Sins of the Forefathers: A LitRPG Fantasy Isekai

My steps echoed oddly loud as I stepped into the ruined courtyard where Tlazo and Nerexxa had stood, only moments ago. It was silent in this section of the city, with the scouring of all of the Revenants by their very own source. I deliberately approached the smooth, nearly mirror-polished section of stone where Tlazo had floated, because I saw something.

His staff.

Somehow, Tlazo’s wooden ebony staff, with its amber-colored crystal glowing faintly in the artificial night, had survived his destruction. Without turning to look behind me at the monstrous existence I could feel boring down on me, I bent at the waist to touch it. The moment my fingers brushed its surface, I felt a very real chill run down my spine.

But…it wasn’t an ominous one. Instead, the magical instrument emanated a peace and stillness that embodied the silence of the grave, over the uncertainty of the void. It was the acceptance of death and its consequences, and not the fear of the unknown.

This wasn’t a weapon that would hurt me.

The opposite, really.

My aching, wounded soul immediately felt bolstered by the might of the staff, and I was able to withstand the full attention of the Godbound much, much better. My fingers curled around the staff, and I picked it up. I straightened and finally turned to face the behemoth at my back.

I nearly quailed at the attention it was directing down at me.

When I had first seen the Godbound on the horizon, after exiting Tlazo’s lab, the creature had looked to be nearly resting as it focused on attuning the Portal Stone. It was clearly still doing so, from the spiral of murk that reached into the sky, originating from in between its legs. Deep in the center of that tornado, I could faintly see the actual Portal Stone, so similar in appearance to the one I had met Fade behind. But now, the Godbound wasn’t resting anymore.

Instead, it had shifted its titanic arms forward to rest on its arms, and leaned over to look downward at the courtyard. Its head was poking through the stream of smoke that was enveloping the Portal Stone, now. The murk was rushing past its scaled head, curling around gargantuan chiropteran features and casting them in an even more demonic light.

Its eyes were open.

They were as equally massive as the rest of it, and were crimson red in color. The entire eye, in fact. There was no delineation between an iris, or a pupil, or a sclera. There was nothing to focus on, or to tell what it was focusing on.

Just an endless expanse of blood that gazed out at the world it was corrupting with its very presence.

And yet, somehow I knew I had its full attention.

I took a deep, shuddering breath, and did something potentially foolish.

I cast Observe on the creature.

But…for the first time since I had acquired the Skill…it completely failed. Somehow, the ability wasn’t able to quantify a single thing about the Godbound that loomed over me like a monument. It was like the Skill...just slid off of it.

But the Godbound still noticed.

THERE IS NO NEED.

I…AM RHAZAL.

THE HARROWER.

FATHER OF MONSTROSITY.

HE WHO DENIES.

AND YOU…

ARE A BLADE IN THE DARK.

NAME THYSELF, BLADE.

My grip tightening on the staff held in my remaining hand, I decided to answer the thing. After all, what else could I do? “My name…is Nathaniel Eugene Hart,” I said slowly. “You know what I am.” I wasn’t even asking a question. It was just something I had noticed, about most of the old powers I’d met, sans Nerexxa. Nearly all of them had some way of telling that I was a Precursor. Maybe it was something inherent to my soul that tipped them off, but I had no way of knowing.

But there was no point denying it.

And Rhazal didn’t either.

I DO.

NATHANIEL…EUGENE…HART.

PRECURSOR.

Each utterance of each part of my name felt like a blow against my spirit. I nearly doubled over, leaning heavily on my borrowed staff. But I withstood it.

Somehow.

Abruptly, Rhazal leaned back in his makeshift throne, head retreating beyond the smog of its attunement. The sound of scales grinding against stone echoed out across the entirety of both cities, briefly sending up an answering cry from the Revenants assaulting them even now. Somehow that reverberating screech echoed out from the city and reached me, even here.

But I could still see those horrible eyes focusing on me, piercing through the gloom like red hot coals.

I WOULD TREAT WITH YOU, PRECURSOR.

DO NOT RESIST.

Before I could even ask what it was talking about, Rhazal twitched one massive finger. A curl of smoke speared down from the sky, closing in on me. For a moment, I feared that I was about to be disintegrated in much the same way that Tlazo had been.

But no, instead of attacking me, the smoke poured around my feet, forming into what looked like a platform. I stumbled slightly, when the makeshift platform began to rise into the sky, taking me with it.

In the direction of Rhazal.

My ferry went right through the column that spiraled from the Portal Stone, and I was briefly able to see it below me as I was carried closer to the Godbound. But that only lasted a moment, and afterward, I was brought resting, floating before the face of Rhazal.

Somehow, it was more horrifying up close than it was from far away. Now I could see the utter indifference it held for the world, etched on its scaled features.

Even I was only of minor interest to the titan.

Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Rhazal’s gargantuan right arm rise from its resting place on a ruined keep tower. Ponderously, it extended a finger and brought it upwards to hover to the side of my smoky terrace.

God, a single talon alone was bigger than I was.

LAY YOUR HAND UPON MINE, PRECURSOR.

AND WE SHALL PARLEY, IN A MORE…FITTING MANNER.

For a wild moment, I wanted to deny ‘He Who Denies’. I wanted to draw my Oninite blade, ignite it with The Scintillant Blade, and drive into the monstrous finger that hovered so near to me. Why should I do anything this ancient horror wanted me to do? I had no idea what it wanted to do to me! For all I knew, Rhazal was about to eat my fucking soul or something! I was tempted to take my chances on my most powerful Skill, and hope it had some kind of titan-slaying mechanism that I had just never discovered.

But…

A glint on the horizon caught my eye.

Far off into the distance and over the barest sliver of ocean that the murk had yet to reach, I saw it.

Or rather...her.

A flash of silvery moonlight, swallowed only moments later by the ever-expanding gloom.

Something told me…my chance had yet to come.

I breathed deep, switched and cradled the haft of my borrowed staff into the crook of what was left of my left arm, and reached out with my right.

The moment the fingers of my hand touched the scales of Rhazals, the world fell away.

Into darkness.

But…this was an almost familiar darkness. I had seen it only a few hours ago, after my fall.

This…this almost looked like the blackness of that realm I had spoken to Elys and the serpent in. But…more so, somehow.

The gloom which surrounded me was more reminiscent of Rhazal’s own smoke, over that of the nearly comforting darkness of earlier. It swirled all around me, charged with Aether baring the near scent of Rhazals own suffocating might.

Was…I physically here? It felt like it, compared to my experience with the serpent and the moon. I was still wearing my battered and bloody Loyalist armor, and was still missing my arm. My eyesight was still cut in half, as well.

Plus, Tlazo’s staff had followed along. It was still cradled in the crook of my missing arm. I slowly transferred it back to my good hand, looking around as I did so.

What was going on? I had expected Rhazal’s booming voice to echo out from the gloom once again, but nothing had happened yet.

I wasn’t expecting what did.

The amber stone at the apex of my temporary staff suddenly started to glow softly. Deep in the core of it, I saw a faint green light emanate outwards.

A voice pierced the silence.

A familiar one.

“Well, this is a fine mess you’ve gotten yourself into,” A dry, sarcastic voice echoed out of the amber.

I looked at the gleaming amber in shock. “Tlazo…?” I murmured, suspicious despite myself.

Was this a trick from Rhazal?

“Indeed,” The voice of the Lich returned. “I see that you had the sense take up my staff. And yet, did not have the sense to reject an invitation from a Calamity into their own personal section of the Concord.”

“Concord?” I muttered, before shaking it off. “How…are you talking to me? Aren’t you, you know, dead?” I winced a moment later, already suspecting what his answer would be.

Sure enough…

“I’ve been dead since before you were born, child,” Tlazo answered dryly. “But to answer your question, I have been banished back to my phylactery. However, said phylactery is constructed from the same soul-touched material as the keystone of my stave. Thus, through Aetherial synchronicity, I can touch upon the stave lightly enough for my voice to be heard, here in the Concord. Which you appear to be inside of. Physically.” He paused for a moment. “Honestly, I thought only Greater Spirits could do that. I suppose you learn something new every day.”

“And…you’re alright?” I asked hesitantly.

“I’ll be fine,” The Lich answered dismissively. “It’ll take me a few years to reconstitute myself, but that’s only a minor inconvenience. You, however, should worry about yourself. I’m not the one at the mercy of a Calamity.”

“But…what’s the Concord?” I continued, still confused about what was going on.

“No time,” Tlazo said, abruptly serious. “I can tell that he’s almost done shaping. I’ll do my best to guide you through this, but I can’t speak too often. In this place, and in his own realm, the Godbound is even more deific than usual. If I act too often he’ll know. We’re both screwed then. Good luck, and remember I’m still here, Nathaniel.”

At that, the glow from inside of the amber went dark, and with it went Tlazo’s voice. I would have tried to ask him more questions about what was happening, but I was distracted by something else.

Slowly, colors started to creep in through the Aether-charged mists of the ‘Concord’, whatever that was. First reds, and then greens and blues. And then yellows, and oranges, and purples until the full spectrum of the wheel painted the ethereal world I stood in. Then, ever more and more, the murk around me began to twist and shape itself, solidifying as it did.

It…was almost like a world was being born around me.

At first, I didn’t recognize it what it was. But when I did…

I slumped to my knees in disbelief, tears welling up in my eyes and streaming down my dirt-encrusted face.

This…this was Earth.

I knelt on the asphalt of a familiar little two-lane road that cut through a familiar place, back home in Texas. Overhead, a summer sun shined down on the world from a clear blue sky, warming me to my very bones and casting heat hazes in the distance. Old, working-class family homes lined both sides of the street, painted and constructed in dozens of different styles, each of them well-loved by their owners. A mix of green and brown grass tainted the lawns of each and every one of those homes, as the oppressive heat of the summer sun drove the turf to the brink of death despite the best efforts of myriad sprinklers. Trucks and SUV’s and sedans of varying sizes rested, lonely and abandoned, on the white concrete of oh-so-many driveways. A hot breeze blew through the quiet, bringing with it a familiar tang, carried upon fallen leaves. I breathed deep, and held in the scent of the old oaks planted in the lawns of my childhood neighborhood oh so long ago.

I couldn’t stop the tears that ran in rivulets down my face, cutting a path through the blood and grime.

Home.

This…was my home.