Ebony had been watched since he entered the village. No matter how much Arcta liked him, the defenders of the village understood that he was the biggest security threat to them. Just letting him enter was grace on their end.

  He knew they knew. So he was grateful for the trust they have in the Thoya’s and in him to have allowed him entry.

  The person watching him closely was the one who couldn’t be named. He had a Supreme Mind Frost Spirit protecting him and his family. Ebony put a footnote for himself to find out what evolutionary rank ‘Supreme’ referred to, or if it was a different way of classification.

  Age was a good way of determining how strong an individual of a long-life species was, even more so for pure combatants. So Ebony didn’t have overconfidence against the Kings of the Frost Elves. As a species, they were far superior than the Cinderashians especially when they knew how to deal with ice magic and even mana in general. And these people were all centuries old.

  “Hello,”

  “Welcome back. You’ve gotten stronger, very quickly.”

  “Is there a name I can address you by?” Ebony wasn’t sure how to call someone who couldn’t be named without the risk of getting attacked by their guardian spirit.

  “Ah right, my apologies, how could I forget? I go by Nutash, please note only in Elvish and don’t speak of it in a Gia or Elcrian intonation or phonetic translation. Nu-Tash.” The tall Frost Elf pronounced once more.

  “I’m Ebony, I don’t think it has anything to do with our relationship but my mother is from the Shi Clan.” They might be Frost Elves on bad terms with the Elves but they still regarded Yggdrasil as their God. Whatever the case, they must not like the Xeng very much.

  “I know exactly who you are. Lord Winterborne and her Grace have informed me. We are the only ones who know, perhaps even more so than you do. Fear not, your lineage only makes you more of an ally to us Frost Elves.”

  “You are good at inciting my curiosity.”

  “Let’s just say neither of us are…qualified to discuss this openly.”

  ‘Regardless, I now know that my appearing in Hoarfrost Glades more so than Xienor has to do with Dad. Maybe a fellow user of ice? I have ice affinity almost as high as a direct combatant lineage Frost Elf. That, or some relation with Ful which is the better of my guess. Ful is much older than any of these villagers anyway.’ Ebony lips curled, perhaps Ful knew who he was from the start. If it did, it was an amazing actor.

  “I heard about Vent fighting a Saint, what is that about?” That was what he was most curious about at the moment.

  “That is Lord Winterborne for y- I suppose it doesn’t matter. That indeed happened, the Nebulians had been hiding near us for so long and Arcta didn’t have anyone to notice. Back when Lord Winterborne was the village chief he had been young and fell to the same deception but that no longer holds true. We would’ve left them alone if they hadn’t made a move against a fellow clansman but they’ve crossed the line.”

  “Because of me?”

  “A mere trigger. With the Nebulian’s extensive history, it was only a matter of time before they made creatures of Elcra their slaves and thralls, enforcing their Will upon all creatures. Their younger members are more naive, unknowing of their history but their Saints are a different story. They remember, they plot. And they would return to their old ways. As they’ve done so multiple times.”

  “I read up on their files, the one who escaped was someone called Saint Cormac Dominus and he released Saint Soltren Malric. Is Vent alright?” These were wanted criminals, they have a lot of information public on Eidolon’s forums.

  Ebony didn’t see or sense Vent around. The superior hunter might have stealth skills far beyond him so he had to ask. Whatever the reason, he knew that Vent took action partially because of him.

  “We aren’t aware of where Saint Cormac is hiding but Saint Soltren Malric is no more. Unmistakably.” A Saint is fundamentally on a different scale of life form from any creature less evolved. Ebony wondered where that confidence came from.

  King ranked monsters were hard to kill. Surviving without a heart or head for minutes to hours was not rare depending on their race, even days or weeks wasn’t a stretch. A creature’s survivability only increased vastly every evolution, it basically never decreased unless one messed with their baseline traits to a harmful degree.

  People were generally a little easier to kill compared to monsters, by the sheer difference in stats. Especially Vitality.

  People had Classes and Fortifications that may change this balance but it didn’t change that any Saint would be extremely hard to kill.

  Ebony had the growing confidence that he could survive with just a brain, regenerating his entire body with time. In the absence of interference.

  But there was no doubt in Nutash’s words, not a shred of uncertainty. That much he could tell.

  “And Vent?”

  “On the hunt.”

  ???

  “By the Decree of the Supreme Mandate, Death Relinquish me.” Cormac pulled himself away from death once again. Mandating the recovery of his body and mind for his soul to return took far less effort.

  Cormac had his Mandate warp him across space as fast as it could activate. Yet an arrow always found its way to his heart before he shook that mortal off his back.

  A blast of chilled breath escaped his lips as he caught his breath.

  Lower life forms couldn’t hope to defeat a Saint.

  Cormac was aware there were a scant few exceptions.

  For example, an old Grade 7 Emperor. They may stand a chance at assassinating some of the weakest Saints. But how many Grade 7 Emperors were there?

  One in a trillion Emperors? One in ten trillion?

  Probably less. And even then, those individuals were concentrated in Higher Being races such as the Dragons or the Elves.

  But this mortal was no Emperor. He was a mere King.

  But Cormac’s racing heart, relentless breathlessness, drenched head and thumping mind were telling him otherwise. Not even his previous slavers forced him into this state before he managed to escape.

  His recent memories proved that his fellow Nebulian Soltren had no trouble with this mortal, Elven lineage he may be.

  At least, until the lower life form pulled out a Divine Artifact.

  ‘It's not fair. Not fair! WHY! Why do they get everything! Why can’t we have anything good!’ Cormac screamed internally.

  ‘How is that mortal using a Divine Artifact…!!’ Cormac finally had a moment of breather to break free from his shock at the sudden death of Soltren. It was so obvious.

  That was no mere Frost Elf.

  Cormac’s skin crawled.

  Cold seeping into his very existence once again.

  “By the Decree of the Supreme Mandate, Frost Exile.” He was relieved for a brief moment when his body, mind and soul stopped freezing.

  Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  But the cold only set in again, even faster than before.

  “By the Decree of the Supreme Mandate, let this strike erase your essence, shatter your form, and crush your very mind.” Cormac spit below his feet.

  He didn’t have to aim. He didn’t need a weapon. He didn’t need to know where his target was.

  By Cormac’s Will, his spit would be his ‘strike’ and it shall do as he decreed.

  “By the Decree of the Supreme Mandate, let no Divine Hand reach forth. Let no Celestial powers intervene.” He snapped his fingers before casting a mandate to regenerate his fingers when they exploded into a mist of blood. Clicking his tongue at the failed Mandate, he mentally weighed his resources. ‘I can only revive myself a hundred and twelve more times unless I can buy more time to recover.’

  “With a millennium of my life, the Decree of the Supreme Mandate shall become a Transcendent Commandment. Scorch thy hunter.” He wiped the nosebleed without much thought.

  Cormac Mandated his own eyes to allow him to see where the hunter was. The hunter was running with bow and arrow in hand, mist trailed along after him.

  The large bow.

  The gleaming arrows.

  Neither were Divine Artifacts.

  ‘If he can really use a Divine Artifact as a mere King…then he must be of Divine Descent. That pair of eyes. Sensory Divine Artifact…I can’t hide. I can’t run. And I can’t kill him unless I want to face a fate worse than death. Truly unfair. Curses.’

  Despite watching the hunter across space burning in fires he created, Cormac had seen enough. They had already been reduced to him and his weaker kin.

  There was no escape this time.

  “All for a battery?” He was unwilling.

  The hunter, sectors away, heard his words. No.

  His Decree.

  The fires slowly extinguished by an unrelenting mist. No doubt, it wasn’t the hunter’s powers. There was no way a King could extinguish a Transcendent Commandment.

  Cormac didn’t have many millennia to burn to Mandate his Decree into a Commandment. This had helped him escape Demi-Gods in the past.

  “Almost two hundred years ago. The Glacial Tungsten Antler Elk, it was your people who caused it to attack Arcta. The deaths of my people…do you think you can get away with it forever?”

  Cormac couldn’t remember. Having recovered quite a bit over the last centuries, he had his lesser kin start to enforce their Will onto the creatures around them. A little bit of training so to speak. It was in their very nature to enforce their Will onto other creatures to do their bidding. That was simply their race’s way of life. Making use of their best traits.

  It was probably true then but it mattered not to Cormac.

  “That battery, if we hadn’t gone after him. You would’ve never found us. I can’t kill you. But you can’t kill me before I kill everyone else dear to you.”

  “Winter protects my people as much as it protects me.” Somehow, the hunter was suddenly just one Sector away. And he stopped to draw his bow. The arrow had always been nocked.

  “...” Cormac roared in resentment.

  “Why must we be suppressed?! Why must the Gods envy our power!? WHY US! OVER AND OVER AGAIN.”

  “There’s always someone getting in our way.” He reached an instant calm after his outburst.

  With that bow and his strength, Cormac usually wouldn’t have to worry. The arrow wouldn’t even fly past a few Worldcores much less an entire Sector.

  But his previous 4072 deaths in the past year had already proven to him that the Divine Artifact likely brought Winter wherever it laid its eyes on.

  Cormac’s very soul had been locked in Winter.

  Where Winter reaches, so does the Frost Elven Hunter’s arrows.

  Whatever the arrow touches, is what Winter has its touch upon.

  ‘Forty revivals to bring Soltren back…no, Winter has already taken him. I can’t bring him back even with a million revivals. I’ll have to give up on him for now. No more revivals...reincarnation then. Eighty revivals to reincarnate myself back as a Nebulian with my memories intact after my next death. Thirty revivals to throw this guy off my back so ‘They’ don't know where and when I’m going to reincarnate. Two more…curse that battery.’

  ‘If only I managed to recover more energy. I could’ve Mandated myself into a Demi-God temporarily…’

  It was a pity. A real shame.

  However, Cormac knew a dead end when he saw one. He seen it too many times not to recognise it.

  It was time for him to restart.

  Yet again.

  Soltren, that fool was inexperienced. But he couldn’t be blamed when the almighty Winter had already set its clutches on him.

  Cormac always had the strongest danger senses on, even if it heavily ate into his resources and slowed his entire race’s ability to recover. He spent thousands of years of his life to cast a Transcendent Commandment on himself to prevent the clutches of Winter to seep into his soul. Luckily for him, a mere King can barely use a fragment of the Divine Artifact’s power.

  It gave him a chance to survive a King borrowing the power of Winter for so long.

  There was only so much he could borrow and utilise with that mortal mind and body, Divine Descent or not.

  But Cormac underestimated how strong Winter was. He never thought an offshoot of the Elves that lost a civil war could be so strong.

  “The Gods do not fear us -- but they are jealous.” Cormac laughed with full confidence of his findings from his experience.

  The Nebulians were a superior race. Hence, they were a target for extermination.

  His belief in this statement was adamant.

  With his lead, it will only be a matter of time before they stand on top of all races as the omnipotent ones. Sadly, today wouldn’t be the beginning.

  “Transcendent Commandment. I, Saint Cormac Dominus shall be reborn once more.”

  An arrow implanted itself into his forehead but Cormac didn’t bat an eye, spending barely a sliver of energy was enough to cut his sense of pain and give himself the ability to continue Mandating even within Winter’s ticklish clutches. His upper head was instantly frozen stiff but it mattered not.

  He smirked, “still a mere mortal.”

  Cormac had the time and leeway to give lengthy, more specific mandates. Planning his location and time of rebirth and his exact conditions at birth. Winter couldn’t hear him, he was sure of that after self-crippling his entire current body forever. Self-crippling his soul to that of an Unclassed. Self-crippling his race member’s natural potential for five centuries.

  ‘A scorching desert would be ideal.’

  The last embers of his life burned at the thought of his downfall.

  ‘Him. It's all because of him. All creatures are ours to bid. A mere battery pushed my path back by millenniums when he is mine to exploit. By the Decree of the Supreme Mandate…two revivals worth can’t give him a lifetime of suffering and misery?! A mere Grandmaster…’ Cormac was disgruntled by his skill’s lack of catch when he tried to do what he did.

  He was about to die, there was no time to complain or think why a mortal’s resistance to his skills was so high. He didn’t need to know the target’s name, just his imagination would do. He was more than clear on who he was targeting.

  “By the Decree of the Supreme Mandate, Lesser Agony and Misery.” Frozen breath marked his last mandate.

  This life.

  ???

  Vent Ly placed his fingers under his eye sockets and pushed lightly. Placing the pair of eyeballs in an icy case gently.

  Looking at his fingers and hands freezing up, he knew it was time to pay the price for borrowing power beyond him.

  ???

  A head of blue with a worn-out orange feather-patterned mask.

  “Lesser.” A silent mutter heard by none but oneself. “I better be good enough for lesser.” He caressed his mask and faded into motes of crystals.

  Eying every worldcore with a dessert, “Nine-Million.”

  “Yeah?” A million whispers answered him.

  “I’m done. Give me a list of every worldcore that doesn’t have the presence of Winter.”

  “You’re done? What were you doing...Two Hundred Quintillion? When did we have so many...Aren't you supposed to be Billion?”

  “Experimenting.”

  “Fine, be that way. You know, we were getting worried. Fractions of us are disappearing every moment thanks to you. We thought we were all dead.”

  “I was dead and am going to die. We are constantly dying. I won’t make it back either,”

  “I know, I’m not even talking to the same person from the start of this conversation. How fast are you splitting yourself?”

  “Not fast enough. I suppose our time is up. This me will have to take over.”

  “Which of us?” Numerous whispers replied.

  “None of you. Go back to your duties, tell me-us that I’ve completed my experiment.” The man looked at his hands before looking over to where possible locations of a floating island would be at this time. Not being able to see was a hassle.

  ???

  Down on Elcra.

  A shiver went down Ebony’s back.

  He cocked his head and looked around, then his focus went back to tea time at the Lasil household.

  ‘I wonder what she had for dinner tonight.’ Ebony sipped on his tea. They had fantastic tea leaves.