A montage of three scenes brought Zalanir to different settings, but the two men always remained the focus of them. The first one returned to forging, when two of them competed with each other by accepting requests and creating two identical items. They both presented their creations when submitting the quest, and whichever got chosen won. Sinclair ended up beating Verizss’ia, earning a tantrum from his “boss” about unfairness and fraud.

  The next scene saw both of them running away from a flock of giant owls. Even with the overpowered lantern and his legion of weapons, Verizss’ia still couldn’t stop the assault from the flying enemies. His armors were broken apart, but he was still luckier, as Sinclair even ended up losing half of his body. They had to dig deep underground until the pursuers stopped and left, though their concept of “digging” involved a lot of explosions and incineration. Both of them cursed and swore to pay the birds back for their crime, but the scene ended there without showing Zalanir the revenge.

  Then Zalanir was put right in the middle of a big war between two human forces. At least, that was his initial thoughts. Turned out, the side that had the taller individuals wasn’t human but a race called nasciivez. Their specialty seemed to be shapeshifting, as Zalanir saw a variety of soldiers transform into different forms when engaging in battles: eagles, deer, monkeys, scorpions, to name a few.

  But the human force was still stronger. Their forces consisted of one big army, supported by two smaller ones in magic and, to Zalanir’s bewilderment, robots. Thousands of robots trod the battlefield, though there were no explosives. These robots all engaged in melee combat, using their tough skins to press the enemies. Perhaps calling them mechanical puppets would be more accurate, since they reminded him of the Zerkshi mercenaries.

  The two men were split up into two opposing forces, with Zalanir’s vision pegged onto Verizss’ia. Starting with a simple sketch, Verizss’ia managed to develop an amulet to send rough messages to Sinclair, and with his partner’s help, improved the amulet to enable them some form of distant communication. Both of them didn’t need to go to the front line — though Verizss’ia still sneaked out occasionally — but instead were forced by their own kin to produce equipment in bulk for the soldiers, which they did just enough to pass the eye test.

  A stalemate was established when the human successfully claimed the forest edge, but were unable to advance further due to all the tricks and tactics employed by the nasciivez. They were the defenders fighting on their home soil, after all.

  The human carried out a second attempt later when they got reinforcement, but even that wasn’t enough. At that moment, they called off the war and retreated. The nasciivez, instead of roaring in triumphant, just silently took care of the death and the forest. A lot of them brought seeds and sprouts and planted them onto the soil up to the forest’s edge. In this phase, Verizss’ia was asked to craft all kinds of traps, and those traps got planted into the earth as well.

  The scene ended with Verizss’ia giving Sinclair a warning about what he had created, but not the actual effects and placements of these traps. He recalled the amulet onto his forehead in the last sight before a dark veil descended and blocked Zalanir’s vision.

  At this point, Zalanir could tell that each scene took place after the one prior. The main character was obviously Verizss’ia. Except when he and Sinclair were together forging items, Zalanir was always on Verizss’ia side of the story. He had no idea of the time between two consecutive scenes, but he got an inkling that the number couldn’t be less than hundreds, if not thousands of years. Or even more. The last war had all but confirmed that both of them were at least god level.

  Of all these fancy attacks that shook the world, all the teleportation, and all the massive powers that both sides possessed, the lantern and its combination with all the weapons remained one of the strongest attacks displayed. Or maybe he was bought in by the visual effects and thus had his opinion skewed toward the wrong assessment. Spending too much time witnessing Verizss’ia using that same attack in various battles could create that effect. But still, a mere D-grade like him could in no way tell anything about the power of a god, after all.

  But why did he experience this? That remained his biggest question. What was the relation between all of this and the butterfly? With Verizss’ia being a nasciivez, did it mean that Djaxinz’s master was the same? What was Djaxinz doing with this race?

  Bubbles of light started to drive the darkness away at the horizon, and Zalanir stopped with all the questions. Perhaps the next scene would answer it, as it would come soon.

  ***

  Five days had passed since the incident with the butterfly. Djaxinz was waiting at the entrance to a cave, focusing his gaze on a family of squirrels jumping and flying under the crown of an old tree. Based on the situation, seemed like his acquaintance wouldn’t wake up in time.

  Glancing over at Zalanir’s body lying on top of a makeshift stone bed, he still couldn’t believe what was happening. Un’tah told him that the butterfly was in no possibility sentient. They were just remnants of what had been that were sealed away by an advanced nasciivez technique to preserve and pass down legacy. He didn’t doubt it, because that night was also the first time he saw that strong of a reaction from his master. He had thought that nothing would surprise the old man, but seemed like the green butterfly had another idea. Un’tah had decided to postpone their journey to the second Ring for a couple of days, but this had already surpassed his time, and there was no sign that Zalanir would wake up.

  He knew what an opportunity Zalanir was having at the moment because he had also tasted it. Claimed it. The legendary skill he got had empowered his path to reach such power. He was still glad that Un’tah had a perfect butterfly for his fighting style. If it had been the path of a mage or assassin, he wouldn’t have taken it. Well, there was still the luck factor that he got his legendary skill out of a variety of other also-powerful-but-stylistically-hard-to-use skills, but luck had always been fair over the passage of time, anyway. One luck now meant one less luck in the future. Only the stupid would argue otherwise.

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  But why? Was there anything special about this man? He learned fast, was hardworking, had good awareness of the situation, but that was about it. It was a good combination of traits, but not unique by any means.

  As for power, he had a basic magical mastery, basic skills like that versatile bolts or the barrier under his arsenal. Nothing screamed anything out of the ordinary. The info he got about the originality was also standard. Sold to the fighting at level 5, and remained there basically the whole time, except for the one time that he himself brought the man to the anthill. So, he had no idea what triggered the butterfly to seek out the man.

  His thoughts lingered on that particular conversation at Kael’s mansion. The man knew nothing about grades, evolution, and even the seriousness of all the wounds. It was like someone from a different place drifted here. He had others check all the nearby forests for their general sense of knowledge, and no matter how secluded one was, everyone there could by no means be as senseless as Zalanir. Also, the language he spoke had unnatural sounds to his ears. It was close to the common language in the nation, but only close, not entirely the same. There had to be something that he had missed.

  “We leave at first light tomorrow,” Un’tah appeared at the cave entrance.

  Djaxinz was curious about what would happen to Zalanir, but he had to leave. Others were waiting for him. He got a gift, but also a responsibility. His master might’ve dismissed it, but he knew even if the chance was comical, the old man still did it to plant hope. He would need to make sure that the investment in him was worth it.

  Djaxinz greeted his master. “Should we leave him with something? He gets one butterfly, so if he survives, isn’t he also one of us?”

  “Unless he could come to the second Ring. Even in that case, you three will have shot up way too high already. The difference in condition isn’t just between a creek and a river. We are talking about a pond versus an ocean. At the moment, you are already ahead by a good margin. Now let’s take into account the incremental advantage of having more resources, better choice in masteries, skills, modifications, better foes, just to name a few; all of them add up. Even a butterfly couldn’t change that; otherwise, our race would be the strongest, not human. Not you human, you know that. Those who knocked on our door are just on another level. Even the second Ring is not the end. From where I come from, all you see are monsters. Don’t take this to heart, child, but even you four are just one of my numerous bets. You need to focus on yourself, not worry about someone else.”

  His master paused, but Djaxinz knew he would continue. The old man was in a deep mood. Seemed like something had happened during the three days when he was away.

  “But I do also wonder what would happen to him? What kind of results would he get from that butterfly? Ah, he was one of our brightest stars back then, but life was cruel. Ahhh, maybe this old man should leave that young man something, like you suggested. The other four had always laughed at me for this, especially that golden lioness, but a chance is still a chance, no matter how small it is. Maybe fate has something for him. I won’t get another chance to come here after this anyway. My presence has disturbed the balance and is already frowned upon. Hmm, what could be helpful? No, I have nothing for a D-grade. You do it instead. A generous deed is never bad, after all.”

  ***

  The next scene wasn’t something Zalanir had expected. No forge, no war, no wild venture or tussle with strange creatures. All he saw were the tops of many crowns, an endless horizon, and water raining down onto his eyes. He was flying. Great. Never thought this day would come. The sensation of freedom was second to none. But why did he fly under a downpour? No, most importantly, why was he inside Verizss’ia’s head instead of the usual detached position?

  No, calling himself inside the man’s head wasn’t correct, because soon Zalanir realized that it was just the position. He just experienced everything from the first person point of view, but he had no idea what was going on in the man’s head. This was such a bizarre position, as he often found himself grinning like an idiot without knowing the cause.

  Verizss’ia didn’t rest at all. He had to be quite eager to see Sinclair again, as he kept on blabbering to himself about all the next awesome creations they were gonna make together. The man just went full stop, day after day, and night after night. Even at this speed, the jungle under his feet was still spreading with no sight of an end. How big was this place? He was flying even faster than an airplane. There was no way to be sure, but Zalanir felt like he had circled around the Earth probably a thousand times already. God’s power was freaking amazing.

  The flight was rather chill. Verizss’ia occasionally hummed one or two melodies that were quite pleasing to the ears. They were closer to jazz, but he could certainly find traces of R&B sprinkled here and there.

  To Zalanir’s confusion and dizziness, Verizss’ia turned and zoomed around in random lines. Black projectiles exploded and honed in on his position, which in this case meant Verizss’ia’s spot. Then, a giant black net covered the sky, slowly shrinking and encroaching toward him. Verizss’ia called out probably all of his weapons, which in this case numbered even thousands. Various shadows shot up from the jungle, each throwing a sphere that emanated a red spherical aura and locked all the weapons from moving inside its radius.

  “Assassins from Asterra with Machana’s invention? To what do I owe the honor?” Verizss’ia greeted.

  If Zalanir hadn’t experienced this, he would probably have missed how shaken the man was, despite his calm manner. It wasn’t visible, but every tendon and muscle had stiffened up. The green lantern appeared on his right hand. He gripped it hard enough that his palm’s skin burst open.

  At that moment when the lantern showed up, his eyes darted to a hooded figure who was zeroing in on his spot at an incredible speed. The lantern was still midway to his chest to block the attack when something sharp cut into his right wrist. Another blink, and another cut. This time it landed on his right shoulder. And then, as if he were a lightning rod, all the black projectiles converged onto this position and exploded.

  A force was trying to snatch the lantern away from his grip. He tried to hold on, but was gradually losing. Zalanir couldn’t feel the pain, but two of his legs were gone. It felt empty down there. Though the man’s attention remained on the lantern. And then he grinned. The same type of expression that Zalanir had seen many times. But this time, being the man himself, Zalanir somehow could tell that it wasn’t joy, but satirical mixed in with rage. Unwillingly, his tongue and throat vibrated. A sizzling whisper came right after.

  “Let’s see who you are!”

  All the souls inside the lantern screeched, bumped, and shook their home violently. As if there was a detonative switch being plucked off, a blazing force exploded inside the lantern. The green light flashed at that very moment, revealing a face under the hood: a man with a rift cut diagonally through his left eye, continued past his nose, and ended just above his lower jaw.

  We all have 24 hours a day. Thank you for spending some of that with me!