Strongest Among the Heavens
Chapter 323: Want To See

Chapter 323: Want To See

Every day, I feel it slipping away. The respect, the fear, the authority. They look at me differently now. Pity in their eyes, or worse, indifference. I was someone. Now, I’m a ghost. They walk through me as if I don’t exist.

All because of him. All because of Lyle!

As expected, there was no date and the handwriting was almost jargon. Luckily, working at hospitals made Dasha very acquainted with incomprehensible writing. He flipped through several pages, eyes scanning until he found another interesting entry. Bennet seemed to write wherever and however he wanted, all logic and formality thrown out the window.

I hear them whispering. "Bennet’s lost it." "He’s no longer fit for the top ranks." They’re right. I HATE IT BUT THEY’RE RIGHT. I’ve lost my edge. My loyalty isn’t enough anymore. It’s never been enough.

Seven pages later...

I’m weak. Weak, weak, weak, so weak. I’m not class six and I never will be. But they let me keep the number because I was loyal. I was loyal down to my last bone.

So if one person thinks I’m not loyal enough, I’m done.

One page later...

HE THINKS I’M NOT LOYAL. HE CHALLENGED ME.

’So someone challenged Bennet.’ Dasha could already foresee the outcome. More than his strength itself was his paranoia. After Lyle jumped to being number two, Bennet lost everything he saw in himself. Bit by bit, he was losing his spirit and he didn’t know why.

Two pages later, two days later, and DEFEAT was scribbled all over. Bennet lost his number and dropped to number 8.

I thought loyalty was enough. I thought being faithful to the Sapphire, to the Spectre, would protect me. But loyalty isn’t a shield, it’s a trap. It lulls you into a false sense of security, makes you complacent. I see that now.

Number 4 was a title of honor. Now, it’s a distant memory, a taunt. I’m Number 8, and I don’t know how to climb back up. I don’t even know if I can. I’m so weak. Weak, weak, weak.

Ten pages later.

They’ll see. They’ll all see. I’m not weak. I’m not. I’ll prove it. I’ll show them that Bennet is still worthy, still strong. I’ll regain my place, my respect.

Number 4. I was Number 4, and I will be again. I have to believe that. I have to.

The obsession with strength began. Dasha found himself mildly amused by it. Bennet listed his training, the potions he consumed, and the need to be disciplined. Reminding himself to fight for his place. That once, he was strong and he could be strong again. However, no matter how hard he tried, he could never push past Class Six.

’Class Six—otherwise known as the Gated Class. It’s the realm of the gods, the point in which players become monsters capable of threatening the world. The gap between Class Five and Six is massive to the point of appearing impossible for the unordinary.’

Bennet seemed to be a victim of that viewpoint. He thought it was impossible. In his heart of hearts, in spite of what he wrote, he didn’t think he could do it. Class Six was a dream.

I have to remember who I am. I have to hold on to that. I’m Bennet. I was Number 4. I was strong, loyal, respected. I can be that man again. I will be.

I have to keep fighting. I have to.

So he fought in the Colosseum. He failed. Strength was not gained. Bennet claimed in his journals to be gaining power but it was self-deluded. Dasha could tell with his Qi Sense that Bennet was the same as he was the last time they met. Half of the journal was filled by now.

Dasha stopped.

I don’t know if I should be writing this down, but something doesn’t sit right with me. Spectre Perdana is planning something big. They’re talking about establishing a modern fabric company under a new player, Damian.

I’ve been watching closely, listening. Damian is...he’s going to head this fabric company and... there’s something off about him. He’s too smooth, too confident. It’s like he already knows he’s going to succeed.

"Damian, hm?"

That piqued his interest. Dasha kept going. Three pages were not filled up as if building up to something.

I knew it. I knew it, I knew it, I FUCKINg Knnew iTTTT!

Perdana knows HE’S in the Underground. Perdana knows HE IS IN THE Dark Tower. Why would she have any connection to him? It doesn’t make sense.

So I did it. I went to the Dark Tower. Getting access to the Underground was more expensive than I thought. I had to dig out a lot of savings to get to someone who knew someone that could get me there. It’s just like the rumours say, the Underground is huge and dann creepy. The Dark Tower though is amazing. Connects to the roof and holds everything up. The fact that no one knows who built it is crazy.

BUTTTTT

I SAW MASKS OF JACK BEING SOLD THERE. HE’S HERE! SOMEWHERE, HE’S HERE! JACK’S WHITE MASKS WERE THERE! THE QUALITY IS HIS! IT HAS TO BE!

"Hrm."

’He’s convinced it’s real because the masks are like my own. Either Jack really is there or...’

Dasha closed the journal. Everything was starting to make sense. Jack, Daughter, Spectre 4, even Dionysus.

"Whhhhyyyy...." Bennet stretched the word, head tilting to his shoulder as he eyed Dasha. "Whhhhy is the mask broken? Why can I see your face?"

In a burst of speed, Dasha appeared in front of him. Bennet failed to catch his Qinggong.

"Bennet, my friend." Eyes were locked, the darkness of Dasha swallowed up the attention of the drunken Sapphire. "You really are amazing."

"Huh..."

"You wrote to your mother everyday, just as you said you would. That’s not easy to do, you know." Bennet looked up at him as if he were hearing the words of a god. "My own mother...hated me. She could never understand me and I could never understand her."

He slowly crouched down to his level, Bennet’s head following all the way.

"But you’re different. You’re bridging that gap. Your mother would be so proud of you. I know she would."

"Y-you...you think shoo?" Bennet sucked in a breath. "You really think so?"

"I know so."

The left eye of Spectre 8 watered.

"I...I want to see her again."

"I know you do." Dasha extended an arm and cupped his cheek. "You should wait. You need to get stronger, right? You need to write more. You need to be worthy."

"Do I have to...?" His face scrunched up. "No...no, you’re right, I have to. I have to be worthy. I have to..."

"That’s right." As Bennet lifted his hand, Dasha removed his. The touch of the devil lingered and Bennet wanted to touch it. Feel its false warmth.

To cry on the gods he has chosen; let them deliver you in the time of your tribulation.