Zenith Online: Rebirth of the Strongest Player-Novel



Nestled within the callous indifference buried in the depths of Adeia's eyes, a new emotion had appeared, one she thought she couldn't feel again—fear. 

However, this peculiar trepidation didn't quite promise the likelihood of death that she so desperately sought.

This fear was a fear known to every human—the fear of the inexplicable unknown that took far too much effort to unravel the truth and certainty behind it. 

Once she understood the nature of her fear, the emotion inside Adeia's eyes changed once more, the razor-sharp edge of her deathly odachi piercing the ground with effortless precision.

"What is this ability that you're tapping into? I'm almost certain it'll have exigent consequences. Are you sure that this is something you're capable of withstanding?"

The sea of blood that enveloped them on all sides was quite strange. It didn't feel like actual blood, but rather a conversion and expansion of Kieran's commitment to his internal cause. 

But that cause, in these circumstances, was… nefarious, sinister and barbarous. 

In a fight like this, there was only kill or be killed. 

As he stood there, his Mana Pool completely empty, relying solely upon the Mana embedded in the deepest recesses of his blood, Kieran reckoned he understood the truths of this place. 

Surprisingly, his supposed findings did not relate to the Fallen Gladiators he was first introduced to or the subsequent Fallen Commanders.

Kieran had once felt this War Phantasmagoria was strange, but the thought didn't first happen after entering the trial grounds. It was something he had thought in passing when standing before the Bloodied Fountain. 

However, Kieran's temerity and belief in his preparations and encounters thus far diminished the severity of the question in his mind.

Why did standing before the War Phantasmagoria make him feel uneasy? 

Initially, Kieran believed it could be related to that strange blood soldier in possession of the tome he placed his hand upon.

Its aura was sturdy, as well as a decent facsimile of the energy stored inside the Bloodied Fountain. These similarities made Kieran's assumptions feasible, but he recalled some of the founding principles of Eni's mystical abilities, the abilities imparted unto him.

Never stop questioning. Never stop learning. Never stop looking to the unknown that produces uneasiness to acquire answers. 

These principles were never uttered to Kieran, but the moment he accepted the Archaic Verity Compendium into his soul, those teachings—a kind of unique and defining mantra—were infused into his soul.

While his body staggered, threatening to stumble over, Kieran defiantly stabbed Crimson Ashrune into the ground, steadying himself for as long as possible.  ᴛʜɪs ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ɪs ᴜᴘᴅᴀᴛᴇ ʙʏ novelenglish.net . Firᴇ.net

To withstand the harrowing torture of this upcoming attack, his resolve, determination and tenacity had to be unshakable. 

If his mindset was not absolute and inflexible, it'll all crumble apart.

For this… Kieran understood that Deranged Spirit served zero purpose, deactivating it a moment later.

Struggling to maintain a clear thought was not conducive to his end goal.

'I don't know how long I've been fighting against these things for. But it couldn't have been that long. Yet, at the same time… it also feels like an eternity. Like I've been traversing death's edge for countless years.'

Sputtering and clearing his throat of some obstructive and coagulated blood, Kieran continued to recount his experiences, using the pain and suffering as an incentive to keep himself from failing subconsciously.

'I've been beaten, bruised, battered… tormented, overwhelmed at every turn while toiling to keep going. I've exhausted almost everything in my arsenal, and yet… Adeia only grows stronger. Is this how it feels to come face to face with an insurmountable enemy? Perhaps not.'

Looking at the four objectives of the trial, Kieran now approached their perspective from a different angle. 

All this time, he thought they were direct instructions that explained his purpose in this place. 

However, it was much simpler. 

The simplicity of it all could be easily misconstrued by thinking the missive of the trial were monotonous and vapid. Like the other messages, they existed as hints of what he needed to do to gain the most from this place.

The first objective—battle—was multifaceted. One who only entered this place to refine their bloodthirst and consolidate their murderous intent could battle until they perished. 

But this wasn't the fastest nor the most efficient method to increase one's lethality in battle.

Looking at the concept of battle from one angle could hone the body, but true battle occurred in the combatant's mind. 

A battle of one's thoughts, instincts, and decisions. 

Had Kieran realized that he was being mentally drained faster than his actions permitted, perhaps his approach would be different.

Sadly, it was so subtle that the system didn't notify him of its effect.

Of course, it was always possible that it wasn't designed to alarm him. After all, the greater and more realistic the risk, the better death's consequences were simulated.

'Battle the War Phantasmagoria…' 

Kieran looked up, gazing at the bleak, gray sun looming in the sky. This was the first time the enemies within a trial ground weren't the true enemy. 

The true enemy was the War Phantasmagoria.

Armed with this realization, Kieran tweaked the meaning of every objective.

'Endure the War Phantasmagoria…'

Ignoring what round he reached, Kieran realized that his conviction was tempered the longer he stayed in this place. Unfortunately, it was not something he could withstand indefinitely. 

Those anguished and demoralized thoughts were the results of War Phantasmagoria amplifying with each round.

And surprisingly enough, when his mental state suffered wounds, his body responded accordingly. There was a subtle and almost indescribable connection between his body and mind, even if it seemed like his blood was against the idea of submission.

Kieran couldn't heal properly; he couldn't access his inventory outside of the items equipped to his body. 

All he could do was endure and battle against the War Phantasmagoria's mental debilitation.

Deciding not to obsess over this restriction, Kieran visited the next objective.

'Kill the War Phantasmagoria…'

Out of the four, this one seemed the most strange to Kieran. 

Could this particular objective stem from Adeia's desires? Had her willpower grown enough to subtly influence the objective of a Relic's trial grounds? If so, was this growth outside of Adeia's notice? 

Based on her words up until now, Kieran felt like she was oblivious to this fact. Perhaps the years of despair clouded her understanding, inevitably forming a veil of bleakness over her eyes.

Though, if Kieran looked at it differently, the meaning of this objective could also translate to him extinguishing his doubts. 

Doubts had no home or refuge on the battlefield. It was to be exiled and evicted, giving way to a ruthless and streamlined path to one's continuance.

Again, Kieran's mind traveled to a phrase. 'Kill or be killed.'

A concise statement, yet it embodied the simplest concept of battling… of war. 

Lastly… there was the objective to survive. 

After you have battled your enemy, endured their ceaseless and desperate onslaught, and killed them, all that was left was to survive. 

To emerge the victor.

After combining these four objectives, or perhaps principles… Kieran realized something even more disturbing and wondered if it was meant to be discovered. 

'If we go by the meaning of this name, it's possible that this trial was designed to create a nightmare of war… but could such an individual be controlled? The likelihood of that is extremely low. I wouldn't even count on it. After all, only a special kind of person willing to discard their humanity could….'

Realizing his current train of thought, Kieran felt unusual, like he had collided with an imaginary brick wall. Soon, he staggered, his one good eye widening to its limits.

Requiring a special kind of individual. Someone willing to discard their humanity. A nightmare of war that perhaps couldn't be contained…

Were some of these traits not what Hekaina spoke of? Was this War Phantasmagoria perhaps created to locate a Harbinger? If so… why? 

Amidst his questions, Kieran found himself descending further into a sea of perplexing curiosities, to which only one person could give an answer. But first… he had to go against Scar's warnings.

If his suspicions were correct, Kieran felt he had a greater affinity with Adeia than he previously believed.

All of a sudden, the sea of blood trembled as strange archaic markings appeared on Kieran's body, starting at his arm, then slowly spreading to the center of his forehead, forming the marking of a crimson blade.

Initially deep red in color, it soon turned a foreboding and ominous black.

What was unusual about it all was this marking made the crimson rivers of blood cower.

And Adeia.

She sensed imminent danger, and thus immediately reacted. Her well-trained instincts commanded that she eliminate Kieran before he could complete whatever it was he was doing. 

It clearly contained enough power to devastate the War Phantasmagoria.

Such was the fearsome power of a Secret Art and why they seldom appeared unless passed down by a trusted master or through a Heritage Legacy.

Adeia attempted to drive her sword through Kieran's heart, but her advance was stopped by the sea of blood, which currently formed an almost impenetrable blood chrysalis around Kieran's body. 

The inside remained liquid, but Kieran could somehow breathe just fine. 

The chrysalis' outer shell, however, released an odious red gas that drifted upward, converging above Kieran's head.

On the other hand, the liquid inside stirred, forming a small dagger-like weapon in Kieran's hand. Without so much as a moment's hesitation, Kieran plunged the dagger into his heart as the markings on his body were set aflame.

This Secret Art—the one Scar warned him not to use unless in a dire situation—made his previously fearsome body deflate, becoming dangerously gaunt.

His blood that was scattered across the War Phantasmagoria also lost its vibrant luster.

"Sword of Vengeance:… Red Cessation."

Everything seemed to come to a standstill, utterly motionless and eerily silent. Then, an enormous red blade, seemingly forged by the world for a vengeful deity, pierced the sky of the War Phantasmagoria.