MAGUS INFINITE

I would have spent much time deliberating on this unexpected title, but the cold voice of the Hollow focused my attention.

"You have a second Mythic Title, Elric, and you have not yet finished exploring it. This may be the fuse to break this peril."

"You are right," I nodded, "Let me see everything before I know what to do, after all, what was one more madness to add to those that plague me."

"Hey?" the fox lightly bit my ear.

"You are not a plague," I smiled.

She snorted and looked away. "I don’t like Title, Elric."

Placing the letter to one corner of my mind, I glanced down at my status screen to continue reading, and I shuddered at the first line.

- I have waited for you to notice me... now you have.

Death Consort’s Passive Effects:

The Beloved’s Embrace: Death does not frighten you as it frightens others. You have died too many times to count, and she knows your name. You no longer feel fear when facing mortal danger; there is only the recognition of the inevitable.

The Mark of the Consort: Those who have died will know you. Ghosts, spirits, the lingering dead, they will sense the mark of Death upon you and will not attack unless compelled. They may even aid you if they remember what it was like to be alive.

The Weight of Memory: You carry the echoes of every death you have ever suffered. This makes you harder to read, harder to manipulate. Your pain is old, and it has made you strong.

The Beloved’s Voice: When you are near death, you may hear her voice. She speaks in whispers, guiding you, warning you, reminding you that she is waiting. It is a promise that only the Beloved of Death may hear.

Death’s Favor: You are easier to kill because death is always waiting for you, ready to welcome you back. Mortal wounds that would linger in others find their way to you more easily. This is her gift and blessing as her Beloved.

Death Consort Active Effects:

The Beloved’s Gift (Choice): You may choose to die. Any death you choose is painless. You simply... stop, and there would be no struggle, no fear, no pain. There would be a final exhale, and she would be there.

The Consort’s Delay: You may delay death no matter how grievous an injury you suffer. When a fatal blow strikes, you may choose to remain conscious for a brief time, long enough to take one final action. You will feel no pain, no fear, only the cold clarity of someone who has already made peace with the end.

The Beloved’s Call (1/day): In moments of extreme danger, you may call upon her favour. Once per day, you may reject a death that would have been final, returning to life in the same instant you died. Use it sparingly. She does not like to be called upon for small things.

The Consort’s Judgment: When you kill, you see the shape of the death you have dealt. You understand the weight of each life you take, and you carry it with you. You will remember them all, and when you meet her, you will answer for each one.

Death Consort Cost:

The Beloved’s Gaze: Death has taken an interest in you. She watches you closely, and she will not let you go easily. The more you use her gifts, the tighter her hold on you becomes. Eventually, she will come to collect.

The Weight of the Dead: You carry the memory of every death, your own and those you have caused. This weight grows over time, pressing down on your soul, and when it reaches a limit, it manifests as spectral chains whose lengths reach the Underworld. This weight would not cripple you, but it changes you. It makes you colder and less willing to let go of the things you hold close.

The Final Price: There will come a day when you die, and you must go to her. She has been patient for a very long time, but even patience has its limits.

∞

"Nope, I am not touching this Title, not even if I have to die a few more times," I muttered to myself as I took the blade from the undead knight that I had hanging in the air.

I sat down cross-legged and borrowed the nature of the Moon Fox, causing my body to slowly levitate off the ground until I was hovering three inches above the cold metal floor.

"Good, I hate it too, I will not like to go to the Underworld... it sounds dark and creepy," the fox shivered, "but everything else sounds fun, especially the part where you can refuse to die, no matter the sort of injury you suffer." she paused, and gave me a cheeky grin, and used the sound of Dara’s voice, "... My Beloved."

I glared at her, "Do not think I forgot what you did the last loop when you threw yourself in front of the demon’s claw and were embedded into the walls."

She swished her tails. "You are welcome. Did it not give you more time to understand more of that anchor?"

"You do not have to do that. I felt your pain... You were hurt."

"And now I no longer hurt." She flicked her three tails, pleased with the logic. "That’s the good thing about you dying. It un-hits me."

I did not have an answer for that. She was right, which is annoying, but it did not change the fact that I felt responsible for her, and the thought of having her in pain somewhat terrified me.

Why should those around me have to hurt when I could carry all the pain in the world? I mean, this Mythic Title suggested as much.

I glanced at the Title again, and I knew that life would force me to use it, even though there would be a choice not to use it, but I would.

"You would be foolish not to use this title," Hollow’s voice reached my mind. "It is the perfect tool to kill a demon like the Soul Flayer."

I ignored it for a while as I looked at the rest of my status screen. There was not a lot of progress across the board, but the most crucial part of my growth was making progress, and that was good enough for me.

[ Inscription: 75 → 81 (Adept) ]

[ Mortal Shell: 107 → 111 (Arcanist) ]

[ Soul-Forge: 80 → 85 (Adept) ]

I was nearing the peak of Adept with Inscription, and I had an instinct that reaching the Arcanist Tier would lead to unexpected changes; perhaps it would be the key to breaking the leash holding down my growth of reaching the Sovereign Tier.

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