Tunde found himself at the walls of Black Rock Proper, staring over the shattered and desolate landscape before him. In his immediate vicinity, pockets of broken and scorched earth stretched into the distance. Broken bodies, mostly those of Corespawns and true beasts, littered the landscape, and melted slags of weapons, both imbued and crude, lay strewn about, too damaged to be of any use.

  Scavengers, lowly initiates, and disciples picked through the rubble of destruction, searching for useful items among the dead. The bodies of their own cultivators had been retrieved; no doubt laid to rest somewhere within Black Rock. Tunde found it odd that Black Rock had grown so much that he could hardly claim to know every nook and cranny of the sect settlement.

  The Black Rock Sect had ascended; they were now an outer sect of the Talahan Clan itself. A subtle distinction that would undoubtedly attract attention and, in small amounts, muted protests. Behind him, he saw two banners flying, as he had numerous times while traversing Black Rock. The first bore a black cloud with white lightning bolts, the crest of Clan Talahan. The second depicted a black rock floating amidst a white cloud, the crest of the Black Rock Sect, now a legitimate outer sect of the imperial clan itself. To say Black Rock could stand up to the other lesser sects would be laughable, seeing as they had no Highlord to their name.

  With the protection of the imperial clan, few, if any, sects or clans would dare to sabotage them outright. Still, Tunde stared at the banners for a while longer, silent and brooding, before turning his gaze back to the scene in front of him. In the farthest corners of his vision, he saw crystals glittering in the sun, shimmering like mirages, and he sighed.

  Thorne, Elyria, and now Miria. All those he had forged deep, significant bonds with had vanished, one at a time. He was one of the few left from the time of Jade Peak, a remnant of a bygone era, and Tunde found himself itching to leave this place to those whose roots ran far deeper than his ever had.

  They were in safe hands, though: Ryka, Isolde, Harun, even Draven. They would be the bedrocks of this sect, while he would merely be a figure in the shadows, keeping watch from a distance, ensuring Joran’s legacy didn’t end up a smoldering pile of ash as Jade Peak had become. He hadn’t brought up the topic with them yet, leaving the stronghold immediately after his discussion with the imperial siblings and heading for the walls.

  Tunde could feel the inquisitive gazes of the disciples and their adept commanders on him all around the walls, staring at him with what he could only describe as awe. He paid them no mind, also ignoring the constant flashing of the screen at the far corner of his eyes. It had grown in urgency; where it had previously been a single flash now and then, it had become an almost constant irritant. Leaping off the walls, Tunde landed amidst the scavengers, startling them for a second before they bowed at his presence.

  A single nod at them and he was off, shooting towards the distance and the shimmering crystalline structures. Where once there had been sand and dust, the ground had grown docile, patches of water seeping from beneath its surface, wetting the sands and giving it an almost

  muddy look. The wastelands were changing right before their eyes, a result of three masters turning it into their playground.

  Hot wind in his face, Tunde found his body brimming with raw Ethra, and his essence flame, a power he wasn’t yet accustomed to, wrapped around his muscles within. He was a gust of wind across the landscape, no signs of the usual creatures of the wastelands, not even the Sandshards that had previously littered everywhere.

  It was as if the wastelands had expended all its anger and malevolence, somehow returning to a calm state. Tunde arrived at the gem structures jutting out of the ground all around. They shimmered light green and white in the burning sun, filled with crystal clear Ethra despite the subtle power of the Jade Tyrant he could feel within them.

  Tunde wondered why Ryka hadn’t sent anyone out to start harvesting them, as they appeared pure and valuable. He touched one, feeling the raw power within as his eyes widened. They could be comparable to Highlord-level Ethra within each structure, a truly valuable item. Imbuing his hand, Tunde applied more pressure to his limbs, cracking one and breaking off a chunk before staring at the glowing white item in his hand.

  A shuffling noise deeper within the forest of crystals drew Tunde’s attention. Switching on Ethra Sight, he watched as a crystalline serpentine form uncurled itself from a pillar of crystal, facing his direction. Curious about its presence, Tunde began walking towards it. The creature reared back, attempting to strike. One imbued step and Tunde was in front of it, grabbing its crystalline neck and slamming it into the crystal bedrock, stunning the creature.

  Its glowing green eyes dimmed, its body curled tightly around Tunde as if attempting to constrict him and break his bones. With an almost laughable flex of his body, his aura pushed it away before Tunde clenched his hand around the creature’s neck, shattering its frame. It broke like glass, turning immediately into Ethra all around him even as Tunde flicked his hand with a frown.

  He hadn’t encountered anything like that in all his time in the wastelands, despite how few they were. Were the crystal structures creating more creatures, more Ethralites from the dead Ethra of the Tyrant? Speaking of which, Tunde finally turned his attention to the screen, willing it out. Nothing appeared in front of him. Instead, Tunde watched as a vortex of dark grey Ethra spilled out of him, not from his core but sucking from his essence flame itself, draining it a bit.

  Startled, he was on his guard as he watched a human form take shape from his Ethra and essence flame. No distinguishable features, simply an outline of a human, floating directly in front of him. The figure sighed, speaking in a baritone voice, "I wondered when your obstination would end," it said, a coy smile on its face, or at least, Tunde thought it was a smile given the lack of facial features.

  "What are you?" Tunde asked, summoning the Fang. The relic blade appeared seamlessly, glittering in its pure black form. The floating being in front of him chuckled.

  "Alana’s Fang. It listens to you now more than ever. Congratulations," it said.

  "You didn’t answer my question," Tunde replied. Had this creature been inside him all this while? Was it what had been the screen, been Ifa?

  "I am simply what I’ve always been, Ifa," it replied, folding its hands behind its body and staring at him eerily. "Although I suppose the borrowed form of whatever that creation of the technocrats had been more approachable for you," the being calling itself Ifa continued. "I apologize. Without the Fang absorbing the majority of the Tyrant’s essence and authority, this form would have been impossible for me to take."

  "You’re saying you weren’t the screen?" Tunde asked, slightly confused.

  "Indeed. That abomination died the moment the structure tethering it to this realm fell. I merely continued to use its framework, if you will, to exist," it replied. "And now that I have enough authority to manifest, this is, in essence, my true form."

  "What are you then?" Tunde asked again, still holding on to the relic blade. The creature sighed.

  "Does this form jar you? Perhaps I should take another form, one more approachable to you," it said, its form shimmering. Tunde’s breath hitched in his throat, blinking rapidly. In front of him, painted in dark grey, was the form of Elder Joran, smiling at him with that same all-knowing smile he always had.

  "Although I must say that adding a blindfold when I can see just fine seems most—"

  "Stop," Tunde choked, holding back the emotions welling up within him, strangling them until he shuddered from the repressed feelings. Ifa’s smile vanished.

  "I apologize," it said softly. "I shall refrain from using this form—" it paused as Tunde raised a palm.

  He turned his gaze to the skies, hoping the hot sun would dry the tears threatening to fall. They fell all the same, and he shuddered again. How long had it been since Joran died? Had he even had the time to mourn him properly, like a true acolyte or student should? Instead, it had been one battle after another, his emotions translated into combat.

  "No," he whispered, wiping his eyes with his robes. "No, you can take it," he finished.

  Ifa remained silent, still staring at him as Tunde gave it his full attention.

  "I am Ifa," it started. "I am the remnant of what had once been the Abyssal Walkers, the Scions of the Hegemon of Rifts," it said, as Tunde frowned.

  "The Hegemon of Rifts?" he asked.

  Ifa nodded. "No doubt, you know who and where you come from," it said, as Tunde nodded slightly. "There are things too delicate for me to speak to you about," Ifa said, raising a palm to halt Tunde, who was about to give an angry retort. "I apologize, young one, but I understand your frustrations and I applaud your resilience. It takes sacrifice to reach where you are, but I must say that even those aren’t enough. Not yet, not with the gravity of what is at stake."

  Tunde gritted his teeth, the creature continuing. "As you know, we were betrayed, a betrayal stemming from jealousy, a jealousy that we held the true paths in and out of Adamath," Ifa continued. Tunde said nothing, merely listening. "And we were brought down," it continued, "an effort that, as you well know, took the combined might of all the other followers of the other hegemons, a battle that forever scarred Adamath."

  "You were saying something about rifts," Tunde interjected.

  Ifa nodded. "I'll get to that," it replied, placating Tunde just a bit. "The regent then had only one choice: to spread out what remained of the descendants of the great hegemon. Scatter them like dust to the far corners of Adamath while those loyal to him stayed behind to hold to the last."

  Ifa pointed a finger at him. "You are a descendant of one of them. Those who stayed behind, those who wouldn’t and couldn’t imagine themselves in a foreign land, paid the price for it." Tunde found himself immune to the anger he supposed he was expecting to feel, merely watching the sentient form.

  "But even they couldn’t be trusted with the relics of the hegemon, what little they were that hadn’t been destroyed. And for that reason, they were left in the possession of those who fled, ensuring our enemies couldn’t and wouldn’t lay their hands on them," it explained.

  Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

  "And yet, an artificer claimed one," Tunde replied, and the creature inclined its head.

  "Perhaps a working of fate," it said, pondering. "It is indeed curious that the one item, imbued with the consciousness of the last arcanist—or rune reader, as they were known then—entered the possession of the technocrats, finding its way to the last pure-blooded of Alana’s line."

  Tunde had no candid reply to that, merely watching as Ifa shook his head. "Either way, Alana’s Fang has come back to its rightful owner," it said. Tunde stared at the black blade before sitting on the cool crystal ground.

  "So what now?" he asked.

  Ifa shrugged, a smile on Joran’s face. "That is left to you, Tunde," it said. "Taking back what was once ours is still a long way off. Right now, we can only see you get stronger, strong enough to go back home and raise the banner of the Walkers once again."

  "We were once the bridge between Adamath and the countless realms in reality," it said.

  Tunde blinked at that. "And our world as well?"

  "At one point, yes, but something even I don’t know caused us all to find other worlds in the infinite void of time and space," Ifa said before shaking its head. "Enough of that. There will be time for us to discuss that, but I believe you asked about the rifts?" it said as Tunde nodded.

  "True to our name, we walked the rifts. It was where we felt most at home. As the Heralds of Baelthor found battle home, and the artificers found theirs in tinkering with metals," Ifa explained.

  "You’re saying we lived within rifts?" Tunde asked.

  "No, but back then, they were simply known as paths, the power to walk between great distances and, in essence, realms," Ifa explained. "Realms that belonged to beings far superior to humans, races we locked away."

  "Beings?" Tunde asked.

  "The Sky kings known as dragons, the Sangrevoirs of the Red River Realm, the list goes on. But again, this is not the time for them," Ifa said as Tunde tsked. It smiled despite Tunde’s displeasure, continuing, "When they came for us, they came with the aim to take the authority of realms. The hegemon had no choice but to seal away these realms," Ifa said.

  "Why?" Tunde asked. "What part did these beings play in the betrayal?"

  "Nothing, except their entry into Adamath had been closely monitored by us. Some were realms of such peace and tranquility, like the Elysian Heights of the Ascended Ones, while others were realms of malevolent beings known as the Asuras," Ifa said.

  Tunde frowned. "Asuras?" he asked.

  Ifa shook its head. "No, not those Asuras who exist now. They probably took the name without knowing what it truly meant, or maybe their lore has been lost to time, as it should well be," Ifa replied. Tunde noted that piece of information for later. "With the realms sealed, pieces of what they were began to leak between the paths. These pieces gained sentience, creating entire smaller, temporary realms within these paths," Ifa said.

  "Rifts," Tunde said with realization. The being wearing Joran’s form nodded.

  "Rifts are merely shadows of these realms, places of pure power hoping to corrupt Adamath itself, their denizens no doubt looking for ways back into Adamath," Ifa said. "For countless centuries, they have hunted for the remnants of our people, each faction hiding what they knew close to their chests."

  "That's impossible," Tunde said with a frown. "I’ve met the Heralds, and none of them seemed to know who I am."

  "Their knowledge of their acolytes are fragmented, their acolytes I believe, left in the dark" Ifa replied. "The passage of time and the deliberate erasure of history have rendered the people of Adamath ignorant of the true origins of this realm,” Ifa explained

  “Therefore they are nothing but remnants of a forgotten legacy, much like your current self, though less fortunate in their awareness. Each faction has clung to scraps of knowledge, each believing themselves unique in their understanding. You, Tunde, hold the potential to unite these fractured pieces, to reclaim what was lost, but it will require more strength, more sacrifice, and a deeper understanding of who you are and where you come from." Ifa finished.

  Tunde rubbed his face, speaking, "Borus, the artificer, claimed that the moment I awakened the relic, they would know where I am."

  "True, that is, assuming I hadn’t been siphoning the authority of the relic," Ifa said with a coy smile.

  Tunde blinked at the sentience. "Was that why it constantly drained my Ethra and aura, even my essence flame?" he asked.

  "In part," Ifa replied. "The relic was created from a piece of the hegemon’s physical form. It was meant for a cultivator of higher advancement, not a mere adept or lord."

  "How high?" Tunde asked, staring at the blade before willing it away.

  "It was the weapon of a regent, Tunde, capable of terrible things," Ifa replied, staring at the tattooed manacle on Tunde’s hand.

  Tunde wondered just what things Ifa knew that was so powerful, he couldn’t tell him now. "You said you were an arcanist," Tunde asked as Ifa nodded.

  "Yes," Ifa replied. "One of the few ones in our sect then, I daresay one of the best of my time and now, assuming the arcanists still exist."

  There was little Tunde knew of the organization known as the arcanists, so he merely nodded.

  "I was one of Alana’s advisers," Ifa said with a forlorn smile. "I was his eyes in the depths of the realms, and even I couldn’t see the betrayal coming," Ifa said with a wistful voice, as if memories of lost times had come crashing back.

  It shook its head before continuing, "But I shall make amends a thousand times over," it said, "starting with building you a better body."

  Tunde stared curiously. "What do you mean?" he asked.

  Ifa hesitated, as if unsure how to say it. "That you’re alive today has been an enormous amount of luck with your encounter with Joran and Varis," it said. "And as much as they tried their best to forge you into something worthwhile, a child of the Walker has a different path to tread."

  "Your body tempering is powerful indeed, strong enough to withstand the blows of even Highlords, but it cannot and has not been able to wield the true power of the cosmic concept," Ifa said.

  "Cosmic concept?" Tunde asked, feeling a headache coming. "No, I have a cosmic affinity and a force affinity," Tunde corrected.

  Ifa chuckled. "And improve your knowledge, I believe," it said. "The affinities of the hegemons were concepts unto themselves. To call them affinities would be a great insult."

  "Take the Heralds, for example. Their concept is that of battle. They simply find their affinities to further strengthen their concepts, becoming powers in themselves," Ifa explained.

  "So you’re saying the concept of the imperial clan—"

  "Inconsequential, trivial even," Ifa said with a dismissive wave of its hand.

  Tunde glanced around to ensure Varis hadn’t heard that. "Greater concepts are the concepts of the hegemons. They hold supreme authority over Adamath and represent a core law of reality of the realm," Ifa said. "Then again, when you get stronger, we will revisit this conversation," it added, much to Tunde’s irritation.

  "You were saying something about my body?" he asked through gritted teeth.

  "Patience, young one," Ifa replied. "But yes, while your body has been forged and reforged for combat, it has not been made for the authority of your true concept."

  "My true concept?" Tunde echoed, shaking his head. "This is too much for me all at once," he said. "First, it was that a remnant of a... what stage were you?" he asked Ifa.

  "Paragon as at the time of my death," Ifa said.

  "Paragon," Tunde echoed again, wondering if he was dreaming.

  Ifa chuckled. "You are right, you’ll need time to take in everything. We can continue at a later time," it said as Tunde nodded calmly.

  “What can’t wait though, are these,” Ifa said as another vortex opened beside it, a punch driving through the fabric of reality, spilling out objects that fell in front of Tunde. “At the point of the Tyrant’s death, I was able to steal its authority and everything under that authority through its link with you,” Ifa said.

  “How?” Tunde breathed, staring at the heap of treasures before him. Large glowing crystals, some bearing odd inscriptions, lumens brimming with raw Ethra, and even elixirs he had no knowledge of but that gave off raw power.

  “Arcanist, remember? There’s a reason people hardly offend them,” Ifa said with a laugh. Tunde’s eyes were drawn to two items. “The Grand Ethralite unknowingly has granted us boons with its death,” Ifa said with grudging respect. “A heart of jade,” it added, pointing to an oval crystal that glowed as if a fire burned from within.

  “The very core of the Tyrant, preserved at the moment of death, or rather, stolen in our case,” Ifa said, as Tunde did a double take.

  “How do you steal a core from within a being?” he asked, confused.

  “The same way I stole most of its Ethra, aura, and even essence flame,” Ifa replied. “They were barely enough, so I took its core. Not that it needed it, seeing as it was about to die anyway,” Ifa said dismissively.

  Tunde found himself cautiously respecting the sentience, keeping quiet as he stared at the heart. He picked it up, feeling the raw power within it. “What do I use it for?” he asked.

  “Normally, alchemists use it to strengthen the cores of their clients who manage to get one,” Ifa said. “But again, seeing as your core has advanced to the grade of a peak lord, it is wasted on you until you advance to Highlord.”

  Tunde paused, staring mutely at Ifa before closing his eyes and delving within himself, pausing as the shocking facts revealed themselves. Why hadn’t he noticed? His core shone bright, brimming with Lord Realm Ethra. His Ethra heart pulsed with raw power, beating with the strength of peak grade, and his aura burned with the power of a Peak Lord Realm cultivator.

  It was his essence flame that surprised him the most, manifesting as dark grey burning fire in his palms. It was cold to the touch, licking his open palm carelessly as he stared into it.

  “Congratulations are in order,” Ifa said as Tunde stared at the being through the flames, a smile on its face. “Your essence flame has attained the rank of Blaze, the realm of Highlords,” Ifa said.

  Tunde clenched his fist, snuffing out the flames with a broad smile. “Thank you,” he said, staring at Ifa, the sentience wearing the face of Joran. Ifa cocked its head, understanding in its features. Tunde bowed where he sat, eyes clenched tight, fighting back the tears in his eyes even as they fell nonetheless.

  He shuddered, wiping his eyes again, taking a deep breath as he sent the heart through into his void ring. “Perhaps, when the time comes and we meet a true alchemist worth their salt, it will be put to great use,” Ifa said as Tunde nodded. The other significant treasure among the piles of raw wealth before him was an ovoid jade egg.

  "Wait!" Ifa said, halting Tunde as he stretched his hand out to touch it. Tunde glanced at Ifa, the sentience pointing at the egg.

  "That is an unborn Ethralite," it said, and Tunde recoiled in shock. "Within that is the offspring of the Tyrant, nurtured and no doubt kept in stasis by the Tyrant," it continued.

  "Then we destroy it?" Tunde asked, as Ifa scratched its beard, an eerie action once done by Joran when he was still alive.

  "Perhaps," Ifa replied, "or perhaps you bond with it."

  "Bond with it?" Tunde asked, puzzled.

  "Indeed, some cultivators bond with creatures, at least, back when I lived," Ifa replied. "Assuming, of course, the Tyrant hadn’t bonded with it," it cautioned.

  The sentience ran a hand over it, nodding to itself. "It did not, a costly mistake for it and a boon for you," Ifa said.

  "What will bonding with it entail?" Tunde asked.

  Ifa shrugged. "The effects are varied. Some gain a natural ability of their bonded; the creature gets to use the concept of its bonded in turn," Ifa explained. "Some, I’ve heard of, share the lifeline of their bonded, or their bloodline inherits something related to the creature, some boon. I honestly cannot say what would come with bonding with an Ethralite, though," Ifa said.

  Tunde turned his gaze to the dark green shell, pondering lightly as he stared at it. "What are the risks?" he asked. While the benefits did seem enticing, Tunde knew better than to assume it would come without risks.

  "A good question," Ifa replied. "Your soul would be bare to the creature. Bonding goes beyond the crude contracts with random creatures; it is, in essence, opening yourself up to the creature," Ifa explained.

  Tunde turned his gaze again to the shell in silence. He stared at it for a few seconds before speaking. "All in all, I get stronger?" he asked.

  "Indeed," Ifa replied.

  "Then I will bond with it," he said, as Ifa clapped its hands together.

  "Good. Manifest your essence flame," it commanded.

  Tunde did so, the dark grey fire burning in his palm as Ifa spoke. "Now put it over the egg," it said.

  As Tunde did so, he felt the egg draw on it, consuming the flames much to his surprise. The once dark green shell now had an even darker hue, Ifa nodding. "Next is your blood, just a drop infused with your Ethra and aura," it said.

  Cutting himself was even harder. Tunde resorted to using the relic as he infused the droplets of blood with his Ethra and aura as well. Again, the shell absorbed it, this time glowing from within. He felt something within him connect with a tiny presence, almost indistinguishable from his subconscious.

  It felt like a tiny, childlike presence, a disconnection of tiny random feelings coming together at the back of his mind. Tunde glanced at Ifa, who nodded. "Any moment now," it said just as a crack came from the shell, drawing their attention. Tunde saw the crack extend all across its body before shattering in two, revealing a tiny form staring up at him with beady black eyes.