Solarspire (Rise to Omniscience Book 4) Read online

  SOLARSPIRE

  Rise to Omniscience

  Book Four

  Aaron Oster

  For my brother. You really do know how to make me laugh!

  Hee-Haw!

  Prologue

  Arnold bent his head as another freezing gust of wind buffeted his numb body, sending his torn clothes flapping and snapping around him. The wind carried along with it a spray of white powder that momentarily blinded him to his surroundings.

  Not that there’s much to see out here anyway, he thought, body shivering against the cold.

  He’d been walking for well over two weeks now, feeling the tugging sensation in his chest pulling him ever northward. The vastness of the open tundra would have had him hopelessly lost, had it not been for that sensation. The landscape for miles around was pure white, broken only by the occasional gray of stone when the wind blew hard enough to clear off some of the snow. Snowdrifts abounded as well, some being as tall as the sand dunes in the West Kingdom. In short, this was a treacherous place where nothing could hope to survive.

  He’d passed the last settlement – a small village some hundred or so miles to the south – nearly a week and a half ago. Instead of stopping there to gather supplies and perhaps buy some warmer clothes, he’d moved on, trusting in his high Constitution to see him through. That had been a huge mistake.

  While he had been fine initially, the air had grown noticeably colder the further north he went. By this point, all he could do was keep moving.

  Arnold had not felt cold like this since he’d advanced to rank 19 nearly eighty years ago. It was not a pleasant sensation, and definitely not one he had missed. He inwardly berated himself for forgetting how cold the North had become when he’d been watching that glacier for Loquin. It would figure that the cold would only grow worse as time went on, especially if there really was something down there that was calling to him.

  More than once, Arnold had wondered if he might be losing it. He questioned if there was actually someone or something calling to him. But he decided that whether he was crazy or not, he’d already committed to this course of action. If he was crazy, then the cold would probably end up killing him, something which he’d been about to do anyway. And, if by some miracle he wasn’t crazy, then perhaps his life could have some meaning again.

  Another icy blast of wind tore at him, but Arnold was so numb at this point that he could hardly feel it. His eyes were constantly streaming, his lips were dry and cracked, and his stomach rumbled endlessly. The cold had a way of sapping one’s strength, and if it was cold enough to actually threaten the life of a rank 38 Super, then it must be cold indeed.

  He’d been this far north before, and from previous experience, it never went above -50 degrees Fahrenheit. A temperature that cold had hardly affected him at all. He guessed that it would have to be somewhere around -90 to -100 for him to really feel cold. And if he was this close to freezing, then it must be somewhere in the -150 range and growing colder by the hour. By his estimate, he had another two or three hours at best before his body simply gave up on him.

  Had he been a lesser man, Arnold was sure he would have given up by now. But he had something that most didn’t; a drive to repay all those who had wronged him. Two people, in particular, were at the forefront of his mind, and that was what had kept him going thus far.

  Morgan and Loquin will pay, he thought, feeling the heat of his conviction spurring him ever onward. No matter how long it takes, they will pay.

  An immense shadow suddenly loomed out of the whirling snow, and Arnold crashed into the side of an immense ice flow. He blinked a few times, his numbed mind taking a long moment to figure out what had just happened. Then he felt it.

  The tugging sensation in his chest intensified, and, turning his head to his right, Arnold could make out the faint outline of a small cabin.

  The outpost where Grub and I were stationed, he realized after a few seconds of squinting through the snow.

  Tiredly, he forced himself forward once more, knowing that the crack in the ice flow would be nearby. That was where he’d be heading. The thought of what happened to Grub briefly flitted through his mind as he trudged toward the large crack that was slowly coming into view.

  Had the boy survived?

  Arnold shrugged to himself. It really didn’t matter either way, and he was too tired to take even a small detour and check inside the small cabin.

  The air grew colder as Arnold entered the icy tunnel, despite now being protected from the never-ending gusts of freezing air. He had no idea how it was even possible, but waves of cold seemed to flow down the tunnel, washing over him and seeping down to his very bones.

  He stumbled on, shuffling down the ever-declining tunnel, occasionally slipping on the icy floor and making his way deeper into the icy cave. As he walked, Arnold began noticing creatures at the periphery of his vision. They appeared to be vaguely human but were twisted and disfigured so horribly that they couldn’t possibly be. That was not to mention the large manes of shaggy white fur that seemed to sprout from odd parts of their bodies.

  None of the strange creatures bothered him or posed a threat, so Arnold just ignored them. The tugging in his chest was so powerful now that he almost felt as though his core was being pulled from his chest.

  The ice flow had looked massive from the outside the last time he had seen it, but he hadn’t realized just how deep underwater it must have gone. It took him well over an hour before the tunnel began to level out, and a further half-hour before he saw a glint of light at the end.

  By this point, he was more dead than alive. His breaths were shallow and uneven, his entire body was numb, and his chi-heart fluttered uncertainly in his chest. But he’d made it.

  Arnold stumbled out of the tunnel and found himself in a wide-open cavern. In the center sat an icy throne large enough to hold a dire-flame bear. His eyes traveled over the throne to the large slab of stone occupying the far side of the cavern.

  Icy chains wrapped the stone, bound to the floor and hanging from the ceiling above. That wasn’t what had Arnold’s attention. His eyes were fixed on the glowing pair of slitted amber eyes staring back at him from on top of the stone slab. The beast had massive furry white arms, rippling with corded muscle. It flexed, and with a sharp ping, one of the chains binding the beast shattered, sending a cascade of ice fragments falling to the ground below.

  “You have come.”

  Despite being almost completely numb, Arnold shivered at the sound of the voice in his head. It was deep and gravelly, yet in a tone so cold and uncaring that it made his heart tremble in fear. Despite that, or maybe because of it, Arnold found himself approaching the altar on which the beast was bound and dropping to his knees.

  “Yes,” he answered, his voice dry and cracked from his long journey. “You called, and I came.”

  He could feel the beast scrutinizing him, weighing him with those brilliant amber eyes. A shiver passed over his core, and he felt as though the beast were staring into his very soul.

  “I can see that your resolve has not wavered, human. Tell me, what would you do if I gave you power?”

  Arnold slowly looked up, his eyes meeting the beast’s. His mind was still sluggish, so it took him a few moments to respond.

  “I would do whatever you asked of me, though I would like to destroy those who drove me to this point.”

  The beast’s eyes crinkled slightly at the corners, his blue lips turning up in a cold approximation of a smile. Arnold could glimpse enlarged canines - and something else that he couldn’t be quite sure of - before the smile vanished.

  “Very well, human. Place your hand on my arm, and I shall gi
ve you the power you desire.”

  Arnold swallowed once, licking his dry and cracked lips, and he tasted his own blood. He reached out a trembling hand and laid it on the beast’s furry arm. The cold was so intense that it burned, and he let out an involuntary cry of pain as it seared his flesh.

  He instinctively tried to yank his hand back but found it stuck fast to the beast. Then, before he could try again, a rush of power flooded into him, making the pain of just seconds before seem paltry in comparison.

  A soundless cry of agony tore itself from Arnold’s throat as power flooded his veins. He could feel his muscles tearing and reforming, bones breaking and knitting themselves back together, and his skin splitting as fur forced its way through to the surface.

  Arnold could feel the foreign energy entering his core, mixing with his chi and dying it a deep crimson, as opposed to the bright red of normal chi. At the same time, he felt a feral, bestial presence attempt to wrestle control of his mind. Despite the overwhelming agony, Arnold fought back. He and the beast wrestled for what seemed like ages. Even as the pain in his body receded, and his hand came unstuck from the beast, he fought on, his will clashing with that of the foreign invader.

  Finally, after what seemed like days to him, Arnold battered the beast into submission, exterminating it from existence. What little remained of the beast fled into his core, where it remained, silent and still.

  He lay on his back, panting heavily and staring up at the icy ceiling above. It was only then that he realized that he was no longer cold. In fact, it felt as though he were lying on a warm bed and not on ground made of solid ice.

  “Oh.” The beast’s voice sounded in his mind once again. “It would appear that you survived with your mind and will intact. I was hoping that you would, but the process can be…taxing.”

  “What…do you mean?” Arnold was surprised when his voice came out deeper than usual. He could also feel that his canines had become enlarged, and his tongue was wider and flatter.

  “Why don’t you take a look for yourself?” the beast simply replied.

  Arnold did just that. He sat up and stared down at himself. To his amazement and shock, his body looked almost nothing like it had before. He was now covered in a sheen of white-gray fur. His clothes had been torn off somehow, but the fur covered him from head to toe. His arms now bulged with muscle, seeming longer than before as well. His hands were wide, and his palms were a leathery gray and free of all fur.

  Feeling at his face, he could feel that it was free of fur as well, though the skin felt leatherier than it had before. Getting slowly to his feet, Arnold swayed uncertainly. It appeared that he’d somehow gained nearly a foot in height, easily topping seven feet. Although his physical changes made him drastically different than before, it wasn’t what was the most shocking to him. The greatest change he could feel was in the intensity of the power coming from his core.

  Opening his status, Arnold gaped. He’d somehow been pushed all the way to the maximum rank of 50! Though how, he had no idea. He could also see a veritable slew of new skills. Even his ability had changed. He was now referred to as a Bestial Super, not that he had any idea what that meant. What he did know was that he was now more powerful than he had ever been, or likely, could ever hope to have become on his own.

  His eyes turned back to the beast lying on the slab of stone. He somewhat resembled him now, though the beast was still far more intimidating. And quite a bit larger.

  “Are you pleased with your newfound power, my minion?” the beast asked, speaking directly into his mind once again.

  Arnold nodded, feeling that same, incomprehensible power radiating out from it, though he couldn’t be sure as to how.

  “Good. I am glad that you have become so mighty. You are only the second to retain your wits after tasting my power. The others turned into those mindless beasts you saw on your way in. And while they do have their uses, they are limited to only the most basic of instructions.”

  Arnold nodded, now understanding fully the situation he was in. He could instinctively feel that what this beast said was true. He could also feel a compulsion, a desperate desire to please this beast. His…master.

  “What are my orders?”

  The Pinnacle King smiled.

  “You and the other will take a force and head for the closest settlement. There, you will spread my influence. The time has come for the North to fall under the control of its true master.”

  “And who is this other?”

  “That would be me.”

  Arnold turned at the vaguely familiar-sounding voice, his eyes widening when he recognized the features of Grub, staring back at him from a hideous visage. While the boy had always been a bit plump, now he was massive. Standing at well over six and a half feet, his entire body seemed to balloon outward, layers of fat coating his entire frame.

  Unlike him, Grub was completely hairless, aside from a small patch of hair on top of his walrus-like face.

  “I do not mean to question you, Master, but how will that keep up with me?” Arnold asked, turning away from Grub in disgust.

  Arnold’s senses suddenly screamed of an imminent threat of danger, and he instinctively spun, throwing an arm up to block his face. An icy fist slammed into his arm, jarring it to the bone and sending a chill throughout his entire body.

  He stared, disbelieving, into the small, piggy eyes of Grub, who had somehow covered the span of the cavern in a blink and attacked. His body was now covered in layers of icy armor, and cold radiated off him in waves.

  Arnold growled, reaching inside himself and activating a skill of his own. Decimation was a skill that had replaced his Concave skill but was far more devastating. It would obliterate the walrus before him, armor and all.

  “Enough!”

  Both Arnold and Grub suddenly found themselves slammed to the ground as an immense pressure landed on them, both their skills snuffed out like a candle in the wind.

  “I will not have my only sentient minions squabbling like a couple of newborn cubs. You will do as commanded!”

  The pressure on both of them increased even further, and Arnold could feel his bones beginning to groan under the pressure.

  “Yes! I understand,” he gasped, feeling fear spiking through him as the pressure increased yet again.

  Finally, Grub answered as well.

  “I…understand!”

  Only then did the pressure vanish, allowing them both to rise to their feet.

  Gasping for air, Arnold did so, staring with newfound fear and respect at the beast bound to the slab of stone. Grub shuffled over to stand next to him, and the Pinnacle King delivered his orders.

  “I require power to free myself. The more humans that are turned to my cause, the more power I will gain. At my current rate, it will take me well over half a year to free myself. But, with your help, that can be accomplished much sooner. Now go. Take the mindless ones with you and spread my influence. You will have the power to infect others as I have done to you.

  “If there are any who survive with their minds intact, they will return to me for further orders. Now, do you have any questions?”

  Arnold could sense that this was a rhetorical question. The master had explained himself, questioning him now would only displease him, yet he had to know one thing.

  “Yes, Master. What do I call you? So that I may spread your name so all may fear you.”

  Grub snorted beside him in derision, but the beast’s lips turned up in a grin. It seemed that flatter was not lost, even on one such as him.

  “You will call me Master, but, to the world, I am known as Octagon the Bitter, Pinnacle King of Winter!”

  ***

  Samuel stared down tiredly at the display of the Five Kingdoms spread before him. He could clearly see where Octagon’s influence was spreading and could already see the telltale signs of his world coming apart. At this rate, it wouldn’t be long before his world crumbled, and his life was forfeit.

  It had been ne
arly a month since the Skyflare tournament had ended, but thus far, he’d kept his distance from Morgan. He’d attempted to nudge him towards the Pinnacle King several times, but hadn’t had any luck. He was sure Loquin was trying her best as well, though he couldn’t really see what she’d been doing as she’d been oddly absent for the last few weeks.

  Either way, Samuel was impatient. It was time for him to talk to Morgan himself and hope he could convince him of going after Octagon. Morgan was currently located in the North Kingdom’s capital, City One, inside the palace where he’d been staying for the last few weeks. Katherine had been putting him and Sarah up there since they’d helped her claim the throne from her father.

  He also suspected that she had ulterior motives for keeping Morgan there, though that didn’t interest him in the least. At the moment, Morgan was alone, so he could just pop down there and try and have a chat with him.

  Stepping away from the large living map of the Five Kingdoms, Samuel concentrated on Morgan’s location, using his will to bend the world to his wishes. Normally, space would warp around him, and he would find himself standing in the location he’d envisioned. This time, however, nothing happened.

  He frowned, feeling his connection to Somerset suddenly cut off. This had never happened before. In fact, it shouldn’t even have been possible. Unless…

  Gold materialized before him, a massive, shit-eating grin plastered across his face. Of course, it had been him.

  “What do you think you’re doing?” Samuel asked heatedly.

  “Blocking you from going down there, of course,” Gold replied. “Isn’t it obvious.”

  “You know you can’t keep me locked up here forever, right?” Samuel replied, furrowing his brows and slamming his will against that of Gold’s.

  In power, they were fairly evenly matched, though it was much harder to contain someone than it was to break free. Samuel knew that if he exerted just the right amount of pressure, he would be able to do exactly that.