A low resonate hiss radiated from Nemenoth's body.

Vibrations spread out from the evolved boss, cracking apart Luke's frost. Nemenoth pointed a sharp finger at Luke, then curled it. The remaining light sucked into the boss, making Luke have to rely on elemental sight to see at all. Cold grey mists swirled around, following the Reaver's arctic wind streams.

[Nemenoth, the Uncrowned] (Spired)

Tier: 3

Level: 75

HP: ???/??? (Obscured)

Relinquishing the path of the Crystal Demon King, this being returns faith to his once-forsaken god creature, the Titan, Jalar. The Spire prevents total resurrection and freedom.

Stepping forward, Nemenoth crushed apart the threatening elemental ice and blurred toward Luke, closing the distance before the Reaver could blink. Luke parried one clawed hand while the demon's other smashed into his side, sending him flying to the platform's far west. Frost clung to Nemenoth's hands, then shimmered apart when a vibration erupted across the Uncrowned's physique.

Rushing blood painted Luke's left side, activating Blood Haze and Vampiric Regeneration in full force. Ice tried to settle the wound, but vibrations ripped into him, tremendously lowering its effectiveness. Minor fractures carved into Xera. Luke surged extra essence to repair the artifact—yet the process struggled, too slow in the current stakes.

"That guy's as tough as the spear, master. He's sharper than I am. Cover me up, or he'll break me apart."

"Got it. Wayfinder, we might have to enact the plan at a moment's notice."

"Needle's tickin' lad, say the word, and I'll play me part in any direction."

Layered ice smothered Xera, thick enough to double her weight. Grey runes shouldered against white-blue ones, both beginning to creep onto Luke's right forearm. The Reaver applied Siphon and Essence Bond to Nemenoth. They appeared, then cracked apart in a semi-second. Spiritual pain struck Luke's brain, and frosty blood freely flowed from his nose.

Arms splayed out to either side, and Nemenoth roared to the crystal barren ceiling.

"Newborn Elemental, this vessel's perfection cannot be altered so easily. Your fate, as my most treasured echo, is here. Embrace the peaceful return to crystal."

Electric currents danced upon Luke's elemental skin. The overdraw tore up his muscles—the least of his problems.

Immune to Essence Bond and Siphon, heavily resistant to frost, too sharp for Xera, and now too fast for me to keep up without Triple Step. The Reaver spat out crimson blood, Finally, something can withstand me; it's been too long.

An eternal smile spread and the Reaver dashed toward a being created to counter his strong suits. Meeting again, he sliced Xera at Nemenoth, the crystal demon's sharpened claws met the blade tit for tat, layers of Luke's ice blasted apart with each collision. Vibrations traveled up the Reaver's arms, cracking apart the Elemental and attacking his organs. The Spectral Heart drummed, and Frost Fall Reave flowed, reinforcing Xera and lowering Nemenoth's offensive power. The snowstorm warded around the demon, unable to touch him, shockwaves keeping it at bay. White sword marks decorated Nemenoth's claws and arms, none fracturing his gem and crystal encrusted skin.

Clashing dozens of times, Luke evened the disparity until Frost Fall Reave ran its duration. Nemenoth kicked the Reaver in the right side, causing him to rocket to the platform's center—creating a deep fissure. Luke's head swam, blood running down everywhere, getting into his eyes before freezing up. He'd hit the unknown cap to his theft, failing to suck away further attributes from Nemenoth. The damage across his body was immense—persistent oscillations attacking him all over—legs more ice than muscle now, his right arm in the same condition.

Getting up, he glanced at the thin, rotting brown line at Nemenoth's otherwise unharmed vessel. Shadows tugged at within the Ice Elemental human, trying to augment itself to the primary element.

"Done so soon, newborn Elemental? You've been sturdier than most. All the other godless to attempt to hunt me alone long died from a fraction of the damage plaguing you." The crystal demon brought the black hued vibrating sword back out of its body, the sharp glint leaving him, "Feel pride, godless, none will have the privilege to witness this form ever again—unique only to our connection."

Luke laughed, hurting his chest. He said, "All I feel is greed, demon."

"Take it to your crystal tomb, godless."

With a resonating ring, the Reaver parried the untelegraphed vanishing strike. Nemenoth was now inches from his face as the vibrating sword sliced through the compacted ice protecting Xera. Strength flooded Luke's arms. Nemenoth displayed greater strength still, slowly shoving away Xera, exposing Luke. The three multicolored crystals stabbed thin lines into the Reaver's right shoulder, preventing him from moving for a transient second.

Ice rushed to Luke's chest and left shoulder, hardening. Black lines reinforced them— secondary shadow rushed at his call. Nemenoth slashed his crystal sword composedly, smoothly parting the Reaver's left arm from his body. Pain beyond his tolerance tried to cloud Luke's mind, held back by Blood Haze. Nemenoth kicked him in the stomach, turning most of his intestines to mush. He flew back like a kite without a string, halted by the barrier around the dome, cracking it all over.

Slowly sliding down the barrier, Luke struggled to keep his eyes open. His back threatened to shatter, and Xera suffered deep fissures—his body on the verge of bursting apart. Without ice threading his internals together, he'd be dead. At least the bleeding from his left arm calmed down enough from the reflexive frost he applied there. Landing a small floating chunk on the outer ring. Luke cut off his smell, touch, and feel—all to focus on his sight and hearing. Faint images revealed around Nemenoth through his elemental sight, eyes rimmed with frost densely.

"Xera, can you hold out for one more round?"

"As any Sword-Wand worth her metal could. Don't hold back for my sake."

Luke could hear Sooty's pained caw. The corvid stuck bashing against the prismatic cage, bleeding all over her body from the self-harm inflicted to try and leave the enclosure. Nemenoth placed his crystal sword in a balanced stance, amethyst eyes calmly inspecting the Reaver.

A limb of pure ice shot out of Luke's left shoulder, the creation drained his elemental reserves immensely. He clutched the limb, rotating his shoulder, used to it already. He opened a palm; an elixir landed there. Drinking the battle elixir, a gift meant for the Tide by Brisen Thundergast, Luke felt his battle sense, attributes, and mind elevate in effectiveness. The pain left him, and all other emotions clouding his judgment dispersed.

The Black Metal Mask—summoned from the Inventory—settled on Luke's face. His hair bleached to pure white. Tarnished equipment twisted into a black-and-red set, and Xera followed suit—becoming a white blade with a red gem. Ghost Blade floated behind him. Luke began to hop forward from one floating island to the next, rapidly approaching Nemenoth.

"Your appearance changes, godless, the power a small step up from before. A terminal struggle. At the next vulnerability, you will die."

A distorted voice echoed from the Black Metal Mask, "You're right about that, except it's your funeral, stay here where you belong, in your tomb. Wayfinder—do it."

Closing his eyes, Luke sheathed Xera, deep black water—changed from ice due to Ghost Blade's form—encased around the scabbard, building power. He tightly gripped her hilt, ready to settle it in one gamble.

"Rising West."

Two eclipsed suns arose behind the Reaver's shoulders. The chains keeping back the Legacy of Greed lifted dramatically, and countless possibilities flooded Luke's mind. He tugged on one thread, revealing the path. Through the mist shroud, Luke processed enough visual information. Then, the world blackened, and calm, measured breathing took its place. Essence Lance fused into Xera, triggering Essence Feedback upon the blade. A black water tsunami flooded from the sheath, furthering the Reaver's speed.

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Nemenoth bulged, his three multicolored crystals gemmed to his oscillating crystal sword. Just as the Reaver entered range, Nemenoth swiped the blade in a blaze, inches away from beheading Luke, far faster than the Reaver anticipated.

But not fast enough.

With an eerie glow, Vengeful Wail blasted out Ghost Blade, washing over Nemenoth, ruining the demon's attack, and switching up bodily control. The banshee-esque wail reverberated, cracking apart Nemenoth's skin, the shockwaves once his ally—now a hindrance. The crystal sword flew up and above the Reaver's body.

Black water submerged around Xera, the chains around Elementalization pried away. Luke ripped open the door to the next step, peering through for but a moment—all he needed. Blue streams rushed forward, etched by yellow runes. Black and blue water fused, gliding along the Reaver's blade. He performed a sheathed slash with Xera, and the artifact shot out faster than sound, connecting to the Vorpal Rot at Nemenoth's waist.

He crashed behind Nemenoth, unable to stop his momentum, body spent. The Black Metal Mask dissolved into shadow, returning to the Inventory. All the blue and black water turned to black ice, grey runes on its surface. Unable to lift his head to see, and the mist shroud dissipated, Luke relied on his hearing.

Crack.

There, he heard it, the sound of Nemenoth's crystal physique splintering. Two separate masses fell at disjointed times. The barrier around the domed boss room shattered into countless fragments, the echoes observing the fight from the dimming crystal walls outside the barrier dissipated, the spectral audience forever gone. A resonating, deep, now muffled voice rang behind Luke, "Forcing up the door to technique mastery. You are no hunter. None of them attempt to hone the four race's greatest weapon at the final juncture. A godless, maddened D…." Nemenoth's voice died. The boss room began to rumble, and the crystal walls revealed a path to a hidden radiant portal opposite the way the iron bridge once swayed.

Whispering Tome shoved Luke upright, allowing him to see what became of Nemenoth. There, split perfectly at the waist, were two crystal halves. The brands upon them were dead, crown fragments gone, and gemmed crystals all fractured. Black ice hollowed out the two halves, intermixed with Vorpal rot. Nemenoth's amethyst eyes lost their luster. Unable to move, the Reaver lay there, heaving, various regenerative processes trying to keep his body functioning—barely successful in the endeavor. The twin eclipsed sun's settled, fading back into Wayfinder.

That crystal overlord put a number on him. Blood leaked from every gash, and not a single bone remained whole, the price of forcing open a door the world tried to keep closed to him. He willed a health potion out, with no way to use it independently. Sooty landed next to him, hopping around. She came up to his face and brushed her body up against it.

Wayfinder spoke, voice weary, "Clatter trap, take that fancy potion over there and shove it down your stupid master's throat. Aye, I can't direct this as havin' just one measly death wish, you've got at least three of the buggers. Congratulations, you snatched victory again for a second time today. Don't think that body o' yours can handle a third."

Black crystal expunged itself through Luke's mouth. Coughing, he said, "That makes two of us, Wayfinder. I'll just lie…here a bit."

Flapping up to Luke's chest, Sooty fished out the health potion stopper. The liquid messily infused into the Reaver's body. With wounds all over the place, it proved as effective as the usual ingestion method. Luke thought to bring out bandages but believed that'd be asking for fine control Sooty likely didn't possess.

The trifecta of Vampiric Regeneration, Blood Haze, and Elemental Power would have to do the heavy lifting. Already, he felt flesh regenerate, slowly replacing the ice limb servicing as his left arm. He'd make it, but recovery would take longer than a short span.

Xera shifted back and forth in his right palm, "I knew it, the black ice is back. Nothing else is like it, with it, I cut apart that crystal in one fell swoop. Really wears me out, though, I think I'll sleep too…" Xera's crystal dimmed, the usual light at a critical low.

"Rest well, Xera. I asked more of you today than ever before. You deserve it, my bloodthirsty Sword Wand."

"No platitudes for your trusty compass, lad? These suns and directions are stressin' out me springs. Using me North, South and West like it's going to run away from ye. "

"Goes without saying for all of you. I'd be a dead man ten times over without any of you four." His eyes slowly turned to a peacefully floating tome with a black sword etched to its surface, "I guess even 'perfected crystal' can't deal with your Vengeful Wail. You were the last piece to the puzzle, Whispering Tome."

The sentient tome seemed to float up and down at an increased pace after that. The picture of pride coming off a page it revealed. It reopened, new lines being written in runic, a record keeper. Right before Luke gave in to closing his eyes, the Spectral Heart beat with hunger. Luke gulped, saliva dripping freely.

At the edge of his vision, there, next to the one violet-colored floating crystal Nemenoth left behind, a hovering crystalline blood orb called to him. Since his body was too much of a mess to do anything else, it turned out to be an effective form of torture—tugging at the endless greed that composed him.

"Master, why are you drooling? Did you find some yummy blood again? Can you share this time?"

"I think your habit is rubbing off on me, Xera. You get plenty of your own, don't you?"

"I will happily welcome you to see the blood light! Should we call it the church of Xera? Or the Sword Wands? You can be a non-Sword Wand of course. Otherwise, it'd be a problem to get enough members."

"Anything with you at the helm of it will be blasted and sliced apart to ribbons. Tell you what, we can think about making an organization after I retire."

"That's a promise!"

Unable to speed up the healing process all that much, Luke sighed, "Patchwork ring's cooldown would be perfect right about now. That hellfire slinging elf is causing me problems even after she's dead."

"Master, why don't you put all that ice in one spot if you're in a hurry for the delicacy over there?"

"You know, that's actually not a bad idea. I'll give it a try." Eyes on the two items so close yet so far, Luke's impatience got the better of him, he said, "Sooty, help me out for a second."

The bird came at his beck and call, landing inches away from his nose. She cooed and twisted her head to the side in a curious inspection. The floating blood orb appeared immaterial, or something only a being with an Exalted Heart could absorb. Sooty could assist him with the violet crystal. He asked, "Can you bring that crystal over to me, Sooty? You're in the better condition out of the two of us."

Flapping away, Sooty carefully snatched the crystal with her beak. She dropped it right onto Luke's right hand. After muttering a short 'thanks' to Sooty the Reaver linked to the Interface. With bodily contact, the item's information implanted itself into Luke's vision.

[Nemenoth's Sovereign Crystal]

Quality: Epic

Active - Corrupting Aura: The Sovereign Crystal consumes 10% of your health. In return, for the next twenty seconds, your strikes deal damage in a one hundred and twenty degree cone, dealing 75% damage. Bypasses all resistances, can pierce the immaterial. 10 Minute Cooldown.

Passive - Veins of Corruption: Your attacks apply a corruption vein to enemies, dealing modest arcane damage to them over six seconds. Limit of one mark per target. For every corrupted enemy nearby, your spells and melee strikes heal you for .5% of your maximum health.

Passive - Arcane Surge: Dodging or parrying generates an arcane surge that innervates your body. Your spell power and melee attack speed increase by 10%. Lasts 30 seconds. No Cooldown.

Requirements: Tier 2, Level 50

Soul Bound once equipped.

Dropped when Nemenoth is defeated alone—activating his berserk condition. A representation of the Crystal Sovereign's wish to become a king in a world full of gods, a wish nearly fulfilled until the Sinned Seven created a new era—their Spires a lasting legacy to chain the kings of the Sinned Era.

Opening the equipment panel, Luke tried to place this item in the only empty location left, the second special item slot. When he fit it into place, the Reaver felt the item tether to his soul—bound to him at a molecular level, and a spiritual pain thrashed at his body. A second later, the crystal ejected itself. The Reaver cleared out an Inventory spot, storing away Nemenoth's Soverign Crystal for later use.

Blinking once, he thought, Figured as much. Something to anticipate when I reach Tier 2.

While he hoped it would possess a healing aid, Luke prized the item all the same. Arcane Surge reminded him of Shadowmeld Spaulders property to increase his movement speed when he dodged. That bonus became a smaller portion of his agility as he got faster. Here, Arcane Surge based itself on percentage, scaling right alongside with him, also requiring a dodge, or a parry. Since two of his items improved the Reaver's abilities if he dodged now, he made a note to favor that approach over parrying or deflection.

The circumstances would undoubtedly dictate the best defensive measure.

For the longest time, the Reaver mistakenly believed the Black Metal Mask functioned as a special equipment item. That wasn't the case, as he found out. Instead, it managed to act as any non-quality item would, in that it wouldn't take a slot at all. How Annika, Tanniv, and Eldacar crafted such an object, he tipped his nonexistent hat to them—masters of their craft— able to deceive the Interface.

Corrupting Aura and Veins of Corruption displayed an obvious synergy. Sacrifice some health up front, and each attack would spread the corruption vein in a cone. A large quantity of low class enemies already lacked the usual threatening advantages against the Elemental Human, but now with this, the tactic lost its last luster. As the item offered no solution to the Reaver's bodily damage, he returned to Xera's suggestion.

Closing his eyes, the Reaver looked within, trying not to flinch at the sieve-like state most of his organs were in currently. Frost filled the holes and froze the shockwaves Nemenoth left behind. Blood filled his lungs, and bone fragments impaled his muscles. Luke's legs, in particular, looked—and felt—like shredded meat, ice replacing multiple chunks of muscle. To keep the speed advantage, Triple Step and creative use of Elementalization harshly extracted its toll. Taking a pained respiration, sweat froze on his brow. The smell of blood and ice filled his nose. A hymn summoned over the domed area, the cadence the same as what commanded the Shimmering Expanse's airwaves.

Mirah's Hymn. While his elemental body negated corruption throughout the fight, Sooty displayed a moderate infection. Something that escaped his notice up until now. The crystals—mostly hidden by her feathers—dimmed, then turned into crystalline sand. The companion's shadow element could now overwhelm them rather than merely stall their progress.

You'd have to forgive him—an enraged boss nearly beheaded him about two minutes ago. The fight's pressure consumed all his attention. Many details slipped by Luke as a result. The hymn worked in conjunction with Blood Haze to sharpen his mind. The omnipresent pain slipped away. Keeping the necessary portion in place to prevent organ failure, the Reaver directed Vampiric Regeneration and elemental power to his right arm. The recovery effect accelerated dramatically—a minute later—his broken bones mended themselves. Despite the appearance of a mangled arm composed of ice and bloody muscle, it moved without pain or reduced function. After he coated the exposed wounds in thin frost, Luke clutched his hand around Xera.

Now without conscious control, Vampiric Regeneration and the elemental power rushed elsewhere, tending to the most critical damage first. An unknown passive priority guiding the twin regenerative powers efforts. The Reaver stabbed Xera into the floor, dragging his whole body using her as a hold. He repeated the effort—ignoring Sooty's and the Artifact's alarm—until the sparkling blood orb was within his grasp.

Relinquishing Xera, the Reaver gulped down saliva again. The greed within tugged at every fiber. He grabbed the blood orb and brought it to his mouth, trying to consume it like an apple. After one bite, the whole orb became a bloody cyclone, shoving itself into the Reaver's vessel. It rushed inside, making his body convulse, and blood thrummed while the Spectral Heart celebrated.

Multiple stressors attacked the Reaver's body and mind. This hasty decision—driven by instinctive greed—pushed them over the edge. A black, hazy cloud dragged the Reaver into an abyss, drifting into sleep. In a last action, he hurriedly sheathed Xera. A black and white metaphysical orb rose to his glabella—heavily distorting the information to scrying eyes, save for one progenitor.

The First Reaver's forgotten gift.

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