Chapter 139: New Paths

Thorwald and his group, who had managed to reach the fifth stage, were enduring a grueling ordeal. The situation was challenging but arguably better than Steven’s, as it seemed some vampires around him had been teleported away at the very moment the chaos erupted.

Thankfully, the vampires hadn’t realized Thorwald's group had abandoned the battlefield early. Their departure had been calculated, a precaution taken to avoid unnecessary risks. Now, after days of trekking through the dense jungle, they had stumbled upon an unexpected sight—a saltwater lake, shimmering in the sunlight and stretching for miles, despite no nearby ocean to account for its presence. 

Joe, their scout, soared high above the treetops to survey the surroundings, only to confirm their suspicions: no oceans, no rivers leading into the lake. It was baffling, its vastness defying logic—over twenty kilometers wide, and its depths dropping steeply mere meters from the shore.

The group decided to make camp near the lake, hoping to spot beasts coming to drink, but the area seemed eerily lifeless. Days passed, yet not a single creature approached the water. Perhaps it was the saltwater, or perhaps the beasts instinctively knew something the group didn’t. Fish darted beneath the surface but vanished the moment anyone tried to get close. 

Frustrated and restless, they ventured further, skirmishing with groups of hostile monkeys that lurked in the jungle canopy. But compared to the chaos of earlier stages, the challenges here were sparse, almost unnerving. 

The true surprise came when they stumbled upon a hidden city nestled deep within the forest’s shadows. Before they could investigate further, disaster struck—over twenty towering figures materialized around them, trapping them within a runic cage that hummed with power. 

The attackers were humanoid but undeniably alien—standing a head taller than any man, their muscular builds supported four arms, and their skin bore an unsettling mix of olive green and brown. Runic tattoos snaked across their foreheads and necks, glowing faintly in the dim light.

Thorwald stepped forward, his voice laced with anger as he addressed their captors.

“Who are you people? The system didn’t mention a race like yours among the four integrated planets,” he demanded, his frustration mounting. Thorwald hated losing control, and the situation was slipping from his grasp.

One of the creatures, clearly the leader, stepped closer. Its two pupils within each eye gleamed with intelligence and otherworldly cunning. It smiled faintly, but there was no warmth in its expression—only calculation.
“You are blessed by a god, are you not? Tell me, which god favors you?”

Thorwald puffed out his chest, his tone defiant.
“It is the great Solarion, the Blazing Emperor,” he declared, his voice booming with pride.

The leader’s expression didn’t change, but a few of the other creatures exchanged amused glances. A low chuckle rippled through the group, setting Thorwald’s teeth on edge.
“Solarion, the Blazing Emperor, blessed you?” the creature repeated, skepticism dripping from every word.

Thorwald’s fury ignited.
“Of course he did! Why wouldn’t he bless someone with my potential?” He roared, his aura flaring in an attempt to assert dominance.

The leader tilted its head, unimpressed.
“Then tell us,” it said, its tone almost mocking, “what mighty blessing did the Blazing Emperor bestow upon you?”

Thorwald glared at the creature, his frustration boiling over.
“I was granted a legendary blessing! You should bow before me!” he bellowed, his energy surging outward.

The creatures burst into laughter, the sound grating against Thorwald’s pride. His aura flared again, but it did little to shake their confidence. The leader’s voice turned cold, all amusement gone.
“Enough. If you are truly blessed by Solarion, prove it. Remove your armor and weapons, place them in your spatial ring, and hand it to us.”

Thorwald froze, disbelief washing over him. Yet the creatures' power was undeniable—they were all over level 90, and resistance was futile. Slowly, reluctantly, he complied, feeling his pride crumble as he stood in simple robes, his prized armor and axe now in the leader’s possession.

The leader studied the armor closely.
“This is indeed the craftsmanship of the Solar Empire,” it muttered, its tone sharp and analytical. “So you truly are blessed by one of the many gods. Now, tell me—who is it?”

Thorwald hesitated, his fury battling his fear. Before he could respond, Joe stepped forward, his voice steady despite the tension.
“Thorwald is a strong leader, blessed by Solarion himself with a legendary blessing. You shouldn’t underestimate him.”

The leader’s piercing gaze shifted between Thorwald and Joe. Slowly, the oppressive killing intent in the air grew heavier. With a curt motion, it signaled to another creature, who stepped forward, holding a spear.
“Prove it,” the leader commanded. “Baptize this warrior with the power of Solarion.”

Thorwald’s heart sank, but he had no choice. Channeling his energy, his hand glowed with brilliant white light, illuminating the space as he invoked the path of the Blazing Empire. The spear-wielding creature gasped, dropping its weapon in shock.
“He speaks the truth,” the warrior stammered, awe evident in its voice. “He is blessed by Solarion.”

A ripple of murmurs spread through the group, their earlier arrogance replaced by disbelief. The leader’s expression shifted, finally showing respect.
“We apologize for our rude welcome,” it said, bowing slightly. “We are the Raha, and we are at your service.” It extended Thorwald’s spatial ring back to him.

Thorwald smirked, retrieving his belongings. This was more to his liking. With his confidence restored, he stood tall, the Raha now his subordinates.

Thorwald savored the shift in dynamics. The Raha now stood deferentially before him, their earlier bravado extinguished. He slipped the spatial ring back onto his finger with deliberate ease, allowing himself a faint, victorious smile.

“Good,” he said, his voice firm but laced with satisfaction. “You’ve proven yourselves to be reasonable. Tell me, what is a race like yours doing in this stage?”

The leader straightened, his imposing frame seeming less threatening now that submission had replaced hostility.
“We are here to prepare,” he replied cryptically, his tone measured.

“Prepare for what?” Thorwald pressed, his patience wearing thin.

The Raha leader hesitated, his dual-pupil eyes flickering with something akin to caution.
“The trials ahead,” he said finally. “This world is but a proving ground, as you must know. But not all beings who walk these lands were sent here under the same... circumstances.”

Thorwald narrowed his eyes, his hand instinctively resting on the hilt of his axe. He could sense there was more to this story, something layered beneath the leader’s words.
“Speak plainly,” he demanded.

The leader sighed, glancing at his companions. A few nodded subtly, their expressions unreadable.
“We are remnants of a shattered world, cast into this one when our home was consumed by the tides of chaos. The system gave us a second chance. A special quest that allowed the winner to grow in the tutorial and be integrated in the new universe."

The revelation hit Thorwald like a hammer blow. He took a step closer, his voice lowering.
“And why attack me, knowing what I represent?”

The leader met Thorwald’s gaze, unflinching.
“We are here to hopefully find someone with a high blessing. Joining a god's faction is one of the most important things in the multiverse."

<--

Meanwhile, in another part of the jungle, Chloe and the others continued their hunt. The dense foliage whispered around them as they pressed deeper into the wilds, their steps cautious but determined.

“Are we deserters now?” Chloe asked, her voice tinged with guilt.

Evelyn shrugged, her attention more on the surroundings than the question.
“Kind of. But I don’t think Kael will see it that way,” she said dismissively, her tone betraying a lack of concern. Her focus was singular—getting stronger, no matter the cost.

“Kargul doesn’t care,” the orc rumbled, his deep voice like distant thunder. “Kael and the others betrayed Thalion. We hunt beasts, grow stronger, and crush the undead in the next stage.”

The group fell silent for a moment, their unspoken agreement hanging heavy in the air. Eddie broke the quiet, his voice hopeful.
“We really need a good flying form. It’d make scouting so much easier for Jack and Josh.”

Kargul nodded, his massive form shifting as he scanned the treetops.
“We’ll find a bird strong enough. No beast is beyond us.”

The problem wasn’t the lack of birds—they’d seen plenty. But most were too small to be useful, and the turtle that traveled with them had a habit of swallowing potential specimens whole before anyone could intervene.

Chloe frowned, finally piecing together Kargul’s earlier words.
“Wait—you said Kael, Sylas, and Kai betrayed Thalion? How do you know?”

Evelyn’s sharp gaze snapped to Chloe.
“We don’t have proof, but there were lies. Too many for it to be coincidence.” Her voice turned cold. “Why does that surprise you? You were with Kael when he hunted Thalion, weren’t you?”

Chloe hesitated, the weight of her actions pressing down on her.
“Well, yes, but... Thalion saved us. There was a swarm of giant squids, and he—”

“Saved you?” Evelyn cut in, incredulous. “Thalion doesn’t run.” Her voice was sharp, demanding. “What did he tell you about Kael and the others?”

Chloe faltered, her gaze dropping. She hadn’t expected this interrogation.
“He said they wanted to kill him for some item he bought in the system shop. That’s all I know

"Ha, so they really did try to go after him," Evelyn muttered, her voice tinged with disappointment. The weight of betrayal sat heavy on her chest. "Probably for the best that we left," she added, though the words felt hollow.

How could she not have seen it coming? She had trusted Kael, Kai, and Sylas. Sylas, of all people—always kind, always willing to lend a hand. The memories of their camaraderie stung now. They had spent countless hours in Kael's chambers, laughing, drinking, sharing stories—especially after Thalion brought Vorlok into their fold. Evelyn shook her head, trying to banish the thought. The bond they'd shared now felt like a cruel joke.

Good thing she'd changed. She wasn’t the same trusting girl anymore. If Kael and the others came after her—and that was very likely—she could protect herself and her new family. They wouldn’t catch her off guard again. She clenched her fists, a surge of energy flowing through her veins.

The Spiderqueen’s blessing had made sure of that. Most might hesitate before striking a deal with a goddess of such cunning and infamy, but Evelyn saw only opportunity. Where others saw webs of deceit, she saw power and potential. The skills the Spiderqueen had granted her weren’t just potent—they were transformative. Even without extensive practice, the blessing’s high rarity allowed her to commune with her patron four times a week, strengthening their bond each time.

The Spiderqueen’s voice was so unlike her former patron’s—warm, rich, and filled with genuine amusement. She’d even laughed when Evelyn shared stories about Vorlok’s insatiable appetite, something no god before had done. Their conversations were enlightening, ranging from tales of the eternal wars among gods to fragments of the Spiderqueen’s own youth. Each exchange was a dance of intellect, and with every word, Evelyn felt their connection deepen.

One story in particular lingered in Evelyn’s mind. The Spiderqueen had spoken with wry amusement of Ankhet, a being over whom other gods were apparently losing their minds. They either wanted him dead or sought to recruit him to their factions. Evelyn had asked why the Spiderqueen wasn’t interested in Ankhet, and her patron had laughed—a rich, knowing sound that sent shivers down Evelyn’s spine.

“Secrets? He has nothing I need,” the Spiderqueen had said dismissively, her many eyes glinting in the void. “Ankhet may be ancient, but I’ve spun my webs across eternity. Compared to me, even he is but a fledgling.”

The Spiderqueen's confidence was infectious, but it also made Evelyn think. If Ankhet wasn’t important to her patron, why were other gods so obsessed with him? The answer lay shrouded in mystery, but one thing was clear—few truly understood the power of the gods before the apocalypse.

Amun-Ra was often whispered of as the most powerful god to have ever existed, but the Spiderqueen dismissed such claims as the ramblings of fools. Yes, his ruins were formidable, but they were too few and far between to justify such exaggerated reverence. If he’d been so all-powerful, why had the other three gods of his era survived? The Spiderqueen urged caution, warning against drawing premature conclusions with so little evidence—a sentiment Evelyn wholeheartedly agreed with.

Their conversations weren’t just philosophical—they were practical, too. The Spiderqueen excelled at mental warfare, a domain Evelyn’s previous patron had all but ignored. With every lesson, Evelyn grew sharper, more patient, more attuned to the art of manipulation. Patience was her greatest challenge. Waiting, holding back—it went against her every instinct.

Now, she had the power to destroy the witch who had slaughtered her family. Every fiber of her being screamed for revenge. She wanted to charge into the night, hunt the woman down, and end her life in a blaze of glory. But the Spiderqueen whispered restraint, urging her to conceal her strength, to play the long game.

“Your enemies must never know what you are capable of,” the Spiderqueen had said, her voice silken and firm. “Strike when they least expect it, and leave no witnesses. The shadows will become your greatest ally.”

Evelyn nodded to herself, determination hardening her resolve. It wasn’t easy to stay her hand, but she understood the wisdom in her patron’s words. Someday, she would make her move. And when she did, the witch would never see it coming.