The Fool's Freedom

In dreams, one could come to know the truth hidden from the waking eyes.

In dreams, one could get a glimpse of what hides in the deep – the ones who silently pull the strings of our true faces. A subconscious mark, a scar, or a simple trigger that could, without revealing itself, start a chain of events that impact a whole universe.

In dreams, she still lived. Not a patron, nor a spirit. Very far from a God. A simple remnant of former glory, a memory of what once was and was no longer to be. She was but a speck of unnoticeable dust nesting deep into the consciousness of a strange human, hiding from the myriad of strange beings roaming the living realm.

And with the human, she would grow. Before taking, however, she would have to give.

***

Shadows like a veil covered a small world. Beings sat among castles of the darkest stone on chairs of simple dirt. Not one alike, but each smiling, each talking. Some were alone, surrounded only by the shadows that whispered to them. Others stood in small groups, comparing scars or sharing stories of their deeds. They were not many, but they were strong.

It was too much to call them a race, as they had not evolved to be this way. It had simply happened. A shift of mindset, an acceptance, or a lucky break – it didn’t matter. It was a consequence of a change significant enough to be sensed by the System as something defining. Humans, lisarni, elves… myriad races, becoming one.

Among them were those that stood out. Those that had become truly and unforgivingly unique. Their very existence was a thorn in the eyes of the powers that be. They held both the compassion of a kind child and the savagery of a rabid beast, always balancing, always in control.

They were all gone now. Gone to somewhere far away where even death dared not walk alone.

It was but a dream in the void.

***

A shadow coffin swam in emptiness as endless as the depths of the deepest sea and all-encompassing as the shell of a walnut. It touched upon the shadows, suffocating them. Not like light would. Emptiness was after all neither darkness nor light. A state of nonexistence that had somehow become a defined thing.

There were… things, roaming about. Things of a strange nature. Things even spirits dared not take lightly.

Odu looked around nervously. He was a spirit, a great being of mystique. He had countless eons behind his back and even more so behind that too. He was ancient by any standard but the spirit one. To the spirits, he was a young fledging, just making it in the world. The human he had tried to cheat was to elevate him to new heights and make his name tremble through the Spirit World!

Instead, his plan had been ruined and now he had to pay reparations. HIM!

Odu, of the Wavy Mists.

Odu, of the Great Spirit Sea.

Odu, the Fisherman, the Cheat, the Lying Fatty, or the Fatty of the Waves.

What spirit apologized for his tricks and lies?! What spirits had to work tirelessly to repay a simple-minded human?!

Only Odu, the Sad and Angry.

No matter. Speaking to a human was a boon enough. The Spirits had a hard time connecting to the Living Realm since the Thrones forbade it. A human with a title that made him an anchor – a gateway – was a prize enough.

Odu nodded to himself. He had been blinded by greed and by luck. He would salvage it all with his generosity and he would exploit the human until there was nothing to exploit.

However, something had gone wrong.

As any other time, he had fished for the now familiar connection of the one who called himself Alan, the one whose gaze was both simple, inexperienced, and yet containing myriad shadows. He had tried to pull him to the border, where spirits dealt with the living fools.

Yet…

Something had pulled him back as if the human was a weight no longer as easily moved by the likes of the Great Odu, lesser spirit extraordinaire.

That was a preposterous thought! It was just a human. A squishy sad little human.

He looked around with some level of worry. There was… nothing. Not even darkness. It was just blankness.

And the nothing bit at him!

Odu frowned. Spirit mana was different than any other mana and few things could affect it or his body. It was like ants trying to tear down a great giant, but it was still more than he’d experienced. Annoying. And where was the human? Was this some kind of trap?

Once, humans had been notorious for trying to trap spirits or skew deals in their favor. It never worked, of course, but it was a fun joke among the spirits of old. What could a being with a lifespan that was but a fleeting moment have on the great spirits?

Odu grew excited at the prospect. Finally, he would have a story of his own. Enid would die of embarrassment. The old hag had been nothing but an annoyance at his side.

His eyes finally found something, not without the help of his spiritual sense. It was a dark shadowy blob among the empty void. The nothingness was picking at it too but… in a different way.

“Human,” he tried to say mustering all of his authority. It didn’t work. How could it not work? Where was his voice? Was it the emptiness doing it?

He had heard stories of the cracks between the worlds, remnants of when the realms had fractured to create existence as had been for longer than he knew now. There were also those pockets of emptiness created when a great being was torn apart and slain, or when a grand world was broken apart.

Maybe that was it? Were there… treasures here then?

Odu looked at the dark blob again. Was this the human? The presence was vaguely familiar but also much more complex than he remembered. Surely it couldn't have been that long? A month? Few years at most? Odu was not great with time. He found its passage depressing and worthless.

He tried to move closer, but it seemed like he was both next to the blob and infinitely far away from it. That was getting annoying. He was a great spirit! He demanded his wishes become true! His will burst out of him like a great tidal wave that could drown a world.

And that was it.

A moment or a week passed, but his wishes didn’t seem to hold any intention of bending reality to his benefit. Nor did the emptiness around care about his show of anger.

Odu frowned further. It was a rare event for him to be stumped like he was. He could ask for help, but his fellow spirits were untrustworthy and quite annoying. They were sure to steal whatever benefits awaited for themselves.

He decided to wait for a while. At the very least until his mind solved the problem that had so eloquently presented itself.

The void bit at him. Odu shrugged it off and took out his fishing rod. Maybe there was a way to profit from it all? Humans were the best toys after all.

***

An Empire whose cities were built of gold and crystal, and whose scions were famous far and wide, reduced to rubble.

A necessity.

Nirat, Forerunner and [Scout], devout servant of the Third Prince under Her Majesty the Empress, sat on the edge of dirt and stone watching the so-called Sanctuary made of grey featureless ruins. It was a pathetic sight. He had run for a month straight using his fastest speed and dodging unknown terrors to penetrate deep into the unknown lands he was now mapping out.

He had found even caught one of its members – a strange and foolish being of crushed spirit and sharp teeth. An elf, it had called itself. Pathetic. Those were not elves more than he was an elf. Elves were filled with grace and strength, their natural vitality and gift for magic overshadowing their likeness to the weak humans.

Even through the merger of worlds, the Empire had managed to hold onto some of its glory. Its ruins – which the System had repurposed and twisted without care – were works of art that filled the soul with awe and made one wish to worship… at least to an extent. They were still a jumbled mess that would send any [Arcane Architect] into deep sorrow. Nirat was not blinded enough by his devotion to deny that.

However, restorations were going well. The [Architects] and [Builders] were working hard to reach their previous levels, and with the knowledge they possessed, it would be a triviality.

The Empire’s Sanctuaries were quickly growing and supporting one another to create a network and expand. Soon, the new world would be theirs in all its glory.

Yet, he had been against undergoing a full reset and forcing their world into the cycle of integration. Losing his hard-earned levels and skills was painful beyond anything he had imagined. A sense of loss that was comparable only to disappointing the Empress. Now, he had to start over. It had been long since Nirat felt so weak.

However, he already noticed how it allowed him to build upon his previous knowledge. He was an inheritor of his own legacy, in a sense, and this time he could fix all the mistakes that had plagued him previously. He would learn better, choose wiser, and go further in strength than ever thought possible. He would rise through the ranks and stand among the best of their race.

The very thought of that made his blood boil.

He understood better now. To walk with the greats, one had to make sacrifices and they had made the greatest possible sacrifice. Their Empire had been stagnant, and being stagnant meant death. Their world and their people had exhausted their potential, and they would forever remain a third-rate power in the Myriad Realm if they had not taken steps to ignite the flame once again, to start anew.

Billions had forsaken their classes in a massive ritual, and a deal with the worst of spirits that had shown power thought impossible even for those sitting upon the Thrones. It had been a gamble, and it had paid off. The death toll had been massive too, but all had known greatness’ price.

To be in a world built for newly integrated species, while possessing all the inherent knowledge of a civilization that had lasted for millennia under the System, was incomparable to anything. The System made it so new civilization had a chance to rise with speed impossible for any established power. Of course, most failed to use that chance, and once the world protection wore off, others picked at the treasures and opportunities hidden everywhere.

Their Empire would not be one of the fools. The primitives of the world would be cleansed or made slaves if found worthy.

And yet… Someone had stolen the title of [First Pathfinder] from beneath the nose of the Third Prince. If it was one of theirs it would be made known, as the Empress knew all that happened. The reasons why the title was of importance were not made clear, but many had been sent to look for the intelligent being capable of achieving such a feat so soon after integration. It was not possible for another larger force to play a part in the same scheme.

What they had done was unprecedented!

And there was another issue that picked at his mind – a human roaming the border where the forest met sands. He had seen the man from afar, dealing death to the rotting monsters lurking in this part of the green lands, wielding fire like it was a trivial thing. Of all things, Nirat hated fire the most.

Such a human was bad news. The most adaptable and fastest growing race, they called them. He had scoffed at that. Squishy, having only two weak hands and two weak legs. Pathetic, and hellbent on killing one another as if the universe didn’t hold enough danger already. Yet, they had prospered and even the arrogant dragons often took the shape of a human to converse.

And that human that ruled the fire as if he was born in it had seared itself in Nirat’s mind. And Nirat was sure he had been sensed too. He had run then. There was no shame in retreating for the good of the Empire. Honor was reserved among themselves, not for the lesser races that would be food or slaves.

“May the Empress’ breath give me strength,” Nirat whispered to himself and moved like a ghost through the foliage. There had to be more Sanctuaries nearby. Two of his hands were mapping each landmark with lightning speed, while his many eyes scouted the forest ahead.

The Empire would rise again.