Path of the Slayer B3 66. Roots & Ancestors

We left the clinic behind. We left Steel Blitz City behind. We made our way through multiple forests, over little mountains, and across a diminutive ocean of the small World Realm. It didn’t take us long to find our next Portal in the middle of some prairies.

A squad of adventurers was preparing to enter the Challenge Realm when our arrival shocked them out of their formation. I didn’t blame them. All of us could move at sonic speeds even while regressed by our own Personal Parameters.

We weren’t the only sudden appearance. A man adorned in a robe of ruby and gold arrived out of thin air. He had a short sword inside a brown scabbard on his hip, and the scowl on his face almost seemed permanent.

“God Emperor,” I said, smirking.

“Arden the Nomad,” replied the God of my old Realm. “Heading to the Grand Generational Passing, are you?”

“Sounds about right.”

“Hm. Well. I hope you continue to outdo all predictions. Your success has borne me quite some fruit despite your rebellious nature.”

There was a lot I could say. There were a few urges bubbling from within. But for once, I bit back the attitude and played along.

“God Emperor, bear witness. Under your might, I pray, so be it.” The toothy smile on my face was a mean one.

“So be it, Ninja King.” He smirked smugly at me and disappeared. I turned and looked at all the prostrating adventurers. Shaking my head, I wished them luck, and walked into the Challenge Portal with my party.

***

We got a fire going. A big one. Expensive, too.

I sacrificed as much high-ranked furniture I could get away with in a Rank 3 Realm. The ceremonial flames shone brightly from a high cliff overlooking rolling prairies filled with colorful tall grass.

Griffins cried out while soaring in circles in a twilight sky filled with diamond light at the center. On the edges, the horizon held colorful sunset bands, like a godly artist had stroked their paintbrush with it doused in oranges, yellows, purples, and deep blues.

The adventurers were down there in the long grass, fighting off monsters, doing their best to ignore me as I grew the bonfire.

I was singing too. Sometimes in a low, guttural way, using a language I’d never heard before. A language even my Personal Parameters wouldn’t translate for me. But after reading, rereading, and absorbing all I could from Britta’s journal, it turned out the answers I sought were deeper inside the roots.

I just had to cultivate them further.

The humming, merry, energetic flow happening with my cultivator gates and my cultivator core became my focal points. The more my energy looped and looped with the help of this specialized skill, the more my awareness looped in and out of my ancestral roots.

As that happened, I hopped, skipped, and threw aside all strict pretenses of being rational, logical, and emotionless. I laughed. I cheered. And I danced around the fire as I tossed in more fragments of luxurious materials, burning as much earthly possessions as I could, before taking out the alcohol.

“The alcohol too?” Merlin squeaked as I made another circuit around the bonfire near him.

“Yes, the alcohol, too! Drink up! Pour one! Pour two! Pour whatever! Let loose for the ones who aren’t here with us on the earth but there in the roots!!”

Down went some whiskey. Down went some gin. Down went some rum. I sampled it all before pouring into the blaze. Hungry embers belched, crackled, and rolled greedily toward me to suckle from the bottles themselves. I laughed, tip-toeing out of the reach of the flames by a hairbreadth, because this, too, was part of the ceremony.

“Should we offer food?” Grimmy asked as I made another circuit next to her.

“Go for it! Eat as much as you want. Satisfy yourself. Then let it go for the ones who aren’t here in the flesh but there in the roots!”

Nothing went into the flames without applying my Slayer Feast. My laughter only grew more boisterous as Grimmy struggled to stop eating the delicious food before making her offering. Then she got better at it, sampling and tossing. Merlin struggled the most, so I happily came around to take his plates and throw them into the dancing flames.

“Something tells me we have to dance, too, don’t we? I can if you want me to. But I honestly rather not. This is a lot for me,” Thumper muttered.

“Then don’t dance. Do nothing. But if you want to dance, dance! If you want to sing, sing! Welcome to the cookout! Just cut loose and be here while those in the roots witness us!”

Thumper fell silent, his body slouched while sitting on the ground like the others. His waterfall of raven hair, his way of hiding his royal features, remained as he turned his head this way and that to follow my manic movements.

None of them had seen this version of me. I’d never seen this version either. It was freeing, really, even if for this moment.

How many of us live our lives without cutting loose? How many of us spend every day under constant pressure, forcing ourselves to exist within walls that weren’t cut to fit us? How many of us spend every waking second of our lives existing in a lie because we were afraid of the judgment of others? Or the persecution of others?

Fuck that!

Not today!

I drank. I ate. I danced with the flames. I cultivated my energy, my spirit, my soul, my ancestral roots. And the roots grew. Not by much at first. But enough for me to feel them reach out further.

So I committed further. Drinking, eating, dancing, giving to the flames, and singing another song in a language that was both alien and familiar, both sorrowful and home-felt.

My core rotated. My gates spiraled faster. My roots grew a little further.

“Keep going, Arden,” Britta said, her voice reaching me through the roots.

I nearly stumbled to a stop. But then I burst out into laughter and kept going. I wasn’t alone after all. Doomie followed my steps like my own shadow.

She copied me. She drank. She ate. She danced. She sang silent songs. She played keep-away with the grasping frames. And her roots grew fast, alarmingly fast. I could hear her singing through the roots.

Her voice reminded me of Melody’s with my way of phrasing.

Grimmy joined us after she had enough to eat and drink. Merlin drank and drank and drank until he couldn’t stay still. Then he stumbled around the fire, with a bottle in one hand, and his other hand throwing up fireworks and colorful sparks.

He tried to copy my song, failed at it, and nearly stopped until I slapped him on the shoulder and urged him to keep going. He butchered it thoroughly, but as we repeated ourselves, he forced himself to learn with sheer willpower and Path Energy.

Thumper kept watching us go around and around the fire.

“I can’t lose control,” he whimpered. “I can’t lose control. I can’t. I can’t be me. I can’t, I can’t, I can’t.”

He rocked back and forth as we rounded and rounded the bonfire. Merlin offered a hand, and Thumper shook his head. Grimmy offered both hands, and Thumper flinched away.

I tackled him. We rolled. I laughed, landing on my back, while looking up at a slobbering maw filled with large teeth that could bite my head off. I stuffed my hand into the wolf’s maw, and he snapped his jaws shut, piercing flesh, drawing blood, breaking bone. But I didn’t cry. I didn’t jerk back. I grabbed him by the cuff and pulled him closer.

“My flesh. My blood. Even my bones. If you need it, it’s yours. Now come, brother. The fire is warm. And you are welcomed.”

Thumper’s savage growls dimmed, becoming fretful whimpers. He slowly released my mangled arm and looked down at me with a wolf-like frown.

I kept smiling as I wriggled out from under him, my injured arm throbbing until I healed it somewhat, but not all the way. I kept the bite wounds for now. I waved at him to join the ceremony.

Hesitating a little longer, he pulled at his long strands of blond hair. He looked toward the nearest twilight forest, as if contemplating an escape.

Then Merlin crashed into his arm and yanked at him. Grimmy grabbed the same arm and helped the dwelf pull Thumper to the bonfire. Then Doomie joined in, offering food and drink.

Shifting Wolf Pounces Prey kept its Bloodline grip on Thumper. But he slowly grew more comfortable as we tossed him food and drink.

An hour later, he was prancing around on all fours, tongue lolling out. He howled his part of the song we were singing again and again as we circled around the dancing bonfire.

Our tempo picked up. Our offerings ran dry, yet the bonfire took on a life of its own. I saw Britta dancing in the flames, and whether that was madness or nomad passion, there was only one way to find out.

I stopped, feet spread apart, arms wide. “Domain! Ancestral Sphere! Enhanced Spirit! I’ll Keep Going!”

I felt 1000% of my Path Energy wink away instantly. My Domain solidified. A crack of thunder passed overhead. The twilight faded. The night engulfed us. My roots erupted out of me, growing, becoming denser, becoming more visible, showing Grimmy, Merlin, and Thumper just a piece of what made nomads special.

The same came out of Doomie, her ancestral roots twisting and entwining around mine. They didn’t get in each other’s way. They couldn’t. We shared the power of the roots between us and every nomad. And as we sang and danced, other nomads across the Realm Verse took notice.

Seraphina stopped doing paperwork in her office. She activated the silencing enchantments, locked the door, and joined us in song. Her roots grew a little at a time.

Back in the Crossroads Citadel Realm, Turak set down the bundle of beams he was carrying while helping an elderly couple fix their barn. He turned in the direction where he felt my ceremony. The former half-orc cultist closed his eyes, smiled, and sang along with me and Doomie.

On the higher floors above, the half-gob woman who’d given me those delicious shawarmas caught on even faster. She laughed, clapped, and sang along.

Then there were other nomads from other Realms, many I’d never met before, and some I’d met briefly, like the one who served under the Dragon Princess. He stopped whatever he was doing to bob along and hum.

Then there was her. A prominent figure among the nomads. More prominent than I’d ever realized. Britta used the roots to appear in the flames and manifest an avatar of herself like a nomad goddess.

Thumper stopped first, leading to Grimmy and Merlin crashing into him. The three gawked drunkenly as I took Britta’s flame-avatar hand and spun her into a rhythmic dance around me.

As we carried on around the bonfire, a row of drums sounded out at once. We rounded again, and the drums sounded out again. Then the drumbeat sped up, giving us direction, adding more to our roots, inviting more nomads, mostly the living.

Then, even the dead.

“Royce!” I roared.

“The one and only.”

He walked out of the flames, looking more alive than dead while finely dressed like the prince of whores. Then he grabbed his head and tipped it like a hat. The neck parted clean and without blood, a grisly greeting that only got a laugh out of me.

He laughed in return. “My man, Arden. From how hard you were trying to become the perfect imperial, you really turned around and became the most radical nomad. Welcome home, brother.”

“It’s good to be home, brother. Also, fuck you and the donkey you rode on.” I gave him the same kick he’d given me.

His eyes popped wide open like a funnily drawn caricature before he flew into the flames and erupted. Britta’s flaming avatar clapped her supple thigh and laughed along with me.

There was more where Royce had come from.

First a dozen. Then a couple dozen. Then over a hundred. Spirits of the ancestors joined us from the bonfire. They sang. They played instruments in sync with others. They cajoled and thanked us for the offerings. The roots inside of me expanded further, and so did the roots inside of Doomie as she played with other childish nomad spirits.

The volume of our celebration rose. The fire roared louder. The music crescendoed. Our unified singing went uninterrupted. It grew undeniable and unbreakable as more nomads joined us from all across the Realm Verse.

Then something dangerous caught my attention, and I stopped, and so did everyone else. We were all one, our roots aligned in perfect synchrony. We all faced whatever lurked in the dark beyond the fire. We waited.

The stillness offered nothing at first.

Then we heard a heavy stomp coming forward. Then another heavy stomp forward. I watched as the bonfire reflected on a large metallic form that was hard to distinguish at first. The darkness seemed to stick to its form as the scent of blood and rust grew.

Yet, I waited and watched as the thing kept approaching, one heavy, metallic step at a time. Then it stopped at the edge between the light and the darkness.

I smiled one of my biggest smiles. “You can join, too. You’re the other half of my ancestry.”

“Maybe another time, Young Slayer. But for now, we shall wait and prepare,” said Paige, the spirit this time, not the construct. The Elder Slayer slowly receded out of sight, one heavy step at a time, her nine-foot-frame a haunting memory lurking in the darkness.

The nomad spirits of our ancestors and the nomads tuning in from across the Realm Verse all shared a look. Then we collectively shrugged and carried on with our fun. It was safe to say that no matter whose side the nomads were on, nobody was going to snitch on me.

At some point, I summoned V. He didn’t get a word in. A mob of ancestors landed on his back and straightened out his spine with their combined might. Every pop from the big guy’s vertebra was on beat with our music.

The squeal V made would follow me in this life or the next. He looked ten thousand years younger by the time I dismissed him.

The ceremony kept going. It didn’t stop until the bonfire burned out, then I collapsed in a daze before unconsciousness took me.

When I woke up again, there was one day left before the Grand Generational Passing. A killer hangover made me want to stay sitting on the grass. My ancestral roots flared with power beyond my System Profile. My attention turned to another point of the ancestral roots, no matter how small.

Merlin was lying on his back, his face turned to me, green eyes blinking slowly. He looked like he was seeing me for the first time again.

I chuckled. “You had quite the fall there, brother. Need a helping hand or another bottle?”

He grinned. “You know me too well, brother. I’m always in need of both.”

“Wait!” Grimmy grouched, sitting up groggily. “Do I still say Master Arden?”

I knew the answer to that without having to check. “You serve no master, sister. You serve a brother. And I’ll serve you in return.”

Grimmy blinked and checked her profile. “Oh! OH! It changed! It says I’LL HONOR MY FAMILY! It has you and Doomie’s names as my grandest family.”

“So that confirms things for sure,” Thumper murmured, back to being human. “That’s why Arden’s able to do so many weird things. It’s mostly because he’s a nomad on that secret Path of his. And now that we’re nomads, too, that means we can do the same.”

“YES!” Merlin roared. “I can finally get my Path Magic sorted! Huzzah for Arden being Arden!”

Interrupting our post-ceremony celebration, the Demigod Assassin appeared above me. He drew a deadly shadow as he emitted an air of menace. I stayed sitting, smiling up at him.

“Is it true?” the Demigod asked. “Are you him?”

My smile beamed brighter. “It’s true. I’m him.”

“Fuck off. You’re on your own.” The Demigod disappeared.

“Huh? What?” Merlin blinked tiredly.

“The truth came out during the ceremony,” I said. “Weren’t you paying attention?” 

Merlin gawked at me. “How can I pay attention when I was drunk and there were ghost hotties dancing all over me like I was in a rap video?! That’s not spiritual incest or anything is it?”

“On the ancestors, Merlin, you’re too much,” Thumper muttered, palming his face.

“It’s fine, it’s fine. The answer is simple. Being kin of the roots is far different from being kin of blood. The latter is just gross when crossing boundaries.” I laughed. “Anyway, the Grand Generational Passing is right next door. You and everyone else are going to find out real soon what my true Path is.”

Merlin pointed at me. “Nomad King?”

“I just want it on the record that our wizarding brother here is the slowest of us,” Thumper said.

“I’m smarter than a wizard! I’m the big brain sister!” Grimmy cheered.

A message passed through all our roots. It came from Doomie, who was waking out of the still-hot cinders from the bonfire.

Doomie knew the truth. She believed herself smarter than the wizard, too.

“Have mercy! At least marinate me before you roast me alive,” Merlin grouched.