Tier 3+ - Accidental Champion (Book 7) - Chapter 45 - Gods, He’s Even More Arrogant Than I Ever Was

Anhelina had seen much in her time. Few knew how truly old she was. She was one of the Seven most powerful spirits who ruled over the Otherworld—not that ruling over the Otherworld really gave her what she truly wanted.

Still, it is something…

She was around when the System was young. Notifications were different, back then. Things were far more rudimentary. Of course, her universe had been born with the System—and she herself had been born with it, too.

Even so, there were hints of what the Greater Universe used to be like before. Far more hints than now survived.

She herself had survived for a very, very long time in her original universe. She wasn’t a part of the “first” sector, nor even the tenth, but her sector was among the first hundred sectors integrated into the System, and she was first-generation integrated—meaning her parents had been born before the System had reached her world, and she after.

Time had always been precious to her. She hadn’t wanted to waste a single second of her life; perhaps because she was so terrified of death and the deaths of her family and friends.

In her quest for power, for immortality, she outlived them all. Seeing them die did not make her come to terms with death. It only made her rage against it harder.

Rage, rage against the dying of the light…

A man had told her that once. The memory, however, back in her “real” life, was long lost to her. Spirits did not benefit from the same perfect memory Denizens possess.

Do not go gentle into that good night…

All that raging had done nothing in the end.

It was the death of the universe—her universe—that made her finally come to terms with it. Everyone had known, for roughly ten thousand years, that the end was coming. It came to light that some had known far longer, for billions of years.

They rallied against it. The System began “watching” people. Pushing them toward greater and greater heights in the hopes they would be able to stave off the universe’s end. But the inevitability of the universe’s death became more certain with the passing of each year.

And then finally, even the System abandoned them. The notifications… stopped coming. It wasn’t until Anhelina recreated her mind in the Otherworld that she’d found out why the System left—it saw they would lose, and so their universe was no longer important.

Not having the System was a profoundly difficult experience. Anhelina, like all those “born” into the System, had spent the first fifteen years of her life without it. Even so, the weight of the years that followed was far heavier more than that first decade and a half, even if those early years tended to be incredibly formative.

With the System gone and the universe coming to an unstoppable end, Anhelina at first wanted to find a way out. Other universes existed. The Tower of Champions was around back then. Every Denizen was aware they weren’t “alone” in reality. In her time, she’d heard more than one rumour about Universe Hoppers—people who had either come to her universe from another or visited others before returning to hers. But the secrets of Universe Hoppers were not available to her. Any Universe Hoppers from her universe were either in hiding or simply gone, having jumped ship long ago.

There were some Denizens who’d had the foresight to hide inside floors of the Tower of Champions when the universe came to an end, as some of the tower floors didn’t have time limits. They didn’t know if it would work—didn’t know if the System would kick them back.

That option hadn’t been available to Anhelina. And, when the System left, it became unavailable to everyone, as the Tower of Champions simply stopped functioning.

Though she could have spent her time frantically trying to uncover the secrets of Universe Hopping before it was too late, that wasn’t how she wanted to spend the last of her days.

She was finally ready to give in to the fact that she wouldn’t live forever. That when the universe ended, she too would end. She’d known that as long as her Immortal Soul survived there would be an afterlife for her to go to, but she’d had to admit to herself that even if she didn’t reach it, she needed to find peace.

She didn’t want to leave the Mortal Realm in a state of fear or despair. If her journey was to continue, she wanted to take those steps with joy—or, at least, acceptance.

The journey to accepting her death was a difficult one, to put it mildly, but the first step was knowing it could be done—and knowing she wanted to do it.

Looking at the man-become-dragonkin in front of her, she couldn’t help but feel sad for him. She more than many understood why it was so difficult for him to accept his mortality, and yet she knew there really was nothing she could do to help him accept it if he wasn’t open to it.

Despite their commonalities, Xavier Collins was a very different person to who she’d been. Anhelina—now the Spirit of Time—had risen to a power far beyond what this man currently possessed, but she’d taken the path slowly and with great caution. She had not thrown herself into any unnecessary danger. Not fought any battles there wasn’t a good chance of her winning.

She shook her head sadly as the young dragonkin before her said he wouldn’t ever die. If she had a mortal body and were truly here, perhaps a tear would have drifted down her cheek.

But she had not possessed a mortal body for a long, long time.

Technically, there was a chance she could come back from the Otherworld—it had been done before. Hell, Xavier Collins had done it for someone she was intimately familiar with—Volkarin, who had once been one of the Seven most powerful spirits in the Otherworld as she still was.

But what would be the point of continuing to exist simply for the sake of it, when this universe would one day come to an end too?

I have to say I admire your confidence, Xavier Collins. You are facing certain death and yet you feel as though you will live for all time… Anhelina released a sigh.

The dragonkin offered her a warm smile.

I understand why you doubt me. I truly do. I would be a liar to say that I have never once doubted myself. But you must understand something—if I waver, if I give in, if I accept that there is no chance of me achieving what I need to achieve, then how will I ever achieve it? You have seen me die so many times. That should rock me to my core, but it doesn’t. Because those men were not me. They were someone else. Someone who may share my beginnings and much of my journey, but we are not the same.

He raised his chin. His silver eyes sparked.

This is not my end.

Anhelina was silent following the dragonkin’s words. Her expression remained sad, her gaze despairing. But she hadn’t lied when she’d said she admired the man’s confidence. It was foolish, of course. Entirely bereft of reason.

Still, this Xavier Collins had achieved far more than any she’d encountered in the past. Well—not more, exactly. There were some versions of Xavier Collins that she’d seen live right up until the end of the universe, having grown to be the most powerful Denizen around—though they never grew strong enough to stop the ultimate threat from ending their universes.

But this Xavier Collins had risen faster than any of them. If the rumours about some of the things he’d done were true, he had risen faster than anyone in any universe she’d ever heard of.

It would be such a loss for him to die so soon, so young…

And so even though he sounded insane when he spoke of never giving up and never giving in—of never dying—as she’d heard so many other people, and so many other Xaviers, say in the past, there was a part of her that couldn’t help but wonder if maybe he was right.

If maybe… Maybe he wouldn’t die. At least not today.

Anhelina blinked, tilted her head to one side, and peered at the dragonkin before her. Is that a spark of hope I feel inside me? She couldn’t be sure. It had been an awful long time since she’d felt that particular emotion.

Xavier’s warm smile widened. He clapped his hands together. Right now, I only need to do a single thing: figure out how not to die. He chuckled, looked down at himself. Should be easy enough. I’ve been in worse situations… He seemed to ponder that. Well, actually, maybe I haven’t.

The spark inside Anhelina remained despite the insanity of this man. Perhaps it wasn’t truly hope. Perhaps the man’s insanity had the ability to jump planes of existence and was infecting her.

It’s time you use my abilities, Xavier Collins. You can only stall inside this frozen space for so long.

The dragonkin pursed his lips. Indeed. No more stalling. His wings flapped lazily as he inclined his head in thought. Let the first unfolding begin.

Before we start, I must warn you. The Spirit of Time pointed toward the dragonkin’s chest. Whatever that thing inside you is, it is thinning the walls of reality. You are aware of the consequences of using my ability, and that in some circumstances, time can only be unfolded so much.

Xavier nodded. Oh, I’m more aware of that than I ever have been before. Trust me.

Anhelina frowned. Then we shall begin.

The Spirit of Time cast her spell. It was a spell only available to her when she was brought into the Mortal Realm, for time did not possess the same meaning in the Otherworld.

Casting the spell gave Anhelina an intoxicating feeling, but as it worked its magic upon time, she could already feel its effects on the fabric of reality. The void was closer here than it should be. Closer than she’d felt it in a long while.

Xavier Collins might only get three chances at this.

He best not spoil them…

Anhelina shook herself. Spoil his chances? Must have been the insanity talking, for this dragonkin had no chance of survival at all.

~

The Old Man stood on the observation deck of his starship. The journey to the Silver River sector was a long one this way—but it was intentionally long.

Long. He chuckled to himself. This shouldn’t feel long. Not to me. Not with how damned old I am.

He had been watching in wonder, again and again, as he saw what Xavier Collins did. Never before had he strained his spells of observation to these limits. The Old Man had long ago discovered the ability to work with the System in ways that didn’t seem as though they should be possible. He’d found hidden spells and uncovered secrets only he in this universe possessed. His ability to look into other universes was unrivalled—that was how he’d observed the boy in the first place, back when he’d killed the Lord of the Endless Horde on the fifth floor.

That already feels like it happened so long ago, and yet it should only have been a handful of moments for someone such as I.

Then he watched the boy uncover secrets even he had never known. When Xavier had chosen that foolish class—The Wayfarer of the Infinite Path—the Old Man had tremendous doubts. For a long time, he was blind to the existence of “Xavier Collins.” The Old Man had been watched by the System, knew of other universes, could peer into them… But he’d never heard of this man even once.

And that wasn’t because the man wasn’t born in this universe yet, though that sounded like a good enough reason—it was because the Old Man hadn’t been looking in the right places.

That fateful notification, The System Is Watching, hadn’t appeared to him in some time. Before Xavier, the Old Man looked to himself in other universes. He was the first. He was the strongest. If anyone was to succeed at the end, to become the Weapon of the System, surely it would be him.

And it wasn’t hard to find other versions of himself fighting at the ends of other universes. That was why he’d developed his spell to look into other universes in the first place—in the hopes of finding insight.

Many times, he had become the Weapon of the System.

He had discovered a vast number of insights on these observational journeys, just as he’d intended. But all he’d ever found at the ends of these universes was death.

The death of everyone and everything.

Though logically, the Old Man understood why this was. There were an infinite number of universes, and those old enough had all come to an end. Saving the universe was an exception to the rule that had never been proven possible.

That did not stop what he saw from filling him with despair. That despair was something he needed to fight in order to make true progress toward his goal.

But he could admit that more than once he’d gone millions of years resigned to the fact that he wouldn’t be able to succeed. That in the end, it would be the end. Sometimes those years were plagued with melancholy. Other times, they were filled with a renewed sense of meaning and an ability to seize each moment that came before him.

And then there were the times when it filled him with an uncontrollable anger. That anger often made him retreat into his own little world, but on occasion it would make him push outward and use that energy for conquering new sectors. The dream of ruling over all existence—at least, all existence he could access—had been with him since the first time he’d tasted power. He wasn’t even sure why he wanted to rule, he simply did. But he also knew how much pain he’d brought to living, breathing beings in the process—hence why he had not bothered to expand for such a long time.

The weight of all that death, all that suffering in the name of empire… It had a way of adding up over the millions and billions of years that he had lived.

His neighbouring rulers thought he’d stopped expanding because he was afraid of overstretching himself. Or that he was afraid of them banding together. While he did worry they might lash out if they discovered he wasn’t there to guard his domain, he knew that in a true war he would win.

I could crush them all if I wished.

He simply didn’t want to pay the price if there wasn’t a good reason to.

The Old Man sighed, his gaze looking through the observation window out into the vastness of space. He’d never travelled this far before. He often thought he more than anyone had a clear grasp of how large the universe—and the System’s control over it—was. But even for someone who’d lived as long as he had he found it to be unimaginably large. It didn’t go on forever, but it certainly felt as though it did.

He gripped the rail in front of him, leaning forward until his head touched the window, and shut his eyes.

When he’d first discovered Xavier Collins, when he’d found out the boy was being watched by the System, it had infuriated him. How could the System choose a child? Did it really thing this boy would rise to become the Weapon of the System, would rise to save the universe, in his place?

Then, he’d continued to watch.

One thing became immediately clear: The boy had no understanding of the danger he kept putting himself in.

Every situation he threw himself in seemed too big a risk with too little preparation. He dove into danger seemingly without care. He should have died a thousand, thousand times.

A second thing became clear, however: The boy kept surviving. Not only that, he thrived amongst the danger he threw himself into. Many times, the Old Man had been resigned to watching Xavier Collins die, only to find out he became stronger.

It didn’t take long for the Old Man to push his observation into other universes and find different versions of Xavier Collins. Often, the man was long dead before that battle at the end of the universe came—more often than not, actually.

The chances of the Old Man surviving to the end, versus Xavier Collins surviving to the end, appeared to be somewhere in the realm of one in a billion. At least, from his observations, in the universes he could access.

Still, it went a long way to explaining why he’d never encountered the man before.

I wasn’t looking in the right places.

Something he found rather terrifying became clear to him in these journeys, on the ones where Xavier Collins made it to the end…

The Old Man was never there by his side.

Not once.

They never fought the end of the universe together. In fact, from what the Old Man had gathered, that was because Xavier Collins killed him whenever he became powerful enough.

And yet here he was, travelling across the Greater Universe toward the boy. Toward the Denizen who might one day be the cause of his death. Not to kill him before it could come to that—but to help him move forward.

Were I younger, more brash, I would simply destroy his entire sector and him with it.

Not that Xavier Collins was even in his own sector currently. No, the boy—the Old Man sighed—the man, had gone off to kill some weak B Grade in a neighbouring sector.

That was what the Old Man was watching as his head rested against the glass of his starship’s observation deck. He was trillions of light-years away, hovering over the scene of The Collector activating a tremendously powerful spell of destruction upon Xavier Collins. A spell that there was no chance of the boy surviving.

The Old Man stopped breathing as he watched. His heartbeat slowed until it too stopped. Xavier was altering time—or rather, he’d summoned a spirit in order to accomplish that feat—yet the Old Man could observe what was happening easily. His mind had to work incredibly fast to achieve this task, but he was more than up to the challenge.

Even now, he was observing the conversation Xavier was having with the spirit he’d summoned.

Gods, he’s even more arrogant than I ever was.

The Old Man’s many family members would gasp at that, saying such a thing surely couldn’t be possible. And yet he saw it before him clear as day.

Not for the first time, the Old Man thought this version of Xavier Collins would die. He’d seen a vast number of other Xaviers die in his research, and heard of so, so many more. Yet he had to admit there was something different about this version. Something he’d never seen in all the others. Something indefinable. It wasn’t his stupid luck—though that was an incredible sight to behold, one that at times made him wonder if the System was altering the outcome.

It hadn’t taken him long to abandon that line of inquiry—the System didn’t do such a thing. It didn’t care. It would leave Xavier to die in a heartbeat.

No, there was something else at play.

Xavier was the only thing in the Greater Universe that gave the Old Man any hope of the universe being able to be saved. The more he observed the man, the more hope grew in his heart. He’d watched as the man trained inside that time dilation field. Watched him train others in this strange art of cultivation. Heard his explanations of what he’d discovered. Things that shouldn’t be possible yet clearly were.

Other Systems, other corners of the multiverse, new cores, different energy sources…

The Old Man ached to learn these things, but he wasn’t able to observe enough with his abilities to understand. He couldn’t pierce their veils, even at his grade.

Despite all Xavier Collins had learned, despite how absurdly powerful he’d become for his grade, he appeared to have thrown himself too far into the danger this time.

Do I save him, if it comes to it? The Old Man swallowed. How will I even know if he needs it?

The danger of saving Xavier before he needed it was clear: The Old Man might inadvertently prevent him from having another breakthrough.

How many times did I almost intervene, and was glad I held back?

Not once had the Old Man stepped in. At times he’d told himself he never would. He didn’t want Xavier to grow reliant. He’d seen what that looked like. Seen what happened when he, in other universes, took Xavier Collins fully under his wing.

The man became powerful, yes, but never powerful enough. And never as powerful as when he lacked such pointed guidance.

If I ever do help him from such a certain death, he can’t ever know it was me.

The Old Man grasped the rail and watched as Xavier experienced the first unfolding the Spirit of Time created. Watched as the man died in agony, unable to do a single thing before the explosion of Soul Energy consumed him from the inside out.

How could anyone survive such a fate?