Epilogue 1/5

  The sleepy red and orange hues of sunset covered the sky as the victorious sauntered through the streets of Ironheart Fortress with tired smiles. Artyom and Neitra led the impromptu procession with an unusually silent Tommy by their side and their fellow men- and women-at-arms from TOAL behind them, all making their way through the multicolored streetlights. For such a normally lively town, the roads were quiet, with almost nobody waiting for the returning heroes at the main gates. All the better for them, that way. After the grueling ordeal they’d survived, they didn’t care much for basking in any fanfare.

  “Those lights look different from what I remember,” Artyom absentmindedly commented.

  “There’s usually a Skill that automatically creates them when its user passes by. My hometown had one,” replied Neitra, observing the many hues that painted the streets and townsfolk below. “But I guess that’s no longer a thing.”

  The few people the group passed ambled around like them, their expressions vacant yet curious while they all seemingly searched for something. Even the members of Ironheart Fortress’ army, who were right on the tails of the TOAL agents, looked around their own home as if they too were lost. The gates, rows of houses, and dirt and cobble streets were intimately familiar to them, but they gazed upon it all as if for the very first time.

  “You know, I expected a little more celebration,” joked Artyom, letting out a single, weak chuckle. “Everyone here should know that the Dark-, I mean Sworn Enemy, is dead by now.”

  “I think they’re still processing everything else that’s changed,” replied Neitra. “He’s not the only one they’ve been freed from, after all.”

  Artyom nodded solemnly. After destroying the giant crystal hidden underneath the Dark Lord’s fortress, they’d apparently erased all traces of the goddess’ influence from this World. The taint poisoning and slowing everyone’s minds, the hand-holding leveling System, and judging by the various newly hewn religious symbols now lining certain houses, the amnestic curse placed on the old pantheon were all gone. And despite such newfound freedom, the people of Ironheart Fortress weren’t immediately celebrating. Rather, they were still taking in these novel revelations.

  “Hark, hark!” shouted one of the townsfolk who appeared from a street corner. He was dressed in the white and single blue-striped robes of the goddess’ priests. He had a wild look about him as he held an old tome in one hand and waved at the approaching congregation. “Have you heard the good word?”

  Scout and several other TOAL agents reflexively grimaced at the phrase and its proselytic association, while Artyom on the other hand chose to approach the man.

  “And what good word might that be?” he asked slowly with wary eyes. “Would it be about the goddess?”

  “Absolutely not!” he exclaimed back. “The good word was kept secret from us, and I wish to share it with the world! That of the True System, the Old Gods and Goddesses, and the True Gift of Knowledge!”

  “Woah, slow down there! You’re going to have to give us some context first,” replied the half-asian man despite having a good idea of what the supposed priest was talking about, especially from the familiarity he felt from the book he was carrying. “And start from the beginning, I want the full picture.”

  “Of course, of course!” replied the white robed man excitedly. “For years, I’ve been an ardent follower of Allivaine, the goddess the whole Kingdom worshipped, and earlier today, a miracle occurred! The gift of knowledge granted to her most loyal followers and chosen made its way to everyone! We were all overjoyed! I directed my prayers to her, thanking her for the blessing, but I received no response. None of us did, in fact.” He turned his face towards the ground, forlorn.

  Artyom and Neitra exchanged a knowing look as to why.

  “With this newfound knowledge and curiosity, we began searching for answers. Normally abandoned, the library was now full of curious souls craving any kind of hint as to what was going on, and that is where we found this!” He shoved the book in Neitra’s face, forcing her to take a step back. As she looked at its cover with a scowl at almost being decked in the nose, her mouth dropped as she read the faded cover.

  “Introspections on the Divines,” she said aloud, her hand tracing the words indented into the leather-like material. Artyom’s eyes widened when he realized why the book felt so familiar.

  “We found this sitting amongst the oldest tomes,” continued the man. “It was always there, but we couldn’t even see it until now! The book was written about 600 years ago, when the earliest mentions of the goddess occur just after that. It didn’t take long for us to put two and two together and realize that Allivaine was responsible for their disappearance.”

  “I’ve never heard anyone use the goddess’s name so openly before,” replied Artyom. “And how do you know she was responsible for all of that?” He already knew the answer himself, but he was curious what the people of this World had figured out for themselves since their recent intellectual freedom.

  “Not using her name was something she desired, but I no longer have any respect for her, so I no longer abide by her restrictions.”

  “Be careful, though,” replied Artyom with a somber expression. “Names have power, and can attract their owners’ attention if you repeat it too much, just like a prayer.”

  The man gulped and nodded, before regaining his composure and continuing. “But as for why we know she was responsible for the disappearance of the old gods, we simply asked them!”

  “Asked?” asked Neitra.

  “Correct! Upon finding this book, me and many of my fellow knowledge seekers tried forming a prayer to the gods and goddesses of this book, and we received a response! One that detailed everything! And I wish to spread that message to the whole world, starting with Ironheart Fortress!”

  Neitra looked into the man’s eyes and nodded with a genuine smile. “Thank you, but we already know. Perhaps the army over there would be more interested in the details?” She pointed behind her to the bulk of Ironheart Fortress’ army, who was making their way up the street in the distance.

  “The army! The great defenders of Ironheart Fortress deserve to know the truth more than anyone else! Thank you,” he said with a warm expression, running over to his new would-be congregation.

  “I’m surprised you didn’t tell him that we’re the ones who freed them,” said Artyom to Neitra once the man was out of earshot.

  “You said it yourself,” she replied. “Don’t start gloating until you’ve already won.”

  “But we have won, haven’t we?”

  “Not yet,” she shook her head and looked at her hands. “Not until we… get used to all of these changes.”

  Artyom sighed. The biggest challenge any chosen hero usually faced wasn’t defeating some evil tyrant or conquering their inner demons. No, it was the bureaucracy involved in fixing everything after they’ve done all of that. What was going to happen to that tyrant’s old kingdom and its citizenry? How were the nations opposed to the villain going to shift their war-centric economies to one suited for peace? So many questions, and no easy answers. The fact that the level System the World ran on was switched out for a new one, one that apparently no longer held its users’ hands for everything, only introduced even more difficulties.

  “Hey, I know who that is! That’s the hero!” came another shout from ahead of the group. A man at the front of a large congregation pointed at Tommy with a look of indignation, the men and women behind him screaming in response. “Get him!”

  “Hey, there really is a welcoming party!” exclaimed the Great Hero as he looked at the oncoming torch-wielding crowd.

  “Uh, Tommy?” began Artyom. “You might want to get your eyes checked, because I’m pretty sure that’s an angry mob.” Sure, add one more difficulty to the already extensive list then, why dontcha?

  As the horde of enraged townsfolk was nearly upon them, Artyom forced the last drops of his barely recovered magic into a short burst of aura of calm and understanding, and let it trickle over the mob for a brief flash. Alone it didn’t do much to slow them down, but as he followed it up with a shout, they came to a standstill in front of them.

  “Wait, he’s innocent!” shouted Artyom, forcing the words out between pants.

  “And what’s that supposed to mean? He’s the old goddess’ chosen hero, the same goddess who took away our ability to think!”

  “Do you think he was working with her?” asked Neitra with a raised voice as Tommy crouched behind her. “He was just as much of a victim as all of you were! Besides, he’s the one who killed the Sworn Enemy, goddess or no.”

  “But what if that was all part of her plan?” asked the same man. “And why should we believe you?”

  “...Because we’re also chosen ones,” replied Neitra with a sigh. The townsfolk began to raise their torches and pitchforks before Neitra completed her sentence. “Of Yama.”

  They paused once more, looking at her with suspicion. “You know we’re going to need proof of that.”

  She unfastened the Yamastra from her bag and held it out for them to see. It wasn’t easy with Tommy practically hugging her back. “I bet you’ve all read ‘Introspection of the Gods’, so I’m sure this will look really familiar.” She briefly glanced at Artyom as if asking him a question.

  He realized that she’d never had the chance to look through the book herself, but was trying to confirm whether or not the Yamastra was depicted within it, as that was where he’d gotten the riddle to find it in the first place. He quickly nodded back, satisfying her curiosity.

  “Oh… godd-s,” replied the same man, stuttering for a moment to correct his oath. “It really is.”

  “And Tommy here helped us stop the goddess, so you should be thanking him, more than anything.”

  “Oh, well, sorry about that. Thank you all, really. And thank you… Tommy.” The crowd mumbled amongst themselves awkwardly before heading away.

  Once they were out of sight, the hero slowly came out from behind the rogue and addressed his two rescuers. “Th-thanks for saving me again,” he said, scratching his head in embarrassment. “And it looks like you were right about how things are different. But I don’t really blame them for being mad, I mean even I’m not happy about what’s happened.”

  “Don’t worry about it,” replied Artyom with a weary smile. “I won’t blame you if you never want to come back here if you’re going to constantly be running away from lynch mobs like that. TOAL can find another nice fairytale World for you to settle down in, or you could even join us?”

  Tommy simply bobbed his head softly in understanding, electing not to make any kind of decision just yet. “I think I’ll walk with your other friends, if that’s fine. Away from anyone who can see and recognize me.”

  “Yeah that’s fine,” replied Artyom with a gentle nod, letting the boy make his way to the back of their procession. The agents made room at the center of their congregation for him, hiding him from any prying eyes.

  As he settled himself down and began making friends with the others, the sound of several ringtones got everyone’s attention. Artyom and Scout picked up and listened in to a call with the war room before hanging up.

  “Hey, everyone!” shouted Scout to the others. “Prithvi says we’ll be rendezvousing with her and the others where the war council had their last meeting. Off to the commercial district, then!”

  The agents around him nodded, accepting the order but not changing their pace. They’d already won, there was no point in hurrying.

  As the group continued down the streets, they were met with many more peculiar sights.

  Lost couriers ran through the streets aimlessly, now lacking the innate sense of direction provided to them by their old Skills. Most didn’t bother to actually learn the layout of the town when they had a chance, and now they were paying the price. However, several similarly aimless townsfolk took the time to direct them, those familiar with the area around their homes patiently imparting their knowledge.

  Several horse-drawn carriages had crashed into streetlights and buildings as the drivers’ Skills reset mid-ride. Most of the people involved were relatively unharmed, but various healers were present at the site of each accident to tend to even minor injuries. Even without their normal healing abilities powered by the goddess, the clerics did what they could with whatever new Skills they gained and divine intervention they received from any new deities who were once again listening to their prayers.

  Carriages and couriers were the lucky ones. Several dilapidated houses held up by their landlords through structural Skills alone had finally collapsed, leaving many men, women, and children stranded on the streets.

  “Hey, give us a hand!” shouted a small group searching through the rubble of one such ruined home. Their voice and presence held an urgent authority that brought Artyom, Neitra, and the other TOAL soldiers over without a second thought.

  “What are we looking for?” asked Artyom as he hobbled towards them, albeit with some difficulty.

  “Literally anything,” one of the searchers replied. “Something the family who lived here can sell to help make ends meet, maybe something sentimental to get them through hard times. I think they have a pet dog or something, even.”

  Artyom’s eyes widened as he edged out a casting of Detect Life with what truly was the last of his magic, and quickly made his way past the others to an abandoned section of the ruins. After shoving the remains of several wooden beams out of the way, he and the others could hear a high-pitched whimpering. The others immediately rushed to him to assist. Once even more of the rubble was shifted aside, they found exactly what they were looking for, and extricated the small beagle from the collapsed building.

  It immediately ran to a little girl off to the side, who picked up the creature with a tear-soaked laugh as it tried to lick her face dry. Two of the adults taking part in the search broke off to comfort the girl with hugs and grins of their own.

  The others couldn’t help but smile at the sight, using it as an opportunity to let loose their own tears they were keeping stored up. Several of the members of TOAL joined in, happy to take the chance to release the torrent of emotion they kept hidden within. Even Artyom and Neitra jumped in, welcoming the chance to let the saline drops carry away their fears, sadness, and melancholy.

  “Hey, I’ve got dinner for you all!” came a shout from the distance. A woman carrying a large, covered basket of bread in one hand carefully ran through the streets towards the group, waving her free arm with a wide smile.

  “How much?” asked one of the rescue volunteers, reaching for his coin purse.

  “It’s free!” exclaimed the woman. “My teacher, Baker Borage, told me to hand them out to anyone helping others out.”

  The lady handed out loaf halves to everyone, who gladly accepted their auspiciously obtained meal, taking large bites out of the crispy bread.

  “Hold on, mine’s burned!” complained one of the volunteers. “I don’t remember Borage ever burning anything!”

  “Oh, sorry about that!” apologized the woman, exchanging the charred loaf for a properly baked one. Before she could place it back in her basket, Artyom grabbed and took a bite of it alongside his normal loaf. The woman laughed at his hunger and offered him another half before continuing. “Borage always relied on his [Never Burn] Skill when baking, but since he lost it, he’s been trying to figure out how to do it correctly by himself.”

  “Darn shame, then,” replied another woman in the crowd. “Looks like he’s lost out from this System shuffle.”

  “Oh, he doesn’t think so,” replied the baker’s assistant with a hopeful smile. “He obtained some new Skills that he says will let him bake even better bread than ever before! [Everfluff] and [Perfect Ferment], in fact! He just has to catch up to where he was beforehand.”

  “Well, this bread is still delicious! You tell him I’ll be there to see him through this journey!” laughed the first volunteer. “Or maybe with that last Skill, he can switch to brewing alcohol and skip past Sparkle!”

  The townsfolk let out a series of hearty laughs, accepting of the humor to lighten their darkest day. Artyom and Neitra did the same, happy to take part in their grasps for joy. But soon enough, they too had to move on.

  Realizing they were running late for their rendezvous, the triumphant heroes continued on the road once more towards the warehouse district. There were a few more distractions along the way, but they were able to safely walk past most with clean consciences. One of which involved the angry mob they’d encountered earlier.

  “Hey, move out of the way and let us through!” shouted the man at the front towards a group of four priests sitting on the front steps of a local church.

  The head priest looked up while the others kept their heads in their hands as they barely looked away from the ground. “How can I help you?” he asked in an exhausted tone.

  “We’re going to burn this testament to the goddess down! So move out of the way and don’t even think of stopping us!”

  “I see,” replied the priest again, slowly rising to his feet. “We won’t stop you, but perhaps you would like to reconsider? Many of Ironheart Fortress’ displaced citizens are taking refuge within these walls, and if you burn it down, they won’t have anywhere else to go.”

  “Oh, uh,” said the man with a shocked face as he lowered his torch. He took a moment to think to himself before responding. “Well, I’m sure there are all sorts of symbols of the goddess inside. Would it be fine if we take those out and burn those instead? We could even use it to start a bonfire to cook food for the people inside with.”

  The head priest regarded the man with thoughtful eyes as he slowly formed his own response. “That… would be acceptable. Would you mind if we joined you in this endeavor?”

  “No, no we wouldn’t,” the mob leader replied with a warm smile. He turned towards the rest of his congregation and shouted a series of instructions at them. “Alright, half of you join us to clear out the place, and the rest of you grab cauldrons and food! I’m starving, and I bet you all and everyone inside are too!”

  As the group split and began their diligent work in stripping the church of all its ghastly reminders, Artyom and company decided to move on. Eventually, they reached their destination in the gray warehouse district.

  “Artyom,” said Prithvi, her hands on her hips. “Thank God you’re alive.” She sighed and hugged the man, who returned it with an additional pat on the back. “We ended up getting ambushed instead, we didn’t even know how they did it!”

  “It’s alright, Prithvi,” replied Artyom as he extricated himself from her grip. “We knew what I was getting into. I mean, that’s why you gave me the extra batteries and I rigged the place with explosives! I made it out to live another day, and that’s all that really matters. Too bad about the Spymaster, though. There goes our best source of intel on the goddess.”

  “Wait, but you destroyed the crystal,” said Tommy with a confused expression. Being the reason Artyom came to this World in the first place, it was only natural he was included in the meeting along with Neitra, Scout, and the rest of the war room. “Shouldn’t the goddess be gone now, so why do you need even more info about her?”

  “She’s not from this World,” replied Gus from a phone speaker. “We had the misfortune of running into her in our last big mission, so to speak. And chances are she’s also got her fingers in even more pies than these two.”

  “Oh God,” replied Tommy, already having switched back to using Earth expressions despite his current shock.

  “It might be a long fight, and we could use any help we can get,” added Gus. “How about it? Want to join the Terran Otherworldly Advocacy League and continue the good fight?”

  “Uh…” hesitated Tommy.

  “Give him a break, Gus,” chided Artyom. “He just had his entire worldview shattered right before his eyes today! Now’s not the time to be giving him a job offer. At least wait until he’s in a better state.”

  A low grumble could be overheard from the other side of the connection, along with a slightly cut off apology.

  “Hold on, didn’t you do the same, Artyom?” asked Neitra.

  “I mean, I was just putting it out there that he could have a place fighting alongside us, not that he had to make a decision then itself,” he replied awkwardly.

  “So was I,” added Gus. “I would’ve accepted a simple ‘I need to think about it’ too.”

  “Alright, fine,” sighed Artyom. “Sorry Gus, and sorry Tommy.”

  The two accepted his apology before the conversation continued.

  “So, it’ll take us another day to clean up our traces and leave,” said Prithvi, changing the topic. “In the meantime, do you want to stay at basecamp with us, Artyom? We have a nice officer’s tent with your name on it.”

  “Hmm…” said Artyom, deep in thought. He looked up with a neutral expression as he replied. “Neitra and I still have another few nights left for our suite, and it’s a pretty nice one at that. I think I’d like to stay there another night first. Besides, I have some other business I need to take care of first.”

  “Alright, so be it,” replied Prithvi carefreely. “Just meet back here tomorrow afternoon at 3 pm so we can send you back along with the other officers. We still need a bit to clean up and do another headcount before we can send you on your way.” She turned towards Tommy to address him next. “Seeing as how I’ve been told that you narrowly avoided a lynch mob today, maybe it’d be best if you come spend the night with the rest of us? There’s a lot we can fill you in on if you still have questions, and you can even have Artyom’s tent!”

  “Yeah, that sounds nice. I’ll go with you guys then,” Tommy nodded with a meek smile.

  “Alright, that’s everything then. The executive council will probably convene tomorrow itself, so make sure you sleep well tonight to be ready for that. Damn, I’m probably going to miss out on all of the juicy bits of everything to come!”

  Everyone present let out soft chuckles, happy to accept even the terribly mediocre joke as a candle flame against the utterly dour atmosphere of the day.

  The two groups separated after that, Artyom and Neitra heading back into town while everyone else used the nearby teleportation crystal to make their way towards TOAL’s new basecamp. Thankfully, the duo’s inn was still standing and their room was still theirs for the night. After a long and hot shower for each of them, they went to bed after a terribly exhausting day. The whole town slept with them, letting the fears and worries and pains they faced fade into yesterday.

  But there was still one fear, one worry, one last pain that wouldn’t fade until it was properly dealt with. And for that, Artyom left his room as the new moon stood tall in the sky, with nothing but the clothes on his back and Neitra’s bag.