Stoneheart (Rise To Omniscience Book 11), page 1
STONEHEART
Rise To Omniscience
Book 11
AARON OSTER
For my fans. Thank you for allowing me to return to the series that started my journey as an author.
Contents
Prologue
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
32
33
34
35
36
37
38
39
40
41
42
43
44
45
46
47
48
49
50
51
52
53
54
Epilogue
Afterword
Prologue
Dark gray clouds hung over the freezing and desolate landscape, the massive thunderheads stretching as far as the eye could see. Storms like this were commonplace this far north, though that didn’t mean they were welcome. The rolling and craggy hills were perpetually blanketed in sheets of snow and ice, bare rock showing through in places where the driving winds blew them clear.
It would be far too easy to become hopelessly lost out here, and with no access to food or any other resources, such as wood for a fire to keep warm, this area of the north would be a death sentence to anyone below rank 30, and even those who rose above it would have a difficult time in this unforgiving landscape.
The ambient temperatures were well below zero, and with the driving winds, temperatures could fall to as low as minus eighty, and in the worst cases, they went as far as minus one hundred.
In short, this area was about as inhospitable as possible. It was why the Queen of the North hadn’t bothered colonizing the area, although she’d been slowly expanding her borders, just as all the others were. The furthest settlement, City 32, was over two weeks away on foot.
The man shivered as the driving winds sent his cloak billowing out behind him, the fabric snapping and writhing, threatening to drag him off his feet. He ground his teeth together as much to stop them from chattering as showing his defiance to the elements. This part of the world had been growing steadily colder over the last decade, and he had picked a fine time to go on this excursion.
He had no choice if his plans were to succeed.
The man trekked onward, boots crunching through powdery snow as he crested yet another rise and began his descent. The wind howled and the bone-deep cold that had been with him ever since leaving his home pushed deeper. He was on the clock, and he knew it. Still, he was determined, and the fire that had stoked his initial journey kept him going.
There was also his hardy Constitution. If he’d been any weaker, he’d have succumbed weeks ago, no matter how strong his conviction. Nature had no care for one’s personal missions. It was an unfeeling monster that acted according to the will of its creator, never deviating from its course.
The man shivered again as day slowly turned to night, a bright sphere hovering overhead and illuminating the landscape so that he did not lose himself. He hadn’t rested since leaving the borders of City 32, where he’d been warned against continuing. It was foolish to travel this far north, as there was nothing of value out here. They hadn’t been able to force him to stay, and he had forged onward, heedless of their concerns.
He stumbled as a frozen chunk of stone nearly tripped him up, but he managed to keep going. To stop now would mean certain death, and he’d come too far to give in now.
A loud crack sounded in the distance, followed by the low rumble of thunder. He’d been fortunate that it hadn’t snowed too badly on his journey thus far, but the storm building overhead had been looming for several days now. He knew that if he didn’t find his destination soon, he could be hopelessly lost.
Though he was exhausted, he picked up his pace. According to the map, he should be close.
The first flakes of snow began to drift as lightning illuminated the sky above. Crackling bolts flashed through the low-hanging clouds. This was unnatural. At least, to his experience. He’d heard about these storms but had never thought he’d see one.
His quick shuffle turned into a jog and then a run as the wind suddenly gusted, threatening to tear him clean off his feet. If he were smart, he’d look for shelter, but out here, there was very little to hide behind. His best option would be to dig himself into a snow drift and hope it wasn’t blown away in the storm.
A blanket of whiteness was suddenly all around him, blotting out his view of his surroundings as the howling blizzard slammed into him with all the force of a charging Beast. He staggered as he was buffeted from all sides, the stinging flakes tearing at any exposed skin. He was lucky he’d bought some protection for his eyes, or he’d have been forced to shut them. As it was, they were all but useless.
All he could do was to keep putting one foot in front of the next.
A light splash suddenly alerted him to the change. Crouching quickly, his light flashed back into being, reflecting the dark water.
Despite himself, he smiled. He’d finally found it.
Taking a moment to shroud himself, surrounding his body with a blazing light, the man forged on ahead, shoving deeper into the freezing water until it closed around his head.
To a normal person, walking into water like this was instant death. To him, it was a relief, as it shielded him from the wind and snow.
The man took a breath, testing his apparatus. Cool air flowed into his lungs, showing him that it was working just as intended. A quick check showed him an eight-hour supply, but if he couldn’t find what he was looking for before then, he’d be a poor excuse of a man. Several spheres of light shot from his body, streaking off into the water at speeds most at rank 50 couldn’t follow.
It didn’t take long for him to get his first hit. Smiling to himself once again, he took off swimming, his skill propelling him forward as much as his arms and legs. Flows of ice floated all around him, but he ignored them as he dove deeper, finally finding his first piece. It was a small chunk of flesh encased in ice.
Why, hello there, he thought, lifting the small chunk and stashing it in the bag slung over his shoulder.
It clinked as it came into contact with the other items he’d stashed there. Several more pings came back to him. It wouldn’t be long now. He was nearly done.
He dragged himself from the water and onto a fifty-by-fifty-yard ice flow six hours later, his bag full and his body streaming water. He began to shiver almost immediately as the freezing winds tore at him.
With an effort of will, he removed the one-time-use item he’d had prepared for this occasion. It took a flare of his power to activate, and when it did, he felt almost immediate relief as a stone house formed around him, spreading nearly to the edges of the ice flow. Various tables and other contraptions appeared around him, fires flaring in multiple hearths and bringing the ambient temperature up to just below freezing in an instant. A floor formed under his feet, the wood flowing seamlessly over the ice, and the room grew warmer still.
Leaving the bag on a large table, the man stripped out of his sodden clothes, donning the dry set he’d had prepared in advance. A temporary shelter like this had cost a fortune in resources, bribes, and money. More than a few lives were lost in its acquisition, but if his calculations were correct – and they always were – it would all be well worth the effort in the end.
The man moved swiftly, lighting small fires under beakers and mixing liquids. Over the next few hours, he prepared himself for what was to come. It would be a long and arduous process – one that could not be stopped once started or the entire experiment would be a failure. Seeing as he only had enough materials for a single go, there would be no do-overs. Everything hinged on him getting this right the first time.
The man took a breath as he began arranging pieces. They’d all thawed by now, though not enough to begin decaying or decomposing. Within them, he could sense faint glimmers of power. No matter whether the flesh was alive or dead, it would always conduct some power if properly preserved, and out here in the bitter cold of the north was the greatest collection of parts.
He would have loved to revive the strongest, but this was as good as he was going to get. Besides, with the specimens he’d collected, it would be more than enough.
With everything arranged in order, the man began to work, carefully injecting various liquids into the pieces. This part took well over two hours, as there were a lot of individual parts. Once that was done, he retrieved the shining needle and thread and began to work quickly as the flesh writhed and grew, extending out into recognizable shapes. Soon, the Beast began to form. While the man worked, more of his creation came to fruition.
Finally, after what felt like ages, he pulled the final stitch and backed away. He was numb, both in body and mind, but there was one final step.
This was the part he was most nervous about. Only he could do this, but at the same time, he needed to live to bring his plans to fruition.
He would have waited for longer, trying to weigh the merits of the risk he was about to take, if not for the fragile state of his yet-to-be-born monster. With a breath, the man clutched the lever with both hands and dragged it down in a single motion.
Light like that of the blazing sun illuminated the house and power began to flood out of him in waves. The man stood there, hands locked to the lever, teeth gritted and muscles standing taut as the power was forcibly siphoned from his Core. It was a horrible feeling, like having his very life sucked out of him. Still, he maintained his hold, as the body on the table began to twitch and buck.
The Cores built into the converter disintegrated into sparkling dust in rapid succession. The converter continued to work, pumping more power into the thrashing form. The man was on the verge of collapse, when the converter began to smoke, emitting an alarming whining sound. Then, it abruptly died as the final Core tinkled to the ground in a glittering powder.
The man sagged, his entire body trembling as he heaved for breath. Slowly, he dragged himself to his feet on shaking limbs, his body protesting the very idea of moving. Still, the man refused to simply lie there when the uncertainty of his experiment was at stake.
With one final push, he was back on his feet, staring at the unmoving body on the table. For nearly an entire minute, he stared, silently willing the creature to open its eyes. It remained stubbornly still, defying his wishes. It was only when the two-minute mark passed that he began to fear that something had gone wrong in his calculations.
“Come on,” he muttered, placing a hand on the monster’s shoulder. “Wake up!”
A small spark of power flashed at the tips of his fingers, crackling over the monstrosity’s body. The man staggered back as he felt a massive surge of power the likes of which he’d never felt in all his life. Then the monster’s eyes flashed open, twin pools of burning green eldritch flames writhing within its sockets.
It had worked.
Now all he had to do was hope he lived through this experience, because, for all his calculations, there was no way of knowing what would happen when one mixed the pieces of the slain Pinnacle Kings of the Five Kingdoms together and brought them to life as a single being.
***
Darkness. Pure, endless darkness. That was all he had known for as long as he could remember. The endless void of nothingness that permeated his very existence. He might have expected pain, anguish, or some other form of penance, but the darkness was his only companion throughout it all.
Then, a light flickered at the corners of his consciousness, interrupting the endless black, and with it, came a whisper of sound.
Sound? Light?
The darkness retreated instantly as his eyes flashed open, the memories of his past existence vanishing as his surroundings came into view.
He was awake.
Alive.
This was impossible, and yet, here he was. Unless this was to finally be his punishment. Fingers flexed as his chest expanded, damp air rushing into his lungs. It felt nice.
Nice?
Something was wrong. Very wrong.
He sat bolt upright. There were no chains binding him and he could sense the power of his Core burning freely.
Core? Shouldn’t I have two?
He looked down at himself and his frown deepened. His hands were different. One was white-furred and clawed, while the other was gray-skinned, like that of a shark. Long, black talons extended from the tips, and when he flexed his fingers, they vanished.
“Finally awake, I see.”
He turned quickly, surprised that someone had managed to sneak up on him, but that was no bother. He could just kill them and make them his newest minion.
Or, wait…his thoughts came to a halt.
Could he? He’d already been killed.
He frowned again.
She’d already been killed.
No, that didn’t feel right. He was definitely a male, so why had that thought popped into his head? The Ruler of the Kings was male.
But was he the Ruler of the Kings?
“I can understand your confusion,” the man spoke again.
The Beast turned quickly, unfamiliar power blazing in his Core.
“Speak, creature,” he said, his mental voice sounding familiar and unfamiliar at the same time.
“Firstly, let me begin by saying what an honor it is to finally meet you,” the man said, with a sweeping bow. “I have heard many tales of your ferocity and might, yet I never bore personal witness to them in my lifetime.”
“Yes, I am powerful,” he said flexing the unfamiliar hand.
That much was obvious. No one was as strong as he was – but he’d still died many times.
He clutched his head as memories assaulted him unbidden, the piercing pains of multiple deaths ripping through him all at once. He sat there for several moments with his teeth gritted as the agony subsided to a dull throb.
“Who am I?” he asked, turning his gaze upon the man once more.
“Who do you think you are?” asked the man in way of reply.
He thought about it for a few moments. He thought he was many, though one definitely stood out among the rest. It wasn’t entirely him, and he knew it.
“I feel like Octagon the Bitter, Pinnacle King of Winter,” he replied. “Yet, at the same time, I do not feel entirely myself.”
This was obvious from the increased intelligence and knowledge, as well as the burning Core of blazing green within his chest. He could see the pools of burning green reflected back to him through this man’s eyes. He was not himself, but he felt to be mostly Octagon.
“Well, that would make sense,” the man said. “You are mostly made up of Octagon. Probably sixty percent. The rest is made up of the parts of the others. In short, I collected the pieces of your fallen brothers and sisters and brought you back as a single entity.”
Octagon stared at the man for several moments. What he spoke of was impossible. No one but the gods had the power to revive the dead, and there was no mistaking that he – and all the others – had been dead.
“How?”
“That Core burning in your chest is special,” the man said. “There is no word for it in your language, but I will do my best translation. My people call it a Stoneheart. A Core that is bound to the body and spirit, yet at the same time remains unbound. It is an extremely complicated process but suffice it to say that your capacity will not be diminished in the slightest, though your Core ability may have changed.”
Could it really be different?
Octagon pulled his information up, scanning over his new status and the changes wrought by his revivification. For the first time, he felt a smile curling the corners of his lips. He could work with this.
“How long has it been since we were defeated?” he asked, turning back to the man. “How has the world changed in our absence?”
“It’s been fifteen years since the last of you fell,” the man said. “The world is advancing rapidly. The continent has grown and expansion is on the rise. The Central Kingdom has become New Faeland, a place where the five races of the destroyed continent of Faeland now occupy. It’s been largely peaceful without an existential threat to our society as a whole.”
“What of the Beast King?”
“Who?”
“Morgan?” Octagon asked, feeling his lip curl at the mention of the accursed man.
He felt nothing but hatred toward the man. At least, that was what he told himself. In truth, there was another emotion, one burned into the very essence of his being.
Fear.
Pure, unadulterated fear at what the man had done to all of them. If another fifteen years had passed since the last of them fell, how much more powerful would he have become?
“Oh, him,” the man said, his face twisting into a sour expression. “The so-called savior of all sentient peoples. He hasn’t been seen in public in well over ten years, though I’m afraid he’s still very much alive and worshipped as some sort of deity by more than a few.”
Octagon immediately reigned in his power, pulling the spreading tendrils back into himself, so as not to attract the Beast King’s attention.
