The Fourth Secret: A Fantasy LitRPG Adventure (Divine Apostasy Book 4) by A. Kay (best fiction novels of all time .txt) 📗

“Make what work?” Sift asked.

“Our vacation, of course,” Ky said.

“You’re coming on vacation with us?” Hamma asked.

“Well, of course, I keep my promises after all,” Ky said and looked at Lylan.

“Malth?” Lylan asked.

Ky nodded.

“When?” Lylan asked.

“Three weeks, maybe a month,” Ky said. “Our people are still gathering intel.”

Lylan bowed her head and Sift looked concerned.

“What are you two talking about?” Sift asked.

“My brother,” Lylan whispered. “The Legion’s Vault in Malth. They’re going to execute him.”

“Won’t he just queue back at his bind point?” Hamma asked.

Lylan shook her head. “If you die too far from your bind point, the notification of your death never reaches the temple.”

“By too far, you mean they’ll throw him through a portal somewhere,” Ruwen said.

Lylan nodded.

Ky clapped her hands. “None of that. This is a vacation, and none of my people are going to die. Including your brother.”

Lylan looked up at Ky. “Thank you.”

Sift turned to Io. “You’re right! The Step Championship is starting there this week.” Sift looked at the ceiling. “Finally, I’ll get to see something fun.”

“Oh, you’ll see it all right,” Ky said. “It’s our cover as we work to free Lylan’s brother.”

“What do you mean, cover?” Ruwen asked.

Ky pulled a sheet of paper from her Dimensional Bag and Rami dragged her donut to the side. Ky placed the sheet on the table face down. “We need an excuse for us all to be in Malth.” Ky pointed to each person as she named them. “Xavier is the sponsor, I’m the coach, Lylan is the chef, and Hamma is the training Healer.”

“What are we?” Sift asked.

Ruwen had a bad feeling. After everything that had happened since his Ascension, he wanted to relax and avoid attention. He guessed the other side of that paper promised neither.

Ky flipped the paper over, revealing an invitation written in large flowing script. “You’re the Step team, of course. You two will fight in the Championship Tournament.”

Epilogue

Naktos stepped out of the ring of stones, the air colder than he remembered, and glanced at the setting sun. Fog half covered the rolling green hills, and he strode toward the sound of crashing waves.

This planet was one of Lalquinrial’s strongholds. Ironic, as Naktos knew Uru loved this world, especially this island, and still visited, walking the cliffs not far from here. Even the Master had grown attached to its beauty, although the inhabitants had been more primitive back then. It amazed him with a Universe so large, how one planet could gather the attention of so many gods.

Naktos crested a small hill, and a lonely tavern appeared, its windows shining uselessly into the twilight. He hated talking to the Blight Clan, but Simandreial was the worst. For him, this had always been about business and mutual benefit, but the Plague Siren enjoyed the suffering of others, even her allies.

Of all the disciples, Naktos got along best with Lalquinrial. He had begged his friend to join the Pact, but Lalquinrial never liked peace, and had gone his own way. Nibbling on the souls of others, however, was no path to power, and as the millennia passed, Lalquinrial’s desperation had finally moved Naktos to action.

They couldn’t chance being seen together, not when discussing tonight’s topic. If the other disciples discovered their activities, it would have devastating consequences for them both. Instead, his friend sent the Scarecrow, his most trusted companion.

Faint music escaped the wood structure, and Naktos opened the door. Four Infernal Realm Butchers sat at the long bar, their forms masked to look like locals. A young woman sat at a table by herself, and Naktos ignored her as he searched for the Plague Siren.

The young woman stood. “Greetings to you, Father of Stone.”

Naktos studied the girl. Her white hair barely reached her shoulders, and she hadn’t bothered to mask her black eyes or fangs. She had the fierce beauty of a Plague Siren, softened by Lalquinrial’s features. He hadn’t realized his friend had sired a child. It was nearly impossible for gods to create offspring, and he realized how much trust Lalquinrial placed in him by revealing this secret.

Naktos walked to the table. “I had expected the Scarecrow.”

“Mother is transitioning and unavailable.”

Naktos hid his horror. The thought of Simandreial as a Divine being terrified him almost as much as the fact she’d had a child. The girl’s stance gave her Step training away, but Naktos wasn’t an expert on such things. He would need to see her fight to determine her Step Clan. The girl, born from such powerful parents, even if her Core connections numbered less than seven, would still be formidable.

Naktos sat, and the girl did the same. “What should I call you, child?”

“Some call me, Echo.”

“Send my regards, and congratulations, to your father.”

Echo blushed. “He said you’d know.” She pushed a plastic menu toward him with a list of fermented drinks. “The local stout is very good.”

Naktos had no need for nourishment, but he wanted to develop his relationship with Echo. “That sounds nice.”

Echo smiled and raised two fingers.

Naktos wondered how much of Echo’s behavior was an act. He remembered how charming her mother could be when the situation warranted it.

Echo’s smile faded. “Your defeat saddened Father.”

“It saddens me as well.”

One of the Butchers brought two glasses filled with dark liquid. Foam topped the glass, which had a stylized gold harp etched into it. Echo took a sip, the foam giving her a mustache. She laughed and rubbed it away. “Father wonders how this affects our operations.”

“It forces us further south. Haffa and I have already begun tunneling.”

“The mines near New Eiru had the richest Order and Light concentrations. The essence further south is diluted.”

The young woman’s knowledge impressed Naktos. “That is an unfortunate truth.”

“This will severely impact Father’s plans for expansion.”

“It affects us all.”

Echo nodded and took another sip of her drink. This time she used her lower lip to clean off the foam. “It dismays him that six Executioners might have been observed by the one they