Die. Respawn. Repeat.

I close my eyes and breathe.

The artifact the crows gave to me is a lot harder to fully access than I’d imagined—even with all the ways I’ve grown, the imbuement within the stone is woven with so much complexity that reaching any useful information is a challenge at best. I’ve retrieved a number of different visions, stories, and tales, but nothing I was explicitly looking for.

It’s not just about quantity. If it were, it would be trivial to navigate with Guard’s help. The problem is the density of information and the sheer precision required. It’s easier to hit the wrong pocket of information than it is to get to the right one, and the amount of control needed combined with the sheer density of Firmament required to even make any amount of headway…

I open my eyes, staring at the egg-like artifact with a scowl that slowly turns into a wistful sort of smile.

It’s just like Tarin to give me something that’s basically a whole new form of training. Part of me wants to talk to him about it, tell him about my progress. Another part of me wants to avoid it entirely. It’ll be one thing if he remembers this last loop—even that would be bittersweet, considering—but another thing entirely if he doesn’t.

I’m a little worried about what that might do to Naru, to my surprise.

Still, there’s nothing I can do about it here. I just need to work on my Firmament Control. I might be able to acquire some Mastery in the skill, and hopefully that will give me the edge I need, but somehow I doubt it. It’s looking more and more like I’m going to need some kind of key to find the information I want. Something to act like a filter…

I frown, turning that thought over in my mind, then think back to the first vision I ever received. The one about the harpy.

I hold that image in my mind and feed Firmament slowly into the artifact, forming that Firmament with familiarity and recognition. Not a Concept, exactly, but something similar to a Thread.

There’s a clear, crystalline tone that emerges from it, and the image that feeds back into my mind is of a harpy woman, standing at the top of the cliff along which the Cliffside Crows live. I wince—I know what’s going to happen there—but it gets me thinking.

That should be where her true Remnant is, but I’ve been there and haven’t seen her. There has to be a trigger condition for these Trial echoes. Ahkelios wasn’t around for every loop, either. His initial echo only showed up every couple of loops; the first time I saw him was on the fifth, once more on the seventh, and I was finally able to link with him on the eleventh—

I stop.

It can’t be that simple, surely?

It better not be that simple.

Teluwat had to admit, this new Trialgoer had been useful. He was almost interested in meeting him for himself.

Or… no, he was lying to himself, at this point. He was enough of a man to admit to that. He was interested in meeting Ethan. Ethan didn’t seem particularly interested in meeting him, which was unfortunate; the little greeting card he’d sent a few loops ago hadn’t seemed to stick, as much as he’d been hoping it would.

No matter.

In truth, he would’ve been fine with letting Ethan do his thing. Teluwat wasn’t blind to the danger Hestia was in, and while he was very much comfortable with the power and prestige he’d secured for himself, none of it would mean much if Hestia fell to ruin. Among Hestia’s Trialgoers, he might have been the only one that actually understood how much danger their planet was in.

Which begged the question, of course, of why he hadn’t done anything about it sooner. The answer was simple: he couldn’t risk the Integrators figuring out what he’d done.

It was so very, very convenient that Ethan’s actions had cut them off from the planet. It meant he was free to work with his newfound Talent as he wished, and it meant he didn’t have to hide exactly how much he’d advanced from the other Trialgoers anymore.

“Isn’t that right, Versa?” Teluwat asked, his voice filled with false cheer. She stared at him, eyes full of fury, but she couldn’t do a thing. Or wouldn’t. Was there a difference? Her legs were merged with the ground beneath her. She couldn’t move without tearing herself apart, and while she did have that pesky little skill called Phaseslip, that only worked when the ground wasn’t considered a part of you.

Well, it would still work. She’d just have to phase the ground with her, and that wasn’t very practical for movement. It would also take up all her Firmament.

“Versa?” Teluwat drawled, a hint of warning in his voice. Versa hid her flinch well.

“I don’t know what you’re asking,” she said coolly. Ah, right. He did have a habit of expecting others to read his thoughts. Probably because he’d baked that ability into most of his servants.

Speaking of which, where was his son? He should’ve been back by now. Ah well; he’d look for him later.

“I’m asking if any of you knew how much I advanced,” Teluwat said cheerfully. He leaned forward. “You wouldn’t happen to have told Ethan about me, would you?”

Versa scowled at him. “No.”

Was she lying? She could’ve been. He hadn’t exactly tried to rework her mind yet. It was terribly boring, having everyone listen to him. He had no idea how the Trialgoer he’d stolen that ability from dealt with it. He also couldn’t remember her name, so it didn’t matter.

“What do you want?” Versa asked. Teluwat shrugged.

“I haven’t decided,” he said plainly. “But things have changed quite a bit, and this Trial might be the last one Hestia hosts. I’d like to make sure I’m in a good position when it ends, which means I have to choose a side…”

Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

He trailed off, his tone playful. “I could try to work with Ethan,” he said. “Though I think he’d have some problems with me, don’t you? Or I could try to find the source of all this strange Firmament and see if that can be bargained with.”

Teluwat glanced at the jar where a squirming, hateful piece of infected Firmament sat, wriggling furiously. It was only a fraction of the power whatever entity was controlling it held.

“All things considered,” he said thoughtfully. “I think my chances might be better with Ethan, but it might be better to play both sides…”

Teluwat paused. Versa was gone. In her place was two insectoid legs still latched into and merged with the concrete, along with a small puddle of blood; she’d torn her own legs off to escape.

Ah well. He had better things to attend to, anyway. “Filian!” he called. He’d changed that name a few times since he’d acquired the silverwisp. “Son! Where are you?”

No response. Sometimes he regretted adopting that child.

Then again, some small part of him enjoyed playing at having a family, and Teluwat was nothing if not someone that followed his whims.

Adeya scowled. The Integrators were amping up the difficulty of their Trials—to get them to break and complete it, no doubt. Or to convince them to leave said Trials entirely. Her Integrator had certainly hinted as much the last time she’d claimed an Inspiration, though she’d noted with interest that he didn’t quite seem to know why.

Did the Integrators themselves not know about the Sunken King? The only reason humanity was able to find out about him was the scattered texts they found in the dungeons they explored.

Always, those texts painted the same picture: three gods playing with the lives of their supplicants across countless planets, experimenting, creating some system of power that was either the Interface or the idea of Firmament itself. Possibly both. Always, they ended the same way: betrayal and imprisonment. Accounts of who did the betraying were varied, but the imprisoned one was always the same.

The Sunken King. According to some records, he was a snake within the Firmament. According to others, he was a contamination that fueled its power.

The texts claimed that the Integrators would herald his return, but Adeya was becoming more and more certain they weren’t doing it on purpose. They were acting in accordance to a plan set in motion long ago, and they didn’t even know why.

It would’ve been an exploitable weakness if only any of the Integrators they’d been in contact with were willing to listen. Adeya sighed, wondering if that Ethan man had been luckier; it would explain how he’d advanced to the cusp of the third layer so quickly.

Even then, it wouldn’t help unless they could get in contact with him.

Her thoughts were interrupted by a great, winged beast almost materializing out of the sky, grasping at her with wicked-looking claws. Adeya narrowed her eyes and activated Identify.

The skill was a new one. As far as they could tell, it started showing up on their Interfaces only a few days ago, offered whenever someone banked Firmament credits. It was only Rank F, but one didn’t give up any kind of informational advantage over their enemy.

Sure enough, the label appeared over the monster. It was a Greater Falcon, Rank A. Adeya nodded to herself. She could deal with that.

Crystalline wings of Firmament erupted from her shoulderblades. Adeya smiled.

There were many things she hated about the Trials, but this—the ability to fly free under her own power—wasn’t one of them.

The fight was short but brutal; Adeya came out of it with a massive laceration down her right arm that made her wince every time she moved. The Greater Falcon, on the other hand, had been ripped into unrecognizable shreds that were even now dissolving into wisps of purified Firmament.

An even trade, as far as Adeya was concerned, even if she wasn’t necessarily happy with her performance. Should have played evasive first, she thought to herself, irritated. Mother would be disappointed.

As was reflex by now, she began carefully feeding those wisps of Firmament into her core, though with her latest phase shift it made little difference. As she did, she wondered how her mother was doing. It had been far too long since any of them had managed to get in contact with the governments of Earth, let alone their families.

Adeya grimaced as she went to stand, her arm immediately blaring out a complaint; she looked down to examine the injury. It was worse than she’d thought—it would take a day or two to heal, even with the accelerated healing of a third-layer practitioner. That was a day or two she couldn’t afford.

Which meant it was probably time to visit a dungeon again. She was behind on dungeon clears, anyway; Zhao Hu was getting ahead of her, and she couldn’t have that.

“Let’s see,” she muttered to herself. A quick glance through the Interface told her there was an active attempt to delve the Sewers. She frowned—that one had been closed for days, for reasons no one could discern. Was it open again?

It didn’t matter. There were two other Trialgoers in that dungeon, and one of them was role-marked as a healer; she’d be able to get her arm fixed up there. She wasted no time opening the dungeon portal and stepping through.

Adeya was exhausted.

They’d been locked in the dungeon. She barely knew how long they’d been in here—longer than she’d ever been stuck in any one place. All things considered, a place called the Sewers was not a place she would’ve chosen to die.

Not that any place in the Trials was a place she would’ve chosen to die.

The worst part was that the monsters, individually, weren’t difficult. The problem was that they swarmed in alternating waves that gave them very little time to rest, or eat, or do anything that humans needed to do. Dhruv and Jonathan were unfortunately only second-layer practitioners and needed more sleep than she did; more often than not, she found herself keeping watch with one or the other as they alternated taking breaks.

Worse still, the Interface gave them no sign as to what they needed to do to break free. How many days had it been now, cornered in some isolated passageway of the Sewers? They couldn’t keep this up forever. Right now, their only hope was someone from the outside opening a portal into the dungeon they were in—

Voices echoed down the passage, and Adeya stood, suddenly on high alert. The two behind her glanced at each other warily, but followed her lead as she stepped forward, partially disbelieving, partially hopeful.

There were people here. Not humans, given the sound of their voices and footsteps, but people meant a way out. An exit. If nothing else, it meant information on where they were and what they were supposed to do.

“Excuse me,” Adeya said politely, stepping into the main passageway and in front of the group of… what were they? They looked a little like anthropomorphic beetles, although she wondered if that comparison was demeaning. The entire group stopped in their tracks and tensed when Adeya emerged from the sewers, but the one leading the group relaxed soon after.

“Protectors?” he said. “We didn’t do any summoning rituals…”

“Not just Protectors,” a shorter beetle-alien said, frowning in thought. She wondered if they were brothers—they certainly looked the part. “I think they’re from the same world as Ethan.”

Adeya froze.

She’d looked over the list of human Trialgoers countless times, wondering and worrying every time another name disappeared. There was only one Ethan in the Trials.

“You know Ethan?” she demanded before she could stop herself. “You’ve met him?”

The leader of the group in front of her—Juri—blinked. “We met him years ago,” he said. “When we were still children. He defended our mother from… well, it’s a complicated story.”

Adeya took a deep breath. “Will you tell me what you know about him?” she said, trying to keep the urgency from bleeding into her tone. She hadn’t been expecting this, of all dungeons, to finally contain some sort of clue about what Ethan had been doing. “We’ll help you with what you’re doing here in exchange.”

That was likely what they needed to do to get out of the dungeon anyway. Juri seemed hesitant at first, but eventually nodded.

“I suppose we might as well set up camp and talk,” he decided. “You three look exhausted.”

“We are also hungry,” Dhruv said hopefully from behind her. Adeya suppressed a sigh. He wasn’t… wrong. It would be good to have some real food.

Fortunately, the ones Adeya would come to know as the scirix were more than willing to share.