Die. Respawn. Repeat.

Chapter 272: Series Epilogue

"Okay, so you're saying you can make these machines work with the Interface?" Thys says, eyeing me skeptically. We're back in the Quiet Grove, now empty and devoid of the four shacks that we'd spent months of our lives in. To fulfil the paradox, we're going to need to actually build the facilities we used, all the way down to the training machines that were somehow able to simulate battles and award us with credits and points.

At the time, I had no idea how we'd managed to acquire that kind of technology. Even Gheraa didn't really have any clue—the Integrators didn't have access to anything that could so easily abuse the Interface's features. Now, of course, we know exactly how those machines were built, because we've built them.

Turns out all we needed were administrator privileges for the Interface.

"I'm saying I already made them work with the Interface," I tell Thys. The kobold blinks.

"What? But you didn't even do anything." He squints at the machines. "Did you?"

"Had it done the moment I came in," I say, chuckling. "Thanks again for doing all this. You and all your siblings."

"Well, you did kind of save our planet," Thys says, doing nothing to hide how delighted he is by the praise. "Besides, imagine the marketing! We built the training facilities that helped Ethan Hill defeat the Sunken King himself!"

"An aspect of the Sunken King," I say. Thys waves a hand dismissively.

"Same thing," he says. "Plus, this is good for us. We're actually building things that aren't giant mechs. Not that we're going to stop building those, but every artist needs a little variety."

"Of course, of course," I say. "I'll leave you to it. Thanks again, Thys."He waves at me, yells something unintelligible to his siblings, and goes right back to reinforcing the walls of the simulator. I chuckle and make my way back to the surface, pausing for a moment to look at the Grove. It looks so different.

It's busy, for one thing. Half a dozen former loopers are here, helping with the building and the planting; Lilia, for example, is busy helping put the roofs into place. The sight of it all makes me smile. It's good to see everyone working together, and even better to see how many loopers decided to stay.

Not all of them had. Some of them had lived too long, they said. But a lot of them—most of them, even—chose to find new lives. Fyran and Ghost are both still here, for example, although I'm surprised by Fyran's choice to stay for the moment. He says he'll see his daughter again soon, and I have no doubt he's right, but for now, he wants to help Hestia rebuild.

It looks like he's made some friends, judging by the small crowd around him. Fyran spots me and immediately waves enthusiastically, but there's a spark of mischief in his Firmament...

I narrow my eyes. Not his fans, then. I wave back, though, just to be polite.

Then I Warpstep into Ahkelios's cabin.

I can practically feel Fyran's amusement and indignation rolling off him in waves. He's been trying to get me with one of his little pranks for a while—something about it being inevitable. It's his way of protesting the fact that I'm one of the few former loopers that have managed to evade the majority of my "fans".

Thankfully, my Truth is still stronger than his, for now. I'll have to find him later to tease him about it.

Inside the cabin, Ahkelios speaks up. "So it was just administrator privileges making the machines work?" he asks.

"Yep," I say. "You probably shouldn't have taken that bet with Gheraa."

"I can't believe it," Ahkelios complains, his voice muffled by a pillow he's planted over his face. I can't help but laugh at his antics—he'd missed this bed, apparently, and had planted himself in it and refused to leave almost as soon as we arrived. "I thought we figured out some clever way to hack the Interface or something!"

"Technically, we did," I say, smirking. Ahkelios pulls off the pillow just to huff at me, looking for all the world like he's pouting. The effect is ruined by the blankets he's managed to gather, though. He looks more like a mountain of fabric with a vaguely mantis-like head sticking out of it. "Having fun in there? We're supposed to leave in a minute, you know."

"It's very cozy," Ahkelios says. "We don't exactly get to sleep in beds very often. Also, every time you looped—"

"Yes, yes, I know." The mental image of Gheraa and Ahkelios both stuck inside some sort of time-tumor is still quite fresh in my mind, though I probably find it much funnier than he does. "I could let you stay here if you want. You don't have to follow me."

Ahkelios bolts upright, looking offended. "No!" he says. "I want to see Earth! And help with the rebuilding. And stuff like that."

"But you don't want to go to the meetings."

"Absolutely not." Ahkelios shudders. "Once was enough. Of all the human things you've shown me, your meetings are the worst. Whoever invented those should be shot into the sun."

"You've been spending too much time on the internet," I say with a laugh. He lets out another indignant huff.

"Can you blame me? Your internet has so much stuff!" He gestures wildly with his hands, as if to emphasize how much stuff it has. "Besides, I found a community of tree lovers! I haven't looked at it yet, but I bet they'll love talking about all the trees I found on Hestia."

I raise an eyebrow. "Better make sure it's actually a community about trees," I say, stifling a laugh. Ahkelios just looks confused.

"What do you mean? Why would it not be about trees?" he asks. I'm already opening the door and making my way out, though. Ahkelios scrambles out of his bed to catch up. "Ethan! Why would it not be about trees?!"

"I think yelling in the Quiet Grove is considered sacrilege," I say with a grin.

Ahkelios groans. "You're avoiding the question," he says. "Ethan. Ethan!"

I just snicker and Warpstep away. I'm pretty sure Guard and Harmony will be in Inveria at this time of day, and I want to check in on them before the day is over. Apparently, Soul of Trade has commissioned them for a new painting to be painted all over the central nexus of the city? I'm pretty excited to see what they've come up with.

Ahkelios's yelling isn't far behind me, but some things he'll just have to find out on his own.

"You're sure this is a good idea?" Gheraa asks nervously. I smile at him, giving his shoulder a reassuring squeeze.

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"It's something we have to do," I say. "You're the only one that knows what the Integrators were planning in detail, and you're living proof that Integrators can change. That not all of you are evil."

"Yeah, well..." Gheraa glances away. "A lot of humans don't seem to trust me."

"Give them time," I say, trying to be encouraging. "You earned my trust, didn't you?"

"Technically. Also, I don't know if you remember this, but I died to get it." He sticks his tongue out, and I roll my eyes, but can't help smiling.

"You'll be fine," I say. "And I'll be there to kick the ass of anyone that tries anything funny. Or anyone that even looks at you wrong."

Gheraa sighs, but nods, seeming at least a little reassured from my words. "I guess there's a lot you're going to have to tell them, too," he says. "All that stuff about the greater universe and the Scions. And how we all need to be prepared."

"Yeah, don't remind me," I say dryly. "I wasn't looking forward to this part of it all. At least I've got a speech prepared."

"Didn't Guard write that speech?"

"Yes, but I helped, technically," I say, grinning. Preparing speeches had never really been my strong suit; Guard's speech to Inveria when he unveiled his son's painting, on the other hand, had most of them in tears. "Speaking of which, where is he? And Ahkelios, for that matter. We're supposed to do this bit together."

I almost reach through my bond with them to check, but Gheraa shakes his head. "They're on their way," he says. "Got caught up with a rogue member of the Disconnected, apparently. Not all of them are happy about the Coalition. Or about the fact that we're not just immediately dismantling the Interface."

I grimace. "Yeah, well... that's part of the point of this meeting."

One of many, really. We still need to bring as many planets on board as we can—the sooner we can consolidate our knowledge and technology, the better. Humanity's leaders are... reticent, though, to say the least.

"It's too bad we couldn't get Soul of Trade to bring one of the Disconnected along," I remark, frowning slightly. They're not really a faction as much as they are people that have managed to forcibly tear out the influence of the Interface, but they still tend to have a pretty good handle on the pulse of Integrated planets, as I understand it. "Didn't you have some leverage with her? I remember you making some kind of deal..."

Gheraa coughs, suddenly looking mildly embarrassed. "I didn't ask her for any political favors," he mumbles.

I raise an eyebrow. "In exchange for letting her piggyback off your Firmament? What did you ask her for, then?"

"...Can I tell you later?"

"Absolutely not."

Gheraa laughs a bit at that. "It's kind of stupid," he says. "I thought... I don't know, some of that food in Inveria was pretty good, you know? And Soul of Trade has connections. I asked if she'd be willing to set up the best meal she could at the time of my choosing."

He's silent for a moment. "I was hoping we could have a meal together," he says. "You know. A proper one. Without all this stuff happening that we constantly have to worry about." He waves a hand airily, trying to look nonchalant, but from his complete inability to look me in the eye, I'm pretty sure he's incredibly nervous. I raise an eyebrow at him, then smile.

"Yeah," I say. "That sounds nice."

And it does. I haven't exactly given this kind of thing much thought, considering everything else that's been happening, but it does. Gheraa seems surprised, though.

"Really?" he asks.

"You act like you were expecting me to bite you," I say with a snort. "Is that what I should have done instead?"

Gheraa sputters right as Ahkelios and Guard round the corner. I grin, patting Gheraa on the back as he begins to cough and hack dramatically. "Is he... okay?" Ahkelios asks.

"Oh, he doesn't even need to breathe. I don't know why he's making this into a thing," I say with a laugh. Gheraa makes an indignant sort of noise, but I ignore him and pull him against me, which seems to rather effectively make him go quiet. "You guys ready? This is going to be our greatest challenge yet."

"What, politics?" Ahkelios says with a grimace.

"Yep." I sigh dramatically. "Politics."

It's not like we're unprepared, though. It's not just Guard's speech that we prepared—I consulted with Fyran specifically about this meeting, because it's going to shape how humanity approaches its introduction to the galaxy.

We can't afford to put anything less than our best foot forward. Many of the Integrators are still at large, even with the limitations I've placed over them. The human Trialgoers and the Hestian loopers are doing their best to keep things in order across both Integrated and Disconnected planets, but we need to make our alliances official.

This is it, basically. It's our chance to shape the future of the galaxy.

And according to Fyran, the best way to make an impact and ensure this goes our way?

It's to make sure I dress for the part.

Inspired Evolution: Knight.

"We're doing it our way," I add, my voice slightly distorted by the armor. "Gotta make an impression, after all."

The Knight Inspiration seems amused. "This is not what I am for, you know."

"I hate to say it, but you signed up for this with the whole partnership thing." I shoot it a mental grin, and although it sighs, it seems to smile as well.

"Very well," it says. "Show me how humans do these... politics."

Lhore was in hiding.

She didn't know where any of the other Integrators were. She didn't know why the Interface had simply stopped working, and she didn't know why the dimensional realm she and the other Integrators occupied had fallen apart so rapidly. As far as she could tell, that event had scattered them all across the least inhabited, most hostile Integrated planets imaginable—the ones already ruined by the actions of their Trialgoers.

Her attempts to make contact with the other Integrators hadn't worked. For some reason, the Interface itself refused to respond to her commands, even when she used the master console that was supposed to grant her supreme access.

Normally, even without her skills, she would have been able to crush a good fraction of the impudent whelplings that dared rise against the Integrators. Her Conqueror's presence alone was enough to subdue a large portion of any planet's population. The problem was that when she'd tried that...

That human, showing up like an angry god. His Conqueror's presence dwarfing her own, making her feel—for the first time—as lost and vulnerable as her own power made others. The way she'd grasped for her Firmament and failed, time and time again, and eventually just poured all her power into running.

She cut off the memory and shuddered. What was worse was that it was no longer just Ethan. It had been at first, but... more and more now, other humans seemed to be discovering their ability to Conquer. Had Ethan managed to teach other humans the skill? How?

If that wasn't bad enough, anyone the humans had contact with seemed to develop their skills with the Interface at ludicrously fast rates. It was ridiculous! Like they were... sharing information, or something absurd like that.

So here she was, hiding.

She wouldn't let herself be trapped like this forever. She wouldn't allow these... humans to maintain their dominance over the Integrators.

Lhore had no idea how all this happened, but she was going to find out.

Later, when I have a moment to myself, I glance over my Talents. Defeating Kauku gifted me with Assimilation. That means I have two out of the three Scions' Talents, and it also means the only one I still need to figure out is Abstraction.

And I think I can figure it out. Waiting for someone else to retrieve the Talent is probably going to be a fruitless endeavour, and something like Abstraction is too dangerous for that besides. I remember having a spark of insight back in the Empty City, though, right as I used Eternal Moment to give Adeya's team the time they needed to complete their phase shifts.

There was something there. A power buried in the alignment of Firmament, Truth, and Concept.

No doubt the Scion of Creation had a Truth that aligned well with her Talent—something about imagination, perhaps. If I'm right, then what I need to do is find a Concept that aligns well with my Truth of Change, then empower it with my Firmament. That might be enough to push me the rest of the way into discovering the final Talent and completing the Transcendence Protocol.

What that's going to do... well, Kauku was vague about it. All he left behind was an explanation that it's important—that the feature had been built into the Interface for a reason. It worked to detect the presence of all three of the original Scions' Talents, then do something to coalesce them.

And that something is going to be something I need to deal with the other two Scions, apparently.

I let out a breath.

If they're coming back, we're going to need every advantage we can get.