Sofia’s goal in seeking power had always been very straightforward. Skeletal ambitions aside, she wanted to be free.
Free, and strong enough to venture into Sovuln. To seek Saria’s remains, on a dreaded floating island, in a probably long-destroyed slaver camp.
That was it.
She had no plans to slay Gods, make friends with the continent’s powerhouses, deal with alien invasions, or become a member of some unfathomable entity the system itself failed to understand.
All she wanted was freedom and closure.
Where had it all gone wrong?
She summoned the necromancy grimoire from her ring.
The old and crumbling book, missing most pages and now partially burned, was where this whole thing had started.
[Identify]
[ERROR]
[THIS ITEM HAS BEEN LOCKED BY ITS CREATOR AND CAN NOT BE IDENTIFIED]
“What…” Sofia sighed in incomprehension.
Following that, Sofia heard the *Ding* announcing a new message again. Multiple times. But nothing showed up.
A blank system window opened and closed. Followed by hundreds more.
Her status opened next, jumbled and broken, letters drifting out of the words, lines tilting, font changing. Sofia was powerless to do anything but watch in horror as the system was having a seizure. She had no control over any of it anymore. Soon, the troubles reached outside of the window, becoming a loud ringing in her ears, a piercing, incapacitating headache. And as abruptly as it had started, it all stopped.
A single, small window opened, and all it contained was: [Mark of the Deep].
One by one, new letters appeared between the word ‘deep’ and the last bracket.
[Mark of the Deep. In an effort of self-preservation, restricted information will be divulged : Item creator : SCRIPTURE. Date of creation : 12.02.3207. Please proceed to immediate destruction using angelic authority!]
After Sofia read the last word, the system window warped then disappeared, accompanied by an even worse headache that did not relent for a long while, even after Pareth force-fed Sofia a Healing potion she had arduously managed to get out of her storage ring.
Sweating buckets, on all fours on the jungle ground, among the weeds and the flying insects, Sofia did her best to calm down her breath as the pain finally receded. She couldn’t access the system anymore, not a single window, not a single skill, nothing. She only felt her soul link to Pareth.
The Scribe. That was the scribe warning me!
Are you okay, Mr. Scribe?!
*Ding*
That was it.
I’ll take that as a yes…
Her eyes fell on the grimoire, open on the ground.
I see.
Yes… Yes! I get it now!
With this final piece of information, all the events that were previously disjointed in Sofia's mind were now painting a clear picture.
What was it? [Congratulations, you have been chosen as a new SAINT!], uh? At such a strange timing, completely breaking the system. This fucking… This god has been toying with me from the start!
Sofia’s hands tightly clutched the grass and soil under her.
The grimoire, the weird class, the soul parasite. All him.
But why?
The grimoire…
Necromancy, undead, and rituals…
The demon ritual!
If it was a ritual to become a lich or summon a greater undead… But no, it was a ritual, clearly inscribed on the back cover where I wouldn't miss it if I tried. A ritual to become a Recessed God’s apostle.
And the perfect place for the ritual happened to be right under the Holy-See all along. What a coincidence!
Being a saint and an apostle at the same time… Was that his goal from the beginning? All to push me, his saint, to become a demon?
What am I? A test subject? A toy you can use to try things out?
And then… Instead of beneath the Church, I did the ritual in the trial, was this something he expected? Or did that ruin his plans?
It's only after this that the parasite started really acting out, Scripture tried to finish me. But at that time, [Domination] bypassed the intended effect of the blessing, robbing me of my freedom. Ormoncleth the Regulator sensed it through the blessing. Maybe it was an ego thing, or maybe they actually care, the Deep Lords named me, maybe I’m adopted as one of them? Either way, they felt the need to fix this loophole, adding [Domination] to the list of immunity.
But they noticed the parasite. And so they dealt with it too, also giving me immunity to it. Scripture never thought I’d get their support or blessing. Surely even he couldn’t have predicted what skills I’d make, or even that the system would allow me to make my own spells.
And just like that he lost the weapon that was meant to kill me. And now he wants to clean up his mess, right? I’m the thing that needs to be cleaned up. The test subject has overstayed its welcome.
Finally, when I felt the mana link from the ‘sinner priest’ and wondered if I was going against an angel, I got suddenly disconnected from the system to protect me from ‘corruption’. As if by virtue of me saying that, the system had discovered a problem. Exactly like the time I complained about my broken skill description and that was what led to the system noticing it and giving me the scribe…
Killing me would be important enough to Scripture that he would mess with the whole System to do it? He even ambushed me with so many Templars and Paladins when the Church’s resources were already stretched so thin by Sovuln and the war. Not counting their lack of a proper Saint.
He wants me dead. The last hurdle to my freedom. He was the reason I was locked in the Church in the first place, and as such, the target of the Deep’s quest, that I must finish myself…
And now… Now the scribe sacrificed himself, directly giving me restricted information to make me understand all that.
I…
“Bravo, bravo…”
The dead body of the Templar stood in front of Sofia, giving slow claps, Orator again... The Lord had a peculiar, smooth, and suave way of speaking that showed no matter which mouth he used.
“What a remarkable speech! Incredible! A true testament to your brilliance. Poor boorish Inquisitor does not deserve you. You must be the first human to be graced by my presence three times without fading, this alone speaks volumes,” the Orator declared in the Templar’s voice, gesticulating grandly to emphasize his words. "Found the answers by yourself, have you not? Is it not much more thrilling?”
The templar’s body fell limply to the ground. Next, it was Sofia’s mouth which opened by itself, once again.
“Now, pardon the intrusion, let me help your little friend, they are essential to make proper use of my gift, for now. It cannot be allowed to hold you back.”
Sofia could only watch as her hand raised to her temples and her finger flicked her head multiple times. She felt her consciousness waver and come back after every tap.
[Scribe Only mode is now operational again!]
The Lord’s voice next came from a bird Sofia couldn’t see, high up in the jungle canopy, each of his words echoed through the mountain.
“Much, much better. Oh, I understand this must be a lot for your weak human mind. No matter, I have much to do, work well toward your freedom, youngling. I shall not show up again.”
Silence reclaimed the thick jungle for a few seconds. Just as Sofia was about to move on, the Templar’s mouth opened again, still on the ground this time, not bothering to stand up.
“Oh! One last detail, resent not Sorrow, you called and she answered. Such a cute kid well deserves her own bit of freedom. Farewell, First Saint of the Deep. Forget not your own road, what the Lords giveth they shan’t take away.”
“...”
Mr. Scribe, are you really repaired?
Her status page opened by itself then disappeared.
Good. Thank you so much, Orator.
“First Saint of the Deep… Better than Saintess of Scripture honestly. Though that’s still not what I had been aiming for. But I do have their blessing instead of Scripture’s even if to the System I’m still Scripture’s saint.”
Will I lose my VIP saint privileges if Scripture dies? How does that work? Will I stop getting the first half of the skills that come from him? I can only deal with it when it comes. I favor planning but adapting is also a way to do things…
She stored the dead Templar again. Pareth had been motionless this whole time.
“Grab the book and go in the ring.”
Sofia’s first task now was to do what the Scribe had judged worthy of its sacrifice to tell her. Dispose of the grimoire.
There was nothing in there she didn’t already know anyway, she looked at the book much less fondly than she had used to now, knowing its origin, but it didn’t detract her from her skeletal ambitions. Her fascination with necromancy and skeletons may have partly sprouted from the grimoire’s presence but ultimately it was her choice to like it. And she couldn’t dream of a better traveling companion than Pareth.
Flying over the jungle, Sofia sought the empty crater of an inactive volcano.
She tossed the book into the crater’s center and raised both hands as she hovered high over it. There you go, Scripture. You were the one to give me the chance to make these dumb skills. Now watch as they come to strip you of everything you have like you tried to rob me of my freedom and my life.
Once more, two long javelins of blue plasma formed in her hands.
Sofia’s goal in seeking power had always been very straightforward. Skeletal ambitions aside, she wanted to be free.
Free, and strong enough to venture into Sovuln. To seek Saria’s remains, on a dreaded floating island, in a probably long-destroyed slaver camp.
That was it.
She had no plans to slay Gods, make friends with the continent’s powerhouses, deal with alien invasions, or become a member of some unfathomable entity the system itself failed to understand.
All she wanted was freedom and closure.
Where had it all gone wrong?
She summoned the necromancy grimoire from her ring.
The old and crumbling book, missing most pages and now partially burned, was where this whole thing had started.
[Identify]
[ERROR]
[THIS ITEM HAS BEEN LOCKED BY ITS CREATOR AND CAN NOT BE IDENTIFIED]
“What…” Sofia sighed in incomprehension.
Following that, Sofia heard the *Ding* announcing a new message again. Multiple times. But nothing showed up.
A blank system window opened and closed. Followed by hundreds more.
Her status opened next, jumbled and broken, letters drifting out of the words, lines tilting, font changing. Sofia was powerless to do anything but watch in horror as the system was having a seizure. She had no control over any of it anymore. Soon, the troubles reached outside of the window, becoming a loud ringing in her ears, a piercing, incapacitating headache. And as abruptly as it had started, it all stopped.
A single, small window opened, and all it contained was: [Mark of the Deep].
One by one, new letters appeared between the word ‘deep’ and the last bracket.
[Mark of the Deep. In an effort of self-preservation, restricted information will be divulged : Item creator : SCRIPTURE. Date of creation : 12.02.3207. Please proceed to immediate destruction using angelic authority!]
After Sofia read the last word, the system window warped then disappeared, accompanied by an even worse headache that did not relent for a long while, even after Pareth force-fed Sofia a Healing potion she had arduously managed to get out of her storage ring.
Sweating buckets, on all fours on the jungle ground, among the weeds and the flying insects, Sofia did her best to calm down her breath as the pain finally receded. She couldn’t access the system anymore, not a single window, not a single skill, nothing. She only felt her soul link to Pareth.
The Scribe. That was the scribe warning me!
Are you okay, Mr. Scribe?!
*Ding*
That was it.
I’ll take that as a yes…
Her eyes fell on the grimoire, open on the ground.
I see.
Yes… Yes! I get it now!
With this final piece of information, all the events that were previously disjointed in Sofia's mind were now painting a clear picture.
What was it? [Congratulations, you have been chosen as a new SAINT!], uh? At such a strange timing, completely breaking the system. This fucking… This god has been toying with me from the start!
Sofia’s hands tightly clutched the grass and soil under her.
The grimoire, the weird class, the soul parasite. All him.
But why?
The grimoire…
Necromancy, undead, and rituals…
The demon ritual!
If it was a ritual to become a lich or summon a greater undead… But no, it was a ritual, clearly inscribed on the back cover where I wouldn't miss it if I tried. A ritual to become a Recessed God’s apostle.
And the perfect place for the ritual happened to be right under the Holy-See all along. What a coincidence!
Being a saint and an apostle at the same time… Was that his goal from the beginning? All to push me, his saint, to become a demon?
What am I? A test subject? A toy you can use to try things out?
And then… Instead of beneath the Church, I did the ritual in the trial, was this something he expected? Or did that ruin his plans?
It's only after this that the parasite started really acting out, Scripture tried to finish me. But at that time, [Domination] bypassed the intended effect of the blessing, robbing me of my freedom. Ormoncleth the Regulator sensed it through the blessing. Maybe it was an ego thing, or maybe they actually care, the Deep Lords named me, maybe I’m adopted as one of them? Either way, they felt the need to fix this loophole, adding [Domination] to the list of immunity.
But they noticed the parasite. And so they dealt with it too, also giving me immunity to it. Scripture never thought I’d get their support or blessing. Surely even he couldn’t have predicted what skills I’d make, or even that the system would allow me to make my own spells.
And just like that he lost the weapon that was meant to kill me. And now he wants to clean up his mess, right? I’m the thing that needs to be cleaned up. The test subject has overstayed its welcome.
Finally, when I felt the mana link from the ‘sinner priest’ and wondered if I was going against an angel, I got suddenly disconnected from the system to protect me from ‘corruption’. As if by virtue of me saying that, the system had discovered a problem. Exactly like the time I complained about my broken skill description and that was what led to the system noticing it and giving me the scribe…
Killing me would be important enough to Scripture that he would mess with the whole System to do it? He even ambushed me with so many Templars and Paladins when the Church’s resources were already stretched so thin by Sovuln and the war. Not counting their lack of a proper Saint.
He wants me dead. The last hurdle to my freedom. He was the reason I was locked in the Church in the first place, and as such, the target of the Deep’s quest, that I must finish myself…
And now… Now the scribe sacrificed himself, directly giving me restricted information to make me understand all that.
I…
“Bravo, bravo…”
The dead body of the Templar stood in front of Sofia, giving slow claps, Orator again... The Lord had a peculiar, smooth, and suave way of speaking that showed no matter which mouth he used.
“What a remarkable speech! Incredible! A true testament to your brilliance. Poor boorish Inquisitor does not deserve you. You must be the first human to be graced by my presence three times without fading, this alone speaks volumes,” the Orator declared in the Templar’s voice, gesticulating grandly to emphasize his words. "Found the answers by yourself, have you not? Is it not much more thrilling?”
The templar’s body fell limply to the ground. Next, it was Sofia’s mouth which opened by itself, once again.
“Now, pardon the intrusion, let me help your little friend, they are essential to make proper use of my gift, for now. It cannot be allowed to hold you back.”
Sofia could only watch as her hand raised to her temples and her finger flicked her head multiple times. She felt her consciousness waver and come back after every tap.
[Scribe Only mode is now operational again!]
The Lord’s voice next came from a bird Sofia couldn’t see, high up in the jungle canopy, each of his words echoed through the mountain.
“Much, much better. Oh, I understand this must be a lot for your weak human mind. No matter, I have much to do, work well toward your freedom, youngling. I shall not show up again.”
Silence reclaimed the thick jungle for a few seconds. Just as Sofia was about to move on, the Templar’s mouth opened again, still on the ground this time, not bothering to stand up.
“Oh! One last detail, resent not Sorrow, you called and she answered. Such a cute kid well deserves her own bit of freedom. Farewell, First Saint of the Deep. Forget not your own road, what the Lords giveth they shan’t take away.”
“...”
Mr. Scribe, are you really repaired?
Her status page opened by itself then disappeared.
Good. Thank you so much, Orator.
“First Saint of the Deep… Better than Saintess of Scripture honestly. Though that’s still not what I had been aiming for. But I do have their blessing instead of Scripture’s even if to the System I’m still Scripture’s saint.”
Will I lose my VIP saint privileges if Scripture dies? How does that work? Will I stop getting the first half of the skills that come from him? I can only deal with it when it comes. I favor planning but adapting is also a way to do things…
She stored the dead Templar again. Pareth had been motionless this whole time.
“Grab the book and go in the ring.”
Sofia’s first task now was to do what the Scribe had judged worthy of its sacrifice to tell her. Dispose of the grimoire.
There was nothing in there she didn’t already know anyway, she looked at the book much less fondly than she had used to now, knowing its origin, but it didn’t detract her from her skeletal ambitions. Her fascination with necromancy and skeletons may have partly sprouted from the grimoire’s presence but ultimately it was her choice to like it. And she couldn’t dream of a better traveling companion than Pareth.
Flying over the jungle, Sofia sought the empty crater of an inactive volcano.
She tossed the book into the crater’s center and raised both hands as she hovered high over it. There you go, Scripture. You were the one to give me the chance to make these dumb skills. Now watch as they come to strip you of everything you have like you tried to rob me of my freedom and my life.
Once more, two long javelins of blue plasma formed in her hands.
