Chapter 1,311.

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The circumstances were identical to when Zac was forced to use the Yphelion’s newly installed Death-attuned escape engine. Zac's first instinct was that one of the Fifth Pillar’s myriad gates had taken them out of the ashes and into the fire by sending them to Kālasūtra—the Threaded Hell. Certain details indicated the situation was more complicated than that.

The procession advancing one of the world’s thick threads was made from different creatures than Zac remembered, with only two of the pallbearers present for both his visits. That by itself didn’t necessarily hold a deeper meaning. The owner of the Threaded Hell might like to change things up. Then again, Zac had a feeling the procession wasn’t made of actual undead.

The thousands of unusual creatures lacked the spirituality of a sentient being, and their auras were perfectly synced. They seemed more like puppets than cultivators and beasts. Zac even suspected the whole parade was one huge treasure with the coffin as its core.

Whether these were puppets or unusual undead only seen in the Lower Planes, the current lineup was definitely stronger than the previous. Their auras were blinding, seemingly able to overturn the Heavens. This discrepancy was most notable with the coffin itself, and its differences weren’t limited to strength.

The coffin Zac saw last time was covered in scars left by Autarchs or even stronger combatants. Dozens of rusty weapons had also impaled it. Come to think of it, the two familiar pallbearers were also covered in scars during his last visit. Today, the black, unadorned coffin was in perfect condition, giving off such an unstoppable vigor that even the Fifth Pillar couldn’t encroach on its domain.

The Kālasūtra might very well be a reflection of its master since it shared the Realmlord’s strength. However, the burgeoning spirituality belied a weakness hiding beneath the surface, one that ancient cultivators would have a hard time spotting. The Dao of Death keeping the realm together was frayed. Zac would surely have noticed the issue during his last visit, so it could only mean one thing.

They hadn’t entered present-day Kālasūtra. They were visiting during a time earlier in the Peak of Chaos’s reformation, before the Realmlord fought whatever cataclysmic battle that left him riddled with scars. The realization did nothing to make Zac feel better. It only introduced the horrifying possibility that his fib meant to throw off Pervata Wendimar had become a reality—that they’d traveled back in time.

Zac desperately hoped they were inside a memory conjured by the trial—not that facing a simulated Realmlord was any better than dealing with the real thing. The whole world had been frozen by the coffin’s will, including Zac and Ogras. Even his bloodline was sealed forcing him to silently wait while the procession aligned and the coffin opened with an ancient groan.

Removing the lid felt like lifting an ancient seal. The Threaded Hell trembled, and its countless threads poured into the coffin, like they were returning to their origin. Even the threads that had appeared on him and Ogras joined the reunion. The millions of threads twisted into a bundle that gradually took the shape of a man rising from his grave.

Tears poured down Zac’s cheeks from being forced to witness the awakening of something infinitely above his current comprehension. The mighty [Eclipse Twin] that had pushed him to his limits was nothing but a worthless weed before the powers of Death gathered just twenty meters away from his position.

As Zac stared at the bundle, the bundle stared back. Countless eyes opened in the seams between threads, all of them pointing directly at him. Zac’s secrets were laid bare in a far more traumatizing manner than when he entered the Perennial Vastness. The eyes were propagating, growing from Zac’s flesh. They replaced his scorched eyes before rolling inward, and similar scenes took place throughout his body.

The eldritch exposure wasn’t limited to his physical body. Eerily calm eyes grew on his Soul Cores, turning them into biblically accurate angels. Eyes opened inside his Heart to inspect a trembling Warbringer Idol. They even entered the depths of his cells to witness the paused battle between his bloodline and the escaping Void Energy.

The only place spared was the Void. No eyes appeared inside [Purity of the Void], and none of the eyes entered the gateways beneath the golden hurricanes in his cells. The eyes also ignored the miniature suns inherited from the Stellar Wanderers. Whether it was a precaution or because the Realmlord couldn’t see them was impossible to say.

The nightmare didn’t last long. When Zac came to, he was no longer facing an eldritch god. Instead, it was a stalwart warrior decked in full body armor, not unlike Zac’s old skill [Undying Bulwark]. The armor was a beautiful aquamarine, like it was crafted from pure Miasma or Spiritual Jade. Its proportions were no different than a human’s, though Zac couldn’t see any hint of the man inside.

The warrior wasn’t looking at Zac. He was gazing at the sky, seemingly considering whether he should stab the Heavens with the glistening lance in his hand. Zac didn’t want to disturb, but he also couldn’t stand around doing nothing. He'd noticed that the seal on him had weakened and thought it might be a hint.

“Lord, we apologize for disturbing your rest. We entered your realm by accident,” Zac said, briefly glancing at his companion.

Ogras was still there, floating next to him with a blank look on his face. He either remained trapped by the swarm of eyes or was rendered unconscious by the Realmlord. Being alive could only be taken as a good sign. Real or not, they were facing a genuine Supremacy. If the knight wanted them dead, they’d be dead without a shadow of a doubt.

“Accident… Or providence?” the knight murmured, never taking his eyes off the sky. “Life in Death, Death in Life. You have built a bridge of Void to walk the edge.”

Zac wasn’t surprised the ruler of the Threaded Hell had seen through his path. Sendor had easily done the same, as had one of his B-grade followers. The man before Zac was likely at the same level as Sendor, at least inside this Lower Plane. If that wasn’t clue enough, Zac was covered in cracks leaking Void Energy. Even his Void Vortex had been immobilized and floated behind him.

Seeing the Void being subdued by the Realmlord was a brutal reminder that his unique advantages and having an unprecedented path were useless before raw power. The Heavens and Earth had to give way to Supremacy inside their Territory, so what did a Hegemon’s personal Void amount to?

“That’s correct, though it’s still early. There’s a high risk this road is a dead end,” Zac said. He didn’t believe that, but he also didn’t want to keep attention to his unique approach. “I fear I have nothing that would interest Lord, so I can only offer my sincerest apologies for our transgression. Unless Lord has any parting words, we’ll immediately get out of your way.”

The knight ignored Zac, his voice growing distant. “I see… this is what you promised.”

Zac’s heart seized when the knight pointed an armored finger at him. His horror mounted when a streak of transcendent Death entered his body. To his relief, it was nothing like the [Eclipse Twin]’s overbearing spirituality. It was perfectly controlled, holding boundless power without letting so much as a morsel leak.

Instead of wreaking havoc on his Life-attuned Constitution, the infusion brought about a wave of recovery. Zac gaped at the sight; his understanding of Death directly overturned. Healing a Draugr with a streak of supreme Death would have made sense, but Zac had arrived with his human half. Then again, was it really accurate to call what was happening healing?

As strange as it seemed, the Realmlord’s gift of Death was killing his wounds. And with his injuries dying, only well-being could remain. Having a Life-attuned constitution didn’t play into the equation. The Realmlord had absolute control of what to target and what would happen when he did. Doing so, he’d also given Zac a first-hand look at how Daos behaved at their peak.

Zac had recently begun widening his conception of Life and Death from their narrow focus, and this was one possible destination. The Realmlord’s Dao of Death was focused on the transition to Death. With this Dao, anything could be killed. The Realmlord killed Zac’s wounds to make him whole. He killed movement, and the world was forced to a halt. He’d killed Ogras's state of being awake, making him fall asleep. Later, the Realmlord could kill the demon’s dreams to wake him up.

Despite being the Dao of Death at its peak, it was completely different from the Abyssal Lake’s conception. The undead knight’s Dao gave Zac a sense of freedom compared to the suffocating yet welcoming finality he’d seen in the lake’s pitch-black depths. Zac could picture himself swinging [Black Death], imparting true Death to all hindrances blocking his goals.

Zac quickly reined in the fantasy before his path was subverted. There was nothing wrong with taking inspiration from a master at the peak, but it needed to be a controlled process. Zac refocused on the wisps of Death in his body. It only needed a second to fix all his wounds, and it seemed to be waiting for something.

The knight’s intention soon became clear. Zac’s bloodline came alive, triggering a sweeping wave of pain. The [Eclipse Twin]’s energy was once more trying to find a way out of his body. Zac didn’t try to keep the mayhem under check. He opened the gates in the depths of his cells as far as he could to give the C-grade Void Energy an outlet.

None of it got the chance to wreak havoc on Zac’s system. The Void Energy died the moment it escaped. Truthfully, Zac wasn’t sure if the concept of killing worked on the Void, but the effect was the same. The wisps of Death left to guard the exits were two grades higher than the [Eclipse Twin], and there was only one outcome when the two sides collided. The Void disappeared, causing so little damage that Zac couldn’t spot the difference.

Soon enough, the unbearable pressure was gone, and Zac quickly sealed his bloodline before the rest escaped. After all, a deadly poison could become a cure when used in the right quantity. Zac estimated a fifth of the absorbed Void Energy was left inside. That much should be manageable when spread out across the huge space hidden within his bloodline, allowing him to slowly refine and make it his own.

Throughout the process, the Realmlord appeared disinterested. Zac still bowed in gratitude. “Thank you for your lifesaving grace, Lord. Do you have any instructions for me?”

Lifesaving might be stretching it, but dealing with his internal problems would have come at a cost. Zac had fully expected having to sacrifice most of his body to expel the trapped energies in one go. Surviving with just a head wasn’t a big deal—he had multiple ways to regrow his body. However, his foundations would definitely have taken a hit, and he would have been forced to stay low for a month or two to recuperate.

Zac also understood the help came with strings attached. Kator had refused to share any real information about the Eight Hells. One of the few things he mentioned was that the Realmlords were extremely xenophobic, denying even the Undead Empire entry to their domain. There was no way such a strict ruler would hurry over and heal a stranger out of the kindness in his heart.

“Peakmender, Karma binds us. You entered my realm carrying echoes of my future. A distant dream’s gift shall be reciprocated in truth,” the Realmlord said, finally turning toward Zac. “This memory shall die and reincarnate with my true self.”

Zac didn't know whether he should be relieved or worried by the revelation. The waves in his heart only grew as the remnant pieces of supreme Death spread through his body and joined into the outline of an eye. It flickered a moment before disappearing, but Zac could feel something had changed. The Threaded Hell no longer seemed as threatening.

“My benediction will grant you entry to the Nine Gardens and eight of the Hells. As for the ninth… I cannot say,” the knight said as he turned toward the coffin.

“Wait,” Zac urgently said, realizing he was about to become part of a temporal paradox. His future self had entered a memory of the past, and the exchange would somehow be transmitted to the Lord of the Threaded Hell before Zac first entered the place in the Imperial Graveyard. He couldn’t see this ending any other way than him being ripped apart by the temporal backlash.

“I’m only a Hegemon, and I’m already marked by the River of Time! If I’m involved in changing the past—”

“Causality remains intact,” the knight said. “Make no mistake, Peakmender. Our Fates were entwined before you met my future self. I believe I sought you out because of that connection.”

“What?” Zac whispered.

“We’ll look forward to your return, but do not be in a hurry to seek us out. Your future is distant, and the Eighteen are entering troubled times. The one you met before is… incomplete, and I fear my siblings are the same. My intervention might not be enough.”

The forced halt on the world was weakening, and the Fifth Pillar’s aura returned. Zac knew he was about to be ejected like with the previous realms.

“Wait, what do you mean? When did we meet?”

“Don’t become like us,” the knight said as his body collapsed into countless threads. “That man’s ambitions are too grand, and we are moths to its flame.”

Kālasūtra shattered, and they were back in the world of a thousand windows. Ogras, who’d slept through the whole thing, woke up with a start. He didn’t even seem to realize he’d been put to sleep. He was about to jump into another window, only stopping upon noticing the drastic change in Zac’s appearance. He’d essentially gone from a burnt-out husk at death’s door to the picture of health.

“What the hell, what happened to you?!” Ogras blurted.

Despite the lingering dangers, Zac couldn’t help laughing at the choice of words. “Hell, huh? You don’t remember?”

“Remember what? I’ve been focused on finding a way out.”

“That’s… We’ll talk later,” Zac said. “I was about to ask. Is there a method to your madness, or are you picking them at random?”

“Don’t you feel it?” Ogras said with surprise.

“Feel what?”

“I don’t know how to explain it. Fate? The place where I’m supposed to be,” Ogras said, having trouble putting the feeling into words.

“I can’t feel anything,” Zac truthfully said. “But I don’t have any better idea, and the Pillar’s aura is getting weaker. I’ll rely on you, then.“

“Leave it to me.” Ogras slapped his chest before turning into a stream of shadows.

They resumed their escape. This time, Zac was filled with questions instead of rampaging energies. The prospect of running into another old monster also made Zac’s heart leap out of his throat every time Ogras dragged him into an unfamiliar world. Thankfully, their brief incursions didn’t cause any new waves, and Ogras was soon proven right.

The Fifth Pillar’s overwhelming presence grew more indistinct with every jump until they found a window picturing a sea of familiar azure. It was the churning mists filling the Dipper Mountain’s crater. They dove inside with the desperation of the shipwrecked spotting land. There was no sense of rejection, and the hall of windows didn’t try to pull them back. They’d returned to where they should be.