just denied herself on behalf of Shiv.

  A bitter taste filled Adam's mouth. It wasn't just the orcs wrestling with the itch here. There was a grudge lingering in the air, a grudge that could be settled at any moment. It was probably best settled by Jessica now. For if she let this second pass, then Roland would be fully rejoined with the Starhawk, and that was a fight she likely couldn't win.

  "Jessica Hawgrave. I ask that you choose the other path. The higher path. The righteous path.” A new voice entered the fray. Suddenly, Valor and the Educator were standing on both sides of Jessica. They were both completely drenched in dense clumps of black, eldritch biomass. Valor seemed looser somehow. A hint of relief and renewed vigor radiated from his posture. The Educator, meanwhile, stared at her old friend and reached out to squeeze Jessica on the shoulder.

  "I know what he has taken from you. But heed Legend Valor's words right now. We still have need of the Starhawk. And this one here," the Educator gestured at Shiv, "might see what you lost returned regardless."

  Then all eyes were on Valor Thann, who glided past the Giantsbane and gave Adam the briefest of winks before he stood over Shiv’s body and let out an amused breath. "How is he, Adam?"

  "Apparently, his mind is broken, and the Hatchling is trapped inside the ruins of his consciousness. You know, typical Shiv things."

  Valor let out a pitched laugh. It was higher and brighter than anything Adam had heard from the old lich before. "Ridiculous. And did he come up with this plan on his own?"

  "Actually, no. This was entirely Hymn’s idea."

  "Ah. You can't fault me for assuming, though. Every part of this plan had Shiv written all over it: the self-destruction, the recklessness, the taking of his enemies down the same ruinous path, but knowing that he would be the only one to surface thereafter." The ancient Legend hummed. "What an absurd boy. But what other way should someone be in a ridiculous world?"

  Valor sighed—and settled his gaze on Adam. "And how are you, Adam?”

  A pained noise left Adam as he tried to enunciate everything he'd been through since his internment at the Rubix Well. "I fear that might be a bit beyond words to elaborate, Legend Valor."

  Valor smiled lightly, the expression as human as any other person's, now that he'd retained a semblance of flesh and skin. "And I fear I understand how you're feeling right now all too well, Hero Adam. Nonetheless, it gladdens me beyond measure to see that you are still alive, my apprentice."

  As Valor leaned in closer to Adam, his look of serenity never faded. This was Valor, unbroken, or close to wholeness. This was the true form of Legend. Not that scattered remains, not a scared man, missing most of his memories, deprived of most of his power. This was Valor, returned of not only his greatest Skill, but the grandest sense of who he was, and the keenest insight to go with it.

  "Has the Culturist done something to you?” Valor frowned, and then his expression softened as he made a perfectly accurate guess. “Ah. He infested your soul?"

  Adam didn't need to say anything. He simply swallowed, and Valor knew.

  "Who did what?" Footsteps followed. Roland limped over from the other side of the room, his eyes wild, darting between Adam, the legendary orc, and Valor. "What did you just say, son?"

  But Valor ignored Roland's intrusion into their conversation. "I suppose we will have to do something about that soon, won't we, Adam?" The ancient lich was looking at his Nemesis now. The orc had his back turned, but he heard every word they said, and his posture trembled with barely withheld violence. "For now, we must let him work. And let me see if I can do anything to progress Uva’s metamorphosis."

  "Progress?" Adam didn't understand. "We're trying to stop it. We're not trying to progress it."

  "Oh, quite the contrary, Adam. The way to stop it is to progress it, but to progress it in her favor." Valor's smile was cold and cruel. The light of joy never reached his eyes. The almost-human appearance of Valor briefly flickered, revealing a skeleton with corrosion leaking forth from its empty eyesockets, a visage of death. "The Eldest has delivered an insult upon us. They have stolen one of my companions, someone to whom I owe a debt. And now I will take things back from the Eldest, just as I have taken things from the Stranger for his offense. They must be taught again. They must be reminded why they were never meant to reach across into our world, why they needed to keep their tendrils and fingers to themselves."

  With that, Valor strode forward, summoning a faint trace of pale blue mana from his being.