Universe's End

Chapter 203: Information Warfare

Things had changed a lot for Flair over the years. The Founder returning had injected a shot of caffeine straight into the veins of Ehkorrus, and Flair had just been one of many who'd found themselves riding that tide.

No longer an utterly fresh tier seven, he'd proven himself a genuine rising star over the last eight years. With Kai Rong's ascent to not just a de facto, but a tried-and-true Elite Four-level combatant, the landscape had changed within tier seven. Her former rival had taken the 'throne' as the sole figure just beneath the power level of the Elite Four, a gatekeeper for would-be hopefuls.

Again.

Or so was the case for… a year, maybe two, until she found herself with another upstart rival.

Flair himself.

That had been an interesting final. For the first time, Flair had managed to make his way into the finals, facing the reigning champ of the last two years. Indwelling the power of the former Territory Alpha of the area, she was a beast that no one had managed to reasonably stand against.

Yet her reign as undisputed number one was short-lived, as during that match, he'd proven himself once more, just as he had before against Kai Rong in the first Founder-sponsored tournament two years prior. Having achieved a better grasp of the mind-altering effect of his upgraded Ignition skill, armed with a few extra pieces of Night Copper, and even having gained two extra self-created combat skills, the battle had concluded with Flair's defeat once more, but one that had made it clear that Jaz was once again saddled with a young upstart rival.

Since then, they'd gone back and forth on wins and losses, their matches always an exciting spectacle for the growing fanbase of arena fights.

Yet they didn't hold a candle to bouts between the Elite Four, or the Elite Four against the Chief Protector, the 'ceiling' of what the highest level looked like.

Almost.

Because there was one figure who was never seen fighting, who never participated, one might think the mythical figure was nothing more than a doting, if aloof, father.

The Lord Founder.

Which is why, when his daughter, Roxy the 'Daughter of Design' as she'd been so recently named, had the celebration of her eighteenth birthday and the day of her vocation as a citywide event announced, there had been a specific point that was more interesting than the birthday itself listed.

An exhibition match, and not just a bout between the members of the Elite Four, or the Chief Protector, or any other combination. A bout between the Chief Protector and the Lord Founder.

Which was how, back in the present, Flair found himself with his eyes glued to the arena in front of him, trying to burn everything happening into his memory.

To start the match off, the Chief Protector had casually thrown out an attack that would have overwhelmed anything Flair could manage, short of fully submerging himself in his Ignition, and even then, it still would have been a close call.

It was a show of power that had only been seen in the frantic waves leading up to the return of the Lord Founder; even in matches against the members of the Elite Four, he never busted that move out.

Much less busted it out as the opening shot.

And then the most twisted part? It hadn't done a damn thing. Despite restricting his attributes and using no gear whatsoever, the Lord Founder faced an apocalyptic attack and crushed it.

Well, slashed through it, a downward swipe of his hand had shattered the massive crescent blade of sunlight.

The Chief Protector had tried an assortment of other attacks, even managing to slow light itself, the resulting beam of sunlight carrying a weight of danger that Flair, a fire user, was keenly attuned to.

And still, it didn't matter. Drawing from his legendary arsenal, some rumors stated that it held every weapon ever created, he matched the rays of heavy, physical sunlight with lances shot from portals all around him.

All the while, the mysterious clock framing his back like a sun rising from the horizon continued to tick away.

Eventually, the Chief Protector changed tactics, attempting to face the Lord Founder head-on.

Watching, Flair had to rub his eyes after a moment, unsure if he was seeing things correctly. For the Lord Founder had taken a familiar stance, the same stance that Kai Rong was known for, and held his ground. The sense of déjà vu was only heightened when rings appeared from his portals, but where Kai Rong was limited to eight, dozens appeared around the Founder.

Credit was due for the Chief Protector, though. Even facing an approximation of Kai Rong's style, and many times more rings, he didn't slow one bit. The rings chased and hounded him, but the man effortlessly defended himself, blocking them with his scythe, using well-timed precision beams of sunlight, or simply dodging them, his movements unnatural in a way that made him sometimes appear more like a sunbeam flickering and phasing around the rings.

Eventually, the Chief Protector leapt back, a slight frown on his face as if he was deep in thought. Shrugging, he seemed to have decided on something as he raised his arms overhead, sunlight gathering into a single orb, forming a miniature sun.

Flair half expected him to eventually launch the miniature sun at the Lord Founder, but what he hadn't expected was for the orb of sunlight to eventually crack like an egg as a torrent of golden pneuma washed over the Chief Protector. Rather than harming him, as it would anyone else, the Chief Protector's eyes turned golden, even his hair taking on a golden sheen as he launched forward, faster than ever before, as even Flair struggled to keep up with what was happening.

The Chief Protector, turning into a warrior bathed in golden light, was already impressive, but the fact that the Lord Founder didn't even flinch?

Awe-inspiring.

I want to be like that.

It was a stray thought that had crossed his mind, almost childish. He was a grown man, not a kid playing pretend.

But.

But how could someone not feel inspired watching the battle before them?

Faced with the golden Chief Protector, the Lord Founder held his ground, and Flair realized why, as a moment later, the ground seemed to come alive. Dust and stone were flung into the air, twisting and twirling like a violent cyclone. The Chief Protector launched a barrage of attacks at the Lord Founder, ranging from beams of sunlight to physical strikes with scythe and fist alike. Still, the Lord Founder withstood them, now fully clad in a second skin of earth and stone.

With the clock behind the Lord Founder nearing its zenith, the Chief Protector finally seemed to decide to take a course of action. He'd avoided any large-scale magic since his opening shot had been negated outright, but the time for caution was gone. Raising his scythe overhead, one after another miniature suns blinked into existence, fourteen total. Just the presence of so many mini suns, crackling with heavenly lightning, caused the barriers around the arena floor to strain before taking on a prismatic glow; no doubt, extra power had been redirected into them.

The fourteen suns began to spin overhead until their shared gravity pulled them together; fourteen became one, a single massive orb.

The Lord Founder, facing such an attack of unprecedented scale, seemed to smile, as if remembering something fondly rather than facing a scale of power that would take the combined might of the Elite Four to even hope of pushing back.

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But it was too little, too late. Condensed into a shooting star of unimaginable strength, it froze halfway across the arena, as the arena turned to night. Darkness carpeted everything within the barrier walls, as a million twinkling stars flared to life like pixie dust.

No. That's not right.

Flair wasn't a super seasoned tier seven, but he'd been around the block enough times to have a decent grasp on how different concepts felt.

That wasn't night, it was space. The dark heavens that appeared only when the brilliant light of the twin suns faded. The twinkling stars? Crystals, though not the same kind that Kai Rong could change her body into, even if they were the same blood red coloration.

The awe that Flair felt only multiplied when a voice at the back of his head spoke up, 'recognizing' the magic for what it was after a few moments, an exceptionally rare form of skill used by only the most powerful tier seven monsters. So rare, that Flair had only seen it once before when he'd gone on a joint mission with two members of the Elite Four, which itself had been quite the learning opportunity— as they'd been tasked with handling a level seventy-seven monster that had been spotted lurking just outside of the Khan of Blue Lightning's territory.

That had been a rough encounter, as even with two members of the Elite Four and one of the next closest tier sevens in strength, the three of them had barely managed to put down the monster. As for the reason why?

A domain skill.

The monster had captured the essence of their battleground and, over the course of their battle, turned it into a domain of its own, increasing its power and decreasing theirs, the temperature rising and lava spewing as if there were some volcanic activity just beneath their feet. Had it not been for Flair himself, who found himself quite at home when faced with such an environment, total retreat would have likely been necessary, requiring potentially Grinning Demon herself to involve herself, as it had been a joint mission between the two lower-ranked Elite Four members.

And that's what the Lord Founder had just unleashed, albeit with far less pyrotechnics. The vast darkness of space suspended the miniature star unleashed by the Chief Protector, a lone star in endless darkness. As Flair continued to watch, it occurred to him that the floating red crystals, so fine they were almost dust, weren't just floating about haphazardly. There was a clear pattern, more like points on a grid than like stars.

As the Lord Founder reached out, the suspended star twinkled one last time before collapsing, the motes of energy captured by the coordinated red space dust, which briefly twinkled brighter.

Still reaching out, his hand seemed to vanish into nothingness before reappearing, now grasping the Chief Protector's shoulder, who, with a haggard sigh, raised both hands.

Then, just as quickly as it appeared, the domain of locked space vanished, the Lord Founder crossing his arms and smiling widely.

Before Flair knew it, he was on his feet, cheering wildly. A display of martial and magical skill that went beyond anything he'd ever seen before, he could only feel grateful.

Grateful that he had been so lucky to witness it.

Rory was really fucking tired, like really, really, fucking tired.

Just keep smiling and acting like it was easy.

Apostolos had asked him in the past why someone who generally kept to himself was such a fan of showmanship.

This was part of why.

Information was a blade just as much as any other.

For example, when your protégée unleashed a big fuck off magic attack to start the fight, cut it down as if it were easy. Sure, when Rory's attributes weren't capped and when he had actual gear, that might have been the case, but without?

Keeping his attributes capped at what his tier-seven levels had been, while without equipment, it very much wasn't the case. Manipulating space already 'occupied' by hostile, foreign pneuma was hellishly expensive, even with his coordinate affinity and efficiency.

Still, it was imperative to pretend it wasn't.

People assumed Rory was somehow a divine being, an existence beyond comprehension or whatever rumors or stories he'd heard over the years.

Not so much. Rory wasn't so naïve as to assume he wasn't exceptional, but all the Founders, those still alive, had proven to be. That was essentially a prerequisite for proto-Aelia having 'picked' them in the first place. Maybe they were exceptional in different ways, but there was no denying they were special.

But they weren't gods.

If Founders were their own level, then someone like Apostolos was one rung below, a pinnacle tier.

Founder, Pinnacle, Elite? Might have to workshop those terms; they sound kind of lazy.

Either way, as skilled as Rory was, much of his strength came from how well he 'scaled' with proper gear. He was old enough and active enough to be a well-practiced fighter, but he didn't really have any combat skills. Worse, he had no useful boosting skill. If he did, he could have made an argument to loosen the cap on his attributes a tad, as if emulating the use of a boosting skill without using it, since he was already capping himself.

But he didn't, so he couldn't loosen the cap because that would be cheating.

No boosting skill, no combat skills, it was all freeform magic, cognition, and whatever he'd managed to learn over the years.

Against a pinnacle-level fighter, who wasn't restricted in any form, in fact, he was actively encouraged to use everything available, with the assumption that Rory could take it.

So, his advantage had been in the mental game. Make Apostolos believe that in an extended duel of magic, Rory would come out on top with his sheer efficiency. Using that, he could force him into a direct confrontation, which would be less likely to result in the explosive fight-ending power being thrown around all at once, giving the ace up his sleeve time to cook.

The hard part from there had been staying planted.

Concepts were weird. If you were someone who could attack with lightspeed sunlight attacks, the magic would lack any real oomph unless you forcibly slowed it. The intent of a trade-off seemed to be a force that could tap into concepts to an unmatched degree.

But if you could gain extra power by trading off the speed of an attack, what about trading off the time and place of an attack? Such as by artificially putting a timer on it, that would be forcibly turned off if you so much as moved an inch beyond your initial casting space?

And what if instead of a direct attack, you took that same interplay of trade-offs and instead used it to facilitate the forcible overwriting of reality with a domain?

Information was a weapon, and Rory wielded that weapon exceptionally well when he wanted to.

His domain skill, one that he still hadn't given a proper name, was one that he'd been working on over the years. The initial proto-domain he'd used against his bane at the peak of tier seven had been formed around projections and his Mind Palace, the only thing he could envision overwriting reality enough to actually overwrite reality, but the consequence was that it was horrifically costly to use, and not in the way that a simple ascension could so easily overcome.

If Rory wanted to make using a domain a feasible option, the cost was that he had to throw out projections and his Mind Palace as the cornerstone of his domain. Instead, he'd spent the last few years truly 'building' the scene of his new domain up, brick by metaphorical brick, one that was constructed from the 'materials' of his triple affinities, Blood, Lattice, and the newest, Coordinate.

In the end, it had taken on an appearance strikingly similar to the void of space, with stars shining throughout, but that itself was a coincidental ruse; it wasn't space itself, but the concept of spatial coordinates taken to the extreme. While it might have appeared like stars carefully placed in the night sky, it was actually the opposite: the darkness lay atop a grid of coordinates. Each conjunction was marked by a blood-red crystal that allowed him to claim the domain encompassed as under his total jurisdiction.

When Apostolos unleashed a shooting star attack at Rory, aside from the memory of how the two of them had defeated his bane many decades ago, Rory hadn't thought much of it, because within the space of his domain, it didn't matter. If he decided that the star should be anchored to a point in space, then that's where it would be anchored.

Alright, going back a bit, technically, Rory had lied. When he said he had no boosting skills, he had one skill that could boost, so he loosened the cap on one attribute as an emulation of that skill.

Cognition, with Eyes of the Architect.

Which was important because processing the influx of information his near-total domain flooded him with was a huge ask. With his tier-eight cognition, it would have been far easier, but 'capped' at tier seven, the fake boost had been necessary. Having instantly processed the trajectory of Apostolos's shooting star, Rory had simply 'cut' away the coordinates it was attempting to cross, which had led to the suspension of the attack in mid-air. Suspended inside his domain, the coordinates where the star existed atop were his to control, and with only a brief flex of will, the star was shredded, torn apart like a sand castle blasted by gale-force winds.

Hellishly low on pneuma, from there Rory had made a show of reaching through space, his hand vanishing as if passing through a portal, to grasp Apostolos's shoulder.

It had been the move that had ended the fight. After using such powerful magic on his own, Apostolos was likely beginning to sputter out as well. Without knowing just how much longer Rory could hold the domain open, in Apostolos's eyes, the fight was over; after all, it wasn't as if the fight was ever meant to be to the death, just a friendly exhibition match.

And so, Rory won.

But heavens above, talk about cutting it close.

Domain turned off, it wasn't as if Rory had much choice anyway, he'd have, at best, five or six seconds left before it shut down anyway.

Timed magic giveth, and timed magic taketh. By adding a strict charge-up restriction and a strict active period, it had made the domain possible, the 'cleanest' method Rory had seen in achieving victory.

Looking at Apostolos's face, Rory could only shake his head.

Man, he's going to be pissed after that fact once I explain everything.

The grin on his face widened. Sure, Rory was damn tired.

But.

But the desire to see the face Apostolos would make after the fact?

Priceless.