Sev’s mind caught on a thought he’d had a moment before. He struggled to pull it back.

There was no one left to assume the responsibility of connecting to the Grand Anchor. No one but him.

Responsibility.

The Grand Anchor grew warm in his arms. The area around him, so small it had begun to press into and erode his very existence, began to widen once again.

That was the piece he’d been missing. It was the small bit of understanding that had eluded him, time and time again, because—because a part of him had kept on hoping that someone else would figure it out. That someone else would be able to connect to the Grand Anchor.

He’d assumed a lot of responsibility in trying to save the universe, but he’d only done it because he was the only one left, and on some level... he didn’t quite believe he could do it. He believed in everyone else—in Misa, in Derivan, in Vex—and he believed that they’d be able to find a solution where he could not.

What is Divinity?

Divinity was a form of power that operated through the domains of the gods. To cast a divine spell was to lay claim to all the divine threads he needed to and to assert his authority over anyone else that might use them.

To assume responsibility for those threads, in other words.

Each and every one of the gods was responsible for their own domains, for every priest and cleric and paladin that chose to worship them.

And he...

He was responsible for his team.

They weren’t here. He’d forgotten them. They’d stepped away, allowed themselves to be taken by the Void—a thought that made horror curl up in his heart.

Unbidden, a memory that should no longer have existed rose, flickering with the warmth of Divinity.

They hadn’t done it without speaking to him first.

“Hey, Sev.” Misa smiled a small smile as she stepped into the warehouse. Derivan and Vex were behind her, holding hands; they wore the same expression, a small hint of a smile but too much sadness in their eyes. “Things going okay in here?”

“No,” Sev answered. He fell silent. What else was there to say?

Derivan, Vex, and Misa all glanced at each other—they didn’t seem to know what to say either. Misa came forward and placed one of her hands over Sev’s own, and he flinched and moved it away; she didn’t try it again, though she looked at him with concern.

“I don’t know,” Sev said, answering the unspoken question. “I think... comfort isn’t what I want right now.”

“Because you feel like you shouldn’t have any?”

“Yes.” It just made him feel worse.

Misa watched him silently, trying to find the words. It was Vex that piped up next, to his surprise. “I don’t suppose it would make you feel better if we said it was okay if it doesn’t work?”

Sev laughed at that—and it was a genuine laugh, too, despite himself. Not bitter, not pained. “No,” he said. “I don’t think I could believe that even if I wanted to. But... thank you. For the sentiment.”

“I grew up with a lot of expectations on me,” Vex said. “It’s like walking around with weights tied around your ankles.”

“That sounds about right,” Sev agreed. There was a weight on his shoulders here, and it felt like it was pressing down on him with every second that passed.

“I don’t really know if there’s anything I can say that would help,” Vex admitted. “I had to figure out which expectations were my own and which ones were just my parents’. I did figure it out. Eventually. It’s not that I walk around without weights now. But the weights I have are the ones I’ve chosen. Like hanging out with you guys!”

Sev found himself smiling, in spite of himself. “I love you all, you know,” he said. “Platonically.”

Misa snorted. “You didn’t need to clarify that,” she said, amused.

“It was funnier if I did.” He smirked a little, then glanced back to the orb in front of him, his humor falling away. “...What would you guys do, in my position? Would you really think it’s okay if it doesn’t work?”

“I do not think it is in your heart to believe that,” Derivan said.

“Yeah,” Sev said. He picked up the Grand Anchor, examined the softly glowing inner core. He couldn’t really remember how he’d built this. “You’re right. It’s not.”

“There are many people that believe in you,” Derivan said. He examined Sev for a moment. “But there is one that does not.”

Sev glanced up at Derivan. “I know what you’re going to say.”

“Then do you need me to say it?”

“...No.”

He knew the answer. Even after all this time, there was a part of him that didn’t believe in himself.

Even his main method of healing for the longest time... it involved self-sacrifice. It was powerful, but he’d never looked for another solution. Another method. Another skill. He kept it in the back of his mind, like a button he could press to sacrifice himself if needed for somebody else.The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

It had been easy to throw a part of himself away like that. Easier than believing he could find another solution. But he had been able to do it—both with the Soulblossom and with Ixoryn himself, in the Anderstahl dungeon. The one time he hadn’t even considered that he might not be able to do it. The one time it hadn’t occurred to him to not believe in himself.

Belief. But not only in the gods.

The second part of the equation to Divinity.

The Grand Anchor grew even warmer in his hands, sparking another memory. The Void receded yet again.

“You can’t leave.” Sev’s breath caught in his throat—he felt like a child again, begging not to be left behind. Fuck. The memory was too familiar. He felt like he’d been through it a dozen times before. Echoes of the past lodged in his throat and burned his eyes, and he struggled to see, to speak. His mind raced for anything he might be able to say that would convince them to stay—

But warmth enveloped him. It took a moment before he recognized it as Misa, and a moment longer before he realized both Vex and Derivan had joined in.

Sev had lost more than he could remember at this point. Every Reset, he gathered a team that slowly became family to him. Every Reset, he lost that team—lost his memories of what they meant to him. He’d met some of them again this Reset, even. Aneryn, the shadow elemental and battlemage dying in Vex’s bonus room... he’d saved him, the last Reset, though at no small cost. Sylix, the Platinum ranker fighting under the name of Illyr, who lost his brother to a powerful illusory skill he hadn’t known how to control at the time.

More still that he could no longer remember.

He cried. He couldn’t help it. They were the last ones left. This was the last Reset, the last try, the last family he’d been able to make ever since coming to Obreve.

“How did you do it?” he asked Misa quietly. She’d experienced just as much loss as he had. She’d regained her family, sure, but for years, she’d dealt with the thought that her family, her entire village was completely gone. And she’d been lost in the rage and pain of that knowledge until she found herself again.

Misa closed her eyes. She seemed to understand the question, even without him explaining. “Honestly?” she said. “I just didn’t have any other choice. Sometimes, that’s what it takes.”

“Not very encouraging.” Sev chuckled, though the sound was small and broken. Misa just smiled a sad smile.

“Not everything is,” she said.

That was where he was now—with no choices left to him, no one else left to help. Misa had said they were all in this together, but they were gone now.

But they’d left for him. To give him more time. And so had everyone else, though some in Anderstahl had likely simply been lost as the Prime Anchor chose what it needed to keep safe.

The other two Grand Anchors were somewhere in the Void now. But if he was right...

No one had left him. Not really. Not if they’d done this for him, because they had faith in him. Because they believed in him.

It was all a matter of perspective.

Perspective and connection.

The warmth of the Grand Anchor grew until its physical vessel shattered; Sev felt something in his soul respond, reaching out in tandem, and at the same time—

You have merged with [Grand Anchor—Divinity].