Zenith Online: Rebirth of the Strongest Player

Chapter 631: Worrisome Schism



Standing over the heap of dark sand, Kieran chest and fell with ragged breaths. The Dread Circlet continued to spin with his body serving as the axis. Its slow revolutions produced several sporadic arcs of dreadful, destructive, and volatile discharge.

Those surges of awful power kept the others away from him.

He stood with his eyes closed, attempting to manage the voices in his head that grew louder, more sinister, and more compelling. What would happen when the curse grew too powerful? Could he lose himself to Carnage and become nothing more than its mindless thrall?

The grim thought passed his mind again, causing him to frown and sigh while holding his hand above the collapsed pile of sand and jewels. It was the corpse of the Sentinel which decayed immediately.

That generally didn't happen until the corpse was looted of its value, which Kieran found incredibly strange. Maybe the others felt the same, however, they were too busy shooting Altair and Kieran, equally horrified and amazed looks.

"Dude..." Nemean whispered some feet away. "Wasn't the monster like pushing the 60s? Wouldn't that mean it was no longer a mere Monster but what the Guild calls a Threat?" Bastion looked in his direction and nodded. "Yeah, I felt it when I guarded its attack. It was definitely strong enough to be regarded as a Boss. It reached the standard."

Nemean flashed a rueful look at his twin shield again, and his frown deepened, a dark look growing on his visage. There was no hate on his mind, only self-deprecating thoughts. He had successfully become an Adept, yet his Class remained the same and exhibited zero signs of maturing.

Unlike the others, it maintained its Rare grade, and he was still a Shield Enforcer. Listening to the others recount their Advancing had already left a sour taste in his mouth, but the seeds of envy sown in his mind were blossoming.

"I'm going to be left behind..." Nemean muttered, which Bastion caught and immediately turned toward him.

"What did you say, you damned dumbass?" Bastion snarled. His yelling caught everyone's attention, but he didn't stop. "No, you goddamn repeat what the hell you just said."

Nemean grimaced, looking away from everyone as Kieran stopped what he was doing and turned toward the commotion. His mix of abyssal black and blood-red eyes fell on the arguing duo before looking at everyone else in question.

He earned shrugs, forcing him to speak up.

"What are you two arguing about now?"

Had it been a standard argument, Kieran wouldn't feel obligated to butt in, but something in the tone of Bastion's felt different - raw and dreadfully angry. He was infuriated with Nemean, which no one in the party had ever witnessed.

"Boss!" Bastion howled, stomping closer to Nemean and waving a finger in his direction. "You won't believe the dumb crap that came out of that accursed mouth of his! He's so damned foolish. He says he will be left behind, like forgotten and everything. Take a look at his sorry ass."

Nemean's face reddened the longer Bastion went on his rant. He seemed regretful for having made any comment while in his best friend's earshot. This was a fury Nemean had never really seen come out of Bastion.

Kieran focused momentarily, reigning in the Dread Circlet until he mustered enough mental focus to shift the ring behind his back in a vertical position.

The inspiration came from watching Hekaina utilize her Supreme Ciphers against Argexes. It required a shocking amount of focus to perform, but at least it was possible, considering it was one of the skills he actively learned instead of having the knowledge burrowed into his mind from the Zenith Frequency itself.

A moment later, Kieran approached Bastion and Nemean, coming to a halt roughly two steps away. He panned his head from side to side, arching a brow.

"You feel as if you're going to be left behind, Nemean?" Kieran asked.

Though reluctant to answer, Nemean nodded with a pursed lip. "It's not a sudden thought. I've been having this feeling-"

"Bullshit," Bastion interjected angrily. "We wouldn't leave you behind. Where is this coming from?"

"Your Classes, man. Everything, really," Nemean shouted back. The dam on his thoughts broke, and everything of concern flowed from his mouth in an endless torrent. By the end, he was shaking his head with a morose look. "I'm already being left behind. Nothing I have is up to par. I'm basically useless."

Kieran listened to everything Nemean had to say, sympathizing with his concerns. He understood where he was coming from, where all the worries and fears had sprouted from. After all, he had reached that point of mental anguish once before.

When bedridden, the first thought that came to mind was simple, and those words verbatim were: everyone else was going to surpass him as he remained stagnant, never growing better. He would decline every day until the day he died, and that fate befell him... until his second chance appeared.

However, Nemean's situation was nowhere as dismal, and he had to remind him of that. "I won't stay here and say your concerns are unfounded. Everyone else is indeed set to far surpass the potential you exhibit now," Kieran said candidly.

"Boss..." Bastion looked hurt and worried by Kieran's lack of empathetic words. The truth was sometimes so powerful listening to it was like being simultaneously hit in the head and heart by a swift sledgehammer blow.

Nemean's miserable expression reflected that sting and lingering pain.

But Kieran wasn't done. Far from it, actually.

"Though that may all be true, it's not the end for you. If I'm being honest... I don't think the beginning has even finished yet. Think about it. From being Untaught, we became Disciplined and then grew to be Novices. We were not strong at all, yet we believed ourselves to be because of our accomplishments. Now, we are Adepts, yet we're only marginally stronger than our Novice selves. Don't forget that we have yet to take any meaningful steps as Adepts. More importantly, though, view all of this as a preparation for us to become Masters. Keep challenging yourself, walk to the edge where your death may lay... and confront it. Rare isn't enough? Become Legendary. That isn't enough; forge a Myth! I believe all of you can do it if you try. I can't see how your ascent could be stopped if you give it your all."

Listening to Kieran's words, everyone grew quiet, staring at him with mixed emotions. Something about him felt... different. They couldn't put it into words, but right now, he felt like more of a leader than ever.

His words were simple and straightforward yet carried a heartfelt message. More than that, there were bits of information woven in that the others - aside from Altair, who knew precisely what forging a Myth meant - didn't detect.

How exactly was a Myth forged? It required a monstrous power source to draw upon and empower oneself, but how could that source be captured?

And... what of balance? Could there be a limitless number of Myths? Would the Watcher in the Sky allow that to happen without intervening?

Kieran couldn't answer the questions popping up inside his mind, but he hated to see his team members in mental anguish when he could offer words of support.

Suddenly, Nemean stopped slouching. His sulking expression vanished gradually, and his head rose. Adopting a confident expression, he looked Kieran in the eyes with something close to gratitude.

"Thank you for the pep talk, Boss. You're right. This isn't the end, and the beginning has yet to end. We're on a path to becoming Masters, and whatever else awaits beyond that. And I will be here. I swear I will. Even if I must break myself to make that happen," Nemean said. The last of his words, however, resonated with Kieran, causing him to take a few moments of silence. He wondered why that was until he realized it was Nemean's comment about breaking himself.

His Unique Path revealed that he was the Herald of the Unbroken. But again, he was curious about what it meant to be Unbroken. What was the significance of that term, and why was he considered the herald?

If he considered Nemean's words, he could make people go the distance by inspiring them while they were at their breaking point, but was that all?

No, it couldn't be.

Otherwise, the Title wouldn't be rated so highly. There had to be something great but

unmentioned about that Title.

Kieran hummed in thought, crossing his arms. His action could be misinterpreted, considering his intense, thoughtful gaze subconsciously fell on Nemean.

'Is Nemean one of the Unbroken?'

With that thought, Kieran looked at Ezra, who carried the Unbroken Blade. Why was it called

the Unbroken Blade?

So many questions rose in his mind, and they all made him sigh. He felt overwhelmed from drowning in a sea of questions.

Luckily, it wasn't that his questions didn't have answers. They merely required time for the

answers to be found.

Leaving Bastion and Nemean to continue talking amongst themselves, Kieran approached theNôv(el)B\\jnn

pile of dark sand with a few glimmering jewels within.

[Do you wish to loot the Sentinel of the Northern Sands?]

Kieran answered the prompt with a mental command, and within seconds, a screen appeared before his eyes.