Zenith Online: Rebirth of the Strongest Player

Kieran's previous endeavor was a tiresome and grueling affair, but it bore immediate fruits.

The Flame's corruption had not dissipated or disappeared. Still, its overwhelming influence had been subdued, or more precisely, met with an opposing but equal force to neutralize its nefarious impact.

The mordant voices that had compelled Kieran to crave heinous things were growing distorted and distant, but they warred against that muting force, retaliating out of sheer terrified defiance.

The Flame grieved when it felt its tainting dominion over Kieran's thoughts and actions being challenged by its parallel. Against a pitiful opponent, the Flame was unperturbed and disinterested, but against an adversary of matching might, it felt unique despair.

It could not tolerate suffering a loss. It drove the Flame mad, madder than it was slowly driving Kieran. The thing was a sore, whiny loser that waged reprehensible sedition.

Tyrannical might that approached a titanic depth threatened to sink Kieran's soul into an infernal abyss. But the Flame was denied that vindictive satisfaction, not by the mystical energy saturating Kieran's Realm of Self, but by the actual titanic weight that secured Kieran's soul in place.

It was a burden, but it was also Kieran's saving grace.

Without the Anchor's absolute placement… the Flame would have succeeded in attempts to raze mutually assured destruction.

'You're a naughty and petulant thing, aren't you? Are you throwing a childish tantrum because I am no longer your toy? Well… Flame, I can't hear you from over there.'

The tables subtly turning in Kieran's favor was a delightful situation. He didn't squander the opportunity to taunt the Flame in an equally scathing tone.

The vestiges of corruption buzzed with malice, bloodlust, and every bit of vile emotion the Flame had consumed and cultivated over perhaps countless years.

'Aw, boohoo. Cry about it. The court's in my favor now, you damned thing. I make the rules!'

Of course, the tables hadn't actually turned in Kieran's favor. His crude defense had only bore fruit against the Flame's currently pitiful state. But in his current condition, Kieran did not have the means or time to repeatedly accumulate massive amounts of mystical essence.

Thus, he changed his approach altogether, doing something experimental, foolish, and potentially harmful. At one point, the consequences of his experiment far outweighed the imaginable gains.

'Let's call it a leap of faith… for the faithless.'

Kieran had not been given any concrete evidence that true Gods existed, and because of that, he doubted their existence. That wasn't his fault; he was a skeptic by nature. Until proven, he rarely trusted in anything.

That much was confirmed through his developing relationship with his teammates. They weren't the strongest or the most talented, but they had stuck by his side, and that was immensely more valuable than raw talent.

Raw talent tended to be the focus of poaching.

Of course, betrayals could happen—that wasn't off the table, but Kieran exhorted himself not to dwell on those thoughts. Allowing thoughts like those to fester could ultimately lead to him ruining what he had begun to build.

Nevertheless, Kieran had pressed on with his endeavor. And by the grace of something… he had succeeded by a hair's breadth.

That success, however, was primarily due to Cardinal Weiss' lack of presence during the last few weeks. He was usually attentive, but Kieran reckoned that Weiss' continued absence meant he was not on the temple grounds above the Stone Hold.

Repairing his Mystic Gate to its full glory was a moot option. So, Kieran had opted to break it down to its elemental parts and reconfigure it in another shape—the shape of the Fifth Syllable—meaning Equality.

As Kieran had learned through trial, error, and utilization, the Fifth Supreme Letter—Equality—aimed to attain balance in all it partook. That's why Kieran gained a sense of mental equilibrium whenever the Syllable was stimulated, and it was long-lasting, offering a serene environment.

If not for its long-lasting effects, Kieran would have despaired. The grand form of this Supreme Lettering consumed an oceanic amount of mystical essence.

Luckily, only the arousal of Equality consumed that much mystical essence. The giant symbol found its equilibrium not long after, entering a passive state where it radiated a continual harmonic tune.

Like Kieran had assumed, the Flame did not appreciate the presence of this mystic might. It recoiled and avoided it with unnerved caution, which was strange considering the Supreme Lettering was rarely used as a weapon.

But… it was a sublime defense.

With his Mystic Gate taking on the crude appearance of Equality, Kieran felt poised to overwhelm, subdue, and contain the Flame.

After all, Hekaina had accomplished something similar, sealing the weakened Argexes through the use of Supreme Lettering. And in light of that feat, Kieran could maybe achieve something similar. With the help of that mystical might, what was once malignant grew uncharacteristically benign.

'So I was sabotaged. Is that right, you repulsive thing? By you and the Trial… or maybe you two are one and the same. Regardless, your weakness has been exposed. You fear the Mystic Gate, and maybe I don't need blood. Maybe the Gate is enough.'

Previously, Kieran had interacted and bargained with the Flame from a clear position of inferiority. He needed the Flame, but the vile thing only wanted Kieran. But now, his needs had changed, ruling the Flame out of the equation.

Needless to say, his primary focus was to continue shoring up the weakness of the grand Fifth Syllable floating in his Realm of Self.

A drastic shift from the Flame to mysticism took place. And Kieran could tell from the noxious emotions oozing out to tentatively assail the mystic might to no avail.

'Poor little Flame, you're like a caged feral beast. You want to erupt in outrage, but there's nowhere for you to go. Serves you right. You should have struck a deal. I'm quite fair, you know? Your loss.'

It was Kieran's turn to become the mordant voice, fomenting the Flame's captive ire. How the tables had turned.

During this time, Kieran spent many moments considering what to do with the Flame and how it related to overcoming the Trial.

From what Kieran gathered, there was no single correct method to overcome the Trial, and any progress in his subclass was graciously welcomed.

'I just need to survive without becoming Broken, right? Is that the clearing condition of this Trial?'

It sounded plausible, but Kieran didn't know.

Dying felt pretty impossible with the presence of this bizarre Flame. Cardinal Weiss was a prime example of how this flame overrode Death's authority. No… it was more fitting to say it consumed that authority.

Was there an authority higher than Death, though? It was absolute and came for all. There was no escaping it, yet… these fanatics continued defying death through this Flame's twisted grace.

For as long as reasonably possible, Kieran ignored but also tormented the Flame. His subsequent weeks and months were spent reinforcing the Symbol of Equality with newly extracted pieces of his disparate soul.

When not tampering with the Supreme Letter, Kieran felt at peace swinging his tapered, steel longsword. His movements were becoming sharper, filled with lucid savagery. It was not the Flame that called for this savagery; Kieran desired it.

It was the only style of battle he knew; it was ingrained in him. The Flame hadn't influenced this part of him because it was uncalled for.

However, beneath that savagery was a sober and keen mind.

All things considered, Kieran felt the trial was finally going good. Well, until it wasn't.

The second Culling of the Voiceless was upon him, and he could feel the Flame burn with glee.

The starved Flame was about to be served a sumptuous meal!