“RAINMAKER!”

  Carried by the winds, Odin’s voice stretched to a land far distant.

  …

  Flowers bloomed around the base of a mountain. The once rough terrain now stood weathered to a smooth surface, while surrounding rocks bore a pristine sheen.

  All because of a single phenomenon.

  Rain.

  It fell incessantly, beating upon the flattened base of the mountain, and upon a figure hovering cross-legged above the land.

  This figure, whose skin seemed to have been carved from pure obsidian, had dark-blue hair that was cut low, as well as a beard and mustache. He wore a simple three-layered ascetic robe known to the Bangla tribe as Kasaya.

  His exposed left arm featured tree-like cracks, a testament to his druidic descent.

  He remained in meditation for the longest time, until finally, the rain carried a faint hum into his ears.

  The man opened his eyes. They were dark blue.

  “When the night flowers bloom, it is a show of benevolence from rain. When the orchard path withers, it is a result of water’s fury.”

  He unfolded his legs and began walking–upside down–along rain droplets.

  “Water is life. Rain is the path.”

  As he uttered those words, his figure slowly faded from that unknown island.

  …

  When he re-emerged, The Rainmaker found himself amidst a terrible battle. Three colossal forms blotted out the sky, their mere presence causing the heavens to rage ceaselessly. The sea below was boiling, and numerous corpses of lesser creatures littered the surface.

  Watching the immense image of Odin struggle against the squid and serpent, the Rainmaker exhaled softly. Unlike the Stormbringer, this druid wasted no time tapping into his Deviation.

  He raised his hands to form a triangle above his head, and as his eyes lit up, he declared:

  “Hark, the Five-Fold Way of Water.”

  The raging sky tempered instantly. The dark clouds cleared, giving way for gentle rain that soon encompassed the entire Archipelago.

  The Rainmaker said then, “To you, Stormbringer, I grant everlasting water. You shall thirst no more.”

  His voice commanded the realm, manifesting one of the paramount truths of water into reality. The gentle rain fell upon Odin's colossal form, and every crack, injury, strain, erased without pause.

  Caught in between the grip of both leviathans, Odin abruptly opened his eyes. He felt completely rejuvenated. This wasn't mere healing, it was a restoration on a vastly profound level—a cleansing of the mind, spirit, and body. And so long as he was beneath the rain, he would not sustain any damage.

  “Ah! That's more like it!” Odin roared and, all of a sudden, grabbed one of Genod’s tentacles. The creature’s eyes flickered with horror, and it tried slithering away.

  Yet, Odin's grip was unshakeable.

  “Where do you think you're going?”

  Ignoring the Obinimi's ferocious bite on his shoulder, he dragged the squid across the sky, before launching it straight into a lone island. As the behemoth crashed into jagged rocks and trees, a colossal trident forged from flaring lightning stabbed into its core, pinning it down.

  It let out a deafening cry that shook the sky for leagues around.

  Meanwhile, Rainmaker made another hand sign. “Hateful beast, to you, I grant the woes of rain.”

  Almost immediately, the raindrops surrounding the Obinimi became as ferocious as lava and as heavy as boulders. They struck the creature’s scales with rage, melting away flesh that sizzled and popped like fried gulls.

  The immense pain caused the creature to finally release its grip on Odin.

  “Doesn't feel so good, does it?!” Odin let out a hearty laugh and swung his fist immediately, striking the serpent’s head to the water below.

  Then, his figure shrank to mundane size and flew next to the Rainmaker.

  “What took you so long?” He clicked his tongue.

  The Rainmaker smiled and gave him a pat on his shoulder. He said, “My brother, destiny cannot be rushed. Similarly, it is inevitable, as is my arrival.”

  Odin resisted the urge to roll his eyes. He opened his mouth to speak, but a slight shift in space caused him to frown. When he looked around, he realized he was being pulled towards the crumbling island the now-free Genod was clinging to.

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  “This damned creature and its grasp over directions!” Odin’s disdain grew twofold. “Kun, hold back that oversized serpent while I teach this fool a lesson!”

  Nodding, the Rainmaker sat on the surface of the sky, cross-legged, and began a simple meditation. A whisper escaped his obsidian lips, “Water remembers.”

  The raindrops all around him suddenly froze, shuddered, then, in a beautiful dance, coalesced to mimic the image of the King of Leviathans.

  In that battle, another Obinimi emerged from the memory of water.

  …

  Ruins of Valkara,

  A squirming mass of flesh collapsed to the side of a wall and slowly reverted to the form of Konan. Despite the horrendous battle that had unfolded, he appeared unscathed, nor was there a single drop of blood around him.

  His blood, at least.

  A distance from where the Barbarian rested, Amur’s figure lay on the battered street, his body riddled with holes.

  Konan watched the man's unmoving frame for a while, before picking up a pebble and tossing it across the street. He sighed, wiped his nose, and said, “The battle ended as such because you denied aiding yourself with that artifact.”

  He then gazed into the distance.

  “I wonder how the battle is going over there. If Odin and Saturn are struggling to bring the fight to a conclusion, the enemy must be rather daunting.”

  As he contemplated heading towards the fleeing people, Konan’s premonition for danger suddenly spiked.

  He lowered his body on instinct, and a blade whistled across where his head previously stood.

  Konan rolled across the dirt, before leaping to his feet and landing a good distance away. His eyes narrowed.

  “Sneak attacks aren't very proper.”

  “Good thing I have been improper all my life.” A taunting voice responded from the darkness. Konan couldn't see the person no matter how much he tried. This wasn't simple concealment. It was as though his very mind refused to acknowledge the entity’s presence, thereby rendering them invisible.

  He scowled.

  “Visionary.”

  Just as he said that, his body twisted unnaturally, and he evaded yet another strike aimed at his abdomen. Konan took the chance to lurch forward and slam his shoulder into the invisible figure.

  He heard a tiny grunt, followed by the sound of something shattering.

  Konan blinked twice at that moment. It seemed as though a veil had been lifted from his eyes.

  His opponent's body, which lay dead in the middle of the street, had vanished without a trace. Similarly, the pristine crystal stationed nearby was missing.

  Konan quickly realized there had been two enemies. However, he couldn't be sure how long for. When had the Visionary joined the clash? How much of his mind had been tampered with?

  For him not to have noticed anything till now, the other party had to be the extremely patient and careful type.

  “I despise mind worms,” He said, reaching to grab the malleable hammer; Riot. “You folks only know how to use dirty tricks.”

  “What would you have me do? Engage in a fist-fight with someone I have no way of inflicting damage upon?” The voice laughed from somewhere on the street, feminine, with a euphonious ring to it.

  The Gentleman Barbarian was on high alert. Usually, Visionaries weren't known for frontal confrontation. For one to engage in direct combat, they had to be sufficiently certain of victory.

  So, knowing that his own mind was about to become the third enemy, he closed his eyes and stopped thinking altogether, an act that would be otherwise impossible if he wasn't from the Body Ascent.

  His shell stilled, frozen in that combat-ready stance, a single command echoing through his bones: vanquish the enemy.

  Having erased her physical form from his mind, Esmerelda was like a phantom in the night. She weaved through collapsed structures and rubble, rushing at Konan from blind angles.

  In her hand was a beautiful crystalline blade that seemed to trap light. She swung with the malice of a killer— a single strike meant to sever his head.

  Esmerelda had in fact been lying when she mentioned having no way to inflict damage upon him. She currently wielded the unconscious Amur’s artifact; Mercury—a blade manifested from the remains of a Radiant Paragon.

  Konan’s frozen figure twitched at that moment. His hand twisted unnaturally as he blocked the blade’s path with Riot. The hammer warped, transforming into a set of jagged teeth that chomped on the blade.

  A slight shuffle, and Konan’s body followed up with a heavy fist. It was aimed at whoever held the hilt of the blade.

  The shell’s fist met air, as Esmerelda jumped away in time, however, having to relinquish her hold on Mercury.

  Konan’s body reverted to a battle-ready stance, now holding both artifacts.

  “Hm.”

  The Witch of White observed the sight with a slight curl to her lips. She didn't engage in another fruitless round with him, simply taking a step back and saying, “I've always been curious, does being a Vessel allow you to take the form of others?”

  Konan’s body rotated in a strange fashion and steadily advanced towards the voice.

  Esmerelda chuckled. She took a few steps back and continued, “I haven't seen any of your kind at the Paragon grade, so it's hard to say. But, if you're able to shapeshift, wouldn't it also be possible to mimic another person's appearance?”

  “And in doing so, would it be possible to reflect their powers too?” Esmerelda engaged in a game of cat and mouse with Konan’s mindless body. Even knowing it could not understand her, she rambled on, as though trying to bide her time.

  She was.

  Because after a while, the shell stopped moving. Then, it juddered violently, seemingly on the verge of collapse.

  “Ah, finally,” Esmerelda pulled back the hood of her cloak, allowing her pristine white hair to flow freely. Her eyes flickered as she explained to no one in particular, “Do you know why Amur despises using that artifact? It is actually a double-edged sword, due to its insidious trait.”

  “Mercury’s main attribute is corroding the essence of whatever it comes in contact with, thereby rendering the target’s ability ineffective. If I had managed to cut you with that blade, you wouldn't have been able to restore yourself. However, Mercury doesn't distinguish between friend or foe, so the wielder is also susceptible to that terrible trait. The longer it is held, the more its vile Essence pours into the wielder.”

  Her smile widened.

  “And when that happens? I can simply say: burst.”

  As the word left her mouth, the imposing shell of the Barbarian swelled with multiple vile tumors, before erupting in a nauseating show of blackened blood and rotting flesh. The blood stained the walls, some splattering onto Esmerelda, who shielded her face with her hand.

  Just like that… Konan the Barbarian had lost.

  Esmerelda took a whiff of the air around her. She exhaled gleefully and stretched her arms. Her cloak fluttered, revealing the leather garb she wore underneath, as well as a dark orb which was fastened to her belt.

  “Frankly, I used my entire reserves of Essence to activate Miadigasiri’s gem last night, so I'm not even close to half power. I would've definitely lost in a dragged out battle.”

  She chuckled then. “But as Visionaries, who understands the human mind better than we do?”

  Esmerelda knew the Barbarian, being a Vessel, would choose to shut out his consciousness in a battle against someone who could influence minds. And in doing so, rid himself of the only way to detect the inflow of corrupted Essence from Mercury.

  She had allowed the empty husk to secure the insidious artifact on purpose. Then, all she had to do was wait until it completely took over his body.

  Konan’s strategy had been his downfall.

  Esmerelda glanced at the limp figure of Amur. “I should wrap up here and get you to a healer.” She grinned, her eyes flashing with sudden malevolence. “Or, I could just watch you bleed to death. Wouldn't that be exciting?”

  As she approached him, contemplating helping or surrendering to her depraved whims, a sudden voice sparked to life behind her:

  “I know what you look like.”

  The Witch of White froze in her steps. Her gleeful smile slowly dimmed as she turned around. Her eyes scanned the ruined street, and in a few heartbeats, she saw it.

  A piece of flesh which stuck splattered to a damaged stall had strangely grown a mouth.

  The mouth opened and repeated, “I know what you look like, now.”

  It continued after a brief chuckle, “You really shouldn't underestimate the experience of a Pirate. One who has been at sea for more than forty years, no less.”

  Esmerelda stared at the mouth for a while. She then smiled tenderly and sighed. “Okay, I might’ve been a tad bit too confident. But what can you do? Describe my appearance to the authorities? The churches? I've lived right under their noses for longer than you can imagine.”

  “How about passing the information to two Paragons seething with hate for you?” Konan interjected.

  That caused Esmerelda to pause for multiple heartbeats.

  “Hm,” She pursed her lips. “That would indeed be quite troublesome, but I have powerful companions of my own.”

  “That so?” the mouth laughed. “Well then, let me leave you with this. A Vessel is capable of influencing any shell containing the faintest trace of their Essence.”

  Esmerelda frowned.

  Then, suddenly remembering something, she looked at her right hand.

  The blackened patches of blood had seeped into her skin without her knowing.

  “You wouldn't dare…”

  But Konan dared anyway. He was a gentleman, truly, but a barbarian most of all.

  “Burst.” He mimicked, and Esmerelda's hand exploded with a violent rupture, her blood spilling across the air.

  The maliciously beautiful lady dropped to her knees and let out a terrible wail, filled with immense pain and hatred. Yet, it was drowned by the harsh cackle of the Gentleman Barbarian. What was left of him, anyway.

  “We shall meet again.” He said, before the piece of flesh disintegrated fully.

  …

  On the Pillager, in a large chamber…

  A lengthy wooden table was decorated with all sorts of dishes. Except, upon closer look, the food mostly consisted of raw animals and a few human limbs.

  A figure sat at the head of the table. The figure had oily black hair that fell down his shoulders, as well as pitch-black eyes. He held a knife and fork as he ate with the finesse of a Noble.

  Behind him, a number of lifeless shells—which bore the same appearance—were hung to dry on metal rods.

  “I lost Riot, but still, how verily exquisite.” The Gentleman Barbarian smiled.