Sovereign of the Karmic System-Chapter 655 An Obvious Trap

The aspect of Conflict. A distinct and likable man in Daniel's memories, with eyes the depths of fallen stars, and a helpful disposition that masked his true thoughts, feeling, and plans. In truth, he was an entity that had existed since time immemorial, born out of the existential and primordial powers of war and destruction.

"Of course, I should have known." Daniel muttered to himself as his eyes dug through countless miles of empty space. ƒ𝑟e𝘦we𝑏n𝑜𝚟𝙚Ɩ. 𝒄𝚘𝐦

"The aspect of Conflict? Who is he? And what could he possibly have against you that he considered you worthy of his attention even before you could ascend?" Roley's eyes were wide open. He had often heard rumors of the existence of the primordial aspects of existence. Creatures of nigh-omnipotence that were considered gods, even among their own kind. "What did you do to him?"

Without turning around, Daniel answered. His voice emerged from curved lips with an unsteady tone, as if he had been trying to stop himself from bursting out in an earthy laugh. "It isn't personal. It never is, with those kinds of people." Daniel said before suddenly catching himself in a lie. "Actually, it always is personal with them, but this has nothing to do with something I have done."

"Care to explain?" Der chimed in, his patience wearing thin.

Daniel's shoulders rose in a quick shrug, then he turned around, facing them. "It is his nature. He is the lord of all conflict, down to the clash of atoms, up to the corrosion of universes. He breathes air attrition, and he bleeds pressure onto the earth. That is his nature. A nature that, based on my own experiences, as well as Sacrifice's description of his powers, allows him to see the full destructive potential of all things."

"I am so confused. What does that have anything to do with you?" Roley asked.

"I am getting to it." Daniel responded, as his gaze turned pensive. His fingers cupped his shaven chin, while his index finger scratched his jaw, fighting off an itch that was never there to begin with. "I never put two and two together until I read the last entry in Sacrifice's diary. Him discerning the nature of my system the first time we met, saving us from the childish squabbles between Conclusion, Ingenuity and the other two, or saving me from Equilibrium's judgment. He probably knew since the beginning."

Roley's hands rose impatiently, as the inner parts of his brows followed suit. "You are not making any sense. Knew what?"

"He knew all about it. About the nature of the systems as embryos of powers of existence. Of the possibility to ascend to the state of aspect of existence." Daniel said as his smile widened. "I would not be surprised if he knew already that we lack the one weakness all aspects of existence possess. Having their powers bound to the influence of the power they represent."

Der and Roley finally started to understand.

"He must have learned about it the first time he met a champion of Destiny. What he saw would have been further reason for any other aspects of existence to eradicate them, but to him, it was an opportunity." Daniel's voice trailed into silence, allowing for his two companions to draw their own conclusions.

The first to speak, a full minute later, was Roley, whose healthy pink complexion had fallen by several shades. "You are saying that he allowed you to grow, so that he could pit you against the other aspects of existence. Start a war between old and new members of the pantheon, all to create.."

"Conflict." Daniel cut him off. By now, his spirit had been set ablaze, and his hands had tightened into fists. The initial amusement had disappeared, replaced by the indignation of being used, and underestimated. Did Conflict think that I would never learn about this? Did he believe that, had I learned about it, I would be powerless to take revenge, or that I would fail to defeat the old pantheon, taking him down with them? Were the questions that filled his mind.

Of course. A war of such catastrophic proportion would leave many dead in its wake. He might be able to defeat the lowest tiers of aspects of existence, but doing so would only increase Conflict's power, while also leaving him weakened. After all, regardless of how much power he had accumulated, he was still a young aspect of existence. His influence could not be compared to that of an omnipresent aspect of existence. Not after they had been allowed to develop since the beginning of time.

His feelings, however, never set into the realm of fear, for fear he had none. He knew that playing his part into Conflict's schemes would only elevate the latter to an even higher level position, probably above all other primordial aspects of existence. And yet, he did not care. His potential alone might not be high enough to fight back, but someone else might. He thought as his eyes locked onto Roley's figure.

"So we were all playing into the palm of the Aspect of Conflict. How does this change things for us?" Roley asked Daniel.

Before Daniel could respond, however, Der stepped forward and growled. "It changes nothing. Nothing will stop me from finding my daughter. Not you, him, or any other narcissistic freak looking down on us from their comfortable thrones." His foot stomped on the ground, forming a crack that immediately extended to one end of the platform to the other, splitting its gargantuan size into two even halves.

"Nothing has changed." Daniel muttered after a few moments of silence. "Based on the diary entries, Sacrifice must have had no more than two decades to find allies. Not an easy feat for someone like him."

"Why, have you met him?" Roley asked.

Daniel rolled his eyes. "As a matter of fact, we have. Quite recently. During a gathering of aspects of existence. I would not exactly call him the soul of the party. I doubt he has managed to gather too many allies, even less that he convinced those who could pose a threat to me."

"What is next, then?" Der asked. "This diary does not tell us where Sacrifice is keeping Mea and the others." As he finished speaking, he turned towards Roley, his eyes narrowed into slits barely visible through the thick metal of his helmet. "I thought systems never lied."

Roley shook his head in disagreement. His hand stretched towards Daniel, hinting for him to hand the diary over to him.

Knowing his intentions, Daniel idly handed the notebook over. He did not care for such unimportant explanations, so he let Roley do the honors. Soon enough, the latter's voice played out.

The notebook was opened to its first page, and Roley's fingers solidly pressed onto the very first name of the list of owned universes. "They are here." Roley said with a matter-of-fact tone. Under his finger, the words 'Universe #252, Sanguine. Current core of the red domain. X:11.845; Y:-52.655; Z:22.0001, Fate's universal charting system.'

"How do you know?" Der asked.

"Because Sacrifice was terrified by Conflict. He wouldn't mess up the task he was given, either by leaving our friends in the same universe as Olanah', or by putting them in the hands of others. No, he is probably keeping them himself." Roley's finger tapped the same line a few more times, then added, "Which is why I think they are here. If this is truly the core of Sacrifice's domain, then this is where he is at his strongest. The one universe he would dare face other aspects of existence in."

Der finally understood. Roley's logic made sense, and Daniel seemed relaxed. A sight which calmed him down as well. This young man might not be the one he once was, but to face creatures he could never hope to face himself, he could ask for no better companion. That was how the mind of a general and a soldier worked. "So, we are just going to barge into Sacrifice's core domain and hope Daniel can trample any trap that awaits us?" He asked.

Roley turned to look at Daniel, deferring to him for an answer. He was the strongest creature here, and the only one instrumental to the successful rescue of his people. It was not his place to make plans, or order him around. Nor would Daniel agree to it, for the matter.. That, he understood quite clearly.

As the two looked at him with expectant looks, Daniel scratched his chin once more. The deepest parts of his existence were begging him to take the bait, and barge into Sacrifice's domain like a knight in the dragon's lair, but he had been human once. He knew better than that.

After a few minutes of consideration, Daniel opened his eyes, which soon found their way to Roley's figure. "We are going to make a detour, first." He said.

"A detour? Where?" Roley asked.

A smile returned to Daniel's lips, revealing two rows of pearly white teeth that soon parted. "We are going to Sound's domain, to pick up a new trinket for you." He said.

-----

Somewhere within the Sanguine universe, was a dark and cold hall.

Gray was the color of its stone floor, which extended in nearly complete darkness across thousands of miles in every direction with a smooth, and even surface. Its only source of lighting were a handful of nearly extinguished torches, held in place by holders of dark iron mounted into absurdly large, elaborately sculpted pillars.

Each pillar was large enough for ten people to hug, and on their surface were sculpted detailed images of the history of civilization. All different in their own right, showing the birth, advancement, and demise of various humanoid races.

The pillars far outnumbered the lit torches, as each extended upwards and into the darkness, bearing the weight of their own section of the ceiling, but only a handful of torches had been lit. Specifically, the ones closest to a pillar in particular. One that stood where the forest of sculpted pillars ended, and the ones that appeared to have been hastily dug out of the stone that once filled the immense hall began.

Standing at the bottom of this pillar stood a feeble and pale old man. He held a chisel and a hammer with his hands, while his feet moved around a sack filled with other sculpting tools of different shapes and sizes. His thin physique made it a miracle for the old man to be still working, and yet, he continued his hammering in a trance, eager to finish the work of his life as soon as possible.

To observe the man's devotion, was a second individual. A man in his late twenties dressed in a fitting red attire, who sat on and behind the only two pieces of furniture within the mine-wide hall. A refined chair of dark wood and a large desk of similar craft, over which he rested his feet comfortably.

As he observed what he knew to be the last moments of a dedicated sculptor with his bright red eyes, the man's hands moved constantly. One played with a diamond ring which he rolled over his knuckles with great dexterity, the other fingering a crystal band he wore at the bottom of his left thumb. His focus was split equally between the three, whom he kept in his sight at all times. Or so he had for the last few days.

The pillar was about to be finished. A feat that was likely to end up in its sculptor's death. A spectacle he had watched thousands of times before. The great sculptors of each civilization carving their most detailed work into his hall. An honor that would always come at the cost of the sculptor's life. How pure of a sacrifice that was for the one who from sacrifice had been born, for he was Sacrifice himself.

The old man had spent the last day touching up his work, correcting a few mistakes and adding beautiful details. He was almost over, just like his feeble and dragged breath reminded his life to be with each mote of pulverized stone and strike of the hammer, again, and again, until finally, the old man finally fell to his knees.

Sacrifice made himself more comfortable, eager to see the birth of the purest form of sacrifice, but then, just as the old man was about to exhale his last breath, the crystal band he wore exploded into countless shards. "Olanah.." he muttered in short-lived surprise before turning to the side, where a dark shadow had quietly appeared. "It is time. Call the others." He ordered.

As these words were spoken the shadow disappeared, and so did Sacrifice soon after. The old man lay lifeless on the cold floor, at the feet of a masterpiece that, given only once chance to be gazed upon by a now uninterested Sacrifice, was destined to never be looked at ever again.