Chapter 6
I sat on a bench, quietly basking under the fading rays of sunlight. It had been a few hours since my arrival in Irian—the name of this town—and I had spent that time gathering as much information as possible about the world's current state without being too much of a nuisance to the townspeople.
This world wasn't much different from the twenty-first century, boasting a vast array of technology that allowed information to be transferred across the globe in an instant. Smartphones, computers, and other modern conveniences were commonplace here.
What I had learned from this world's equivalent of the internet was a mix of good and bad news.
First off, the good: Cthulhu's assault had ultimately failed, forcing the beast to retreat and leaving the world to recover. I already knew that as I'd witnessed the beast's escape myself, but hearing second accounts brought me some peace of mind.
Sadly... out of the nineteen billion humans spread throughout the solar system, only an estimated five billion remained, split between two worlds. three of the five habitable planets were rendered uninhabitable, left with nothing but piles of ash and sand. With how everything went down, it's a miracle they weren't completely destroyed.
Now onto the bad: Terraria had been stripped of its protectors. To me, not but a day had passed, but in truth, three entire months had come and gone since my demise. The deaths of the Dryads and Terrarians were already widespread knowledge, sparking initial chaos before some semblance of order returned.
Even so, pockets of anarchy still festered in some parts of the world. However, the chaos also brought upon the creation of the Guild of Guides, an organization tasked on aiding the lost during such times of distress. It was started by a man named 'Andrew Spinks' in an attempt to bring peace across Terraria.
From the looks of it, the Guides had been mostly successful in their campaign; their exploits were well documented, and their numbers only grew by the day. They've even started reaching out to neighbouring planets to offer their assistance. After reading through their list of deeds, I couldn't help but give a nod of approval.
Rubbing my chin, I began planning my next course of action. The world's current situation wasn't great, but not unsalvageable. If my guess is correct, I should have, at the very least, three to five years until Cthulhu's injuries heals just enough to restart its conquest, which was more than enough time for me as well.
My siblings and I were no match for it. If I wanted even the slightest chance of victory, I needed to expand my arsenal. That was why prioritizing my soul to be able to accommodate more elements and concepts was crucial. Having high affinity with 'Swords' was already a fantastic start, but possessing others like 'Magic'—which I was most familiar with—or 'Nature' would be even better.
Unfortunately, this little town had next to nothing in terms of alchemical components for me to purchase. Luckily, the nearest city did. And the Guides, having nearly completed the town's repairs, were set to sail there tomorrow afternoon. I had already asked if I could catch a ride, and they agreed, letting me tag along. Now, all I had to do was spend the night, and the people here are kind enough to lend a small room for me to sleep in.
As the sun sank below the horizon, allowing darkness to envelop the sky, my senses picked up on a sharp rise in malignant forces sweeping through the air.
Rising from my seat, I scanned my surroundings. The Guides and guardsmen had already taken position, stationed along the walls with their weapons at the ready. Beyond the safety of the blockade, over a hundred grotesque, humanoid creatures draped in tattered cloth dragged themselves toward Irian's gates.
'They usually aren't this quick to form, and never this close to a human settlement...' I thought, scanning the advancing horde.
Undead beings, born from the negative energy humanity unconsciously exuded into the world, roamed the night and dissolved with the coming dawn. Normally, they emerged far from human settlements, but the lingering despair from the recent war had thickened the air with sorrow—enough to fuel their creation at an alarming rate.
My eyes narrowed as one of the bowmen loosed an arrow, accurately hitting a zombie's cranium. But instead of vanishing into a puff of malicious smog, the creature continued its march like it was never struck in the first place. Not only were these undead abominations birthed nearer to civilization, but many times stronger as well, it seemed.
Individually, a capable adult could take down one or two with relative ease, as their lack of intelligence made them predictable. However, their true strength lay in their overwhelming numbers. No matter how many were slain, more would always take their place, making them a nightmare to the common people.
Thankfully, the Guides and guardsmen were prepared, this was clearly not their first time dealing with such a swarm. With practiced efficiency, they defended the walls, cutting down the incoming undead in a coordinated assault. Fumes of white smoke, reeking of decay, billowed into the air as dozens of the creatures were laid to rest.
I could see that most of them carried small firearms at their sides, but refrained from using them, opting to use cold weapons instead. Made sense; gunfire would only draw more undead from the forest.
Though tempted to step in, I knew it was best to remain a spectator. Intervening would only disrupt the rhythm they had settled into. Sometimes, the most helpful action one could make was to simply stay out of the way.
With the battle more or less under control, I turned away and made my way toward one of the newly constructed buildings in the area. The interior was bare, save for a pillow and a blanket, given to me by one of the Guides earlier. Sleeping on concrete wasn't great, but I've been through worse.
Once morning came, nothing worth noting happened. The hours came and went as the people went about their day like normal. Meanwhile, having completed their objective here, the Guides stood by the outskirts, waiting for their transport to arrive.
I idled nearby, doing whatever to occupy my time, when a sudden noise stole my attention. In the distance, a large military truck emerged, bearing a distinctive insignia on its side—an open book with a hilt protruding from behind it. A simple design, yet instantly recognizable as the mark of the Guild of Guides.
With a quick glance, I found enchantment runes etched across the truck's surface. Some reinforced its durability, while others muted the noise it produced. Though it was already near silent to begin with. Unlike Earth's gas-powered vehicles, Terraria's cars ran on an alternative energy source, emitting neither pollution nor exhaust.
The vehicle came to a halt before us, its rear doors swinging open, inviting us in. Taking the cue, the Guides, all eight of them, gathered their belongings, exchanging final farewells with the townsfolk who had gathered to see them off.
Following their lead, I waited for them to board first before stepping inside myself, coincidentally finding a seat beside Jacob. The back was big enough to accommodate over a dozen people, meaning space wasn't a concern.
"The ride might take a while, make yourself comfortable," he starts.
"This is a military vehicle, comfort is the last thing the engineers thought when making this truck," I josh. "Speaking of, How did the Guild even get their hands on this?"
Enchanted military trucks like this one aren't exactly easy to come by in the market. If it were to be sold to the public, the vehicle would've been stripped of its magical aspects to remove the risk of it being used for nefarious purposes.
"The Guild Master managed to negotiate a deal with the Empire in exchange for their direct aid. Not really sure how that happened, but desperate times calls for desperate measures," he replies with a shrug.
The Stratov Empire, the dominant superpower of the continent, was notorious for its hard-handed tactics and deep-seated distrust of nearly everyone. They saw potential enemies in all but themselves, making cooperation a rare occurrence. For them to agree to a deal that dispersed their military presence was a miracle in itself.
"Huh... did the Emperor die?" I question, earning a curious look from Jacob.
The Emperor is known to be a deeply paranoid man, hardly ever showing even a millimeter of skin to the masses in fear of assassination. He preferred to fulfill his duties in the shadows, and delegated most public affairs to his vassals. My question wasn't that much of a stretch.
"No," he shook his head. "Last I heard, he was stuck to a bed due to some injury, but still very much alive. Pretty sure he made an appearance, albeit briefly, two months ago announcing his support to the Guild."
"Hmm," I let out a short hum. "Not sure if that's a bad or good thing, to be honest."
"Nobody does, lad. But one thing's for certain, them lending a hand has earned them the majority's approval." Jacob's wariness was practically leaking into his tone.
I was in the same sentiment—suspicion. Either the Emperor had a change of heart after witnessing the widespread suffering, or he was scheming—perhaps using this crisis as an opportunity to expand the Empire's influence even further.
Regardless of his true intentions, the presence of Stratov's forces, alongside the Guild of Guides, would provide the people with a temporary sense of security. If anything sinister was at play, I would be the first to act.
As our ride drove through the clear, dirt path, a short lull took over. Wanting to pass time, I resume the conversation, saying, "Can you tell me more about your guild?"
"I'm afraid there really isn't much to say. What you want to know is probably already on the website. The Guild Master believes in transparency when it comes to the Guild, including our... less than savoury moments when people opposed us," he says.
"There's people going against your cause?" I ask. For a Guild of their magnitude, and is still rapidly growing, finding themselves at odds with certain groups was an inevitability.
"Oh, plenty," he confirms, "Though not many manage to stick around. The Guild does not embrace criminals who want nothing more than to stir trouble and have them quickly removed."
"Seems like you've killed people before?" I asked, noting the casual way he spoke about it. From the sound of it, he'd been doing so for a while.
"Yes. All of us have," he replied simply, his voice devoid of emotion. Noticing my lack of reaction, he continued, "You don't seem surprised. Most people look disturbed upon finding out that the so-called 'compassionate' Guild of Guides is mostly comprised of killers."
"Should I be?" I raised a brow. "It'd be weirder if you allowed such people to roam freely. Compassion has its limits, not everything can be solved over tea and biscuits."
"Indeed," Jacob agreed. "To most, kindness is a sign of weakness, something to exploit. But if you show them that there are consequences for doing so, they'll think twice. Hell, sometimes killing is the best solution to the problem."
"Yeah," I nodded in understanding. Though he sounded a tad psychopathic, his words carried merit.
Yesterday, I've read a few unflattering tabloids about how the Guild of Guides treats their enemies. And let's just say it wasn't for the faint of heart. While some called it cruel, most lauded it—they were scum of the earth, the people reasoned.
Unfortunately, that's just how humans are. Many would gladly drag others down, especially the ones who wanted nothing but peace, just to elevate themselves. But that didn't mean cruelty was their natural state. Having lived since the birth of mankind, I'd seen what they were truly capable of. Their ruthlessness might often overshadow their compassion, but the latter certainly existed—treasured, even, in the rare moments it shone through.
I steered the conversation elsewhere as we lurched over a particularly bumpy road. No need to stay on such a topic, so we talked about other things to lighten up the mood, even being joined by the others. The journey was a bit uncomfortable due to the vehicle's utilitarian design, but the lighthearted chatter between the Guides and me helped make up for it.
As time passed, the afternoon glow faded into darkness, and our destination finally emerged on the horizon. My gaze swept over the damaged ramparts encircling the city, and a flicker of recognition crossed my eyes.
The city of Arkhalis had seen... far better days, that's for certain.
The five-meter tall walls, once a fortress capable of repelling even the grandest of beasts, was left in utter ruins—scorched with countless scars of battle, barely holding itself together. Thankfully, it appears the buildings within didn't look as battered. Sure, most were toppled, reduced to rubble, but in better shape than expected.
The truck slowed down as we neared the gates... or what was left of it, at least. Had the cracked asphalt road not been there, the way in would've been no different from any breached section of the wall. The entrance was lined with armed guards, their posture one of exhaustion. Yet, their faces showed their determincation to fulfill their duties.
Upon being granted passage, our ride carefully rolled into Arkhalis, giving me a better look at the city's condition. It wasn't great, but the citizens were already trying their best to fix whatever they could. Though, I doubt the city's previous grandeur could ever be rebuilt.
Restoring a city of this scope to its former glory would require the expertise of the Hermits—a group renowned for their unparalleled mastery of landscaping and architecture. From what I gathered during my research yesterday, they had withdrawn to Minecraft—the only other surviving planet besides Terraria—to recover from the war. They had their own struggles to deal with.
"Can you drop me off here?" I spoke up, causing the truck to stop beside the remains of a sidewalk.
"You sure you're okay walking from here? We can take you farther in if you want," Jacob asked.
"It's fine," I nod, "the market isn't far from here. Thanks for the lift, I greatly appreciate it."
"All in a day's work. Don't mention it," he casually says.
Being the only person to alight from the vehicle, it didn't take long for the car's engine to roar back to life. However, just as it started to leave, Jacob decided to say something.
"Ah, before you go. Here, have this." Digging under his robe, the man flicked a gold coin in my direction.
Catching it with one hand, I couldn't help but raise a brow, "Shouldn't I be the one paying you guys for the ride? Why give me this?"
Paper currency was still being used in some parts of the world. But to the places that were affected the most by the war, they fell back on using copper, silver, gold, and platinum coins, as they were more far more durable and easier to produce than their paper counterpart.
"Again, don't mention it." He made a fanning motion with his hand. "Do I need a reason to help others? That's what the Guild of Guides are for, to help those who needs it, no matter how little."
"I see. Then, thank you. I'll be sure to remember this." Clutching the coin, I showed my gratitude with a small bow.
Their methods in dealing with those who resist them might rub people the wrong way, but it came from a desire to make change, for the betterment of everyone. They were good people at heart.
Saying our farewells, the truck wasted no time and left with its remaining passengers. Meanwhile, I traversed the familiar yet alien streets of Arkhalis, stalled by the countless debris everywhere, but eventually made my way to the marketplace.
The bazaar was... well, thriving to say the least. Upon stepping into the area, the shouts and chatter grew louder, blending into one incomprehensible mess. Despite the cataclysmic war that had ravaged the land no more than three months ago, life pressed on as usual. Parents still had mouths to feed, families to care for, and survival to ensure. That much hasn't changed.
Navigating through the bustling crowd, I eventually stopped in front of an alchemical shop that looked no worse for wear than anywhere else. The door was missing entirely, replaced by a thick dark curtain weighed down by water bottles to keep it in place.
Brushing the fabric aside, I entered the store to find it lightly filled with customers. Alchemy wasn't a widely practiced profession due to its time-consuming nature and the exorbitant costs required to produce even a single viable potion, but it still definitely exists, and even desired by some kingdoms. The top dogs of the alchemy world gets payed more than your typical knight.
Noticing my arrival, the middle-aged receptionist behind the counter greeted me, "Welcome, welcome. What can I get for you?"
"I need everything on this list, along with some unenchanted vials." I pulled a note from my bag, one I had prepared back in Fuyuki, and handed it to him.
Skimming through the list, he muttered, "...processed gel, fermented spider eye, an ounce of glowstone, life-crystal powder... We've got everything in stock except for fallen stars. You'll have to wait until later tonight for those."
"That's fine. I'll just come back later," I say, placing my due on the desk. I wasn't much of a hurry now that I'm here, waiting for a few more hours won't make much of a difference.
Fallen stars are spheres of pure, volatile mana. Similar to rain, they form when an immense concentration of mana condenses high in the atmosphere. Once they become too heavy to remain suspended, they plummet to the ground, glowing like falling stars in the night—hence their name.
To preserve their form, they must be kept in complete darkness, denied of sunlight. Otherwise, the delicate locks of mana binding them together will unravel, causing them to dissipate back into their natural state.
Nodding, he disappeared into the back with the list in hand and returned shortly after, gently placing a paper bag on the table.
With our transaction complete, I left the shop with my stuff, careful not to spill any of the ingredients as I had no way to buy more at this moment. Though I still had my gold plates, I needed to exchange them first to actually use them for anything.
So I did just that. It took a while to swap the slates, but after earning myself a hefty some of coins, I made my way to a nearby clinic to buy some medical supplies; using ordinary reagents instead of specialized tools to manipulate the soul would be a painful, and gruesome process. Best to be prepared.
However, the moment I stepped inside, my movements faltered as a familiar aura washed over me, sending a chill down my spine.
"Solar?" I murmured, barely above a whisper.
There was no mistaking it. The essence of Solar was here. But that was impossible—he had been the first of my siblings to perish, a death I had witnessed firsthand. Unless he had somehow survived, which I highly doubted, there was no way he could still exist in this world.
My gaze snapped to the woman sitting behind the front desk, a voluptuous figure with flowing blonde hair, lost in the pages of a book. But it wasn't her that took my attention, it was the necklace resting against her collarbone.
It pulsed, radiating Solar's unique power. The very essence of his vitality coursed through it, infusing her being with an unmatched level of life energy, one that granted her a partial immortality few could achieve.
As if sensing my stare, she snapped the book shut, her sharp emerald eyes locking onto mine.
"Hmm? Oh, a customer. What'cha need?" she spoke, her voice reminding me of a cold, wintry vista.
A single thought rang out in my head. Did Solar ever mention anything about him having children?
END.