AN: I AM SO SORRY I don't know what happened but borked and the email you may have gotten about the chapter may have lead to a dead link. Hopefully this fixes it.

23

And Ye Shall Know The Truth

Thomas,
The Painted World

After making his bold declaration, Thomas allowed himself a bold pose, standing defiantly with his right arm folded behind his back. Subconsciously, however, the fingers of his hand crossed, and he fervently prayed that something, anything happened to help them. Sure, he smiled bravely, but he was terrified for his friends. Well I mean… Am I their friend? This doubt gnawed at him constantly. Kirk and Lol'th held familial bonds with Thomas, but another Thomas whom he allegedly would become. He wasn't that man yet, however. Surely he wasn't good enough now. At least, he wouldn't trust himself to be a father. Not as he is, anyways. Solaire only knew him as a guy who helped Oscar. Laurentius and Oscar likely respected him as a savior, but they had nothing apart from that to work with. And Rhea? He shattered her world, and then fed her a pile of lies to work with. If anything, his actions against her had been the most egregious, because he then used her for all he could to get as much power as possible, as quickly as possible. These thoughts, and more, swirled through him, filling his mind with doubt, as well as revulsion to himself. In spite of his show of self-confidence, this was what he truly thought of himself in this moment; a less than capable leader, using deceit and trickery to get what he wanted. I was a terrible liar in life once, but reformed. How have I fallen so far that I've returned to such petty lows? It's not that he didn't have a reasonable point to his original lie. Proclaiming yourself from another world entirely would mark you as insane. Labeling himself a prophet, vague and unknowable, saved much short-term headache in explaining things. I see. It was laziness. I just didn't want to deal with it. But now, seeing his friends risk everything just to save his own sorry ass, he saw no reason to deceive them anymore. "Beatrice. The moment I'm out of here, I'm revealing the truth. The entire truth. Not just of the world, but of myself."

The witch looked at him, giving a curt smile, and nodding. "That was one of the things I respected about the Thomas I am familiar with. Both in his thoughts and his beliefs, he was honest. Straightforward almost to a fault."

"So. I can be better?" Thomas mused aloud. "Well. The potential exists at least. We'll see if I live up to the better man you believe I might be." Of course, better was the best he could go for. He wasn't good, after all. One need only observe him over the past few days… weeks… whatever. Time was hard. In any case, one needed only look at how he had been, since coming to this world, to see that.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Kirk,
Atop the Fortress of Sen

Once upon a time, Kirk would have been intimidated by a massive, mechanical, metal monstrosity such as this. Nowadays, after his experience, he knew that an enemy's size only lead to limitations in what it could do. He watched as a barrier shimmered around the iron carapace of the golem, and recognized it as divine origin. "Lol'th! Occult!" Sheathing his barbed short sword on his hip, he then reached behind his shoulder, grabbing the flamberge that appeared on his back as he swapped weapons. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Lol'th nodding in acknowledgement, before swapping for an alternate pair of scimitars. As expected, they were occult in nature, perfect for fighting against gods and their protective magicks. He had been taught well to have a weapon for every occasion. Find what your enemy's strongest point is, and then bring out the weapon that is strong in an opposing manner. Fight fire with water, water with grass, and grass with fire. Thomas would keep referring to strange beasts that were pitted against each other in lessons such as these, but such strange examples were assuredly not of this world. However, now was not the time for such ponderings. "Priscilla!" he called out, in a voice steadfast and stern. "Protect the others with your power. Lol'th and I have this."

Giving his aunt a moment of his attention (though the majority remained, of course, on the beast before them), he observed Priscilla nervously hold her scythe in front of her, standing ahead of the majority of the group. "Hold back," she advised. "The barrier around the golem is a ward. Your weapons and spells will be useless against it."

"And leave them to do all the work?" Solaire cried in protest. "Surely such a monstrosity requires a team effort!"

"Your efforts, I fear, would only prove a hindrance," Priscilla responded smoothly. "Their weapons are occult in nature, enabling them to bypass the power of the gods. Such a power is similar to my own Lifehunt, in another way. As your weapons do not have this property, I regretfully must say that you would only get in their way."

Solaire harrumphed, but otherwise did not object. Kirk, satisfied that there were to be no further interruptions, set about to work. A slow brute like this would be short work, especially given his time training alongside his sister. Come on, he thought to himself in a low growl. I've been a more threatening monster myself than this thing. Time to turn it to scrap. Aloud, he simply called out. "Lol'th! Let's go! For Izalith!"

Thomas,
The Painted World

As Thomas watched, his jaw slowly dropped. Lol'th and Kirk coordinated attacks almost without communicating at all. "How much training did Quelaag give them?"

"Actually, this will have been just as much your handiwork as anyone else's," Beatrice said without batting an eye. In fact, she seemed slightly amused by the proceedings, a slight curl to her lips as she watched the ensuing beatdown. "But then, I suppose that's a spoiler, isn't it?"

Thomas merely shrugged, before speaking up. "Hey so, Gwyndolin? I know I might sound like a dick here but, can we talk for a moment? No insults, no pretensions. I think it's time we tried coming to an understanding."

He was met with silence for some time, before finally, "Have you decided to gloat?"

"No."

"What, then?" Gwyndolin's voice was a hiss, filled with malice, and Thomas was forced to bite back a comment regarding using his snakes to do the talking.

"Look. You and I both know that the Undead are an unrelentingly stubborn force, and now you have a small army of them at your front door."

"Do you seek to intimidate me?" The voice cut in almost at a shriek.

"No, actually." Thomas winced. "Right, I apologize. That was a bad start. My intention was to try and get us to resolve this. Preferably without further bloodshed. And-" Thomas cut himself off, there. Probably best not to mention that the next blood shed that would have any meaning would likely be his. "I get it, man. You're protective of your father's name, as well as his legacy." After a small pause, he gave a small chuckle. "Frankly, I can respect that goal. It's honorable enough, if you ask me. Even if I heavily disagree with your methods."

There was no response, but the silence was, in an of itself, in such a manner that he knew the god was listening. "I've seen the end, Gwyndolin. Beyond the Age of Fire. Beyond Anor Londo itself. And I'll not lie to you. I want to prevent that world of Ash from coming to be. But I also have no idea how to do so. I could use your help for brainstorming."

"Simple enough," the god of vengeance responded. "Continue the sacrifices. As long as the Flame is satiated, the Age of Fire continues."

"Good plan," Thomas agreed. "Except there's a few problems that will take several Linkings to manifest. Say no heir shows up, or the previously established Lord of Cinder to be fucks off, instead choosing to watch the Fire fade from a distance. What do you do then? You dredge up Lords of Cinder past to serve as kindling once again."

"Lords of Cinder past?" Beatrice but in. "I thought Gwyn was the only one so far."

"You're correct. But when the Chosen Undead links the First Flame, he too becomes a Lord of Cinder. And then he's on a timer that, like the First, will eventually burn out. Thus a replacement for him will be required as well. But anyways, because the previous Lords of Cinder have already been burned once by the Flame, they won't be as powerful, which is why you would want multiple Lords."

"I see," Gwyndolin said slowly. "This could work."

"Yeah," Thomas said. "Until the Lords of Cinder choose to fuck off as well. Think about it." He spread his hands out. "They've already sacrificed themselves to be living matchsticks for a few thousand years. Then, they're finally allowed to be dead, and to know rest after their time of torment. Then, you kick their graves open and tell them, "Actually, you know what, you're not done yet." Don't you think they'd be a little upset? After all, the novelty of the "Honor" of being a Lord of Cinder will have well worn off on those guys." Thomas shook his head. "So, you have an alternative solution. Get the ashes of Undead who tried to link the Flame, but were ultimately too weak to get it done, and burned. Revive them, task them to get the Lords back together, and then infuse the power of the Lords into the Ashen One, and then pray that this time, the Ashen One is strong enough to actually do it. And even that can go wrong if Kaathe's church has it's way."

"Get to the point," Gwyndolin pressed, his voice getting impatient. And angry. His golem was on it's last legs.

"Your plan hinges on luck, hope, and prayer. And even if everything goes right, The First Flame isn't as strong after the subsequent linking." Beatrice perked up. This was apparently news. "Yeah. Even if you extend the timer, there's a limit to how many times you can do this. Each time, the First Flame progressively gets weaker and weaker, and it becomes less a question of whether or not your Champion of the Week is strong enough to hold the Flame, but whether or not the First Flame itself will be strong enough to survive the Linking."

Beatrice's eyes were wide in a mixture of shock and horror. "Is there truly nothing we can do to delay this end?"

"To be completely honest, fucked if I know," the false prophet proclaimed simply. "That's why I want your help on this, Gwyndolin. Your age and experience exceeds my own. We can work together to find a solution that benefits everyone. What do you say?"

Silence. The Golem fell, and the pathway opened. As the party gathered before the ring, Gwyndolin spoke. "You lie. You must be lying."

Pretty well thought out lie, Thomas thought to himself, but aloud said "I'm not that clever, man. Think about it. Am I really so clever that I would have thought up a backup plan to a backup plan to a backup plan? And to say it would still fail after all of that?" After tossing up his hands in the air, Thomas shrugged. "I get it. You don't want to believe me. And I can't make you. The evidence of all this is so far off you yourself will have passed on, much less anyone here. But I can explain how I know of all of this, without a shadow of a doubt, to be true."

Thomas then told him.

AN:
Well, sorry for the massive delays. Hopefully this will tide you guys over. I appreciate the understanding and kind words you guys gave me.