Re-Awakening: I Ascend with a Legendary class

Chapter 806: What The Year Was Worth

The gates did not close quietly.

That was the first thing anyone learned on the final day, and they learned it at the hundred and fortieth hour when the western breach, already half-shrunk, convulsed and vomited out everything it had left in a single unbroken surge.

”It’s emptying,” Marcus called. ”All seven of them. Whatever’s on the other side is coming through now or not at all.”

”Then we hold for one more day,” Rudra said. ”Same as we held for five.”

It was not the same, and everyone knew it.

The last day was the hardest fighting of the entire event, and it was hard in a way the first five days had not been.

There was no coordination now. Nothing directing the gates, nothing adapting, nothing watching. What came through came through blind and desperate and in numbers that had no strategy behind them at all, which meant the Gutwrack Span stopped being a defensive problem and became a volume problem.

Silvester and Hiroshi’s position on the flats took the worst of it again. They had held that ground for five days, fallen back twice, retaken it twice, and on the final day they simply refused to give it up a third time.

They were not alone in that. Natalia’s group split across the two positions either side of them, and for the last eighteen hours the three positions fought as one long line rather than three separate holds, Marcus feeding corrections to all of it from the center.

Noah’s blade broke at the hundred and forty-ninth hour. He finished the fight with a replacement pulled off a dead grey soldier and did not mention it to anyone until afterward.

Jian’s ribs, which had been cracked since the Ashfall Basin and worse since the evacuation column, finally stopped hurting somewhere in the last day. Kayla told him plainly that this was not a good sign, and he went back to the line anyway.

”How many?” Hiroshi asked, somewhere in the hundred and fifty-fourth hour.

”Don’t count,” Silvester said. ”Counting makes it worse.”

”I’ve been counting.”

”I know. I said don’t.”

”Four thousand, roughly. Across the week. Just this position.”

Silvester was quiet for a moment.

”That’s worse,” he said.

”Told you.”

Ainen’s kitchen ran the whole final day without a single break.

He had nothing left of the great offering, which had been spent entirely on ninety-seven guests who never got to finish it, so he built from scratch again out of whatever the last day’s killing brought him.

It was not his best work. He said so himself, repeatedly, to anyone who would listen, and nobody who ate it cared in the slightest.

Kayla worked beside him for the last twelve hours, the two of them running what amounted to a single combined operation, Edenroot and Grand Table feeding into each other until it stopped being obvious where one person’s work ended and the other’s began.

”You should have been doing this the whole event,” Kayla said.

”I was doing this the whole event.”

”Together, I mean.”

Ainen considered that, hands still moving.

”Yes,” he admitted. ”We should have.”

The last gate closed at the hundred and sixty-eighth hour.

The western breach, which had been the first to open and the most stubborn to shrink, finally collapsed in on itself with a sound like a held breath finally released, and the Gutwrack Span went quiet for the first time in seven days.

Nobody moved for a long moment. Four hundred people stood on broken ground across twenty miles of ruined sector and simply listened to nothing happening.

”Is that it?” Emma asked. Her voice sounded very small.

”That’s it,” Marcus said.

Then the event board updated, and the numbers landed all at once.

[World-Ending Event: Year-End Convergence. COMPLETE.]

[Sector: The Gutwrack Span. Breach points held: 7 of 7. Sector integrity: maintained.]

[Final sector ranking: 1st of all active sectors.]

[Emergency tasks answered: 2. Emergency tasks declined: 1.]

[Contribution: Year-End scale, maximum tier.]

[Kingdom Leaderboard Update: Ananta Regalon now ranks 31st.]

Marcus read the last line out loud twice, because the first time nobody believed him.

Seventy-eighth to thirty-first. In seven days.

”That’s forty-seven places,” Natalia said.

”That’s forty-seven places,” Marcus agreed.

”In one event.”

”John said it happens. I don’t think I believed him.”

The casualty count came in with it, and it was the number that actually mattered.

Two hundred and eleven wounded across seven days, thirty-one of them seriously. Four with injuries that would take months rather than weeks. Kayla had been on her feet for a hundred and sixty of the last hundred and sixty-eight hours.

Dead: none.

Marcus checked it three separate ways before he let himself say it.

”Nobody died,” he said. ”Seven days, seven gates, three encounters with that thing, and nobody died.”

Big D, who had held the seventh gate with the main army for the entire event and had said very little across the whole of it, finally spoke.

”Then we did it right,” he said. ”That’s the only line on that board that ever mattered. The rest is decoration.”

Nobody disagreed.

The Skytheum representative introduced herself an hour after the event closed.

She had been holding a position on the northern ridge for five days under a Regalon banner, fighting beside Julian and Jian, eating Ainen’s food, taking her turn in the rotation like everyone else. Her name, as far as anyone had known, was Vess, and she had said she was a transfer from a collapsed kingdom looking for a place to stand.

”You’ve been here the whole time,” Julian said, when she told them.

”That was the point,” Vess said. ”Observing from a distance tells you what a kingdom does when it knows it’s watched. I wanted to know what you do when you think nobody is.”

”And?”

Vess considered the question seriously, which was somehow worse than if she hadn’t.

”You declined Sector 9,” she said. ”Eleven kingdoms did. Nine of them declined because the math was bad. You declined because the math was bad and then spent the next four days visibly unable to stop thinking about it.” She glanced at Almond. ”That distinction is the entire reason I’m still standing here instead of having left on day two.”

”Is that a compliment?”

”It’s an observation,” Vess said. ”Skytheum will be in contact. I don’t know what they’ll offer. I only report what I saw.”

She left the way she’d arrived, without ceremony, and the family stood there afterward trying to work out how they felt about having been watched for five days by someone who had shared their food.

”I liked her,” Emma said eventually.

”That was probably also the point,” Lily said.

They went home at the hundred and seventy-second hour.

The pocket world under the Virion Iridant Tree took four hundred exhausted people back the way it always did, and the first thing almost all of them did was sleep.

Not Ainen. Ainen cooked one more meal, the first one in seven days made entirely out of ordinary ingredients from their own stores, nothing harvested off a corpse, nothing compressed through Cellar Aged, nothing that needed Spiceweave to make sure it wasn’t poisonous.

It was simple food. It was the best thing anyone had eaten all week.

”This is what I actually do,” he said, to nobody in particular, watching people eat it. ”The rest of it was just what the week needed.”

Then he slept for nineteen hours.

Three things arrived over the following days.

The first was from Veruhn, a formal declaration of alliance, unprompted and unconditional, signed by a kingdom ranked well above Ananta Regalon that had made no secret of why.

The second was from Ondrast, less formal and more practical, an offer of trade and mutual defense that Theo and Paloma spent a week negotiating into something genuinely useful.

The third was a system notice, and it came to Lily, Rudra, and Ainen individually.

[Year-End contribution threshold met.]

[Deck-modification attempt granted.]

Rudra read his, then looked up.

”We each have one,” he said.

”We each have one,” Lily agreed.

Ainen was still asleep, and found out eleven hours later, and his reaction was loud enough to wake two people in the next building.

Almond found Lily on the gathering ground that evening, both of them awake before anyone else, both of them not entirely sure why.

”You’ve been quiet,” he said.

”I’ve been thinking about the name.”

Almond waited.

”It’s not gone,” Lily said. ”I want to be clear about that. We didn’t kill it. We destroyed three shapes it was wearing and it ran out of the fourth one before it finished making it, and that’s not the same thing.”

”I know.”

”It said something, the first time.” Lily’s eyes stayed on the dark treeline. ”It said the answer is consistent across every world it has opened. Every world, Almond. Not every sector. Not every layer.”

”I noticed that too.”

”So it’s been doing this somewhere else. For a long time. And it’ll do it again, here or somewhere else, and one day it’ll be back with a fourth shape that already knows everything we did to the first three.”

Almond stood with that for a while.

”Then we’ll learn faster,” he said, the same thing he’d said on day four.

”That’s not actually a plan.”

”No,” Almond agreed. ”But it’s what we’ve got, and it’s worked every time so far.”

Lily huffed something that was almost a laugh, and the two of them sat in the quiet a while longer while a kingdom ranked thirty-first slept off the hardest week of its short existence.

Above them, the Virion Iridant Tree’s branches moved slightly in wind that carried nothing dangerous in it at all.