Kieran quickly cleared the remaining traps in his immediate vicinity. Once he had a safe space to work in, he attended to the bodies of his foes with a glee he hadn’t felt since the first time he read an anatomy book.
Ever so carefully, he removed the carapace-plated armor from his two attackers. What he found underneath were humanoids he could best compare to elves. Their skin was dark blue, their ears ended in points, and they had long, platinum blonde hair.
Beneath their armor, they wore simple pants and tunics made from some kind of silk. Their bodies were completely hairless. Both were males, and both well-toned by what Kieran could guess was a lifetime of combat.
When he made his first incision, he took a moment to relish the sensation of a scalpel cutting into flesh. Last Breath was an incredible weapon, but it was unwieldy. And while the scalpel Darrick had created wasn’t perfect by any measure, it felt a hundred times better in Kieran’s hands than a dagger.
Kieran fell into a sort of trance after the first cut. It was as if he’d never left the lab. He made precise incision after precise incision. Carefully, he broke the bones around organs and extracted them, laying them out neatly on the ground. Once the dissection was complete, he cleaned his hands on a handkerchief from his pack, then set to work recording his discoveries in his new journal.
He noted first that these elves seemed to have adapted to living underground. Their lungs were smaller compared to what he would have expected from a humanoid, but the muscles around the lungs were stronger. This indicated the organs were accustomed to working hard, suggesting an adaptation to survive in an environment with a limited supply of breathable air.
These elves' eyes were dim, clearly unused to sunlight. That easily explained why the burst of light from Ashes to Ashes had stunned one of them so debilitatingly, even through the eye-covers of his helmet.
They sported a second liver, like the goblins. Their height was also lower than other humanoids he’d encountered so far. But without meeting more of them, he couldn’t be sure whether the height was a trait of their species or just individual variation.
The one he had killed with his dagger’s ‘Death’s Arm’ ability had sustained some significant internal damage. The heart and lungs, in particular, had been utterly shredded by the killing blow. But an examination of the other attacker’s corpse, the one whose neck was broken by the rope trap, revealed the most intriguing detail of the day’s findings.
These elves had a secondary heart.
As far as he could tell from his examination, this second heart was vestigial. It served no real function. Still, the fact that it was there at all fascinated him.
After finishing his sketches, Kieran cleaned his hands with a second handkerchief, thanking his past self for remembering to pack a half dozen of the things. Then he packed up his tools and journal and resumed his journey.
There was a feeling of peace within Kieran that he couldn’t quite describe. It was different from what he’d experienced the first time he cut into a creature of Lyruna. He had certainly felt satisfied then. The event had come after a long period of frustration and delay.
But now that he had completed a full examination, with proper tools for both research and notation, he felt… blissful. Like everything was right in the world.
He was still in the middle of a monster invasion. He’d been forced to hop worlds, probably realities, at the whim of a god. He was being hunted by an ancient nemesis he never knew.
Yet despite all of that, Kieran’s heart was lighter than it had been in years. He had learned something new about death. He was discovering new anatomies, even if they followed similar patterns to those back home. And he had barely scratched the surface of the new species available to him in this new world.
It was then that he remembered he could learn something else, even as he walked. He drew Last Breath and summoned its gear screen.




Last Breath
A gift from me to you, my Chosen Contender. May you wield it with grace and intent.
Lesser Foes Slain: 4 goblins, 1 gnoll, 1 boar-man, 4 skeletons, 1 Nahra’Drun elf
Greater Foes Slain: Broken Tusk, Indomitable Berserker
Weapon-Bound Skill:
Death’s Arm – Extend the dagger’s reach by conjuring a blade of ice, effectively making it a shortsword.




Nahra’Drun…
Kieran dismissed the screen, his mind turning to the language patterns he had begun to notice.
During his time on Lyruna, the only names he had encountered like this — separated into two words by an apostrophe — belonged to things that were, to put it lightly, ancient. So far, that meant the gods and Rah’Na.
There was no telling how old the gods were. But based on what he knew about the timing of invasion cycles, Rah’Na was at least a thousand years old. Probably more. Following the pattern, the Nahra’Drun species was likely to be at least as old as Rah’Na, if not older.If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.
Pulling out his journal once more, Kieran made a note at the bottom of a page to ask Rah’Na about the elf species when he returned to Eon’s Peak.
Then he resumed his journey, spinning Last Breath around his fingers as he walked. Knife-spinning was a habit he had picked up in the army, right along with knife-throwing. When he’d returned from combat service to work as a coroner, this habit had translated into pen-spinning.
Nothing Kieran did was idle, of course. The activity helped to keep his fingers dexterous. Most of his job in the morgue involved paperwork, and typing was rough on his hands. Pen-spinning helped work through potential cramps and made sure his fingers were nimble for dissection.
Now, as the dagger’s blade danced precariously through Kieran’s fingers, he appreciated the silvery sound it made while cutting through the air. He had heard it before, of course. The beautiful song heralded death for any unfortunate creatures that picked a fight with him.
It was beautiful even outside of battle, humming through the forest gloom. Still, Kieran quickly interrupted himself and sheathed the blade. Beautiful as it was, it also might as well have been a beacon pointing to his location.
Checking his bracelet to make sure he was still heading the right way, he almost failed to notice the first signs of trees thinning. He looked up to find himself almost at the tree line. Roughly fifty or so feet ahead, he could see the light of dusk peeking through the foliage, inviting him onto the open plains.
“If my estimates are correct, I’ll reach Groveside before the sun sets,” he muttered to himself, pushing forward.
Though he had kept a fast pace after the Oculus lost interest in him, the Nahra’Drun battle and ensuing dissection had slowed him down. But if he hadn’t forgotten how to read maps since his army days, then he could still reach the city, and the grove presumably beside it, before it got too dark to travel.
The sight that greeted Kieran when he emerged from the forest was both apocalyptic and hopeful at the same time.
A half-mile from the tree line, a massive walled city lay in ruin, almost completely covered in rampant vegetation. Kieran could see where the walls and gatehouse had once stood, along with the heavy roots and vines that had knocked them over. Beyond the walls were caved-in roofs and crumbled buildings. Trees, bushes, and flowering vines grew among the ruins and snaked through each cracked wall.
It was easy to note where the wild growth had started: a relatively small grove, right beside the western wall. At a glance, Kieran could tell that the grove was once diligently controlled. But with the absence of civilization, it had grown over the walls and into the city, taking over it completely as time went on.
Groveside was definitely an apocalyptic scene. Whatever civilization had stood there before was long gone. Yet, in the same breath, the city proclaimed a stubborn hope. It was an enduring sign that when civilization falls, nature will always be there to reclaim what gets left behind.
In a rare burst of sentimentality, Kieran took a moment to let the view before him fully sink in. So much life, rampant and wild… it moved him a little. He spent so much time among the dead that he often forgot the simple beauty life could bring.
And in a way, what lay before him was also death. Not of the individual people who had once lived inside the city. That was a paltry matter. No, it was the death of civilization itself.
An entire city had died. Its remains served as both corpse and gravestone. Nature had then come crawling in, decorating and memorializing this marker of a once thriving society.
Kieran briefly wondered if some might consider such musings as blasphemous, at least from someone devoted to literal Death. He dismissed the thought with a shrug. If Vahr’Khul had a problem with him stopping to smell the proverbial flowers once in a blue moon, the god was free to let him know.
Something about this conceptual death stirred the back of Kieran’s mind, pulling him to consider it further. But he still had a mission to complete. There would be time for pondering and meditation once he knew the priest was safe.
He continued towards the grove as darkness began to fall in earnest. There was no immediate sign of danger. Kieran was no fool, however. He knew the Pale Watchers intended to attack the grove. Either they had already completed their attack, or they were still preparing.
The first option was doubtful. Vahr’Khul surely would have told him if he had failed to arrive in time to complete the mission.
Still, he disliked the second option. It implied one of two things: the Pale Watchers weren’t ready to fight this priest, or they were waiting in ambush for Kieran to get there. He was willing to bet it was the latter.
Kieran picked up his pace, wondering how this priest of Life would react to a visit from Death’s Chosen Contender. Would the priest even be open to Kieran’s help? Or would he turn Kieran away, simply because they served ‘opposing’ gods?
As Kieran drew closer to the city, though, these thoughts were driven out by the full magnitude of the wild growth before him. Plants weren’t only growing over the ruins of Groveside. They were growing over each other.
The growth was utterly unchecked and wild. Vines grew over roots, while branches and bushes squeezed between any gaps. Whatever was on top was covered in lichen, moss, or some other fungi. And wherever possible, the same roots at the heart of it all continued to wrap around the rest, repeating the cycle of growth.
Kieran got the feeling that if he fell asleep by one of these plant amalgamations, he would wake to find himself devoured by new growths. If he woke up at all.
He wondered if this uncontrolled verdancy was the result of La’Rata’s influence. When he’d heard the title ‘Life Everflowing’, he had imagined La’Rata’s domain to be similar to Earth’s mythologies. He’d remembered some of his mother’s stories that focused on contained growth and ordered bounty, like farmers pulling in magnificent harvests.
Looking at Groveside, though, Kieran saw only… chaos. Yes, that was a fitting title for a scene of such unending growth. There was no order. No sense or structure. Only chaos.
Life in its purest form.
The sound of birdsong and various other woodland critters reached Kieran’s ears as well, louder with every step. Even animals seemed to be part of the chaotic growth around him.
He was almost at the grove’s edge when he spotted something most conspicuous in the wild growth: a natural tunnel, as if all the plants around it had purposefully avoided that spot to allow someone passage.
He checked his bracelet, confirming his suspicion, then started down the tunnel. Only a few minutes later, he emerged into the grove he had traveled so far to reach.
A beautiful sight greeted him.
In the middle of the grove was a small lake, hemmed in on all sides by verdant forest. Green light emanated from beneath the water and cast the scene in a mysterious glow. Beside the water, surrounded by at least three dozen species of flowers, sat a fair-skinned elf.
His long, green robes were decorated with still-blooming branches, their leaves and flowers glowing with green bioluminescence. His hair, long and flaxen in color, twisted and tangled with the growth on his robes. His features were gentle and visibly aged. Eyes closed, he appeared to be in deep meditation.
As Kieran’s foot touched the field of flowers that formed the grove’s carpet, the plant life seemed to shy away from him. At the same time, the elf’s head snapped to attention, his golden eyes landing directly on Kieran.
“How now, one of Death’s Chosen finds his way to my grove?”