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Memoirs 382 - To the Tower
🕑 Added 2025-08-07 21:43:14 +0000 UTC“Slate,” Scarlett said, eyes fixed on the pale, expressionless girl standing inside the metallic cradle before them. “Come.”
She gestured for Slate to climb out of the structure.
The girl studied her quietly, then looked down at her own hand, then at the cradle beneath her. Slowly, she raised her arm, turning it over and examining it. Her fingers flexed experimentally before she placed her hand against the rim of the cradle. With a measured motion, she pushed herself up, one bare foot slipping over the edge to touch down on the cold stone platform below.
Then she paused.
A few seconds passed as she stared down at the foot planted on the ground.
The others watched in silence. Allyssa took a cautious step forward, hands half-raised in case Slate lost her balance or the loosely draped blanket around her fell again.
After several seconds, as though reaching a private conclusion, Slate lifted her other leg and stepped fully out of the cradle, her attention turning entirely to Scarlett.
Their eyes met, level with one another thanks to the platform’s slight elevation.
Scarlett regarded her closely.
There was something unsettling in those eyes. Not lifelessness, exactly, but a creeping stillness — the kind that might send a child running, unnerved before they even understood why.
Scarlett didn’t mind.
She intended to make full use of them.
“Fynn,” she said, not taking her eyes off Slate. “Search the cradle, if you would.”
The white-haired youth stepped forward, climbing onto the platform and leaning over the edge of the metal structure before dipping his upper body into the hollow where Slate had been resting only moments ago.
Slate turned her head to watch him, still unreadable, though Scarlett wondered if there wasn’t a flicker of curiosity behind that blank expression.
“…What is she?” Raimond asked beside her, his gaze fixed on Slate. “Beyond the ‘Tribute of Dominion,’ I mean.”
Scarlett glanced at him. “…She is a homunculus.”
His brow furrowed. “I’m afraid I’m not familiar with the term.”
“That is because she is the only one of her kind in this world. The only complete one, at the very least. Thainnith created a prototype long ago. It now serves as the librarian in a secret library hidden on the Rising Isle. But it cannot compare to what she is.”
“Hidden library…?” Raimond eyed her, then sighed. “A mystery for another time, I suppose.” He looked back at Slate. “And if I were to ask what a homunculus is beyond the label of ‘creation’, could you give me an answer?”
“Perhaps. But you would be better served asking Slate herself.”
His eyebrows rose. “Then—”
“Later,” Scarlett said, cutting him off. “I might allow you to speak with her — if you behave.”
“…Now that is just dastardly.”
“They do call me a villainess.”
“You mean people other than our shared minstrel friend?”
Scarlett didn’t respond for a moment, her gaze lowering slightly. “Indeed.”
She turned back toward the cradle. “Fynn. What have you found?”
The youth reemerged, arms full of artifacts. “Yes.”
He stepped back from the platform, adjusting his grip to better balance the items and letting the others see.
The first was a nearly weightless mantle, its fabric whisper-thin and almost transparent, edged with muted silver trim. It draped in flawless folds, seemingly untouched by motion.
[Sovereign’s Veil (Divine)]
{A remnant of Thainnith’s divinarch vestments, imbued with fading traces of his authority. Once, it shielded the divinarch without drawing eyes, moving before the intention of his foes}
Next, a wrist-sized metal coil of burnished bronze, curled like a sleeping dragon. At its core sat a series of concentric rings, pulsing faintly with energy.
[Thresher’s Loop (Legendary)]
{Forged for the Blade-Keepers of Thalmoruin—spoken of by some as ‘Stormreach’—the Loop was more ritual than relic: a binding of tempo, a honing of instinct, a punishment for hesitation. Those who wore it forgot how to fight slowly}
Fynn held up a slim velvet choker adorned with a hovering gemstone that flickered as if holding something waiting to be released.
[Aetheric Clasp (Epic)]
{An old Zuverian precaution, meant for envoys and infiltrators who could neither speak freely nor afford failure. The Clasp binds one’s words — until the moment demands their release}
Then came a simple black robe. Its surface appeared unremarkable at first glance, yet it drew the eye.
[Echo Without Voice (Legendary)]
{A shape remembered by the world, though it never truly walked it. What it echoes, it becomes. What it is, remains silent.}
Finally, a small, finger-length metal plate with a glass centre swirling with chaotic colour.
[Tablet of Sovegrephor (Divine)]
{Within lies the unbridled power of change, harnessed and controlled}
A formidable collection. Each item was potent in its own right, but Scarlett’s attention was drawn most to the two divine-tier pieces. Those were what truly interested her.
The [Tablet of Sovegrephor] was the most versatile — effectively a free upgrade for any other artifact. She already knew that she’d use it on her mana necklace to boost her reservoir. As for [Sovereign’s Veil], its defensive potential rivalled, perhaps even surpassed, anything she could currently muster.
[Thresher’s Loop] was a good fit for Fynn, though she had some concern over how it might amplify his already reckless tendencies in combat. The [Aetheric Clasp (Epic)] she’d likely give to Kat, since she recalled that it let a mage pre-bind a couple of spells for later release.
And the [Echo Without Voice (Legendary)]? That had practically been made for Slate, both in the game and here. Scarlett had no intention of using it any other way.
All in all, while none of these artifacts had been the ultimate goal of their venture into Beld Thylelion, they were a welcome reward after all they’d endured. The ruins had yielded little else in terms of tangible loot so far. While they had come across the occasional minor artifact, none of them had been of much direct interest to Scarlett. She knew others scattered throughout the complex—at least, they had been in the game—but few were worth the time or risk of detouring. Those that were, she’d already looked for while dealing with the Cabal.
Her gaze drifted back to the cradle. “Was there nothing else?”
Fynn set the artifacts down on the stone floor, then climbed back onto the platform. He leaned into the cradle again, and this time, emerged with a final object, far larger than the rest.
Scarlett’s eyes widened.
It was a dense, matte-grey metal cube, ridged and faintly segmented. Fynn cradled it with noticeable effort, the object barely fitting in his arms as he carried it out of the cradle and placed it on the ground before them.
No system prompt appeared.
But Scarlett didn’t need one. She knew exactly what it was.
Thainnith’s Array Forge — a personalised arcane interface used by the divinarchs to prototype, craft, deconstruct, and simulate high-tier materials, spell arrays, enchantments, even conceptual constructs. It was keyed directly to a divinarch’s cognition, intuition, and will. Replicating one was practically impossible. But for its rightful user, it served as the ultimate sandbox. A crucible for invention, repair, and refinement.
Scarlett wasn’t sure if she could use it. Even with the legacy she carried, its function might remain locked behind intricacies she didn’t yet understand. But…
The possibility intrigued her.
“Pack these away for now,” she told Fynn. “We will examine them properly later.”
Fynn nodded, already moving to stow the artifacts inside the [Bag of Juham].
Scarlett turned to Slate, who still stood atop the platform, motionless. The girl’s gaze met hers as she tilted her head slightly. It struck her as oddly birdlike.
Scarlett considered questioning her, but eventually shifted her focus to Nol’viz. The masked Cabal member hadn’t looked away from Slate for even a moment since the homunculus’ emergence.
Scarlett stepped closer, drawing an item from her [Pouch of Holding] — a silver-etched key, fine and cold to the touch. The one she’d received from Arnaud, passed on by Yamina.
The key to the Forgotten Tower.
Dozens—perhaps hundreds—of small, spiralling carvings ran along its length. Some looked ancient, but many were clearly freshly engraved. Tiny interlocking runes and lattice-bound sigils formed an elaborate spell-array whose function Scarlett couldn’t immediately discern. Parsing it would probably take hours, if not days, but she already had a general sense of Yamina’s intent.
She extended the key toward Nol’viz.
As it neared, the glyphs flared to life.
Normally, unless one had already visited, accessing the Forgotten Tower required both this key and the activation of a specific Kilnstone located on an island in the Innisling Sea. Even for Scarlett, reaching it was no simple matter, and she certainly hadn’t prepared the components for such a journey now.
But Yamina had anticipated that.
Which was why her plan involved Nol’viz — a girl who could slip between the folds of the realm of shadows.
The masked girl’s three violet eyes locked onto the glowing key as tendrils of silver light drifted lazily from it, like ink in water, trailing toward her crimson robes. Dark wisps of shadow curled as if on instinct from beneath Nol’viz’s robes, rising to repel the light — but froze upon contact.
Nol’viz didn’t react beyond a slight tilt of her head, observing the phenomenon with quiet interest.
Scarlett released the key. It remained suspended in the air between them.
She stepped back to rejoin the others.
A corona of runes burst into being around Nol’viz and the key, floating in concentric circles. They rotated slowly, gaining momentum, a low hum resonating through the air.
“…What exactly are your intentions here?” Raimond asked.
“You will see,” Scarlett said. “I do not expect her to be harmed, if that is your concern.”
She looked at Slate, raising a hand to beckon her down from the platform.
The homunculus obeyed without a word, stepping down to stand beside her. She was just shy of Scarlett’s shoulder, and as she stopped, her gaze turned towards Nol’viz, who looked back from the key to the pale girl.
Their eyes met for several long seconds.
Scarlett frowned faintly but let it pass.
“Now,” she told the others. “Prepare yourselves. This may feel disorienting.”
The runes around Nol’viz stilled, then contracted inward with a final hum. At the same instant, the shadows beneath Nol’viz’s feet surged outward, spreading across the floor like liquid night.
There was a moment of stillness.
Then the shadows swallowed them whole.
It was like plunging into living ink — heavy, cold, and utterly silent. For several heartbeats, Scarlett felt disconnected from her own body, drifting through something vast and unnatural.
And then she was standing again.
They had emerged into a grand chamber. Vast and circular, it was built of cold white marble veined with grey stone. The ceiling rose impossibly high, lost in the darkness. Suspended above were countless floating crystals of every imaginable shape and hue, orbiting in slow, shifting constellations. Thin arcs of lightning leapt between them, accompanied by a soft chime like glass bells.
A voice greeted them.
“Welcome.”
Scarlett looked forward.
At the base of a wide staircase stood Yamina Ward, cloaked in deep emerald, her dark purple hair drawn back in a loose braid. She adjusted her glasses with a faint smile.
“It’s good to see familiar faces again,” she said.
“Ward,” Scarlett greeted evenly.
“Baroness Hartford.”
For a time, they regarded each other in silence.
Then Yamina raised a hand, tapping a finger thoughtfully against her chin. “Unless I’m mistaken, something about you feels…distinctly different since we last met.”
“It has been some time.”
Her brow arched slightly. “…How long were you there?”
“I cannot say precisely. Not all of it was perceivable.” Scarlett moved towards Yamina, her eyes drifting across the chamber. It was impossible to miss the sheer density of magical architecture embedded into the walls, floor, even the crystals. An overwhelming number of arcane arrays—layered, nested, recursive—each one alive with power. She was certain it would take her months to understand all of them, let alone replicate them. And the resources required must have been staggering.
Where had Yamina acquired it all?
Several branching passages led away from the chamber, but there were no windows, and nothing that revealed location. Not that Scarlett needed confirmation that they were in the Forgotten Tower. She could feel it in the air.
As for the magic that had brought them here, that was harder to define. In Beld Thylelion, she’d ‘seen’ Yamina’s plan—to exploit Nol’viz’s semi-spatial abilities as a conduit—but even then, the Cabal girl alone shouldn’t have been able to move an entire group halfway across the continent into a sealed sanctum.
Clearly, Yamina had found a workaround. Or several.
Scarlett briefly wondered if she could have achieved something similar with the Athame. Its spatial ability had proven fairly potent as well. But she doubted it could bridge that distance. And whatever spellwork Yamina had done here was likely bound specifically to Nol’viz’s unique nature.
In the end, it didn’t matter. They were here. Beld Thylelion was behind them.
Scarlett would’ve loved to take the time to explore the Tower properly, but this was not the time.
Yamina continued watching her, something flickering behind her eyes before it faded. She turned her attention to the others, gaze sweeping over them. It lingered briefly on Nol’viz—still suspended mid-air by Raimond’s magic—then stopped on Slate.
“So,” Yamina said, “that’s the fabled Tribute of Dominion?”
“It is,” Scarlett replied. “Slate, come here.”
The homunculus obeyed, stepping over without hesitation to stand beside them.
Scarlett drew three items from her [Pouch of Holding].
The first was a curved blade with a silvery sheen and fine veins of crimson. A circular void sat at its base, as if meant to connect to something greater.
Next was a small crystal orb, no larger than a clenched fist. Its surface was glassy and smooth, the inside swirling with ever-shifting colour like a silent aurora.
The last was a short rod of polished obsidian, about the length of a forearm, its surface traced with silver filigree that glowed faintly as though alive.
[Life’s Limit (1/3) (Unique)]
{A part of a whole, yet it will never be complete}
[Glimpse of Eternity (1/3) (Unique)]
{Essence captured, forever yearning for wholeness}
[Threads of Fate (1/3) (Unique)]
{A weave unbroken, binding beginnings and endings into balance. Its strength lies in the convergence of all things.}
Yamina gave a quiet, impressed hum. “So you did find them. That certainly makes things easier. I’m surprised you located the final piece. I couldn’t scry or track it myself.”
“It was in Stepmond,” Scarlett replied. She extended the artifacts toward Slate. “Do you know what to do with these?”
Slate studied the items briefly, then reached for the rod—[Threads of Fate]—first. Holding it steady, she took the curved blade and aligned its base with the rod’s end.
It clicked into place, seamless.
Then she took the orb—[Glimpse of Eternity]—and fitted it into the void at the blade’s base.
The moment the pieces joined, something sparked.
The three artifacts glowed — softly at first, then brighter. Their forms shimmered, fusing. In Slate’s hands, they reshaped into a long, elegant scythe of black and silver, streaked with flowing light along its haft. It radiated not just power, but presence, as if it were a concept made manifest.
And that concept was severance.
[Eternity Made Whole (Unique)]
{Form drawn from fragments — not restored, but rewritten. It was never meant to exist, and yet it does. Complete only in defiance of its own design}
Slate studied the weapon, then turned to Yamina, her voice lifeless. “You want me to sever.”
Yamina smiled. “A little reductive, but yes. Don’t worry — it won’t hurt.”
“I was not worried. You do not allow harm through direct action. You only permit it to occur through processes several steps removed from you.”
Yamina stilled. Her smile wavered slightly. “…I suppose you’re right.”
Scarlett narrowed her eyes curiously. What exactly did that mean?
Yamina turned without further explanation and ascended the stairs towards a wide, circular platform at the heart of the chamber. “For those of you composed of squishy, non-elemental matter with a tendency to dissolve under metaphysical strain,” she said over her shoulder, “I recommend taking shelter.”
She gestured towards a ring of protective runes carved near the outer wall edge.
“I wasn’t sure how many observers we’d have today,” she added, “but it should accommodate all of you.”
Scarlett glanced at her companions. They exchanged looks, then moved wordlessly towards the circle.
Scarlett followed Yamina up the steps, Slate just behind her.
Dozens of intersecting arrays spiralled outward across the platform. Yamina motioned for Slate to step into the centre.
Slate obeyed.
Yamina turned to Scarlett. Their eyes met, and both gave a small nod.
“Well then, Baroness,” Yamina said quietly. “Are you ready to kill that which even the gods fear?”
Comments
Deadmoo53
I like to picture Scarlett casually reading off the item descriptions as a flex. "Ah, the Sovereign's Veil, worn by the Divinarch Thainnith himself. We'll sort that out later."
ActionKermit
For some reason I feel like now is the time that the Idol from the Wandering Realm is going to cash in that favor Scarlett owes. For what? I haven’t the faintest idea, but it feels natural.
Logan
From Chapter 340 - (Not so) round table discussions - “Because of what lies inside. Beld Thylelion was built to house what is known as the Tribute of Dominion — the very power responsible for The Severance that ended Zuverian civilisation.” The Severance... I get it now... great foreshadowing. :)
Hoogleman
Idk, a slice of life chapter wouldn't really make sense when they've been in the middle of the largest and most complex dungeon that exists in the game world. This isn't Dungeon Meshi, (I think that's the title?) after all.
Gratti
I like it, but honestly I was hoping for a slice of life chapter or something, everything is just constantly moving right now
Lyna
There is still the matter of the system, the hero, and everything with the other factions working against Scarlett
Logan
I thought it was a typo
Laylo
Umm... WFT? If Fate dies now, is there any story left to tell? All that build up & that's it? Is this how this Scarlett story ends?🥴I thought killing Fate would be End Game.
Chase C
> “Fynn. What have you found?” > The youth reemerged, arms full of artifacts. “Yes.” I love it
