Rites

Battle of the Mind XI

True battles unfold within...

Having crossed that threshold and comprehended higher spiritual planes... is death still your ultimate fate? Even if you awaken in dreams after falling asleep, must you still perish?

Nothing can challenge the destiny of all living things to wither.

Suddenly you feel compelled to ask: while your spiritual self remains awake, what happens to your physical form? When humans face death, where do souls truly go?

Thoughts of death consume you, growing more insistent...

ID: 5004828

Type: Enemy

Tips: None

Duration: 1 days

Waits For: 3 days

Marked as New Only on First Occurrence: 0

Starts Automatically: No

Triggers Result Automatically: No

Tag Tips: None

Tag Tips Up: None

Tag Tips Text:

Random Text: None

Random Text Up: None

Actions When Wait Expires

Action:

Slots

Slot #3
Your Own Thoughts

Locks: No

Is Key: No

Is Empty: No

Is Enemy: No

Conditions:

Pops: None

Slot #4
Your rationality can help, if you possess it

Locks: No

Is Key: No

Is Empty: Yes

Is Enemy: No

Conditions:

Pops: None

Slot #6
Consider the people and events around you for inspiration

Locks: No

Is Key: No

Is Empty: Yes

Is Enemy: No

Conditions:

Pops: None

Slot #7
The world's most terrible malice

Locks: No

Is Key: No

Is Empty: Yes

Is Enemy: No

Conditions:

Pops: None

Activation Conditions

This rite has no activation conditions.

Outcome

Prior

This rite has no prior outcome.

Regular

Sleep Terror
Contemplating death makes it feel increasingly imminent.

You recall reading about a creature called the shared-fate bird in some ancient tome - two heads sharing one body, taking turns sleeping. When the right head slept, the left head ate a wonderfully fragrant flower. Upon waking, the right head detected the scent and believed the left had deliberately eaten without sharing. In revenge, while the left head slept, the right ate a poisonous flower, killing both heads and their shared body.

While you sleep, might your soul seek revenge against you? Perhaps your other self drinks poison or undertakes impossible challenges... Your fear intensifies until you dare not sleep. You dread nightfall, closing your eyes, losing consciousness... Yet the longer you stay awake, the briefer your lucidity becomes. You drink the strongest tea, stab yourself with knives, soak in ice water - anything to stay awake...

Even you realize you're approaching complete madness.

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Lost Path
You foolishly seek to resolve your spiritual crisis through the absurd gods of the cultists.

You pray, plead, beg... only to be answered by cold laughter from the darkness.

Perhaps you still need to prove your worth to the chaotic gods.

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Impurity
You attempt to resolve your inner conflict through the god will of the Purist...

A white light surges into your mind, piercing your spine and triggering waves of agony - this is the Purist's response to your prayer -

"You are unworthy," says the pain. "Think again, consider what you could do for the Purist."

It "helps" you ponder for quite some time before gradually subsiding.

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Death Embraced
You contemplate calmly: life and death represent existence's greatest themes, never offering many mysterious answers - only one conclusion:

You will die, as will the Sultan, as will Maggie, as will everyone you love or hate.

What is there to fear?

Without death, you would witness everyone around you aging and dying... experiencing endless farewells and funeral processions. You'd sink deeper into isolated thoughts, eventually becoming an incomprehensible elder, a monster frightening children.

Timely death is life's deserved blessing; eternal existence would be death's mockery!

Having found your answer, your mind grows peaceful. Even if death arrived in the next moment, you wouldn't beg for reprieve.

You discover each exploration represented overcoming difficulties. Challenges demand greater power, using greater power brings satisfaction, this satisfaction unconsciously leads you toward the next challenge... and greater power.

Without challenges or risk of failure, no greatness exists. You've gained so much merely to repeatedly verify you possess so much.

Understanding this brings weariness yet spiritual calm.

Even if you're merely a donkey chasing a dangling carrot, at least you understand the trick's nature.

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Farewell Boat
You release your thoughts, cutting them loose, allowing them to fall limply around you.

Then you gently push these ideas forward with maximum benevolence. Every matter, every person, every encounter... You'll fight for survival but, like a tiger, won't kill unnecessarily or force your prey to dance in despair for your amusement.

Thus, death becomes a vessel woven from kindness. You board it, lie down, covered by loved ones' blessings and lamentations, accompanied by your achievements and pride. Water gently carries you forward, onward... until stone gates appear.

Your vessel passes through, while red-winged birds circle overhead, singing in unison:

"Behold - behold - it is [player.name] - one who lived without regret!"

You wake from this shallow dream feeling refreshed, fearing nothing.

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Ferryman of the Styx
You do fear death, not your own extinction, but posthumous attacks on your reputation and retribution against your loved ones. After all, you're hardly the most virtuous person... at least not the best, correct?

Then your furrowed brow relaxes, and you smile... The answer seems obvious - how foolish not to have seen it!

Having gained such power and strength, having walked so far through the soul's garden - surely you can eliminate all enemies before death claims you?

Satisfied, you light another water pipe. Nothing merits fear, for evil's reward is power over life. Even in death, you'll become the Styx's ferryman, deciding who lives and who accompanies you across!

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Golden Obol
You think of Bharat, who sells heritage for profit - homeland heritage, ancient world heritage, dead people's heritage. These legacies were once new, representing the dream of rebirth their creators envisioned.

After your death, will people similarly consume your legacy? Your hoarded coins, accumulated treasures, your thoughts, your character...

Like new gods devouring old gods' aspects, like new Sultans licking blood from old Sultans' wounds.

You silently resolve to plunder as much as possible from the dead before facing your inevitable end!

Afterward, you'll place a pure gold coin beneath your tongue, which supposedly pays the ferryman's fare.

As these thoughts form, a subterranean presence suddenly attacks you - seemingly furious yet excited. It urges you to plunder not just from the dead, but from the living - especially other living deities! It demands fierce attacks, passionate curses, until life becomes death, until - until...

Exhausted, you sigh, understanding divinity a little better.

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Reborn Blade
You think of the Roaming Swordsman.

His past died, yet he emerged from ruins. Rooted in decomposing noble corpses, his swordsmanship originated there; breathing fresh air blown from new winds, his robust physique developed.

Yet he remains a sharp sword, capable of severing anything, whether old or new.

Isn't death a blessing for someone like him?

Isn't death a blessing for all of us?

The Roaming Swordsman wielding his reborn blade can face death proudly - as can you. After all, you've both fought with everything you possess.

...No, that's wrong. Your past remains unkilled, requiring more from you...

God thoughts seize you, immobilizing your limbs as sacred voices pour into your crown.

...I can kill everything, or rather, purify everything...

...Only when your path behind lies utterly blank may you rightfully die...

...Advance, fight, in my name, for sublime purity...

...

He releases you, having spoken with perfect clarity.

You collapse, then crumple weakly. Today, your understanding of divinity deepens further.

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Action:

Game's End
You examine the Sultan's suspicion toward you, pondering.

The Sultan granted you power, not genuinely relinquishing authority but demonstrating his ultimate power - the power to bestow power.

Then he watched you play the game, suffer, rise and fall.

You clearly understand: if you die, he'll simply designate another to repeat the cycle... The game never ends, its history continues unbroken. As long as strong rulers exist, the game continues, history writing itself.

Human death seems so insignificant against institutional power... Individual fate represents mere ripples.

Even the gods, regardless which one, cannot disrupt this game, can they?

Ha... Even the gods - even the gods! Human-created systems, traditions, institutions, laws - even gods watch helplessly as their mortal vessels dance within these frameworks!

You collapse, overwhelmed by complex emotions.

They remain silent.

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Action:

God Instrument
Relaxing, your mind clears, casting out all fear, doubt, and restraint. Your soul is an empty hall, awaiting the divine to fill it.

He answers your call.

Black winds and mist swirl within you, forming fascinating things: seductive She Who Slithers, phallic images, sizzling roast pigs running wildly, newborn calves arise armed.

These illusions share a trait that chills you...

"Face."

Yes, the serpent has your face, genitals too, calves, roast pigs all. Fantasies all relate to [player.name] yet remain detached.

You tremble, covering your eyes. It's divine seduction...

"Serve me, I'll grant you courage against death; not immortality, but endless rebirth. You won't bother with physical differences, your soul eternal, with me!"

You fling to the ground, those faces linger in your mind...angelic seduction is addictive; an eternal follower seems too mundane...should've foreseen...

A bug crawls before you; suddenly thinking...look closely, does it have a human face, an immortal soul?

He laughs softly.

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Action:

God Purpose
You concentrate your thoughts, praying toward your soul's extremity.

You extinguish all desires - even desires for righteousness, for loved ones, for responsibility. While praying, only the Purist's words deserve your longing.

They respond.

Patiently They flow through your bloodstream, through every vessel, every muscle, every pore. This reminds you: all this will decay; but before decay, all can serve Their purpose.

Eyes closed, you feel divine touch, gradually understanding Their message...

Until decay claims you, you remain His pristine instrument.

While you remain useful, They will preserve you from corruption...

Resisting death is wrong, unless serving higher purpose.

Your god tempts you... You, a mere mortal, merit Their personal bargaining...

You kneel in profound gratitude. They linger briefly before departing this world.

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Extra

Rebuking Darkness
You dare invoke the most unholy name before the Immaculate Purity!

They thunder through your mind, Their light a spear piercing heaven and earth, a ruler lashing the world...

Until the next day's sunset, whenever your focus wavers, everything before you shatters into light and flames... This divine punishment They foretell... fortunately, They cannot execute it immediately.

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Ancient Enmity
Darkness boils as you mention Their enemy's name before a god.

Their anger transforms into a dark forest, intending to make you lost forever... Fortunately, you still pray for light in your heart. This beam, like a faint lamp, illuminates your path back to the mortal realm... it also reveals the monstrosities the evil god created from your fears. Masterpieces crafted from your inner terrors... about death, betrayal, failure, love... After waking, these images linger.

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Spiral of Destruction
Two gods, two enemies both craving world destruction, meet unexpectedly in the depths of your mind.

Here is an excellent battlefield where They can destroy each other... destroy your mind... again and again.

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