Zane was off to Sage Noughtfire's home planet to claim his prize.
As he teleported into the main hub, he noticed the square was much sparser than usual—no crowds. There were a few worried-looking disciples off to the sides, inspecting a giant volcanic-rock bulletin board. It had notices like, "Gorgon King breaks loose! Second Tier-3 dungeon break in a week; Patriarch sends Ignite Team 6 to destroy."
There were also the usual advertisements for volcanic ash and essence-packed Magma Cookies, but few milled about to read them.
"Coming through!" barked a rough voice.
A glut of auras marched up the main road, straight toward the teleporters at the square's far end.
Half a dozen True Gods and another half dozen Minor Gods, lined up in a squadron. All clad in heavy red armor, laced with golden streaks, mimicking lava flows. Finely wrought Spirit Steel. Some of the True Gods' greaves and helms had to be near the peak of Heaven-grade. The True Gods were all well-groomed, young-looking folk; Zane assumed they were Core Disciples. At their head was a white-bearded Elder, leading them along.
They marched right by.
The Minor Gods were next, and Zane saw a few he recognized.
He remembered standing across from a few of them at the Ten-Man Challenge just a few months ago.
At the head of the Minor Gods was Kakorax, the Third Prince of True Dragons, barking at his cohort to keep up. There was some shiny gold badge on his breastplate. It seemed to make him their leader.
The others knuckled under, ducking their heads. Zane saw the bald, blue brothers Kane shuffling along with their staffs. That one pretty prince fellow winced, shuffling on behind.
Then Kakorax saw Zane blinking at them and flinched. Kakorax instantly looked down, flushing.
"Hurry up, fools!" he growled under his breath. They seemed in a bit of a rush.
They teleported on out.
Zane wondered if these folk were meant to be the Azure Flame's elite strike force—sent to deal with their Monster breakouts.
He wasn't very familiar with how these armies worked. But just watching how they moved, they seemed a good deal more clumsy than Reina's. Her elite archers marched in lockstep, quivers slung over the same shoulder. She ran her forces as neatly as she ran everything else.
It was still a bit surprising to Zane how quickly she got all those True Gods and Empyreans to submit to her. But that was Reina for you.
His chest warmed a little at the thought.
Then he took a closer look around the main square.
Usually, he passed straight through on his way to the Lightning Constellation. He hadn't been in a while.
The Hub Planet was pretty close by—about as big as a moon in the sky. With his eyes now, he could make out the situation from the ground.
Most of the stalls had been cleared out, it looked like. Lots of new arenas were popping up. More land had been given over to sparring grounds, where folk milled around, brandishing weapons.
As he glanced farther, across the Azure Flame galaxy proper, he saw flashes of light blanketing the surfaces of nearly every planet—skills streaking across the sky, making constant eruptions.
It was the sight of folk training.
War was in the air. You could nearly feel it.
Nodding, Zane made for the teleporters.
It was his turn too.
***
Noughtfire closed a hand, and the scrying glass dimmed. The clear, bright phoenix symbol in the middle went away.
Most of Lin Rai's lines of Fate pointed toward her successfully breaking through—making True God by the time the First Wave came. Noughtfire stroked his beard, nodding.
Every so often, the old Sage made it his business to check up on his disciples' Fates. He'd make subtle adjustments to guide them from the darker paths. It was easier to turn a ship a few degrees hundreds of miles in advance and avert the reefs, than it was to swerve just before the moment of impact.
A few choice words to Lin earlier today cleared up a foggy image; it'd avert a minor deviation in her breakthrough. She'd make it out just fine—with little effort on Noughtfire's end.
Now it was time for the disciple he'd saved for last. His most promising and difficult disciple.
He narrowed his eyes as he inspected his scrying glass and turned its gaze toward Zane Walker. Hazy colors began to resolve, scattering over a blank surface.
He held a palm over its surface, plucking the lines of Fate, making sure they were all orderly. But the picture stayed blurry.
"Troublesome," he muttered.
Usually, it would resolve to a clear sign, but all he saw was vague futures, hidden in a dense fog.
The trouble with Zane was that his Fate was too consequential. What he became would shape the Fate of the Galaxy itself—that was certain. It was hard to get a reading on something so vast.
Noughtfire stirred the mists again, gazing deeper.
He could make out a vague sign—a great blot of shining red in a gray sea, expanding to fill nearly the entire glass.
"The Red Giant," said Noughtfire, stroking his beard.
It could mean great power. But it also often meant mortal danger. And a Red Giant of this size… it meant both, on scales never before seen.
His disciple would be facing some pressure. It'd either break Zane, or forge him anew. But Noughtfire didn't need a scrying glass to tell him that.
He stirred the mists again; the symbol faded.
Then Noughtfire brought up the paths of Zane's Fate and puzzled over them again.
When he traced them, the old Sage found a surprising number of dead ends.
He wondered why so many paths were fatal. Zane took a great deal of risk—that was true. But he was resilient enough to head off most of them without issue; Noughtfire knew just how hard Zane was to put down… Strange.
Then again—those Fate-lines were fuzzy, uncertain. The Chaos Cycle was nearing its peak; things were chaotic, unsteady, changing fast. It all tended to cause a great deal of misreadings. That was the likely explanation.
Still—the old Sage took out a brush and parchment and began writing a letter to the Scryer's Guild.
He was requesting access to the Primordial treasure, Eye of Theme, to perform a deep scan of Azure Flame space—just in case.
Noughtfire had lived long enough to know that these anomalies must be investigated.
Almost always, it proved to be nothing. But Noughtfire was not interested in taking chances on his most treasured disciple's Fate.
Just then, he sensed a new aura at the base of the mountain. Zane was ambling up the winding path.
Noughtfire gave a hint of a smile, poured some tea, and waited. Soon enough, a knock came at the door.
"Come in," said Noughtfire.
Zane did, ducking to get under the beam. He gave Noughtfire a wave. Noughtfire waved back, amused.
"You're here for the treasure, I presume."
Zane nodded. "I am."
"Very well."
Noughtfire tapped his Interspatial Ring, and a chest dropped onto the table.
An onyx shell secured with platinum. Its surface was a black blacker than black, greedily drinking in all light.
"Within this chest lies the Corpse of the Skeleton Star," said Noughtfire. "It was named the Skeleton Star because any living thing that came within range of it would have its meat scoured from its body, withering until only its skeleton remained! Its light was weak in the visible plane—but devastating in the Astral."
He paused, nostrils flaring. "Such is the power of the Concept of Radiation! It breaks down and softens your enemies, making your flame that many times more devastating when it strikes. And the Skeleton Star's radiation only strengthened after death… This material."
He tapped the lid. "Voidsteel. It traps 99.99% of all essence and Law within, making a quarantine zone in miniature. Still… can you feel it?"
"Yes," said Zane. The big man was staring at the case, fascinated. "It feels… unstable."
"Indeed."
The Sage produced a lily from his Interspatial Ring. It began drooping in real-time, aging at visible speed. At first, it was young and healthy; in seconds, it was shriveling, the colors dropping out of its petals, its stem, until it was all a pale deathly white. Decades passed in seconds.
That radiation was affecting every being in the room, living or not. But its effects were especially pronounced on the living.
Noughtfire was unhurt. He knew Radiation deeply; it would not hurt him, just as no fire could burn him. The hound could not bite the master.
Zane was also unhurt—but that was because his disciple was simply an immense beacon of Vitality in the Astral Plane. It would take much more than this residual radiation to impact him.
Still—Noughtfire could see it was enough to make Zane take it seriously.
Good.
Mastering it would be among the most significant steps Zane would take in his Solar Flare.
"I've instructed your manservant to set up a quarantine zone on your home planet," said Noughtfire. "Do not open the case elsewhere. You feel less than a thousandth of its power now. At full blast, the effect is… intense."
Zane nodded. "I'll take care."
"That's all, then."
Neither of them were much for small talk—something Noughtfire rather appreciated in his new disciple.
"Thanks," said Zane. He turned to go.
"One more thing." Noughtfire stood, frowning. The lines of Fate were still on his mind… likely nothing. But just in case.
Zane looked back. "What's up?"
"The Chaos Cycle is nearing its peak," said Noughtfire gravely. "The concentration of essence and Law rises sharply, and all lines of Fate converge to a single point… this is a time where legends can be made among the forces of life. It is also a time when Monsters grow strongest. Do not let your guard down, disciple."
Zane seemed to take a moment to absorb it.
"I understand," he said at last. "I won't."
"Very well then."
He headed off.
Noughtfire frowned at the door, still thinking.
The old Sage liked certainty by nature. But it was a luxury in most critical situations; situations like those that would soon arise en masse.
He would've advised most any other disciple to wear armor at all times. Most did when going to war. But it would only impede Zane.
For those who cultivated their bodies, it was better to channel their Bloodline and Essence into their own flesh and bone, rather than an external treasure. It would always be more robust than armor of the same grade.
Very few could cultivate their bodies to a level that could equal a high-level treasure, though.
Noughtfire considered some more.
He shrugged, and turned his mind to other things.
Zane had a good head on his shoulders. Strong instincts. If worst came to worst, he could take a shot well enough.
And there was something about the man… he seemed to defy the lines of Fate, over and over. At times it was as though he could bend them to his direction, simply by virtue of his stubbornness.
Noughtfire smiled at the thought.
Yes. Zane would be just fine.
***
Treasure in hand, feeling pretty good, Zane headed on back to Stormhaven.
It was time to conquer Radiation.