Chương 210: Quite the View

Solan rode her massive chain through the Bodytwisters' rear lines. Occasionally, she had the screaming steel links whip out to the side, obliterating hundreds. She ignored their deaths. They meant less than nothing. It didn't take long to work her way through the border and back into her cult's territory. Solan had expected the place to be the front line of a major assault, but found little more than skirmishes. The Bodytwisters' lack of aggression certainly raised questions.

Were they unconcerned by the major ritual? Solan herself hadn't been there to oversee it, so it was a fair assessment. The lack of action might also indicate the cult had spread themselves thin. Or that they prioritised the battlefield with the Scriptures. In other circumstances, Solan might have been insulted by the implication. But she'd put little stake in this war, and hence, so had her underlings.

And besides, it was no surprise they'd shifted most of their resources to the battlefield Solan herself had been fighting within. But no more. Finally, she'd fulfilled her role in Zoaul's little play, and could now get back to what was of utmost import: the hunt for the perfect sacrifice. Solan had capitulated to Zoaul's whims in order for that girl to remain invisible. She was too important.

And so long as Solan could gain the girl for herself, she was more than happy to allow her cult to be dragged into a war they didn't care for. But before she planned her assault on the Technocult cathedral, Solan had an Island to deal with.

"S͍̾ølą̛́̄n̼̙͈̘̄̍̓͘-K̨̩̯͚̻͎̙̩͚͚'K͙͔a͔n̡͎ṱ̡̿͗̚'l̹̮-R̫̜̩u͂̇'a͚͌̏n̫̝̔̉̍." Upon her arrival, K'Noirus curtsied. Her head bowing low, as was only proper.

"Z͐a̟͠n̖͐di̥s͈t̝̾h̃̔́ and his faction have taken command of the ritual Island in your absence."

"Yes, yes. I expected as much," Solan dismissed, brushing past her most loyal follower. Let's see how greedy he decided to be." Originally, she intended for K'Noirus to manage the next major ritual, but the sudden war threw much into disorder. She didn't blame Zandisth, of course. It was technically within his role to oversee such things, but she still found it almost amusing how clear his intent was. The only question, was how far he would take those ambitions.

If he was smart, he'd hold back for his first major ritual. Empower his faction. She despised the idea of a slice of her cult that she didn't control in its entirety gaining any more ground, but it would benefit the cult as a whole. And if he was too greedy… well, Solan wasn't concerned. The man was young. He'd risen rapidly in his time, but there was only so much one could experience within four decades. Some entities existing out there — hidden by countless veils — could not be called.

To do so would invite disaster. The ritual and binding procedures could be assessed to perfection, and still, it would fail. She had seen it before. Existences that delivered horrors upon those who dared to summon them beyond mortal comprehension. Only two hundred years past, there had been a fifth pinnacle cult. All million members had their nervous systems flower out from their skin before unleashing deadly spores.

Their temple, and a significant chunk of Coral had to be sliced off due to the lingering toxicity alone. Considering how aware she was of the danger posed by the greater gods, one might think her foolish be so ready to call down the Eidolons. But that was just the thing: they weren't gods. This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

Where gods were entities that looked down on humanity as if they were ants — or the cells that form those ants — Eidolons saw gods the same way. No, they perceived all of reality as less than a grain of sand. For them, it was easier to destroy an entire world than a single person. They were beyond anger, hunger, and any other concept that the gods still exhibited. Often embraced. They were beyond time.

Considering that, if anyone had ever done something to garner their ire, then none of them would have ever existed. Knowing that, she was willing to take the risk that a single infinitely valuable sacrifice will bring benevolence. And it was what her god demanded. Solan and her right hand entered the observation deck overseeing her Island. The space was adorned luxuriously, but had nobody to enjoy such indulgences since last she'd been here, years ago. Not that she intended to stay long.

She leaned against the balcony as K'Noirus scuttled for the bar. From here, the Deific Tempest seemed almost calm. The sheen of falling light was constant and still. But simply peering down at the Island — the way it swayed in the solar wind — proved it was anything but. By the amount of damage cutting into the Island's topside, this was stronger than any other she'd seen.

Leaning out and peering up — though the act didn't give her any better view of the Great Iris — Solan wondered if the Cult of Everseeing Eye had melted their eyes yet. Obsessive as they were for the Iris, they wouldn't miss the opportunity. Even if their Observatory crumbled around them.

"Whisky." K'Noirus offered her a glass.

"Aged five thousand relative years." She had a mouthful, then tossed the rest over the balcony.

"Poison. Find the caster." Solan handed back the glass without bothering to turn away from the Island.

"You already killed the man."

"Hmm?" Solan turned.

"I did?"

"Seventy years ago," K'Noirus said with her typical clipped tone.

"He put our champion in a cast shell and lowered him down into the dilation zone."

"Right!" Solan realised.

"I took a liking to that kid, didn't I? We would have been sure to win the Trials that year."

"Yes. And you were less than forgiving," K'Noirus said. She had already found a different bottle.

"Did he try to poison me before he cast our champion down to become an aged husk?"

"Ten years before, I believe." She handed Solan the replaced glass.

"The bottle remained unopened." There was no foul taste this time. Momentarily, she wondered how often this happened; an incensed assassin planting their methods of killing in such peculiar ways that they never went discovered. Many of those stuck below tenth evolution struggled to grasp the sheer magnitude of names that tended to accumulate after a certain point.

Solan had never bothered with body-enhancement names, yet so long as she did things in person — as she preferred to do — then these unnecessary bonuses tended to show up. She could eat raw, molten steel and be fine. A sudden wave of power pulsed out from the Island.

"The ritual has failed." K'Noirus relayed the information as she received it.

"Worst case scenario. Shall I sever the bridges?" Solan hadn't needed to be told. Her own god's claw in her heart clenched at the arrival of whatever Zandisth had brought to them. Foolish. Wasting no time, she pushed her influence through the fleshforged bridges and had them unravel. The Island drifted away. Slowly, the black hole discovered its sudden freedom, and began to pull it down. And for good cause, too.

In only a dozen seconds, a hole expanded through the entirety of the Island, creating a seemingly endless pit to what was clearly not natural space. Zandisth had summoned The Soulchasm. Insolent. The only reason he'd want something like that, was if he intended to overthrow Solan herself. He never would have been able to control it. But this wasn't just out of control; this was a full godly manifestation. Something had to have gone seriously wrong for that to have happened.

Not only had he fed all of her cultists to this other god, but they would gain nothing from this. Solan was about ready to throw Zandisth on her hunting list above Nyxila, when she noticed a figure falling sideways through the Deific Tempest. She snorted. Of course someone stupid enough to attempt summoning an entity like that would fail to prepare proper countermeasures for defying a god. She — and her god — had lost a lot of quality meat today. It was a massive loss.

Looking at it from a different angle, she should be glad the disrupter and the cattle that followed him were gone. She couldn't feed them to her god, as their souls were destined, but Zandisth would bother her no more. Solan placed her glass on the balcony rail. It wouldn't be touched again. Once she gathered the perfect sacrifice, all of Coral would be hers, and her god's. She turned from the sinking vessel of The Soulchasm, and set out to find Nyxila. Wherever she might hide.