"This ''toadstool'' has been quite interesting," Umar mused as he saw Mictlantecuhtli struggle with his movements. The druid had consumed one of the many items they had stolen, in this case, a white-dotted red mushroom. "You are salivating a lot, but you seem to be able to… heal more rapidly."


    The man had gone a bit crazy after consuming, well, not exactly. Mictlantecuhtli only became enraged after tapping into the mushroom''s power with Enlightenment. Because of that, he had thrown a pot on the ground, and when it shattered it cut his bare foot, which wound quickly coagulated.


    "Purge the substance now," the old assassin ordered him.


    It took the druid a few seconds to process the order, but he finally went through with it. Assassins could quickly be consumed by the hallucinogens they consumed, so purging their body out of the substances was a must for an assassin that at least strove the title of Shadow.


    Umar was bewildered to find how purging affected the world of ideas, though. He had never before inquired about how the substances could just disappear from an assassin''s body, but now he realized that the world of ideas may have something to do with it. The toadstool appeared in Umar''s realm for a moment in an abstraction of what the grown mushroom should look like, before collapsing into smoky cyan light which rapidly decayed and homogenized with the rest of the world of ideas.


    "Next one," the ''spirit'' ordered, and the druid grabbed the next product. It was some sort of beverage with plant-looking things floating on top. Truth be told, from a world apart, Umar couldn''t tell much more about this substance. Not its color, not its smell, and certainly not its taste. It disappointed him, but another part of him was happy at not having to shove a myriad of unknown substances into his body.


    Well, unknown to him.


    "This one is ayahuasca," Mictlantecuhtli explained. "We could have prepared it here, but because it''s mostly used to cure hangovers and herb addiction, we don''t have a use for it. But I took it as you said medicine was valid."


    "Yes, one medicine from beyond the ocean, opium, is used to produce fires. So perhaps your native medicines can be useful."


    Whilst people, especially lowlifes, used opium to get intoxicated, Ydazi hospitals were brimming with it as it was a good anesthetic. Assassins didn''t use it much as the flame it produced was meager, but it did save in oil expenses in the long run.


    "Well, chug it then," Umar encouraged him.


    What happened next was curious. Mictlantecuhtli''s connection to the world of ideas seemed to flicker for a moment, the bond he shared with the druid also seemed to be slightly strained, but the effect was mild enough that it was harmless. Hmm, this substance could be weaponized against assassins if they are cut from the world of ideas, I''ll take note of this. Mictlantecuhtli didn''t notice the disconnect nor could he hear Umar''s thoughts and simply tapped into the concoction''s power.


    "Huh," Umar mused before Mictlantecuhtli could. "Our connection has strengthened, also yours to the world of ideas. How do you personally feel?"


    "I… yes, great spirit." The druid nodded and he did seem now more defined than normal in his cognitive self. "The… Greater Understanding is… confounding me. I feel like I can smell… deceit?"


    "Yes?" Umar snickered with his arms crossed. "The sun is yellow."


    "I… what?" Mictlantecuhtli blinked in confusion as he sniffed. "Yes, that smells like lies. But why? The sun is not… what? May my eyes deceive me, but the sun is yellow. Why do your thoughts smell of deceit?"


    "That may be true for the world of ideas, druid, but here it''s different. I can only observe but a pale and dead imitation of dull grey." Dead like me. "Let''s try a new one. My name is Yusuf."


    The druid sniffed around. "Deceit, again."


    "Hmm, this substance could be useful indeed," Umar scratched his beard. "What about… I am alive."


    Mictlantecuhtli sniffed but his gestures were different this time. "I cannot smell deceit this time."


    "Alright, this shows that the ayahuasca works." Interrogations have become easier now. "Show me how you prepare this beverage."


    Umar was not surprised to find that most of the ingredients needed to prepare the drink were available back in the Qiraji desert, but if he understood the principles behind the medicine, he could potentially recreate it. After all, most alcoholic beverages granted a boost of strength even if they were fundamentally different.


    Mictlantecuhtli purged the substance and continued with their list.


    "Oh, this one is interesting," he said.


    "What is it?" Umar looked over the druid''s shoulder to find a bowl filled with powder.


    "Shadowleaf powder," the druid explained. "We combine it with cocoa beans to produce a stimulant. But to produce the powder is a tedious endeavor as you need to turn them into ash, enough that it gains its properties, but not too much that it becomes charcoal."


    Considering how assassins used hashish instead of straight-up cannabis, it didn''t faze him that some medicines were this convoluted.


    Mictlantecuhtli sniffed the dust and after coughing a bit, he seemed to… vanish?


    "Mictlantecuhtli, where are you?" Umar exclaimed.


    "I''m… here, great spirit?" A voice said next to him.


    "Where?" The old assassin asked again, looking around but failing to see the druid. He could still see the fading silhouettes of the rest of the villagers, but he could no longer see the acolyte assassin.


    "Interesting…" The invisible Mictlantecuhtli mused. "The powder''s power seems to make me invisible to minds, and only minds as I''ve just waved to a boy and he waved at me back."


    "This could be useful to hide yourself from people with your same skillset but… there aren''t many of them. Nor they are as present in the world of ideas as you."


    But if I could use that power, then that would make me completely invisible. Umar pondered it again. On second thought, that''s a bad idea. I need to be perceived. But on certain occasions…


    After many hours, and days of testing – Mictlantecuhtli was getting ill with too many repeated consumptions even after purging the substances – they were able to make quite the interesting list of abilities. Not all plants, medicines, and drugs provided effects. Either they weren''t potent enough, or they were sharing known abilities with other substances like what happened with alcohol.


    They ended up gathering quite useful abilities besides the mentioned ones like inducing illusions onto other people or being able to dote the mind with single-mindedness. This latter one seemed useless, but considering how an assassin was more powerful the more wasted they were, absentmindedness was a given. Being able to supernaturally focus on a single task was a heavensent.


    But the last one… the last one was something else.


    "So why have you left this one for the last?" Umar asked Mictlantecuhtli as he hovered over the druid''s shack.


    Whilst he couldn''t quite levitate as a shadow in the world of ideas, he could purposefully get stuck on things like walls to simulate the effect. He had had so much free time that he was discovering things like that.Support the creativity of authors by visiting Royal Road for this novel and more.


    "Ah, because it''s quite the delicacy!" Mictlantecuhtli explained. "This is iboga bark! The shrub doesn''t grow on these lands, so I don''t know where they found it, but this yellowish color means it could only be it. I''m sure of it!"


    "And is this bark special?" The dead assassin swung from his legs like a pendulum to fight boredom.


    "Much so!" The druid enthusiastically nodded. "I''ve heard of elder druids using this on their death bed to commune with the spirits!"


    Umar fell to the ground. Mictlantecuhtli failed to notice this as he couldn''t perceive him as clearly as the assassin could with him, but Umar was struck with the greatest of epiphanies. Of course! They can use primitive Enlightenment, obviously some of these druids would have heard of Apotheosis before even if they don''t have a name for it! Could this be it then? This bark is why the Greater Understanding guided me here!


    "Consume it! Now!" The old shadow ordered him.


    "Yes, oh great spirit!" Mictlantecuhtli''s voice was filling with insubordination as of late as the power was getting to his head, but in this, they were aligned.


    The druid consumed the bark in some sort of ritualistic manner that required many gestures and tapped the power residing on the plant, and then… he exploded.


    Perhaps exploding wasn''t the most appropriate of terms, but that was how Umar perceived it from his biased viewpoint. Mictlantecuhtli suddenly fragmented into many selves that moved independently from one another, creating an explosion of smeared images.


    "Are you well, Mictlantecuhtli?" Umar asked him.


    "I feel… better than ever," the druid spoke with a cacophony of voices. The myriad of sounds all stem from him and all were with the exact same voice and tone, but they all copulated with one another to generate quite the interesting phenomenon.


    "What are you experiencing?" The fact was, Umar wasn''t really worried about the druid. Even if his objective was to starve off death, that goal only included his own. And he was aware some sacrifices had to be made for such a lofty goal.


    "It is… utmost curious," the acolyte looked at his shifting myriad hands. "I am seeing futures, or rather, possibilities. Not only my own but also those of others. I can know the path a man will take before they take the first step, but the further I look out, the blurrier the images become until they split into a mess of possibilities."


    "I see…" He didn''t. But if what the drugged druid was saying was true, then this drug had a lot of potential.


    Powerful indeed, but how does this help me with coming back to life? Have I misunderstood the Greater Understanding?


    "Yes, I see it! I behold it!" Mictlantecuhtli started screaming out of nowhere. "For the truth is the most painful! For the truth is the most disgusting! I behold you!"


    "Mictlantecuhtli?" Umar took a step backward from the shifting maelstrom of visages that the druid had become, howling faces trying to rip themselves out from the main body. But his query fell on deaf ears.


    "They sing with nine truths! They are the beginning and the end! Their name is Reality!" His voice became more potent but rugged, he started clawing at his visage, blood pouring out of his orifices. "They are a conjoined effort! Truth is but the most dangerous offense! I see you! Let the hand go, wicked gemstone! Step backward, lavender soul! Hold your ground, illuminated one! Shine your thoughts, feathered serpent! Share your secrets, emerald mother! Speak your love, silvery king! Accept the offer, golden traveler!"


    Each of the voices shouted orders at the different people with different titles, but most of them became too blurry for Umar to hear them, but there were countless ones.


    Then, all voices focused on Umar. "Escape now, fading shadow."


    Before Umar could ask what he was talking about, Mictlantecuhtli collapsed on the ground and he felt their connection snap. The old shadow didn''t need to check on the pools of blood nor the silent cognition to know that the druid had died.


    Nor did he have the time.


    The world of ideas moved. The whole reality trembled and shone.


    Umar turned around and saw something that shook him to the core. On the horizon, he saw a monolithic shape that even eclipsed the pale sun. A massive, world-spanning tree loomed on the horizon. But even worse, it shone with a color.


    Red.


    What the… Instantly, Umar knew that was the answer to his prayers. Red was the only color that materialized in the world of ideas, and it only came from practicing assassins directly looking into this plane of existence. He didn''t know how that much red had appeared or how it had been shaped into a tree, but he didn''t care. He just ran.


    Exhaustion wasn''t a thing in the world of ideas, at least not physical one, so Umar ran with all his might. He ignored every zone that may have a modicum of habitation as the more deserted places were, the faster he would reach the red tree.


    Escape now fading shadow, he said, Umar pondered as he reached the ocean and stepped over the sluggish waves. Not many people seemed to observe these coasts closely, enough for the waves to move, but insufficient to produce realistic movements, just an approximation of what it should be.


    Unfortunately, the dead assassin got his answer.


    The red tree flickered.


    No! The shadow protested and extended his hand to the light even if he was leagues away. Fortunately, it seemed to be only a hiccup, or more precisely, an advent as it turned back into its shining and crimson self. The light and the color were dimming. He needed to get there fast.


    "I didn''t want to do it this soon…" Umar grunted and took a deep breath.


    Whilst short, the days he spent with Mictlantecuhtli had been useful in comprehending the world of ideas and his status as a remnant of a dead man. This version of Umar, himself, interacted differently with the world of ideas compared to a living person. An assassin couldn''t affect this realm, but… he could. Enlightenment was an act of mind, of corruption and finesse. And a mind was something he had plenty of.


    For the first time since he had died, Umar shadow stepped.


    He zipped across the peaks of the colossal water mountains like lightning, not stopping, not tiring. But his actions had a price. Like the assassin who lost part of their intoxication when they performed any act of Enlightenment, he was losing cognition. Mictlantecuhtli had given him plentiful reserves, but shadow stepping couldn''t be compared to plainly thinking cost-wise.


    With each step, Umar felt as if a part of his very being was being consumed.


    Eradicated.


    But he knew deep into his bones – into his fleeting memories – that the way out of this world was through that ethereal red tree.


    Even without any lungs, the old assassin panted as each time his mental body materialized after each step. Instead of shadows like in the world of the living, he was becoming puffs of cyan, but each subsequent puff had a less vivid color. Each step wasted weeks of cognition if not months.


    His cognitive self was disintegrating. But the tree was disintegrating faster.


    He couldn''t allow himself to miss this opportunity.


    Like a castaway on a foreign land and without food, Umar began sacrificing parts of himself. His skill with the mind and Enlightenment allowed him to be selective, so the first things to go out were his hair. They brought no use to him. Then with careful sacrifices as he allowed himself a single thought per shadow step, he slowly consumed the fat accumulated in the perception of his old body, as if he was eating himself.


    But those weren''t enough. All these body parts had no intrinsic value, they held no cognition, they held no observation. Umar grunted at the realization that the Greater Understanding brought to him. Sacrifices had to be made. With the next shadow step, he cast away his right eye.


    Funnily enough, he felt no difference in his sight even if now a void filled his right eye. This world worked through thoughts and perceptions, so to observe it eyes weren''t needed, only a clear mind.


    This sacrifice brought him enough energy to jump into the Ydazi mainland. Yes, this was where the red tree had spawned. In the Ridged Highlands of the border between Ydaz and Loyata.


    He perched over a mountain peak – a real one this time – and overserved the landscape. There were many red dots around the tree, he instantly recognized them as the eyes of fellow assassins. All looked at the tree in confusion like him, but they couldn''t understand its importance.


    Umar took a step forward; he couldn''t allow himself to rest as the light had almost faded by now. No longer a mastodont that threatened the very heavens, but a mere hill in size. Its red light was dissipating into the ground and transforming into a blinding cyan. The shadow had never seen such a powerful cyan before in this realm, but he couldn''t bask in its glory now. What he needed was that violent red of life, not the placid cyan of wisdom.


    But he was betrayed.


    Upon taking that step, he fell to the ground. The old man grunted, but no words came out as he tried to stand up. Emphasis on tried. His body didn''t respond to him. Nothing responded to him. What…? His previously cohesive self had degenerated into cyan mist, only resembling a vague silhouette of a human.


    No! I''m so close! Not now! Umar struggled around. If he couldn''t walk, then he would crawl. If he couldn''t crawl, he would throw himself out of the mountain and try to land on that dwindling tree, only the size of a common tree now. NOT NOW I''VE SAID! He threw himself and floated in the air like a leaf carried by the wind, even if such a concept didn''t exist in the world of ideas.


    He was close, so close… A whisp by now, truly a shadow of his previous self, but that meant his movement was sluggish. Slow. Yes, she would reach the spot of the red beacon, but by that point, it would be too late.


    No… No! I refuse! You won''t have me, death! But his struggle was in vain. No amount of willpower could change the fact that his cognition was so degraded. Even getting the assassins on the ground to observe him was impossible as they were all fixated on the light that pierced both worlds.


    No… n-o. . . He felt himself fading again. His cries of desperation were powerful thoughts that only degraded him further. Let alone reaching the beacon''s location, he would disappear before the light would.


    This was it; Umar of Sadina, Grandmaster of the Order and almost-ascended assassin, was going to die. Forwent to oblivion.


    Eyes. Cyan. Observation. Acknowledgment.


    It came on like a flash. A cosmic imagery. It was the briefest of instant. A unit of time so measurably small that it meant nothing to a human mind. But Umar felt it. Those cyan eyes peering at him, reading his very being, but beyond all else, acknowledging his existence.


    The surge of power was immeasurably small, but that had been the last push he had needed.


    Being acknowledged.


    With one last act of willpower and stubbornness, Umar, the undying shadow, crossed through the fading red light.