[Quality]: Rare
[Requirement]: Level 1 - 10 Psionic Class
[Effects]: Binds with wearer on use
[Description]: The Warplate worn by Archons was designed to be paired with an [Archon¡¯s Psiblade]. When bound to the same wielder, both the Warplate and Psiblade form a symbiotic bond. This bond is then used to synchronize evolutions for both the Warplate and Psiblade to ensure maximum potential, for both the items and the Psion they are bound to. With the fall of the [Archon Order] and the loss of their bloodline, it is exceedingly rare for a Psion with the correct Archetype, Ambition, and Aspect to emerge and bond with the items early enough to bring out their full potential.
¡°Okay,¡± he said approvingly. ¡°I owe Tarnys a beer for this suggestion.¡±
Right when he said the words, a sudden sense of awareness gripped him, and Leonidas looked up at the door. He had the oddest feeling, suddenly, that Tarnys was about to walk through the door. It was like he could feel the elf approaching, and when he thought the other man would open the door, Leonidas looked right at it.
A moment later, that¡¯s exactly what Tarnys did.
Woah. Did I just track him with Psi?
¡°Ready, Leonidas?¡± The raven-haired elf in question asked him with a once-over appraisal. ¡°The Arena Master was none too happy about it all, but he knows better than to argue with the Dusk-Lord. He¡¯s probably going to make your first match spitefully brutal, though, so I hope you¡¯ve had enough time to prepare.¡±
Leonidas frowned and walked toward the elf instead of answering immediately.
When he did, the subtle ¡®feeling¡¯ grew noticeably stronger. Experimentally, he stepped a few feet away again, and it grew slightly more faint. He stepped closer to Tarnys again, let the feeling build as he did, and then once more stepped away from him.
¡°Leonidas?¡± The elf asked in momentary confusion. ¡°What are you¡ª?¡±
¡°I can feel you,¡± Leonidas said without bothering to obfuscate what was happening. ¡°Like you¡¯re broadcasting some sort of signal, and I¡¯m receiving it. This is super weird. Cool,¡± Leonidas clarified, ¡°Very cool, in fact! But also weird.¡±
¡°Ah,¡± Tarnys said after a moment of clear confusion, which melted quickly into understanding. ¡°You awakened your Psionic Focus.¡±
¡°My what?¡± Leonidas asked immediately upon recognizing the name of his skill.
¡°Your Psionic Focus. It¡¯s a passive skill that allows you to identify the presence of people you¡¯ve had time to, for lack of a better word, attune to. From what I understand, it¡¯s like a form of extreme spatial awareness. When you get stronger, it becomes sort of like what you Terrans call ¡®active radar¡¯, if my memory is correct.¡±
¡°...that sounds incredibly, incredibly overpowered.¡± Leonidas said with wonder.
¡°If you get that far, sure.¡± Tarnys said glibly. ¡°Until then, though, it only works on people you¡¯ve attuned to, and I have no idea how long that takes, so¡¡± he shrugged and took a half-step toward the door. ¡°Now, we¡¯re expected. The first match starts in five minutes, and you need to be at the gate in the next two. Are you ready?¡±
Leonidas glanced around the room, glanced down at the sword in his hand, and then promptly shut the visor on his helmet securely. ¡°As ready as I can be,¡± he answered honestly. The visor barely obstructed his vision, he was happy to notice, though it did create black spots at the edges of his periphery that he¡¯d need to stay aware of.
¡°Good enough,¡± Tarnys said with a decisive nod. ¡°Let¡¯s go.¡±
Leonidas stepped forward to follow him, and the pair set off at a brisk pace.
The distance between the preparation chamber and the gate, thankfully, was far shorter than Leonidas had been expecting. Tarnys had likely picked a preparation chamber that afforded him more time to be ready, thanks to its proximity to the arena entrance, and for that Leonidas felt another wave of gratitude.
The gate itself was an immense portcullis in ancient style, with magitech veins running along the length of each of its thick teeth, and a wide circular tunnel connecting it to the preparation area. The arena beyond was hidden, as well, behind a layer of thick steel that had been artfully placed over the interior of the portcullis¡¯ spikes.
The surface, Leonidas noted with morbid amusement, depicted quite a vicious battle.
¡°They¡¯ll announce you shortly,¡± Tarnys said from beside him and pulled his attention. ¡°Remember that this is a fight to the death, not a show match. I managed to sneak a glance at your first opponents, and I¡¯ll deny it if anyone asks me, but I can say with confidence that I think you¡¯ll be alright.¡±
¡°What am I up against?¡±
¡°I can¡¯t tell you that,¡± Tarnys said with a firm shake of his head. ¡°I won¡¯t break the rules like that, but I can tell you that it¡¯s definitely within your wheelhouse to beat. Just focus on your sword-work and avoid overtaxing your stamina or psi reserves. Remember: Your specific Archetype uses Stamina as its resource, and your Affinity uses Psi. Your Ambition will probably use mana, but I doubt any of those skills will be very useful today.¡±
¡°What do I do if I run low on Stamina or Psi?¡± Leonidas asked while the first, and familiar tingles of pre-battle adrenaline started pumping through him.
¡°Do you have Aetherium left?¡±
¡°Yes.¡±
¡°Then buy some potions from the store, and hope you get a chance to drink them. Your helmet will impede you though, so you may want to consider removing it.¡±
¡°Isn¡¯t that just asking to be stabbed in the throat or head?¡± Leonidas asked warily. He hadn¡¯t worn a helmet on Elatra, but he¡¯d had his Divine Skein to protect him¡ªand with his mana density as the Hero, it had almost never been a concern that it would run out. At least, not until the battle with Azrageth himself.
¡°It¡¯s definitely a risk you¡¯d be taking,¡± Tarnys conceded, ¡°but the alternative is trying to pull off your secured helmet in the middle of combat, while also trying to avoid getting hit long enough to down a potion. If you¡¯re trying to take a health potion because you¡¯ve been injured on top of that, well¡¡±
¡°Couldn¡¯t I just, I dunno, de-summon it? It¡¯s bound, right?¡±
¡°Have you had time to practice that level of precise control?¡± The elf asked with a raised eyebrow. ¡°Because I¡¯d be worried about accidentally de-summoning everything, if you haven¡¯t.¡±
¡°Okay. Fair point.¡± Leonidas said with a grunt, and throwing caution to the wind, reached up and pulled off his helmet. Without hesitation, he handed it to Tarnys and shook his hair out.
At that moment, a booming voice filled the tunnel in thunderous Haelfennyr.
¡°{ANNOUNCING THE FIRST ROUND OF THE PRE-SHOW GAMES, WITH THE BENEVOLENT SPONSORSHIP OF HER LADYSHIP, DUSK-LORD DUCHESS LATHERIAN¡}¡±
¡°That¡¯s your cue,¡± Tarnys said when the voice abruptly went quiet again, and while taking a few steps back. ¡°Good luck, Leonidas, and remember something: ferocity is your friend. The crowd is everything in the games. Win the crowd, and even if you lose, you might walk away with your life.¡±
¡°Thanks, Tarnys.¡± Leonidas said genuinely. ¡°I mean it. Thank you.¡±
¡°You¡¯re welcome, Leon¡ªAce.¡± Tarnys said with a smile. ¡°See you afterward!¡±
Leonidas raised his sword in salute, and turned back to the portcullis when the magitech veins erupted with light, and the portal to the arena rose in a brilliant flood of morning sunshine.
He took a final steadying breath, and then strode out to the roar of the crowd.
B1 | Chapter 16: Arena Combat, Toofystabbas I
The first thing Leonidas noticed when he entered the Arena was that the floor was not covered in sand, but instead consisted of white manastone in every direction, with elegant whorls and patterns in Haelfennyr inscribed across its extent. Massive runic matrices dotted the surface under his feet, and he could feel¡ªeven with his low level¡ªthe passive immensity of the magic humming below him.
The walls of the Arena¡¯s interior were high, too; at least thirty feet tall, and marked by magitech veins that shone with azure power. His eyes glanced along the seats, and he saw that of the roughly ten thousand-person capacity, perhaps one quarter of the seats were filled¡ªand more were slowly, but steadily filling. Several premier ¡®boxes¡¯ were on display as well, positioning at the the edge of the arena¡¯s high walls where they had the best seating, and devoid of any protective glass or physical barriers.
Instead, he noticed the subtle blue sheen of magical shielding enclosing the entire arena from just below the top of the walls all the way toward the sky.
It was an elongated bubble, he realized belatedly, trapping the combatants within.
¡°Smart,¡± Leonidas admitted under his breath, and then turned to look for his opponents. The arena floor was perhaps three hundred feet in diameter, and formed a circle that abutted every single one of the walls. Along the extent of that white manastone, he quickly found the enemies he¡¯d been appointed.
When he did, he almost missed a step.
Tarnys was not kidding. I was not expecting this.
A group of goblins ten strong were approaching him from the far side of the arena. Each one of the creatures couldn¡¯t have been more than three feet tall, and wielded an eclectic mash-up of swords, daggers, spears, nets, and even clubs that looked ridiculous to Leonidas¡¯ eyes.
¡°{LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, I PRESENT OUR FIRST CONTENDER! A NEW ARRIVAL IN DAWNHAVEN, AND SPONSORED BY THE DUSK-LORD HERSELF! I GIVE YOU¡ ACHILLES!}¡±
Leonidas looked up in surprise at the sudden return to booming volume, and after a moment¡¯s hesitation, raised his unencumbered left hand to wave at the sparse crowd. A smattering of applause, boos, and even laughter greeted him when he did, and Leonidas lowered his hand with a sigh.
¡°I guess they don¡¯t think I¡¯m worth much, yet.¡±
¡°{STANDING IN AS HIS FIRST CHALLENGE, WE HAVE TEN GOBLINS FROM THE TOOFYSTABBA TRIBE! THESE ONES IN PARTICULAR, IN FACT, WERE PARTLY RESPONSIBLE FOR WIPING OUT THE TERRAN SETTLEMENT TO THE NORTH! IT WILL BE INTERESTING TO SEE WHETHER ACHILLES CAN AVENGE HIS FELLOW TERRANS¡ªOR IF THE TOOFYSTABBAS WILL ADD ANOTHER TERRAN SKULL TO THEIR COLLECTION!}¡±
Leonidas¡¯ eyes narrowed when the announcer said his piece, and he regarded the goblins in silence. The ten of them, while looking relatively weak, had apparently been part of a tribe that had murdered a settlement? That likely meant they¡¯d wiped out a town that had been in the area pre-Incursion.
He felt his adrenaline spike at the thought, and the grip on his [Archon¡¯s Psiblade] tightened until the leather creaked.
The goblins for their part were regarding him with beady black eyes, and snarling in a harsh and high-pitched cacophony of voices that he couldn¡¯t make heads or tails of. They seemed to be agitated by his proximity, but were¡ªremarkably¡ªobeying the rules of the Arena, as far as Tarnys had explained them. He couldn¡¯t fight until the Arena Master said he could, officially. It would be seen as quite the faux pas if he ignored that rule.
¡°{I HEAR THE TOOFYSTABBAS EAT THEIR VICTIMS, TOO, AND CREATE WEAPONS FROM THEIR TEETH! ONE MUST WONDER, THEN, IF THE DECORATIONS UPON THEIR WEAPONS ARE TAKEN FROM THE SLAIN TERRANS! HOW MORBID, IF SO! WILL THEY ADD ANOTHER SET OF TEETH TO THEIR COLLECTION TODAY? I, FOR ONE, AM EAGER TO¡}¡±
The announcer¡¯s voice faded from his awareness. Leonidas reached within himself, and let himself focus on the breathing exercises Miranda had taught him. In through the nose, out through the mouth, and ground the spirit. His mind settled into a razor focus, and he once more felt at the laughably compact mana channels within his body. On Elatra, he had been able to channel enough magic to shatter castles.
On Terra, he¡¯d struggle to break a chair.
Thankfully, if the System didn¡¯t object, he knew a way to steadily correct that.
Leonidas¡¯ focus went to his still-forming Core, and he stimulated the energy there. Sweat broke out across his body immediately, but he ignored it, and instead focused on stoking the nascent power within his center and harnessing the riotous energy of his [Cataclysm Core].
Unlike the Radiance Core he¡¯d had on Elatra, there was nothing harmonious or peaceful with his new one. The [Cataclysm Core]¡¯s energy was very much like the forces of nature he had been compared to, and it felt like he was trying to wrestle with a hurricane, earthquake, wildfire, and tornado all at once. His Psi spiked within his mind, and he forced his Willpower into action with Intent.
A funnel of Psi formed within his Core, and before he could double-guess himself, he forced the energy of the Cataclysm through his mana channels.
His body spasmed, and Leonidas dropped to all fours immediately. His sword clattered to the stone, and he braced himself on shaking limbs upon the manastone below him. The [Cataclysm Core]¡¯s energy was like a blade where it sliced through his mana channels, and Leonidas felt himself shaking with the effort not to scream.
Cold sweat covered his body under his armor, and adorned his face, and it was all he could do to stay aware of the pack of Goblins¡ªall of whom were now cackling eagerly. They saw a weak human, defenseless and ripe for the killing, and were eager to add his teeth, perhaps, to their trophy case.
Leonidas barely noticed them, other than to make sure they didn¡¯t ambush him.
¡°There are wolves, Leonidas, and there are sheepdogs.¡± Miranda had said with solemn intensity. ¡°Remember which one you are, and show no mercy to the wolves.¡±
Leonidas reached over toward his sword while the energy of the Core scoured his mana channels, and felt each agonizing tear as they were brutally widened. Nanometer by nanometer, the energy of his Core forced his mana channels to widen, and forced his physiology to accelerate its development. The pain, he realized, was very likely System-wrought as much as a consequence of the process.
After all, he doubted his own body would react this strongly to his own Core.
The Arena Master was still monologuing and building ¡®hype¡¯ when Leonidas reached out and took his sword in hand. He was still talking, too, when Leonidas slowly pushed himself to his feet with a ragged breath, and stoked the furnace that was his [Cataclysm Core] once more.
¡°You can take the soldier out of the war, Leonidas, but you can¡¯t take the war out of the soldier. Remember that.¡±
¡°I hear you, Miranda,¡± Leonidas said while focusing his gaze on the cackling goblins.
I am the sheepdog¡
The Arena Master¡¯s words were met with cheers and boos while he continued. He was still monologuing, but it didn¡¯t matter.
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¡and the wolves are before me.
Leonidas exploded forward with every iota of speed his [Chivalric Charge] allowed.
The first goblin in his path only had time to shriek half a syllable in alarm when he rose, and then Leonidas was closing on it like an obsidian blur. His blade arced upward into a two-handed forward thrust, and Leonidas punched through the same shrieking goblin with enough force that the creature exploded in an eruption of gore.
Blood, viscera, and a half-destroyed corpse rained down across the area when Leonidas blew through the Goblin like it was a three-foot tall fantasy pinata.
The rest of the goblins stood frozen, either in shock or terror, he didn¡¯t care.
He had no intention of giving them time to recover.
The moment that he arrested his momentum, while mentally noting that he¡¯d lost almost a third of his stamina; Leonidas turned to the nearest goblin and snatched it up by the head. The creature flailed in his grip, but before it could do more than raise its club, he turned his gaze to its fellows and bodily smashed it head-first into the manastone below him.
The impact vibrated up his arm through the armor hard enough to rattle his teeth, but Leonidas ignored it. The energy of Cataclysm raging through his forcibly expanding channels drowned out all else in its symphony of power and pain, and his honed meditative focus let him push aside the pain as a secondary concern.
All he cared about was meeting the eyes of the staring Goblins, and letting them understand the cold inevitability of their fate. They had thought themselves the hunters while slaughtering the defenseless, and taking their grotesque trophies.
He would teach them what it meant to be the hunted.
The creature under his left hand mewled pathetically, and viscous dark red blood spread from where its skull had been crushed against the impervious stone. The crowd was screaming things he couldn¡¯t understand, the Arena Master was yelling something, and the goblins were coming out of their shock-induced silence to begin shrieking in rage.
Leonidas ignored the distractions.
His hand moved down to the throat of the creature he¡¯d slammed, and he picked up its limp body. Leonidas turned to his left when he did, and used all of his strength to hurl the goblin toward one of the already-moving clumps of its fellows.
Screams of alarm followed the action, and Leonidas immediately diverted to the other group of four. His mind reflexively attempted to use Lumenkill Swordforce, and then he remembered half a second later that he had no access to the power. The normal curse of frustration was absent in his state of heightened focus, and instead he simply pictured his [Psikinetic Blade] skill.
The Skill implied the creation of a weapon, but Psi was a power of Intent.
The idea of limiting himself to what was expected seemed¡ foolish. Complacency like that would have gotten him killed during the war on Elatra, and there was no place for it in the post-Incursion world he¡¯d transmigrated back to. Creativity would be the greatest weapon in his arsenal. Tarnys had told him that Intent meant everything with magic, and he saw no reason for that not to apply to Psi.
It was for precisely that reason he¡¯d invested in Willpower, after all.
Leonidas drew his Psi from within his Core and focused it onto the thirsty receiver of his [Archon¡¯s Psiblade]. Instead of feeding it into the jewels directly, though, he shaped it with [Psikinetic Blade] and then layered the Skill over the edge of his bonded weapon. When it formed, he¡ªwithout entirely understanding it himself¡ªanchored the Skill to the amethyst in the crossguard of his sword, and felt the Skill snap into place.
There was no other way to explain it. The makeshift swordforce manifested, and it clicked into position as if both the skill and the Psiblade together had been designed for exactly that sort of interaction. Given what the item descriptions had said about the Archons, that very well might have been true.
His Psi reserves dropped by 15 points, and he instinctively knew that his new creation would only last for thirty seconds.
I¡¯ll have to make do.
The first Goblin that intercepted him when he advanced a moment later did so with gusto. It wielded a pair of short daggers, and made a vicious swipe at him with both that it seemed to believe would be enough to puncture his more vulnerable chainmail.
Leonidas responded by tapping into his remembered skills from the Seven Sword Arts, and executed the Third Art by muscle memory: Parting the Waterfall.
The goblin¡¯s daggers were smoothly swept aside and away by the psiforce-distorted edge of his sword, and Leonidas smoothly reversed his right hand on the hilt of his sword, and twisted his body off of his right foot to wrench the sword back toward the goblin following the deflection.
The [Archon¡¯s Psiblade] punched through the right side of the goblin¡¯s skull, eviscerated both its eyes with its extended swordforce inside the creature¡¯s head, and slammed into the manastone with a screech of sparks while carrying the goblin¡¯s half-bisected skull and gray brain matter with it.
Leonidas stepped forward, and tore the sword out of the back of the dead goblins¡¯ head at the same time.
The remnants of its skull burst with the pressure of his swordforce, and before the corpse hit the ground he was already launching himself at the next two of the three remaining goblins.
He had enough time to correct his sword grip, and then he was among them.
The first of the two goblins, thrusting a spear at him furiously from his left, was partially sidestepped. A small ripple of scarlet energy ignited along Leonidas¡¯ left fist from the Cataclysm mana raging through his channels, and he slapped aside the spear enough for it to scream harmlessly against the side of his armored ribs in a shower of sparks.
The moment it did, he trapped the wooden half between his arm and body.
The right side goblin of the pair, wielding a scimitar that looked like a greatsword for the creature, slashed at Leonidas overhead with both arms. Instead of attempting anything fancy or uselessly elaborate, he simply used his once-again-normal sword grip to parry the blade as it descended and¡ªwhile ignoring the ripple of shock along his arm from the surprisingly strong impact¡ªslammed his armored fight foot into the much smaller creature¡¯s naked sternum.
A wet and meaty crunch of bone and cartilage sounded from the impact, and the goblin staggered backward and vomited blood. Leonidas immediately dismissed it from his concern and pivoted to face the spear-wielder, who was still trying to free its weapon, and sliced open its head with his psiforce-enhanced blade.
The creature fell backward with a shrieking scream of agony while feeling at where its large left ear, eye, and part of his face had been sliced away¡ªand Leonidas let the spear go loose enough for him to grab it like a javelin in his left hand when it dropped.
The last goblin of the quartet realized its mistake too late, and Leonidas took it through the eye with its compatriot¡¯s spear before it could lift its net to do anything about it. The goblin he¡¯d kicked managed to try to come at him again at that point, and Leonidas caught its swinging sword in his left hand with a grunt of effort. He looked down at the creature, locked his eyes on its own, and firmly crushed its bony wrists in his hand.
The goblin screamed in pain, and Leonidas dropped its wrists in favor of grabbing its throat.
He turned when he did, to the remaining six goblins¡ªone of which was insensate after being slammed into the stone, and another of which was spasming on the ground from the shock of having part of its head sliced off¡ªand held the screaming goblin up for them to see. The group hesitated momentarily when he did, and Leonidas used every iota of his strength to toss the small creature a foot or two into the air.
When he did, he executed the Fifth Sword Art: Phases of the Moon.
Leonidas¡¯ stamina dropped while his [Archon¡¯s Psiblade] hummed through the air.
The goblin hit the ground in three pieces with a wet squelch of viscera, and flood of dark, viscous blood. The bitter taste of it was on Leonidas¡¯ tongue, from the amount of gore he¡¯d so far unleashed, and he spat some of it out onto the moonstone under his feet.
Four dead, two incapacitated, and four left.
His [Psikinetic Blade]¡¯s unorthodox incarnation would wear off in ten seconds.
Leonidas sighed at the realization.
I¡¯m definitely sloppier than I was. He lamented mentally.
It was a good thing he had plenty more practice coming up.
B1 | Chapter 17: Arena Combat, Toofystabbas II
Leonidas opened the third bout of isolated combat with initiative.
The spear he¡¯d used to kill the net-wielding fourth goblin of the quartet he¡¯d engaged was torn free with the wet nose of ruined flesh, and he didn¡¯t even bother to do more than give it a cursory shake to remove the brain matter clinging to the iron spear-tip. He took the weapon in his left hand and, without more than a cursory estimation of range, hurled it like a javelin at the incoming band of goblins.
Three dodged, one didn¡¯t.
The spear punched through the miserable creature¡¯s right shoulder, and tore its arm from its socket.
Leonidas ignored the shrill screams that followed, and took advantage of the momentary and somewhat involuntary stumbles of shock that stifled the approach of the other three creatures. With only seconds left on his use of [Psikinetic Blade], he instinctively triggered [Chivalric Charge] again.
Momentum flared along his limbs while the System interpreted his command and sent energy into his muscles, and with the same unconscious thought as was used to move limbs for actions like walking; Leonidas exploded forward into the small trio of as-of-yet unharmed goblins.
His [Archon¡¯s Psiblade] whined through the air when he swung it, and the distorted surface of his blade¡ªrippled and hazed beneath the layered power of his psiforce¡ªsliced downward through the lead goblin from the crown of its skull and out through the center of its groin.
The creature detonated with the transferred kinetic force of his momentum and striking blade, and the two halves of its body exploded outward to splatter the other goblins and Leonidas himself with gore and viscera. Shrieks of terror erupted from the creatures¡¯ mouths, and they finally seemed to have had enough.
With one goblin insensate, one half-dead with part of its skull removed, and a third screaming itself hoarse with a dismembered arm; the two remaining hale and healthy creatures spun on their heels and scrambled away. There was no specific direction to their flight, per se, but instead a general sense of simply wanting to be elsewhere.
Leonidas didn¡¯t pursue the two fleeing goblins immediately, and as they ran, the psiforce surrounding his sword died at last. The skill¡¯s loss was immediately evident, and Leonidas felt a subtle wave of fatigue wash over him when it deactivated. It had not simply been manifested, he realized, but had been draining his Psi while it sustained itself.
He could feel the lack of it within his mind and Core, though it was¡ªvery slowly¡ªalready regenerating. He wanted to sit down, meditate and Cultivate, and let it recharge. He couldn¡¯t, however. He needed to finish the fight before his scouring concluded. The combat meditation Miranda had taught him was immensely potent, and it had seemed absolutely perfect to limit-test the technique during a battle against possibly the weakest enemies he could imagine.
Its downsides, however, were vast if they came at the wrong moment, and even goblins could become lethal enemies in that circumstance. He didn¡¯t have time to deal with those consequences, if they reared their head mid-battle.
Instead, he turned back to the three wounded creatures and made his way to the first one: the creature he¡¯d skull-slammed into the manastone with his initial wave of seething anger. A crackle of scarlet lightning snapped along his left hand, but he ignored both it and the lance of pain that shot through his mana channels afterward.
He was reaching the limit of what was safe for an initial scouring session.
Keeping that in mind, he closed his left hand around the goblin¡¯s throat and lifted it smoothly into the air. Wordlessly, he showed it to the crowd, and then¡ªafter moving his hand to the crown of its skull¡ªdecapitated the creature from behind, and along the middle of its mouth. Its upper and lower jaw separated, and the Goblin spasmed once before going still.
Leonidas dropped its bisected skull and moved to the next creature: the one writhing on the ground with its arm blown off.
This one Leonidas simply stared at coldly, and then raised his right foot to place on its screeching face. The goblin¡¯s good hand scrabbled at his sabaton, and Leonidas lifted his gaze to the crowd in silence. The faces he saw were watching with rapt attention, and he sought out the human ones¡ªor what he thought were the human ones¡ªamong them.
His heartbeat thundered in his ears, like a subtly ramping timebomb.
The clothing was the biggest indicator, as many of the locals had seemingly retained the rustic attire remote towns like the Twin Lakes had been known for. These people, he reminded himself, were what the creature below him had sought to destroy. Innocent, hard-working, and simple folk only looking to make their lot in life a little easier.
Leonidas¡¯ jaw locked, and his sabaton pressed down on the Goblin¡¯s head.
Another shrill scream left the creature¡¯s mouth, and he paid it no heed. Instead, he lowered his [Archon¡¯s Psiblade]¡¯s point toward the ground, and then stabbed it down into the bicep of the screeching greenskin¡¯s remaining arm. The arena was hauntingly silent while the monster wailed, and Leonidas surgically worked his blade back and forth until he felt the limb severed entirely.
Then, he resumed the downward pressure with his boot.
He felt the cartilage of its nose give way first, and its hooked shape broke and shattered under his sabaton. Its biting teeth were next, and his heel applied enough force to break several of them while it tried to get away.
Its legs kicked and flailed at him, and it started grinding its own hairless skull against the moonstone in an effort to escape. Blood lined the white arena surface where it writhed, and Leonidas paid it no more attention than he might a stepped-on ant.
The smell of feces and urine met his nostrils when the goblin soiled itself in terror, and still Leonidas applied inexorable pressure to its comparatively fragile skull. Bone cracked with a ringing, acoustic echo that told him something¡ªor someone¡ªwas intentionally enhancing every moment of the creature¡¯s pain.
Leonidas turned his gaze along the edge of the Arena wall and searched methodically for where the box housing the Dusk-Lord was, and found her only a few moments.
Ceruviel Latherian was standing with her hands clasped at the base of her spine, and her purple lips were set into a neutral line.
When his eyes met hers, her expression was unchanged.
She simply watched him, and seemed almost bored while she did.
The goblin¡¯s jaw broke, and its orbitals shattered under the pressure. Blood pumped from its ruined face, and its writhing kicks grew slower and more lethargic. Blood covered him in visceral stains along his boot and shin, and his other foot was sprayed with a line of it where part of the creature¡¯s skull had finally broken and ejected vital fluid and viscera.
His eyes narrowed faintly at the Dusk-Lord, and with a final push of his leg muscles, he crushed the goblin¡¯s skull and brain matter into the manastone entirely. A wet and sticky mess of blood, gore, and gray matter absorbed his boot-heel; and Leonidas was forced to yank his armored foot from the remains of the dead creature¡¯s head.
The silence of the arena continued while Leonidas walked toward the last remaining injured goblin, and after looking at it for a few moments in cold consideration; he stabbed the half-dead creature through the gut, and opened it up to the neck. Stomach, organs, and eviscerated intestines spilled from its torso, and Leonidas kicked it away to spray its offal across the arena floor.
Like unwanted garbage.
Someone in the crowd vomited noisily enough for him to hear, but he paid them no heed. His actions, he understood, would seem senseless or deranged to many. It would seem unhinged, perhaps, or even devoid of sense beyond the need to be as brutally violent as possible.
That was not the case.
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Leonidas, contrary to what anyone thought, was making a statement.
Not for the crowd, though, and not for Dusk-Lord Latherian.
He was making a statement to himself. He was acknowledging the new world he was in, where people died¡ªnot because of a summoned Demon and his legions of hell, but because of what he had done. He was acknowledging that he had caused all of it. He was acknowledging that, to protect his species, he had to be more than the righteous beacon of light that had led the forces of Elatra to common victory against a tangible evil.
Evil was not so cut and dry in the real world. Evil didn¡¯t cower from the Light, or recoil from the power of Lumenkill Swordforce. Evil was a murderer in an alley, a rapist in a park, and a thief in a market with no desire to go to prison. Evil was mortal, and multi-faceted, and incarnated in the form of monsters both of the System¡¯s making, and of mortal making as well.
Evil was in everyone, and everything, from the intelligent races like elves, humans, dwarves, orcs, and others; to the mutated flora and fauna, the unleashed monsters, and all things in-between.
Leonidas was a sheepdog in a world that had been given to the wolves.
If he wanted to protect the flock, there was only one real choice left to him.
He would build a lighthouse to guide the desperate home, and shelter them. But he would do it not just with benevolence, or kindness, or charity: he would shelter them with the pragmatic acknowledgement of what the post-Incursion Terra really was.
A world where the only authority that mattered was what could be enforced at the edge of a blade. Leonidas would be the one to hold that blade. He would be the requiem that they feared. In order to achieve that strength, he had to kill the Hero he had been, and evolve past the moral and ethical simplicities of an enlightened society.
Ambition was the mother of savagery, and the lover of the ruthless.
And in him lurked an Ambition that would accept no less than the World itself.
¡°That doesn¡¯t change the fact that we¡¯re animals, Leonidas.¡± Miranda had said grimly. ¡°We kill, and they kill. The only difference between demons and us is the motivation.¡±
He didn¡¯t know when, between leaving the tunnel and engaging the goblins, he¡¯d realized the need to grow beyond the simplicity of black and white good and evil. He couldn¡¯t have identified the moment when his convictions, still strong even ten minutes prior, had eroded so rapidly that the idea of moral absolutism seemed suddenly short-sighted to him.
All Knights had a Code, so he¡¯d been told. Yet, he¡¯d never gotten his. The System had never provided him one, despite the clear implication that it was part of the Archetype¡¯s core existence.
Leonidas¡¯ eyes traced over the crowd again, and he felt his right leg spasm at the building pressure of his mana scouring. He had only minutes left, he realized suddenly, before the process began to cripple his ability to function temporarily. He had a plan to avoid that, of course, but it likely meant he needed to kill the remaining goblins for it to work.
His meditative focus was stoked more firmly, alongside his Core, and Leonidas searched for the goblins while part of his mind still worked away at the problem of his Knight¡¯s Code. The energy from his Core filled him with destructive power, and he shuddered subtly at the pain¡ªand the beauty of its ferocity. There was a kind of release within that power, he realized. The Cataclysm had been a brand he¡¯d feared only moments earlier, but¡
His eyes found the goblins, his thoughts trailed off, and he exploded into a sprint.
The first of the goblins was perhaps one hundred feet away, and was attempting to find a way to raise the nearest portcullis in order to exit the arena. Leonidas gave it no chance to do so, and instead narrowed his eyes¡ªwith the aided focus of his battle meditation¡ªon the three-foot high green murder-gremlin.
When he closed in further, he spotted the ax it was wielding and an idea came to him. First, though, he had to kill the little bastard before anything else.
¡°Hey!¡± Leonidas shouted in a way that was distant to his own mind, and the thundering beat of his heart in his ears; its pace ratcheting up with steadily growing intensity. His time was running short.
The goblin spun around at the sound of his voice, and its beady little eyes widened in fear. A quick glance around its surroundings showed that it was trapped and, with a surprisingly defiant scream, it chose fight over further flight and tried to charge at him.
Leonidas met the creature head on, parried away its ax, and then kicked it in the head hard enough to slam its skull into the manastone arena floor. His [Archon¡¯s Psiblade] descended a moment later, and he pierced the creature¡¯s brains through its ears in a splatter of viscera, and reached down to retrieve its ax.
His left hand spasmed when he did, and he very nearly failed to grab the haft of the weapon.
¡°Fuck,¡± he whispered under his breath, and then forced his fingers to tighten around the ax. He just needed a little longer, if what he suspected was true. If it wasn¡¯t, he was in not just for a world of pain¡ªbut an extremely dangerous experimentation with healing potions, and a lot of wasted Aetherium.
If his plan, concocted after his experience in the preparation room, worked?
Well, he¡¯d have found an incredibly painful, but incredibly rapid way of increasing the potency of his mana flow and the future development of his [Cataclysm Core].
Leonidas¡¯ eyes sought after the last goblin, and he found it rushing toward its fallen comrades and the weapons lying around their bodies. ¡°Not a terrible idea, actually, if not for how overmatched the little shithead was.¡± Leonidas muttered through the cracks in his battle meditation. His heartbeat was a drum in his ears, and he could feel a subtle unsteadiness entering his limbs.
He needed to close distance with the last goblin fast.
A low growl escaped his lips, and he felt his battle meditation starting to fray at the edges. He¡¯d spent too long enjoying the misery of the goblins he¡¯d killed, and too long immersed in the bloodlust he¡¯d started developing in the arena. Even then he could feel it, like a raging tide of building need for violence, for destruction, for carnage.
It was a feeling of pure and primordial rage. He wanted to destroy the goblins, not just end them. He wanted to shatter them to pieces, crush them under heel, blow them apart, and burn them to a crisp. The vehemence of it shocked him to some degree, but he didn¡¯t think too hard about it.
He had no time to think too hard about it.
The moment Leonidas came within fifty feet of the remaining creature, he reared back the ax in his left hand, braced himself to a momentary stop, and then hurled the ax with every bit of remembered muscle memory he had.
It flew, blade over shaft, across the distance with every iota of his enhanced strength¡
¡and cut off the top of one of the creature¡¯s ears.
Leonidas cursed at the same time as the goblin spun around with a scream of pain, and was already running while its eyes frantically searched for and eventually spotted him. Twenty feet from the goblin, the creature shrieked at him with a dagger in each hand, and bravely¡ªor perhaps foolishly¡ªgestured at him, and the crowd, in a last defiance of fate.
In response, Leonidas triggered [Chivalric Charge].
The Knightly ability filled his limbs with the same surge of System-enhanced power, and he exploded forward into an on-rushing velocity that closed distance with the goblin at speeds that would have made Usain Bolt look average.
The goblin¡¯s beady eyes widened in shock, as if Leonidas hadn¡¯t done the same thing twice before, and Leonidas barely had time to lament how dissatisfying the goblins¡¯ clear collective stupidity made the whole ordeal before his [Archon¡¯s Psiblade] cut horizontally through the creature¡¯s torso with enough force to blow the top half of its body away from its legs and waist.
Distantly, Leonidas realized that his Charge skill seemed to always take him several feet past his target, or at least propelled him with enough force that he ended up there. He distractedly wondered if that was something he could control, and then his arms spasmed and he dropped his sword.
His battle meditation started to fail at the same moment, and the intentionally deafened noise of the announcer and arena flooded in immediately.
¡°{...BRUTAL DEMONSTRATION OF TERRAN FEROCITY, THE DUSK-LORD¡¯S ERSTWHILE CHAMPION APPEARS TO HAVE EXHAUSTED HIMSELF!}¡±
Leonidas barely paid any heed to the obviously ruffled Haelfenn blowhard, and instead worked at suppressing and pushing back the destructive power of his [Cataclysm Core] where it raged within his mana channels and, he realized with momentary alarm, his body at large.
He hadn¡¯t even noticed the energy seeping across the rest of his anatomy.
Every ounce of his upgraded Willpower was spent toward curtailing the raging energy, and Leonidas let out an agonized snarl of pain as he slowly, and agonizingly shoved the energy back like he were trying to bottle a hurricane. The more he fought it, the more it seemed to resist, and yet he was making headway.
Slowly, desperately, and with mere moments left before it felt like his heart would explode; Leonidas succeeded. The energy of his Core snapped back into its nascent, barely-formed translucent shell within his solar plexus, and he collapsed in the blood, gore, and viscera which remained of the goblins he¡¯d slain.
His limbs spasmed, his mana channels seared like he¡¯d ignited them, and still he waited for what he hoped would come.
¡°Come on¡¡± he rasped with suddenly-raw vocal chords. ¡°I know you won¡¯t hold it against me, you over-exaggerated fucking computer¡¡±
Then blessedly, suddenly, and almost begrudgingly: a System screen appeared before him, and when it did, Leonidas¡¯ face lit up in a triumphant grin.
B1 | Chapter 18: A Path to Power
Leonidas stepped out of the shower and back into the Duskguard¡¯s locker room¡ªas he¡¯d rationalized calling it¡ªwith a sigh of relief, and reached up to towel his black hair. He¡¯d been given a fifteen minute break between rounds, apparently as per normal, while the Arena Master prepared his next match. He¡¯d immediately taken the opportunity to access the newly discovered shower, built into an obfuscated side chamber, at the leftmost far end of the rectangular locker room¡¯s length.
He¡¯d acquired 2 more Attribute Points and 1 more Skill Purchase point with his Level Up, and had immediately invested both the Attribute Points into Strength. Psi was powerful, and he fully intended on using it as his primary form of enhancement and offensive spellcasting; but if his physical ability to resist or output damage was weak, Psi wouldn¡¯t be able to save him.
His low Agility was a concern as well, though a less pressing one.
[Chivalric Charge] allowed him to close distances rapidly when he had to.
Leonidas also had the feeling that, with sufficient practice, he could probably trigger the ability to take him to a specific location within its range, rather than the maximum possible distance at the maximum possible velocity. There was definitely nuance to the Skill, and he¡¯d be a fool not to try to exploit it.
That, though, was a less urgent issue¡ªand one that he was using to idly distract his mind from the real, and more pressing thought: what had happened to him in the Arena.
His Scouring and Battle Meditation had worked wonders, and he¡¯d received an interesting achievement¡ªand perk to go with it¡ªfor using both methods during the fight, but those were not his immediate concern, still.
He grimaced while he dried his hair on the white towel, and stepped forward to look at himself in a nearby mirror with narrowed eyes.
What concerned him was why he had become so suddenly and abruptly vicious.
In the heat of battle it had made perfect sense: goblins had killed humans, and so Leonidas brutalized the goblins. Easy, simple, and perfectly rational.
Except that it wasn¡¯t rational by any stretch of the imagination.
Something had overtaken his composure, self-control, and normally pragmatic approach to combat. It had demanded a more violent, and overtly sadistic approach to the fight¡ªwhich was distinctly rare for him, and had been so even during some of the worst points of the war against Azrageth. Something had influenced his mind, subtly at first, and then with escalating levels of control; until he¡¯d become as aggressive and violent as a consuming wildfire.
His eyes lowered along his naked chest, and settled on the muscled expanse of his solar plexus¡
¡precisely where his [Cataclysm Core] was located.
It hadn¡¯t taken a genius-level intellect to deduce that a foreign element had perforated his normally procedural and battle-sharpened self-control, and Leonidas was thankfully a nominally intelligent enough man that he could do basic addition. His Core¡¯s energy had proliferated across his System, and his sense of reason had steadily been supplanted, first slowly and then more rapidly, by an uninhibited call to violence that was completely out of character.
¡°Well, not completely.¡± he admitted to himself out loud, and looked up to meet his own deep blue eyes in the mirror. ¡°We both know that isn¡¯t true.¡±
The night Miranda had died, Leonidas had wept like a child. That was true.
It was also the night, however, that he¡¯d demonstrated exactly what a Hero without disciplined foundations, or restraint, could unleash. His fury, unchecked and unrestrained, had torn through the forces of both Azrageth¡¯s demons, and the Dark Lord¡¯s Tainted mortal soldiers, like a force of nature. It was neither self-fellating nor exaggerated to admit, truthfully, that he had taught even the staunchest heart the meaning of fear that night.
He still remembered, in vivid detail, the way he had obliterated Mount Ulan.
Mir¡¯vas had risen in his hand, the blade¡¯s length shining with lightning and radiant mana both, and he had taken it in a two-handed grip above his head. His eyes, stained red by the tears he had shed for the woman that had mentored him, were locked on the fleeing contingent of Tainted retreating with haste toward the distant peak of Mount Ulan.
Leonidas felt his Radiance Core ¡®revving¡¯ in his chest like a celestial engine, and had almost been able to picture, with perfect clarity, the golden lines of power raging through his reinforced mana channels in response to his need for power. Mir¡¯vas had trembled in his grip, as if sensing what was about to occur, and yet had been powerless to halt it.
¡°Seventh Sword Art,¡± he had proclaimed in a voice hoarse from grief, and raw with hatred. ¡°Sunder the Heavens.¡±
The activation phrase had stimulated the building torrent, an ocean of divine power, into action. The dark of night had turned to day, and a beam of radiant white-gold energy¡ªblistering with roaring tides of lightning¡ªhad manifested from the tip of his blade and pierced the clouds above in a column of holy judgment.
Leonidas had slashed Mir¡¯vas with the fury of a mourning Hero, aggrieved by the death of a woman he¡¯d loved as dearly as his own sister.
The world had turned monochrome white for a second that stretched to eternity.
When it was done, Mount Ulan had been split in twain, and the earth had been sundered as if the palm of a god had chopped down from the heavens above. Aberrant weather and atmospheric disturbance had proliferated the air above, and aetheric storms had savaged the already-murdered thousands that had once been Azrageth¡¯s vanguard.
Leonidas had turned away once it was done, gnawed at by a chasm of grief unsatisfied by his vengeance, and had left without a second glance.
Behind him, only destruction had remained where greenery had once flourished.
It had been a fitting metaphor for the landscape of his wounded heart.
By the time he¡¯d returned for Miranda¡¯s funeral pyre, there had been nothing left of the forward army that Azrageth had deployed to test the Alliance¡¯s strength. Leonidas had walked back into his own army¡¯s camp drenched in blood, and with Mir¡¯vas held loosely in his right hand. Only Lyara and his companions had been able to muster the nerve to approach him, and they had guided him away to clean up before Miranda¡¯s funeral.
It was not the first time his army had been silent since the war¡¯s outset.
But it was the first time it had been due to fear, not of demons, but of him.
Which brought Leonidas back to the consideration of his new [Cataclysm Core]. If his grief over Miranda had been enough to awaken that level of hate and destructive instinct within him, even with the calming and comparatively docile tempering of a Radiance Core, then what would it mean if he lost someone of equivalent value¡ªlike Kairi, or a future companion¡ªwhile under the influence of his new Core?
The thought chilled him in a way he couldn¡¯t express in words, and he knew he¡¯d need to find a way to both rein in, and more carefully manage, his use of what he was tentatively dubbing ¡®Cataclysm Mana¡¯.
At least until he developed a method with which to properly filter the violent urge to destroy, burn, crush, and shatter which seemed like a natural companion to the scarlet essence raging within his still-forming Core.
Cultivating his [Cataclysm Core], he realized grimly, would be a challenge like none he¡¯d ever faced¡ªespecially if he wished to do it without losing parts of his more rational self.
A ping on his [Psion¡¯s Focus] interrupted his thoughts, and alerted him to an approaching presence. Leonidas looked past his body in the mirror, and stared beyond it at the door reflected at the opposite end of the room.
Tarnys opened it and stepped inside a moment later, though this time he wasn¡¯t alone.
The Dusk-Lord had come with him.
Leonidas turned to face them both when they entered, and¡ªdespite knowing he was essentially naked beneath the thankfully thick towel¡ªwalked with a soldier¡¯s practiced indifference toward the benches in the middle of the room, where a new set of clean clothes awaited him. ¡°Tarnys,¡± he greeted the elf with a nod, and then turned to the Dusk-Lord. ¡°Duchess Latherian.¡±
¡°Ceruviel will suffice in private, ¡®Ace¡¯.¡± the Dusk-Lord said before Tarnys could speak, and stepped forward with a clink of her silver armor. ¡°Your performance in the Arena was not what I expected.¡±
¡°I lost control,¡± Leonidas admitted honestly. ¡°It was an oversight, one I won¡¯t¡ª¡±
¡°No.¡± the Dusk-Lord interjected briskly. ¡°It was exactly what you needed to do. Do not mistake my outward disinterest during the match, which I know you saw, for disapproval. I had hoped you would make a spectacle, Leonidas Achilles, and you did precisely that¡ªand more besides.¡±
She stepped forward and eyed him over like one might examine a newly-bought stallion, then stepped around him slowly while she continued. ¡°Your next matches will not be against fodder like goblins, but the remembered brutality of your first bout will mean that even if you are more controlled; it will not count against you.¡±
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¡°You told the Arena Master to elaborate on their crimes,¡± Leonidas realized.
¡°I did.¡± she confirmed shamelessly while examining him with a keen eye. ¡°I wanted to see what manner of person you were, ¡®Ace¡¯. I wanted to know whether you were as calm and measured as you demonstrated, or if you had the fire, the fury, to survive in a world that is no longer your own.¡± The Dusk-Lord¡¯s voice was cold while she spoke, and Leonidas got the impression she didn¡¯t care about race nearly as much as a person¡¯s character. ¡°I wanted to know if you truly cared for innocent people, or if you were just another selfish, and self-serving piece of detritus to be thrown away.¡±
Ceruviel extended her right hand while she spoke and firmly gripped his left bicep in examination. Her strength, when she did, was demonstrable enough that Leonidas was suddenly certain Ceruviel could have crushed his limb on a whim if she¡¯d wished to.
¡°Your relative ignorance of the System, despite the years since Incursion, kindled doubt in my mind¡ªbut your performance in the arena dulled those embers considerably. I am now more certain you may be a prize, rather than a burden, though I will require a little more evidence before I can safely settle on that opinion.¡±
¡°And I take it I won¡¯t like the result of failing to provide that evidence?¡± Leonidas asked more calmly than his nerves should have allowed. There was a predatory intensity to the Dusk-Lord that was both exciting and terrifying, and the only way he could describe the sensation was as instinctive attraction to something unattainable.
He wasn¡¯t sure if he¡¯d want to bed her, fight her, or run for his life.
¡°You are astute in that assessment, Terran.¡± Ceruviel confirmed with no indication she picked up on his conflicted thoughts. ¡°Your next match will be against an opponent of my direct choosing, and one that will test your mettle and your talents. I am aware you aren¡¯t even at First Tier, and so I have not been overly vicious in the choice¡ªbut make no mistake, this will require all of your wits, and all of your ferocity. If you cannot emulate what you did in the first round, while simultaneously retaining your focus and composure; you will very likely die.¡±
¡°And prove your doubts correct in the process.¡±
¡°And prove my doubts correct in the process,¡± Ceruviel agreed.
Leonidas looked at Tarnys, and the elf just sort of shrugged at him.
Well, so much for that source of morale support, Leonidas thought dryly.
¡°Did you gain anything from the last round?¡± the Dusk-Lord asked him while coming to a halt in front of him.
¡°Level four, and an increase in Strength. I also gained something called ¡®Synergy¡¯ with my bound psiblade and warplate, though I don¡¯t know what¡ª¡±
¡°Synergy affects their growth and evolution alongside you,¡± Ceruviel cut in imperiously. ¡°It is a metric the System can track for you, if you allow it. The easiest way to explain it would be that your bonded weapons, which Tarnys was unreasonably brilliant for encouraging you to purchase, will help your growth as much as you help their growth through your own actions and experiences. It is a feedback loop.¡±
¡°Of literal Experience?¡± Leonidas asked with interest.
¡°No, of determination for the future. The greater your Synergy, the more definitive your weapon and warplate will be in their evolutions when you reach each Tier of power, and progress your Core.¡± Ceruviel reached out and pressed her armored right forefinger against his solar plexus. ¡°It all comes from here,¡± she said with a small amount of physical pressure. ¡°A low synergy, due to cowardice or a weak Willpower, will result in a lackluster evolution. A high synergy due to courage and strength of Will, conversely, will result in an extremely potent evolution¡ªor at least, an extremely complimentary and necessary one.¡±
¡°My Core and my mental state, then, affect my Synergy?¡±
¡°As does your use of Psi, yes. Archon equipment adapts to its master, Leonidas Achilles. If you prove to be a worthy one, then your strength will be considerable.¡± the Dusk-Lord¡¯s eyes were fixed on his with discerning intensity, and an amused glint registered in their purple depths. ¡°I assume you lied to Tarnys about your Ambition?¡±
Leonidas¡¯ gaze flicked to the elf behind Ceruviel, and he grimaced at Tarnys¡¯ intentionally blank stare.
¡°No,¡± Leonidas said carefully, ¡°but I wasn¡¯t wholly honest with him either.¡±
¡°Because your Ambition would scare him.¡±
¡°Because my Ambition would be a threat,¡± Leonidas clarified. ¡°And because I don¡¯t want to be killed for having it.¡±
¡°Tell me.¡± Ceruviel commanded in a tone that brooked no refusal.
Leonidas¡¯ jaw locked at her words, and he felt a wave of nervous energy fill him. The Dusk-Lord had him dead to rights, truthfully, and if her Affinity was Psi then it was only reasonable to assume that she had some knowledge of what he was thinking. It would be criminally idiotic to assume that Ceruviel had no ability to discern the thoughts of others.
He could try lying to her, but he had a feeling that doing so was more likely to lead to his death than just admitting to his true Ambition, and while it felt like he was being robbed of a potential dramatic reveal at a later date, and one that served him better; he had no choice. Comprising Tarnys¡¯ tenuous friendship had never been his goal, but concern¡ªand, yes, fear¡ªhad led him to where he was at that moment.
There was no point adding to it, even if he could deceive the Duchess.
¡°Sovereign,¡± Leonidas said finally, and saw Tarnys¡¯ impassive facade break when he did. Shock, anger, disbelief, and even awe were writ large in the dark-haired elf¡¯s gaze, and Tarnys seemed to sag a little after Leonidas spoke.
¡°Well now,¡± Ceruviel said with a palpable approval that surprised him, and was reflected in her eyes, ¡°that is different. Sovereign, is it? What an intriguing turn of events. It now makes far more sense why you weren¡¯t a blubbering mess in my office, or when guided here by Tarnys. What are your Ambition Skills?¡±
Leonidas blinked at her lack of negative reaction, or rather, at what seemed to be approval, and then answered her in a mix of surprise and mild confusion.
¡°Noble¡¯s Resolve and Oath of Fealty.¡±
¡°Yes, that makes far more sense.¡± Ceruviel said with a tone that almost sounded vindicated. ¡°My Ambition is High Noble, Leonidas Achilles, and is far more advanced in its attainment than your own. It affords me skills that both inspire my allies and terrify my enemies, or those that I wish to terrify. It also grants me considerable bonuses to Charisma.¡±
Ceruviel chuckled and stepped away from him with her hands on her wide hips. ¡°The fact you were not a stammering, and shivering mess of fear when we first met aroused my interest¡ªand now that I know you are a nascent Sovereign, that interest has grown into outright intent. Were you not so much younger than me, and such an ideal target as a student, I¡¯d make you fuck me right here just for the chance you might give me an heir with the same Ambition as your own.¡±
Leonidas¡¯ eyes widened at her bluntness, and he felt heat suffuse his cheeks. It was one thing to think about sleeping with her, because well, who wouldn¡¯t? But it was distinctly shocking for her to speak about it so boldly. He wasn¡¯t even remotely used to that sort of behavior, especially when compared to the conservative nature of women in Elatra.
¡°Calm down, ¡®Ace¡¯.¡± Ceruviel said with a quiet chuckle. ¡°As I said, you are both too young, despite your designation as a man in his prime by Terran standards, and too complicated. I do not bed my students, no matter their pedigree. The Prince thought that he could circumvent that rule by right of blood, and he learned his lesson with a bruised backside and even more bruised ego. You, however, are not so foolish¡ªand you share my Affinity.¡±
Ceruviel moved forward and lifted his chin to stare into his eyes, purple to blue, intently. ¡°More than that, you are the first person I have met in over a century that has the potential to become a true Archon.¡±
She released him after that and stepped around him again, while still examining him like he were cattle at an auction.
Leonidas, meanwhile, was still trying to get over her blatant statement about sleeping with him, and the uncomfortably appealing fantasies which the words aroused in his mind. He had been transmigrated to Elatra before he¡¯d managed to pass that particular rite of passage in College, and while there he¡¯d had neither the time nor luxury to pursue a sexual relationship¡ªnot with the risk of an assassin from any number of factions attempting to get close to him through such means.
The first person he¡¯d really considered pursuing something with was Lyara, and while he believed he¡¯d have had a real shot with her, that ship had very much sailed when he¡¯d been transported to Earth again.
More importantly than his hormonal woes, however, was that he was also trying to rationalize the fact that Ceruviel had all but admitted to being an Archon¡ªand, by extension, part of an Order which the System had declared to be dead.
While he was still trying to find a calm center, the Dusk-Lord spoke again.
¡°What is your Code? I assume that battle gave you the first part of it. You won¡¯t actualize it, nor your Duelist Aspect fully, until First Tier¡ªbut you usually receive elements of your Code in drips prior to that first Tempering.¡±
Leonidas had, in fact, received the first element of his code.
¡°Uh. It¡¯s brief,¡± he said with a genuine wariness. He did not like the idea of angering the woman, now more than ever. Not out of some simplistic desire to keep her happy, or naive belief in wanting to seduce her at a later date; he simply found her incredibly unpredictable. She was like a prowling panther, and he was a naked villager.
The Duchess, however, simply stared at him with a frown of impatience.
¡°¡®I will destroy those who seek to harm my own.¡¯¡± Leonidas quoted after he caught her stare. ¡°That¡¯s it. It¡¯s pretty direct, honestly. I expected something more grand or, I dunno, chivalric.¡±
¡°Knightly Codes are as much about your personality and motivation as they are about the honor of the Archetype. More than that, yours is quite impressively vague. ¡®My own¡¯ does not necessarily mean Terrans, but anyone you see as part of your circle or under your care, if my guess is correct. That also tells me you truly aren¡¯t as bigoted as your grandfather, though I had already guessed that.¡±
The Dusk-Lord regarded him with the same cold assessment.
¡°You grow more and more fascinating, Leonidas Achilles. We will have to see whether or not that fascination lasts beyond your bouts in the pre-show games. I believe your next match, in fact, starts in less than five minutes. I advise you to see to your preparations, and we shall meet you at the gate.¡±
Ceruviel turned and made her way to the door with a martial stride that did little to hide the curves that, for all her muscle, were still distractingly evident.
¡°Take a good look,¡± she said over her shoulder, and with a tone that made Leonidas realize with sudden mortification that he had been staring at her. ¡°If I take you as my student, I will tolerate no such distractions. If that means beating your fantasies out of you along with your consciousness, then I shall. Admire, Leonidas Achilles, but not be enslaved by your desires. Your path cannot afford the weakness of other, inferior men.¡±
The Duchess nodded to Tarnys and, without another word, exited the locker room.
¡°...I don¡¯t know what to think about you, Leonidas.¡± Tarnys said, and drew Leonidas¡¯ gaze. ¡°But I know this: the Dusk-Lord has not taken a direct disciple in my living memory, and I am about to cross my first century of life. If she truly thinks you can be her first¡ well, I advise you not to squander that chance.¡±
The elf hesitated, and then offered him a slight smile.
¡°Besides, even if you lied to me, seeing the Dusk-Lord make you blush like a boy with his hand in the mana cookie jar was worth it.¡±
Leonidas snorted, and felt some of his nervousness ease at Tarnys¡¯ words.
¡°We¡¯ll see you at the portcullis,¡± the elf continued in a more normal voice. ¡°Good luck, Leonidas.¡±
Tarnys stepped through the door after that, and was gone.
Once both had left, Leonidas sighed and pressed the heels of his palms to his eyes. He was embarrassed, yes, but more than that he was worried. The Duchess had clearly decided to mark him as a potential student, and while he could recognize immediately that it was a chance he would be a fool to pass up, she also reminded him¡ªin ways he found uncomfortable, given his confusing attraction to the woman¡ªof Miranda.
And if Leonidas were truly honest with himself, he didn¡¯t know if he could handle the emotional baggage that comparison represented.
¡°Fuck it,¡± he muttered under his breath. ¡°I¡¯ll deal with it after my match.¡±
After all, if there was one thing that was universally good for stress, it was an outlet.
And if he understood Ceruviel even slightly, she planned to give him exactly that.
B1 | Chapter 19: Nightmare Fuel
Leonidas entered the tunnel to the Arena proper with a welcome sense of calm familiarity. He felt refreshed after his shower, and even with the talk he¡¯d had with Ceruviel and Tarnys on his mind, there was a sense of purpose to what he was doing which soothed any remnant trepidation. What he¡¯d always wanted, more than anything else, was a goal and a purpose to push toward. In the Duchess¡¯ offer, he¡¯d found just that.
Fight, win, advance, live.
The remnant concern over his use of his [Cataclysm Core] remained in his mind, and Leonidas didn¡¯t by any means lack for caution when it came to the volatile¡ªand clearly mentally overriding power of the Cataclysm Mana, but he knew he had to learn to control it, temper it, and harness it for his purposes¡ªnot run from it, and cripple his cultivation in the process.
His Mana Sage Title was proof enough of the energy¡¯s efficacy.
Congratulations, you have unlocked a new [Title]!
MANA SAGE
[Rarity]: Epic
[Description]: You have managed to advance your Mana Channels in an unprecedented manner, through the use of hitherto unseen Cultivation methods on Terra. As a reward, you have been granted the title of Mana Sage, and been recognized for your bold innovation.
[Effect 1]: +25% Mana Pool
[Effect 2]: +25% Mana Regeneration
At the end of the tunnel he spotted both Tarnys and Ceruviel waiting for him, but didn¡¯t hurry. He continued at a measured gait, and worked on achieving his Battle Meditation again through his taught and remembered breathing techniques. Ceruviel had warned him that ferocity would be his ally, as much as focus and a level head¡ªand if he wanted to use the former, he would absolutely need to have the latter.
He had an idea for how to achieve a symbiotic harmony between both, but it would require a different kind of limit testing¡ªand in a more lethal environment than he might have preferred, though that brought with it unique benefits all on its own: such as the instinctive understanding that there was no reprieve in the event of failure.
Either he succeeded, or he died horribly in the Arena.
It made things simple in an oddly calming way.
When Leonidas came to a halt beside the pair of elves, and bowed to Ceruviel in a perfunctory manner, the armored Dusk-Lord snorted at him.
¡°Save your manners for if, or when, you¡¯re victorious,¡± the purple-eyed warrior, eyes aglow in the tunnel¡¯s dim lighting, said to him with perhaps a modicum more warmth than when they¡¯d last spoken. ¡°Your opponents have been the death of many aspiring Gladiators, and will be the death of you, too, if you let them.¡±
¡°Them?¡± Leonidas asked with a raised eyebrow. ¡°I thought I was going to be fighting an individual.¡±
¡°You were,¡± the Duchess said with a slight grimace, ¡°but things changed. I will explain it to you, but only when you return to your chambers in victory.¡±
¡°Should I wear my helmet this time?¡± he asked with a glance at Tarnys.
¡°Get used to not wearing one,¡± Ceruviel answered when Tarnys didn¡¯t. ¡°Psionic abilities can often be dampened by your mental state, and if you subconsciously envision your mind as entrapped¡ªsuch as within the confines of a helmet¡ªwhile wielding them, it can cause the abilities to lose potency.¡±
Leonidas stared at the Dusk-Lord for a moment, and then frowned.
¡°That¡ sort of makes sense, I think. Though, part of me wonders if you aren¡¯t hazing me for your own amusement.¡±
¡°You are welcome to ignore my advice,¡± Ceruviel said flatly, ¡°though it would be to your detriment.¡±
Behind her, Tarnys subtly but deliberately shook his head.
Leonidas took the hint.
¡°My apologies, Dusk-Lord,¡± Leonidas said with a bow of the head. ¡°You¡¯ll have to forgive my suspicion. I¡¯m simply¡ª¡±
¡°Oh shut up,¡± Ceruviel cut him off sharply. ¡°It is far worse when you simper. If you are going to doubt me, Achilles, then doubt me. Be your namesake¡¯s heir in truth. For all that I smelled war on you like a cologne, when we first met, you¡¯ve been acting like a moody adolescent rather than the soldier your stance and manner implies you to be.¡±
The Duchess turned to the gates, narrowed her faintly luminescent eyes, and then turned back to him. ¡°I do not know what manner of war tempered you, Achilles, but it did not do a full job. You still bear the resemblance to the child you were before it began, from what I have seen, and from what my vastly stronger powers over Psi tell me.¡±
Magitech lighting lit up the gate, and the Dusk-Lord stepped closer and lifted her armored hand to grip his chin, and pulled him down to look her in the eyes. ¡°The only time I saw some hint of the true Archon within you was when you lost control, my would-be Apprentice. If that is the only circumstance wherein you can demonstrate that level of liberating savagery, and control your instinctive ferocity; you will die quickly and be forgotten in this merciless world. Stop hiding behind the boy you were, and running from whatever memories haunted you in the place before this one.¡±
Leonidas¡¯ eyes widened at her words. She couldn¡¯t know about Elatra, and yet¡
¡°Be the man you are. Use your gifts¡ªall of your gifts¡ªto their true potential.¡± Ceruviel said heedless of his thoughts. ¡°Or you are going to die here, Achilles. That much I can promise you.¡±
With that, the woman released him, and turned to stride away down the tunnel without so much as a ¡®good luck¡¯. Leonidas watched her go with a mixture of trepidation, doubt, confusion, and even some measure of awe¡ªand then Tarnys got his attention by wrapping his knuckles on the black metal of his [Archon¡¯s Psiblade].
¡°Whatever your thoughts on the Dusk-Lord¡¯s methods,¡± Tarnys said when Leonidas turned back to him in surprise, ¡°and confronting manner of speech, she is correct. You are hiding from something, or the memory of someone, and it is crippling you.¡±
¡°I came into the tunnel ready to do as she said, Tarnys.¡± Leonidas replied with a frustration he felt to his core. ¡°Every time I speak to her, in the three interactions we¡¯ve had, she throws me another head-spinning curveball. I¡¯ve seen war, but I¡¯m less than useless. I have to be focused, but also be ferocious. She tells me to embrace savagery, but to also be controlled. It¡¯s like conceptual whiplash.¡±
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¡°The problem, Leonidas, is that you think they are contradictions.¡± Tarnys said with a sigh, and then glanced at the gate when it began to grind upward slowly. ¡°We have no time, so listen carefully. Controlling your ferocity does not mean discarding your savagery, it means wielding it like your hand wields a sword. Ultimately, Leonidas, all she¡¯s telling you to do is to stop doubting yourself, and just be. You think too much about too many things. Exist in the moment you inhabit, Leonidas. Foresight can come later.¡±
With that Tarnys nodded to him, turned, and hurried away before Leonidas could respond.
¡°Control my ferocity, and wield my savagery?¡± Leonidas asked the air. ¡°God help me, they sound like motivational speakers that get paid too much money.¡±
Still, something in what he¡¯d been told seemed right in a way. He was running, though perhaps not from what Ceruviel or Tarnys thought. He wasn¡¯t running from his own strength, he was trying to not repeat the mistakes that strength had caused: overconfidence, overestimation, and the loss of understanding about how truly fragile lives could actually be.
Miranda¡¯s death had been the first casualty of his arrogance, but it hadn¡¯t been the last, and that did haunt him. It haunted him every day. He¡¯d worked so hard to escape that gnawing guilt, at one point, that he¡¯d veered too much to the extreme¡ªlike a child having a moodswing, he¡¯d become violence manifest during the following year of the war. By time Caricus, of all people, had managed to rein him in; the result had been the failed but expansive coup that had nearly destroyed his Grand Army.
Leonidas had corrected his behavior after that, and other than the final assault against Azrageth, had never let that rage come to the fore again.
At least, not until earlier, when his [Cataclysm Core] had eroded his self-control.
The portcullis finally hit its zenith while he ruminated, and Leonidas strode out into the light of the arena.
When he did, he did a double take, and his train of thought screeched off the rails. The Arena had changed completely. Where before it had been expansive white stone in every direction, now he stood upon a deep sea of sand, with rising and falling dunes dotting the middle third of the arena, and the white-brown grains trailing off toward the entrances into flat and thinner surface area.
¡°What the hell?¡± he asked out loud, only for the Arena Master¡¯s voice to answer him.
¡°{WELL WELL, LADIES AND GENTLEMEN! IT APPEARS THAT THE DUSK-LORD¡¯S CHAMPION WASN¡¯T INFORMED OF THE NEW ENVIRONMENT AFTER ALL! AS YOU CAN SEE, HER BENEVOLENCE¡ªTOWARD OUR LOVELY CITIZENS¡ªKNOWS NO END! SHE EVEN FAILED TO WARN HER OWN SPONSORED GLADIATOR, SO THAT WE CAN BE BETTER ENTERTAINED!}¡±
A roar kicked up from the crowd, and Leonidas realized with a start that there had to be double the amount of people in attendance as compared to his previous match. At least six thousand filled the stands, with more arriving every minute.
¡°{NOW, SHALL WE GET ON WITH THE GOOD PART? LET¡¯S SEE HOW ACHILLES HANDLES¡ THE HIVE TYRANT!}¡±
A wave of ¡®Oohs¡¯ came from the crowd, and Leonidas heard something immense rumble in the distance, near the middle of the arena. Some sort of gate or accessway, perhaps, had been opened¡ªand a moment later, screams and cajoling jeers came from the crowd. He had no idea what they were commenting on, but a moment later, a thunderous SCREE shook the air like it were being emitted by the world¡¯s most pissed off and jacked Cicada.
A feeling of dread filled his gut, and Leonidas cursed under his breath. Of course it was some sort of monster. Of course it was called a fucking Hive Tyrant, and of course the arena had changed very likely specifically to favor the monster. He must have pissed off the Arena Master more than he¡¯d thought by ignoring the rules in his last match.
¡°{AND NOW, WITHOUT FURTHER ADO, LET THE MATCH COMMENCE!}¡±
A crackle of lightning descended from the shield above, and the unknown monster let loose a blood curdling scream when it impacted. A moment later, Leonidas heard something massive thump against the Arena floor, and the crowd cheered in response.
¡°Oh fuck me,¡± he said under his breath in realization, ¡°they just used the equivalent of a god damn cattle prod.¡±
The sand under Leonidas¡¯ feet shuddered, and he glanced behind him.
There was no part of the Arena that was bereft of the sand, and it almost appeared to be rising passively, as if filling in the gaps near the portcullis entrances¡ªthe one he¡¯d come through, in fact, was already halfway buried, and sinking fast.
Talking to himself, as always, helped him focus¡ªand he worked to regain the Battle Meditation he¡¯d lost between Ceruviel¡¯s speech and Tarnys¡¯ piggybacked admonishment. The excitement and adrenaline of a fight, even one that seemed intentionally weighted heavily against him, always seemed to help him find his knife¡¯s edge meditative balance¡ªand this situation was no different.
While his meditation slowly settled into place, he also realized that he was going to need to keep moving to avoid being ambushed easily, and be very careful with his resources until he had a better idea of what in the hells he was dealing with.
That highlighted a critical oversight which Leonidas immediately corrected.
He¡¯d been tracking the loss of his resources in a kind of passive fugue, and understanding what he was losing without visualizing it, the way he had on Elatra.
¡°System,¡± Leonidas said far more calmly than his racing heart should have allowed, and with his eyes sweeping the sand while he carefully made his way forward along it. ¡°I want to configure my HUD as per my Intent.¡±
There was no confirmation window, nor elaborate System message to accompany the request while he swept his eyes across the surrounding sand carefully.
Instead, his Intent was translated to reality, and Leonidas suddenly had what he wanted: a compass in the right corner of his vision, a quartered circle at the central bottom base of his vision for his each of his resources, and a display of his [World Map] at the bottom left of his eyeline. He enabled a currency tracker above his map as well, which showed his 300 remaining Aetherium, and nothing else¡ªfor the moment.
Finally, he brought an ¡®EXP¡¯ bar into existence at the top of his HUD, showing ¡®250 / 4,000¡¯ and a segmented set of rectangles.
A quick flick of intent disabled the HUD and re-enabled it, followed by the disabling and enabling of individual elements; and he nodded in satisfaction.
Being a gamer in a world taken over by a living logic engine had some benefits.
He certainly didn¡¯t want to walk around normally with his vision occluded by so many elements, but the ability to enable and disable them with a flick of his intent was incredibly useful. The advantages of a System-based world were myriad, in some ways, and not taking advantage of the ability to quantify his active state seemed, well, incredibly short-sighted.
With that thought in mind, he knew he needed one more stipulation.
First, he enabled all of his HUD elements with a thought, and then he spoke.
¡°Automatically disable all HUD elements except resources during combat.¡±
Leonidas felt the ripple of acceptance from the System, and his HUD once more was reduced solely to the four-way circle, with a quarter colored for each HUD element and their values displayed in ¡®System¡¯-font text.
First, it worked a treat and let him easily track his resources in a tangible way.
Secondly, it confirmed that he was already in combat, and that meant¡ª
Instinct, experience, and a feeling he couldn¡¯t explain combined together to convince Leonidas to throw himself to the side with every iota of his enhanced Strength, and he rolled along the sand at the same time as his enemy abruptly made its less-than-subtle entrance.
A desert-brown carapaced monster he could only describe as the nightmare combination of a Rhino Beetle, a Scorpion, and a Mantis emerged from the sand in a spray of granules and screeched its rage to the sky. Its stinging tail slammed down where he¡¯d been standing seconds earlier, and the creature smashed two immense, razor-sharp scything pincers into the sand at the same time.
A set of six malicious black eyes stared down at where Leonidas had been, and the creature screeched again in outrage.
Then it turned, and spotted him a moment later.
Leonidas lifted his [Archon¡¯s Psiblade] with narrowed eyes.
In response, the super-arachnid¡¯s beetle-like carapace fluttered in rage.
¡°Come on, you ugly son of a bitch!¡± he roared while stoking the furnace of his [Cataclysm Core].
The Hive Tyrant charged with a trumpeting screech.
B1 | Chapter 20: Arena Combat, Hive Tyrant I
Leonidas braced himself with a low guard when the Hive Tyrant charged, and mentally schooled himself to not flinch away with the immense, fifteen foot tall creature bearing down on him. His warplate¡¯s sabatons seemed firm enough on the sand, which was mercifully compacted, and he waited as long as he dared for the immense monster to close distance¡ªand then dived forward and to the left.
A scything claw whined through the air where he¡¯d been only seconds earlier, and Leonidas came up from his roll with a ruffle of his hair from the overpassing appendage, and the wind force that followed it.
Leonidas attacked immediately when he came up from the combat dive, and sliced his [Archon¡¯s Psiblade] in an arcing upward slash against the second-last of the Arachnid¡¯s six immense bone-like legs on its right side.
When the sword impacted the protective chitin over the limb, it clanged off like the plating were made of stone, and Leonidas cursed under his breath at the vibrating shock of the impact. He¡¯d suspected that the sword wouldn¡¯t penetrate the chitin, but he had needed to be sure.
The Hive Tyrant was already turning by the time his blade ricocheted, and Leonidas chose discretion over valor in that moment.
He ran.
His legs carried him as far away from the Hive Tyrant as possible, as fast as possible. That was no more than perhaps fifteen miles an hour at best, which was already pushing the upper limits of what his effectively unmodified ¡®peak¡¯ human physique could output. On Elatra, 15MPH had been a light jog with his Hero¡¯s body¡ªbut he¡¯d clearly lost those benefits with his transmigration back to post-Incursion Terra.
Behind him, the Hive Tyrant trumpeted its fury to the skies and skittered after him with a tremble of the sand underfoot, its scythe-like pincers snapping together with audible clack-clack sounds of aggravation.
Leonidas chanced a glance over his shoulder, and cursed when he saw the massive arachnid steadily gaining on him. It wasn¡¯t much faster than he was, which was a relief, but it traversed the sand with far greater dexterity. He momentarily wondered how in the hell a creature its size even remained above the sea of granules, but shelved the thought almost in the same moment.
He could analyze the physics of it after he avoided becoming lunch.
The crowd in the Arena above was screaming in approval of the match, with a fair few ¡®boo¡¯ noises mixed in for his running, and Leonidas almost laughed in derision.
Were it not for his Battle Meditation, the ambient noise might have distracted him. As it was, he was already trying to balance the growing force of his [Cataclysm Core] with his awareness of its effects, and the Battle Meditation steadying his mind.
Leonidas glanced to his right toward the ascending plane of the nearby sand dune, and then to his left toward a slight decline and consistently flatter plane of sand. In theory, the left was the best option¡ªbut that was a trap, he knew immediately. It seemed like the easier locale to fight in, but he¡¯d be trapping himself against the arena wall eventually, and at that point he¡¯d be no more capable of surviving than the goblin that had tried to flee to the portcullis.
Instead, he veered sharply to the right and with a thought, he did something perhaps slightly insane: he sprinted for the top of the dune with every iota of his strength and agility, and prepared to jump.
The moment he crested the sandy rise, and just before the Hive Tyrant could catch him; Leonidas launched himself off of the top of the dune and wind milled his arms at the surprising seconds of subsequent air time that his strengthened limbs granted him.
He hit the dune a quarter of the way down from its top, and the metal of his plate created a kind of light-friction slide not unlike a body-encasing toboggan.
The Hive Tyrant crossed the top of the dune behind him with a screech of fury at finding him gone, and Leonidas glanced back to see its scorpion-tail stinger waving in the air with agitation while he slid the fifteen feet down toward the base of the sand dune.
The size of the sand dune was shocking enough, and when he hit the bottom and found densely compacted sand beneath his feet, he thanked the System for its small mercies. The Hive Tyrant was already skitter-sliding down the dune behind him, and Leonidas sprinted forward until he gained a dozen or so feet on the creature, and then spun around to face it.
This time, he activated [Psikinetic Blade] and layered it over his sword.
His Psi dropped by 15 points immediately, and this time he could see the passive drain that followed immediately on its heels. Perhaps one point every three seconds or so. That gave him thirty seconds of usage before his Psi ran dry.
The psiforce swordforce¡ªhe really needed a better name for it¡ªshimmered into existence with a ripple of air-warping visuals, and he took the humming [Archon¡¯s Psiblade] in a two-handed grip at his side, with its tip pointed to the ground and behind him in what many might call a Samurai stance.
The stance settled him into an enhanced feeling of familiar focus, and the remembered discipline from hours of training for exactly moments of high-pressure and adrenal overflow like the one he was in. The [Cataclysm Core] in his body was boiling with the fury of a volcano within his solar plexus, and he could feel an almost palpable heat radiating out across him where its energy steadily proliferated throughout his body.
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With the acquisition of his Mana Sage title and its passive increase to his mana pool, the energy of his Core¡ªwhich aspected his mana when it was unleashed¡ªwas even stronger and denser than the last time it had run rampant. It filled him with a primal and savage level of buoyed power, and Leonidas could feel it singing to be used. It was a siren song calling for him to surrender to its primordial hunger to consume, obliterate, and burn away everything in its path¡ªand his path, by extension.
This time, however, it was something he was ready for; and the inherent need to destroy was tempered by the iron willed focus of his Battle Meditation. He breathed while he watched the Hive Tyrant, now reaching the bottom of the dune, regard him with each of its malevolent black eyes. Its maw, a drooling mess of serrated teeth and two clicking mandibles, released a low chitter of malignant intellect and it snapped its pincers together menacingly.
Leonidas didn¡¯t react to its primitive taunting, and instead let his experience and focus settle on him like a mentally grounding cloak of forced calm. His limbs faintly trembled with the need to move that came from his Cataclysm Mana¡¯s surging fury, and his fingers tightened on the hilt of his [Archon¡¯s Psiblade] while he continued to take steady, and measured breaths in and out.
When the Hive Tyrant finally started to advance, first cautiously and then with renewed vigor and fury, Leonidas narrowed his eyes in focus and took a hold of the Cataclysm Mana flowing through his body. With a mix of disciplined focus, remembered mana control from his time on Elatra, and sheer force of will; Leonidas wrested control of his Core¡¯s energy and forced it into the gems of his blade.
The moment he did, the swordforce around the blade¡¯s edges ignited with arcing flashes of scarlet lightning, and he felt the drain on his Psi slow to half of its previous amount. Instead, his mana started to drain alongside it, and the two resources seemed to share the burden of his swordforce.
The [Archon¡¯s Psiblade] in his hands shook with the power of the [Cataclysm Core] surging through it, and he mentally felt the synergy of the sword ratchet up by several percentage points instantly. The Hive Tyrant continued to close, now just over a dozen feet away, and Leonidas bent his knees to stabilize his stance as much as possible.
He breathed out, and a memory came to him while he focused.
¡°Swordforce is just the ghost of power, Leonidas. It isn¡¯t the secret to the Hero¡¯s strength, it¡¯s just a tool that allows you to bring it out.¡±
¡°Then what¡¯s the secret?¡± he¡¯d asked, after wiping the sweat from his brow after another round of duels.
¡°The Sword Arts,¡± Miranda had said from where she stood, arms folded under her breasts and eyes locked on him with calculating intensity. ¡°Swordforce and Sword Arts. Those, Leonidas, are what take a good warrior, and make them terrifying.¡±
¡°And only the Hero can learn them?¡±
¡°Perhaps,¡± she¡¯d said with the ghost of a smile. ¡°If you can handle the training.¡±
Leonidas¡¯ lips quirked into a smile, and he breathed out slowly when the Hive Tyrant crossed within eight feet of being in range with its pincers.
¡°Second Sword Art¡¡± he began with ritualistic adherence to ancient protocol, and a remembered discipline that sharpened his focus like a razor.
The Hive Tyrant¡¯s right claw raised to swipe at him.
¡°...Shatter the Earth!¡±
The Hive Tyrant¡¯s pincer descended.
Leonidas smoothly stepped to the left of the descending claw, and sliced his psiblade upward with a scream of motion and blistering crackle of scarlet lightning. His weapon¡¯s psiforce-enhanced edge met the claw¡¯s thick outer half when it passed by and the energy of his swordforce first sheared through the chitin like paper, and then with a sound like a high-pitched whine of sudden pressure; caused it to detonate in a thunderous BOOM.
Leonidas barely managed to shield his face with his arms before he was blown off his feet by an explosion of chitinous shell, flesh, and viscera¡ªand the Hive Tyrant screamed in agony and reared backward in shock while Leonidas was sent rolling across the sand with a chain of expletives. His sword had been blasted from his grip, and he heard a high-pitched ringing in his ears.
A glance at his HUD told him he¡¯d lost 18 points of Health, and Leonidas rolled onto his back with a groan. His eyes searched for the Hive Tyrant while he forced himself up onto his elbows, and he saw the creature screeching¡ªmuted to his damaged eardrums, which he loosely realized had been overtaxed¡ªwhile frantically waving its grotesquely deformed remnant of a pincer in the air.
Leonidas¡¯ eyes widened, and he realized why the Hive Tyrant was still screeching. Its claw was not simply damaged, it was actively being devoured by a layer of blood-red flames and crackles of lightning that were catalyzing further explosions across its limb.
A glance at his mana confirmed it was still draining, and the realization rocked him. He was actively damaging the Hive Tyrant without even realizing it.
While he watched, the Hive Tyrant reared up and, in an act of desperation, sliced off its own limb to stop the spread of what Leonidas recognized as rampant Cataclysm Mana. The moment it did, and the limb fell away; the energy devouring it seemed to detect that it was no longer connected to a life force and simply vanished.
Leonidas slowly pushed himself to his feet, and with a wince for his wounded head, glanced down at his [Archon¡¯s Warplate]. His entire breastplate had been scorched along its surface, and subtle cracks had appeared where he assumed chitin had impacted the metal. Had he not been wearing armor, the claw¡¯s detonation would likely have had the same effect as a fragmentation grenade.
His eyes turned back to the arachnid and, while fully aware of the fact he probably had facial injuries, he extended his hand to the side and¡ªwith a further expenditure of 15 Mana¡ªsummoned his [Archon¡¯s Psiblade] in a flash of red lightning.
Leonidas took a steadying breath, and focused on regaining his Battle Meditation. While he did, he let his mana regeneration take care of itself, and kept an awareness on his slowly recovering Psi as well. Around him, the Arena was going mad with cheers, but he ignored them even when his hearing started to return.
He had no time for them.
Leonidas¡¯ eyes narrowed on the Hive Tyrant, and then he turned and promptly started to put more distance between himself and the arachnid while it was distracted; pushing his body as fast as it would go toward the next dune. The same trick wouldn¡¯t work twice, and he needed time to think of what his next move was. He knew the creature wouldn¡¯t give him long to plan, but at least he¡¯d confirmed some critical information: he had a weapon, at least, that could not only hurt it¡ªbut slay it, and that only meant one thing.
He had a bug to kill.
B1 | Chapter 21: Arena Combat, Hive Tyrant II
Leonidas, after crossing over the rising mass of the nearest sand dune and sliding down its surface as he had previously, took a momentary respite behind its rising expanse. Its silhouette cast a long shadow in the morning light, and he scouted out the darkest area beneath it for partial concealment, with an alert awareness of his surroundings at the same time.
His time on Elatra had given him the instincts and training to have passive awareness of his surroundings, and he applied that training right then in order to find some measure of momentary reprieve.
The adrenaline surging through his veins was sourced from a mixed composition of fear, exhilaration, and a primal satisfaction at the damage he had inflicted on the Hive Tyrant¡ªand it helped keep him aware, and able to ignore his injuries. More than that, he felt himself growing both excited and worried over the level of destruction energy his [Cataclysm Core] had unleashed.
Something told him that what he¡¯d done, and how he¡¯d wounded the Hive Tyrant, shouldn¡¯t have been possible. He had likely done something well beyond the bounds of what was expected, and judging from the screaming crowd, they were loving every minute of it.
He was far less enthralled by what was going on.
In fact, the entire arena match seemed suspect.
The Hive Tyrant was, by his estimation, far too powerful for someone at Novice rank to be able to reasonably defeat. He had the nagging feeling he¡¯d been set up for failure, and he still hadn¡¯t seen the other opponents Ceruviel had warned him would appear. He didn¡¯t suspect the Dusk-Lord¡¯s hand in the matter, because she had seemed less than thrilled about his change of match-up.
Even attempting to peruse information in his [Codex] gave him nothing.
All he could do, then, was make educated deductions.
The term ¡®Tyrant¡¯ implied his current foe controlled or ruled over others of its ilk, and the thought of more of them appearing was both chilling and exhausting to even consider. It was a possibility he had to acknowledge, though, and be prepared for.
The Arachnid, though wounded, was a formidable adversary, and its survival instincts had clearly been honed by harsh battles. The wherewithal to cut off its own limb, regardless of any insect or animal¡¯s natural opposition¡ªin most cases¡ªto such an extreme action spoke volumes about the Hive Tyrant¡¯s intellect.
It also implied, whether likely or not, that it could potentially regenerate limbs like some insects or reptiles could. It would explain its willingness to sever its own pincer so readily.
Leonidas reached up distractedly and wiped the mix of sweat, sand, and blood from his face while his mind raced through options.
The creature''s agility and brute force were empirical advantages he couldn¡¯t hope to overcome conventionally, but its recent injury provided Leonidas with a critical insight into its vulnerabilities. The explosive and corrosive effects of his last attack had clearly taken the Hive Tyrant by surprise, and while he knew that it would be instinctively or even actively¡ªgiven its malicious intellect¡ªwary of a repeat of the same, he intended on taking advantage of that identified weakness regardless.
First, however, his Health, Mana, and Psi would need to regenerate enough to allow him to prosecute any kind of offensive, and while they did, he could also enjoy the¡ª
¡°Fuck,¡± he cursed softly under his breath.
His Health hadn¡¯t moved.
For all that his Psi and Mana, and especially his Stamina, seemed to regenerate at something approaching a reliable pace; his Health wasn¡¯t moving an iota. In fact, it seemed to have dropped another point in the time since he¡¯d descended the dune.
That was bad.
That was very bad.
Leonidas¡¯ eyes swept the expanse of the area again, and with only one more moment¡¯s hesitation, he started out across the sand at a steady jog. Discomfort, soreness, and overall tightness in his limbs from his exhaustive efforts assailed him¡ªbut Leonidas ignored them, and instead brought up the [Aetherium Store] window with a whispered ¡°Open the Store, and skip all confirmations¡± and firm projection of Intent.
The moment he did, he didn¡¯t even bother looking over anything he was offered other than the blazing red [Health Potion] shining tauntingly on the projected screen. The only other options were more potions and what appeared to be wearable accessories, and he didn¡¯t have time to screw around with the latter. He¡¯d assess them when things weren¡¯t so immediately desperate. The Tyrant might emerge atop the dune at any second, and he had to be ready.
Leonidas tapped the potion with that thought in mind, and then tapped the [1] option when quantity was raised as a variable.
A moment later he swiped away the screen, and with a flash of golden light the [Health Potion] appeared in his free left hand, since his right still gripped his damaged [Archon¡¯s Psiblade] tightly. He wouldn¡¯t lose the sword a second time. He couldn¡¯t afford to, summonable weapon or not.
The lights of the delivery, however, were a problem.
The crowd screamed their reaction to his purchase, and he ignored them.
¡°Jesus Christ,¡± he growled under his breath, and thanked his lucky stars it was the middle of the day. He hadn¡¯t seen carapace nor claw of the Hive Tyrant yet, despite knowing it had been following him, but that didn¡¯t mean he was wanting to advertise his presence to the world.
With another wary glance around him, Leonidas pulled the cork from the [Health Potion] and promptly tipped it back down his throat. It tasted like chocolate, vanilla, pizza, cookie dough, buttery popcorn, medium-rare steak, sirloin, venison, spicy chicken, and a dozen other delicious things all at once¡ªand with none of the contradiction simultaneous tasting would normally cause.
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It was delicious.
The moment he swallowed the last drop, the bottle and cork vanished instantly, and Leonidas felt a powerful flush of heat suffusing him from within his stomach, which promptly outward at a rapid pace.
A dull pop echoed from his pained left side, and a wave of tension and discomfort vanished when it did. His stride corrected itself where it had been slightly demented, and he felt himself jogging more cleanly.
His stamina consumption dropped as well.
Subtle cracks, and small echoes of other corrected pieces of anatomy he¡¯d rather not think on too deeply, emanated softly from his body; and when Leonidas glanced at his HUD, he saw his Health gradient refilling rapidly.
The moment it filled completely, he rolled his arms experimentally while continuing his light jog. He felt lighter, and fully whole once more. Every ache, pain, bruise, and feeling of soreness had left his limbs¡ªand he anatomically felt like he¡¯d just walked out into the arena for the first time, again.
The downside, however, was that his physical and mental weariness had not vanished¡ªand now, he felt a distinct growl of hunger that had grown suddenly from a vague awareness that he wanted food to a sudden, near-apocalyptic gurgle of dissatisfaction.
¡°It¡¯s my metabolism,¡± Leonidas realized immediately, and then shook his head wryly. He¡¯d heard about the same thing happening on Elatra, usually after someone was healed, but it wasn¡¯t something he¡¯d ever experienced personally with any measure of referrable intensity. His Hero¡¯s constitution had recovered from wounds with alarming, and superhuman levels of speed.
It was strangely nice to be suffering from the same drawbacks as others.
It made him feel somewhat more grounded, in many ways, though he knew¡ª
Instinct, and a flash of awareness lanced through his mind and Leonidas threw himself into a diving roll to his left.
In the place he¡¯d been only seconds earlier, the Hive Tyrant¡¯s nightmare jaws snapped shut, and it screeched in outrage at being denied the kill. Its tail thrashed up through the sand, and its once good pincer snapped at him from out of range¡ªalmost like its own version of a middle finger. Leonidas¡¯ eyes narrowed when he looked back at the creature¡¯s eyes, and its beady black gaze met his own with animal cunning.
¡°Of course you can fucking swim in the sand,¡± he snarled angrily.
Of course it could, and of course he hadn¡¯t thought of that eventuality. The thing was the nightmare child of a Rhino Beetle, Scorpion, and Praying Mantis; of course it could use the sand like whales used water. Why not? That just made perfect god damned sense.
Leonidas raised his blade angrily in preparation, and assumed a level stance.
¡°Come on then!¡± he growled at it angrily, and while preparing to use his partially recovered Psi and Mana for another combination swordforce.
Instead of attacking, however, the Hive Tyrant chittered at him almost as if mocking him or in amusement, and then skittered up to the surface of the sand fully¡ªonly to launch itself upward and, with a nightmare undulation of its body, dive back beneath the surface with a writhing slither.
¡°Okay.¡± Leonidas said in a nonplussed voice. ¡°That¡¯s going to be a problem.¡±
He didn¡¯t wait to be surprised again and instead turned, and started sprinting for all that he was worth toward the nearest towering sand dune. The fact he couldn¡¯t even feel vibrations, shakes, or anything approaching tremors told him that the sand was far deeper than he¡¯d imagined, and he couldn¡¯t rely on regular senses to track the¡ª
¡°Ah,¡± Tarnys had said after a moment of clear confusion, which had melted quickly into understanding. ¡°You awakened your Psionic Focus.¡±
¡°My what?¡± Leonidas had asked immediately upon recognizing the name of his Skill.
¡°Your Psionic Focus. It¡¯s a passive skill that allows you to identify the presence of people you¡¯ve had time to, for lack of a better word, attune to.¡± Tarnys had explained simply. ¡°From what I understand, it¡¯s like a form of extreme spatial awareness. When you get stronger, it becomes sort of like what you Terrans call ¡®active radar¡¯, if my memory is correct.¡±
Leonidas¡¯s lips twisted into a grim smile when the memory flashed through his mind, and he immediately tapped into his [Psionic Focus] with a flash of Intent. The moment he did, he thought back to the Hive Tyrant, and tried to sense for its mind. He tried to think of its menace, its aura, its predatory excellence, and its loathing for him. He tried to picture its malice, its apex ferocity, and the way it even then stalked and hunted him like a nemesis it sought to conquer.
Despite his best efforts, he failed.
The Hive Tyrant¡¯s attack was foiled only by the subtle ping on his [Psionic Focus] two seconds before it emerged, and even then, Leonidas only managed to dodge it by pure luck. The pincers it swung were still one short, and he had dived for the side that no longer had a claw when it emerged.
The sudden displacement of mass in the sand caused a momentary sinkhole to form, and Leonidas furiously scrambled away from being pulled into the wannabe-sarlacc pit while crawl-rolling himself away. When he did, he heard and felt a THUD of impact, and glanced back to see the Hive Tyrant¡¯s bulbous stinger rising for another strike.
When it descended again, he threw up his left hand and poured his Psi into his [Psikinetic Shield] on instinct.
The stinger impacted the air an inch from his extended palm and stopped dead.
Both the Tyrant and Leonidas stared at the immobile stinger for a moment in disbelief, and then they both looked back to one another.
Leonidas smirked.
The Hive Tyrant shrieked in rage, and charged toward him.
Leonidas stopped smirking.
The Hive Tyrant¡¯s skittering gait was no less heavy despite its dextrous motion over the sand, and it allowed Leonidas time to throw himself clear of its next stabbing strike while staggering to his feet on the disturbed area of sand, and desperately shoving himself into a run.
Another strike of its tail came from above, and Leonidas veered hard to the right to stay on the creature¡¯s wounded side, and away from the hale and healthy claw on its strong left. The Hive Tyrant shrieked again in outrage at his continued existence, and Leonidas didn¡¯t waste the chance it was giving him. His Psi had been depleted by a full 15 points from the Tyrant¡¯s attack, but it had also regenerated enough that he could more or less weather the loss.
His [Psionic Focus] flared to life, and Leonidas took full advantage to try to hone in on the nightmare Arachnid¡¯s mind while it did its very best to skewer him.
It did mean, however, that he also needed to buy a [Psi Potion].
A risky glance over his shoulder was followed by a hearty ¡°Fuck!¡± with every ounce of his frustration and adrenaline-fuelled fear, and Leonidas leaped to the left to dodge another strike of the creature¡¯s stinger. He came up from the combat roll with stumbling steps, but managed to throw himself back into a sprint¡ªwith an eye for his slowly depleting stamina¡ªand away from the Hive Tyrant once more.
Leonidas had been hoping to avoid dumping his Aetherium on potions during his arena combat, especially given how valuable the currency was based on what he¡¯d been told and experienced first hand, but he was rapidly realizing he wouldn¡¯t have a choice if he wanted to survive.
His regeneration was just too slow, and his expenditure was too high.
The Hive Tyrant finally released another trumpeting bellow of rage, and with a sound of erupting sand, dived back beneath the surface.
When it did, Leonidas suddenly realized something, and glanced backward and then straight down.
His gambit had worked.
He could sense it in the sand beneath him.
Without hesitation, he turned and sprinted away, and pulled up the store as he did.
The next time they met, he promised himself, would be the endgame.
One way or another, the match was going to end.
B1 | Chapter 22: Arena Combat, Hive Tyrant III
Leonidas, now armed with the advantage of his [Psionic Focus], put distance between himself and the Hive Tyrant. The creature had become more wary of him, it seemed, following its failed ambushes¡ªand for all that it was definitely still stalking him, it appeared to be biding its time.
Why, he didn¡¯t know.
But he wasn¡¯t going to fail to take advantage.
His Psi was steadily declining with his [Psionic Focus] locked on the Hive Tyrant, and he did notice that it seemed to bleed away faster based on how far away he traveled from the submerged monster. Tarnys had said that the ability was like ¡®active radar¡¯ at higher levels, which meant that at his current state of strength, the Skill was more like a targeted tracking beacon.
He equated the Psi-drain, through that context, as battery life.
The further away the Tyrant was, the more battery his tracker drained.
With a mix of wariness and curiosity, Leonidas pushed his Intent toward the ability and tried to mentally configure it less like an active tracker, and more of a passive ping system. Instead of constantly marking the position of the Hive Tyrant, it could instead refresh the creature¡¯s position every ten seconds, or each time that it moved closer to him by more than ten feet.
When he did so, he opened his map ¡®widget¡¯¡ªhe smirked at his own joke¡ªin his HUD, and noted with pleasure that the Tyrant did appear on the ¡®mini-map¡¯, and that each time his [Psionic Focus] pinged, it caused the Tyrant¡¯s labeled red icon to flash back into existence with a small range-reading under it which he understood without needing to actively read.
¡°Neat,¡± he said to himself while continuing his steady jog away from the creature. He hadn¡¯t heard the announcer the entire match, he realized as he moved. The Arena Master had been silent ever since the initial confirmation of the bout¡ªand he suddenly wondered at why. It wasn¡¯t a thought that he had time to investigate, of course, but it certainly was curious.
His [Psionic Focus] warned him, and Leonidas changed direction.
Every time the Tyrant changed direction, Leonidas adjusted his own to maintain and grow distance, and each time he did it seemed to frustrate the Tyrant to some extent. The pings showed the occasional surge of motion where the arachnid, which was only separated from him by about eight feet of sand at any given moment, surged to catch up and then subsided once more.
Again, Leonidas couldn¡¯t quite understand why, but there were only three possibilities: either the Tyrant was waiting for its claw to regenerate, which he thought was unlikely for several reasons, or it was waiting for him to grow too exhausted to run, which was also unlikely. The third possibility, and the one he most hated, was that it was waiting for backup.
And that, of course, was why Leonidas was opening the [Aetherium Store].
Other than the [Psi Potion] he needed, he¡¯d also seen accessories on offer during his more frantic flight from the Tyrant earlier, and he needed to assess what it was about them that the store believed was so useful to him.
Aetherium Store
Welcome to the [Aetherium Store], Leonidas! An ideal selection of items has been curated for your perusal, based on your Intent! Special consideration has been given for your Core.
Psionic Amplifier (Helm)
[Quality]: Rare
[Price]: 80 Aetherium
[Requirement]: Level 1-10 Psionic Class
[Effects]: Amplifies Psi Skills by 25%
Spatial Storage Ring
[Quality]: Rare
[Price]: 80 Aetherium
[Requirement]: Level 1+
[Effects]: Can store up to 150 Kilograms
Health Potion
[Quality]: Uncommon
[Price]: 15 Aetherium
[Requirement]: Level 1-20
[Effects]: Restores 20 Health on use
Mana Potion
[Quality]: Uncommon
[Price]: 15 Aetherium
[Requirement]: Level 1-20
[Effects]: Restores 20 Mana on use
Psi Potion
[Quality]: Uncommon
[Price]: 35 Aetherium
[Requirement]: Level 1-20
[Effects]: Restores 15 Psi on use
Leonidas stared at the Store screen for several long moments, and then cursed emphatically. Two seconds. It would have taken two seconds to actually pay attention to what it was offering during his mad dash from the Hive Tyrant, and he¡¯d have seen both of the items that were immensely useful to him. With the Spatial Storage, he could easily put away potions for later use¡ªand the Psionic Amplifier wasn¡¯t even a question.
A flat 25% increase to his Psi skills across the board? That was incredible.
Not to mention the fact it apparently served as a helmet, or perhaps could be melded to his existing one¡ªthough that seemed more like a question for Ceruviel, and only after he managed to survive the Hive Tyrant.
Besides, he¡¯d had a storage ring on Elatra, and he could guess at how the one from the [Aetherium Store] functioned, if Elatra had been an [Integration Trial].
¡°Has to be the same¡¡± he muttered while focusing on his enemy again.
Leonidas took note of the Hive Tyrant¡¯s position and relative distance, then veered to the north while putting on a burst of speed. His new pace rapidly drained his Stamina, but it was necessary in order to evade the arachnid¡¯s ¡®swimming¡¯ approach.
Once he had gained a measure of distance on the Tyrant, he quickly selected the [Spatial Storage Ring], [Psionic Amplifier], and one [Psi Potion].
¡°Deliver the items immediately,¡± he stated while hitting the confirmation, and projecting firm Intent to skip the packaging. The moment the confirmation was accepted, he came to an immediate and wary halt, and stabbed his sword into the sand. Almost immediately, he extended out both hands, and received the Amplifier, Ring, and Potion the second his palms opened.
The trio appeared in a stealth-destroying flare of golden light, and a quick manual pulse of his [Psionic Focus] told him that he had bought himself some time. The Tyrant had seemingly detected his sudden distance, and was beelining for him, but at a more sedate and wary pace¡ªlikely due to suspicion. How the creature could track, sense, and note his movements through the sand were another matter entirely, but Leonidas doubted he¡¯d have been able to do anything even if he knew.
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The trio of items was relatively simple: the [Psi Potion] was a flask of shimmering, bubbling magenta-purple liquid that looked like distilled grape soda mixed with fairy lights, and made him thirsty for creaming soda just looking at it. The [Spatial Storage Ring], meanwhile, was a thick and rounded band of silver metal with shimmering blue sigils inset to diamond-shaped cuts in the ring, and worked around its length. It looked like stone as much as metal, due to its sheer thickness, but that was par for the course for such items.
The [Psionic Amplifier], meanwhile, was the most unassuming of the three: a simple dark circlet of metal, inset with a single amethyst at its center-forward prong, and lacking in ostentation. It looked like the crown of a humble prince, and Leonidas had to believe it was designed to be masculine. A brief thought of him wearing a tiara flittered through his mind, and then he firmly dispelled it. The ''Helm'' designation had him wondering, though, whether or not it was a replacement for his helmet, or something that would fuse with it. He''d have to investigate that, though, after the match.
The most present issue of course was the Hive Tyrant''s ability to appear at speed, and so Leonidas knew he had no time to waste trying to deduce whether or not he could fuse the [Psionic Amplifier] with his [Archon¡¯s Warplate] at that moment. He was, for all his practical experience, definitely lacking in terms of abilities that could intercede with the creature¡¯s tracking of him in any meaningful way¡ªand that meant he had to do everything fast. Perhaps when his Psi mastery grew, but that was for the future. In the immediate moment, Leonidas looked down at his right hand and, after only a momentary hesitation, tested sliding the [Spatial Storage Ring] onto his right forefinger.
For a second the ring seemed to vibrate, and then it dutifully expanded exactly enough to fit over the armor, and slid snugly down toward his knuckle.
Leonidas grinned in relief at the adjustment. It worked just as he remembered.
¡°Now for you,¡± he said to the [Psionic Amplifier] and, without waiting, firmly plopped it onto his head. The moment he did, the Amethyst inset onto the front of the circlet flared to life, and Leonidas felt a shiver of power roll through him¡ªright down to where his Psi Affinity lurked in his [Cataclysm Core]. The only way he could describe what happened next was that, in the instant he put on the crown; the Psi in his body grew more dense.
A sense of power vibrated through his mind, and he felt the detection power of his [Psionic Focus] sharpen and hone in with an immediate improvement to its performance. More than that, he felt like he could control Psi more easily, as well, and that it would answer his call at a denser and more poignant rate than it had previously. All of these things were, in a way, largely self-explanatory¡ªbut there was a difference between logically understanding the impact of the Amplifier, and feeling it for himself.
It felt like he¡¯d been walking with weights on his Affinity¡¯s manifestation, and some of them had finally been removed. He felt freer, and far more lethal.
More than that, his [Archon¡¯s Warplate] seemed to be slightly denser and more form-fitting on his body, and with a start, he realized that his Synergy with it had increased by a full 5 percent.
A warning ping echoed through his improved [Psionic Focus], and Leonidas immediately channeled a sliver of mana into his storage ring, which he then used to deposit the [Psi Potion]. He didn¡¯t want to use the potion until the exact moment before his fight, lest he burn through the resource again prior to the engagement.
With his new tracker, after all; the Hive Tyrant couldn¡¯t surprise him anymore.
Leonidas extended his hand to grip his [Archon¡¯s Psiblade] and draw it from the sand, and when he did the weapon hummed approvingly in his hand, as if sensing the [Psionic Amplifier]¡¯s presence.
¡°Time to find a place to make my stand,¡± he said while searching his immediate vicinity, and finally letting his eyes rest on a large dune to the west, back toward where he¡¯d originally entered the arena from the Sunset District. Leonidas¡¯ mental marker for the Hive Tyrant told him the Arachnid was approaching from exactly that direction, and that dispelled all hesitation from his mind.
The creature had been in control the entire match.
It was time to even the score.
* * * * *
The prey was rapidly on the move.
It could sense the little adversary¡¯s motion, like ripples through the Great Warm tickling its honed senses. So clumsy. So heavy. Its movements were like echoing drums to the Hive Tyrant¡¯s enhanced senses, and it gnashed its teeth while following its sensory awareness toward the prey. The little adversary had wounded it, and forced it to dispense of a part of its whole. It had been pain, indeed, that had driven the Tyrant to the act of desperation¡ªbut such was its necessity when hunting. It had survived far worse than the little adversary, and would survive far worse besides.
This gnat would die. It had to die. The two-leg in strange black shell had harmed it in a way very few other two-legs had ever managed, and the Tyrant could never forgive such a slight. Almost it pitied the two-leg, if not for the fact it had offended the Tyrant¡¯s greatness. All were either predator or prey, and the prey had bared its single fang and sought to challenge the Tyrant¡¯s scything claws.
Oh it had to die. It had to die, die, die.
The Tyrant felt a sudden shift in the prey¡¯s disposition, and it took a wide arc around where the ripple had sourced. The little adversary had stopped, but for what purpose?
The Tyrant could not understand its choice, either. The shadow of one of the Great Warm¡¯s mighty expansions, rising like a hilltop upon the granular surface. Why had the little adversary stopped where the Tyrant was strongest? Unless¡
Something approaching amusement thrilled through the Tyrant¡¯s monstrous mind, and it chittered to itself in the security of the Great Warm¡¯s darkness. The little adversary had to be exhausted, it realized. It did not know why the two-leg had not succumbed to its wounds already, but the Tyrant knew that it suffered.
The mighty beast had smelled the blood, so sweet, so bitter, on the two-legs¡¯ body.
Oh its beautiful appendage had failed to pierce, to stab, to rend, to envenom the two-leg and its wicked black carapace, but it had scented the blood nonetheless. Like all animals, it knew that the two-leg would wear down with such injuries. It reeked of its own wounding, and had damaged its thorax and its head. Its little, ugly eyes had looked with appropriate shock upon the Tyrant¡¯s six dark orbs of magnificence, and the creature had likely realized its doom.
The Tyrant shivered along its length in anticipation.
The prey would be in its maw soon enough.
The glorious tail upon its elongated form swirled and snapped through the Great Warm, and the Tyrant propelled itself forward with its perfect legs and sole remaining pincer. The remembered pain of its last loss filled it with hate, and filled it with an echo of fear, and the Tyrant¡¯s hate only grew further as a result. Oh, how dare the two-leg make it¡ªthe great one¡ªfeel such intimidation. It would suffer. It had to suffer.
The two-leg had not moved from its position. It must have been truly weak.
The Tyrant knew that the heat, and the Great Warm itself, was anathema to two-legs. It remembered hunting and killing many, in the time before it had been trapped in the accursed Pit.
No matter. It would feed again this day.
The Tyrant¡¯s speed ratcheted up, and as it approached the two-leg, it veered toward the mighty expansion. The rising sandwall loomed to its senses, and the Tyrant slithered up toward it. It would use the great expansion, and it would launch an assault on the prey from above. It would leave no room for error.
The time had come for a reckoning, and the Tyrant would have its due.
Its jaws snapped together in anticipation.
Oh yes, it would have its due.
* * * * *
Leonidas braced himself when the Hive Tyrant ascended up like a homing missile through the sand, and kept perfectly still when the creature rapidly accelerated toward the towering sand dune. His hands, wrapped around the hilt of his sword, were poised with the psiblade held to his right with the crossguard perpendicular to his shoulder, and the blade pointed to the sky.
His weapon¡¯s scarlet edges were warped with the power of his psiforce, and his Cataclysm Mana churned within his body. Destruction, rage, and primordial force screamed at him to be used¡ªand Leonidas ignored it.
He corralled it, contained it, and continued to draw it.
He held it in a tentative vise, balanced on the edge of plausibility, and waited for the exact moment to use it. It would need to be perfect, he knew. If the Tyrant sensed or saw what he had done, it would immediately seek to evade or disengage. It was not a stupid creature, after all, and Leonidas had seen the malignant cunning lurking in its grotesque black eyes when it had looked at him.
The laugh it had given, when he had tried to taunt it, had said enough.
No, he needed to be careful. He needed to time his attack just right.
When the Tyrant reached the zenith of its surging motion, Leonidas snapped his gaze upward and narrowed his eyes in focus. His Psi was down to less than 10 points. He only had one chance to pull off what he wanted to attempt.
His awareness of the Tyrant suddenly blazed.
The arachnid exploded out of the dune like a monstrously immense pouncing mantis, its one good scythe-pincer extended, fetid jaws agape, and chitinous spike-like legs angled toward him as if it wished to wrap him in an embrace.
Leonidas let out a slow breath.
His Battle Meditation kept him focused.
The Cataclysm Mana in his veins screamed.
The Tyrant was high enough for its shadow to throw him into darkness.
Leonidas waited, just long enough for the Tyrant to be wholly committed to its leap.
Then he exploded into motion.
Leonidas dodged the Hive Tyrant¡¯s pounce by bare inches, and when it landed in a skidding heap, he threw himself toward it. The creature¡¯s tail swiped at him, and Leonidas ignored it as surely as he had targeted his movement to come around on the right side¡ªthe injured side¡ªof the creature¡¯s body. He had planned for several scenarios, and only in his best case had the Hive Tyrant been arrogant enough to launch itself at him from the Dune.
The Cataclysm Mana under his control sang in his veins with the force of a restrained tsunami, and Leonidas rolled under the thunderous BOOM of the Tyrant¡¯s stabbing stinger while still closing distance.
The creature continued to try to orient itself, after disorienting its own balance with the overzealous launch, and Leonidas took advantage of the chaotic dispersion of sand and mutual blindness to leap forward and¡ªguided by his [Psionic Focus]¡ªslice clean through one of the Tyrant¡¯s legs.
The creature screeched in blood-curdling agony, and Leonidas was already moving. Another thunderous and violent impact of its tail shook the sand near his feet, but he relied entirely on the guidance of his mental awareness, and dodged backward away from the stinger¡¯s next assault.
When he did, Leonidas ducked under another haphazard swing of the creature¡¯s scythe-like pincer, and cut his sword upward toward its left-hand-side middle leg. The limb separated with a spray of viscera and gore, and Leonidas rolled away from a pincer back-sweep with a mix of his mental focus, battle meditation, and simple wartime experience.
When the Hive Tyrant finally had enough, and Leonidas felt what he translated as a mental scream of fear, he charged toward it before it could get away.
The Tyrant reared back when Leonidas approached, and released what he could only call a bugle-like trumpeting bellow into the air. The time it took to do so, however, was exactly the time he¡¯d needed.
With every iota of his Strength Attribute in play, Leonidas leaped upward and oriented his psiblade to slam its psiforce-wrapped blade-proper into the raised right flank of the immense arachnid.
The moment he felt the [Archon¡¯s Psiblade] sink down to the hilt, Leonidas squeezed his eyes shut in preparation.
¡°First Sword Art,¡± he roared while flooding Cataclysm Mana into his blade in a tide of destruction, ¡°Requiem of the Tempest!¡±
The power of the natural disasters for which he had been named surged into the psiblade with unmitigated force, and Leonidas emptied two thirds of his mana pool into the action. He felt as much as saw the drop in his resources, and the psiblade in his grip blistered with heat the moment he let the tide go.
But that, of course, was nothing compared to what happened next.
Leonidas let go of the sword at the same time as the Cataclysm Mana met the internal matter of the immense Hive Tyrant, and like fire meeting a coagulation of pitch, the energy of Cataclysm ignited within the Tyrant.
The Arachnid barely had time to screech before its right side exploded in an eruption of blood-red flames, and hot, wet viscera and gore.
Leonidas was sent careening away when it did, and knew immediately that he¡¯d broken something when he was. The Tyrant¡¯s shrieking screams filled the air, and he managed to find the wherewithal to raise his head and stare with one working eye¡ªthe other was blurry at best¡ªat the screeching monster.
It turned to him slowly, and then convulsed.
Leonidas smiled grimly.
His mana was still being drained.
The Hive Tyrant took one more lurching step, and then, abruptly, exploded.
Leonidas covered down when the fire, guts, and chitin washed over him and his damaged [Archon''s Warplate], and gritted his teeth when he was flung further backward.
When he finally came to a halt, dazed, he stared up at what he expected to see¡ªand, truthfully, prayed to see.
It appeared a moment later, and he started laughing even while warm healing suffused his body.
Congratulations!
You are now [Level 8]!
B1 | Chapter 23: Khan
The acrid stench of sulfur filled the air, and he inhaled it like the sweetest incense. The sounds of jeering laughter, screaming pleas for help, and the last vestiges of distant, broken cries set a wonderful backdrop to the good work he was undertaking. Certainly, some people might call him a monster¡ªbut he knew that what he did was for the greater benefit of humanity.
If his loyal subjects wanted to indulge their fantasies with ¡®Fantasies¡¯, so be it.
Ganbaatar swilled the last dregs of his liberated drinking pouch, and then tossed it to the scorched earth. Acid green flames licked, still, at patches of blackened grass, and he chortled quietly at the immolation while moving his muscular frame toward what had once been the town hall of the fantasy settlement.
Here and there, the immense green or brown bodies of what he and his people called ¡®Orcs¡¯ lay broken or dismembered in fine demonstrations of fealty to the cause, and their viscera stretched upon the earth for the crows to feast on.
It was good, he reasoned, that crows still existed: a sign that not all things in their world had come to such an abrupt and unworthy end. Normalcy was to be celebrated, even in the case of otherwise inauspicious carrion.
Ganbaatar¡¯s strides were long and his footsteps firm while he approached the town hall, and the sounds of laughter and forced compliance echoing from within. His armor, a collaborative mixture of black steel, leather, and modern combat fatigues was strained slightly against his growing bulk¡ªand he reminded himself, yet again, to invest more points into Agility or Dexterity.
Strength and Intellect were fine and dandy, but he¡¯d be putting himself at a marked disadvantage if he met someone too much faster than him.
A rustling sound interrupted his thoughts, and Gaabatar halted mid-stride to turn to his right. There, amid the ruins of a broken and burnt wooden building, one single survivor remained. She had clearly been tossed among the rubble, from what he could see. She¡¯d cleverly shielded herself behind bodies and fallen wood, and had bided her time until attention had diverted.
Her long black hair was haphazard and mussed, and her unsteady movements told him that she¡¯d already been toyed with by his righteous warband. Their tastes, he reasoned, were a quirk of their natures¡ªbut they were loyal to the cause, always. It was strange for them to let a potential slave go unlooked-for, but perhaps they¡¯d simply thought her beyond use.
Ganbaatar sighed and made his way over toward her with calm and steady steps. The reality was that if he wanted to ensure the compliance and eventual control of the sector, he¡¯d need to deal with such problems as this in time. His soldiers, male and female both, were unique in their understandings of necessity¡ªand he was glad that he only needed to force them through Decimation once or twice every three months to maintain their composure.
The devil may care attitudes that the act fomented were useful, too. He did enjoy how fearless they were. The choice between certain death for defiance, or potential death and greater reward for success was an easy one to make. He took no pleasure in depriving the world of more humans, but, needs came before wants, and necessity was the mother of action.
His thick, steel-soled riding boots¡ªa momento from his time with the Mongols Motorcycle Club¡ªbrought him to a halt before the broken creature, and he placed his hands on his hips with a sigh. Her left leg had been severed at the knee, and she clearly had internal injuries. Judging by the dark bruising along her naked green flesh, she¡¯d likely been roughed up a little too much after they¡¯d realized she was useless as a slave.
How wasteful.
Ganbaatar tilted his head when she looked up at him, and smiled at her with his white teeth. He was very proud of maintaining his dental hygiene in the apocalypse, for all that people said it was a strange obsession. A man should only smile when he wished to convey his intent, after all; and Ganbaatar¡¯s teeth were as poignant as any animal¡¯s fangs.
¡°You probably don¡¯t speak English,¡± he began in his usual bass rumble. ¡°But I want you to know that I take no pleasure in this.¡±
The fantasy looked up at him with dull eyes the color of old rust, and garbled something in her strange and ugly language.
¡°Mar¡¯kath nog uleg nak tharath.¡±
¡°You see, that¡¯s what I despise about you people,¡± Ganbaatar said with a frown and squatted to peer at her. ¡°You don¡¯t bother to understand culture. This is our home, you know? You came here, unwanted, uninvited¡ªactual illegal aliens, as hilarious as that comparison is, and thought you could just settle in however you wanted.¡±
The woman stared at him uncomprehendingly, and reached out a piteous hand hesitantly.
¡°Ah, no, I¡¯m not here for that. You mistake me for someone willing to render aid. I¡¯m not surprised, though, given how incredibly primitive you people are.¡± Ganbaatar reached out and lightly lifted her chin, while turning her face from side to side. Small tusks protruded from the bottom of her jaw, and her features might have even been called attractive on a human.
It was a pity that she was a monster, instead.
¡°You see, I live by a simple code,¡± he continued despite knowing she couldn¡¯t understand. ¡°It¡¯s not, despite popular belief, the same code as the Humanity Alliance. Oh, the Iron Duke and his lackeys like to believe themselves the champions of humanity, but really they¡¯re just boomers taking advantage of the chaos to be something again.¡±
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Ganbaatar shook his head. ¡°Not me, my little monster. Me? My code is simple: You are either with me, or my enemy. My purpose is the defense of the world, and that includes standing against those of my own kind that would waste mother Earth¡¯s bounty. Humanity is a precious resource, but we can always make more of ourselves¡ªthough it does make every lost soul a wound in our species.¡±
He tapped her flat, squared nose and chuckled. ¡°You people, though¡ you live in squalor and shit, and call it civilization. You lurk in these wooden buildings and little huts, and you build with stone and mortar for your most precious buildings, and then call it advancement.¡±
Ganbaatar put a finger to her lips when she tried to speak and then cupped her chin again.
¡°Do you know that I don¡¯t actually hate your kind? Far from it. You see, I pity you.¡± He tightened his grip on her jaw, and her uncertain eyes flickered with fear. ¡°I pity how stupid you are. I pity how simple you are. I pity, miss invader, how truly and bewilderingly fucking dense you are. You come here to our world, murder our people, and call it ¡®fair¡¯¡ªwhy? Because the same thing happened to you?¡±
Ganbaatar chuckled mirthlessly, and his grip on her jaw hardened.
¡°What a crock of shit that is, eh? Putting forward pain onto others, simply because pain was put onto you, is a frightfully selfish way of doing things¡ªbut then again, your entire species is just too stupid and backward to understand these concepts, aren¡¯t you? Barbarians with swords, axes, spears, and ¡®magitech¡¯ that is just a poor excuse for real innovation.¡±
The orc started to sputter and try to escape his grip, but Ganbaatar was strong.
He was already pushing Fifth Tier, after all, and possessed all the power that came with it.
¡°In the end, that¡¯s why what we do is necessary, you see. Your kind won¡¯t appreciate the bounty that this world which birthed us offers. They won¡¯t take advantage of what it can provide.¡± Ganbaatar felt his Core purring in his torso, and he smiled widely at his audience. After all, a man¡¯s smile should show his intent. ¡°Nature is a delicate thing, my dear fantasy. It is important that we, as the trueborn children of nature, ensure the proper care and custodianship of this great world.¡±
Mana, thick and acidic green, flooded his channels from his Core while he spoke, and he barely paid the orc any attention when she started screaming.
The radiation burns could be rather painful, so he¡¯d been told.
¡°Ah, you see? There it is. In the end, you¡¯re all the same, really; screeching animals uncertain of their fate, and bound by the savagery of their nature. As I said, dear fantasy; I really do pity you. It¡¯s such a shame that this is all necessary, but you came here¡ªto my home¡ªin order to try to steal it from my people.¡±
Her screaming descended into agonized gurgles while his power melted her flesh and bubbled her eyes, and he grimaced at the stench of burnt pork and flaming hair. Only the lovely waft of sulfur kept him from feeling sick.
¡°I¡¯m my planet¡¯s savior, you might say,¡± Ganbaatar said while watching her movements cease when the flames finally started attacking and melting her skull. ¡°And you, dear dead fantasy, are a cancer that I intend on excising.¡±
His fire spread to the remnants of the building behind her, and the burnt wood caught like kindling irrelevant of his charcoal state. The entire thing went up like a bonfire, and Ganbaatar sighed at the sight. ¡°I suppose this may cause another small forest fire. Pity, that¡ but fire is cleansing.¡±
He looked back at the white bone in his grip, attached to her half-melted head, and sighed. With a flex of strength, he crushed the bone into fragments and stood up. ¡°Yes. You are a sickness on this Earth and I, Ganbaatar Khan, shall be the surgeon that removes it.¡±
His eyes turned to the town hall again, and disgust replaced amusement on his features. He could still hear his people indulging, and his tolerance had suddenly evaporated. ¡°When will they learn?¡± he asked grumpily, before making his way toward the building. ¡°Excess breeds bad habits. Honestly, I¡¯d thought this warband had learned the lesson.¡±
His pace was sure when he approached the doors, and his whistle almost cheerful when he picked up a discarded piece of wood and slid it through the handles. ¡°You really can¡¯t judge people properly, these days,¡± Ganbaatar said while testing the doors with his strength, and then nodding in satisfaction. ¡°It¡¯s one thing to indulge, but honestly, these silly idiots are slaves to their own amusement.¡±
The Khan placed his right hand on the door and, with only a bare flex of will, injected his cleansing green fire into the waiting product of mother earth. Like a lover¡¯s embrace, the wood and flame caught together, and the building erupted into flames.
¡°Now I need to go back and fetch a new warband,¡± he groused while sticking his hands into his pockets and strolling away from the burning hall. ¡°Not to mention finding new slaves. The Aetherium people pay for these creatures, especially in Babylon! Ah well, there¡¯s other settlements.¡±
He didn¡¯t know when he¡¯d started talking to himself, but he hardly cared. There was no better company than his own, after all, as this failed warband proved. Honestly, he really had nobody outside of his Warlords he could truly rely on. Perhaps his wives, but even they had their own issues¡ªalways yelling about freedom this, monster that.
It was like they didn¡¯t understand that humans had a responsibility to breed. His ancestor had sired dozens of children, and so of course Ganbaatar had to do the same. The women should have just learned to realize how lucky it was he¡¯d taken them from their weak collectives, instead of letting someone less righteous do it later.
How else was he supposed to breed an army loyal only to him? How much more obvious did he need to be? Only his children could be truly trustworthy, in the long-term.
His wives¡¯ lack of comprehension bothered him, sometimes. It was so tiresome.
Ganbaatar sighed when the screaming started up at thrice the volume inside the building, and the thumping against the door began in earnest behind him.
¡°It¡¯s a pity,¡± he said regretfully, ¡°but needs outweigh wants, and necessity is the mother of action.¡±
His eyes glanced upward to the sky, and he once again inhaled the nourishing scent of sulfur.
¡°As for you, strange Cataclysm¡ I wonder how you will sound when we finally meet? Sector 117 shouldn¡¯t be long for the finding.¡±
The Khan grinned, teeth shining white in the darkness. The thought of how much he could do for the world with 20,000 Aetherium and three platinum chests was exciting.
¡°I wonder how you¡¯ll sing when I cleanse you from the Earth.¡±
Ganbaatar Khan Rough Concept Art
B1 | Chapter 24: Revelations of a Ruthless Duchess
Leonidas shuddered at the feeling of the level-ups repairing his body, and snarled quietly under his breath when his entire right arm both popped back into place, and snapped itself around him where it had been twisted and broken at an odd angle. The armor had spared his skin, but the force of his expulsion from the Hive Tyrant had twisted his limb in ways human anatomy had not been designed to twist.
His left hand lifted to idly swipe away the still-hovering level-up screen, and he slowly pushed himself to his feet with a wince for his growling stomach. The [Psi Potion] had not ended up being entirely necessary, though he¡¯d almost needed it after he thought the Hive Tyrant would try to escape. Luring the creature in had been a simple matter of standing still and waiting, but he knew that the temptation of that wouldn¡¯t have worked twice.
The very first attempt had been more harebrained scheme than empirical planning, and there was a part of Leonidas¡ªthe part that had been tutored haphazardly by Generals far more capable than him¡ªthat wanted to slap his own head for the ¡®YOLO¡¯ nature of the tactic.
It had worked, yes, but that did not mean it had been ideal.
Leonidas raised his eyes to the Arena stands, and when he did, the Announcer¡¯s voice finally cut through the silence.
Or rather, a new Announcer did.
¡°{LADIES AND GENTLEMEN OF DAWNHAVEN, THE CHAMPION OF THE DUSK-LORD EMERGES VICTORIOUS!}¡± A woman¡¯s voice, clear and strong, proclaimed across the Arena. ¡°{THIS, EVEN THOUGH THE OPPONENT HE FOUGHT WAS FAR BEYOND HIS CONCEIVABLE ABILITY TO DEFEAT! A LEVEL 17 HIVE TYRANT, TRANSPORTED BY THE SYSTEM, AND CAPTURED BY THE DAWNGUARD FOR THE GAMES!}¡±
Cheers and gasps of surprise echoed through the crowd, and they abruptly erupted into applause at the news. Leonidas¡¯ eyes widened, and he looked at where the flaming corpse of the Hive Tyrant occupied the sands. Level 17? That would have put it a full Tier, and almost a full second Tier above him in strength. Even understanding as little as he did, he knew that the difference in power that represented must have been enough that his death should have almost been guaranteed.
¡°{THIS CHALLENGE WAS, OF COURSE, IN FULL KEEPING WITH THE CHAMPION¡¯S WISHES¡ª}¡± the announcer continued, at which point Leonidas snapped his eyes back to the Arena¡¯s crowd ¡°{¡ªFOR HE WISHED TO SHOW YOU, THE PEOPLE OF DAWNHAVEN, THE INDOMITABLE WILL OF A NATIVE SON OF TERRA!}¡±
More cheers, more applause, and wild adulation followed the words¡ªand Leonidas felt something soft hit him in the face.
A moment later, and a glance to his right, and he reached over to pick up what he recognized as a rose. Something else hit him, and he turned to his left to see another, and then another, and then suddenly a shower of flowers, each of them a different kind, littered the arena¡¯s sands.
{¡°THIS FEAT OF MIGHT HAS, OF COURSE, ONLY FURTHER SOLIDIFIED THE IMPECCABLE TASTE OF OUR DUSK-LORD, AND HER INDOMITABLE¡ª!¡±}
The Arena¡¯s announcer cut off abruptly when a trumpeting, bugling screech sliced through the air and two explosions of sand erupted near the dead Hive Tyrant. Leonidas snapped his eyes to the location, and when the dust cleared, his stomach dropped.
Two immense Arachnids, each one smaller than the one he¡¯d killed, but somehow more visibly lethal; chittered and shrieked near the dead body of the first¡ªand then their eyes, in unison, turned toward him. Each of them had a sleeker and more thickly carapaced body, two extra pairs of scything claws, and legs that looked more like a spider¡¯s than a scorpion¡¯s.
¡°Oh you¡¯re fucking kidding me,¡± Leonidas said in shock.
Without ado, the two arachnids fluttered their carapaces in rage, slashed their pincers through the air, and then charged at him full bore. Leonidas snarled to himself in anger, glared up at the arena¡¯s inhabitants, and then summoned back his psiblade in a flash of scarlet lightning.
His Health, Mana, Stamina, and Psi had been fully restored by his level-up¡ªand speaking of it, he needed to invest those new points sooner rather than later. To do any less would mean dooming himself, but first he had to figure out where they were most sorely needed.
Agility? Dexterity? Vitality? Intellect? Willpower?
He knew he didn¡¯t need Strength, but¡ª
Leonidas cursed himself out and, realizing there was no reason to dither, just slammed all 8 points into Willpower immediately.
The instant he did, his Psi flashed from 28 to 36, and his mana rose from a base of (68) 85, to (76) 95. His Mana Sage title¡¯s boost was, as he¡¯d thought, incredible at scaling his mana pool. The increase in Willpower also served to firm his mind against the dread that had occupied it, and he instead honed in his focus on the two Hive Tyrants.
First and foremost, he would need to find a way to evade their claws and stingers, then he¡¯d need to get in under them and try to wound them enough that they lost any kind of coordination. It wouldn¡¯t be his first time fighting vastly larger enemies, but a single good hit from either one would mean death, and if there was one thing his time in Elatra had taught him: it was that plot armor, no matter what people believed, was a fucking myth.
He¡¯d learned that the hard way, watching his companions die one after the other. There was also no running from this fight. Evading one Hive Tyrant had been hard enough with tracking, but two could simply corral and pin him. If he fled now, they¡¯d simply go under the sand and fight a way to ambush him in a manner he couldn¡¯t resist.
It was better to fight now, while they were angry and even slightly unstable.
Leonidas rolled his shoulders and activated his [Psikinetic Blade] across his sword when he did. A System notification seemed to flash, for one moment, in front of him¡ªand then vanished just as fast, with a speed that almost convinced Leonidas he¡¯d been hallucinating. With the psiforce spread across his sword, he eyed the approaching Hive Tyrants, each approximately twenty feet away, and let out a steadying breath.
Then, with a plan forming in his mind, he charged forward to meet them.
Always be on the offensive where possible, Miranda had once said. Your enemy cannot break your guard if you are constantly challenging theirs.
It had been excellent advice when he¡¯d been a messianic superhuman with demi-god levels of physical and magical power. Whether or not it would translate as he was now, however, remained to be seen.
It was all or nothing, though. Even while he charged, and closed distance step by step, his mind raced with a frantic plan.
First he¡¯d hit the one on the right, he decided, and then he¡¯d hit the one on the left. Perhaps a Phases of the Moon into a Shatter the Earth would be enough to sufficiently wound¡ª
The Monsters lurched, and he felt a pressure in his mind.
Leonidas blinked and instinctively slowed his charge.
Both creatures had, abruptly, stopped moving.
¡°What the fu¡ª?¡±
Before he could finish his words, both Hive Tyrants levitated from the sand with a joint screech of panic, rising almost ten feet into the air. Before he could do more than gawk in surprise, a silver-and-purple blur appeared in front of him with a crack of displaced air and an eruption of sand.
A moment later, he realized what he was seeing.
It was a person. More specifically, it was Ceruviel.
The Dusk-Lord¡¯s armored body was wreathed in a shroud of purple lightning, and her right hand was wrapped around the hilt of a magnificent lavender weapon. An amethyst was inlaid to both pommel and hilt, and Leonidas recognized what he thought was a wave pattern on the bottom edge of the bastard sword. It had a cruciform hilt like his own, though hers had eagle heads for the edges of the pommel, and the sword¡¯s edges and taper both seemed to shimmer with deep purple hues.
¡°Are you alright, Achilles?¡± Ceruviel asked coolly, and with an appraising glance over her shoulder.
¡°Uh¡ yeah.¡± Leonidas said with genuine surprise, and an instinctive glance down at himself. ¡°I¡¯m fine, actually. I gained four levels, and¡ªwait, what the hell is going on? Aren¡¯t these the opponents you¡ª?¡±
¡°No,¡± the Duchess cut him off curtly, and with a tone of controlled anger. ¡°These are not what was agreed. It was supposed to be one Hive Warrior, and six Hive Swarmers. The Warrior was supposed to be level nine, and the Swarmers level six.¡±
Leonidas¡¯ eyes narrowed at her words, and he looked up at the floating Arachnids. ¡°And those are?¡±
¡°Levels twenty-two and twenty-five, respectively.¡±
¡°...but they¡¯re smaller.¡± Leonidas said while shock lanced through him.
¡°Hive Tyrants shrink when they grow,¡± Ceruviel explained without preamble. ¡°They grow faster, more agile, and more dexterous. When they reach Second Tier, they evolve into a profoundly more swift and lethal form known as Swarm Tyrants. They also finally gain use of their wings. These¡ª¡± she lifted her blade to gesture at the two levitated creatures ¡°¡ªare Swarm Tyrants in their earliest stages, prior to properly evolving their wings.¡±
¡°Okay, and why am I fighting Hive Tyrants and Swarm Tyrants?¡± he asked with a flash of sudden anger which replaced his nonplussed shock. ¡°You told me this was a test, I didn¡¯t expect¡ª¡±
¡°The Arena Master changed the fight rotation,¡± the Dusk-Lord cut across him again. ¡°I saw the Hive Tyrant, but you seemed confident, so I declined to interfere. It was a fairer fight than I imagined, and I reasoned that a little adversity would be good for your development.¡±
Leonidas glared at that, but Ceruviel continued unperturbed.
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¡°You may think me cruel for that if you wish, but I saw how you adapted to your enemy. I was ready to intercede if I needed to, but I wanted to give you the chance to win on your own terms. Do you think I made the wrong choice?¡±
Leonidas opened his mouth to tell her she was a sadistic bitch, and then snapped it closed. Had she made the wrong choice? Since his return to Earth¡ªTerra, he corrected mentally¡ªand his whirlwind first day, a lot had happened. Had he not been used to exorbitantly out-of-the-norm pacing thanks to the accelerated nature of his training and exposure to violence on Elatra, he¡¯d have had far more whiplash.
His first day after being summoned, they¡¯d thrown him into a ring with a Lesser Shaggorath and Miranda had watched pitilessly as he¡¯d almost died to the tentacled nightmare. When he¡¯d finally managed to defeat it, by instinctively using his first ever iteration of what would eventually become ¡®Lumenkill Hyperlance¡¯; Miranda had shared some cold words of wisdom.
¡°This war will not coddle you. This war will not be safe. You have agreed to help us, and in doing so, you have agreed to be broken. I will break you, Leonidas, and I will rebuild you once I do. This war will have no mercy, and so, neither will I¡ªbecause you have to survive, or we are all dead.¡±
At the time, he¡¯d hated her. If he¡¯d read about that in a story, he¡¯d have hated her then too. It was easy, he reasoned, for his old self to have shouted abuse and called her demented, or called himself a fool for going along with it.
But life didn¡¯t care about what was fair. Life didn¡¯t give a shit about whether or not it was being kind, or whether or not someone was ready for the hardship.
Life hits you, often when you least expected it, and more often than not twice as hard than what you did expect. There was no training that could prepare someone for that. Not really.
But Miranda had tried.
Ceruviel seemed to be trying as well.
The question, however, was why?
¡°I do think it was cruel,¡± Leonidas responded finally, ¡°but I don¡¯t think it was malicious. What I want to know, though, is why?¡±
He stepped forward when he said it, and he looked up at the hovering pair of shrieking Arachnids, whose beady black eyes¡ªfilled with malignant intellect¡ªmoved warily between both of them. ¡°Why put me in the arena? Why offer to train me? Why act so familiar? You don¡¯t know me. Two hours ago you threatened to cut off my head and send it to my grandfather. What¡¯s the deal, Ceruviel? Be honest with me.¡±
¡°I have a Quest,¡± she said immediately, and without even an attempt at obfuscation. ¡°That Quest is to restore the Archons, or something akin to them, and to do so here¡ªin this new, untamed world. The Quest has stages, and the first one is to find an Apprentice.¡±
¡°Why not pick a High Elf?¡± he asked, while using the proper translation for Haelfenn.
¡°Because the Archons were an Order that my people can no longer understand. They have grown too used to peace, and a united Altera. Even here, they still struggle to adapt to the realities of a hostile world. It¡¯s why so many colonies have been wiped out: lack of comprehension for what a warlike native species is truly capable of.¡±
Leonidas didn¡¯t interrupt, and simply let her continue.
¡°My people will adapt, but right now, the current generation are not like this world¡¯s people, and clearly not like you.¡± Ceruviel smirked mirthlessly while she spoke. ¡°We Haelfenn are elegant people that pretend at savagery when needed. You humans, Achilles, are a brutish and savage people that pretend at elegance. Under your veneer of enlightenment, you are some of the most bloodthirsty and ruthless creatures I have ever encountered.¡±
Leonidas wanted to object, but he found he couldn¡¯t.
She wasn¡¯t wrong, he realized. Human history was evidence enough of that.
¡°In the first months of our settlement here,¡± Ceruviel continued, ¡°and after the Arena first appeared, there were protests from the locals. We used their convicts for the games, when we first opened the Arena, and they called it unjust, barbaric, and any other number of morally superior terms. At the time, it was quite baffling, given how fiercely they¡¯d initially resisted us¡ªbut we learned it was because of what I call a bubble of uninvolved distance. The convicts here, you see, were from elsewhere.¡±
Ceruviel¡¯s eyes crackled and popped with energy while she spoke, and she seemed completely uncaring for the fact that a mild amount of pandemonium had broken out among the arena¡¯s crowds. The flashes of silver armor Leonidas spotted spoke to the idea that, perhaps, the Dawnguard or Duskguard were helping keep order.
¡°That lasted all of a month more,¡± the Duchess continued, ¡°until two locals¡ªteenagers, in fact¡ªwere killed and raped by a small group of drifters. When we threw them into the arena, there were no more protests. The locals came out in a tide to watch their fates, and I have never seen a crowd more incensed, or more hungry for blood. In my centuries of life, and having met other ¡®humans¡¯, I have never encountered such depthless rage.¡±
She turned to him then, and her eyes were clear and intent.
¡°But it was a rage that was born from love. It was a hatred born from a desire for justice. It was an unvarnished, unapologetic, and unerring belief that the evil which they had perpetrated demanded recompense. It was the first time, Achilles, that I understood your race¡ªand in that moment, I realized that you humans had within you the very same ferocity, fire, and hunger for vengeance that drove the first Archons to become what they were.¡±
The question why she hadn¡¯t just taken one of the local humans, then, occurred to him¡ªand yet almost immediately, Leonidas realized the most likely answer.
¡°But even if they had unlocked Psi, they didn¡¯t have the combination of Archetype, and definitely not the Ambition,¡± Leonidas guessed out loud. ¡°Which is mandatory for an Archon¡¯s existence.¡±
¡°Correct.¡± Ceruviel confirmed with a tone of approval.
¡°So why risk me in the Arena, then?¡± Leonidas asked immediately. ¡°Why chance losing your Quest¡¯s first potential aid? After all, the rewards must be huge.¡±
¡°Very large,¡± she confirmed, ¡°and the why of it is simple: pedigree and perseverance. I needed to see your character. It was almost better if you weren¡¯t sure if you hated me, in fact, simply because it would mean you wouldn¡¯t put on airs. Your bloodline has been rather busy following the Incursion, and I had to know what you were: an anomalous mistake in the Paendrag family tree, or the true-born brother of the Reaper¡¯s Shadow, and the grandson of the Iron Duke.¡±
¡°What about my parents?¡±
¡°They¡¯re less impressive,¡± Ceruviel said candidly.
Leonidas snorted at the brutal honesty, and felt a little defensive, but didn¡¯t push it.
Then he remembered her words in the locker room.
¡°And what about the¡ªthe proposition?¡± he asked with an embarrassed cough.
¡°I lost myself to excitement,¡± she admitted shamelessly. ¡°I am quite mature, and bored, and I am what you would call a sensual hedonist. The idea of breeding with you appealed to that side of me, and we Haelfenn can be mercurially controlled by our impulses at the best of times. It was a slip that will not happen again.¡±
¡°I¡ I see,¡± he said with another flush of embarrassment. He also believed her, though in large part because he¡¯d seen that sort of lack of control on Elatra. The things he¡¯d walked in on, even among the most conservative of Melredor¡¯s High Elves, were shocking.
¡°It is surprising to know you have never been with a woman, though.¡± the Duchess said critically. ¡°Do you not see the appeal?¡±
¡°It isn¡¯t that,¡± he muttered, before staring at her abruptly. ¡°And why the hell are you asking me about that now? There¡¯s two giant¡ª¡±
¡°They aren¡¯t going anywhere,¡± Ceruviel said dismissively. ¡°I could sustain this Psikinetic Field for minutes more, yet. My Psi pool is considerable, and unlike you, I have learned to convert my Mana to fuel it as well.¡±
¡°How do you¡ª?¡±
¡°Answer the question,¡± she cut across him.
¡°Why?¡±
¡°Because I want to know if I need to adjust my strategy.¡±
¡°Your strateg¡ª¡±
¡°Just answer the question, Achilles.¡± she said coldly.
¡°Jesus! Fine. I just¡ª¡± he grimaced ¡°¡ªI want it to matter. I want it to be special. My parents raised me a certain way, and I¡¯ve always wanted¡ I dunno, a connection. I¡¯ve been sorely tempted before, and it¡¯s not like I¡¯ve never done anything, but¡ª¡±
¡°Such a contradiction,¡± she said with a quiet snort. ¡°One part innocent, another part killer. You¡¯ve likely cut your way through dozens, if not hundreds of sapients, judging by how you vented your anger on those Goblins¡ªyet you¡¯ve never even felt the warmth of a woman¡¯s cunt. How assiduously self-disciplined you are.¡±
¡°You¡¯re pretty vulgar, for a Duchess,¡± he said to her with a grimace.
¡°I¡¯m too old to give a shit about niceties, Leonidas.¡± Ceruviel said simply. ¡°And I dislike needless bullshit. This little trial of mine already tested the limits of my patience, which brings me, I suppose, to my question.¡±
¡°Which is?¡± Leonidas asked.
¡°Do you want to be my Apprentice?¡±
¡°That¡¯s a little abrupt, isn¡¯t it?¡± he asked in surprise.
¡°Old, Leonidas.¡± Ceruviel repeated dryly. ¡°Impatient. It is a simple question.¡±
¡°What happens if I say no?¡±
¡°I will send you packing.¡± she stated firmly.
¡°You won¡¯t kill me?¡± he asked warily.
¡°There¡¯s no reason to have the Alliance, Nomads, and Coalition oriented on a war footing toward Dawnhaven with specificity, no.¡± Ceruviel said sardonically. ¡°Sending you away is more in keeping with my duties.¡±
¡°Tarnys said you didn¡¯t fear them.¡±
¡°Not individually, no,¡± she confirmed. ¡°But I would be foolish, and incompetent both, to not respect the combined power they could bring to bear.¡±
¡°Okay, then why take me as an Apprentice at all?¡± Leonidas pressed. ¡°Wouldn¡¯t buying good will with one of the three be better?¡±
Ceruviel simply shook her head.
¡°Why?¡± he asked with a frown.
¡°Because of what you did to the Hive Tyrant,¡± she said simply, ¡°and because of whatever secret is lurking beneath those canny blue eyes. You aren¡¯t just a Psi-wielder, Achilles. Whatever secrets you have, I can promise I won¡¯t pry immediately¡ªbut I know Psi. I know it better than anyone in Dawnhaven, and I have seen every iteration of its power, and at the hands of a true Ninth Tier Master, at that. What you did? That was not Psi. That was not any Affinity I¡¯ve ever heard of. I want that weapon for myself, Achilles. I am not ashamed to admit that avarice.¡±
Leonidas felt his heart stop at her words, and Ceruviel chortled.
¡°As I said, Achilles, I shan¡¯t pry. Not yet, at least. Not until there is greater trust. A secret earned is worth far more than a secret coerced, and I cannot achieve my goals without your trust.¡±
¡°And that¡¯s really the only reason?¡± he asked dubiously.
¡°Of course not,¡± Ceruviel said with a laugh. ¡°I also want to turn you into a weapon, make you fall in love with a beautiful elven woman or three, and make you the single most wonderful living shield this Kingdom could ever dream of.¡±
Leonidas stared at her and then, despite everything, abruptly started laughing.
¡°You¡¯re fucking insane,¡± he said with genuine mirth.
¡°Perhaps,¡± she conceded. ¡°But I am also the only one that can truly help you unlock the potential behind your Affinity.¡±
¡°Can you share the quest?¡±
¡°I can,¡± she confirmed confidently.
Leonidas stared at her, and then looked up at the Swarm Tyrants in silent consideration. The offer was excellent, though he was still dubious. Ceruviel was chaotic, unpredictable, clearly powerful, and very evidently pragmatic. She was focused on her peoples¡¯ survival, and was unafraid to be candid about that fact. She wanted to use him, wield him, and manipulate his existence, power, and connections for Dawnhaven¡¯s benefit.
She was ruthless, loyal, utterly fearless, and immensely driven.
She reminded him a painful amount of Miranda.
He made his choice.
¡°I¡¯ll do it,¡± he said simply, ¡°on one condition.¡±
¡°Which is?¡± Ceruviel asked.
¡°Help me get a message to my family,¡± Leonidas said. ¡°It¡¯s¡ I owe them that much, and so much more.¡±
¡°Very well,¡± Ceruviel said simply. ¡°Agreed.¡±
Leonidas nodded, and looked up at the Arachnids. ¡°What about them?¡±
¡°Oh, them?¡± Ceruviel replied in a sweet tone that chilled his blood. ¡°Well, they are quite afraid, and twice as furious because of it¡ and that Arena Master just so happens to be on the cusp of Tier Two.¡± The Dusk-Lord turned to him, and Leonidas felt his heart race¡ªin both admiration and trepidation¡ªat the look in her eyes.
¡°Why don¡¯t we give him the chance to advance?¡±
Leonidas couldn¡¯t help himself.
He smiled.
B1 | Chapter 25: Skills and Schemes
PSIONIC SWORDFORCE
Congratulations, you have unlocked a new [Affinity Skill]!
[Rarity]: Rare
[Description]: You have successfully managed to unlock the Skill [Psionic Swordforce], and added it to your list of Affinity Skills. [Psionic Swordforce] allows you to project a layer of Psi across your weapon, and greatly enhances its offensive and defensive power.
[Effect]: Wrap your blade in a sheath of Psionic Power
[Cost]: 15 Psi on Activation, with a channel cost of 1 Psi per 3 Seconds until cancelled
¡°Congratulations on your victory, Leonidas.¡±
Leonidas swiped away his System screen, and looked up from where he sat on one of the benches when Tarnys entered the locker room, while smiling wryly at the black-haired elven warrior. Tarnys looked slightly ruffled to his eyes, and something about the elf¡¯s countenance spoke to ¡®dealing with the public¡¯ in the way that only such an experience could convey. He looked somewhat like a harangued police officer.
It was more amusing than it should have been.
¡°Thank you, Tarnys. I take it you were in the stands when Ceruviel interceded?¡±
¡°I was, as were several other members of the Duskguard and Dawnguard.¡± Tarnys frowned while he spoke, and his green eyes narrowed in consternation while he approached closer. ¡°It¡¯s quite unprecedented, Leonidas. The Arena Master knew there would be no tolerance for what happened to you in the games, and yet he still did it knowing it would cost him his life.¡±
¡°I take it he didn¡¯t survive the Swarm Tyrants?¡± Leonidas asked with little to no concern. Death for the criminally stupid, and those that actively worked to bring about his own demise, had long ago been numbed for him. Turnabout was fair play, and he wasn¡¯t going to pretend to care about the untimely end of someone that had intentionally tried to kill him.
¡°He didn¡¯t,¡± Tarnys confirmed. ¡°The match lasted all of five minutes, and happened almost immediately after you came back. The Dusk-Lord wasted no time in making a spectacle of him, much to the crowd¡¯s shock. He was a popular Arena Master, but he can be replaced. Our integrity is not worth his fame.¡±
¡°Did Ceruviel manage to extract who it was that put him up to it?¡±
¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± Tarnys responded with a little shrug. ¡°I have yet to speak to the Dusk-Lord about the matter, and I¡¯m only a Dagger-Master, Leonidas. I can¡¯t truthfully expect to be informed about such¡ª¡±
¡°You¡¯re a Lance-Master, now, Tarnys.¡± Ceruviel¡¯s voice cut in, and both Leonidas and Tarnys turned to the door to see her entering as silently and abruptly as if she¡¯d essentially teleported.
Tarnys stared at her, and Leonidas squinted at her.
When Tarnys seemed too struck to respond, Leonidas took advantage.
¡°Why can¡¯t I sense you, if I can sense Tarnys?¡±
¡°I have a shield around my mindglow,¡± Ceruviel responded with a tone that implied it was obvious. ¡°That will be another talent I teach you, eventually.¡±
¡°Is that a Skill?¡± Leonidas asked immediately.
¡°No. Not everything we do with the System is strictly tied to Skills. In fact, even though Skill Books and their requisite benefits exist, it is considered crippling to learn new talents that way.¡± Ceruviel explained with a tone of disdain for the entire notion. ¡°Skill Books can be fine, I suppose, for your Archetype or Aspect¡ªbut are far too linear for an Affinity like Psi. What you need is diversified Cultivation, and active acquisition of new knowledge in how to manipulate your natural power.¡±
¡°Is that what Skill Purchase Points are used for?¡±
¡°Yes.¡± Ceruviel confirmed. ¡°You may purchase Skill Books from the System with them, though I reiterate: outside of your Archetype or Aspect, they would be a mistake.¡±
¡°Alright, that¡¯s something to consider,¡± Leonidas said while turning back to Tarnys, who was still staring at Ceruviel mildly dumbstruck.
¡°I¡¡± the other man swallowed, glanced at Leonidas in bewilderment, and then turned back to Ceruviel. ¡°Me? Lance-Master?¡±
¡°Has that not been your ambition?¡± the Duchess asked with a hint of impatience.
¡°It has! It has, your grace, but I didn¡¯t think I would be selected to¡ª¡±
¡°Your power is lacking compared to some, true enough.¡± Ceruviel said with immediate and brutal honesty, and caused Leonidas to wince sympathetically. ¡°But your character is sound, Tarnys. I have known you since your days as a recruit, and one¡¯s mind is far more telling, to me, than merely their actions. You have always been noble in your convictions, and true to our mission¡ªmore than that, you had the common sense and wherewithal to bring Achilles to me directly, and swiftly.¡±
¡°It¡ªit was just the right thing to do,¡± Tarnys objected in a way Leonidas found a little odd. Why the man didn¡¯t just accept the promotion, with thanks and a simple salute, seemed strange. There was something going on Leonidas wasn¡¯t aware of, he surmised, and he resolved not to interject.
¡°Your chronic humility will be the death of your career, Tarnys,¡± Ceruviel said with a mix of fondness and disdain that Leonidas was quickly coming to realize seemed to be the Dusk-Lord¡¯s norm when speaking at times. ¡°I understand where your reservations stem from, but as I have told you half a dozen times; Milytha¡¯s death is not your fault, and constantly bearing that weight on your soul will only serve to diminish her memory.¡±
Tarnys visibly winced at Ceruviel¡¯s words, but the Dusk-Lord continued ruthlessly.
¡°You have been a loyal son of Dawnhaven since we all still served at the pleasure of King Valinois, Tarnys, and you¡¯ve proven your mettle on our homeworld and our new one. I greatly dislike having to explain to people why they are neither stupid nor incompetent, because the need to explain usually implies both to be true. I have chosen you as Lance-Master. The question is, do you still wish to serve? Or is this hesitancy a sign of flagging commitment?¡±
Tarnys¡¯ eyes widened at Ceruviel¡¯s words, and he dropped to one knee immediately, and slammed his fist to his heart.
¡°I would never, Dusk-Lord! My life belongs to you, and to Dawnhaven!¡±
¡°Good,¡± the Duchess said flatly, ¡°then stop being a moping fool and go celebrate your promotion with your wife. I am certain she and your son will be thrilled to hear the news.¡±
Tarnys looked up at Ceruviel, and smiled at her in a mix of devotion and gratitude that made Leonidas raise an eyebrow. The look on his temporary companion¡¯s face was one he¡¯d seen plenty, in fact, among the Knights under Miranda¡¯s command. Once again the borderline disconcerting level of parallels between Ceruviel and his former mentor, whom Leonidas was not entirely sure hadn¡¯t simply been part of some elaborate System hoax, made him thoughtful.
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¡°Thank you, Dusk-Lord!¡± Tarnys said while rising to his feet, and turning to Leonidas with a warmer smile than he¡¯d ever given. ¡°I suppose I will see you later, Leonidas!¡±
¡°Thanks. I¡¯ll win my next match for you.¡±
Tarnys blinked, but before he could speak, Ceruviel cut in again.
¡°Your matches are done, Achilles. What comes next will be both easier and more difficult, though it¡¯s something we¡¯ll need to get out of the way.¡± she sighed with what Leonidas interpreted as irritation. ¡°Becoming the direct Apprentice to the Dusk-Lord has its own complications.¡±
Tarnys¡¯ eyes widened, and he turned to Leonidas with an appraising look.
¡°I suppose we¡¯ll be seeing each other again soon, then¡ Ace.¡± the elf said with a slight smile. ¡°Take care, until we do.¡±
¡°You too, Tarnys!¡± Leonidas said, and then the black-haired elf saluted Ceruviel and left fast. He clearly wanted to go break the good news to his family, which it occurred to Leonidas he¡¯d never asked about. Part of him felt a little guilty for that, and another part of him wondered if it was even any of his business to begin with.
Thankfully, Ceruviel saved him before he could go down another introspective spiral.
¡°First things first, we need to clean you up and address some valid concerns around your origins, existence, and how little time I¡¯ve known you for.¡±
¡°You did jump on this Apprentice thing pretty insanely fast,¡± Leonidas pointed out.
¡°I have the advantage of my Affinity, Achilles. Your mind is no more mysterious to me, in terms of intent and desire, than my own. An open mind is like a Fortress, with its gates unbarred and unguarded. We will correct that swiftly, but first, tell me: what is it that has you so giddy with pleasure?¡±
¡°Oh! Right. Well, you remember how we spoke about Skills and whatnot?¡±
¡°You mean literal moments ago?¡± the Duchess asked sardonically.
¡°Yes, it¡¯s just a way of¡ªnevermind,¡± Leonidas said with a sigh. ¡°The point is, I unlocked a Title and Skill, and I may as well share them with you.¡±
Ceruviel raised her eyebrows a fraction, but nodded. ¡°Go on.¡±
¡°The first is the Title, Mana Sage, which increases my total mana by twenty-five percent, and my mana regeneration by the same.¡±
¡°I have heard of it,¡± his new mentor said in what he might have called an impressed tone, ¡°though never at your level. That bears some investigation. You will need to tell me how that happened.¡±
¡°I will,¡± Leonidas said honestly. There was no point hiding it. ¡°The second part is more in keeping with what you spoke about earlier: I unlocked a new skill called Psionic Swordforce.¡±
A look of satisfaction flitted across Ceruviel¡¯s face, followed by an expression of self-vindicated surety, as if he¡¯d confirmed something she¡¯d suspected¡ªbut the Duchess gave no insights as to her thoughts, and instead simply gestured for him to continue with unblinking attention.
¡°You don¡¯t know how I acquired it?¡± Leonidas asked with genuine surprise.
¡°That is a wildly idiotic assumption,¡± the Duchess responded dryly. ¡°I, too, possess the Skill Achilles¡ªwhat I am more curious about is how you came to possess it.¡±
¡°Oh. I just projected my Affinity across my sword using Psikinetic Blade. It took some doing, but I managed to force it to mold to the sword enough that it snapped into form." Leonidas used his hands to vaguely illustrate the process while he spoke, and shrugged when he was done. "I guess using it enough times in my match unlocked the Skill.¡±
¡°And you came up with this all on your own?¡± Ceruviel asked skeptically.
Leonidas frowned up at her. ¡°It just seemed more sensible than creating a second sword made of my Affinity. Anchoring it to my Psiblade¡ª¡± he emphasized the ¡®Psi¡¯ part of the name ¡°¡ªstruck me as vastly more efficient than wielding two different weapons, even if one might have been invisible, or usable at range.¡±
Ceruviel shook her head at his words and chuckled quietly, with an edge of disbelief.
¡°The reason for my skepticism, Achilles, is because not only did you perfectly manifest a swordforce in the original way it was conceived by the Archon Order, you managed to do so under pressure, in combat, and without even reaching your first tier.¡±
¡°I suppose that¡¯s impressive,¡± Leonidas admitted with a frown, though it felt strange saying so. Ceruviel¡¯s emphasis on the process was odd, but he learned way barely a moment later.
¡°Impres¡ªAchilles, Psionic Swordforce is a Third Tier skill, and less than ten percent of Psi users even come close to mastering it!¡±
Leonidas stared up at her in genuine surprise when she spoke.
¡°That seems ridiculous,¡± he said instinctively. ¡°It¡¯s such a simple¡¡±
He trailed off when he started speaking, and realized suddenly that perhaps it wasn¡¯t as simple as he¡¯d thought. Swordforce had been a talent he¡¯d mastered in Elatra during the so-called [Integration Trial] as a key component in wielding the Seven Sword Skills, and as part of his path as the Hero. He¡¯d learned it from Miranda, who had taught it to him herself in private.
When he¡¯d asked about that, she¡¯d merely told him to shut up and focus.
Thinking back on it, though, Leonidas couldn¡¯t remember ever seeing anyone other than himself or Miranda using the skill. In fact, outside of his own applications of the talent, he remembered feeling markedly confused by why more people didn¡¯t abuse the hell out of Swordforce¡¯s insane levels of amplification during battle.
Perhaps the skill had been far less common or well-understood than he¡¯d believed.
¡°So I take it me learning this is¡ª¡±
¡°Absolutely unprecedented, and cannot be shared.¡± Ceruviel said matter-of-factly. ¡°If anybody asks you how you fought, you simply say that you used Psikinetic Blade to sharpen an edge on your sword during cuts. Nobody with enough Psi Affinity exists to question the truth of the matter, and I will ensure that suspicion does not land on you.¡±
¡°Why the need for secrecy?¡± he asked with a frown. ¡°I won¡¯t deny you the request, but it seems sus¡ª¡±
¡°Because there are elements in this city, Achilles, that will gladly cut your throat the instant they deem you to be a genuine threat¡ªand manifesting Swordforce at Novice Tier makes you a very clear fucking threat.¡±
¡°Then why aren¡¯t you concerned?¡± he asked boldly.
At that point, she smacked him upside the head faster than he could blink.
¡°Because,¡± she said while he cursed and reached up to rub his suddenly-stinging scalp, ¡°you being a little monster factors perfectly into my needs for Dawnhaven, and I am uniquely suited to putting your head on a spike if you turn out to be the threat others may mistake you for now. I am training you, but I am also watching you, and I would be a poor Dusk-Lord if I wasn¡¯t prepared to put you down if you turned rabid.¡±
¡°Sure, okay, whatever,¡± Leonidas groused. ¡°But what now? No more Arena fights, so what¡¯s the next step?¡±
¡°The next step is as I stated. There are protocols to be followed. First, we¡¯ll get you some new and more appropriate clothes, and settle you into my home.¡±
¡°Hey, wait, what?¡±
¡°Would you rather live on the street?¡± she asked curtly.
¡°...nevermind,¡± Leonidas muttered. ¡°And then what?¡±
¡°We¡¯ll assess your skills, purchase points, and how to guide your growth¡ªand then, after all that, we will make two important stops. First, the Adventurers¡¯ Guild to acquire your Iron License.¡±
¡°Oh! Excellent,¡± he said with genuine enthusiasm, ¡°I wanted to do that anyway.¡±
¡°I assumed. You¡¯ll need it for Dungeon Delving if you wish to grow in strength.¡±
¡°And the second thing?¡± he asked with a growing sense of excitement.
¡°You will be taken to the Palace,¡± Ceruviel said with a sly smile, ¡°and present yourself to the Princess of Dawnhaven.¡±
Leonidas frowned at her words immediately, and eyed the tall, silver-haired aristocrat dubiously. ¡°Why?¡±
¡°Oh? That¡¯s your only question? I would think meeting Elven Royalty would be more daunting,¡± Ceruviel said with canny amusement.
¡°Consider it part of my eventually disclosed secrets,¡± Leonidas responded dryly, ¡°but I¡¯m inured to that sort of thing. Again, I ask, why?¡±
¡°I accept that for now.¡± Ceruviel stated with a nod, and then continued. ¡°As to the why, that¡¯s simple: Dawnhaven is poised on the edge of civil war, Achilles, no matter how tame Tarnys made it sound. The Dawn-Lord and I are of a mind on whom should ascend the throne in the end, but there was previously no way to guarantee it. Now, I see a path forward¡ªand it involves you, and your propensity for absurd achievements.¡±
¡°What are you scheming, Ceruviel?¡± Leonidas asked while watching the Dusk-Lord¡¯s smirking face.
¡°I¡¯ll explain on the way,¡± the Duchess said with a ruthless smile. ¡°I¡¯m sure you¡¯ll hate every moment of it, but such is the burden of the Apprentice.¡±
Leonidas sighed, took the cue, and rose from the bench.
¡°Don¡¯t I need to swear some sort of oath first?¡± he asked while moving forward to follow her.
¡°You will in time,¡± Ceruviel confirmed. ¡°But for now, just enjoy the exposition.¡±
¡°That sounds ominous,¡± he responded warily.
¡°Of course it¡¯s ominous,¡± Ceruviel laughed. ¡°I¡¯m going to put you through hell, Achilles. Don¡¯t tell me you¡¯re surprised.¡±
At that, Leonidas simply snorted.
He wasn¡¯t surprised one little bit.
B1 | Chapter 26: Adamantine
¡°{So if I understand this properly,}¡± Leonidas said in the Haelfennyr his mentor demanded he practice fluency with, while sitting opposite Ceruviel in a coach pulled along by a pair of massive armored war horses reared by the Haelfenn, and guarded by a Dagger of the Duskguard in the role of footmen and honor guard both. ¡°{Not only am I going to be living with you, but you expect me to promenade with noble ladies like some fop in a regency piece?}¡±
The interior of the Coach was painted a luxurious purple, and was spacious enough that he could both stretch out and have enough room for the plethora of bags and boxes he¡¯d acquired during Ceruviel¡¯s enforced shopping spree.
The Duchess herself had changed as well, and wore an eye-catching black chiton clasped at her waist by a golden belt that accentuated her bust, with her silver hair falling in beautiful curls around her shoulders and down her back.
A pair of elegant golden sandals wound their way up her legs to her knees, and she proudly displayed the muscled porcelain skin of her arms and legs while retaining a surprising level of reserved elegance to the entire look.
She did not appear at all like the hedonist she dubbed herself.
She actually looked like a Duchess.
¡°{Strategy, Achilles,}¡± Ceruviel replied with her usual impatience for what she saw as obstinate idiocy, and no indication she knew what he was thinking. The Dusk-Lord had been adamant that he needed to understand the political necessities of his role as her Apprentice¡ªor Squire, as she preferred to call it, given their shared Archetype and ¡®Archon Tradition¡¯¡ªwhile they¡¯d been shopping, and he¡¯d realized quickly it was not something she would easily be swayed from. ¡°{It is all about strategy. I do not know what a ¡®regency piece¡¯ is, but rest assured that I know what I am asking¡ªand what I am doing.}¡±
¡°{That seems like an excuse for me to meet women, Ceruviel, and nothing to do with actual strategy.}¡± Leonidas responded with a skeptical stare and stubbornly folded arms.
She¡¯d bought him an entire wardrobe, and he¡¯d been forced to change into a new set of clothes before even leaving the store; a black and silver ensemble that she said suited his particular ¡®aesthetic¡¯, while avoiding overtly showing affiliation to either Blues or Reds.
¡°{Training with the Duskguard, fighting in the Arena, or even leading Dungeon Delves with famous up-and-coming Adventurers; that is strategy.}¡± Leonidas continued emphatically. ¡°{What you are proposing is glorified Aristocratic speed dating.}¡±
¡°{It is important for you to make connections,}¡± the Dusk-Lord stated while raising her hand to brush aside a window curtain and peer out at the street carefully. ¡°{Dawnhaven runs on whom it is that you have in your corner. For all of our enlightenment, as we see it; we Haelfenn are notoriously tribalistic in our own way. Your family and personal strength matter immensely.}¡±
The Coach turned a corner, and Leonidas heard the uptick in activity and sound outside of it immediately. He was sorely tempted to just get out and walk, but he had a feeling Ceruviel would skin him alive if he did. She¡¯d stressed the necessity for him to rapidly adapt to his new circumstances, no matter what his ¡®foolish hang ups¡¯ were about her way of doing things.
¡°{We females are more easily able to flounce through life absent these things,}¡± she continued unabated, ¡°{though without the foundation for matchmaking¡ªthat being inherited and inheritable System traits of sufficient rarity¡ªeven they will be forced to accept lower stationed propositions.}¡±
¡°{You did not do any of that,}¡± Leonidas pointed out with a grunt. ¡°{You made yourself one of the most terrifying women alive.}¡±
¡°{Within Dawnhaven, certainly. On Altera, I was middling at best. Scale matters, Achilles, and I would remind you that my Mentor was vastly more powerful than I am.}¡±
¡°{That does not explain why I have to do all this foppish nonsense, Ceruviel. I can make connections with violence, not whatever the hell mad idea you have about trying to breed my Ambition into families you approve of¡ªand do not pretend that is not what you are talking about, either! I know you well enough, at this point, to see this attempt at diplomacy¡ªwhich you suck at, by the way¡ªfor what it is.}¡±
¡°{You¡¯ve known me all of three hours,}¡± Ceruviel replied with what Leonidas almost thought was both amusement and approval at his successful jab at her ¡®diplomatic¡¯ traits.
Ceruviel, for all her power and pedigree, was awful at diplomacy.
¡°{And I would only need five minutes to see through this plan, Ceruviel.}¡± Leonidas said blithely. ¡°{Do not pull my shackle. I shall be an acquiescing political tool within reason, but if you expect me to waltz around like the Duke in Bridgerton, you have another thing coming.}¡±
The Duchess snorted at his words, and let out an aggrieved sigh.
¡°{Your ¡®pop culture¡¯ references never cease to amuse and irk me.}¡±
¡°{Yeah, well, it is a coping mechanism,}¡± he said while resting back against the padded carriage wall.
¡°{Squires should listen to their Masters.}¡±
¡°{Only when their Masters are not trying to stud their Squires like prized stallions.}¡± Leonidas groused quietly. ¡°{I doubt you would have been too thrilled if yours had done the same.}¡±
To that, Ceruviel could only smirk wryly. She seemed to agree, though that didn¡¯t stop her making one more attempt.
¡°{You must be the only human on Terra that would object to the attentions of elven women,}¡± she declared with an appraising look at him. ¡°{Have I mentioned that we elves are naturally smooth? I¡¯ve heard that¡¯s quite a fascinatingly adored trait, among you human males.}¡±
¡°{Oh my God, Ceruviel,}¡± Leonidas said while running his right dragging his hands over his face and fighting back an infuriating blush, ¡°{for the love of all that is Holy, please stop!}¡±
¡°{Your need to cling to this idea of ¡®true love¡¯ will mark you as a bewildering outlier, Achilles.}¡± Ceruviel said with a mix of disdain and impatience that was far more honestly her, as opposed to the layered on attempts at diplomatically negotiating him into being auctioned off to her favorite families. ¡°{Advantageous pairings have nothing to do with something so ephemeral as affection and bonding. Certainly, there are those like Tarnys that are afforded such luxuries¡ªbut he is lowborn. You are both my Squire, and have the Ambition you have. You cannot afford to think in such a limited fashion. You should take at least three wives. To do any less will brand you as quite mad, or even impotent.}¡±
¡°{And I will proudly wear that branding, if it means not being pawed at by too-excited debutants,}¡± Leonidas retorted while trying to keep his voice level. ¡°{So again, can we please drop this ridiculous argument, and focus instead on the purpose of our visit here?}¡±
¡°{You refer to our trip to the Adventurers¡¯ Guild?}¡±
¡°{Yes.}¡±
¡°{Then look outside, Achilles,}¡± Ceruviel said while brushing down her chiton.
The coach came to a halt a moment later, and Ceruviel nodded to him when the door opened to Leonidas¡¯ right. He took the cue and stepped out of the carriage, and his eyes widened in surprise.
Distracted as he¡¯d been by his discourse with the obstinate Duchess, he¡¯d failed to realize that they truly had arrived at their destination. The Adventurers¡¯ Guild was everything he¡¯d thought it would be, and yet so much more.
The entire building was close to five storeys tall, with a faded marble exterior and green banners hung down its impressive outer face. It extended out far enough on each side with progressive levels of increasing width to look like a multi-tiered temple, and had a massive dome roof at its highest point.
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The entrance was a pair of immense doors that seemed to be locked open, and there was more foot traffic in and out of the building than anywhere else Leonidas had seen. The guildhouse, as Ceruviel had called it, was built onto a specific plot of land reserved for the Adventurers¡¯ Guild, and contained a massive stables, training amphitheater, and various crafting amenities all on its own.
It looked more like a university campus than a guildhouse, with a solid amount of greenery and land dedicated solely for its use.
A surprisingly feminine throat-clear caught his attention, and Leonidas turned to see Ceruviel watching him with a mix of impatience and amusement from where she sat within the carriage.
¡°{Help me down, Achilles. You are my Squire, Ward, and my Retainer, now. I am still a Duchess.}¡±
Leonidas snorted quietly at her words and moved to offer her his hand, while remembering the manners and etiquette Lyara had taught him what seemed like a lifetime ago, while training him to escort her to a ball in Melredor to raise support for the Grand Alliance from the nobles.
Ceruviel appeared pleasantly surprised by his proper stance¡ªright hand folded at his spine, left extended palm up and curved upward to allow her best purchase¡ªwhen she took his hand, and descended down the steps to the ground.
¡°{The mysteries grow, Achilles. You did not tell me you¡¯d been groomed in courtly etiquette.}¡±
¡°{You never asked,}¡± he said simply, and turned back to the Adventurers¡¯ Guildhouse.
¡°{I can feel your excitement,}¡± Ceruviel said from beside him with a snort. ¡°{I¡¯m surprised you aren¡¯t physically vibrating.}¡±
¡°{I love the idea of Delving,}¡± Leonidas said with honesty and without obfuscation. ¡°{A party, a goal, and really big chests. What is there not to love?}¡±
¡°{The risk of grotesque injury, agonizing pain, and occasional certain death, so I¡¯ve heard.}¡± Ceruviel said with only a mild amount of sardonic reprimand. ¡°{Do not fail to recall your purpose, Achilles. I need you strong, not irreparably maimed.}¡±
¡°{Yeah, I remember. Your grand plan for the success¡ªHnngh!}¡±
He half-doubled over when Ceruviel¡¯s casual backhand knocked the wind from his lungs, and wheezed while looking over at her.
¡°{We are no longer protected by the carriage¡¯s wards. Mind your tongue,}¡± she admonished him with no hint of playfulness. Cold intensity layered her words. ¡°{Do not force me to mind it for you. It would not be pleasant.}¡±
Leonidas simply nodded at the warning, and worked at pulling air back into his lungs. The hit, even casual and light, had felt like being kicked in the stomach by a bucking horse. It was easy to forget, when spending so much time under the auspices of her indulgence, that Ceruviel was not simply a beautiful woman with an extremely fit dancer¡¯s build: she was arguably the most powerful single combatant in Dawnhaven, if not the entirety of [Sector 117].
He let the pain serve as a reminder of that fact, and slowly straightened.
He could feel the bruise forming already, and grimaced at it silently.
¡°{Are you recovered?}¡± his mentor asked as if she hadn¡¯t been the one to hit him.
¡°{Enough to act normal,}¡± he responded with only a slight wheeze.
¡°{Then let us be on our way,}¡± the Dusk-Lord commanded intently, and walked forward with her hands clasped at the base of her spine like a general during inspection. Even without the blade at her hip, Ceruviel¡¯s mere presence screamed lethality, and when Leonidas followed her, he found that her simple approach was enough to create a rapid and sudden opening in the crowd of people entering and leaving the guildhouse.
The carriage had pulled up at the street entrance to the Guild¡¯s plot, and when he followed his mentor along the purposefully laid and maintained white marble path¡ªwide enough for six people across, at an estimate¡ªhe noticed quickly that nobody wanted to stand in her way.
An eclectic mix of people occupied the short footpath, and while the majority were Haelfenn, there were several humans present as well, and even the occasional Dwarf, Orc, Halfling, and other races too varied and different for Leonidas to easily recognize. Some with clear aquarian features, some that were bipedal or upright animals in all but name, and even one group that creeped him out and looked like Illithid in all but name. The first time he saw a bonafide ¡®cat girl¡¯, complete with tail and everything, standing next to a ¡®fox girl¡¯, he nearly let his discipline slip to openly thank the System.
The shameless weeb in him thought the Incursion was almost worth it for that view alone.
Tarnys¡¯ words about the Adventurers¡¯ Guild transmigrating as a collective whole came back to him while he followed Ceruviel toward the open doors, and Leonidas suddenly understood the immensity of what that represented. With so many disparate species, the Guild introduced a vibrancy of life to Dawnhaven that normal colonization would struggle to match in any short timeframe.
The Guild represented a chance for native populations to desensitize themselves to the myriad races of the System¡¯s cosmic web in a timely and manageable manner, and allowed for that same desensitization to prepare them for the inevitable influx of many other such beings. As Ceruviel had explained during their ride over, the initial Transmigration on ¡®Integration Day¡¯ was just a first wave.
There would be smaller, but consistent appearances of everything from individuals to entire settlements with regularity across the initial seven years of the Incursion. With two years remaining, she had seemed confident that there would still be large-scale transmigrations, and even stated that the most impactful ones tended to occur during the seventh year itself.
When asked how she¡¯d known all this, she¡¯d simply snorted.
¡°{The System sells knowledge books you can add to your Codex, though they can cost an egregious sum. Educate yourself, Achilles, when you have the funds. It will save your life.}¡±
He glanced at the back of the striding Duchess, and sighed wryly.
It was hard to argue with good advice.
When they finally crossed the threshold of the guild moments later, Leonidas took in the interior with a low whistle.
The entrance hall was an expansive foyer resplendent with mounted heads from various immense creatures, from dragons and wyverns, giant wolves and what looked like some sort of kraken-adjacent creature, to goblins, gnolls, trolls, and even giants and yeti. There was a trophy of some kind everywhere to be seen upon the walls around the area, and the foyer itself was a hub of activity.
A central reception built into a circular marble section at the middle of the hall seemed to be fielding questions, handing out rewards of some nature, and discussing things calmly, passionately, or even irately with equally reactive Adventurers.
While the ¡®officials¡¯¡ªall of whom Leonidas noticed were attractive women of all species¡ªeach wore the same green uniform from neck to knees, complete with stylish berets and black boots that extended up to cover their skin, the Adventurers were different.
There was both the fashionably matched, and the eclectically chaotic; with ¡®clown suits¡¯¡ªas his gaming habits called them¡ªwildly prevalent among the various adventurers who apparently didn¡¯t have the funds to ensure aesthetic uniformity. The vast majority wore simple plate, mail, leather, or robes and cloth of various types¡ªbut even among those there was an eccentric number of gaudy-bright items or ludicrously colored additives that vaguely hurt him to look at.
Colorful self-expression, it seemed, was a rite of passage for many.
+{Avoid eye contact where unnecessary.}+ Ceruviel¡¯s voice instructed him mentally, and drew a surprised glance toward her as a result. +{They will be curious enough in time. Focus on acquiring your license and finding your first Delve, and the rest will fall into place.}+
¡°{I thought there were no suitable dungeons nearby?}¡± Leonidas asked as quietly as he could.
+{There are none suitable for the Rite of Ascension. That does not mean there are none period. Dawnhaven is located near a nexus of ley-lines. There are more than enough Dungeon Cores in the area, and many of them are controlled by the Guild or the Royal Family. It¡¯s part of the economy post-Incursion, and the amount of Dungeons a settlement can control directly correlates to their future growth.}+
¡°{Well, that makes sense.}¡± Leonidas said, and then smiled when they arrived at a free counter¡ªthough, ¡®free¡¯ was mainly due to the fact that those waiting had all but fled when Ceruviel had approached it.
The woman behind the counter, whom Leonidas identified with surprise as a human, smiled at Ceruviel warmly when she approached.
¡°{Welcome back to the Guildhouse, Duchess Latherian.}¡±
¡°{Thank you, Celia.}¡± the Dusk-Lord said in an equally surprising tone of familiarity. ¡°{Is the Guild Mistress around? I want to register a new Adventurer.}¡±
¡°{She is,}¡± the woman, Celia, said with a look of genuine surprise. ¡°{Though I am surprised to hear you want to register someone, your grace. What¡¯s the occasion?}¡±
¡°{This is Achilles,}¡± Ceruviel said with a gesture back to Leonidas, who inclined his head politely to Celia. ¡°{As of this morning, he officially became my Squire and Ward.}¡±
Celia¡¯s eyes widened at her words, and Leonidas heard several people nearby fall silent. Motion seemed to stop within the hall, and all eyes turned to regard Leonidas with what he could only call a mix of surprise, curiosity, mild envy and¡ªperhaps least surprisingly of all¡ªovert pity.
Ceruviel, it seemed, was very well known.
¡°{I see.}¡± Celia said with a critical glance at him herself. ¡°{And you wish to conduct the testing and induction privately?}¡±
¡°{If that is not a problem,}¡± Ceruviel said with a nod.
¡°{Of course not, your grace.}¡± Celia said with a smile. ¡°{Your Adamantine Rank comes with that privilege.}¡±
Leonidas¡¯ eyes widened, and he turned to Ceruviel in surprise.
¡°{You never told me you were an Adventurer!}¡± Leonidas said with a feeling of bewilderment.
Ceruviel turned back to him, and with an expression he could only describe as smug satisfaction, she used his own words against him.
¡°{You never asked.}¡±
B1 | Chapter 27: Swordmaiden
A clash of steel echoed within the enclosed courtyard, and Aylar Eldormer grunted at the impact against her blade. The princess¡¯ long, flowing blonde hair bounced while she jumped back, and her thick warplate clinked with the rattle of chainmail when she dove back in to bring her blade to bear against her opponent.
The opponent in question, one of the golden-armored members of the royal guard, took her responding blow upon the wide surface of his winged shield¡ªand threw the princess back a moment later.
¡°Your stance is too wide, your highness,¡± he said from beneath the features-obscuring greathelm. ¡°You need to compact your arms to better ward with your shield, and retain your balance.¡±
¡°I am wielding a blade and a shield, Mernyn. I was told to¡ª¡±
¡°You were told to ensure you had room to move and block, yes, but not at the expense of your ability to fight¡ªand certainly not while diminishing your strength output.¡±
¡°My brother¡ª¡±
¡°Your brother is male, and you are female, Princess.¡± Mernyn responded mercilessly. ¡°Until you have managed to pass level twenty, you must adhere to the restrictions of your gender. Cultivation is only the great equalizer when you manage to make it such.¡±
Aylar scowled at him, but didn¡¯t argue. She could hardly deny the truth of his words, no matter how vexing they were.
Biological disparity cared nothing for personal desires.
Only Cultivation could truly erode the differences.
¡°If I had been able to start training earlier¡ª¡±
¡°If you had been able to, then yes, things might be different,¡± her instructor and protector said calmly, ¡°but you were not able to, and so they are not. Dwelling on hypotheticals will only serve to frustrate you further.¡±
¡°I know that,¡± Aylar groused with frustration and scowled down at her longsword, ¡°but I cannot help how much it aggravates me.¡± She looked back up Mernyn, and felt her pale cheeks flush further with heat at her anger. ¡°Having to wait until my twenty-fifth year to learn to fight, while my brother was able to begin at his age of majority? It¡¯s ridiculous.¡±
¡°It¡¯s only a five year gap, your highness.¡±
¡°Yet Braedon is already at his third tier!¡±
¡°Your brother had many advantages,¡± Mernyn pointed out. ¡°The Dawn-Lord was his instructor even before coming to Terra. Your father was grooming Braedon to command this transmigration. It was you that threw in the wild card and elected to come as well.¡±
¡°Better to be here where I can define my future,¡± Aylar responded fiercely, ¡°than on Altera, where I¡¯d just be married off to some distant prince.¡±
¡°Understanding your motivations does not change the fact that you, technically, are the intruder within the intended design of Dawnhaven¡¯s prospective monarchy.¡± Mernyn stepped back while he spoke, and assumed a calm ready stance. ¡°We know your temperament, your highness, and that is why the Reds favor you for the Throne of Dawnhaven¡ªbut there is little we can do if you cannot pass the Rite of Ascension first, or at least quickly enough to challenge your brother.¡±
Aylar sighed when Mernyn spoke, and felt the power of her Light Affinity suffusing her mana channels with radiant heat. She mirrored his stance when it did, and lifted her kite shield¡ªtucked in closer this time¡ªand extended her longsword to the right in preparation.
¡°All of this feels wrong, Mernyn. I am standing in the way of my brother¡¯s lawful claim, and I understand that well¡ªbut to do otherwise¡¡±
¡°You have shared your feelings on this matter before, your highness, and now as it was then; my opinion, and that of your Reds, remain the same: there is nothing to be ashamed of.¡±
Aylar attacked when Mernyn spoke, and funneled her anger and impassioned frustration into the strikes of her blade. The forms she used were taught to her by the Guard after reaching Terra, and only because she had both reached her twenty-fifth summer and because they were irrevocably cut off from Altera.
Her father had never wanted her to be involved in war, despite all her objections. Her mother had been a Swordmaiden of peerless ferocity, and that same aspiration burned within Aylar as well.
¡°If only Braedon was more reasonable,¡± Aylar said with frustration amid clanging exchanges with Mernyn¡¯s blade, ¡°it would have made everything so much easier.¡±
¡°Your brother was born to his Fire Affinity and Warrior Archetype, your highness. He is as hot-headed and impulsive as both choices would suggest. He will make a fine Bannerlord, with time, but he would make a terrible King.¡±
¡°My father¡¯s insistence on my weakness only gave credence to his claims of my incapability, too!¡±
¡°Your father was scarred by your mother¡¯s death, princess.¡± Mernyn said while smoothly parrying away a particularly vicious strike she¡¯d sent for his gorget. ¡°He was quite afraid of losing you in kind.¡±
She¡¯d heard that before, and yet her response was the same, and every bit as frustrated each time.
¡°He crippled my ability to defend myself!¡±
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She knew what the follow-up would be as well.
¡°He ensured you would never have to, had you stayed on Altera.¡±
Aylar growled and attacked Mernyn with renewed fury, channeling the power of her awakened Duelist aspect and leaning into her [Battle Rhythm] to flow faster into each blow. The more strikes she made in sequence, the greater her attack speed and coordination grew, and unless Mernyn broke her rhythm; it would escalate for as long as her Stamina could fuel it.
That, of course, was when the distraction that broke her focus arrived.
¡°The Dusk-Lord has announced that she is on her way, your highness.¡±
Aylar glanced to her right at the words instinctively, staggered, and cursed when she overbalanced during a sword-swing. Mernyn¡¯s shield came up in merciless punishment, and her world turned black, and then white when the metal cracked against her face.
The world returned to her when she hit the ground, and Aylar groaned up at the sunlight streaming through into her private courtyard from the open sky above.
¡°System damn it, Leona. Your timing is awful.¡±
¡°My apologies, your highness.¡± The newly arrived guardswoman said with a hint of amusement. ¡°Though I assumed you¡¯d want to hear this news immediately.¡±
¡°You were right,¡± Aylar admitted while reaching up to settle her hand over her face, and layer a warm benediction of [Mending Touch] against her cut lip and damaged nose, ¡°and I do. For what purpose is the Dusk-Lord coming, Leona?¡±
¡°The Duchess Latherian declined to specify the reason, your royal highness, but I should note that she very specifically ensured the message only reached the Reds.¡±
Aylar¡¯s lips curled into lamenting disapproval at the iteration of the term, but she didn¡¯t reprimand the woman for using it. She might have despised the split in loyalty caused by her brother and her fighting over the succession, but she also acknowledged that the support she received as a result was invaluable.
If Dawnhaven were to be embroiled in a civil war despite her best efforts to the contrary, then high elves like Leona would be the ones to fight and die on her behalf. She couldn¡¯t disrespect that willing sacrifice by deriding their choice of overt support, no matter how much she knew it would have infuriated her father to see it.
¡°I have no idea what game the Dusk-Lord is playing at,¡± Aylar said while rising to her rump and setting aside her shield with a sigh, ¡°but the Duchess has been defending our people longer than any of us have been alive.¡± She felt her vernacular automatically slipping from the ¡®heroine¡¯ to the ¡®princess¡¯ while she spoke. ¡°I suppose it would be prudent to assume the matter to be of significant importance.¡±
¡°That would be my assumption as well, princess.¡± Leona agreed. ¡°I have already contacted your Seneschal to inform him of the development, and pulled some favors to place Reds along the paths needed to spirit the Duchess to your apartments absent unwanted attention.¡±
¡°If Duchess Latherian wanted to see me without anyone knowing, she¡¯d simply appear before me.¡± Aylar said with mild distraction, and focused on removing her steel gauntlets with a wince. Her hands were sore from the hours of training she¡¯d been doing with Mernyn, but she hoped her Tier One healing factor would ease the pain quickly.
¡°You believe, then, that she wants to be seen visiting you?¡± Mernyn asked curiously.
¡°I believe that attempting to discern the mind of Ceruviel Latherian is like trying to comprehend the vastness of the great dark between the stars, Mernyn.¡± Aylar said while forcing herself to her feet¡ªneither guard made the mistake of offering her help¡ªand wincing while stretching her back. ¡°I learned long ago to simply accept whatever the Dusk-Lord offered, when she offered it.¡±
Once she was done stretching, she turned back to the guards properly.
¡°What I know, however, is that the Duchess does nothing without specific calculation, and if she is coming to see me, then she is making some sort of statement or powerplay. The question is what the nature of that power play is, and why now.¡±
¡°I would assume that to be a simple answer, your highness.¡± Mernyn said in his usual tone of unruffled calm.
¡°Because of the tension between you and the prince,¡± Leona agreed simply.
Aylar nodded at them both and handed her gauntlets to Mernyn silently.
¡°Yes,¡± the princess said with a sigh after the guard accepted the gauntlets. ¡°This will incense my brother, especially after her public and blatant repudiation of his advances, and will only serve to increase the tension between our factions.¡±
¡°Then logically, she either has a very good reason for what she¡¯s doing, or has another plan in place.¡± Leona said thoughtfully.
¡°Or both, and a third element we won¡¯t know until she deigns to reveal it,¡± Mernyn said with a tone of consideration. ¡°Ceruviel is certainly mercurial, but she is also a strategic genius. I have no doubt that whatever she is doing, your highness, will be to your benefit.¡±
¡°Gaining her loyalty was a great boon,¡± Leona agreed again.
¡°I didn¡¯t gain her loyalty, as much as I was forced to accept it,¡± Aylar responded wryly. ¡°I was not given much choice in the matter, truth be told. I felt as if declining to accept her offer of aid would result in a thorough beating, royal title be damned.¡±
Both guards shifted at that, and Leona sighed under her helmet.
¡°Truthfully, your highness; it¡¯s not as if we could stop her.¡±
¡°And that, Leona, is what makes her simultaneously wonderful and terrifying at the same time.¡± Aylar said while flexing her abused fingers, and lamenting the multitude of times Mernyn had parried her longsword. Her instructor¡¯s parries were worse to deal with than his blocks in a way if only because he put counter-active force into the use of his blade, whereas his shield merely absorbed her hits.
¡°I need a shower,¡± the princess continued with a sigh, ¡°and a change of clothes. If Ceruviel sees me like this, she might even offer to teach me herself, and I don¡¯t feel like being bedridden for a week.¡± She turned to Leona after smirking at her own jest. ¡°How long do I have until she arrives?¡±
¡°No more than two hours, your highness. She said it would be any moment after that, however.¡±
¡°Enough time for a bath, then, and to make myself presentable. Will you alert me when she arrives?¡±
¡°Of course,¡± Leona said with a bow of her head.
¡°Good. I¡¯m going to go see to my post-torture routine, then. When she arrives, send her directly to my apartments. I¡¯ll meet her in my study.¡±
¡°Yes, your highness.¡± Leona said dutifully.
¡°Good luck,¡± Mernyn said after his extended silence. ¡°I fear you¡¯ll need it.¡±
¡°Oh Mernyn,¡± Aylar said with a wry laugh. ¡°If Ceruviel is coming to the palace outside of a scheduled event, we will all need it.¡±
And to that, she heard both of them agree.
Aylar Eldormer Rough Concept Art
B1 | Chapter 28: The Guild Mistress
Leonidas stepped into the spacious rounded chamber Celia led them to, and then departed from, with a mix of curiosity and what felt like now-habitual wariness. The interior was formed of plain white marble, with runes of power shimmering faintly across the circumference of the walls. The outward areas of the chamber seemed intentionally devoid of decoration, and instead only a single massive crystal¡ªpulsing with prismatic light¡ªdominated the center of the room.
It was placed on a dais, and seemed to radiate pure power even to Leonidas¡¯ far reduced senses. His time on Elatra had made him hypersensitive to mana in some ways and he could tell, even if only loosely, that the artifact possessed a saturation and concentration of energy that would be equivalent to something like a modern fission reactor.
The fact it was just sitting there was bewildering, and only further increased his sense of wariness. The crystal ball located on a plinth in front of it only made him more concerned.
Though, in fairness, his path thus far made that wariness feel quite justified.
Since his return to Earth¡ªTerra, he mentally reminded himself¡ªand all the events that had followed, he¡¯d been pulled from one point of change to another. Between meeting his family, losing that contact again, being taken captive by Tarnys, meeting Ceruviel, and then fighting in the Arena; the confluence of events within which he¡¯d participated after returning were¡
In a word, they were baffling.
The odds of him not only selecting the Affinity, but the Archetype, Ambition, and Aspect all required for him to become a member of an enigmatic ancient Order of warriors was low enough. The fact that exactly that combination, paired with his family¡¯s meteoric ascent in fame, would additionally make him the ideal Apprentice to one of the most powerful combatants across the continental United States?
That, he felt, was just pure horseshit.
Something else was going on.
Whether it was someone stacking the deck while knowing him well enough to guess his choices, someone actively manipulating events¡ªwhich he found far less likely, truthfully, given he felt no loss of agency¡ªto play out a certain way, or simply the fact that he had lucked into everything in the most astronomically implausible demonstration of ¡®may the odds be ever in your favor¡¯ he¡¯d encountered to date; Leonidas knew one thing for certain.
You really could not make this shit up.
¡°{Hello, Ceruviel.}¡±
Leonidas¡¯ introspection was rudely cut short by the sound of a cultured female vibrato, and he snapped his gaze in the direction it had come from¡ªin time to see a towering and athletic woman with skin the color of alabaster, and what appeared to be scales along the sides of her face descending down toward her exposed and generous bust.
Her body was covered in segmented armor plates that looked one part metal, and one part organic, and a decidedly reptilian tail snapped at the air around her while she made herself known to them. Her steps were sure and firm, and her eyes burned with molten gold heat, set upon black sclera beneath a sweeping curtain of blood-red hair.
The icing on the cake was the pair of horns, rising up from a face that looked deceptively young, and tantalizingly welcoming to the eye.
Naturally, his every instinct screamed ¡®DANGER¡¯.
¡°{Sinalthria.}¡± Ceruviel greeted the new arrival with a familiar warmth. ¡°{I see you¡¯re still preferring the dramatic entrance.}¡±
¡°{Oh please, Ceruviel. I don¡¯t want to hear that from the ¡®Duchess of Twilight¡¯.}¡±
Both women laughed, and Leonidas looked between them with cautious apprehension. Of all the people and things he¡¯d seen up until that moment, Sinalthria took the cake for both diversity of appearance and pure power. There was something about the woman¡¯s presence, and the faint wash of passive heat that her approaching presence provided, which set Leonidas¡¯ nerves on edge.
¡°{And whom is it you have brought to my lair, Ceruviel?}¡± Sinalthria asked with an air of predatory fascination. Her eyes settled on Leonidas fully when she spoke, and he felt himself break out in a cold sweat at her gaze. There was something about it he simply couldn¡¯t explain, something that sent his hindbrain into a flight or fight reflex that saw him reaching¡ªinstinctively¡ªfor his [Cataclysm Core] to defend himself.
In the instant before he did, [Noble¡¯s Resolve] burned to life.
He felt it more acutely, now that Ceruviel had explained its purpose to him.
It was like the stubborn refusal to bend the knee, the proud adherence to a leader¡¯s comportment, and the unabashed avarice of desiring to rule and enforce one¡¯s vision. It seared through him like a wave of reassuring heat, and flushed out the cold grip of fear that had assailed his heart.
The sweat remained, but Leonidas felt himself return to his own mind, as if something had momentarily¡ªand quite elegantly¡ªcast his self-control and self-assurance into the depths of the dark beyond between heartbeats.
The moment his steady self-control returned, he exhaled to release his tension.
When he did, Sinalthria¡¯s presence suddenly changed.
In place of a primal and predatory ferocity, there came instead a mere ghost of the same. It was a lurking watchfulness, a wary intensity, and a permanent sense of potential calamity. Her presence vacillated between almost reassuring and one-mistake-from-wrathful, and Leonidas eyed the woman askance.
¡°{Well?}¡± Ceruviel asked with what Leonidas identified as smug satisfaction.
¡°{You truly did find someone extraordinary, didn¡¯t you?}¡± Sinalthria said with her molten eyes focused entirely on Leonidas. ¡°{Even under the full weight of my presence, he managed to master himself¡ªand while still in the Formation stage, as well.}¡±
¡°{I want to register him immediately,}¡± the Duchess said without wasting time, ¡°{and in private, lest his traits become too widely known.}¡±
¡°{Ah. You wish to veil his information? I wondered why you requested a direct meeting, though I had my suspicions. Very well, the Assessor is prepared.}¡±
¡°{The Assessor?}¡± Leonidas asked while looking between them. ¡°{Also, while I appreciate the mysterious exchange, I would prefer not being spoken about like I am not right here in the room.}¡±
¡°{Strong-willed, too.}¡± Sinalthria said with a look of appraising approval. ¡°{You have found yourself a perfect mirror.}¡±
¡°{He is a sheepdog in a world of wolves,}¡± Ceruviel said with a knowing look at Leonidas, who blinked at her in surprise. When had she¡?
Ah. Of course. The Arena.
+{This is why you must learn to guard your thoughts.}+ Ceruviel said into his mind. +{Which you will be taught with all haste.}+
Leonidas simply nodded, and Sinalthria¡¯s lips parted into a smile that showed off her pronounced canines. ¡°{What a wonderful way of putting it. A sheepdog in a world of wolves. I find that most agreeable as a statement. Very well, Ceruviel; let us proceed with his Assessment.}¡±
Leonidas raised an eyebrow, and Sinalthria turned to him intently.
¡°{What shall I call you, child?}¡±
Given the woman didn¡¯t look a day over thirty, Leonidas might have objected¡ªif not for the fact Ceruviel was the same, and he knew his eccentric mentor was at least three centuries old or more.
¡°{For the purpose of the guild, I will go by ¡®Ace¡¯.}¡±
¡°{A flair for the dramatic too, I see.}¡± Sinalthria said with a resonant laugh. ¡°{You truly are well-matched to the Duchess. Very well, ¡®Ace¡¯, follow me. We will begin your assessment.}¡±
Sinalthria turned away when she spoke and moved immediately for the pulsing mana crystal, with Ceruviel striding purposefully behind her. Leonidas hesitated for only a moment and then stepped forward to accompany both women. The runes along the room shimmered and flared when he moved, and Leonidas caught the distinct feeling that they were actively adjusting to him, as if his movements and moods were directly correlating to their shifting natures.
When the trio reached the massive crystal, he felt a pulse of energy radiate throughout the room, and it seemed centered on the crystal itself.
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Sinalthria pulled his attention before he could dwell on it further.
¡°{This is the Assessor. There are more convoluted and complicated names for it, but I prefer simplicity where needed. All you have to do is place your hand on the crystal ball tethered to its power, and the Assessor will rate your potential.}¡±
¡°{What does that mean?}¡± Leonidas asked while stepping closer to the seemingly innocuous sphere, and raising his naked palm over it hesitantly. ¡°{Is it some sort of¡ª}¡±
¡°{It would be far easier to simply show you.}¡± Sinalthria interrupted firmly. ¡°{So make haste. For all that I am giddy at my friend¡¯s acquisition, I am a busy woman, and doing this test privately is not a luxury I should strictly be indulging.}¡±
Ceruviel snorted softly, but didn¡¯t gainsay the woman, and Leonidas grimaced.
It was easy to forget that he was still a very small fish in a new and massive world, and that what was happening to him were as much a part of that on-going function as they were part of his, for lack of a better term, ¡®story¡¯. Of course the Guild Mistress was busy. Very likely, she¡¯d have not looked at him twice if not for his mentor.
So, Leonidas cast aside his questions, and simply did as she asked.
He placed his hand upon the crystal ball.
Ironic that my potential will be discerned by a charlatan¡¯s prop piece.
The moment his flesh touched the glass, the interior of the orb lit up with a rainbow spread of light, and he felt a sudden pull on his nascent [Cataclysm Core]. Leonidas¡¯ brows furrowed, and although the feeling wasn¡¯t actually painful, he felt a notable level of discomfort from the intensity of it.
¡°{Now then, let¡¯s see what the Assessor thinks of you¡}¡± Sinalthria said with what seemed like genuine interest.
Leonidas looked at the woman, and then to Ceruviel, and then up at the crystal. When he did, he saw that it had started to shiver and change, and its internal luminescence was trending toward a deep magenta, combined with a swirling scarlet. While he watched, the magenta seemed to erode slightly, and crackles of crimson lightning began to ripple within the translucent interior of the immense crystal.
From there, the storm within it seemed to build¡ªand the crackles turned to outright bolts of power. The Assessor seemed to vibrate, to Leonidas¡¯ eyes, and the scarlet energy within took on the aspect of storm clouds mixed with a whirlpool, and the edges of the Assessor seemed to tremble as if under the influence of an earthquake.
Flames, blood-red and violent, licked across the edges of the inner translucence¡ªand Leonidas momentarily lost himself in the radical, terrifying beauty of his Cataclysm Mana manifested so fully within the magical object. There was a kind of hypnotizing ominousness in the way in which his power made itself clear, and even with the shot-through magenta coloring that populated areas of the interior, the bloody scarlet of his Cataclysm Mana dominated all.
¡°{Is that normal?}¡± Ceruviel asked abruptly and interrupted Leonidas¡¯ admittedly vain admiration of his own mana. ¡°{I¡¯ve never seen such a¡}¡±
¡°{No.}¡± Sinalthria said in a tone that was suddenly very much more focused. ¡°{That is most assuredly not normal. His Affinity is Psi, I saw that clearly, and yet it is being overridden by something.}¡±
The Guild Mistress turned to Leonidas and stepped closer to him, while peering up into his eyes. As close as she was, her gaze seemed to blaze with power when she looked at him.
¡°{Do you not have a Psionic Core, child?}¡±
Leonidas hesitated at her question, glanced at Ceruviel, and then grimaced.
¡°{I do not.}¡± He admitted.
Ceruviel¡¯s eyes widened fractionally, and she observed him with critical eyes. There was no disappointment in her stare, though; and instead there seemed to be something between wariness and approval burning in her purple gaze, as if she were seeing him¡ªand understanding him¡ªa little more clearly, and with a greater sense of clarity for his value.
At least, that¡¯s what it felt like to Leonidas.
Truthfully, she could have been wondering how best to murder him.
¡°{Not a Psionic Core. Fascinating. This¡ª}¡± Sinalthria turned and gestured a long-nailed hand at the Assessor ¡°{¡ªis like nothing I have ever seen. Fire Cores burn orange, and while they are known for being wild, this makes them look tame. Lightning and Thunder Cores flare with blues and whites, and while they crackle too, this makes those storms seem like pretenders. Blood Cores, as rare and impressive as they are, shine Crimson¡ªbut they do so with aquatic characteristics and mixtures of Shadow Affinity. This¡}¡±
¡°{What is it, Sinalthria?}¡± Ceruviel asked with a hint of her usual impatience. ¡°{You¡¯re being dramatic again.}¡±
¡°{I am not,}¡± the Guild Mistress objected, though Leonidas noticed a small blush¡ªdespite the circumstances¡ªstaining her pale cheeks. ¡°{This is unprecedented, Ceruviel. Look at the energy in the Assessor! It writhes and rages, like a barely-contained typhoon of raw and primordial fury. It sings to me, in ways that I have not felt since my birth. There is destruction here, yes, but so too is there cleansing. This power¡ it ripples through my bones. It is like the condensed force of a natural disaster.}¡±
Leonidas felt himself go cold, and looked between the two women with a rising sense of anxiety. Something about the sudden shift in demeanor told him to keep his mouth solidly shut, and that¡¯s exactly what he did. There was a tension, suddenly, that only a fool wouldn¡¯t notice¡ªand it extended immediately between the two women.
Each of whom, he was candidly aware, could break him like a twig.
¡°{What is your Core called, child?}¡± Sinalthria asked him finally, and looked back at him with feverish intensity. ¡°{I must know its name. I must!}¡±
¡°{I¡ª}¡±
¡°{It is a secret he wishes to keep,}¡± Ceruviel cut in suddenly, while appearing at his other side. ¡°{I gave him my word that he could do so, Sinalthria. Until he is ready to divulge the information, I swore I would not pry¡ªand thus, neither can you.}¡±
¡°{But Ceruviel! The power that he has is¡ª}¡±
¡°{We have been friends for centuries, Sinalthria.}¡± Ceruviel cut across the other woman tersely. ¡°{You knew my master, and I knew your sire. I am asking you, for me; do not press this matter. I promised him my discretion. I will enforce that promise if I must.}¡±
¡°{You cannot be serious, Ceruviel! This discovery is¡ª}¡±
¡°{Sinalthria.}¡±
The Guild Mistress and Duchess stared at each other for a long moment, and finally the former relented with a curse. When she did, she stepped back and folded her arms under her bust with what Leonidas could have sworn was a pout. ¡°{Fine, Ceruviel. For you, and only for you. This once, in my magnanimity, I shall not pry¡ªbut! The moment, and I mean the moment he reveals the truth, you must tell me!}¡±
¡°{I believe I can agree with that,}¡± Ceruviel said with what Leonidas thought was a relieved smile. ¡°{Now, what is the Assessor¡¯s verdict?}¡±
Sinalthria looked back to the crystal, and with a mutter, her nailed fingers flicked the air.
When they did, a series of ratings filled the air in golden lettering.
Assessment Results ¡ª Level 8, Formation Stage Core
Power ¡ª B+
Speed ¡ª C+
Defense ¡ª B+
Mind ¡ª A-
Growth ¡ª S+
Potential ¡ª S+
Projected Final Level ¡ª 90+
Leonidas found himself staring up at the assessment with a growing sense of trepidation and even a measure of relief. The results looked good, and he found that he could take some measure of satisfaction from the Assessor¡¯s projections. He had hoped he¡¯d be able to reach Ninth Tier, and based on what the Assessor was saying, it believed he could as well.
A smile of relief washed over him, and he looked at Ceruviel and Sinalthria.
When he turned back to them, however, he found both women staring at him gravely.
¡°{...what?}¡± he asked with genuine confusion.
¡°{You have an S-rated growth assessment, Ace.}¡± Sinalthria said with a tone of seriousness that immediately made him pay attention. ¡°{The average, even among our most promising Adventurers, is a C at the very best. Ceruviel and I both managed to scrape B minus, and we were considered prodigies.}¡±
The Duchess nodded gravely at Sinalthria¡¯s words, and fixed Leonidas with an intense and analytical stare.
¡°{As suspiciously insane as it is, Squire, you have managed to break every known record within the Guild¡¯s lore. There was only one other person, in eons past, that was thought to have equal potential power to your own.}¡±
¡°{But they are a myth, and little known about. Even their gender is forgotten,}¡± Sinalthria said dismissively. ¡°{What you¡¯ve managed to demonstrate here, however¡}¡±
¡°{I think it is safe to say you will be granted a license, Achilles.}¡± Ceruviel said, and Leonidas noted that Sinalthria perked up at the use of the name, though she didn¡¯t comment. ¡°{But there is still a formality that must be followed.}¡±
¡°{Indeed. The trials!}¡± Sinalthria said with a gleeful look. ¡°{We have one about to start in, oh, ten minutes as a matter of fact!}¡±
¡°{Perfect,} Ceruviel said with a smile. ¡°{You will participate in that, without anyone knowing you are my Squire. It will be useful, too, in helping you find a party.}¡±
¡°{This all feels a little rushed¡ª}¡± Leonidas started to say, before being ushered backward by Ceruviel, while Sinalthria turned back to the Assessor thoughtfully.
¡°{Yes yes, you have reservations. I have heard it all before, Achilles. For now, focus on triumph during the trials¡ªand from there, we will discuss what comes next. Come.}¡±
¡°{What about my license?}¡± he asked with a grunt of annoyance.
¡°{Win the trials first,}¡± Ceruviel said with a smirk, ¡°{and then you can have your validation token.}¡±
Leonidas sighed in resignation.
It really was just one of those days.
Sinalthria Rough Concept Art
B1 | Chapter 29: First Impressions
Leonidas was ushered out of the assessment chamber, as he mentally referred to it, by an impatient Ceruviel¡ªwho promptly shut the doors to the rounded area in his face, and left him in the hallway with an amused looking Celia.
¡°I take it they kicked you out?¡± she asked in English.
¡°Yeah. Without any hesitation,¡± Leonidas replied with a sigh. ¡°Apparently I have to complete a trial?¡±
¡°That¡¯s what I was told,¡± Celia confirmed while motioning for him to follow, and setting off down the expansive, tapestry-decorated wide corridor on the third level of the guild house. ¡°I¡¯ll guide you to the training field where the tests take place.¡±
¡°Ceruviel mentioned not telling anyone I¡¯m her Squire,¡± Leonidas said while following Celia when she set off. ¡°But how does that work when she announced it for the whole damn foyer to hear?¡±
¡°It is unlikely that anyone in the trial will recognize you, since they were already there and waiting prior to your arrival¡ªbut if need be, we can also veil your appearance.¡± Celia said with a smile and glance backward. ¡°Do you have a helmet or mask?¡±
¡°I have a helmet,¡± Leonidas confirmed, ¡°but I was told not to use it, even though it¡¯s bonded to me. It messes with Psi, or something. The Amplifier I got from the Store is a headpiece too, but that¡¯s more of an, I dunno, circlet or whatever than a real cover.¡±
¡°Hm. You said the helmet was bonded?¡± Celia asked with a thoughtful sound.
¡°Yes,¡± Leonidas confirmed.
¡°Why not bind the Amplifier to the helmet?¡±
Leonidas stared at her for a moment, and then his eyes widened.
¡°I can do that?¡±
¡°Did Ceruviel not tell you?¡±
¡°She most certainly did not!¡± Leonidas groused, and immediately lifted his right hand to summon his [Psionic Amplifier] from his [Spatial Storage Ring] with a surge of mana and flash of Intent.
¡°And you already have a storage ring, as well?¡± Celia asked in surprise. ¡°I see that the Duchess is taking care of you.¡±
¡°Hardly.¡± He snorted. ¡°I bought this on my own, though she has updated my entire wardrobe.¡±
¡°You bought that on your¡ªbut those go for at least one hundred and sixty Aetherium!¡± Celia exclaimed. ¡°Where did you manage to acquire that much currency? Is your family rich?¡±
Leonidas blinked in surprise at her words, and glanced down at his ring. Rich? Well, he¡¯d thought he was, until the store had all but bankrupted him. A quick sweep of his memories followed, and then his eyes widened fractionally.
I have a 50% discount on the Store! He remembered abruptly. Has the System just been showing me the prices after discounting them, instead of including the original cost?
Out loud, he responded with a simple ¡°something like that¡±, which didn¡¯t quite satisfy Celia¡¯s curiosity, but seemingly was enough to give her a hint not to pry further.
A passive 50% discount hadn¡¯t seemed as impressive when he¡¯d first received it, though he¡¯d been far more focused on the fact that the System was calling him the worst mass murderer since Mao Zedong. The Great Leap forward had claimed the lives of somewhere between thirty to forty million innocent Chinese, and yet compared to what he¡¯d done¡ªinadvertently or not¡ªby unleashing the System, it was a drop in the ocean.
The blood of billions, in theory, stained Leonidas¡¯ hands.
Whether or not he was aware of what he was doing was moot.
He tried not to think about it too often, for the simple reason that if he started spiraling down that rabbit hole, he wasn¡¯t sure he was ready to truly handle it. There was something to be said for circumstance and ignorance, but Azrageth had warned him. That was a sticking point that remained in his mind, too.
Azrageth had warned him. Azrageth had known. He had been self-aware.
What, then, did that mean for the [Integration Trial] and Elatra at large?
The thought that perhaps he hadn¡¯t been part of some simulated space, but instead genuinely taking part in a fight on another world, and been transported back to his own following its conclusion haunted Leonidas. In the most repressed recesses of his mind, he wondered what that actually meant for him¡ªand for Altera. He hadn¡¯t missed the anagram, after all. Only an idiot would.
Elatra. Altera. He had assumed it to be some sort of clever play on words by the System, using an existing System world to create a mock-up trial in order to test human potential for Integration.
It also didn¡¯t explain why he, of all humans on Earth, had been chosen.
There were too many questions, too few answers, and he could already feel the existential panic, anxiety, and dread coming on in a way that he simply did not want to deal with. So, instead, he did exactly what his time in the war had taught him: he compressed it all, tied it into a neat knot, and threw that shit as far down his mental filing space as he could.
He could worry about it later, after he wasn¡¯t being whiplashed between random events like an episodic television show. Combat, in many ways, helped him to disassociate as well: it was something he understood, something that consumed all of his attention, and something he was¡ªfor better or worse¡ªremarkably good at.
¡°So,¡± he asked Celia while pretending like he hadn¡¯t just gone down the psychological kaleidoscope, ¡°how do I do this bonding thing?¡±
¡°Oh. It¡¯s quite simple. Let¡¯s stop here and I¡¯ll guide you through it.¡±
Leonidas halted obligingly, and the cheerful brunette stepped closer and extended her hands for the amplifier he was holding. With a raised eyebrow, Leonidas handed it to her, and she spoke when he did.
¡°Now summon your gear, and I¡¯ll show you what to do!¡±
¡°Okay,¡± he said obligingly, and while trying to ignore the fact she smelled like a wonderful floral mix combined with the slightest hints of coconut moisturizer.
A mental flex of will and expenditure of mana followed, and his clothing was covered immediately by his armor. He still didn¡¯t quite understand how it all worked, other than the fact that his armor¡ªwhich still qualified as [Damaged]¡ªseemingly forced whatever he was wearing to displace.
It did so in a way which allowed the plate to unobtrusively form over what he was wearing, and would subsequently reset his clothing back to normal once he dismissed it again.
This time, he mentally included his helmet in the summoning, and the familiar darkness at the far edges of his peripheral vision set in when he summoned it.
¡°Done,¡± he said through the helmet.
¡°Huh¡¡± Celia said thoughtfully. ¡°That armor looks ancient. Was it an heirloom?¡±
¡°No, I bought it from the Store,¡± he said with a slight shrug, and a clink of plate and chainmail.
¡°I see¡ Hm. It¡¯s quite an old design. That will certainly raise some eyebrows, but as long as you win,¡± she smiled warmly, ¡°I suppose it won¡¯t matter. Now then¡¡± Celia lifted the crown-like Amplifier, narrowed her eyes, and held it just above his helmet¡ªthough she had to stand on the tips of her toes to do so.
Leonidas pointedly kept his gaze upward.
¡°What do I¡ª¡±
¡°Channel your Core-aspected mana into the helmet,¡± Celia cut in, ¡°and let me know when it starts to tingle.¡±
¡°To tingle?¡± he asked skeptically.
¡°To tingle,¡± she confirmed with a grin.
Leonidas frowned, but didn¡¯t doubt the woman. She was the Adventuring Guild official, not him, and treating her evident kindness with disdain seemed like a one-way ticket to consequences he wouldn¡¯t enjoy. With a steady breath out, he reached into himself and found his [Cataclysm Core]. With a mix of his Willpower and practiced methodology, he gripped the seething ocean of scarlet fury roiling within his nascent Core-space, and tore it free of its housing.
The Cataclysm Mana attempted to flood outward immediately, but Leonidas held onto it with firm attention. His [Noble¡¯s Resolve] flared in the back of his mind, and he felt a sense of authoritative control suffuse him. Ever since Ceruviel had explained the ability to him, [Noble¡¯s Resolve] had been triggering far more often¡ªor rather, he had been able to notice it more often.
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The Skill¡¯s power added to his own already-considerable¡ªfor his level, purportedly¡ªWillpower, and Leonidas was able to force the surging maelstrom of Cataclysm Mana along his mana channels with only a moderate amount of seething pain.
For all that he had adjusted to the sensation, the reality was that his Cataclysm Mana was still scouring him every time he used it¡ªand with no immediate level-up pending to soothe the burn, he would need to endure the subsequent pins-and-needles feeling that rippled through him in the aftermath.
His mana reached the crown of his head, and he felt it break around the Chakra¡ªwhich he understood to be very much real, thanks to his time on Elatra¡ªwithin his skull, and jump from his internal channels to the bonded helmet ensconcing his body. The moment it flooded the piece of armor, he felt his [Archon¡¯s Warplate] subtly vibrate and flood with a strangely pleasant heat, and almost instantly, the helmet started to tingle.
It was the weirdest feeling, yet that was the only way he could articulate it.
¡°Okay,¡± he said while half-distracted by his focus on controlling his power, ¡°what now?¡±
By way of answer, Celia immediately dropped the Amplifier on top of his helmet.
¡°Push the mana between your helmet and Amplifier.¡±
¡°But I thought the Amplifier only uses Psi¡ª¡±
¡°Only because you do not understand your Affinity¡¯s full use yet,¡± Celia said with polite but firm interjection. ¡°Please do as I said.¡±
Without further argument, Leonidas complied.
The moment he did, he felt something spark between the [Psionic Amplifier] and his [Archon¡¯s Warplate], and a moment later his mental Synergy tracker went up by five percent instantly.
When it did, he saw a flash of white light in his vision. It faded nearly instantly, and when it did, he noticed that the darkness which had once occluded his periphery was gone¡ªand instead, he had a complete and unbroken view of everything around him within range of his natural eyesight.
More than that, he could feel Celia. It was difficult to explain in a way that his rational mind could process it, but it felt as though he had suddenly achieved an awareness of her that was at odds with his prior comprehension of the world. It wasn¡¯t an active sense of knowing where she was, but instead it was like he was able to willingly choose to know where she was¡ªand could opt to focus on her and track her, using that option, on a whim.
His [Psionic Focus], in other words, had been boosted considerably.
It would be extremely useful for what he assumed was either a group or individual combat trial looming before him.
¡°Okay. This is awesome,¡± he said simply. ¡°Though I don¡¯t know why I can suddenly see everything. It feels like I¡¯m not wearing anything.¡±
¡°That is the nature of a Psi-attuned improvement,¡± Celia said brightly. ¡°It uses your psionic senses to create a real-time sensory input for what is happening around you. The cost to maintain it, to my understanding, is also negligible. You won¡¯t even feel the drain it puts on your resources, so long as your total Psi is over twenty-five points.¡±
¡°Can I turn it off?¡±
¡°Of course,¡± Celia said with a laugh, ¡°you just need Intent, like everything else.¡±
Leonidas tried it immediately, and his vision returned to the shadowed peripheral view he¡¯d had prior to bonding the [Psionic Amplifier] to his armor. A second later he flexed another thread of Intent, and his unobstructed vision returned once more. Or rather, the darkened edges of his peripheral sight simply faded away.
¡°I see!¡± He said with excited realization. ¡°It doesn¡¯t replace my vision, it just corrects the obstructed areas.¡±
¡°An astute observation, Achilles! Yes, that is quite a perfect description of the enhancement.¡±
¡°And all Amplifiers do this?¡±
¡°Bonded ones do,¡± Celia said with a raised finger, and a cheerful smile that he found infectious. ¡°It¡¯s quite cool, actually, to see someone with bonded armor. It¡¯s pretty rare, even among the Guild members.¡±
¡°I suppose I¡¯m as ready as I¡¯ll ever be for the trial, then.¡± Leonidas said with a glance down at his faintly battle-scarred, and lightly damaged gauntlets. ¡°I hope the wear and tear doesn¡¯t lose me points.¡±
¡°No, I don¡¯t think it will.¡± Celia said with a laugh. ¡°It makes you look like a veteran.¡±
¡°One that maintains their armor poorly, though.¡± he groused with remembered lessons of proper equipment care, and Miranda¡¯s scolding whacks, resonating through his mind.
¡°Perhaps, though I think you look quite rugged.¡± Celia said with another grin. ¡°Though we¡¯ve probably delayed enough. I think we¡¯re going to cut it a little too close if we don¡¯t hustle.¡±
¡°Oh. Right,¡± Leonidas said with a nod. ¡°Let¡¯s go.¡±
Celia set off again immediately, Leonidas followed her through the expansive guild corridor, down several flights of winding stairs he¡¯d only recently ascended, and then out through what he assumed to be a side-corridor on the ground floor and through a small pair of double doors into the grounds beyond the Guild house.
When they emerged into the sunlight, Leonidas let out a low whistle while he followed Celia over the flat green behind the Guild house¡¯s structure, and toward the same training field he¡¯d partially spied upon arriving at the Guild.
It was only a few dozen yards from the main building, and consisted of multiple different areas¡ªsome open, and some obfuscated¡ªwhere myriads of Adventurers appeared to be practicing their craft.
Ranged combatants sent spells, arrows, and throwing weapons of all different types hurtling toward distant targets on a carefully separated practice range, watched over by green-uniformed attendants and the occasional combat-centric guild officials. Each one of the latter was easily identifiable, despite their eclectic and myriad armor styles, by the green cloaks or sashes they wore emblazoned with the Guild emblem.
Elsewhere, melee fighters struck either what appeared to be animated golems, inert target dummies, and even each other under the critical eyes of more Guild officers¡ªwith the occasional instruction or barked command following any mistakes or missteps.
The sheer vibrancy of life, color, and thriving enthusiasm momentarily blew him away. The Guild, in that moment, became real to him in a way that his mildly-permanently shocked mind hadn¡¯t been able to grasp prior. It gave the new ¡®fantasy¡¯ aspects of Earth a sense of reality and life that his brain still hadn¡¯t quite fully accepted, and in that instant, he realized to his core that things would never be the same.
This, he finally understood, was his new real life.
The moment that acceptance settled on him, he felt tension melt away.
Celia, utterly oblivious to his momentary epiphany, led him past several lanes of training and¡ªwhile exchanging hellos and smiles with various Guild staff and enforcers¡ªbeelined for a small arena of elevated white marble seating, with gaps between each section. Sets of benches, rather than individual seats, were placed at the points of the compass, and each one was long enough for ten people to sit comfortably abreast.
They were built in layers of five, with the lowest at level with the open area of sand below, and the highest perhaps ten feet in the air. The arena itself was quite spacious, with a diameter of about fifty yards and enough room for combatants to fight and maneuver comfortably without excess range. In the middle, a muscular elf in the Duskguard¡¯s silver plate was delivering a stern lecture, and appeared to have swapped his normal cloak for the Guild¡¯s green.
An officer of both the Duskguard and Guild, then. That was interesting.
When Celia stepped through one of the gaps in the arranged seating, Leonidas followed her silently and assumed an instinctive parade rest behind her when she came to a halt.
¡°{...the furthest thing from acceptable! To be Licensed by the Adventurer¡¯s Guild, you must¡ªeh? Celia?}¡±
The elf speaking paused mid-diatribe, and turned to face the buoyant brunette.
¡°{Hello, Cerevil! I¡¯ve brought a late arrival for the trial.}¡±
¡°{We¡¯ve already almost finished the orientation speech,}¡± the man, Cerevil, said with a frown. ¡°{He¡¯s too late to join us.}¡±
¡°{Ah¡ about that,}¡± Celia said while stepping forward, and leaning up to speak to the elf quietly. While she did, Leonidas cast his gaze around at the occupied seats. Close to two dozen faces looked back at him, and he saw the most eclectic mix of people yet; from young and soft-faced humans that couldn¡¯t have been older than eighteen, to grizzled elves and orcs, one dwarf, a pair of what appeared to be gnomes, some beast-kin races of several types and even¡ªif he wasn¡¯t mistaken¡ªa girl that could have been Sinalthria¡¯s younger sister.
She regarded him with cold appraisal, and her molten eyes tightened in what he thought was consternation when she did, before abruptly turning her attention away and dismissing him from her notice.
¡°{Achilles!}¡±
Leonidas raised an eyebrow beneath his helm, and then turned back to Celia and Cerevil when Celia called his name. Mutters and ripples of laughter spread among the humans, and even some elves, when his name was called¡ªbut he ignored them studiously. Instead he stepped forward dutifully, and nodded in greeting to Cerevil, who appraised him with a more careful and nuanced gaze after whatever Celia had said to him.
¡°{It¡¯s rare we have a recommendation, instead of simply another applicant. Usually, your kind bypass the trials. I¡¯m interested to see what you¡¯ve got.}¡±
¡°{I¡¯m honored to be given the chance to participate,}¡± Leonidas said simply.
¡°{Hmph. We¡¯ll see.}¡± Cerevil replied. ¡°{Go take a seat, we¡¯ll be starting the first matches when I finish the outline of expectations. I¡¯ll start over for your benefit, but don¡¯t expect preferential treatment beyond that.}¡±
Leonidas could already feel the glares of the others, but he simply bowed his armored head.
¡°{Thank you, Master Cerevil.}¡±
The elf blinked at his words, and Leonidas could have sworn he stood a little straighter after they were said. Around them, he also heard the crowd¡¯s reaction in a mix of Haelfennyr and English.
¡°{...be a lord¡}¡±
¡°...pretentious name, too¡¡±
¡°{...Master Cerevil! Puh-lease¡}¡±
¡°...kind of asshole calls themselves Achilles, bro¡¡±
¡°{...absolute blowhard¡}¡±
¡°...and settle down, Brad Pitt. Fucking loser¡¡±
Cerevil¡¯s words cut through the noise moments later, and the voices fell silent.
¡°{Hmph.}¡± He rumbled thoughtfully. ¡°{Right. Yes. Go on, then. Take a seat.}¡±
Leonidas grinned under his helmet, turned, and made his way toward the stands. His eyes swept the seating, and he noticed more than a few looks of annoyance or outright disdain after his exchange with the proctor. Judging by the intense stares of his new peers, it was not going to be a merciful competition.
Excitement stirred within him, instead of any kind of idiotic embarrassment.
He didn¡¯t care what the people there thought of him. He¡¯d long ago grown past being sensitive to the petty whims of other people, regardless of what inspired them. He hadn¡¯t conquered or united half of Elatra by being cowed by some glaring teenagers. Compared to Azrageth or his Infernal Generals, the death stares he was receiving were laughable attempts at intimidation.
What they signified, however, made him smile.
After all, dislike was an excellent combat motivator.
And Leonidas loved a good fight.
Rough Concept art of Celia
B1 | Chapter 30: Making Connections via Overwhelming Violence
¡°{As I was saying,}¡± Cerevil continued after accepting Leonidas, and after Celia stepped off to the side to observe with an encouraging nod, ¡°{becoming part of the Adventurer¡¯s Guild requires focus, dedication, honor among party members, the will to overcome any¡}¡±
Leonidas tuned him out and beelined for a seat three rows up to the west beside one of the other new adventurers, a man around his own age with a shock of blond hair, a set of brown leather armor, and a pair of long knives sheathed on his hips.
The young man, who looked to be in his twenties, had waved him down when he¡¯d turned to find somewhere to sit¡ªand a mix of curiosity and laziness had made the choice for him, as opposed to trying to figure out who wasn¡¯t hostile elsewhere.
¡°{...ensure that you are fully equipped, prepared, and ready for whatever may come from your arduous delves and lethal challenges within this new, and still-untamed virgin world¡}¡±
When Leonidas finally sat down, the other man turned to him and flashed a winning smile, complete with pronounced canines not unlike those of a wolf. His eyes were a deep gold beneath his bangs of hair, and held an intensity and focus that wasn¡¯t entirely human.
¡°{Welcome, friend!}¡± the blond greeted him in a cheerful male soprano. ¡°{The name¡¯s Bardulf! I like your armor.}¡±
Leonidas raised his eyebrow at the opening line, though it was hidden beneath his helmet. It came off as a mix between genuine enthusiasm and social obliviousness, which he admittedly found somewhat endearing.
¡°{Kind of you to say.}¡± Leonidas responded with a hidden smile, ¡°{Though I did not think I would be welcomed by anyone, given the other reactions.}¡±
¡°{Oh, don¡¯t mind them,}¡± Bardulf said with a quiet snort, ¡°{they¡¯re just bitter because you¡¯re a recommendation. Most of them are normal aspirants.}¡±
¡°{Are you not?}¡± Leonidas asked immediately and with a glance at the others.
¡°{Nope! My father¡¯s one of the Guild¡¯s Platinum Adventurers.}¡± Bardulf explained with an idle hand-wave toward the distant Guild house. ¡°{We transmigrated with the Incursion, though it wasn¡¯t easy for me to get his approval to join up. He wanted me to be at least level fifteen before I joined.}¡±
At least that gives me some context on the power scaling, Leonidas considered silently, while nodding along to what the other man was saying and looking out at the rest of the potential Adventurers. If they¡¯re all around that level, it means this may be more winnable than I''d suspected.
¡°{Mind if I ask your class?}¡± Bardulf continued, and drew back Leonidas¡¯ attention at the same time.
¡°{Psiarch}¡±, Leonidas answered casually, and while keeping in mind Ceruviel¡¯s words of warning during their trip.
¡°{Tell them your class, but if anyone asks, simply mention it¡¯s a Legacy.}¡±
¡°{A Legacy? Like an inherited class?}¡±
¡°{Precisely,}¡± the Duchess had said with a nod. ¡°{It is far easier to explain its oddity that way, and it diverts any questions about your Alphas. You want as little exposure as possible, and the best lie is the one that never needs to leave your lips.}¡±
¡°{You want me to let them make the assumptions, and just roll with what they come up with?}¡±
¡°{Never confirm, but never deny either.}¡± Ceruviel had clarified firmly. ¡°{An air of disaffected disinterest is best. They will think it does not matter to you, and in turn, assume your Alphas to be of a low or at least uncommon-at-best level. Never show your hand if you do not need to.}¡±
¡°{Just like Poker,}¡± Leonidas murmured.
¡°{Ah, yes.}¡± Ceruviel had said with a grin, ¡°{like Strip Poker, indeed.}¡±
Leonidas had not wanted to know how the Duchess had heard of strip poker, but neither was he surprised. It wasn¡¯t as if she was quiet about her hedonism.
¡°{Psiarch, huh?}¡± the blond asked thoughtfully. ¡°{Is that sort of like a spellblade class with Psi instead of Elemental or Arcane power?}¡±
Leonidas just nodded his head, but didn¡¯t clarify any further. Instead, he used a casual question to divert the discourse.
¡°{What about you? I take it you are some manner of Agility or Dexterity-based class?}¡±
The man grinned at him, and proudly patted his chest.
¡°{I¡¯m a Shadowblade. Being half-Lycanus gave me crazy strong senses, Agility, and Dexterity¡ªso I just leaned into the natural gifts.}¡±
¡°{Lycanus?}¡± Leonidas asked immediately.
¡°{I think people on Terra call them ¡®Wolfmen¡¯? Look like Terrans, but have the traits of what this world calls ¡®Wolves¡¯. Tail, claws, fangs, eyesight, hearing, smell, all that stuff.}¡±
¡°{Huh¡}¡± Leonidas responded thoughtfully, and while looking at Bardulf appraisingly from behind his helmet. ¡°{You are not afraid to be open about your advantages.}¡±
¡°{I know when to share and when not to,}¡± the Shadowblade said with a grin. ¡°{One of my Skills is from an inherited trait called Primal Intuition. It tells me when someone is a threat, or a potential ally. The moment I saw you, it told me you were a potential friend¡ªand I¡¯ve learned to trust it pretty much entirely.}¡±
¡°{That sounds both useful and burdensome,}¡± Leonidas responded after a few moments¡¯ thought. ¡°{It must affect your relationships, too, in ways most people would not understand.}¡±
The other man raised an eyebrow at that, and his canines flashed again in a smile. Leonidas got the distinct impression that his observation, which seemed wholly logical to him given the complexities of sapient interaction, was not a common one Bardulf received.
¡°{Not many people pick up on the downsides,}¡± the other man said in a tone that sounded approving. ¡°{I knew I liked you for a reason, Achilles.}¡±
¡°{You are not so bad yourself, Bardulf.}¡± Leonidas responded with genuine amusement, and turned to look down at Cerevil, who was still speaking about expectations. ¡°{How long until we fight?}¡±
¡°{Well, given the fact that Cerevil finally appears to have exhausted his speechmaking, I¡¯d say we¡¯ll be¡ª}¡±
¡°{Achilles!}¡± Cerevil barked immediately. ¡°{We¡¯ll start alphabetically. You¡¯ll be up first, against Zalaza.}¡±
Leonidas snorted quietly under his helmet, and Bardulf chuckled beside him.
¡°{Good luck!}¡± his new acquaintance said cheerfully.
¡°{Thanks,}¡± Leonidas said simply, and rose from his seat.
To the South, a woman who looked like a mix between a mermaid and an elf¡ªdue to the aquatic fins in place of ears, and small coral-hued scales down her arms and the sides of her face¡ªdescended from the highest seat toward the sandy arena below. Her voice carried when she shared a laughing comment with another of her kind, and Leonidas registered the sound immediately.
She was one of those that had spoken rudely about him at his arrival.
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Leonidas mirrored her movements with his curiosity and analysis hidden beneath his helmet as he descended. Zalaza wore a set of simple leather, cut tight against her petite body, and had a spilling wave of aquamarine hair along her front and back. Her eyes, he noticed when he stepped onto the sand, were large and black¡ªwith no discernible pupil or iris separation.
¡°{Take a position opposite one another,}¡± Cerevil said authoritatively. ¡°{The rules are simple: No killing. Our healers can fix anything less than that, including dismemberment, disembowelment, and gratuitous maiming. You are reminded that an Adventurer is a beacon of honor in a world gone mad, and should act that way at all times!}¡±
A few laughs echoed among the crowd at his words, and Cerevil ignored them.
Leonidas, however, took careful note of that reaction. While the proctor seemed earnest about his statement, it was very likely that it was an expectation the Guild very likely turned a blind eye to outside of truly egregious circumstances. The chances that every member was an upstanding representation of honor were slim to none, and Leonidas kept that in mind.
Besides, the woman had been one of those that had mocked him on arrival.
He wanted to get the match done quickly to keep within Ceruviel¡¯s timeframe, and yet also wanted to test himself against people that were technically his peers. Zalaza provided a unique target for both, given she had already made herself an antagonistic presence.
He intended on disabusing her of the notion he was a ¡®trumped up fop¡¯, as she put it. It was not simply a pride or ego thing, either, but instead an important first impression. The people watching, including Zalaza, were going to be his guild contemporaries for the immediate future. He needed to make a strong impression, in order to guarantee the best possible party with which to Delve.
With that focus in mind, Leonidas took position opposite the woman, and she mirrored him. Twenty feet separated them across the sandy arena, and he immediately breathed out and let himself slip into his Battle Meditation while activating his [Psionic Focus] and targeting her specifically. It was like a mental ¡®target acquisition¡¯ feature, after the Amplifier¡¯s integration, and he felt like he¡¯d ¡®locked on¡¯ like he were in a VRMMO.
¡°{Aspirants ready!}¡± Cerevil barked.
Leonidas extended his right hand and summoned his [Archon¡¯s Psiblade] in a flash of scarlet lightning, which resulted in more than a few surprised mutters and murmurs among the crowd, and inspired a tightening of Zalaza¡¯s expression as well. He could almost feel the trepidation suddenly slithering through the woman¡¯s mind, and infecting some of her confidence while she drew a rapier from her left hip.
Leonidas didn¡¯t, however, choose to activate his [Psionic Swordforce].
He wanted instead to experience what he was up against, using Zalaza as an initial measuring stick. His Swordforce would end the fight far too quickly, if what Ceruviel had said about its rarity and potency held true; which he had no reason to doubt. The Dusk-Lord did not seem like the kind of person who exaggerated her praise, and she had praised him for acquiring the skill.
For the purposes of making his statement however, he let his [Cataclysm Core] rev with purpose in his body. When Leonidas felt his Cataclysm Mana surge through his veins in a tidal wave of power and fury, he sighed out his mild anxiety and smiled with a savage edge beneath his helmet.
There was a dark satisfaction in letting its hunger for destruction ease his restraint, and he banished the voice of warning in his mind in favor of embracing the simplistic, seething fury of his Core¡¯s power.
¡°{Aspirants salute!}¡± Cerevil commanded.
Leonidas snapped his sword up in a salute, and Zalaza lifted her rapier in kind.
His [Cataclysm Core] raged in his body.
¡°{Aspirants¡}¡±
Leonidas assumed a ready stance, blade out and to the right, and his [Psikinetic Shield] skill spinning up in his mind.
¡°{...Begin!}¡±
Leonidas exploded toward Zalaza at the same time as the woman surged toward him, and he knew immediately that she had a foundational advantage in both speed and dexterity. Her approach was almost twice the acceleration of his own, and when she launched her first jab with her rapier, Leonidas couldn¡¯t have parried it if he¡¯d wanted to.
It was a good thing he hadn¡¯t intended to.
[Psikinetic Shield] erupted into life the moment Zalaza stabbed toward him, and her rapier froze in mid-air. Leonidas hadn¡¯t simply blocked her strike¡ªwhich actually had been his intention, if he were being honest¡ªbut had accidentally managed to catch her blade inside the created square of his psionic ability, and frozen it inches from his helmet.
Zalaza stared at her weapon with wide eyes in surprise, and Leonidas¡¯ Core-motivated savagery allowed for no window of mercy.
His right foot snapped up and he promptly slammed his armored boot into her sternum, while releasing the force holding her rapier in place at the same time.
Zalaza managed to bring her arm around to block part of his kick, but cried out in pain when the limb crunched under the impact, and she was thrown backward onto her ass on the sand.
Leonidas lifted his sword the moment she hit the ground and pointed it at her defiantly.
¡°{Get up,}¡± he said simply.
The woman glared up at him, and with a snarl of anger, surged to her feet and tried to once again attack him with a comparatively blindingly fast strike of her rapier. This time, Leonidas leaned on his experiences from Elatra and read the telegraphed nature of her attack before it came. Left foot forward, right shoulder angled low against a taller opponent, and arm tucked against her side.
When the rapier stabbed at his gorget, Leonidas¡¯ psiblade was there to parry it away¡ªand the moment he did, much to Zalaza¡¯s surprise, he subsequently stepped forward and slammed his fist into her face.
Another crunch followed the impact, and the woman cursed out in pain. Her footing, staggered already by the sand, suffered from her sudden disorientation¡ªand her ass hit the sand again.
Leonidas lifted his sword and pointed it once more.
¡°{Get up,}¡± he repeated coldly.
Zalaza surged to her feet with a scream of anger when he spoke, and with movements that were not unlike those of a drunk, attempted to slash and stab at him with furious abandon.
Leonidas let himself sink into the rhythm of the fight and his [Archon¡¯s Psiblade] hummed in approval when he used it to parry or block her wild swings. While Zalaza¡¯s speed was superior to his, her strength was barely even at best, and Leonidas found that he had already learned a great deal from the conflict. Min-maxing seemed like it was alive and well within the System, and the mer-elf was a perfect example of that.
She was fast as the wind, but lacked the power to withstand a direct contest.
Very likely she would serve as a harrying or ambushing force in any party she joined, though it certainly wouldn¡¯t be Leonidas¡¯ own. The wild and unexpert nature of her swings told him she¡¯d lost her composure too easily, and the lack of anything resembling actual form told him she relied purely on her speed to make up for half-assed training.
If Miranda had seen such sloppy bladework, she¡¯d have beaten the woman to a pulp with her own hands.
Leonidas dodged back from a wide-angled slash at his gorget, sidestepped a stab at his ribs, and slapped aside a second stab at his visor. When Zalaza lifted her left hand, and started generating a fist full of what looked like Ice, he responded by stepping into her guard and throwing a knee at her stomach.
The woman was forced to snap her hand down and instead generate a small block of ice to stop the attack, which jarred Leonidas¡¯ knee.
At the same time, however, he took advantage of her distraction¡ªand his psiblade-wielding fist crashed into her face again.
This time, Zalaza let out a truly haunted shriek of agony when he cracked her teeth.
The sound of her pain almost made Leonidas hesitate.
Deeply ingrained and far older chivalric lessons from his time in the South very nearly stayed his hand, and almost pushed him to apologize for the hit. He came to the cusp of it, and then a mix of his Elatran memories of Miranda, the specter of Ceruviel¡¯s glare, and his Cataclysm Mana¡¯s raging tide murdered the thought before it could be converted to action.
He¡¯d killed women before. The Tainted hadn¡¯t magically all been male.
And not every enemy he faced had the decency to adhere to his enlightened Earthling cultural sensibilities. In a world of cultivation, women were as dangerous as men in every way that counted¡ªand Leonidas had learned that lesson through blood, pain, and sacrifice over the course of five years.
So when Zalaza staggered and tried to reorient herself, he didn¡¯t hesitate.
Leonidas stepped forward, pivoted off of his left foot, and slammed home a roundhouse kick against the woman¡¯s ribs.
The crunch that followed inspired another snarl from the mer-elf.
Zalaza slammed into the sand with a dull thud, and another cry of pain.
Leonidas stepped forward, and simply pointed his blade at her again.
¡°{Get up.}¡±
Extremely Rough Concept art of Leonidas in Armor, as Requested
B1 | Chapter 31: Firepower
Leonidas sighed when Zalaza hit the sand for the sixth time, and glanced over at Cerevil. For all that his raging mana sang, cajoled, and demanded that Leonidas tear her apart¡ªthere was a limit to his taste for brutality against someone whose only crime had been pettiness. The first three times he¡¯d knocked her down had largely deflated the mer-elf¡¯s capacity to provide a challenge, and at the current stage of their bout he had gone from fighting her to simply battering her.
It was inordinately one-sided.
Cerevil seemed to notice as well, because the Guild officiant stepped forward into the arena and looked at Zalaza¡¯s struggling form with a mix of pity and consideration. ¡°{Do you wish to continue, Aspirant Zalaza?}¡±
¡°{Yes! I can still f-fight!}¡± Zalaza rasped around a mouthful of blood from Leonidas¡¯ last kick to her abused sternum.
Leonidas sighed when Cerevil turned to him with a grimace.
¡°{She wishes to continue,}¡± Cerevil stated stoically.
¡°{You know how this will end,}¡± Leonidas replied flatly.
¡°{Nevertheless, she has made her choice. As an aspiring Guild member, you must honor her courage.}¡±
¡°{Then I will end it,}¡± Leonidas said curtly, and turned away from the Haelfenn proctor.
Zalaza pulled herself to her feet at his approach, and Leonidas looked down at her from behind his helmet.
¡°{Yield,}¡± he said with no real expectation of compliance. ¡°{I will only offer once.}¡±
In response, Zalaza rose to her feet unsteadily, and raised her rapier in front of her.
¡°{I will ne¡ª}¡±
Leonidas thrust forward with his Psiblade the moment she started to speak, and rammed it home into her gut.
Quiet gasps of shock echoed from the stand, and he heard more than one person shouting for a healer or intercession when he did. Nothing happened, however, and Leonidas frowned grimly under his helmet.
Had they all so easily forgotten what Cerevil had said? Anything short of death, including dismemberment or disembowelment, was allowed.
Zalaza vomited bluish blood and bile, and the frantic voices in the crowd pitched upward in hysteria. Still Cerevil did nothing, and neither did any of the other Guild officiants¡ªincluding Celia.
¡°{Next time,}¡± Leonidas said softly, ¡°{take the surrender.}¡±
Before Zalaza could do more than to stare at him with glazed eyes, Leonidas shifted his grip and tore the blade out of her left¡ªhis right¡ªside in a spray of gore and viscera. Screams tore from the throats of several watching members of the crowd, and Leonidas heard others among them vomit loudly in response to the sight, and much to the annoyance of their contemporaries.
¡°{Mender!}¡± Cerevil called with remarkable steadiness after Leonidas stepped back. ¡°{We need a Mender!}¡±
One of the green-uniformed elves at the edge of the arena was already running forward, and Leonidas re-summoned his sword to his hand while he turned and walked back toward the stands. The blood that had stained it moments earlier vanished when he did, and it reappeared in his hand as if the stains had never happened.
It was a useful trick of the summoning, and one that made keeping the sword clean relatively simple. Once it was back in hand, he sheathed it on his right hip and ascended the stairs to rejoin Bardulf.
Eyes followed him while he walked, and nobody was laughing this time. When he reached the Shadowblade and sat down, the blond turned to him with an appraising and wary look, and Leonidas simply shrugged in response.
¡°{She would not yield.}¡±
¡°{As I saw,}¡± Bardulf confirmed slowly. ¡°{Though your particular act of telling her to get up was¡}¡±
¡°{A show,}¡± Leonidas said quietly. ¡°{One that worked. I have no time for this trial to drag on, and now they will see what I am like as an opponent. Many of the Aspirants here have never seen true death.}¡±
His eyes moved across the crowd and settled on the mer-elf, who was still alive, though the Mender seemed to be working overtime with warm green light and applications of a Health Potion to keep her that way.
¡°{You think some of them will drop out, rather than face you?}¡± Bardulf queried.
¡°{No. I think some of them will drop out rather than risk the same result against anyone including me,}¡± Leonidas clarified. ¡°{It is one thing to lose, but to be so thoroughly handled will shatter their confidence. Many of them cannot face the prospect of that pain nor that defeat psychologically, and I doubt I am the only one here to be feared.}¡±
Leonidas turned his head when he said it, and fixed his gaze on the woman that looked like she was Sinalthria¡¯s younger sibling, seated in the stands to the right of their own. The redhead, it turned out, was staring right back at him¡ªand when she saw him turn toward her, her burning golden eyes narrowed and her lips curled downward into a frown.
Leonidas raised his eyebrows under his helmet at her expression.
¡°{Ah.}¡± Bardulf said with a wry chuckle, ¡°{I see you¡¯ve caught the attention of the Guild¡¯s Princess.}¡±
¡°{Princess?}¡± Leonidas asked without taking his eyes off the redhead.
¡°{You didn¡¯t know?}¡± Bardulf asked with a laugh. ¡°{Oh, my friend, that woman right there? That is Sinalthria¡¯s daughter, Synthra.}¡±
¡°{I see,}¡± Leonidas said while matching gazes with the disapproving redhead. ¡°{I can see the resemblance, at least.}¡±
There was no lie in that statement, of course. Though Synthra lacked the overt scales and more draconic features her mother held, the pair of golden horns topping her head were matched by a body that men would walk into walls for, which was very much in keeping with what he recalled of Sinalthria.
The overall effect of her beauty was only enhanced by her attire; a set of crimson robes that flattered her figure, and which were gilded by golden adornments for pauldrons, vambraces, and the lining of her robe.
¡°{She may look nice to the eyes, friend Achilles, but that is not the kind of temptation you want to risk. Synthra¡¯s every bit her mother¡¯s daughter, and she¡¯s brutalized plenty who¡¯ve mistaken her pride of appearance for a a salacious invitation.}¡±
¡°{Noted,}¡± Leonidas said seriously, though he didn¡¯t take his eyes off of Synthra. There was something about the woman, beyond her shining topaz eyes or the way her faintly sunkissed skin seemed unreasonably smooth, which trapped his attention. It wasn¡¯t lust, nor desire¡ªthough she was both beautiful and alluring. There was something else about Synthra that Leonidas couldn¡¯t name, a quality that kept his focus and stole his attention from everything else.
It was like he was missing something in plain sight, and couldn¡¯t figure it out.
¡°{Ah. It looks like they¡¯ve finally sorted poor Zalaza out,}¡± Bardulf said from beside him. ¡°{Quite a number you did on that one. The ¡®get up¡¯ performance was very appropriately menacing.}¡±
The redhead turned away when Bardulf spoke, and directed her gaze back toward the arena floor with an air of contemptuous dismissal. Leonidas let his own linger for a moment longer, and then with a twinge of regret turned back to the arena as well, where Zalaza was being assisted out of the ring by a pair of staffers.
¡°{Looks like we¡¯re going to continue!}¡± Bardulf said cheerfully, and rubbed his hands together in anticipation.
As if hearing him, Cerevil spoke.
¡°{The matches will continue! I will¡ª}¡±
¡°{Hold on! You have to punish that motherless bastard!}¡± One of Zalaza¡¯s mer-elf companions said, while standing and pointing angrily at Leonidas. ¡°{That brute ravaged her! This cannot stand, proctor! There must be¡ª}¡±
¡°{The rules clearly stated that anything but death was permitted,}¡± Cerevil cut across her firmly. ¡°{Aspirant Achilles offered Aspirant Zalaza the right to surrender, and she refused it. The consequences of that refusal spoke for themselves.}¡±
¡°{But that¡¯s¡ª!}¡±
¡°{Did you think this was a game?}¡± Cerevil asked in a harsher voice. ¡°{Did you think this would be a simple matter of idle sparring and amusing exchanges? This is a Trial of Worth! This is an Adventurer Guild License Test!}¡± Cerevil¡¯s gaze swept over the stands, and Leonidas shifted his eyes to take in the reactions of the observers.
There were some, like Bardulf, Synthra, and himself who were visibly excited, bored, or unreadable in that order¡ªbut so too were there many that suddenly looked nervous, and perhaps more than a little uncertain.
Leonidas looked back down at Cerevil when the elf resumed speaking, and he smiled at what he discerned was happening.
¡°{There is no room out there, in the wilds, for cowardice! If you do not have the stomach to continue, then announce your surrender when I call on you. You will give your place to your opponents, and we can only pray that they, in turn, do not prove to be as weak-willed as those of you that thought the Adventurer¡¯s Guild¡ª}¡± he emphasized the words with a growl ¡°{¡ªinduction would be a walk through the grove!}¡±
Cerevil¡¯s right hand raised, and he slammed his armored fist into his breastplate while he continued.
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¡°{Adventurers deal with life and death every single day that they leave the safety of Dawnhaven¡¯s walls, and if you are not prepared for that responsibility, then it is better for us and everyone else that you be honest about it! Preferably before you run screaming from combat, and leave your Party to die!}¡±
¡°{How cunning,}¡± Leonidas said with a chuckle. ¡°{Cerevil used me to cull the ranks.}¡±
¡°{Ah¡}¡± Bardulf said with a sound of realization, and a subsequent grin. ¡°{How cheeky of him.}¡±
¡°{It makes perfect sense, though, does it not?}¡± Leonidas continued with a nod around at the stands nearby. ¡°{What he says is true, after all. These are the peers we will look to for the formation of parties during Delves. It stands to reason that the Guild would want to maximize potential survivability, especially with how new the Incursion is.}¡±
Bardulf let out a hum of agreement, but didn¡¯t speak, due in large part to Cerevil continuing.
¡°{Now! We have our next match. Alexander against William!}¡±
¡°{I up give! I up give!}¡± one of the named men, a young human¡ªlikely a native, from Leonidas¡¯ interpretation of his clumsy Haelfennyr¡ªwith brown hair said immediately. ¡°{I no fight. Back next time!}¡±
Leonidas shook his head at the teen¡¯s overt cowardice, and then caught himself.
It was easy for him to dismiss the comparative child, after five years fighting the forces of Hell¡ªbut would he have truly been so different were roles reversed? Could he throw the brand of cowardice on another, instead of recognizing the courage it took to admit you were in over your head?
If more had been like him on Elatra, he thought to himself silently, there would have been far fewer losses, and far fewer grieving families.
When the jeering started, Leonidas turned his armored head to glance across the stands, and then promptly spoke up.
¡°Good on you for knowing your limits!¡± he proclaimed clearly, loudly, and firmly. ¡°I say this with sincerity: it is a fool that walks into danger, knowing he is unprepared to face it. It is a courageous man that admits when he is weak, and strives to better himself and prepare for the task at hand.¡±
Leonidas felt a flush of embarrassment fill his cheeks at his impromptu speech, and he heard Bardulf holding back laughter at his side, but soldiered on. It had to be said, and even if he sounded like he was indulging in the LARP his damned parents had named him for, he knew it was the right thing to do.
¡°Failing to prepare is preparing to fail and you, friend, have avoided that common error! Well done, I say, and shame on the rest of you that cannot see his wherewithal for the valuable insight it is!¡±
Leonidas promptly sat down after that, and a ripple of murmurs spread through the assembled, with several of them snorting in derision at what he said.
¡°{...a self-righteous blowhard¡}¡±
¡°...melodramatic loser, dude, what the f¡¡±
¡°{...believe he¡¯s so full of himself¡}¡±
¡°...commander roleplay over there¡¡±
¡°{Don¡¯t let them get to you, Achilles.}¡± Bardulf said bracingly, while the boy who¡¯d called out his surrender settled back into his seat, and gave Achilles a nod of thanks and an awkward wave of his hand as well. ¡°{They know you¡¯re right, it¡¯s just hard to admit it. Trust me, I get¡ª}¡±
¡°{Achilles spoke the truth,}¡± Cerevil cut in and silenced the dissenting crowd. {¡°Perhaps out of turn, but the truth nonetheless: this path is not for the ill-prepared. Courage alone will not let you survive the perils of an Adventurer¡¯s life, and you must be aware of your own limitations.}¡±
The elf turned toward the brown-haired boy, and gave him a bracing thumbs up¡ªclearly something he¡¯d learned from the natives, given how weirdly awkward its delivery was. ¡°{William may have chosen to surrender, but he did so in full awareness of his own limits and that, Aspirants, is the mark of a good Adventurer.}¡±
Silence followed Cerevil¡¯s words and Leonidas observed the stands for the reactions. Expressions ranged between thoughtful, bored, considering, and even worried while he looked around, and he wondered whom it was that would break first.
Thankfully, he didn¡¯t have to wait long.
¡°{I withdraw for this round!}¡± A pretty blonde said in his own set of stands from behind him.
¡°{Me as well!}¡± A black-haired Haelfenn declared in the stands opposite.
¡°I withdraw!¡± One of the only other Terrans called out nervously.
¡°{And I, too, withdraw!}¡± A cultured looking gentleman with cat-like features declared solemnly. ¡°{At least for this year.}¡±
Several more voices joined the rest, and Leonidas resisted the urge to chuckle. It certainly made his life easier to not have to sit through pointless bouts, but there was something to be said for too many people dropping as well.
Of the close to fifty that occupied the stands, less than thirty remained in contention after all was said and done. There were less than thirty matches remaining as a result, even while including the very likely winner versus winner rounds, where before there had likely been close to sixty.
Cerevil was silent as if tallying after all the surrenders, and then finally spoke when he seemed to be done.
¡°{Your surrenders are noted, and your self-awareness does you credit.}¡± The elf nodded firmly around the stands, and then let out a sigh. ¡°{Now, back to business! For the next match for the remaining Aspirants, we will have¡ Balthazar against Synthra!}¡±
Leonidas raised his eyebrows, and Bardulf sagged in the seat beside him.
¡°{I was worried I¡¯d have to fight her!}¡± the Shadowblade said with notable relief.
¡°{Are we really out of any names starting with something before ¡®S¡¯?}¡± Leonidas asked in genuine surprise, and blinked when a massive Orc hit the sands after jumping from the stands. He was wearing massive plates of reinforced steel, and wielded one of the largest axes Leonidas had ever seen. The big green bastard had to have been easily over seven feet tall, too.
¡°{There were a lot of surrenders,}¡± Bardulf said with a shrug and no further questioning. ¡°{This match should be good, though. Balthazar¡¯s been making a name for himself in the pre-show games at the Arena. He may give the Princess a run for her money.}¡±
Leonidas¡¯ eyes moved to look at Synthra at the same time as Bardulf spoke, and he watched the redhead languidly stride to the steps of her seats¡ªher entire row was deserted, he noticed immediately¡ªand descend them amid the movements of her silken attire. The red fabric swished with each movement of her generously toned legs, and bared enough skin with each step to almost be distracting.
That was very likely a tactic, Leonidas noted to himself. It was easy to underestimate an opponent that seemed vulnerable, exposed, or otherwise superficial. There was always the possibility Synthra was simply an exhibitionist, but he suspected differently.
The woman seemed far too cold for that.
When she reached the Arena, Synthra took up position opposite the orc, and the material of her clothing fell into a more conservative pattern of obfuscation, veiling her body all the way down to her golden sandals.
¡°{Mobility,}¡± Leonidas said suddenly. ¡°{She wanted mobility.}¡±
¡°{What?}¡± Bardulf asked at his side.
¡°{Just watch,}¡± Leonidas said while shaking his armored head.
¡°{Aspirants ready!}¡± Cerevil called loudly once both Synthra and Balthazar had taken position.
Balthazar hefted his immense greataxe and held it up before him in a two-handed grip, while settling his weight into a low stance. Synthra extended her right hand, and pulled what looked like an elaborate cruciform sword-hilt from her waist. A moment later, a conflagration of fire erupted from its length and formed into a thick and radiant broadsword.
Despite being made of flames, it maintained its shape with perfect adherence.
¡°{Aspirants salute!}¡± Cerevil barked at them both.
Balthazar lifted his greataxe high in salute, and Synthra snapped her firesword up in a pose-perfect salute, which strangely seemed entirely sincere. Despite her air of haughty disinterest or cold superiority, there seemed to be a genuine belief in the honor of what was to happen when Synthra gave her respect to Balthazar.
Leonidas filed that away.
¡°{Aspirants begin!}¡±
Balthazar erupted forward with an air-shaking roar the moment that Cerevil gave the command, and moved with respectable speed despite his immense size. The armored orc swung his greataxe overhead and, with a veteran¡¯s accuracy, slashed down toward Synthra in a clear desire to bisect the woman at the waist.
Except Synthra was already gone before the greataxe made contact.
The redhead¡¯s silks fluttered around her body while she smoothly danced away from the descending weapon toward Balthazar¡¯s rear, and scored two red-hot lines of damage on Balthazar¡¯s rib armor for his trouble while she passed.
The orc roared again and turned, attacking her with a backswing that used the flat of his weapon¡¯s head like a bludgeon.
Synthra bent backward with incredible control to let the greataxe pass her by, and thrust her left hand outward. A jet of compressed flame erupted from her palm, and she boosted away from the inevitable return swing to flank Balthazar¡¯s back side once again.
Another pair of slashes crossed the back of his cuirass, and the orc howled at the stench of his own skin burning under the superheated plate.
¡°{I didn''t suspect she¡¯d be an Agility type,}¡± Bardulf said with interest.
¡°{She is not,}¡± Leonidas said while focusing on the fight. ¡°{Not even close.}¡±
¡°{What do you mean?}¡±
¡°{Just watch,}¡± Leonidas said simply.
Balthazar staggered around in the sand to try to find Synthra, and the redhead dodged nimbly away each time he did, and left another line of heat on his body with every movement. The pair were less fighting, and more playing a delicate balance: Synthra only needed to take one hit for it to do extreme damage, but Balthazar needed to land that hit¡ªand that, so far, was proving unfeasible for the orc.
¡°Gorok nik var¡¯thos!¡± Balthazar bellowed abruptly, and discharged a wave of brown mana into the sand. The moment he did, it caused the grains around Synthra¡¯s feet to suddenly snap together into a prison from one second to the next.
Leonidas¡¯ eyes narrowed, and Bardulf cheered beside him.
The look on Synthra¡¯s face, however, told him the result was already decided.
The redhead, for all her elegant movement, was bored.
Balthazar lifted his greataxe to swing, and Synthra raised her left hand.
¡°{Fourth Draconic Art,}¡± she said in a voice that was one part sultry sorceress, one part cold noblewoman while staring up at the descending greataxe, ¡°{Infernokill Pyrebloom.}¡±
Synthra snapped her fingers.
Balthazar didn¡¯t have time to do more than grunt in surprise.
A sudden whine of noise filled the air, each of the burning sword-strokes on the orc¡¯s armor flashed white, and then a pillar of flame consumed the towering warrior in an explosion of power. A blast wave hit the stands with thunder and force, and Leonidas felt himself pushed back in his seat by the expulsion of primordial fury.
Balthazar screamed in a voice that was far too like a towering pig for Leonidas¡¯ liking, and he heard cries of terror echo across the stands as others felt both the force and the heat behind the attack.
Synthra, meanwhile, simply extricated herself from the sand and dismissed her flaming blade with casual disinterest. She turned away as the flames cut out, and Balthazar collapsed onto his back with an echoing boom of impact.
His armor had been scorched, his axehead had melted, and his flesh¡ªwhere it was visible¡ªhad been blistered and cracked. Interestingly, the sand below the orc had turned to glass¡ªwhich implied, at least to Leonidas, that Synthra¡¯s actual power had been held back.
¡°{Mender! Summon the Menders!}¡± Cerevil shouted, while staring at the ruined remains of the orc. ¡°{Summon a Mender!}¡±
Most importantly, though, the orc was still alive. Leonidas could tell from the subtle glow of his mind, which had yet to fade. That inferred something even more worrisome about the buxom redhead sorceress: she was perfectly in control of how much damage she had dealt. If she had wanted to kill the orc, the glassed sand and melted weapon was proof enough she could have.
While the Menders attended to the now-spasming orc, Leonidas followed Synthra while she languidly made her way back to the stands, and nobody would meet her gaze.
The Guild Princess¡¯ topaz gaze turned to him, and their eyes locked for a moment.
The message in her stare seemed simple enough to understand.
You¡¯re next.
Rough Concept Art of Synthra
B1 | Chapter 32: For Humanity
¡°The Cataclysm is the only thing that matters!¡±
Artur Paendrag¡¯s voice thundered within the meeting chamber at the heart of the Humanity Alliance¡¯s capitol building in Austin, Texas. Once the seat of the state¡¯s government, it had become the beating heart of the Humanity Alliance and its efforts to preserve a world against the incursions of aliens, mutants, and beasts.
¡°We can spare no effort in locating, and ending this threat before it metastasizes into something beyond our ability to address!¡± Artur continued from his position at what was once the speaker¡¯s seat, and now represented the ostensibly elected position of the Alliance¡¯s President.
¡°Victory goes to those with the courage to seize the day, my fellow Senators, and we cannot allow the Coalition, the Nomads, or any other faction to gain control of the resources on offer!¡±
¡°It¡¯s only 20,000 Aetherium,¡± one of the civilian senators objected skeptically. ¡°Is it really worth¡ª?¡±
¡°Only 20,000 Aetherium, Senator Hayes?¡± one of Artur¡¯s fellow Generals interrupted with cold fury. ¡°It¡¯s precisely that sort of wealth which allows those hellspawned aliens to manifest their damned Castles and Fortresses, and all the defenses that go with them!¡±
¡°Not to mention the gear, equipment, special supplies, elixirs, and crafting facilities,¡± Gwendolyn cut in from the same side of the chamber. ¡°Artur and I saw one such city recently, I might remind you, and its soldiers very nearly threatened our lives! If we cannot find a way to accrue a vast sum of Aetherium, and quickly; the Alliance will begin to falter. Our momentum has already been stymied by the Coalition, and if they get their hands on these resources¡¡±
¡°I see,¡± Hayes said with a tight expression, and a glance at Artur, who met his eyes coldly. ¡°I suppose I may have underestimated the importance of this¡ Quest, then.¡±
¡°That is one way of putting it, Senator,¡± Artur said in a voice as cold as his gaze. ¡°And it is indeed reassuring to see you so willing to listen to logic and reason when it is presented.¡±
¡°I am only concerned about the cost of this expedition, Mr President. We have already sacrificed much for this conflict, and¡ª¡±
¡°I would remind you¡ª¡± Artur cut across him harshly ¡°¡ªthat the ¡®conflict¡¯ you speak of is the very survival of mankind itself. You were not there when the Alliance was formed, Senator Hayes, but you have benefitted from the rivers of blood we shed to secure its creation regardless.¡±
The Senator¡¯s expression flickered with annoyance, and Artur felt an old anger boiling up within him: the same anger he¡¯d felt at politicians, suits, and other such unworthy cowards that had sent men like him to die while they lined their pockets. It was the same rage he¡¯d felt, down to his very core, when he¡¯d learned that the wars he¡¯d taken bullets in had been little more than politically expedient favors for his government¡¯s less-than-savory partners.
¡°Do you have something to say to me, Senator?¡± Artur asked with as much self-control as he could muster.
¡°Only that I think perhaps it is time to consider that, despite our best intentions, this conflict is no longer in the best interests of the Alliance¡¯s people. I would caution gainst overcommitting to further use of force, Mr. President, until we can be better aware of the fiscal situation moving forward.¡±
In Artur¡¯s mind, Hayes¡¯ head exploded in a detonation of viscera and brain matter before he could finish, and the Senator¡¯s lifeless body ragdolled into the floor from the force of the impact.
In reality, he swallowed back his desire to murder the traitorous little rat and forced himself to calm.
¡°Is that the judgment of your peers as well, Senator?¡± Artur asked with as much outward professionalism as he could muster.
¡°It is,¡± the Senator said boldly. ¡°It has been a matter of some concern among the Civilian Sector of the Alliance for some time, and we owe it to our constituents to question the veracity of the need for endless war.¡±
The Senator¡¯s voice gained confidence the more he spoke, and Artur quietly tightened his grip around the hilt of the dagger on his hip while the little weasel continued.
¡°The Coalition has clearly managed to coexist with the Fantasies, and while integration may indeed never be an option; the idea of mutual coexistence within separate borders should be discussed.¡±
¡°Is that all you wish to put forth, Senator Hayes?¡± Artur asked while the hilt of his knife groaned under his grip, and almost demanded to be used against the cowardly, low-leveled rodent.
¡°There is another consideration,¡± Hayes said with clearly inflated confidence.
¡°By all means,¡± Artur replied curtly.
¡°I think a long-delayed removal of the emergency powers granted to you by this body should also be considered, Mr. President.¡± Hayes said boldly, and while raising his chin against the sudden growls and slamming fists echoing from the military side, and speaking louder. ¡°You have served humanity with distinction and valor in the nightmare following the Incursion, but you are a soldier¡ªand like the founding fathers of the United States understood: Governance is better left to the people themselves, so that brave men and women like you may continue to defend us against whatever threats rear their heads.¡±
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¡°Treason!¡± one of Artur¡¯s Generals roared.
¡°You sniveling rat!¡± another snarled.
Gwendolyn even went so far as to raise her lance with a murderous gleam to her eyes, and that was when Artur slapped his hands together.
The echoing BOOM from the impact of his palms silenced everything, and he looked out over the assembled¡ªready military and suddenly terrified civilians¡ªand spoke far more calmly than he felt.
¡°Senator Hayes is within his rights to express his beliefs,¡± Artur said while carefully controlling his seething rage, and the desire to slaughter the suited coward where he stood. ¡°We must respect the sanctity of this house of Democracy, as our forefathers would have wanted. Freedom of speech is, after all, an enshrined liberty both in the United States Constitution that came before, and the Alliance Charter of Liberties that we built in its image.¡±
Senators on both sides seemed to calm when he spoke, and Artur fixed his gaze on Hayes¡ªwho looked back at him with a glint of self-congratulating defiance in his eyes, as if he hadn¡¯t been spared from becoming a viscera stain by Artur¡¯s own magnanimity.
Establishing two branches of governance for the Alliance had been a clever idea, designed to borrow the image of what had once been the Texas State Legislature to ease the concerns of citizens within the Alliance¡¯s controlled territories. It served its purpose well enough, too, and allowed for a much stronger claim to the inheritance of the American Dream, Liberty, and Democracy that Artur had sworn to defend for the majority of his adult life.
The cruel realities of the nightmare they lived in, however, meant that true surrender of power to cowards in suits was the opposite of what could be allowed¡ªand Artur had made damn sure that his officers and fellow Martial Senators agreed with him in totality. Dissent would come only from the civilians, when it came to the war, and they were in lockstep when it came to what had to be done.
Mankind needed to not only survive, but to thrive.
For that to happen, there could never be peace with the aliens that threatened to erase their identity and sought to colonize their world. The United States of America may have been stripped of its weapons, its technology, and even its unity with remarkable and even heartbreaking swiftness¡ªbut the Alliance served as a beacon in the darkness for all humans, regardless of creed or race, that sought shelter from the darkness assailing them.
It was Artur¡¯s privilege to be the leader, shepherd, and vanguard of that guarantee. He was not about to surrender it because some trumped up boy with a nice suit and delusions of grandeur quoted Washington at him.
¡°We will adjourn while the Senators are allowed time to consider your words at length, Senator Hayes,¡± Artur said into the silence that followed, ¡°and remain adjourned for the remainder of the session. The War Council and I will also meet to discuss a plan of action, in order to present it to the floor, and come up with a certain strategy for dealing with the Cataclysm, and Sector 117.¡±
¡°That is acceptable, Mr. President,¡± Hayes said with a gracious nod, as if giving permission. Artur¡¯s hand moved before he could impulsively draw his knife, and he instead seized the weathered gavel from nearby. A moment of self-control followed, and he thumped the gavel against the waiting wood. ¡°Session adjourned!¡±
The Senators within the chamber shuffled out immediately, with an entire cluster forming around Hayes, and baying their praise like a gaggle of idiotic donkeys celebrating a hay bale delivery in the dead of winter.
Artur watched them go while his War Council¡ªincluding his wife¡ªmade their way to where he stood with his hands braced on the lectern. Only when the remainder of the unneeded Senators had departed did anyone speak, and that was only for the General of Magical Warfare to create a bubble against eavesdropping.
¡°We should kill them all,¡± Elijah, his black-bearded and swarthy second in command said immediately. ¡°Hayes is a cancer, Artur. He¡¯s a remnant of the old world, and worse, he¡¯s a sympathizer.¡±
¡°Elijah¡¯s right,¡± Collette, the leader of their Warmenders, said flatly. ¡°He should be excised as soon as possible. He¡¯s going to foment more and more dissent until he is.¡±
¡°We can¡¯t just murder him after that session, closed or not,¡± Gwendolyn said with a sigh. ¡°It would be far too obvious, and immediately incur suspicion. We need a more nuanced solution.¡±
¡°So we don¡¯t do it,¡± Ricardo, their Director of Intelligence, said coolly. The man had been CIA before the Incursion, and had signed on to preserve Humanity with ruthless enthusiasm. ¡°We fabricate an assassination¡ªpublicly¡ªby the very creatures he so desperately wants us to coexist with. A few Orcs butchering him and his allies in public should send the message.¡±
¡°How do we achieve that?¡± Elijah questioned gruffly. ¡°Austin is fortified, and the Dungeons are controlled.¡±
¡°The Border Tour,¡± Ricardo said in the same coolly calculated tone. ¡°We intended on visiting the borders with the Coalition soon, in order to project strength. Why don¡¯t we turn it into a partial diplomatic envoy to seek overtures of peace?¡±
¡°And how does that translate to a dead Hayes?¡± Malcom, the General of Magical Warfare himself, asked quietly.
¡°I will take care of that,¡± Ricardo promised him. ¡°I have enough prisoners in the Black Sites we took over, and more than a few have been craving an honorable death. With your help creating a short-range jump-gate, we can outfit the Orcs in Coalition gear and make it look like they were going for Artur, and mistimed their jump. We¡¯ll be separated enough that it will take time to get there, and I¡¯ll make sure the animals are juiced enough that Hayes won¡¯t live long enough to be saved.¡±
¡°It has a lot of failure points,¡± Gwendolyn muttered, ¡°and we don¡¯t have the resources the CIA did.¡±
¡°I can handle the preparation,¡± Ricardo assured her. ¡°I just need time, and permission.¡±
All eyes turned to Artur, and he sighed deeply.
The Iron Duke, they¡¯d called him, after he¡¯d taken over Three Rivers as his own. The System had recognized his claim, and pronounced him a Duke in its own qualification of power. The name had been emblazoned since then. The Iron part, well, that was because of his particular gifts.
¡°Do it,¡± Artur said finally. ¡°Hayes is a problem, and one we can¡¯t afford to be dealing with. The Cataclysm must be the priority. If we let my fool son or mad granddaughter seize it, they¡¯ll both use it to cut away swathes of our control.¡±
¡°And if we seize the reward,¡± Gwendolyn said hopefully, ¡°perhaps we can finally show our family the error of their ways, once we have the strength to force them to listen.¡±
¡°And we can bring back our grandson,¡± Artur agreed, ¡°and wipe out those knife-eared bastards that took him.¡±
Growls of agreement followed at that, and Artur nodded to his council.
¡°We have our plan,¡± the Iron Duke declared. ¡°Now let¡¯s see it done, and take another step toward taking back our home.¡± He raised his right fist. ¡°For Humanity!¡±
¡°For Humanity!¡± his comrades echoed.
B1 | Chapter 33: Top Eight
Leonidas watched Bardulf¡¯s match with interest as it played out.
The Shadowblade opted for speed and guile over outright strength, but when he did strike, he did so with shocking levels of power. Where Zalaza truly had minimized her other attributes in favor of maximizing speed and dexterity; Bardulf had taken a far more balanced approach to his attribute dispersion¡ªand it showed in his combat.
When his enemy, another armored orc smaller than Synthra and wielding a pair of hand-axes, sought to press the attack against the Shadowblade; he simply evaded each attack within an inch of its landing. Bardulf forewent fancy demonstrations of skill in favor of focusing on examples of exacting calculation, and the moment that his enemy left an opening, he struck.
Both the blond man¡¯s knives flashed like the claws of a wolf, and the magical shadows suffusing them pierced the orc¡¯s unenchanted plate like it were butter. Blood never flew, but it did pump¡ªand within two minutes of combat, the orc was all but spent.
Bardulf, meanwhile, was breathing hard but looking strong. The man had understood the necessity of the bout, and his stamina conservation had been remarkably well-done. All unnecessary movement had been eliminated, inasmuch as it could be by a relatively inexperienced fighter, and Leonidas found himself impressed by the other man¡¯s tenacity.
Bardulf had not used showboating nor grandiose displays of magic or skill to win his round; he¡¯d simply played to more subtle strengths, timed his movements, and let his enemy wear themself down.
When the match ended, it did so with Bardulf¡¯s right blade against the orc¡¯s neck, and his left poised to puncture the other Aspirant¡¯s kidneys. The orc finally, and exhaustedly admitted his defeat, and Bardulf¡ªin true him fashion, Leonidas was starting to believe¡ªactually spent time commiserating with the orc on his loss and discussing the fight with him from start to finish.
He gave him advice, shook hands, and left.
Somehow, he¡¯d turned defeating the warrior into a friendship.
When Bardulf returned to his seat, Leonidas lifted a hand in congratulations.
¡°{You won that well,}¡± he said truthfully. ¡°{There was very little tension in the fight, but it made it more enjoyable for me. How did you grow so talented with your skills and weapons at only First Tier?}¡±
¡°{I¡¯m a Legacy, remember?}¡± Bardulf grinned, and rubbed his forefinger over his nose in thought. ¡°{My father¡¯s been training me since I was a pup.}¡±
¡°{I assumed something to that effect, but I did not want to take it as fact without confirmation.}¡±
¡°{You¡¯re a very cautious person, Achilles.}¡± Bardulf observed with a laugh.
¡°{Only with some things,}¡± Leonidas replied wryly. ¡°{In others, I can be downright impulsive.}¡±
He thought about his agreement to Apprentice under Ceruviel, and a self-effacing smile took hold over his features. Yeah, impulsive was definitely the right word for some of his decision-making. A mix of gut instinct, the tides of reality, and simple pragmatism had dictated his choices¡ªbut when the only alternative to some of those choices, no matter how ¡®fate-touched¡¯ they seemed, was death; total agency wasn¡¯t an option.
He was just glad he¡¯d scored a strong Mentor for his troubles.
He would need her help if he was going to achieve his Ambition, and build a sanctuary for his family.
The complicated nature of what he¡¯d observed between his relatives filled his mind, and he only half-watched the remaining matches while thinking them over. His grandfather was the most extreme of all his relatives, but he wasn¡¯t surprised by that: Artur Paendrag was a man of singular and all-consuming focus, and if he¡¯d decided that the new arrivals were his enemies, then he would stop at nothing to wipe them out.
He¡¯d do it out of a belief of righteousness, too, Leonidas knew. His grandfather would find any number of perfectly pragmatic, logical, and patriotic reasons to massacre the emerging ¡®Fantasies¡¯ with impunity¡ªand sleep soundly every night after he did. Were Leonidas not fresh from Elatra, he might have even shared his grandfather¡¯s stance more than that of his parents or sister.
¡°{The matches are progressing faster now!}¡± Bardulf said from beside him as another of the mer-elves was flattened by an elf in scalemail, with her hair in two long black braids and an immense warhammer in her grip.
¡°{It will not be long until the victor matches.}¡± Leonidas agreed.
¡°{You know that you¡¯ll face Synthra first, right?}¡±
¡°{I know.}¡± Leonidas said with a chuckle. ¡°{I have only one or two ideas on how to defeat her, and they are long-shots at best.}¡±
¡°{I shall cheer your victory, Achilles!}¡±
¡°{Thanks,}¡± Leonidas said while glancing over at the disinterested redhead, and speaking with a tilt of his head toward the Shadowblade. ¡°{Hey Bardulf, out of curiosity, what does your Primal Intuition say about her?}¡±
¡°{About Synthra?}¡± his new friend asked in surprise, and leaned forward to look around his armored body at the redhead as well.
¡°{Mmhm.}¡±
¡°{Hmm¡}¡± Bardulf hummed while squinting his eyes toward the Sorceress. ¡°{She¡¯s in the middle. She¡¯ll either become an incredible ally or a cruel enemy, and it¡¯s like her fate is balanced on the knife¡¯s edge. I don¡¯t know what¡¯ll tip it over, but right now, she¡¯s in the middle of what I¡¯d call friend and foe.}¡±
¡°{So she¡¯s still deciding who she wants to be?}¡±
¡°{Sort of, yeah.}¡± Bardulf said with a nod. ¡°{It¡¯s surprising, but not too uncommon. The Guild Mistress has sheltered Synthra her entire life, from what rumors say. Sinalthria¡¯s been hyper-protective of her daughter since Synthra¡¯s father died, back on Altera. I¡¯m not surprised that she¡¯s so aloof and distant, honestly. She¡¯s been treated like porcelain her entire life, despite her power.}¡±
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¡°{Her ability was called ¡®Draconic Art¡¯, right? Is she a Dragon?}¡±
¡°{A quarter, I think.}¡± Bardulf said with a nod. ¡°{Sinalthria is half-dragon, so I suppose that makes Synthra more mortal than mythical.}¡±
¡°{Mythical?}¡± Leonidas asked with genuine confusion.
¡°{Creatures like True Dragons are classified as Mythicals.}¡± Bardulf explained with a shrug. ¡°{They¡¯re existences that transcend the laws of understood Cultivation, and exist in a category of power outside the norm. Mythicals don¡¯t have the same classifications as normal mortals. Their power is more, I dunno, misunderstood I guess? Mysterious?}¡±
¡°{That explains her firepower¡}¡± Leonidas murmured.
¡°{It does. I¡¯m also surprised you didn¡¯t know what a Mythical was. Aren¡¯t you from Altera too, Achilles?}¡±
¡°{I came here from somewhere similar,}¡± Leonidas said truthfully, ¡°{though it is more complicated than that.}¡±
¡°{Hm. Okay. I won¡¯t pry.}¡± Bardulf declared, and turned back to the match with no hint of dissatisfaction.
Leonidas turned around in surprise¡ªfinally pulling his eyes from Sythra¡ªand stared at Bardulf in surprise. ¡°{You accept my answer that easily?}¡±
¡°{Did you lie?}¡±
¡°{Well, no, but¡ª}¡±
¡°{Primal Intuition, remember?}¡± Bardulf said with a laugh. ¡°{I have no reason to distrust you, Achilles. Just enjoy the benefits of empirical friendship, and focus on your match with the Princess. She¡¯s going to burn you alive, otherwise.}¡±
¡°{She is ruthless, I suppose,}¡± Leonidas admitted with a nod.
¡°{More than you or I, Achilles.}¡± Bardulf agreed. ¡°{Much more.}¡±
Leonidas said nothing to the blond man¡¯s assertions, but within himself, he wasn¡¯t so sure that was true.
In actuality, he had a ruthless streak just as long and twice as wide as his grandfather did¡ªhe just preferred not to let it dictate how he acted. Leonidas wanted to see the best in people, but if he were honest with himself, he knew he was as capable of immense and horrifying brutality as his grandfather or anyone else.
Leonidas had slain thousands of ¡®innocent¡¯ people during the war against Azrageth, simply because identifying the true Tainted among so many would have been too hard.
The chance that agents of the literal Lord of Hell they were fighting would find a way to infiltrate and sabotage his Grand Army¡¯s supplies with fire, poison, or something more insidious had been too great, given past events. With the added possibility that the Tainted might try to assassinate his officers¡
The choice had been a simple one, even if it had been ruthless.
Leonidas had steeled his heart, and he¡¯d killed all of them.
In the lens of the campaign, it had been the proper choice for greater Elatra.
In the lens of his own hindsight, he knew it had simply been the most expedient option. None of his generals or soldiers had objected, and even the people they¡¯d killed had seemed no different from the Tainted in behavior or presentation¡ªwhose numbers could and had encompassed children right alongside adults. Yet¡
Leonidas grimaced under his helmet, and subtly shook his head to clear the train of thought. Down that path lay spiraling problems, he knew, and more than a few conscience and self-worth questions that he did not have the time nor luxury to truly address in the present moment.
Maybe he¡¯d try to find a Psychologist, once all was said and done. He¡¯d never been scared of the necessity of mental health assessment, and he doubted the Haelfenn would be either. The ones he¡¯d met on Elatra had been the closest thing to a mental health cognizant species on the planet.
¡°{That¡¯s the last match,}¡± Bardulf said bracingly when a beautiful cat-girl put down one of the last remaining Terran Aspirants. ¡°{I hope your plan is ready, Achilles.}¡±
¡°{Me too,}¡± Leonidas muttered while Cerevil stepped forward.
¡°{All deciding rounds have now completed!}¡± the proctor announced formally. ¡°{If you were eliminated or surrendered, your Aspiration to join the Guild ends here, for exactly one year as factored by the Terran Calendar.}¡±
So Dawnhaven had adopted the Calendar, too? That was interesting.
¡°{As a result, we will now move to the winners¡¯ bracket. These matches have no impact on your eligibility, but do determine your ranking among this year¡¯s incumbent Aspirants and can even allow you to bypass Iron and proceed directly to Copper rank. In the rarest cases, we have even had some advance directly to Bronze.}¡±
Murmurs broke out among the watching Aspirants, and Leonidas leaned forward in his seat. Competition had always appealed to him, and Cerevil had inadvertently triggered his competitive nature with his words.
"{Combatants will engage until two winners remain, at which point they will fight one another. For the sake of fairness, and to avoid predicted match-ups¡ª}¡± several of the seated Aspirants turned to look at him and Synthra in a wave at Cerevil¡¯s words, and the proctor continued unphased ¡°{¡ªin favor of an element of chaos: we will determine the combatants at random.}¡±
Celia stepped forward when Cerevil finished, and waved cheerfully at the assembled Aspirants.
¡°{Officer Celia will orchestrate this process. She has created a combatant card for each of you. These cards will be randomly drawn out of a bag in plain view. This process will continue until only two combatants remain. Given there are only eight of you in the winners¡¯ bracket, it should be a relatively swift elimination process.}¡±
Leonidas leaned back when Cerevil turned to Celia, who conjured the sack he¡¯d spoken of with a snap of her fingers.
¡°{This is exciting!}¡± Bardulf said gleefully.
¡°{And disappointing,}¡± Leonidas said while turning toward Synthra. The dragon-blooded woman was staring at Cerevil with a look of annoyance, though not one of surprise or actual irritation. It was very likely she¡¯d suspected something like this might happen, if Leonidas¡¯ guess was correct, simply due to the fact she probably knew the Guild Officers better than most. If Sinalthria was the Guild Mistress for an extended period, which seemed likely; then Synthra had likely grown up around the men and women that comprised the majority of the Guild¡¯s officials.
She didn¡¯t look a day over twenty-two, and actually seemed a little younger than that to Leonidas¡¯ eyes, but he had learned not to trust those assumptions.
Only the fact she was assumedly still below level twenty lended confidence to his assessment. It made no sense for her to be older than him by a significant margin and only now allowed to follow in her mother¡¯s footsteps.
He didn¡¯t think even Sinalthria could shelter her that much, given how willful Synthra seemed.
¡°{The first match,}¡± Cerevil announced and pulled Leonidas¡¯ attention, ¡°{will be¡ Achilles against Pheona!}¡±
Leonidas raised his eyebrows, and looked down to where the pretty cat-girl from before was seated at the bottom of his own stands. She looked back up at him, and flashed him a wink, before jumping to her feet and striding for the Arena with her hips working overtime.
Bardulf sighed wistfully beside him, and Leonidas snorted.
¡°{I will see you shortly,}¡± he promised the blond.
¡°{Feel free to bring her back with you.}¡± Bardulf said with a smile.
¡°{I thought Cats and Dogs did not get along?}¡± Leonidas asked while standing.
¡°{Perhaps not,}¡± Bardulf said with a grin, ¡°{but I am nothing if not willing to sacrifice for the peace of all.}¡±
Leonidas shook his head, laughed, and made his way down the steps.
When he did, he turned, and met Synthra¡¯s burning golden eyes as he descended. Bardulf could have his fantasies, as far as Leonidas was concerned. After all, he had his own goals. The tournament was the best way to develop his Affinity relative to the best in his peer bracket for age and power, and presented a golden opportunity for further limit testing.
He already had ideas of what he wanted his Aspirant arc to include.
And it ended with putting the Guild¡¯s Princess flat on her back. Hard.
B1 | Chapter 34: Arrogant Imposter
Synthra narrowed her eyes in consideration when the Spellblade was called.
Achilles, he was named, as if in homage to the heroes of the new world she had been brought to at her mother¡¯s behest. Her lessons with Ceruviel on the culture and history of Terra had taught her the name, and her surrogate Aunt had told her much about the deeds and storied feats of Achilles, Odysseus, Heracles, Perseus, Theseus, Jason, Hector, Alexander, Leonidas, and a dozen other heroes besides.
Ceruviel Latherian found Terran culture fascinating and enrapturing, and shared that interest with Synthra whether she had initially wanted to indulge or not. She had to admit that, in the end, she¡¯d been as eager to open the next book on history or mythology¡ªit was difficult to separate them, sometimes¡ªas the Haelfenn Duchess.
When Celia, one of the few Terrans to have truly integrated seamlessly into the Guild, had introduced the new arrival as Achilles; it had put Synthra on edge immediately. She despised braggarts, and more than that, she detested those that exaggerated their own strength. Naming himself after one of their adopted world¡¯s greatest heroes only added insult to impertinence, as far as she was concerned.
Then there was the matter of his speech.
For all that he spoke the local common tongue like a native, there was no mistaking the easy inflection and nature of his Haelfennyr; ¡®Achilles¡¯ was from Altera. More than that, he was obviously the son of some prominent bloodline that had been hidden away until the time was right to make a debut¡ªand had done so while subsequently spitting on the legends of the Terrans¡¯ own sacred histories.
It was an arrogance that boiled her blood. For all that others thought her aloof and distant¡ªwhich she was, for the simple fact that people wanted to know her because of her mother, more than for who she was; Synthra had great respect for the culture of her new homeworld. The stories she¡¯d read, in the quiet of Ceruviel¡¯s study or in her apartments in the guild house had captured her imagination.
In her head, she had to admit, she¡¯d even thought herself a fine candidate to emulate Helen of Troy¡ªalbeit with added horns, height, and musculature. The women of Terran stories were far too thin and weak for Synthra¡¯s liking, but that was par for the course as she¡¯d found. Many of the native females shared the same failings, which baffled her. Why Terran men didn¡¯t find a physically powerful mate appealing was a mystery she had yet to solve.
Though ¡®Comics¡¯ existed with such women, and that had been a riveting discovery.
¡°{Aspirants ready!}¡± Cerevil called, and Synthra refocused on the match. She knew Pheona already from Altera, though the beast-tribe woman was not what she¡¯d call a friend or even more than a casual acquaintance. Synthra had little time for people that relied on their wiles more than their minds, and the Nekomara was precisely that sort of person in Synthra¡¯s experience.
It was incredibly disappointing to see, especially since she could fight.
Synthra¡¯s eyes moved over to the impersonator, and her lips curled down into an even more disapproving frown.
There were worse things, however, than simply propping up one¡¯s perceived lack of skill with wiles: and that was, in every estimation, the blatant mockery that the Haelfenn under the obsidian armor was making of Terran culture.
¡°{Aspirants salute!}¡±
Both Pheona and ¡®Achilles¡¯ saluted, the former with her shortswords and the latter with his cracked longsword. That was another affectation that annoyed her, though less than his naming choice and blatantly emulated combat style: his gear. A High Noble could have at least come in with proper equipment, and yet this ¡®Achilles¡¯ insisted on adorning himself in cracked and ancient armor, and an equally damaged and ancient bastard sword.
It was as if he was making fun of Terran antiquity with his choices, and it only further lowered her estimation of his character. The arrogance was, in her eyes, overwhelming.
When the battle began a moment later, Synthra watched with unblinking eyes.
Her [Draconic Sight] allowed her to easily follow the combat without worrying about needing to blink, thanks to the magic of her blood, and she crossed her right leg over her left and leaned forward slightly to observe the initial exchanges.
Pheona probed the armored Haelfenn rapidly, with several quick slashes buoyed by her air-attributed abilities allowing for a passable series of harrying strikes to test the Haelfenn¡¯s guard. Each movement flowed into the next, and Synthra found herself raising an eyebrow slightly at the elevation of skill that the Nekomara was demonstrating.
She¡¯d clearly been practicing.
¡®Achilles¡¯ seemed less impressed with Pheona¡¯s attempts however, and while the small beast-tribe woman had clearly been more intelligent in her points attribution than the foolish Naiafenn that ¡®Achilles¡¯ had half-bisected, it was actually working against Pheona in the present situation.
The reason for that, of course, was her opponent.
Synthra¡¯s tongue clicked softly in annoyance while ¡®Achilles¡¯ parried and deflected each incoming blow with measured bursts of motion. He didn¡¯t fight with the conventional Haelfenn flourish or grace, but instead had managed to quite accurately emulate the more brutalistic and aggressive stereotypically Terran way of doing things: sharp movements and harsh expulsions of strength-based combat designed to counter-push and overwhelm an opponent.
Many of the natives that came to the guild approached combat in an identical way, and even after tuition, showed only minor progress away from the high-stamina style of uneconomic combat¡ªas if none of them had ever had to fight prior to the Incursion! She¡¯d heard and read that was the case, but it seemed ludicrous to her. A life without learning the arts of war, both magical and martial, was a life wasted in Synthra¡¯s eyes.
As Synthra watched ¡®Achilles¡¯ and tracked his movements, each of which did indeed manage to mimic in some essential way the Terran mentality of warfare, she could still see the truth for what it was¡ªand she knew others did too. He parried where a Terran would have blocked, dodged where a lesser fighter would have parried, and pressed the attack where a more inexperienced warrior might have thought to give space. Every action was further proof of his lie, and compounded into an absolute truth.
¡®Achilles¡¯ was simply too well-trained and naturally talented to be a native.
The way he riposted, moved his body, and flowed from one stance to another with advanced insight into the exact positioning of his blade and towering stature proved it without a shadow of a doubt. He had managed to emulate Terran fighting methodology, sure enough, but he had been unable to eliminate the superior economy of Haelfenn warfare. Each sword movement was measured, each step and stance shift was calculated, and Synthra could already see that he was luring Pheona into a trap.
In four moves he sprung it; luring her into an air-buoyed double-strike at his seemingly exposed solar plexus, which might have even penetrated thanks to the mana preceding her blades¡ªuntil he stopped them dead in the air with what she assumed was some manner of Psicore.
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Pheona¡¯s large orange eyes widened in shock when he stopped her strike, Achilles flipped his sword in his grip with Haelfenn-trained fluidity and¡ªbracing the flat of the large broadsword against his forearm¡ªsmashed it against her head with his armored elbow reinforcing the back end of the sword.
The blade itself protected him from jarring his joint with the impact force, and the elbow lended a power and force to the hit that would otherwise have been absent. When Pheona slammed backward into the sand with a cry of pain, Synthra clicked her tongue once more in annoyance.
It wasn¡¯t even that the Nekomara wasn¡¯t skilled. Against a true peer opponent, she¡¯d likely have won already. The Psicore was a decent ¡®joker in the deck¡¯, as Terrans liked to say, and was uncommon for Haelfenn; but not as rare as some others, and was a mostly worthless choice anyway. Without the right combinations, Psicores failed to live up to their potential spectacularly.
But the sword forms, combat style, and iron discipline demonstrated by the Haelfenn imposter simply overwhelmed her. ¡®Achilles¡¯ fought, despite his best efforts at occlusion, like what he was: a swordsman from birth. His innate understanding of weight distribution, movement, energy conservation, and explosive pressure while abusing System mechanics like Attribute Focus made him a remarkably formidable fighter.
Even the way he stood there, sword at his side, and waited for her to rise proved his arrogance¡ªand the fact he truly was toying with his opponents. It was not just disrespectful, but it was selfish. By Synthra¡¯s estimation, ¡®Achilles¡¯ was likely at peer level with her: Level 17 or higher.
Yet he even managed to pretend as if he was below First Tier, with how subtly slow and disjointed he made the elegant mix of brutality and finesse. A true First Tier body like the bodies of the others present had an intrinsic marriage of flow and mastery that no amount of practice could emulate. There was a knowledge, deeply ingrained, of one¡¯s own Core and Cultivation that only Tempering could achieve. For all his supposed disjointedness and untempered motion, ¡®Achilles¡¯ was too smooth.
He tried to emulate an Untempered, likely to force his opponents to underestimate him, through a mix of near-misses and almost believable foibles or faux pas movements that fundamentally misunderstood the more nuanced benefits of System enhancement¡ªbut Synthra could see through them. His form was too advanced, and his unspoken combat comprehension too honed.
If ¡®Achilles¡¯ were truly Untempered, then the rest of them would look like rank amateurs by comparison. Their ¡®class¡¯ was one of the most competitive and high-elimination brackets in the entire License Trial.
The participants had chosen to compete here, in the most elite selection for Slayers¡ªthe Guild¡¯s premier front-line damage dealers¡ªfor a reason: success meant a buoyed and hyper-launched career, and failure meant an entire year of waiting instead of the usual three months.
She¡¯d even elected to participate here, in the hopes of a challenge, rather than attend the more technically suitable Magus selection like her mother had wanted. She knew she¡¯d obliterate her competition there, so she¡¯d tried to go for a setting that disallowed her most devastating Draconic Arts and restricted the strongest and wide-area abilities she¡¯d gained from her still-Compressing Everflame Core.
The fact those present knew better than to stare at her helped her choice, too.
Synthra loathed the ogling eyes and openly hungry stares her outfits received, due to a factor of her existence she had no more control over than she did the weather. Her body had received attention from the moment she¡¯d reached maturity, and it was something she¡¯d simply come to accept as par for the course, even if it annoyed her.
Her Haelfenn blood had subsumed the vast majority of her draconic lineage, save for her pronounced canines, slitted pupils, and golden horns¡ªand yet somehow she had inherited, and then amplified the genetic curvaceousness her mother had developed in opposition to all common sense.
Haelfenn women could be gifted, but not to the degree Sinalthria was¡ªand definitely not to the degree Synthra was. She didn¡¯t hate her physical appearance, of course; she simply hated that others only saw her through the lens of that appearance. Her grandmother¡¯s choice of mortal form during her pregnancy with Sinalthria had trickled down strongly in their genetics, and Synthra had been fighting against being labeled a nepotism-elevated bimbo her entire life.
It was only when she¡¯d reached First Temper and flattened Guild Officers that people had finally recognized her for her genius, and not the generous curves and height-enhanced sensuality of her physical state. Her attire was designed to allow for maximum freedom of movement, and yet she still received solicitations from idiots that couldn¡¯t recognize a battlemage¡¯s silks.
In that way, she was the opposite of her new enemy.
She wanted to be seen as something other than what was on the surface, while he seemingly sought others to only see the facade he presented.
Which brought her back to one conclusion: ¡®Achilles¡¯ was close to his own Second Temper, because if he wasn¡¯t, he¡¯d have had to be a veteran of a level of combat and brutality that Synthra knew neither Terra nor Altera had witnessed in hundreds of years. He fought vaguely like her Aunt Ceruviel, as if he were seeking to emulate the ancient Archons and their natural lean toward finessed brutality; and that only solidified the impression of his expertise in her mind.
And further deepened her growing dislike. She despised actual copy-cats.
When Pheona pulled herself to her feet and charged into the fray against ¡®Achilles¡¯ once more, Synthra waited to see if the Nekomara would do anything to destabilize her opponent. A sand-whipping with her air element, a surge of air-cutters, or even attempting to deprive the oxygen from around his head to induce asphyxiation or hypoxia were all options.
Instead, she once again proved why she had to use her only barely above average wiles in place of true guile, and attacked him again with a shout of courageous, but ultimately idiotic courage.
This time, though, something else happened.
¡®Achilles¡¯ lifted his blade, and just before she hit him, Pheona abruptly staggered and went visibly cross-eyed. Her equilibrium seemed to fail, and Synthra caught the scent of blood from the Nekomara with her [Predator Senses] a second before the beast-tribe swordswoman seemed to stumble like her brain had momentarily disconnected from her body.
The moment she did, ¡®Achilles¡¯ entered her guard and¡ªwith a ruthlessness and efficiency that only solidified Synthra¡¯s assessment of his Noble origins further¡ªslammed the hilt of his sword against her trachea. The Nekomara¡¯s eyes bulged, she spat out blood and spit, and she dropped to the sand on her back.
It was over. Synthra wasn¡¯t sure what had happened, but she guessed that the initial strike ¡®Achilles¡¯ had made was harder-hitting than she¡¯d previously thought. It must have been a delayed reaction to the blow, though in the end, all it meant was that Pheona had left herself vulnerable, and as her weakness was exposed, was now paying the price.
¡°{Mender!}¡± Cerevil shouted a moment later as if to confirm it.
Pheona tried to signal them away, but the woman¡¯s face was already turning subtly blue from the deprivation of oxygen, and Synthra shook her head.
Against a true peer opponent, Pheona might have stood a chance.
Synthra¡¯s eyes tracked the black-armored warrior when he turned and made his way back to the stands to take his seat beside Bardulf. That was another surprise. The blond Lycanus had always been, if nothing else, a strong judge of character; yet he took to the imposter like a hound to a new master. It was bewildering and sickening at the same time, but then again, he was only Half Lycanus. Perhaps his Haelfenn blood was interfering with his Primal Intuition.
No matter.
Synthra would tear that helmet right off his head and expose the truth.
All she could hope was that she faced him before the final round, and deprived him of the glory of being runner-up. After all, there was no way in hell he was getting through her. She¡¯d held back against Balthazar, and would against her next opponent too, if it wasn¡¯t ¡®Achilles¡¯¡ªbut the moment she faced him, the proverbial gloves were coming off.
He¡¯d never forget the day he walked into the Guild House, she vowed to herself.
She¡¯d make sure of it.
B1 | Chapter 35: On the Warpath
¡°We have found it, my Khan!¡±
Ganbaatar looked up at the sound of a shouting voice, and his warlords went silent when he nodded for his Khansguard to open the flaps of the tent. An Outrunner, dressed in dark leathers and faded combat fatigues, rushed inside and dropped to his knees as he¡¯d been trained. That was good, Ganbaatar thought with a nod; it meant that his lessons on discipline were sticking. All it had taken was a few dozen public executions, and now everyone was incredibly obedient.
¡°Sector 117 has been identified, as per your commands, Great Khan!¡±
¡°Excellent,¡± Ganbaatar said with a grin. ¡°Very good. Where is it?¡±
¡°In what was Michigan, and is now Territory 26. It contains a large Elven city, with what appear to be considerable military forces, too.¡±
¡°Michigan, hm? Right next door.¡± Ganbaatar commented cheerfully while snapping his fingers, and yanking on one of the nearby chains. A woman in sheer silks stood when he did, and came over with a set of maps they¡¯d recovered from the nearby libraries. Milwaukee was still being fought over, but Ganbaatar held the lion¡¯s share of the contested city. Hundreds of thousands lived under his rule now, corralled by the power of his Atomfire Core.
It was remarkably easy to establish control over large swathes of the population in the years following the Incursion, especially thanks to his early adoption of the System¡¯s methods. He¡¯d been lucky to be suffering from Radiation Poisoning during the Incursion; it had created the basis for the Core that even then spread glorious acid-green heat through his veins.
His curse had become his strength, and his unrivaled gift had allowed him to quickly and brutally rise as a factional power within the city following the Incursion¡¯s onset. Over the past five years, he¡¯d slaughtered man and monster both, conquered dungeons, and gained more levels than almost anyone else in Wisconsin. The leader of the Vanguard, former General Marcus Brant, had a comparable level to his own; but the man knew better than to encroach on the Khanate.
Not while Ganbaatar held the threat of Nuclear Apocalypse over his head.
He¡¯d bought that respect in blood, when he¡¯d wiped out the Sons of Washington.
His Warlords had handled the city¡¯s conquest since then, and the Vanguard only offered true resistance when they pushed too far into contested territory.
Which was, Ganbaatar figured, fair enough. He had no desire to wipe out more humans that he needed to: and the Aetherium from the ¡®Cataclysm¡¯ would let him finally force Marcus to kneel before him. Once that happened, he¡¯d have an entire army of former United States Marines under his command¡ and then he could truly begin his conquest of the entire State.
¡°Your maps, Great Khan,¡± the woman said demurely, and interrupted his reflections. His warlords made room for her to place them on the table, and then promptly unrolled it for the collective group to look over.
Ganbaatar surveyed it with a nod, and waved the woman away. He had no time for her breasts jiggling in his Warlords¡¯ faces and distracting them, and once again wondered if he¡¯d made a mistake with the silks¡ªor perhaps with her. Was she too attractive? He glanced around at his Warlords, but none of them seemed to be watching her retreating form.
He frowned. He¡¯d deal with it later.
Instead, he motioned for the men around the table to resume their discussion.
¡°As I was saying, Great Khan,¡± his First Warlord, Verner Larn, said immediately; ¡°We should consider that you going to deal with this Cataclysm yourself is a risk to the stability of the Khanate. Milwaukee is still being contested by the Liberty Vanguard and the Church forces, and in your absence, they will once again grow bold.¡±
¡°If I do not go myself, Verner, then I cannot ensure that I am the one to claim the Aetherium,¡± Ganbaatar explained with outstanding patience, if he did say so himself. ¡°While your concern is touching, it is pointless. I must be the one to claim the reward. That is my final decision.¡±
Verner bowed his head when Ganbaatar spoke, and then another of his Warlords chimed in.
¡°If that is the case, Great Khan; how many Divisions will you take with you?¡± Trent Marion, his Third Warlord, asked. ¡°At present, one each is engaged with the Vanguard and the Church, and there are three fighting over Chicago to the South. Two are fighting over Madison with Connor¡ª¡± Ganbaatar sighed at the mention of his Sixth Warlord¡¯s ill-fated expedition south, and its myriad complications ¡°¡ªand the remaining five are either training or rotating between the active divisions to replenish losses. In total, we have close to one hundred and twenty thousand people at fighting strength all included, but¡¡±
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¡°Their levels are laughably low,¡± Ganbaatar finished for his Warlord with a sigh. ¡°I know, Trent. Alas, human nature is what it is; we cannot stop culling those that grow too strong. It will only end in a challenge to our power. If we cannot suspend any thoughts of fomented rebellion with overwhelming force, then the ignorant peasants will revolt against their protectors.¡±
¡°If I may, Great Khan?¡± Kevin Nguyen, his Second Warlord, chimed in quietly.
¡°Go ahead, Kevin.¡± Ganbaatar nodded magnanimously.
¡°You could take Divisions three and nine, giving you the majority of your forces at Second Tier, with the Officers at Third. That, combined with your Khansguard and your own power, will create a mighty force with which to smash whatever resistance you encounter in Sector 117, Elves or no Elves.¡±
¡°And the remaining three Divisions stay as reserves?¡± Ganbaatar asked.
¡°No, I will take two to the North and invade Green Bay in force.¡±
Ganbaatar¡¯s eyebrows rose, and all eyes turned to Kevin in surprise.
¡°Why?¡± the Khan asked simply. He didn¡¯t want to kill Kevin for stupidity. He liked Kevin. He wasn¡¯t Mongolian, which was a shame, but he was Vietnamese¡ªand that was better than nothing.
¡°You cannot be the only one that received news about the Cataclysm, Great Khan. Even if we are in the upper echelon of faction power, Green Bay still has the Triumvirate. If we attack them in force, they won¡¯t have anyone to spare to try to beat you to Sector 117.¡±
Kevin circled Green Bay with his finger, and then traced the most ideal path from Milwaukee, around the city, and toward Michigan. ¡°Additionally, it means they won¡¯t harass your Army while you march overland toward Michigan. We could also go together and smash the Triumvirate once and for all, but that would add at least two months to your journey.¡±
Ganbaatar let out a low ¡®hmm¡¯ of consideration at Kevin¡¯s words, and leaned down to stare more intently at the map. His Warlord had a fair point: Green Bay had been a thorn in his side for the last two years, and with Madison slowly coming into his grip, and the New Republic in Chicago contained by his forces to the South, the time had never been more ripe for him to finally kill the Triumvirate as a threat and cut off their supplies to the Vanguard.
¡°How confident are you in holding the city with only three Divisions?¡± Ganbaatar asked while looking back at Verner.
¡°If you are willing to finally rid us of the Church completely before you go, Great Khan,¡± the tall bearded German said seriously, ¡°then I believe I can focus on finally pressing the old General. With myself, the other Warlords, and three divisions¡ªwe can definitely make headway in seizing control of Milwaukee for good.¡±
¡°Can we destroy the Church without resorting to Apocalypse measures?¡± Ganbaatar asked seriously. He needed the ninety-thousand or so people that the Church held under sway. They would make excellent subjects for his budding Empire, and he needed bodies to throw across the state after he returned victorious. He wasn¡¯t the Humanity Alliance or Unity Coalition, and lacked the millions of citizens each faction boasted.
Of the four hundred million people in the continental United States at the time of Incursion, Ganbaatar estimated less than one hundred million were likely to have survived¡ªbut that was still a substantial number, and he would need Legions if he were to truly bring mankind under the aegis of his nuclear deterrent.
¡°I am not certain,¡± Verner admitted candidly. ¡°The Bishop¡¯s Light Affinity is very strong, and his barriers have held us at bay for months without wavering. I cannot say for certain whether or not we could truly overcome them without your Ultimate power.¡±
Ganbaatar grimaced at that, but didn¡¯t hold it against the man. His first Warlord was in the position for a reason, and Verner had proven his worth time and time again during their efforts to bring humanity back from the brink of extinction. He¡¯d have to die eventually, of course, to ensure he wasn¡¯t a threat to Ganbaatar¡¯s future Empire; but that could come after the Warlord helped him establish that Dominion.
¡°Very well,¡± Ganbaatar said after consideration. ¡°I will lead five full Divisions, including the one currently fighting them, against the Church. We will finally end the threat it poses to us from the West, and be able to focus our efforts on what matters thereafter.¡±
¡°We can be ready to attack in three days,¡± Verner said immediately.
¡°Good,¡± Ganbaatar said with a nod. ¡°In the mean time, Kevin; you should prepare for our march to Green Bay and use the remaining Division to set up a forward position. I liked your suggestion, and I think it will pay dividends.¡±
¡°Yes, Great Khan,¡± the Warlord said simply.
¡°Good man,¡± Ganbaatar said with a hearty laugh. He was glad he hadn¡¯t killed Kevin, after all. ¡°With that settled, you are all dismissed! I will see you all for the morning meeting.¡±
The Warlords thumped their fists to their hearts, bowed, and departed immediately after he spoke. Once they did, Ganbaatar turned to the chained slaves in the corner of his tent. Many of them had been politicians, judges, or other such officials prior to the Incursion. He¡¯d taken his time breaking them, but they served as excellent examples of compliance for the people.
His eyes fell onto the dark-skinned woman from before, and he eyed her thoughtfully while she kept her eyes to the floor of the tent. He needed a distraction after the meeting, and the former Mayor would do fine. If she pleased him, he might even let her keep her beauty, or become his latest bride! If she didn¡¯t¡
Well, at least she¡¯d no longer be a distraction during meetings.
Mother Earth had made him Her champion, and Ganbaatar would not disappoint. Humanity would be united, the Cataclysm would be claimed, and his sons would bring the world to heel in the decades that followed. He would have the greatest Empire since Genghis himself.
Ganbaatar smiled, and basked in the inevitable glory of both his coming conquests.
In moments like these, he reflected, it truly was good to be the Khan.
B1 | Chapter 36: Final Four
¡°{That concludes the final match of the quarter-finals!}¡± Cerevil announced when Synthra¡¯s opponent, an elven Spellblade, was dragged out of the arena while spasming from head-to-toe full-body burns. ¡°{We will now proceed to the semi-finals, and the Final Four. After Synthra¡¯s victory, they are: Achilles, Bardulf, Luciaro, and Synthra!}¡±
Leonidas looked at Synthra at the same time as she lifted her head to stare at him, and his sapphire eyes narrowed when they met her topaz glare.
¡°{The Final Four is already a staggering achievement, and as such, all of you will be granted the right to begin your licenses at Copper, instead of Iron!}¡±
A wave of gasps and applause rippled through the crowd, though Leonidas could distractedly tell that several people were throwing their hands up in annoyance or burying their face in their hands at missing the opportunity.
¡°{Furthermore,}¡± Cerevil continued without missing a beat, ¡°{and given that this is the most competitive License Trial we have had since Transmigration; the finalists of today¡¯s trial will not merely be fighting for the right to accolades and glory¡ªbut for the unique reward of 200 Aetherium, and the right to commission one item of their desire from the Guild¡¯s crafting masters!}¡±
Another wave of shock rolled through the crowd, and this time the finalists themselves were forgotten before the immensity of the reward. At least, that was Leonidas¡¯ view on what happened. He had little context for what it actually meant, as he still didn¡¯t even fully understand what the actual value of Aetherium was, nor how strong an item made by craftsmen¡ªmasters or not¡ªcould be.
Hell, he had seen Ceruviel paying the shopkeepers they¡¯d visited with gold and silver, though he¡¯d not had a chance¡ªnor the wherewithal, truthfully¡ªto ask her what the actual currency of the land was. In Elatra, it had been Platinum, Electrum, Gold, Silver, Bronze, and Copper. Each one had correlated roughly to ten thousand dollars, one thousand dollars, one hundred dollars, ten dollars, one dollar, and one cent respectively.
He didn¡¯t know whether it was the same for Altera, and if they¡¯d adopted equal calculation since coming to Terra, or if there was a new system of valuation he needed to learn.
¡°{As I am sure many of you are eager to see the end of the trial, both to see who the winner is and to start your journey, I shan¡¯t keep you with pointless oration. Instead, let us begin the semi-finals! It¡¯s time for the Final Four!}¡±
Leonidas turned to Bardulf at Cerevil¡¯s words, and grinned at him beneath the helmet.
¡°{If we face each other, no hard feelings,}¡± Leonidas said immediately. ¡°{But I want Synthra.}¡±
¡°{How bold of you, Achilles!}¡± Bardulf said with a warm laugh.
¡°{Huh?}¡± Leonidas asked one second before it clicked, and he felt embarrassed heat suffuse his cheeks. ¡°{Wait, Bardulf, that isn¡¯t what I¡ª}¡±
¡°{I¡¯m jesting, Achilles, I¡¯m jesting.}¡± Bardulf said while slapping him companionably on the knee. ¡°{I understood your meaning, and I daresay she feels the same. The Princess has been staring at you like you, ah, kicked her puppy as the Terrans say.}¡±
¡°{Yeah,}¡± Leonidas said while looking to where Synthra had returned to her seat, and was staring with golden intensity at the arena floor as if, too, had kicked her puppy. ¡°{The animosity confuses me, but I think maybe she¡¯s just a haughty type, I dunno. The girl needs some humbling.}¡±
¡°{Wait¡ Achilles, are you actually super old?}¡±
¡°{What?}¡± Leonidas asked with confusion while turning back to Bardulf.
¡°{You used the term for ¡®female child¡¯, Achilles. Didn¡¯t you mean to?}¡±
¡°{Oh.}¡± Leonidas said, and then shook his armored head. ¡°{No. I meant to use the term for ¡®immature female¡¯. Is that not what I said?}¡±
¡°{Hm¡ I suppose you did say it, though it may just be a quirk of your dialect¡}¡±
¡°{Oh,}¡± Leonidas said in a genuinely surprised tone. He hadn¡¯t considered that.
¡°{Much of how you speak is the same, honestly. You use a very grandiloquent and ceremonial form of Haelfennyr.}¡± Bardulf was staring at him curiously when he spoke, and the half-wolfman¡¯s gold eyes¡ªdarker than Synthra¡¯s¡ªwere intent. ¡°{At first I thought you were simply affecting airs, but you really do just speak that way, don¡¯t you?}¡±
¡°{I guess I just had a different kind of instruction,}¡± Leonidas said with a shrug, and an attempt at seeming dismissive.
¡°{Maybe so,}¡± Bardulf said with a thoughtful look. ¡°{Though if I didn¡¯t know better, I¡¯d assume you were secretly a Royal. You sound like one, you know.}¡±
¡°{Definitely not.}¡± Leonidas stated firmly. ¡°{Not even remotely Royalty.}¡±
Bardulf laughed at his words, and seemed to believe him.
¡°{That¡¯s a relief. I was worried I¡¯d been too familiar with you. Excellent!}¡±
Leonidas shook his head when he responded, ¡°{your kindness has been a boon for the duration of this impromptu tournament, Bardulf. It would be a pleasure to form a Party with you, too, after this is all over.}¡±
¡°{Ha!}¡± the Shadowblade laughed, ¡°{here I was, thinking the same! It¡¯s a deal, Achilles.}¡±
¡°{The next match,}¡± Cerevil declared and cut through their chatter, ¡°{will be Achilles against Luciaro!}¡±
All eyes snapped back to look at Leonidas, and then to Synthra, and then back to Leonidas. The disappointment, amusement, tension, and anticipation of the crowd was palpable by that point¡ªand even the actually disqualified contenders had all remained, seemingly eager to see the result, or perhaps to simply watch the eventual explosion when Leonidas and Synthra fought. For all the Sorceress¡¯ haughtiness, she actually seemed markedly more popular than he was.
He had the feeling that many of them wanted to see her pummel him.
Leonidas rose from his seat amid the stares while Bardulf gave him a chuckled ¡°{good luck!}¡± and made his way toward the steps leading down toward the arena. His next opponent was an armored fighter like him; an orc who wielded an immense warhammer and had also been a recommendation like Leonidas, Bardulf, and Synthra.
Luciaro¡¯s matches had been quick and brutal affairs, and the greenskin had wasted no time in bringing the full force of his physical strength to bear against his opponents. He seemed to combine that power with both high Endurance and exceptional Vitality, and even the most powerful blows thrown against him had broken upon the warrior like the tides against a mountain.
Leonidas was already breathing to achieve Battle Meditation by the time his armored feet hit the sand, and his eyes swept over the expanse of the arena with the intent of memorization. Luciaro would be an opponent against whom Leonidas could only barely afford to hold back, and that meant he needed to keep his wits about him.
Even if he likely had far more experience in actual combat than the orc, that meant little in the face of overwhelming power¡ªand in many ways, Luciaro was the worst kind of opponent for Leonidas to face. If he had been able to use [Psionic Swordforce] and there was no restriction on killing his opponents, then it would be a far less complex affair.
Unfortunately, he didn¡¯t have the freedom to simply execute his opponents.
The thought pulled him up short almost as soon as he had it. When had he become so desensitized to murder that it was his preference? A flicker of alarm threatened to pierce his nascent Battle Meditation, and Leonidas suppressed it ruthlessly. He could wax ethical and berate himself for his bloodthirst later. At that moment, he had to focus.
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If he didn¡¯t defeat Luciaro, he¡¯d never get a shot at Synthra, and a petty part of him found that to be a far worse cost than losing the chance at Aetherium or an item.
¡°{Aspirants ready!}¡± Cerevil called when Luciaro joined Leonidas on the sands.
The massive orc, easily close to seven feet, removed the warhammer from his back at the same time as Leonidas invested his Mana and summoned his [Archon¡¯s Psiblade] in a flash of scarlet lightning.
¡°{Aspirants salute!}¡±
Luciaro slammed the squared head of his warhammer, its opposite side ending in a massive spike, into the sand and thumped his fist against his breastplate.
Leonidas lifted his psiblade and brought it before him in a duelist¡¯s salute.
¡°{Aspirants¡}¡±
Luciaro lifted his hammer smoothly into both hands and lowered his stance, and Leonidas snapped up and started formulating a plan in his mind at the same time, while his left hand focused on corralling Psi.
¡°{...begin!}¡±
Luciaro lumbered forward with inexorable and powerful strides, and Leonidas stepped up to meet him. The orc swung with his warhammer immediately, and Leonidas ducked the initial attack and let it pass overhead, while simultaneously thrusting his blade for one of the gaps in the orc¡¯s armor.
His larger opponent slapped away the sword-thrust much as Leonidas had done to Zalaza, ironically enough, and brought his warhammer around on a backswing.
Leonidas stepped back, ducked down forward, and stepped to the right to smoothly arc under the weapon and come up at Luciaro¡¯s left. Another stab with his psiblade met only armor this time, and Leonidas grunted under his breath at being foiled once more.
Luciaro lifted his hammer into a two-handed overhead pose, and Leonidas half-dodged, half-danced away from the descending weapon and the subsequent explosion of sand it sent up when it hit. His [Archon¡¯s Psiblade] sliced through the small cloud of obfuscation that filled the air, and his eyes widened at the shadow of something moving toward him.
Leonidas barely managed to drop flat on his knees and bend backward as the orc¡¯s warhammer sailed through the air his head had occupied a heartbeat earlier. A curse of surprise left his lips, and Leonidas threw himself to the left when Luciaro stomped the ground where he¡¯d been kneeling, and rolled up to his feet.
The orc was like a walking fortress. With [Psionic Swordforce] he¡¯d have been able to eviscerate him, but keeping the skill in reserve meant that the armor shielding Luciaro¡¯s body was a massive impediment to his attacks. With enough force, he could puncture it with his psiblade¡ªbut that was also a potentially self-sacrificing move, if the orc had the wherewithal to hit him when he did.
The hammer came back for another reverse swing, and Leondias once again found himself ducking low and dodging right to come up on Luciaro¡¯s left¡ªonly to be met by a sudden impact to his breastplate. Before he could register what had happened beyond pain, Leonidas found himself on his back on the sand, several yards away from Luciaro and at the edge of the arena.
The orc had baited him in, and then kicked him!
Leonidas¡¯ entire body throbbed from the force of the impact, and he was almost positive he¡¯d cracked at least two ribs from the hit. His eyes blinked rapidly to clear the spots from his vision, and he pushed himself up to his elbows to see the orc lumbering steadily toward him, and only feet away.
That was not good.
Leonidas rolled sideways to the jeering of the crowd and staggered to his feet while thankfully having instinctively held onto his sword. He¡¯d wanted to take the larger warrior with guile instead of anything else, but that had clearly been a fool¡¯s errand. His eyes moved across Luciaro¡¯s massive physique, and settled on the orc¡¯s warhammer.
If he wanted to win, then he needed to do so by disabling the largest threat to him, first.
Leonidas¡¯ left hand curled into a fist when he made his decision, and he turned to promptly put as much distance between himself and the semi-rapidly approaching orc as possible. His stamina depleted at an alarming rate while he ran, but Leonidas ignored it and put on as much speed as his armored form could muster. Laughter rippled through the crowd, but he ignored that too¡ªinstead, he focused inward.
While distantly remaining aware of his rapidly exhausting Stamina, he pulled his attention to his [Cataclysm Core] and the brighter, more solid churn of power it represented within his solar plexus. Might, force, and disastrous power roiled inside the space it occupied, and he once again had the same thought he¡¯d had against Pheona: his Core was growing more solid.
When he¡¯d first developed it, it had been nascent, and more loose energy contained in one location. Now, as he reached toward the end of his Formation levels, his Core was solidifying somewhat. It now had the vaguely circular shape it would likely assume with permanence during his first Tempering and Cultivation Tier, and he could feel that the energy within was¡ denser, somehow.
More potent, as well.
It was that source of condensed power into which Leonidas reached, and opened the proverbial sluice gates for the first time¡ªtruly¡ªsince the tournament had begun. Volatile power exploded like the unleashed force of a tsunami through his veins, and he felt his concerns and doubts evaporate like they¡¯d never existed. His sprinting pace abruptly arrested itself, and Leonidas skidded through the sand while turning toward the towering orc.
Luciaro had not attempted to match his speed, and had simply waited for him to finish his run, by the looks of the orc¡¯s positioning¡ªand that was just fine with Leonidas. His Battle Meditation melded with the ravaging thirst for destruction his [Cataclysm Core] incited within his eidos, and Leonidas flexed his left hand at his side.
The Psi he¡¯d been building formed into an invisible dagger built by his [Psikinetic Blade], and he waited while his Stamina steadily refilled, and his breathing began to stabilize.
The clarion call to war roared through his veins, and his Cataclysm Mana seared his channels with violent power. His body had somewhat adapted to the violence of his power, though the pins-and-knives feeling of the mana never quite faded. Leonidas could only revel in the clarity of purpose the rage and pain gave him, while simultaneously keeping it corralled by his on-going Battle Meditation.
When Luciaro lumbered across the halfway point and closed distance, and Leonidas¡¯ own Stamina reserves filled properly; he launched himself forward to meet the towering orc.
This time, Leonidas didn¡¯t make the mistake of testing his guard.
The moment the two came into range, Leonidas threw a light stab at Luciaro¡¯s left shoulder, and when the orc used his warhammer to deflect the attack, Leonidas smiled under his helmet. He stepped back, disengaged to reset, and then danced back into the orc¡¯s guard immediately.
Leonidas ducked the close-range swing that came from the orc as a result, and when he did, he lifted his left hand. Cataclysm Mana surged into the [Psikinetic Blade] he¡¯d created in his fist, and as the warhammer sailed past, Leonidas hid his hand behind his back. Once again he side-stepped away from a kick sent by the orc, and after waiting for Luciaro to have his hammer at the ready, sent another stab forward¡ªthis time for the orc¡¯s vulnerable gorget.
As expected, Luciaro brought his hammer around close to try to deflect the assumed fatal strike.
When he did, Leonidas slammed his hidden left hand into the exposed flat surface of the warhammer¡¯s head.
The psikinetic weapon cut into the normal metal like it were butter, and though the puncture was razor thin, due to Leonidas hyper-compressing the blade¡¯s edge like it were swordforce, it was not just Psi.
The Cataclysm Mana reacted with expected results.
Leonidas flared his [Psikinetic Shield] in-front of the hammer¡¯s head with fully half his remaining Psi.
The weapon exploded like a fragmentation grenade. Shrapnel eviscerated Luciaro in a storm of metal, and his helmet was sheared through in several places, where metal pieces embedded themselves in his chest, his head, and his torso. The orc stumbled drunkenly from the attack, and even his hands spasmed from the ruination the exploding metal had put them through.
The crowd exploded into shouts when it did, and Leonidas ignored their yells, screams, and even hollers of approval and took his blade into both hands while dismissing the [Psikinetic Shield].
¡°Sixth Sword Art,¡± he snarled under his helmet, ¡°Pierce the Mountain!¡±
Leonidas wrapped a partial layer of [Psionic Swordforce] around the tip of his blade, and punched it home through Luciaro¡¯s abdomen like the avenging fist of a god.
The orc staggered backward when the sword impaled itself in his gut, and fell to his knees while still trying to recover from the fragmentation of his warhammer, and spasming all the while.
Leonidas felt something impact him, and slapped his hand to push it away. The kill was before him, all he had to do was¡ª
This time he felt something powerful take hold of him, and he looked around to find Cerevil gripping his arms like a vise.
¡°{You¡¯ve won,}¡± the elf said tersely under his breath. ¡°{Don¡¯t ruin the victory, Achilles. You¡¯ve won.}¡±
Leonidas breathed heavily at Cerevil¡¯s words, and turned to see Menders rushing toward the twitching and spasming orc, who seemed to be held up solely by his body¡¯s own mass and refusal to fall over. With a grimace, Leonidas sucked in a breath and forced back his Cataclysm Mana, while simultaneously summoning his sword to his hand.
Blood pumped out of the orc¡¯s wound the moment he did, but he paid it no mind.
¡°{Achilles wins the first semi-final round!}¡± Cerevil announced in a voice that may have been slightly shaken to Leonidas¡¯ ears. ¡°{He advances to the finals!}¡±
Leonidas turned away when Cerevil spoke, and marched for the stands.
This time, nobody in the crowd was brave enough to meet his gaze when he did.
Nobody but Synthra.
B1 | Chapter 37: Knight and Sorceress
Leonidas watched Bardulf¡¯s match in cold silence.
The half-lycanus had greeted him with the same warm enthusiasm as ever when he¡¯d returned from his match against Luciaro, though he¡¯d confessed to worrying about Leonidas¡¯ mental state. To that, Leonidas had offered only a polite thanks and a reassurance he was fine¡ªwhich, of course, he was not.
Though it wasn¡¯t for the reasons Bardulf had suspected.
His blue eyes traced the Shadowblade as he teleported once again into Synthra¡¯s shadow, and attempted to pierce the mana shield protecting the Sorceress¡¯ body¡ªonly to fail once more, and be forced back by a blistering mix of offensive sword strikes and surprisingly adroit martial arts that actually allowed her to challenge the Rogue Archetype in close quarters.
The reason for Leonidas¡¯ mental state was, of course, his concern for the progressively more violent tendencies his [Cataclysm Core] was inspiring within him. It wasn¡¯t that he was new to the idea of bloodlust, of course; he¡¯d experienced that plenty during the War against Azrageth, and he¡¯d learned to cope with the blanket of its influence. What bothered him was that there was a clear loss of control that occurred, and then rapidly spiraled, when he let his focus waver for even a second.
His [Cataclysm Core] wasn¡¯t even fully formed, and yet Leonidas¡ªdespite half a decade of disciplined Cultivation and nightmarish warfare of the worst kind he had ever heard, seen, or read about¡ªwas as susceptible to its influence as a child was to well-made propaganda. It wasn¡¯t an overt or loud thing, but instead a susurration of destructive intent that subtly urged him toward his most primal and brutal nature.
By the time he even realized what was happening, and that he had lost control; the Cataclysm Mana had already proliferated through him and subverted his disciplined sense of self-control. It had happened with the Goblins, been somewhat tamed during the Hive Tyrant encounter, and then happened again and even more swiftly against Luciaro. His Core was growing in density and power, and that meant its influence was also becoming both more potent and harder to detect.
That was a combination which disturbed him.
Sometimes, in the moments of most extreme influence, he felt as he had when he¡¯d been at his darkest and most wrathful points on Elatra; after Miranda had died, or when one of his Party had been killed, or he¡¯d found the children Azrageth¡¯s hordes had sacrificed to their dark rituals. There was a part of him, a buried piece that he hated to acknowledge, which roared for destruction.
If Leonidas were truly honest with himself, his success against the Demon Lord and his Hellspawn had been his own ability to match, and even exceed their penchant for unreserved brutality. The things he had done to the Tainted, to Cultists, and to traitors in his own ranks defied every definition of ¡®compassion¡¯ or ¡®mental stability¡¯. In some cases, Leonidas had inspired more terror than the distant specter of Azrageth had ever managed¡ªand done so with no more effort than stepping on an ant.
And it was that part of him, he knew, which his [Cataclysm Core] awakened.
It was a thing forged from Natural Disasters, and there was a reason it had manifested for him.
Leonidas reached up and ran his hands over his helmet with a soft exhale of tension. He probably just needed to see a psychologist, he tried to rationalize. There was no conceivable way he¡¯d escaped five years of a literal hellwar without some measure of post-traumatic stress disorder, and he was probably just manifesting a ¡®coping mechanism¡¯ for his memories or something.
In the arena below, Synthra and Bardulf continued to exchange blows, and the Shadowblade was finally beginning to flag. Whether it was his mixed blood or simply innate talent, he¡¯d managed to evade or counter-attack every major attempt at landing a hit on him that Synthra had thrown the blond¡¯s way¡ªbut his luck was finally running out.
Bardulf was simply too tired to maintain his previous pace of dodging and counter-attacking, while Synthra seemed like she had an entire two other reserves of energy to pull from. The red sorceress was launching rapidfire and overwhelming attacks on the half-elf, and Leonidas narrowed his eyes in focus so as not to miss her tactics. For all her prowess, there was a pattern to Synthra¡¯s sword-strikes¡ªand while relying on it as an absolute was folly, the knowledge could help immensely.
When the end came, it was both swift and brutal.
Bardulf side-stepped where he should have back-stepped, and Synthra¡¯s free right hand¡ªshe was apparently ambidextrous on top of everything else, and could wield her blade with either hand¡ªslapped against his leather-clad right side.
Synthra smirked at him at the exact same time as Bardulf¡¯s expression fell in realization, and a moment later the Shadowblade was blasted out of the arena by a detonation of fire magic. It was a non-fatal blow, Leonidas understood immediately, but it achieved her objective all the same: Bardulf smashed into the bottom of one of the nearby stands with a crunch, and at the same time, left the bounds of the arena.
It was an elimination by ring out, and very likely by knockout as well.
The immediate call for ¡°{Mender!}¡± solidified the results, and Leonidas settled back in his seat in silence. All eyes turned to him when he did, but he paid them no heed. The only pair he had time for were the topaz ones fixed on him from under Synthra¡¯s red bangs.
¡°{Synthra wins!}¡± Cerevil declared clearly a moment later. ¡°{By ring out, victory is hers. She will be given a reprieve to recover her¡ª}¡±
¡°{I have already recovered, Cerevil.}¡± Synthra cut across him with her gaze fixed on Leonidas. ¡°{My Mana is full. I have no injuries. I am in one hundred percent condition and want¡ª}¡± her flaming sword rose, and Leonidas¡¯ lips curled upward at the corners when it pointed at him ¡°{¡ªmy final match.}¡±
Cerevil glanced between Synthra and Leonidas, and there almost seemed to be concern in the proctor¡¯s voice when he spoke. ¡°{Are you certain that you are¡ª}¡±
¡°{Let them fight, Cerevil.}¡±
All eyes turned at the sound of a new voice, and even Leonidas and Synthra looked over in surprise. From the north-eastern gap between the east and north stands, and from the direction of the guild house; both Sinalthria and Ceruviel stepped forward side-by-side. Both women received shocked and awed looks, and the former grinned in an all-too-draconic manner.
¡°{This is the Adventurers¡¯ Guild,}¡± Sinalthria declared in a carrying and throaty voice. ¡°{There is no room for those who shy from danger, or overestimate themselves and fall as a result. If my daughter says she¡¯s ready to fight, Cerevil, then let her fight. The consequences of haste will be hers to bear.}¡±
Synthra¡¯s back straightened fully at her mother¡¯s words, and when she turned back to Leonidas, there was a look of predatory intensity in her topaz gaze. His own eyes turned toward Ceruviel, but his mentor studiously ignored him¡ªoutwardly, at least.
Mentally, though, she spoke.
+{Synthra is the strongest of this year¡¯s Aspirants. The only reason she wasn¡¯t already part of the guild is Sinalthria¡¯s overprotective nature. You are still forbidden from using Swordforce, but consider this part of your pre-tempering. You cannot always rely on that one skill, no matter its power, and Synthra is not an enemy for which it was made regardless.}+
Leonidas¡¯ body relaxed at Ceruviel¡¯s words, and he stared back down at the Sorceress. He¡¯d suspected as much himself, and thankfully he¡¯d been using his time during the tournament wisely to prepare.
¡°{Very well, Guild Mistress,}¡± Cerevil said, though he was perhaps more flustered by the arrival of Ceruviel, whom he seemed to be spasming not to salute or kneel to. Instead he turned to the audience, and raised a hand in indication. ¡°{The Championship Match between Achilles and Synthra will now commence!}¡±
All eyes turned to Leonidas, and he rose from his seat with a creak of warplate at the declaration. One breath in, one breath out, and supreme focus were his only thoughts for the moment. He would need every ounce of his [Cataclysm Core]¡¯s power for what was to come, and yet he also needed a level head.
Brutality served him well against most opponents, but against Synthra, he would need the honed focus he¡¯d held against the Hive Tyrant. If he failed, and let himself fall prey to his own bloodlust like he had against Luciaro, he¡¯d be destroyed.
That knowledge of an inevitable defeat should he lose focus was a fantastic buoy for his Willpower.
His hand extended out while he descended, and his [Archon¡¯s Psiblade] dropped into his grip in a flash of scarlet lightning, while his gaze settled on Synthra¡¯s and remained fixed there the entire time he descended through the taut silence of the watching Aspirants. The entire crowd seemed frozen in observation, and be it a desire to see him soundly defeated or to chance a glance at Synthra herself tasting humility, Leonidas couldn¡¯t have cared less.
All he knew was that the Red Sorceress could give him a true challenge.
It would be the first time in recent memory that someone did. On Elatra, only Azrageth had been able to stand against him one-on-one in the end, and at that stage Leonidas¡¯ power had been enough to sunder mountains with a sword swing. On Earth, since he returned; his greatest challenges had been goblins and a gigantic bug.
Within the same round as he¡¯d met them, he¡¯d all but obliterated both.
Synthra represented something different, something he hadn¡¯t encountered since his early days training with Miranda¡¯s Knights: a true peer opponent, one strong enough to threaten him, but not so strong as to be insurmountable like Ceruviel or the Swarm Tyrants. Synthra was a conquerable goal, but one that would require every iota of his skill, knowledge, and combat prowess.
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She would push him, challenge him, and force him to use every trick and tactic in the book to eke out a victory. It was a kind of exhilaration that he hadn¡¯t experienced in a long time. So long, in fact, that he¡¯d very nearly forgotten the feeling entirely. He¡¯d been tossed around and been forced under the sway of a multitude of different circumstances and forces since his Return, and this was the first time he had the chance to do something for himself.
He wanted to fight her. He wanted to beat her. He wanted to put her on her back.
It was his entire focus in that moment, and he wanted her for his own reasons.
¡°{Aspirants ready!}¡± Cerevil called, and Leonidas idly flourished his sword in his grip to familiarize himself with its weight again, just in case his muscle memory needed the refresher. His racing heart made his Battle Meditation difficult, but he focused on it all the more carefully. At the same time, he let his [Cataclysm Core] begin to leak out, and focused hard on noticing and keeping a firm hold over the influence it began to exert immediately.
¡°{Aspirants salute!}¡±
Synthra lifted her sword in a duelist¡¯s salute, and Leonidas did the same.
Both blades snapped out to the right thereafter, and their stances were all but mirrored.
¡°{Aspirants¡}¡±
Leonidas revved his [Cataclysm Core] with measured Intent, and focused on his objective as his Battle Meditation settled shakily over him: Fight smart, win smart. Fight smart, win smart. Fight smart, win smart. Fight¡
Synthra¡¯s left hand joined her right on the hilt of her sword, and she settled onto the balls of her feet. Her eyes literally glowed while he prepared, and Leonidas felt both topaz orbs burning into his sapphire as her slitted pupils narrowed in focus. Everyone else might have seen a curvaceous beauty, but Leonidas saw her for what she truly was in that moment.
A predator, with the hunt before her.
His [Cataclysm Core] roared.
¡°{...fight!}¡±
Cerevil¡¯s arm dropped.
Leonidas activated [Chivalric Charge] at the same moment as the soles of Synthra¡¯s feet exploded into a twinned blaze of sand-glassing fire.
They met in the middle with an explosion of force, blade to blade, and the crowd roared.
Leonidas and Synthra spun away from the deadlock at the same instant, and came back in almost choreographed precision to meet in the middle once more. When they did, Leonidas realized immediately that he was at the disadvantage. His armor buoyed his body weight and stability, but there was a palpable superiority to Synthra¡¯s physical power alone that defied his ability to overcome through force.
She was stronger, faster, and more immediately magically potent than him.
But Leonidas was more experienced.
When Synthra made to press the attack against him after seemingly realizing her advantage, Leonidas catalyzed an immediate small-scale usage of his [Psikinetic Shield] around her aggressive foot. It didn¡¯t hold, but that wasn¡¯t the point, given his minimal Psi expenditure.
It tripped her up just enough that her attack lost its disciplined precision.
And Leonidas pressed the advantage immediately as a result.
Synthra¡¯s expression flickered with surprise when he surged forward and struck her with as much force and speed as his Attributes could muster, all while the [Cataclysm Core] in his body raged ever more greatly, like a tempest boiling with primordial fury in his solar plexus.
Synthra parried, and Leonidas used her sword as a springboard to back-step and come back at her again, all while steadily building the Cataclysm Mana in his body toward his palms. Once again Synthra met him blade for blade, and this time they exchanged a quick flurry of blows.
She was faster, she was stronger, she was more dexterous.
But Leonidas was a blademaster tempered in war.
The most imperative thing he noticed when they fought was that Synthra did not have the experience to vary her fighting style. Each blow was powerful, each move exact, and each step swift and overwhelming¡ªbut only by merit of her physical capability.
Synthra was telegraphing everything.
After the first few exchanges, Leonidas realized she was repetitive¡ªand he pounced on that like the blood-baptized Knight he was. Her rote training gave her advanced sword techniques, but zero creativity, and the rigidity of her adherence to what she¡¯d been taught gave him an opening. He couldn¡¯t outfight her in power, but he could out-duel her in skill.
Synthra¡¯s superior Attributes only served to grant her an advantage, but they failed to grant her victory, and Leonidas noticed the moment she went from cold confidence to a flicker of surprised frustration. His psiblade sang through the air in opposition to the whooshing crackle of her firesword, and the pair of them exchanged blow after blow.
A dodge here, a riposte there, a rapid series of parried slashes, and deflected cuts, all of which were followed each time by a climactic slam of sword against sword.
Synthra leaned into the deadlock like Leonidas did, and the beautiful redhead¡¯s features were twisted in concentration.
¡°You can¡¯t win, imposter.¡± she growled in English during one-such exchange.
¡°Imposter?¡± he asked while stepping sideways and out of the deadlock, causing her momentary overexertion to overbalance her when she started to answer.
¡°All you have is tricks!¡± she spat while recovering quickly and spinning back with a ferocious slash, which he parried with the aid of another [Psikinetic Shield] to trip her up and throw off her accuracy. ¡°You¡¯re just another haughty noble with more pride than purpose!¡±
¡°Geeze,¡± Leonidas said in a strained voice while sidestepping a vicious oberhau and slamming his pommel into the back of her passing shoulder blades¡ªagainst her indomitable mana shield¡ªwhen she overstepped. ¡°I think you¡¯re projecting, princess.¡±
The Cataclysm Mana in his veins screamed at him to be used, and he was focused on keeping it controlled until the moment he needed it. The strain it created was as physical as it was mental, and despite that, he didn¡¯t try to suppress its spread. Instead he continued to let it build, and worked to channel the already-rising levels of bloodlust into a kind of furious focus, while pushing the limit of his Willpower.
¡°Don¡¯t call me that!¡± she growled back while spinning and pressing another series of solid, but predictable sword slashes at him. She had speed, she had force, she had coordination¡ªbut she lacked battle-won versatility, and that meant Leonidas could not just keep up with her, but he could even press her with skill alone.
¡°You¡¯re already flagging, imposter!¡± she crowed victoriously while attacking once more.
¡°Am I?¡± he asked while dodging a telegraphed stab and responding with a swift upper-cut to her torso, which again met her mana armor to no effect. ¡°Am I really?¡±
¡°Accept defeat,¡± she said with a hint of frustration, and while stepping into his guard and shoulder-ramming him backward into a momentary retreat. ¡°Surrender, and I won¡¯t maim you too horribly for your trespass!¡±
¡°Oho?¡± Leonidas asked while side-stepping an elegant roundhouse and slamming his blade against her ribs. The mana in his body was screaming at him to be used, and he could barely manage to suppress it anymore. He needed to put her into the trap he¡¯d been laying with his blows. He needed her to take it.
He needed her distracted.
¡°Do tell me more, princess.¡±
Synthra¡¯s golden-orange eyes widened in outrage.
¡°Screw you!¡± she spat angrily, and surged toward him with her blade leading.
Leonidas expelled the most amount of Psi so far, and placed two shields precisely where needed to ruin her stance and make her stumble. In her anger, Synthra hit both of them, and cursed loudly at his ¡®inane tricks¡¯.
While she did, Leonidas braced himself and ramped the Cataclysm Mana in his body. When he did, he stepped forward and Leonidas took an aggressive stance with as much telegraphing as he could offer without making even her aware of what he was doing. She was inexperienced, but she was not stupid. Synthra would have recognized the trap for what it was, if he were too obvious.
Luckily, he had her mounting anger on his side, too.
The moment Synthra saw his stance and set herself up for a parry through instinct and basic training, Leonidas activated a skill he had never used up until that point; neither in the arena nor in the guild tournament.
Stamina bled from him, and [Coup de Force: Premier] blazed in his mind.
The Knight skill suffused his limbs with enhanced strength, speed, and precision and Leonidas full-body slashed her parrying blade with three times his normal power.
It wasn¡¯t simply an additive effect, it was multiplicative.
Synthra¡¯s eyes widened, but it was too late.
His [Archon¡¯s Psiblade]¡¯s hit Synthra¡¯s weapon with the force and speed of three times Leonidas¡¯ physical capability, sheared through her sword, and slashed across her mana armor.
The sorceress was blasted off her feet by the kinetic impact alone.
The crowd screamed their adulation, their disappointment, and their shock when the red sorceress was taken off her feet for the first time in the tournament¡ªand sent careening back along the sand with a shout of surprise.
Leonidas, meanwhile, knew he couldn¡¯t give her a chance to easily recover.
His Core revved harder in his solar plexus, and he gave chase while keeping one half of his mind focused on controlling his impulses. The mana in his system was reaching a dangerous level, and he needed to execute his plan.
Synthra was rising to her feet when Leonidas closed the distance, and the sorceress snarled something and thrust her left hand at him with purpose. Leonidas¡¯ eyes widened under his helmet, and he barely managed to throw himself aside before a wave of superheated flame exploded from Synthra¡¯s palm, and glassed an entire swathe of sand.
He rolled to his feet quickly after the dive, and made a snap decision: he continued his advance toward the sorceress with every ounce of Agility he could tap into.
His eyes snapped reflexively to look at the shimmering, surface-level sparkle of flash-blown glass and then turned back to Synthra. If her eyes had been intense before, now there was murder lurking behind her gaze. The sorceress scowled at him and reached up to brush her hair out of her face, blowing at a few strands angrily in an affectation that was jarringly feminine, and then raising her hand as if to fling another wave of fire at him.
Before she could, Leonidas slapped aside her hand with a conjured square of [Psikinetic Shield], and pivoted into a spinning slash at her waist. Synthra¡¯s blade moved to block, but it was too late.
Leonidas¡¯ psiblade impacted her mana armor, and when it did, he felt the impact as if he¡¯d struck a steel wall. It radiated up his arms like an echo of regret, and he grit his teeth against the feeling.
The sorceress¡¯ gaze snapped down to his sword, then back up to him, and she smirked in what he thought might have even been a measure of relief.
¡°That was a nice trick before,¡± she admitted quietly, ¡°but you still failed.¡±
¡°No,¡± Leonidas answered while lurching forward and pressing his palm against her taut, mana-shielded stomach, ¡°I succeeded.¡±
¡°What are you¡ª¡±
Cataclysm Mana erupted from his palm in a wave, and met her mana shield a second later. Destructive force of transcendent power crashed into aspected natural mana, and the result was as cataclysmic as Leonidas had suspected it would be.
Synthra¡¯s mana armor let out a whine at the point of contact.
Her topaz eyes widened in shock.
¡°Boom.¡± Leonidas said simply.
The mana detonated like a bomb, and the world turned white.
B1 | Chapter 38: Achilles
Leonidas snapped back to awareness with a desperate heave of air, pressed his palms against the compact earth, and scrambled to his feet with a surge of adrenaline. His vision was dark with remnant spots from the explosion he had catalyzed, and he could hear a high-pitched ringing in his ears as he staggered upright. His sword was gone from his right hand, and he summoned it back without thinking while trying to force himself to stand upright.
An almost instinctive glance at his HUD told him he¡¯d lost over half his health, and he didn¡¯t need the indicator to know that something was wrong with him. Still, he had a fight to win¡ªand there was no way he¡¯d given up without giving his all. His sword was a reassuring weight in his hands, and he blinked rapidly while trying to use his [Psionic Focus] to supplement his damaged vision.
What he could see of the arena was a small spread of thin columns of smoke surrounding a single larger one at their center, with the smell of burning ozone stark in the area. His vision tilted slightly from nausea, and Leonidas fought to reorient himself when he felt his stance drifting. His eyes blinked rapidly to try to clear the obstructing elements occluding his vision, and he swallowed painfully against the feeling of a heat-scorched throat.
His gaze moved in and out of focus, and Leonidas focused on putting one foot in front of the other while stepping back onto the sand and across the less stable surface of the sandy arena.
A high-pitched ringing in both ears warned him he¡¯d suffered considerable damage to his eardrums, and that it would be affecting his equilibrium; but Leonidas only filed it away and marshaled himself forward with unerring determination. Even in the face of disaster, before this, he¡¯d never let his goals be supplanted by his own failing body¡ªand he wasn¡¯t about to start now.
His eyes moved around the arena, and he saw that the stands themselves were untouched by the explosion he had set off. That was apparently thanks to what appeared to be shimmering barriers of Psi, wrapped over the front of each set of seats in thick enough amounts that even his untrained mind could perceive it with clear ease.
Leonidas momentarily wondered at the source of them, and then chuckled distractedly at his own delirium. There was only one person that could have generated the barriers, and she was standing¡ Where had she been standing?
¡°Achilles.¡±
Ceruviel¡¯s voice pulled at his attention and broke through the ringing in his ears, and Leonidas turned instinctively toward it. He saw Ceruviel moving toward him at a leisurely pace across the sand, with a look of mild concern on her features. The silver-haired duchess regarded him with a raised eyebrow when she drew closer, and her lavender eyes¡ªglowing still¡ªappraised him with a quick once-over.
¡°Ceruviel?¡± he asked with a measure of annoyance. ¡°Why are you interrupting my match?¡±
¡°Achilles¡¡±
¡°I have no time for this, Ceruviel,¡± he said while turning away from her and narrowing his still-afflicted gaze on the arena. ¡°I have to get over there and¡ª¡±
¡°Achilles,¡± Ceruviel said again, ¡°the match is already over.¡±
Leonidas paused mid-step, and glanced back at the Haelfenn woman.
¡°What?¡±
¡°It¡¯s over,¡± Ceruviel repeated again, and Leonidas was distantly aware she was speaking English. ¡°The match was called a few moments ago, just before you regained consciousness.¡±
Leonidas stared at her for a moment, and then turned back to the nearby arena with a frown. The crowd, he noticed distantly, was shockingly silent. ¡°Did I hit her that hard?¡±
Ceruviel sighed quietly before speaking again. ¡°Look where you were standing.¡±
Leonidas looked back at her words, and then frowned in annoyance.
¡°Yes, Ceruviel, it¡¯s grass. I know what grass is. What¡¯s your¡?¡±
His voice trailed off when the realization crashed into him.
He had woken up on grass, not sand. The arena was made entirely of sand up to its boundaries. Beyond that was the grassy earth of the grounds, and more importantly, the elimination zone of the match.
¡°Fuck,¡± he said hoarsely. ¡°Fuck!¡±
Ceruviel said nothing when he raised his sword over his head, and with an angry shout, slammed it against the sand like a club. The anger bled from him like air from a punctured balloon when he did, and he let out a low and discontented sigh.
¡°What happened?¡± he asked simply.
¡°That is something I would like to know,¡± Ceruviel said in a quiet voice.
¡°The last thing I remember,¡± he muttered, ¡°I hit Synthra with an attack¡ª¡±
¡°And very nearly blew up the arena in the process, yes.¡± Ceruviel said with a sigh. ¡°If not for my intercession, you very likely would have killed some of the weaker spectators.¡±
¡°I didn¡¯t think it would be that powerful,¡± he admitted honestly.
¡°No normal ability should be, when it¡¯s used at level eight,¡± Ceruviel replied with clear exasperation, ¡°but you are very clearly not just another Untempered Aspirant, Achilles. Whatever you did, it shattered Synthra¡¯s protective shield and very nearly shattered Synthra.¡±
Leonidas looked up at Ceruviel¡¯s words, and a thread of guilt wound its way through him. He had wanted to defeat the princess, certainly, but not genuinely harm her in any permanent way.
¡°Is she¡?¡±
Ceruviel shook her head while turning back to look at the sand, and gesturing idly. ¡°Luckily for your immediate lifespan, the girl is a talented magus and managed to expel the vast majority of the reactive force away from herself, though only a second before it would have torn her apart.¡±
¡°Oh,¡± Leonidas said with genuine relief. ¡°Good.¡±
¡°¡®Good¡¯ he says, as if that covers it,¡± Ceruviel muttered with a mirthless chuckle.
¡°Better than the alternative,¡± he said while glancing at his still-depleted health bar. ¡°And for that matter, probably better than me. I think I¡¯m in shock.¡±
Ceruviel lifted her hand and a shimmering health potion dropped into it from seemingly nowhere. ¡°Drink,¡± she commanded simply.
Leonidas wasn¡¯t too proud to accept her offer, and pushed up the shield of his helmet enough to uncork the potion and drink it down. The moment he did, and when the multi-flavored elixir flooded his body, he felt as much as heard bones, tendons, joints, and other parts of himself either repairing, or popping back into proper position from minor dislocations he¡¯d barely even noticed.
¡°I¡¯m going to need to eat again,¡± he said after finishing the potion.
¡°We can deal with that after what comes next.¡±
Leonidas raised his eyebrow under his helmet and slid the metal back into place when the potion bottle vanished into motes, and his hearing and eyesight rapidly returned enough to normalcy for him to see that several more guild officials had entered the area¡ªand that the audience was both transfixed on him, and on what he could now make out was Synthra and Sinalthria standing with Cerevil at the center of the arena.
¡°Is there a problem?¡± he asked with a flicker of anxiety, and a sense of self-preserving caution. ¡°I didn¡¯t break any rules.¡±
¡°You didn¡¯t,¡± Ceruviel said in agreement.
¡°Then what¡¯s the problem?¡± he asked warily.
¡°The problem, Achilles, is that you just forced a prodigy among Sorcerers to the limits of her ability, while not even having undergone your first Temper, and while wielding a magic nobody understands.¡± Ceruviel said flatly. ¡°Your Affinity is supposed to be Psi.¡±
¡°It is Psi,¡± Leonidas grumbled while looking down at his cracked and scorched breastplate, and realizing how lucky he had been to be wearing the armor in the first place. In something less durable, he¡¯d probably have lost a few vital organs from the damage of the explosion.
¡°And while that is true,¡± Ceruviel continued sharply, ¡°Psi doesn¡¯t react with enough volatility to other magic to shatter Draconic Manaforce.¡±
¡°What about my identity?¡± he asked finally. ¡°Am I still¡ª¡±
¡°No, you can forget about hiding it. At this point it¡¯ll just be idiotic, and besides, it¡¯s a better debut than most could hope for. The drama of it will cement you in the minds of all present, too.¡±
¡°I thought you wanted me to keep our association a secret?¡± Leonidas asked while Ceruviel started walking, and he fell in behind the shorter¡ªthough still tall for her gender¡ªDuchess.
¡°I did, to avoid the others pulling punches for fear of reprisal. Now, though, it¡¯s moot. You¡¯ll likely never see most of these Aspirants again, given your potential.¡±
Leonidas sighed at Ceruviel¡¯s words, but couldn¡¯t fault them. She was right.
Most of the people that had participated, with barely a handful of notable exceptions, had been strong speaking relatively¡ªbut he had seen firsthand that they lacked meaningful combat experience, and that alone made them a liability in situations he was likely to find himself in as Ceruviel¡¯s Squire.
When the two of them approached Synthra, Sinalthria, and Cerevil; all three turned to face them, and several of the other guild officials almost seemed ready to step forward¡ªuntil they saw Ceruviel. The moment their eyes fully focused on the Dusk-Lord, all of them went still again, and at her approach even the crowd quietened down rapidly.
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Nobody spoke during their walk over, except for Sinalthria.
¡°{Is he alright?}¡± she asked simply, and drew a surprised glance from Synthra when she did.
¡°{He¡¯ll live,}¡± Ceruviel said with a slight shrug. ¡°{As expected.}¡±
Sinalthria turned to Leonidas after Ceruviel¡¯s words, and her eyes were unblinking and intent. ¡°{You nearly killed my daughter, Achilles.}¡±
Leonidas grimaced under his helmet, and settled into a parade rest instead of bowing or asking for forgiveness. He had a feeling the half-dragon guild mistress wanted neither, and he wouldn¡¯t give it to her even if she did¡ªweak or not, he was nobody¡¯s stooge. Ceruviel¡¯s mentorship was a mutually beneficial arrangement, but this would be different.
¡°{It was never my intention to do harm to your daughter, Guild Mistress.}¡± Leonidas said honestly. ¡°{Pinning Synthra down was my only objective, not killing her. Having her on her back would have more than achieved the victory I sought.}¡±
It was very true, of course. He¡¯d considered that the only way to truly defeat Synthra was through physically overpowering her, or backing her into a completely no-win scenario with his sword at her throat. Pinning her down, in that case, was the only reasonable way to expect that to happen.
To his momentary surprise, Ceruviel, Sinalthria, Cerevil, and every eye in the crowd focused on him at his words¡ªand before Leonidas could say anything more, Synthra broke the silence.
¡°{You dare?!}¡± the redhead said shrilly.
¡°{I only spoke the truth,}¡± Achilles responded with a flash of irritation, and a surge of annoyance at her continued attitude. She¡¯d already won, whether by technical knock-out or not. It seemed downright ridiculous to keep acting so haughty after the fact. ¡°{Conquering you would have been poetic justice, princess. Your indignation is not and was not my concern, only your surrender to me mattered.}¡±
¡°{Oh?}¡± Sinalthria cut in intently. ¡°{Is that your truth, Achilles?}¡±
¡°{Of course it is!}¡± Leonidas said without hesitation. ¡°{Your daughter, for all her prodigious strength, is too haughty by half, Guild Mistress. Forgive me for saying so, but putting her in her place would have been a satisfaction beyond description.}¡±
¡°{Hm...}¡± Sinalthria said thoughtfully, and while looking at Synthra, who was of a height with or perhaps even slightly taller than her mother. ¡°{Very well. I¡¯ll allow it, if that is your decision.}¡±
¡°{MOTHER!}¡±
¡°{Thank you, Guild Mistress.}¡± Leonidas said with genuine gratitude. He hadn¡¯t expected Sinalthria to be so willing to allow a potential rematch, given how overprotective Bardulf had made her out to be, and from what Ceruviel had inferred about his life expectancy as it related to harm befalling Synthra. He wasn¡¯t about to look at a gift dragon in the maw, though. ¡°{I will pursue the matter with absolute dedication. You have my word.}¡±
A wave of gasps went through the crowd at his declaration, and Leonidas shook his head. If the idea he wanted a rematch shocked them that much, it only further proved their lack of meaningful experience. The idea of so easily letting go of the pounding he owed the redhead Sorceress was antithetical to him. Call it competitive spirit, or simple pride: he wouldn¡¯t be satisfied until she was firmly pinned beneath him.
¡°{Before we go any further,}¡± Cerevil cut in a little hesitantly, ¡°{I will now announce the official result.}¡±
Leonidas sighed at Cerevil¡¯s words, but braced himself without comment.
¡°{Achilles has lost by ring-out, and despite a mutual loss of consciousness, Synthra is the victor by merit of staying inside the ring in the immediate aftermath of their final clash. As such, I hereby declared that Synthra has taken first place in this year¡¯s Elite Slayer License Trial!}¡±
A wave of cheers and applause rolled through the crowd, and yet to Leonidas¡¯ surprise, Synthra remained unfazed by the recognition. Instead, she was staring at Leonidas with what he might have charitably called a mix of indignation and, perhaps, overt loathing.
She was so angry, he realized, that her face had turned bright red all the way along her long not-quite-elven ears.
¡°{As the winner and runner up, it is tradition that you properly introduce yourselves, so that your soon-to-be peers may know you and seek you out in future should they wish to join your party.}¡±
Leonidas raised his eyebrows at Cerevil¡¯s words, and glanced at Ceruviel, who spoke to him directly in his mind.
+{Name yourself as Achilles, and tell them you are my Squire. They need not know anything else.}+
Leonidas nodded slightly to show he heard her, and walked toward Cerevil.
When he did, he let out a breath and with a flash of Intent, dismissed his [Archon¡¯s Warplate].
The reaction that followed was not what he expected.
* * * * *
Synthra stood in mortified silence while Cerevil spoke, and fought against the furious blush that warmed her cheeks and ears. How her mother had ever entertained the notion of allowing the arrogant imposter to pursue her was beyond her comprehension! Sinalthria had, with no hesitation, given her blessing for a complete stranger to chase after Synthra like it were an arranged betrothal!
Her fingers itched to slap against her cheeks in embarrassment to hide the blush, and she forced herself to grip the fabric of her battle robes and focus on Cerevil instead. At least she would gain something out of this whole mess: she¡¯d get to see the face of her new enemy, and in doing so, perhaps be able to discern exactly which Haelfenn bloodline he hailed from.
There were always tells and markers, from the ear shape and length, to the eye shape, jawline, cheek structure, et cetera. Psionic talent was good too, as it narrowed the scope of her search, though the magic ¡®Achilles¡¯ had used to shatter her [Draconic Manaforce] barrier was a question mark her mother had refused to elucidate upon.
Sinalthria knew something. It was clear that her mother had schemed to put Achilles into the same License Test as her, but for what purpose she wasn¡¯t certain. The courting proposal had clearly been as unexpected for Sinalthria as it had been for Synthra, and yet her mother had entertained it!
That only raised even more questions, not to mention the fact that Ceruviel seemed to know the imposter, as well. That had been a rude surprise. When she¡¯d seen her surrogate aunt make her way over to the imposter and greet him for all the world like a distant nephew, she¡¯d begun wondering immediately at their relationship.
Now, with ¡®Achilles¡¯ finally being forced to reveal himself to the world, she would finally be able to put an identity to her loathing.
When his armor flashed away in a crackle of scarlet lightning, Synthra blinked her eyes against the momentary burst of radiance¡ªand then, the instant she saw him, felt her heart stop.
He was as tall as his armor had led her to believe, but that was the only thing that was within her estimation.
Achilles stood just over two meters tall, based on the measurement system she preferred, or over six and a half feet based on local nomenclature. His hair, which fell in wavy strands of jet black to his shoulders, framed a pair of eyes as deep and blue as the sky above her head. His jawline was strong and pronounced, his shoulders broad, and he had visible musculature on his arms, legs, and under the stylish black and silver attire he wore.
His movements were as assured as they had been on the arena, but without the armor, she could see the smaller details; the way he held himself like a general, or a prince, approaching a subject. The way his shoulders never hunched, never bowed, and showed no hint of submission. The way he held his chin up slightly while he walked, and the depth of cold intensity in his eyes that spoke to immense experience.
Achilles, she realized, was nothing like the rest of them. This was an Aspirant, a Knight, that had seen war. She could see it as clear as day, and she knew with instinctive awareness that the rest of their Trial class could as well. They had been in the Arena not with another inexperienced trainee, but with a honed warrior.
Most of all, she noticed he was completely, entirely, and without any shadow of a doubt Terran.
When he came to a halt beside Cerevil, and his eyes met hers fully, Synthra felt her heart thundering in her breast, and her breath hitch in her throat. She had prepared herself for so many scenarios, so many truths, and convinced herself of so many different realities: he was an imposter, a noble, a braggart, a fiend, a leche, a haughty Haelfenn with more pride than sense¡
In none of her wildest theories was he, in fact, a full-blooded Terran.
In none of her most remote possibilities was he a perfect fit for his namesake.
Even Cerevil seemed momentarily stunned, and it wasn¡¯t until Achilles turned to him and raised an eyebrow that the guild official remembered himself and spoke. ¡°{Ah. Achilles. Good to finally see your face. I didn¡¯t expect you to be¡}¡±
¡°{Terran?}¡± Achilles asked in his usual baritone, and yet somehow it was different without his helmet. Smoother, warmer, and more commanding. Synthra felt her hands shaking and folded them tightly at the base of her spine to control them. ¡°{My apologies for any deception, unintended or otherwise. I was under instruction to reveal nothing of my identity if it could be avoided.}¡±
¡°{I see,}¡± Cerevil said slowly. ¡°{The Guild Mistress is, of course, to be obeyed.}¡±
¡°{Oh, no, it was not Sinalthria.}¡± Achilles said with a laugh that sent lightning down Synthra¡¯s spine. Mortification bloomed afterward, and she felt herself redden further. What the hell was wrong with her? Why was his laugh affecting her? Just because he was Terran?
No, a traitorous voice in her mind whispered. Because he was so good, you would never have believed he could be Terran.
¡°{Allow me to properly introduce myself,}¡± he continued while turning to the crowd, whom Synthra could see were watching with as much attention as they might give to a riveting theater drama. ¡°{I am Achilles, of Terra¡ªand I am the Squire of Ceruviel Latherian.}¡±
Silence greeted his words, and Synthra felt her jaw nearly drop.
A glance at her mother¡¯s best friend showed the Dusk-Lord of Dawnhaven smirking in amusement, and more than one pair of disbelieving eyes¡ªincluding Cerevil¡¯s¡ªlooked between the two of them. The murmurs of the crowd were already building when he spoke.
¡°{And what level are you currently, Achilles?}¡± Cerevil asked at last.
At this question, Synthra felt herself grow more focused. It was important to know that, she knew, simply so that she and the others could mentally measure his talent against their own.
¡°{I am not sure I am allowed to say,}¡± he said with a slight laugh.
That would make sense. He was probably a little stronger than would normally be allowed. It would explain many things, including how easily he feigned weakness.
¡°{Go ahead, Achilles.}¡± Ceruviel said, and cut through the annoyed murmurs of the crowd like a knife. ¡°{You may as well.}¡±
Synthra smirked to herself slightly. No escaping it, it seemed.
Achilles shrugged at Ceruviel¡¯s words and faced the crowd.
¡°{I am currently halfway through¡ª}¡±
Here we go, Synthra thought eagerly.
¡°{¡ªLevel Eight.}¡± Achilles finished simply.
Synthra¡¯s smile froze on her face.
¡°{You¡}¡± Cerevil swallowed. ¡°{You mean to tell me, Achilles, that you brutalized the other Aspirants, defeated every other contender, and nearly defeated Lady Synthra¡ and you aren¡¯t even Tempered?}¡±
¡°{Yes,}¡± Achilles said with a shrug. ¡°{I am Level Eight.}¡±
Synthra, like the rest of the crowd, looked past him to Ceruviel, whose smirk only widened.
The Duchess simply nodded in confirmation.
Synthra¡¯s ears rang with sudden noise when Ceruviel nodded, and she felt herself grow cold with shock. He was Level Eight. He¡¯d defeated the best of them, fought his way to the top of their License Trial, and almost defeated her in single combat, if not for a technical defeat¡ and he was Level Eight. Achilles was not simply a skilled or talented warrior, but had the potential to be the single most terrifying combatant in the guild¡¯s history.
And at last, her mother¡¯s willingness for him to pursue her made sense.
¡°{Fuck.}¡± Synthra said simply into the silence, and seemingly broke the spell.
The outrage that followed her poignant observation was deafening.
Leonidas Very Rough Concept Art
B1 | Chapter 39: Mother Knows Best
¡°{Mother, I do not consent to your mad agreement with¡ª}¡±
¡°{Synthra, have you ever stopped to consider what happens next?}¡±
Synthra furrowed her eyebrows at her mother¡¯s words, and shut the door to Sinalthria¡¯s office at the top of the Guild House reflexively behind her. What happens next? That was an odd choice of diction, and Synthra couldn¡¯t discern what was meant by it. There was a general meaning and a more nuanced one, but the former was too vague and she had no context for the latter.
¡°{I don¡¯t understand.}¡±
¡°{I know,}¡± Sinalthria said with a sigh, and settled herself down into her luxurious chair. The Terrans called them ¡®executive chairs¡¯, and they were a delightful discovery upon coming to the new world they called home. ¡°{But it¡¯s time you started considering your next steps, not just as my daughter, but as an Adventurer in your own right.}¡±
Synthra blinked at her mother in surprise.
¡°{Mother, are you saying¡?}¡±
¡°{Yes, Synthra. I¡¯m going to let you go Delving.}¡±
Synthra let loose a joyful laugh at her mother¡¯s words, and clapped her hands together in delight. ¡°{That¡¯s wonderful! Thank you, mother! I just need to find a party and¡ªwait¡}¡± Synthra frowned abruptly, and then eyed her mother critically. ¡°{Hold on just a minute, mother. If that¡¯s the case, then why did you say what you did to Achilles?}¡±
¡°{The Terrans have a phrase that struck me after I saw the way he fought against you, and after I recalled his Assessment: ¡®Ride the Lightning¡¯.}¡± Sinalthria said with a thoughtful tone. ¡°{That boy, whether or not anyone else realizes it, is going to shake the foundations of everything we know to be consistent about the System, and about the natural hierarchy of power¡ªunless someone murders him before he manages to.}¡±
¡°{Okay, and what does that have to do with letting him court me, mother?}¡±
Sinalthria sighed at her in a way Synthra knew to be both affectionate and exasperated, and the half-dragon woman that had raised her put her long legs up and rested her shoeless heels on the edge of her massive desk.
¡°{You have always been bored of everyone in your peer bracket, Synthra. Bored, and disinterested. I cannot say it¡¯s wholly your fault, either, given your prodigious skill and talent.}¡±
Her mother tilted her head in the way Synthra knew meant she was being thoughtful, and Synthra moved forward and seated herself on the edge of Sinalthria¡¯s desk, with one foot on the floor and the other hanging idly. She could sense that a long-winded explanation was coming, but she had no intention of trying to circumvent it. She knew better than to make the attempt.
¡°{You were born to be a Sorceress that redefines the term, daughter, and your comprehension of Fire magic is powerful even among Draconic Inheritors. Your grandmother was always so proud of your talent, especially given how diluted your blood is¡ªand yet I know you lack so much when it comes to knowledge of your own nature outside of Magic¡}¡±
Synthra raised an eyebrow at her mother, and Sinalthria looked away toward one of the high, floor-to-ceiling windows. There was the same thoughtful and inflective look on her mother¡¯s face that she¡¯d seen before, when the Guild Mistress spent time staring at her father¡¯s paintings and reminiscing about the only man she¡¯d ever loved
¡°{When I had you, Synthra, I did so as much out of love for your father as I did out of duty.}¡± Sinalthria said after several moments of thoughtful silence, and inspired a surprised blink in Synthra. She hadn¡¯t expected that tangent.
¡°{I had to breed,}¡± Sinalthria continued bluntly, ¡°{it was my imperative as a Draconic, and my desire as a woman. To feel a child within me, to continue my legacy, and to create life with a man I loved¡ªit was a simple, pure, and genuine desire¡ and I could not be prouder of the child, now woman, that I created.}¡±
Sinalthria looked back at her lovingly, and Synthra smiled at her mother.
¡°{But I¡¯ve failed you in so many ways, Synthra.}¡± Sinalthria said with a quiet and regretful sigh. ¡°{I¡¯ve sheltered you too much, I¡¯ve spoiled you too much, and I¡¯ve overlooked key lessons that were taught to me by my own far wilder upbringing. Dragons are not beholden to the mortal precepts of child rearing, and your grandmother ensured that I was always the Predator, and never the Prey when she raised me. I deprived you of that.}¡±
¡°{Mother,}¡± Synthra said carefully, ¡°{I don¡¯t think this is relev¡ª}¡±
¡°{The truth is,}¡± Sinalthria continued right over the top of her, ¡°{that you now have the chance for a wild adventure that I otherwise deprived you of, and the only thing that I can do¡ªas a mother, yes, but also as Blood of the Dragon¡ªis to throw you headfirst into the tempest. You need to learn to fly on your own strength, my love, and not shelter under my wings anymore.}¡±
If Sinalthria were leaning into the Dragon metaphors, Synthra knew she was serious. It was an affectation from their time on Altera, when Sinalthria would take her to see her grandmother, and the three would talk about magic, and nature, and the legacy of Dragons in a world deprived of them to some great extent.
The lessons in magic she¡¯d learned at her grandmother¡¯s feet, and upon her immense back, had given her the knowledge and potential to be one of the most promising Sorceresses in an Age¡ªat least according to her tutors and seniors in the Guild.
¡°{What does any of this have to do with Achilles?}¡± Synthra asked a moment later and with genuine exasperation. Her mother was rambling again.
¡°{He¡¯s going to be the tempest, Synthra,}¡± Sinalthria said insistently, ¡°{and you are my daughter. I fell in love with your father for his warmth, and kindness, and fierce courage¡ªbut I was drawn to him because he did something no one else could do: he scared me. His power, his promise, his talent¡ he was a prodigy among Haelfenn, and he made me, the Dragon¡¯s Daughter, feel vulnerable. I have always been a woman that made men quiver, and yet when we fought, he made me feel like a maiden under threat¡}¡± Sinalthria sighed wistfully. ¡°{Dragons of Eld, I loved that man.}¡±
¡°{Your baffling ideas of romance aside, mother, this tangent is even more confusing.}¡± Synthra said impatiently.
¡°{I saw your face, Synthra, when you realized what he was.}¡± Sinalthria said with keen insight. ¡°{I saw the shock, the fear, and the disturbed realization. I know you understood, more than anyone save for me or Ceruviel, what Achilles represents¡ and I know your pulse quickened, and your desire blossomed, and you felt the tingle.}¡±
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Synthra scoffed at her mother¡¯s words, but looked away all the same, and felt her cheeks heat again. How had Sinalthria known? She¡¯d hidden her reaction so well, but it was true, even if she detested to admit it. There was an incomprehensible sense of exhilaration to her fight with Achilles, and a sense of primal wonder at how powerful he might become. His level still shocked her, and the thought of how terrifying he might be at her level¡
More than that, something about his Core had called to her. It was inexplicable, and powerful, and magnetic in a way she couldn¡¯t truly describe. In the instant before he¡¯d touched her [Draconic Manaforce], when he¡¯d been suffusing his power in a way she only belatedly understood he¡¯d done, some essence or frequency of his Core had connected to her¡ªand captured her focus.
She hadn¡¯t told her mother, for reasons she couldn¡¯t quite define, but something about Achilles¡¯ inner power had bridged to her Draconic blood and bewitched her. If nothing else, that alone made her insatiably curious about his anatomy.
Synthra gripped the edge of the table, and exhaled a calming breath while several traitorous thoughts about his phrasing of ¡®pinning her down¡¯ raced through her mind, and she wanted to slap her own brain. Hormones and Draconic Nature combined to mock her, and Synthra growled in anger under her breath. She was not some easy strumpet, impressed with a few meager showings of power.
She was not!
¡°{You are my daughter, Synthra.}¡± Sinalthria said with an amusement and understanding that made Synthra¡¯s annoyance flare into full-blown sulkiness.
¡°{I birthed and carried you, as my mother birthed me, and I know you. My father was a Dragonslayer that won the love of a Dragon he was sent to kill, and instead chose to spare.}¡± Synthra nodded at that. She¡¯d heard the tale from her grandparents directly. ¡°{Your father was a Bannerlord that won the love of a headstrong Adventurer he wrestled into submission, and let go after she tried to beat him half to death.}¡± Sinalthria¡¯s tone was notably amused when she recalled how Synthra¡¯s father had won her affection.
Varian, her father, had always told it a little less savagely and more romantically¡ªbut that was her father. He¡¯d been a poetic, gentle, and loving man.
¡°{The women of our family have always wanted strength above all else, incontestable and supreme, in the men we choose¡ªand Achilles, Synthra, is the first man I have ever seen make you act like a blushing girl.}¡±
¡°{Power is not everything, mother.}¡± Synthra said as firmly as she could manage. The conversation was surreal, but she couldn¡¯t deny that it tugged at an animalistic and savage part of her that hearkened to the draconic lineage of her blood, so influential as it was despite her majority Haelfenn anatomy. ¡°{I am a Sorceress, and now a Bronze License Adventurer. I do not need any man to define my path, nor to give me purpose.}¡±
¡°{Power defines so much of how we approach the world, Synthra, as the Blood of the Dragon.}¡± Sinalthria said in a tone that was as patient as it was amused, as if Synthra¡¯s objections were more funny than compelling. She knew her mother well enough to know that Sinalthria wasn¡¯t being condescending or patronizing, but that she was simply expressing what she saw as fundamental truths¡ªregardless of whether or not Synthra wanted to hear them.
¡°{We cannot abide weakness, and yet we are weak to greater strength. Many call it a denigration of our greatness, to admit that we go weak for the man that conquers us¡ªbut I learned, long ago, that such generalization is made by the insecure and the ignorant.}¡±
Sinalthria chuckled when Synthra looked at her, and she saw a faintly wistful and sad expression on her stoic mother¡¯s beautiful, and savagely wild features.
¡°{I was exactly one of them, in fact, until your father made me see.}¡± She raised her eyebrows, and Synthra found herself unable to look away or interrupt.
Sinalthria looked back at the window, and Synthra saw her reach up to brush tears from her eyes. She said nothing, because she knew her mother would want her to say nothing, but she took note¡ªand she moved around the desk immediately to slip into her mother¡¯s arms and hug her tightly.
¡°{I miss your father, Synthra.}¡± Sinalthria admitted while patting her hair affectionately. ¡°{What greater love is there, my daughter, than to be able to wholly trust yourself to another, and know they will defend you and your offspring better than you ever could? What greater partnership is there in this world, than to give yourself to a lover, and know they will break the world to keep you and your children safe?}¡±
¡°{Mother, I¡¯m barely past my twenty-third summer. I don¡¯t need a man to define my future. What you and my father had was special, but I¡ª}¡±
¡°{Tch. You still don¡¯t understand,}¡± Sinalthria said while lightly pinching her cheeks in the way she used to when Synthra was a child. ¡°{This isn¡¯t about defining your future, it¡¯s about understanding the flow of the world. Achilles will stand at the forefront of great change, Synthra, and he will need partners¡ªpartners he can trust, and who can support his Ambition.}¡±
¡°{You know his Ambition?}¡± Synthra asked while ignoring the rest. That inspired a genuine curiosity, after all. She had been wondering about the Terran¡¯s Alphas herself.
¡°{I have a sense of it,}¡± Sinalthria confirmed. ¡°{Ceruviel let some things slip, and Dragons know power, Synthra, and we know the truth of a heart. That boy will not stop until he creates a place where those he loves can be safe, and if he has to build an Empire at the end of a blade to do it, he will, without hesitation. What you saw on that sparring field is a mere shadow of what is to come¡}¡±
Her mother brushed her hair back and looked down at her with a sly smile. ¡°{Do you truly have no interest in being part of his journey?}¡±
¡°{What did my Aunt say?}¡± Synthra asked instead of answering.
¡°{She wants him to be an Archon,}¡± Sinalthria replied meaningfully.
Synthra stared at her mother for a moment, and then bit her lip. She knew what that meant, thanks to her time learning from Ceruviel and hearing her stories. The Dusk-Lord and Guild Mistress had been Adventurers together, before Sinalthria had taken over the Eldormer Kingdom¡¯s Capital City Adventurer¡¯s Guild branch, and that friendship was part of why Sinalthria had transmigrated along with the people of what was now Dawnhaven.
¡°{An Archon¡}¡± Synthra murmured thoughtfully.
¡°{Join his party, Delve a dungeon, and see how you feel,}¡± Sinalthria said simply. ¡°{Explore the strange new feelings he¡¯s awakened in you. Let yourself be free, but remember: You are the Blood of the Dragon, Synthra. You are my daughter. Regardless of what you think of my consent for him to court you, you are your own woman now.}¡± Sinalthria kissed her forehead, and Synthra snuggled into her mother¡¯s embrace.
¡°{If he wants you, Synthra, make him earn it. Be the Dragon. But if he manages to conquer you¡}¡± Sinalthria grinned in a way that made Synthra feel embarrassed just to see it. ¡°{...make sure he knows exactly how lucky he is to have done so.}¡±
Synthra felt her cheeks enflame, and mumbled her agreement quietly.
She could, she supposed, at least do a Dungeon Delve with him.
Her mind flickered back to his regal stance, his strong jaw, and the sure way he¡¯d held his bastard sword¡ªthe strength of his fingers, and the broadness of his shoulders. Her lips parted in anger at her mind¡¯s treason, and she sighed shakily.
¡°{Fine,}¡± she murmured. ¡°{Just one Delve.}¡±
Synthra closed her eyes against the Draconic warmth of her mother¡¯s body, and steadied her breathing.
Blue eyes followed her into her dreams.
B1 | Chapter 40: Friendship
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Posting Schedule will remain the same for the foreseeable future.
Bardulf examined his new Copper License with a mix of pride and wonder, and turned over the off-bronze card with quiet reverence while staring at the text etched upon it.
¡®Bardulf, Tier One Adventurer¡¯.
¡°{You seem enthralled by that license,}¡± Achilles said from beside him, and drew Bardulf¡¯s attention once more.
The tall Terran, a revelation Bardulf was still trying to resolve in his mind, was holding a Copper License of his own in his right hand, and seemed as much amused by it as he was pleased to have received it. There was an air of idle disinterest in the way that Achilles held it, as if the License were nice but not overly important.
Given what he¡¯d done to earn it, the juxtaposition seemed strange to Bardulf.
¡°{It represents success, Achilles.}¡± He pointed out. ¡°{Or do you prefer Leonidas? You never specified.}¡±
The revelation about the man¡¯s ¡®true¡¯ name had been amusing, given it was a reference to yet another Terran Hero, though Achilles¡ªas Bardulf still thought of him¡ªseemed more exasperated than pleased with such an honorable choice of names. His distaste for his own identity seemed like an affectation of pre-Incursion Terran society that only a native could fully understand.
¡°{Ace works fine in place of both,}¡± his new friend said with a sigh. ¡°{Though Ceruviel insists on calling me Achilles, no matter what I say.}¡±
The fact that Ceruviel Latherian was the Terran¡¯s mentor was yet another shocking revelation that was somewhat more palatable than, say, the fact he was Level Eight and had managed to wipe the proverbial floor with multiple high Tier One combatants. That was a bewildering reality that Bardulf knew their entire incumbent License Class was still struggling to resolve.
¡°{I suppose she likes how it sounds?}¡± he half-asked, half-offered as opinion.
¡°{Such would make sense,}¡± Achilles said with a sigh that seemed as once-again-exasperated as it was almost fond. ¡°{The Dusk-Lord has a flair for theater, I have found.}¡±
Once again the man used the archaic, overly formal version of Haelfennyr that had first marked him as a curiosity to Bardulf¡ªand once again, he seemed entirely ignorant of how strange it sounded when coming from the lips of a non-Haelfenn. Achilles spoke like a poet-prince from the annals of Alteran history, complete with grandiose inflection and regal surety.
Where many people used subconsciously up-pitching intonation at the end of their sentences, in some unaware manner of question that demonstrated some kernel of doubt in their own perceptions; Achilles was wholly without such affectation. The man was, in Bardulf¡¯s estimation, possessed of a completely unassailable sense of self. Whatever he¡¯d been through, and it had to be something; it had made him very confident in himself, and stripped away any kernels of doubt over his own authority.
¡°{What are your plans after this?}¡± Bardulf asked while stealing a glance at the Dusk-Lord in question, and seeing her conversing quietly with several of the higher-ranking Guild Officials, one of whom appeared to be the Head Dungeon Scout.
Bardulf might have been able to eavesdrop on some of what they were saying, but knew better than to try; Ceruviel Latherian was famous, or perhaps infamous for her temper and low tolerance for fools, and Bardulf had no desire to anger the Duchess of Twilight.
¡°{I have an appointment to which Ceruviel demands we attend forthwith, and then I intend on traversing to my apartments, whereupon I shall ensconce myself within the warm embrace of my bedsheets.}¡± Achilles chuckled when he said it, and shook his head while brushing back some of his jet black hair. ¡°{Whilst weariness has not yet claimed my physical self, I am no less mentally exhausted from the tribulations of the day.}¡±
Once again the odd dialect was laid bare, and once again Bardulf automatically translated the older and more archaic diction into a more modern understanding of Haelfennyr.
When he did, a sudden impulse seized hold of him.
¡°{Do you have any room in your party, for when you go delving?}¡±
Achilles raised his eyebrows at the question, and Bardulf momentarily worried he¡¯d overstepped¡ªright up until the Terran laughed warmly, as if Bardulf had made a joke. ¡°{Surely you jest, noble Bardulf! Of course I have a station for you among my retinue. What other soul might deserve the honor more?}¡± Achilles clapped him on the shoulder firmly. ¡°{Your magnanimity was a welcome change in a land riven by madness, and I would not forsake it so readily!}¡±
Bardulf smiled when the Terran¡¯s meaning became clear, and inclined his head in thanks. ¡°{It¡¯ll be my pleasure to fight alongside you, ah, Ace. I don¡¯t suppose you¡¯ve given any thought to who else might join us?}¡±
¡°{To say it truly, that depends greatly upon the wiles of my enigmatic mentor. The Duchess Latherian is a mercurial Madame, and I would wager she has yet to reveal whatsoever manner of scheme she has concocted for my retinue, wherefore I dare not act absent proper knowledge.}¡±
Bardulf turned to the Duchess of Twilight again, and nodded thoughtfully. It made sense that Ceruviel would have plans for Achilles¡¯ party, given she was notorious for never taking students. If she had put such an investment in the Terran, it stood to reason¡ªat least in Bardulf¡¯s mind¡ªthat the silver-haired military commander would have a plan in place.
¡°{Fear not, though!}¡± Achilles proclaimed, and drew back Bardulf¡¯s attention. ¡°{I shall not forget my oath to you, kind Bardulf. Yours shall be the place at my side, and together we shall write our legend among the horrors of a Monster Lair most foul!}¡±
That was a little harder to parse, but Bardulf understood it after a moment¡¯s thought. Achilles was trying to say that they would make themselves famous in a difficult dungeon. It made sense for the man to be so ambitious, though Bardulf himself felt the need to advise some caution.
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¡°{After your declaration of Intent toward Synthra, I¡¯d caution you to watch your back on who you select to join us, Ace.}¡± Bardulf said carefully. ¡°{I understand your confidence, given everything I¡¯ve learned, but that was a bold pronouncement¡ªand Sinalthria¡¯s consent only helped paint an even bigger target on your back, given the implications.}¡±
To his surprise, Achilles simply waved a hand dismissively at the warning.
¡°{Synthra is a maiden of cunning and furore, to be sure, but I shall not struggle to conquer her. What concern is there for me, when I know already that parity shall make her mine?}¡± Achilles smiled at him reassuringly, and patted his own chest indicatively. ¡°{My acquisition of her submission, and subsequent claiming of my spoils, shall be both swift and decisive, worry not.}¡±
Bardulf almost wanted to open his mouth and ask where in the Hells the man drew the confidence to so easily declare he¡¯d make a Sorceress¡ªlet alone a Draconic!¡ªhis woman, but thought better of it. There was a suspicion in Bardulf¡¯s mind that perhaps Achilles wasn¡¯t entirely sure of what it was he was actually saying, but the risk that he¡¯d be undermining his new friend¡¯s determination was not worth the possible misunderstanding.
Ceruviel would clear things up, he was sure. It wasn¡¯t his place to do so.
¡°{I see,}¡± Bardulf said instead while idly turning the license over in his fingers, ¡°{and what about gear and equipment? Your armor and sword, as fascinating as bonded items are, seem damaged. I noticed it when we first met, too. Are you going to have them repaired?}¡±
¡°{I interrogated elder Ceruviel about just such a matter, in fact.}¡± Achilles said with a nod toward the Duchess, ¡°{and she insisted that such repairs would be forthcoming in time with my own elevation of might. Thus, I shall not worry over much about such trifles as temporal mutability.}¡±
So the Duchess had told him his level-ups would fix the armor? That seemed relatively consistent with the nature of bound items, especially when it came to Psi-attuned ones.
¡°{That¡¯s good,}¡± Bardulf said with a nod. ¡°{At least there¡¯s a plan.}¡±
There was a whole mystery of nature around such things that he personally couldn¡¯t understand, of course. His Shadow Affinity, Rogue Archetype, Folk Hero Ambition, and Assassin Aspect were synergistic with Psi; but lacked the more esoteric truths of the Affinity.
Of course, then there was also Achilles¡¯ unknown secrets to consider; a topic which had repeatedly given Bardulf pause when he¡¯d taken the time to dwell on it to any great extent.
His [Primal Intuition] had never been wrong about someone, and yet with Achilles, it was almost as if there were two elements to the man that Bardulf couldn¡¯t quite put his finger on. For the vast majority of their time together, the man was everything his sixth sense said was necessary in an ally. He was stoic, brave, courageous, good-natured, ruthless when needed, and demonstrably skilled in the combat arts.
Yet there were times, especially during his match with Synthra, when Bardulf¡¯s [Primal Intuition] changed. It was a phenomenon that he had never experienced, and that alone was enough to make him stay silent on the matter. The feeling he got from Achilles never altered fundamentally, and his instincts still identified him as a worthy ally, but there was a new element often introduced into his intuition that threw Bardulf each time it came to him.
His animalistic senses as a Lycanus often warned him of things like inclement weather, predatory enemies, and the feeling of being watched or followed. With Achilles, those same instincts had said one thing in various ways during his battles, and especially when he¡¯d fought Synthra: Run. Flee. Seek shelter. Weather the coming storm.
The feeling he received was like he were watching the beginnings of an earthquake from its epicenter, a typhoon in the eye of the storm, or a wildfire from the initial spark. It was bewildering and confusing, given both Achilles¡¯ level and his clear Psi Affinity, and yet Bardulf could describe it no other way.
He¡¯d felt some echo of that feeling the first time he¡¯d been in the presence of a True Dragon, but what he felt from Achilles was somehow more pure than that¡ªmore ancient, and yet more nascent at the same time.
It was incredibly confusing and until he knew more, Bardulf would keep it to himself.
¡°{It appears that the tempestuous Duchess is done lollygagging with her sycophants,}¡± Achilles said in a dry tone that Bardulf interpreted as humor. ¡°{Which means she and I are to depart. It was a genuine pleasure meeting you, Bardulf. I shall come to collect you, here, at the Guild House on the eve of my departure for the wilds.}¡±
¡°{I look forward to it!}¡± Bardulf said with genuine excitement. Whatever mad, crazy, and odd instincts he gleaned from Achilles; he knew that there would be glory in the towering Terran¡¯s wake. That instinct had never faded, and if anything, had only grown more prominent after the match against Synthra. ¡°{If you can¡¯t find me here, I live in the Residential Quarter, on Courage Avenue. In the way of Dawnhaven, we are number 32 in the Avenue.}¡±
¡°{I shall send a runner with haste, then, should I be unable to spy you here within the Guild House.}¡± Achilles promised with a firm nod, and a companionable smile. ¡°{Until next we meet, friend Bardulf.}¡±
¡°{Until then, Ace.}¡± Bardulf said, and then looked down at Achilles¡¯ right hand, which was extended into a fist.
¡°{One is expected to bump fists upon farewells with a friend,}¡± Achilles explained with a grin, to which Bardulf laughed and bumped his fist firmly.
¡°{What a strange custom you¡ª}¡±
¡°{Yes yes, Terrans are bewildering,}¡± the voice of the Duchess of Twilight cut across Bardulf, and caused his jaw to snap closed immediately. ¡°{Now if you two are done lollygagging¡ª}¡± Bardulf suppressed a chuckle at Ceruviel¡¯s mirroring of Achilles¡¯ words ¡°{¡ªand carrying on, Achilles and I are cutting it close for an appointment.}¡±
¡°{It was your insistence that brought us here, Ceruviel.}¡± Achilles said blithely, and with a shocking lack of fear for his evident disrespect. ¡°{Your impatience is of your own making.}¡±
¡°{Be that as it may, I have the advantage of being both a Duchess and Dusk-Lord, my dear Squire, and thereby have the freedom to blame you for my impatience regardless.}¡± Bardulf grinned to himself at the Duchess¡¯ ruthless turnabout, and saw Achilles sigh in a resigned way and shake his head.
¡°{Until next time, Ace.}¡± Bardulf said again with finality. ¡°{And you, Dusk-Lord. It was my honor to meet you in person.}¡±
Ceruviel turned to him when he spoke, and eyed him critically. Her lavender gaze glowed when she did, and Bardulf found himself having to fight to maintain eye contact with the tall Haelfenn woman. She was as intimidating as she was beautiful, and the passive aura of power emanating from her was enough that his instincts were screaming at him to show respect.
Reassuringly though, they also told him he was safe in her presence.
It was about what he¡¯d have expected from the Dusk-Lord of Dawnhaven.
¡°{Hm¡}¡± Ceruviel said with a critical once-over. ¡°{You, at least, show promise. Tell your father he¡¯s done well with you, Bardulf. It¡¯s good to see that Marthulf at least managed to raise a son with potential.}¡±
Bardulf first felt shock at the fact she knew his father¡ªwhich, given her veterancy among the guild, probably shouldn¡¯t have been so surprising¡ªbefore he felt himself swell with pride at her words, and nodded with genuine enthusiasm.
¡°{I will, your grace!}¡±
Ceruviel nodded back, and then turned and marched for the Dawnhaven exit.
Bardulf glanced at Achilles, saw the tall Terran shrug at him with a wry smile, and then turn and¡ªwith a final wave¡ªfollow after Ceruviel in the same commanding, martially disciplined stride as he¡¯d used prior. For all that the man spoke strange, lacked in levels, and was clearly somewhat bemused by everything happening around him; Bardulf knew that only a fool would think Leonidas Achilles lacked agency in that student-teacher relationship, no matter what Ceruviel¡¯s domineering attitude inferred.
His new friend didn¡¯t walk like a leashed hound, nor a whipped acolyte.
He walked like a man with purpose, intent, and a plan all his own.
In short, he walked like a King.
Bardulf Rough Concept Art
B1 | Chapter 41: Power is Power
Leonidas looked up at the towering spires of the Royal Palace of Dawnhaven with a wary eye. One of the things he¡¯d most detested in his time on Elatra had been dealing with Royalty, and even with Lyara coaching him and helping him understand the nuance and proper protocol as it pertained to the process, there was an undeniable element of discomfort that came from pretending to give a damn about whose ancestor punched another person¡¯s ancestor hard enough to win tribal control.
Ceruviel¡¯s carriage had pulled into the Sunset-side of the palace, as she named it, near the access point that the Duskguard used when liaising with the royal guard. A large archway with elaborate double doors sat before them under an elongated overhang.
The area their carriage pulled into seemed like more of a military access point than a formal one, and the circular courtyard that the outer bailey¡¯s gates granted them entry within was shadowed by the spires of the castle itself. It was difficult, for a moment, to orient himself¡ªgiven he¡¯d come from the West, and his mind wanted to define his line of travel as ¡®straight¡¯ instead of what was technically a looping journey to access a heavily guarded side gate.
From what Ceruviel had told him, the Duskguard and Royal Guard both shared control of the Duskgate and Dawngate for the palace, though only the Duskgate was one hundred percent controlled by the ¡®Reds¡¯ faction.
¡°{Is this not all a bit overly clandestine?}¡± Leonidas asked while dismounting Ceruviel¡¯s carriage at the insistence of white-and-gold attired palace staff, with subtle red adornments interwoven to what he presumed was the usual colors of their livery.
¡°{The political currents of Dawnhaven being what they are, the Prince would foil my plans with his unwanted interference, should he learn of our presence,}¡± Ceruviel explained while accepting his hand down from the carriage, much to the surprise of the Duskguard Leonidas spotted watching them.
¡°{I suppose that makes sense,}¡± Leonidas said after she had dismounted, and promptly set off for the open double doors flanked by two golden-armored members of what Leonidas assumed to be the Dawnhaven Royal Guard. Their helmets were adorned by upswept wings on either side, were conical in shape, and doubled as both protective armor and masks.
Their pauldrons were thick, and they flowed down into a full-body suit of plate that Leonidas wagered was far more durable than the aurelian affectation might have suggested. Gold was an infamously weak metal under stress, and he doubted that the elite protectors of Dawnhaven¡¯s royalty would be foolish enough to actually attire themselves in gold.
Winged affectations were present on the sides of the guards¡¯ sabatons, their gauntlets near their vambraces, and even in the shapes of their shields¡ªwhich resembled large imitations of singular angelic wings, as if the warriors had taken a pinion from an Angel and cast it in gold to use as a tower shield.
When he and Ceruviel passed them on their way into the palace, the guards subtly inclined their heads in respect to the Duchess when she passed, and then abruptly barred his path with crossed spears.
When they did, Leonidas suppressed a sigh of irritation.
¡°{Halt!}¡± one of them commanded haughtily. ¡°{The Duchess is one thing, but you, Terran, are not permitted to¡ª}¡±
¡°{He is with me,}¡± Ceruviel said impatiently, ¡°{and it is imperative he meets the Princess.}¡±
The royal guard who had spoken, standing on Leonidas¡¯ right, turned back to Ceruviel and spoke in a tone which Leonidas interpreted as skeptical. ¡°{Dusk-Lord, this Terran is nobody¡ª}¡±
¡°{This Terran, Alynius, is my Squire; the first Squire I have taken in over a century. If you are barring his entry, then you are barring me.}¡± Ceruviel said coldly. ¡°{Did you not receive my missive?}¡±
¡°{We were informed you would be traveling with a Squire,}¡± the guardsman, Alynius, said dubiously. ¡°{But we didn¡¯t think¡ª}¡±
¡°{Yes, clearly you are lacking in the ¡®thinking¡¯ department.}¡± Ceruviel interrupted icily. ¡°{I had assumed you¡¯d exercise some basic deductive reasoning and realize that I had not specified the race of my squire, for worry of the missive being read by unfriendly eyes¡ªyet instead, you choose to obstruct the only person walking in lockstep with me, out of some demented sense of racial ego.}¡±
Ceruviel¡¯s voice changed from cold to scathing while she spoke, and Leonidas suppressed a wince of empathy for the guardsman, regardless of his actions.
¡°{Dusk-Lord,}¡± Alynius said in what Leonidas thought was an attempt at deescalation, ¡°{with the threats against Her Royal Highness, we simply¡ª}¡±
¡°{Am I a threat to Her Royal Highness, Alynius?}¡± Ceruviel cut in again.
¡°{Of course not!}¡± Alynius answered in an apprehensive tone.
¡°{Do you think me senile or incapable, suddenly?}¡± she demanded.
¡°{I would never, Dusk-Lord!}¡± he said with something approaching actual fear.
¡°{Then in what idiotic or deluded reality would I bring a threat with me to see the Princess? Your loyalty to your future Queen does you credit, Alynius, but your stupidity erodes it with equal measure.}¡±
¡°{This is just standard challenge¡ª}¡±
Ceruviel seemed to have finally had enough, and Leonidas¡¯ eyes widened when Alynius abruptly slammed down to his knees with a clang that echoed across the courtyard. A vise of Psi held him in its grip, and Ceruviel¡¯s eyes blazed with void-purple energy while she spoke, and Leonidas noticed multiple eyes turning to watch with the stillness of a herd of prey animals in the presence of a predator.
¡°{I have no time for these infantile games, Alynius.}¡± Ceruviel snarled harshly. ¡°{The Blues are gaining ground, and you¡¯re standing here squabbling with me over protocol that I helped to write!}¡±
The Duchess¡¯ words were punctuated by groans of pain from the royal guardsman, who appeared to be frozen in a position on his knees from the pressure being exerted by her power.
¡°{The next time you, or any of your foolish comrades, dare to intercede against someone in my company after I have directly explained their right to be present, I will ensure that you spend the remainder of your days in the Colosseum as a stepping stone for more worthy contenders!}¡±
Leonidas glanced at the other royal guard, and noticed that they seemed to be standing fully at attention, and had decisively removed their spear from his path. Instead of leaping to the defense of their comrade, which was what Leonidas would have expected: he could almost feel a palpable sense of fear from the golden-armored guardian, and it was clearly because of the silver-haired duchess holding Alynius in her psychic grip.
¡°{Tell me you understand, Alynius.}¡± Ceruviel commanded.
¡°{I¡ I und¡ understand, Dusk-Lord!}¡±
The psionic force abated the moment that Alynius spoke, and Ceruviel sniffed at him indignantly. ¡°{I trained you better than this haughty bigotry, Alynius. You were part of my Duskguard before you wore those haughty golds, lest you forget. Do not misunderstand the immutable law of the System now that they have infected your idiot brain: power is power. If I tell you golden marmots to jump, I expect you to ask me only how high. Do I make myself clear?}¡±
¡°{Yes, Dusk-Lord.}¡± Alynius and his comrade both said.
¡°{Good.}¡± she said derisively, before looking back to Leonidas. ¡°{Come along, Achilles. We are going to be late.}¡±
Leonidas nodded at Ceruviel¡¯s words and, with a final apologetic glance for the guards, followed her through the double doors into the palace. There was no escort waiting for the Dusk-Lord as they traversed through a short, expansive corridor and toward a set of wide stairs toward its end, but Ceruviel did not seem to need one.
¡°{Is it not risky to provoke the guards like that?}¡± Leonidas asked while they moved at a steady, not-quite-power-walking pace. ¡°{What if they grow resentful?}¡±
¡°{That is a risk, but not one I am overly concerned about.}¡± Ceruviel said with a hint of approval mixed with amusement. ¡°{It speaks well for your Ambition that you recognize the issue, but you must remember that I am not the one they owe loyalty to. They will not conflate my actions with those of Her Royal Highness, but instead will simply calculate it as yet more proof of my already famous ruthlessness.}¡±
¡°{But does that not hurt your faction regardless?}¡± Leonidas asked as they ascended the stairs, and Ceruviel marched along like she were wearing full battle armor instead of a black chiton and sandals.
¡°{My reputation protects Dawnhaven by force of existence, and enforces the peace of the city through the same. Eventually there will be a need for greater power, as what I stated is very much true: Power is power across the Nexus, but there are very few who have managed to breach the fourth tier of power¡ªand that is the minimum required to even attempt to challenge myself or the Dawn-Lord.}¡±
¡°{Who is the Dawn-Lord?}¡± Leonidas asked after they ascended the stairs, and Ceruviel turned down a large hallway to their right at a cross-section and strode along it with clear purpose.
¡°{Uriel Aventus is the Dawn-Lord,}¡± Ceruviel said as they passed a pair of golden-armored royal guards who did no more than bow their heads to the Duchess when she passed. ¡°{He commands the Dawnguard, and holds sway over the Sunrise Quarter. We¡¯ve been friends for centuries. He¡¯s a good man, albeit a little too much of a stickler for tradition for my liking.}¡±
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¡°{How much power do the two of you actually wield?}¡± Leonidas asked directly while following Ceruviel through another turn, and then another after that which seemed to lead toward a distant foyer.
¡°{Now you ask?}¡± she commented with a snort. ¡°{Did Tarnys not tell you?}¡±
¡°{Not explicitly,}¡± Leonidas said with a shrug.
¡°{In the absence of a true Monarch, the Dawn-Lord and I share total command over Dawnhaven¡¯s military, and have the power to invoke martial law, curfews, and other such strictures. The City Council run the day-to-day of Dawnhaven¡¯s civil and economic affairs, under the Ministers appointed by the King prior to our departure¡ªbut the true power, for now, rests with myself and Uriel.}¡±
¡°{And when a Monarch is chosen?}¡± Leonidas queried when they emerged into the foyer, and Ceruviel turned right and beelined for a set of impressive stairs, complete with golden banisters and hung with red ribbons. Two Royal Guards stood at the base of the stairs, but had no reaction when they approached.
The stairs led to a small landing, where two Royal Guards stood on each side, which branched up to a split set of winding stairs that converged upward even higher above, and led to an artfully decorated door with six more Royal Guards standing vigil on either side.
All the Guards present were adorned with red in some capacity, which told Leonidas all he needed to know about their seemingly evident destination
¡°{When a Monarch is chosen, the Dawn-Lord and I will officially surrender our power to them, and either retain or vacate our positions at their discretion. If the Prince takes the Throne, it is almost a certainty that I will be exiled¡ªwhich makes my loyalty to Her Royal Highness rather impossible to question,}¡± Ceruviel explained while they ascended the stairs.
¡°{And if the Princess succeeds?}¡± Leonidas asked.
¡°{When she succeeds¡ª}¡± Ceruviel corrected smoothly ¡°{¡ªand claims her birthright, then all we need to do is properly quieten the traditionalists that would presume a female unfit to rule alone, and find a King that they can rally around. The latter is always tricky, as Kings hold more power than Queens by nature of Haelfenn tradition.}¡±
¡°{Why not a Prince-Consort?}¡± Leonidas asked simply when they reached the large and elaborately decorated door.
¡°{Haelfenn society does not consider the idea of a subordinate male Royal acceptable,}¡± Ceruviel answered simply. ¡°{There are very specific and exacting ideas among Haelfenn about how a monarchy should work, and if there is a male wed to a female, then either he is a worthy King, or he is not. There is no middle step or half-measure.}¡±
¡°{Does that really matter anymore? This is not Altera, Ceruviel.}¡±
¡°{It matters, Achilles, because Haelfenn women do not give their hand to anyone save the one they will wed unto death. We make no illusions of the loyalty, the devotion, and the absolute trust we give to our mates.}¡± Ceruviel said with a surprising amount of passion. ¡°{We expect our life partners to be powerful enough to defend us when we are incapable of defending ourselves, and in the structure of our society, that role is traditionally given to a male.}¡±
¡°{You hardly need anyone to protect you,}¡± Leonidas pointed out.
¡°{I chose a path dedicated to military service, Achilles,}¡± Ceruviel pointed out with a snort. ¡°{The only time I have ever been tempted to weaken myself with pregnancy is when I learned of your ambition, and that whimsy passed swiftly. If we are to have a King, I would hope he would be worthy of the Princess¡¯ devotion, and the nation¡¯s in turn.}¡±
Leonidas stared at Ceruviel for a long moment, and then shook his head.
¡°{Your reasoning seems contradictory,}¡± he muttered. ¡°{You just implied you wanted the traditionalists gone, yet you still want a traditional monarchy?}¡±
¡°{Yes.}¡± she said without missing a beat. ¡°{Stability is far more important than my personal tastes. Do I love that males are seen as superior warriors and rulers? Of course not,}¡± she stated blithely, ¡°{but neither do I have any desire to upend the social order that has allowed my people to not merely exist, but to thrive for millennia.}¡±
¡°{What about feminine empowerment? Gender equality?}¡± Leonidas asked with a rising level of bewilderment. What she was saying ran counter to everything he¡¯d been taught in school, university, and society at large. ¡°{The System makes men and women physically equal after a certain point, right? That is what Tarnys informed me, so¡ª}¡±
¡°{It isn¡¯t about inequality, Achilles,}¡± Ceruviel said with a snort of derision. ¡°{It is about duty. We raise our males to understand that service is their greatest contribution to society, be it through the military, crafting, magic, or the scholarly arts. In tandem, we raise our females the same¡ªas you can see from my choices¡ªsave that they have a fifth path: child rearing. There is honor in motherhood, and we celebrate those that choose that path for their contribution to the greater whole.}¡± Ceruviel shook her head and slammed her fist once, twice, three times against the door before she continued.
¡°{The System invariably makes all worlds it Integrates brutal, dirty, and violent struggles for existence. We females are never more vulnerable than when we are pregnant, Achilles.}¡± she continued after knocking, and fixed him with a lecturing look. ¡°{The incubation of new life has destabilizing effects on our ability to use our abilities, due to the System integrating the life forming within us. In times of such vulnerability, males are expected to be the final line of defense for both mother and unborn child. Once the child is born, the mother becomes that shield for the child, and the father the shield for both.}¡±
Leonidas sighed and reached up to run his fingers through his hair out of habit while he thought on what she said.
¡°{How does this tie into the monarchy, though?}¡±
¡°{The Princess, our future Queen, will be expected to produce heirs. Who do you think will be responsible for protecting her, and them, if the Royal Guard fails?}¡±
¡°{...her partner.}¡±
¡°{And do you think she would select a partner too weak to do so?}¡±
¡°{No.}¡±
¡°{Then the logic must follow: a male strong enough to be her partner, must also by definition be strong enough¡ªboth in force of arms and force of wit¡ªto be a good King.}¡±
Leonidas frowned at her words, but said nothing. The entire notion was so rooted in a primal, hunter-gatherer and darwinistic mindset that he found it difficult to accept given his upbringing in a modern human society. Every educated part of his mind, pre-Elatra, told him that what Ceruviel was saying was inordinately backward¡ªand yet, truthfully, he could understand the essence of her assertions.
When it came down to it, System Worlds were a cycle of the strong devouring the weak, unless something stronger defended the weak from the predator in question. It was a primitive, brutal, and simplistic cycle of violent supremacy, and realistically, he couldn¡¯t help but understand her point.
After all, it all came back to what she¡¯d said prior: power is power, and there were only the strong and the weak in the end.
He doubted that modern values would be much of a shield against murder.
When the door opened a moment later, Leonidas was still struggling with what Ceruviel had said, and was distracted by her words when the person that opened it greeted them.
¡°{Welcome, Dusk-Lord Latherian. You are expected.}¡± A pause followed, and Leonidas refocused on the moment when the male voice cut off and then resumed. ¡°{May I ask after the name and identity of your companion?}¡±
The Haelfenn asking was tall and slender, with hair a more grey shade of silver than Ceruviel¡¯s, and deep stormy grey eyes that seemed to hold a true weight of centuries within them. He had wisdom, Leonidas knew immediately, and experience as well. The Haelfenn had the bearing of a former soldier, too, no matter what his semi-traditional monochrome Butler¡¯s attire might have suggested.
¡°{Hello, Mithrander.}¡± Ceruviel said in what Leonidas interpreted as a fond tone. When she continued, it was with the same brevity that he expected from her. ¡°{This would be Achilles, my Squire.}¡±
¡°{Oh?}¡± Mithrander asked with what Leonidas saw was simple interest, and no judgment whatsoever. That won the old elf points immediately. ¡°{I had heard rumors, of course, but¡}¡±
¡°{Yes, yes, it¡¯s all true. The shrew took a Squire.}¡± Ceruviel said brusquely. ¡°{Now, are we to enter, or stand here like a pair of baubles while the candle burns to the wick?}¡±
Mithrander smiled at Ceruviel despite her tone, and Leonidas had a feeling that the older man was more than used to the Duchess¡¯ particular lack of adherence to ¡®proper¡¯ protocol.
¡°{Please come in,}¡± he said while stepping back. ¡°{Her Royal Highness is expecting you.}¡±
Ceruviel stepped past the older Haelfenn without a second glance at his words, but Leonidas didn¡¯t. He recognized that Mithrander, for all Ceruviel¡¯s presumption of her own immunity to his influence, was someone to stay in the good graces of¡ªand so he practiced what Lyara had taught him what felt like a lifetime ago, and bowed respectfully to the older man.
¡°{Thank you for your hospitality, Elder Mithrander.}¡± he said with careful respect.
Mithrander raised his eyebrows at Leonidas¡¯ actions and words, and he saw a flicker of what he thought might have been shock flit across the old elf¡¯s features, before it was gone. When he spoke a moment later, his smooth voice was unphased.
¡°{You honor me, master Achilles. Please enter.}¡±
Leonidas did so then, and walked through what he recognized as a chokepoint entrance passage into a much larger, and expansive parlor within. The space was bereft of overtly ostentatious adornment, and house instead a sitting area, staffed bar, a dining area, and what appeared to be access to a private balcony.
Ceruviel had stepped toward the sitting area, and when Leonidas stepped fully into the parlor, his eyes fell on the Haelfenn woman that stood to greet them, and the one whom she¡¯d very likely brought him to meet.
When he saw her, his heart entered his throat.
Her eyes were a pale sky blue, and her features were sharp and angular¡ªwith a defined feminine jaw, button nose, and a pair of cupid¡¯s bow lips that were a naturally pale pink. Her cheekbones were high-set and defined, and she held the look of a woman born into traditionally-depicted nobility. If Arwen had been real, Leonidas realized; then this woman would have been a dead ringer for her blonde doppelganger.
The woman¡¯s figure, meanwhile, was that of a dancer or gymnast; with visibly toned legs and arms used to exertion and physicality.
Her hair was long enough that it could comfortably frame her lower abdomen, and varied from a light platinum near the crown of her head to a more rich golden near the bottom third of each strand. She wore a silver circlet on her head, bereft of precious jewels, and was dressed in an elegant white chiton worked with gold and red adornments that hugged her athletic frame in a tastefully flattering manner.
A slender belt buckled by a gilded gryphon cinched the chiton under her bust.
She was tall, standing at an easy six feet or perhaps slightly more, and there was a warrior¡¯s definition to the fair skin of her exposed arms, and she wore decorative golden adornments around each bicep that only further enhanced the image of a princess out of a fantasy novel.
Her feet were wrapped in golden sandals not unlike Ceruviel¡¯s own, and they wound up toward her upper calves, just above the hem of her chiton.
When she turned to him, he felt his heartbeat double in pace, and his mouth go dry. The problem, of course, was not that she was beautiful¡ªthat was something he¡¯d already experienced once before with Synthra, who was herself a singularly beautiful woman, and notably more endowed than the Princess.
No, that wasn¡¯t what had him stunned.
It was the fact that she looked enough like Lyara to be have been her sister.
¡°You must be Achilles,¡± the Princess said in perfect English, and smiled at him in a stately greeting. ¡°It¡¯s a pleasure to meet you. I am Princess Aylar Eldormer.¡±
Leonidas¡¯ ears were ringing after she spoke, and he could feel a shiver of shock lancing through his psyche while he processed her words, and the revelation of what she said upended any fragile sense of suspension of disbelief he¡¯d managed to maintain.
Aylar Eldormer.
Lyara Melredor.
Leonidas¡¯ feet moved automatically, and he bowed as he¡¯d been taught by Lyara herself all those years ago when first entering the Royal Court of Melredor on Elatra. When he did, one thought was racing through his mind unceasingly:
What the hell is going on?
B1 | Chapter 42: A Clever Strategy
Leonidas felt his pulse quicken when he rose from his bow and took in Aylar¡¯s appearance again. Were it not for the phonetic specificity between ¡®I¡¯ and ¡®Y¡¯ in Haelfennyr, he might have never noticed the anagram. The ¡®aye¡¯ sound of the ¡®Y¡¯ as opposed to the ¡®ee¡¯ sound of the ¡®I¡¯ created a clear similarity between ¡®Lyara¡¯ and ¡®Aylar¡¯ that was impossible to miss.
Once again, he wondered what in the hell was going on.
He¡¯d already mentioned once that there were simply too many coincidences to be normal, but that had been more of a mild concern over what seemed like engineered happenstance¡ªnow he was wondering if he was being subjected to some sort of elaborate mind-game.
Five years of blood, stress, trauma, and loss might have all boiled down to an extended tutorial that wasn¡¯t even real, and that was more than he was really prepared to think about. The idea that the friends he¡¯d made, the pain he¡¯d endured, the sacrifices he¡¯d given, and the agony he¡¯d gone through all amounted to nothing was too much for him to conceive of at that moment.
The only thing that stopped him falling down the rabbit hole of Simulation theory over the whole thing was the fact that he didn¡¯t want to fall down that rabbit hole.
It was a thin shield against the existential crisis that threatened, but it was one he¡¯d cling to.
¡°It is my honor to meet you as well, your royal highness,¡± he said in as calm a voice as he could manage while trying to shove down the shock and memories that tried to bubble up. ¡°Forgive me for staring when I first saw you, Princess. You are not what I imagined.¡±
¡°Oh?¡± Aylar asked with a raised eyebrow. ¡°And what did you imagine?¡±
¡°Not a warrior,¡± Leonidas answered honestly. ¡°Ceruviel was telling me about the expectations of a Queen in Haelfenn society, and her description of noble daughters prior to our meeting formed a much more delicate image in my mind. You, however, are anything but delicate.¡±
¡°Is that so?¡± Aylar asked while bracing her hands on her hips. ¡°Am I not feminine enough to warrant the title of Princess, then?¡± she asked with an unreadable expression, and a steady gaze that never wavered.
¡°On the contrary, Princess, I think only an idiot would look at you and not think you¡¯re beautiful.¡± Leonidas stated truthfully. ¡°I only meant that you look like you¡¯d be as at home in a ballroom as you would on a battlefield, and it¡¯s definitely a nice departure from what I first envisioned.¡±
Aylar smirked at him slyly when he finished speaking.
¡°I did not ask if you thought I was beautiful, Achilles,¡± she pointed out. ¡°But thank you for the compliment, and more importantly; for noticing my efforts to advance my martial capabilities. Most people do not bother to see more than a pretty woman with a crown.¡±
¡°Most people are gawking idiots,¡± Achilles said off the cuff, and with a remembered familiarity that he couldn¡¯t help but feel. For all that had happened, it had been less than twenty-four hours since he¡¯d spoken to Lyara¡ªand Aylar was so similar to the woman he¡¯d known that he found his guard slipping reflexively.
Aylar¡¯s eyebrows shot up at his words, and then she laughed. It sounded different to Lyara¡¯s, he realized. Aylar¡¯s was more musical, and held a more bell-like chime than the princess he¡¯d actually known.
The difference, minor as it was, felt like a splash of cold water against the budding warmth of imagined familiarity.
¡°You really are just like your Mentor!¡± Aylar stated with an amused tone. ¡°You speak to me so easily, as if I¡¯m just another person in the street.¡±
¡°I am simply uncouth and presumptuous at times, I fear,¡± Achilles said with a forced smile, and a return to what he remembered was appropriate decorum. ¡°Please forgive my impertinence in your presence. I forgot myself.¡±
The Princess¡¯ smile waned when he spoke, and he saw the mirth on her features fade after his words sunk in. She seemed taken aback for a moment, and then seemed to recover quickly.
¡°I see.¡± Aylar said more formally after a few moments¡¯ awkward silence. ¡°You are forgiven, of course. Please think nothing of it.¡±
The Princess turned away after she said it, and looked instead to Ceruviel, to whom she spoke in Haelfennyr.
¡°{My apologies for ignoring you, Dusk-Lord. Please, be seated,}¡± Aylar said while gesturing to the sitting area. A mix of remembered knowledge and social graces held him in polite abeyance until the Princess herself took her seat, and then he let Ceruviel sit in kind opposite her before moving to stand behind the Dusk-Lord at a parade rest.
¡°{Is my seating not to your liking, Achilles?}¡± Aylar asked with a hint of terseness upon seeing him standing.
¡°{I dare not presume to your hospitality, Princess,}¡± he said with the same forced smile, and an attempt to once again dismiss the soured feeling of remembering he¡¯d never see his companions again. ¡°{I am a Squire and Retainer. I would not take for granted such familiarity as to claim a seat in your presence.}¡±
¡°{I see,}¡± Aylar said with a terse nod. ¡°{Your diligence does you credit, of course.}¡±
¡°{Your Highness is too kind,}¡± Leonidas said with rote politeness, and a bow of the head.
When he finished, Ceruviel¡¯s voice pierced his mind.
+{I do not know why your mind is in such turmoil, Achilles, but you must focus. You were charming her right up until the moment you shut down. We will speak of it later, but for the sake of your own prospects, try to stay charming! You took a rather outstanding start and managed to thoroughly ruin it.}+
The Duchess showed no outward sign of her mental reprimand, and Leonidas focused on showing none himself while trying to suppress his annoyance at what she¡¯d said. It was all well and good for Ceruviel to tell him to ¡®be charming¡¯, but she wasn¡¯t dealing with a living reminder of a friend¡ªand someone he¡¯d wanted more with, if he was honest with himself¡ªhe¡¯d very likely lost forever.
The differences between Altera and Elatra were subtle, but blatant, and in such a way that Leonidas was almost positive that even if Lyara, Bjorn, and Caricus had been real; they were more than likely long, long dead¡ªthough again, that was only if they¡¯d actually even been real.
The thought was not comforting.
¡°{I take it your visit here was for more than showing off your Squire, Duchess Latherian.}¡± Aylar said with a very specific lack of another glance at Leonidas, and instead a steady focus on the Dusk-Lord. ¡°{I would like to know what brought you to me with such haste.}¡±
¡°{He is a key part of my visit, but is not the purpose of it,}¡± Ceruviel agreed with a nod. ¡°{Originally I came to inform you that we had a new weapon to use to buy time with your brother, but a detour to the Adventurers¡¯ Guild waylaid that intention.}¡±
Leonidas, still struggling with his inner turmoil, looked between Ceruviel and Aylar as the former spoke, and watched the Princess¡¯ expression light up at the Dusk-Lord¡¯s mention of the Guild.
¡°{Does that mean they found it?}¡± the Princess asked immediately.
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¡°{Yes, Princess.}¡± Ceruviel replied with a smiling affirmation. ¡°{Only a few miles into the forest, and heavily obscured. I took great pains to ensure the information was sealed within reason, but it will not remain so forever.}¡±
That explained why she was speaking with the Guild¡¯s Scouting Officers, at least, and likely why she¡¯d wanted a closed-door meeting with Sinalthria as well. Something to do with the Rite of Ascension, no doubt, and the Guild¡¯s part in scouting for the required Dungeon.
¡°{Then we must make haste and depart immediately!}¡± Aylar said excitedly. ¡°{We cannot waste time waiting for¡ª}¡±
¡°{That won¡¯t be possible,}¡± Ceruviel cut in with an apologetic look. ¡°{Not without adequate preparation, at any rate. The Rite of Ascension is not a trifle, your highness, and for all that you are a talented Swordmaiden¡ªone your mother would be proud of, I am sure¡ªin your own right, you are woefully lacking in power when compared to your brother.}¡±
¡°{Braedon is only level thirty-three!}¡± Aylar objected with a frustration that told Leonidas all he needed to know about that line of discussion. Clearly, the Princess had been struggling with the comparisons between her and her more heavily trained brother for some time.
¡°{Which is still makes him eighteen levels and two tiers your superior, Princess.}¡± Ceruviel said firmly, ¡°{and fully outside your ability to even attempt to match. You will need a full Party to brave the Rite of Ascension, and each of them will need to be both trustworthy and fiercely capable. As you know, the System will not permit more than five levels of discrepancy between Party members when Delving.}¡±
¡°{Which means my Royal Guards are out of the question,}¡± Aylar said with a quiet sigh, ¡°{and I would be a fool to attempt the Delve alone and ignore your advice. Very well, I take it you have something in mind?}¡±
¡°{I do,}¡± Ceruviel confirmed with a smile. ¡°{There are four ideal candidates to help you form your party: Synthra, the daughter of Guild Mistress Sinalthria, is the first.}¡±
¡°{I¡¯ve heard plenty about her talent,}¡± Aylar confirmed. ¡°{She¡¯ll be an excellent addition. Who else?}¡±
¡°{Bardulf, a Shadowblade from the Guild that finished in the top four of the Elite Slayer License Trial, and lost out only to Synthra in the semi-finals.}¡±
¡°{I¡¯ve not heard of him, but I trust your judgment in this case.}¡± Aylar said with an agreeing nod. ¡°{The Elite Slayer intake is always stiff competition, and if it took Sinalthria¡¯s daughter to defeat him, he is surely competent.}¡±
¡°{His father is a friend, so I can vouch for his character, too.}¡± Ceruviel said with an approving nod, and leaned back on the lounge. ¡°{For your Mender, I believe that a young man named Parnym will be acceptable. He is at the cusp of second tier, and is among the most promising of my Duskguard recruits.}¡±
¡°{A member of the Duskguard would certainly give me some measure of confidence,}¡± Aylar agreed with a decisive nod. ¡°{And what of the last member?}¡±
¡°{A warrior named Luciaro,}¡± Ceruviel informed her with a tone that held an edge of hesitation to it, which Leonidas immediately thought was suspicious, ¡°{who also finished in the Elite Slayer Final Four, and is a Copper License like Bardulf.}¡±
¡°{Oh?}¡± Aylar asked with a look of pleased surprise. ¡°{That makes three of four from the Elite intake. Was Luciaro the runner-up in the final, then?}¡±
¡°{No, he was defeated in the semi-finals,}¡± Ceruviel said casually.
Too casually for Leonidas¡¯ liking, in fact, but he decided not to interrupt whatever his mentor was scheming. He could almost tell she was about to drag him into something, but wisely held his tongue.
¡°{Is the other finalist not available, then?}¡± Aylar asked with a frown of consternation, and an unconscious lean forward that strained her chiton in a slightly distracting way. ¡°{I would think they would be a better option, would they not?}¡±
¡°{Unfortunately,}¡± Ceruviel began with a hesitancy that Leonidas found so convincing, he¡¯d have believed it if he didn¡¯t know that Ceruviel was a master schemer, ¡°{a Delve requires all participating members to be at least level eleven. The one who defeated Luciaro does not qualify. Not yet, at least.}¡±
¡°{What?}¡± Aylar asked with a look of baffled disbelief. ¡°{You¡¯re telling me that Luciaro meets the requirements, but the one that defeated him doesn¡¯t? A first tier strong enough to make it to the Final Four was defeated by an Untempered?}¡±
¡°{Indeed so, Princess. It is rather unfortunate, given the circumstances, but¡ª}¡±
¡°{Unfortunate?}¡± Aylar asked with clear frustration. ¡°{Duchess, you¡¯re telling me that there¡¯s a Slayer available to me that defeated someone before even reaching first tier, and did so at the highest levels of competition for their bracket! If I am going in for my Rite of Ascension, I will need every modicum of advantage! I need that finalist!}¡±
¡°{That would mean delaying the Delve until the individual in question could properly meet the requirements, however.}¡± Ceruviel stated with an arched eyebrow. ¡°{I did not think your royal highness wished to delay more than was absolutely necessary?}¡±
¡°{I did not, but I will be damned if I will let such an opportunity¡.}¡± the Princess trailed off, and then abruptly swore under her breath. ¡°{Oh you cunning old grouch, you¡¯ve neatly manipulated me right where you wanted me, haven¡¯t you?}¡±
There was no ire in Aylar¡¯s voice when she spoke, and if anything, Leonidas detected a mix of respect and fondness in the accusation she leveled against Ceruviel.
¡°{Here I was ready to rush off at the earliest moment and face the Rite of Ascension, and you maneuvered me so easily into changing my mind that I would have called someone who¡¯d fallen for the same blatant manipulation an utter fool.}¡±
¡°{The passions of the young are like healthy embers among dry tinder, Princess Aylar,}¡± Ceruviel said with an audible smile. ¡°{Let this be another lesson to ensure that others cannot do the same in future. I did manipulate you, yes, but I did so for your own good. Your harebrained scheme to run off as soon as possible would have only gotten you killed.}¡±
¡°{Heavens, I am glad you¡¯re on my side,}¡± the Princess said wryly, ¡°{but you do make it hard to not want to throttle you, your grace.}¡±
¡°{Your father often said the same thing,}¡± Ceruviel responded blithely. ¡°{Your mother, however, said it was one of my best traits.}¡±
¡°{I¡¯m sure she did,}¡± Aylar responded in what Leonidas identified as resigned acceptance of her fate. He could relate to the feeling well when it came to Ceruviel, even after only a day in Dawnhaven. ¡°{Very well, Dusk-Lord, I shall heed your sage counsel. When do you think I should depart?}¡±
¡°{Two weeks,}¡± the Duchess said without missing a beat, and with shameless indication of her pre-planned trap. ¡°{In the interim, I will ensure that Prince Braedon follows a false trail to another Dungeon further afield, which will not net him what he needs, but which he will not realize until you are well and truly Delving.}¡±
Ceruviel waved a hand airily, and continued with a more terse and no-nonsense tone that Leonidas felt was more accurately her.
¡°{You will only have one attempt, however, so you must ensure you succeed. Once you enter the Delve, I cannot maintain its secrecy. It must be registered with the Guild the day you enter, as a matter of protocol, and the System-enforced entry cooldown will ruin you if you fail your first attempt.}¡±
¡°{And what of our fifth member?}¡± Aylar asked after nodding in acceptance.
¡°{I will ensure they are ready to join you at the time. To that end, I intend on sending them out to hunt the local beasts with you a week prior to the Delve. It will give your entire Party time to build synergy, as well.}¡±
¡°{And what of this immediate week beforehand?}¡±
¡°{I have other training in mind for that.}¡±
Aylar¡¯s eyes rose after Ceruviel spoke, and settled on Leonidas steadily.
¡°{And what are your thoughts on all this, Achilles?}¡± the princess asked him directly, and with a glint of new curiosity overcoming the earlier disgruntlement in her brilliant blue eyes. ¡°{I would wager, as I am not a moron, that you are this mysterious finalist, given the Duchess¡¯ flair for the dramatic and terrifying standards.}¡±
Leonidas¡¯ lips twitched into a genuine smile at her question, despite the complicated feelings the Haelfenn blonde inspired, and he bowed his head. ¡°{Your insight is astute, your royal highness. I am, in fact, the finalist in question.}¡±
¡°{And you truly did defeat Luciaro without even reaching your first tier?}¡±
¡°{I did,}¡± Leonidas confirmed. ¡°{Though that is no insult to Luciaro, Princess. He fought well.}¡±
¡°{You just fought better?}¡± Aylar surmised with an arched eyebrow, and a glimmer of returning amusement.
¡°{Of course he did,}¡± Ceruviel cut in with a snort. ¡°{He¡¯s my Apprentice.}¡±
¡°{And you can truly raise his level fast enough to join me in a mere two weeks?}¡± Aylar asked with a glance back to Ceruviel.
¡°{Oh, you need not worry there, Princess,}¡± Ceruviel said in a tone that sent a chill down Leonidas¡¯ spine. ¡°{By the time I¡¯m done with Achilles, he¡¯ll be more than just able to join you.}¡±
¡°{Oh my,}¡± the Princess said with a smile that Leonidas thought might have even been a little vindictive, ¡°{that sounds like it will be quite interesting to observe.}¡±
¡°{Oh, I think it will.}¡± Ceruviel said glibly. ¡°{After all, his time in the Arena was cut short.}¡±
Leonidas felt his stomach drop at Ceruviel¡¯s words when she continued.
¡°{And nothing is a greater boon to one¡¯s early levels than life or death adversity.}¡±
B1 | Chapter 43: The Plan
Leonidas settled into Ceruviel¡¯s carriage in silence after helping the Duchess to board, and leaned his head back against the soft padding behind him while closing his eyes. The remainder of their meeting with the Princess had dealt with the political tension in the city, the patrol patterns of the Duskguard, and more immediate martial and civil concerns that he¡¯d largely tuned out from.
Despite Ceruviel¡¯s desires, he hadn¡¯t managed to engage the Princess again for the duration of the meeting, and even if he had been able to, he doubted he¡¯d have been very effective at ¡®charming¡¯ her the way his mentor desired.
A depressed fugue had slowly settled over Leonidas while the audience had progressed, and by the time they¡¯d left; it had been all he could do to muster up a halfway genuine smile for the beautiful royal.
Aylar was a beautiful woman, by any measurement or standard, and was of her own value more than charming and interesting enough to catch his attention¡ªand yet he¡¯d wanted nothing more than to get away from her. The memories she stirred in him were as raw as they were painful, and only served to remind him that his entire adventure in Dawnhaven had lasted less than one day.
The timescale between being translated back to Earth and entering the palace was short enough that he¡¯d have never believed it possible if he hadn¡¯t lived it. To go from being essentially a vagabond in destroyed Miami to the Squire of an elf attempting to resurrect an ancient order, while also fighting in an arena, joining the Adventurers¡¯ Guild, and having an audience with a Royal Princess?
It beggared belief, and he was living it.
Their departure from the palace was as clandestine as their arrival, and it wasn¡¯t until they were well on their way that Ceruviel spoke.
¡°You¡¯re brooding with such intensity that I can¡¯t hear myself think, Achilles,¡± Ceruviel said from opposite him, and pulled him out of his own mind. ¡°You¡¯ve been brooding since we met the Princess, and it got so bad that even she noticed. In the short few hours I¡¯ve known you, you¡¯ve not struck me as the type to be so morose for no reason¡ªso I will ask: what is it that haunts you?¡±
¡°I¡¯m not ready to talk about that with you yet,¡± Leonidas said while opening his eyes, and fixing them onto Ceruviel¡¯s own. ¡°But I will say that Aylar reminds me of someone I lost recently, to an extent which is shocking.¡±
Ceruviel¡¯s expression tightened when he began, but softened somewhat when he finished, and she let out a quiet sigh.
¡°I may not like that your obfuscation is interfering with my plans, but I appreciate your candor about that much,¡± the Duchess said with an acknowledging nod. ¡°I promised not to push you, and I meant it; but I can¡¯t have you shutting down on me randomly, Achilles. Your charm offensive has to be strong enough to make up for your deficit in strength.¡±
¡°Isn¡¯t the point of this mysterious training to make that a moot point?¡± Leonidas asked wearily and shook his head. ¡°I don¡¯t even know how to charm people, Ceruviel. You keep forgetting that I may be gifted with passably attractive looks, but I am no casanova.¡±
¡°Passably attractive looks, he says,¡± Ceruviel snorted. ¡°You are remarkably ignorant of your own good looks, Leonidas Achilles. Perhaps you should take the time to look at yourself in a mirror and understand why I find the idea of you being ¡®passably attractive¡¯ egregiously dishonest.¡±
Leonidas frowned at her, but the Duchess wasn¡¯t done.
¡°Additionally, and while ignoring the fact that ¡®casanova¡¯ means nothing to me,¡± Ceruviel said with a dismissive wave of her hand, ¡°as well as your annoyingly defeatist attitude, the simple fact is that you are charming by being yourself. For all your professed lack of confidence, Achilles, you exude the airs of a warrior-prince with baffling ease.¡±
¡°I was taught to portray confidence,¡± he said evasively, and while ignoring the fact that he was technically taught as much to rule, to some degree, as he was to lead warriors.
The two were more interlinked than he¡¯d liked to admit, during his tenure on Elatra. Being the ¡®Hero¡¯ was as good as being an Emperor in many ways. He¡¯d had Monarchs that were technically subordinated to him, after all.
¡°And I will sharpen those lessons to help you win the hearts and minds of nobles and commoners alike, as is expected for your Ambition and your Squireship.¡± Ceruviel leaned forward when she spoke, and jabbed her right forefinger at him indicatively. ¡°We have one week to properly prepare you to dazzle Princess Aylar, and I intend on ensuring you start to do so even before seeing her again.¡±
¡°Why are you so insistent on this?¡± Leonidas asked with a flare of irritation and an aggrieved grunt. ¡°I understand wanting her to ascend, Ceruviel, and I¡¯m happy to help¡ªbut I can¡¯t see what charming the bloody future Queen of Dawnhaven has to do with my path as an Archon. Once I learn what I need to, I have to leave anyway.¡±
¡°Oh? Is that so?¡± the Duchess asked with raised brows.
¡°Of course,¡± Leonidas stated with a frown. ¡°I have a Sovereign Ambition, and I want to create a place for my mad family to be able to live together in peace. More than that, I have an obligation to humanity, to fix¡ª¡± he cut off from saying ¡®fix what I broke¡¯ and instead continued on a different track ¡°¡ªsome small piece of the world, enough for the innocent to find a haven of safety away from all the insanity.¡±
¡°With what Army?¡± Ceruviel asked coolly.
¡°I don¡¯t need an army,¡± Leonidas replied stubbornly.
¡°Oh?¡± she asked skeptically, ¡°So you will fight every monster, predator, beast, or mad Cultivator that seeks to harm your people, all by yourself?¡±
Leonidas opened his mouth, paused, and then closed it with a grunt.
¡°I¡¯ll teach them to defend themselves,¡± he said after a moment.
¡°That doesn¡¯t sound like a haven of safety, to me.¡±
¡°They¡¯re safe if they can defend themselves!¡± Leonidas insisted.
¡°So your citizens will also be your military?¡± Ceruviel asked critically before continuing, ¡°Then what of your food needs? Weapons? Armor? Item maintenance? Settlement development? Potions? Reagents? Economy?¡±
Leonidas¡¯ shoulders hunched a little in a defensive manner with every added element of a functional society.
You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.
¡°I¡ I mean¡¡±
¡°Gods of Altera,¡± Ceruviel said with a shake of her head and a pronounced sigh, ¡°I forget that you are so inexperienced, sometimes. For all your promise, for all the blood I can see lurking behind the grim blue of your eyes, you are markedly naive in so many ways as well. Sometimes I feel as though I¡¯m speaking to a hardened General, and other times you remind me that you truly are just a very talented, very gifted, but ultimately very inexperienced young man.¡±
Leonidas said nothing, and instead folded his arms and looked away.
¡°The next two weeks will be simple,¡± Ceruviel said in a firmer voice and in a tone that brooked no interruption. ¡°We will work on your physical attributes from six to twelve, work on your mental attributes from twelve to three, and we will work on your Affinity and Core from three to six. When I depart for my duties at five, you will begin to study what I know of the System, Alteran History, Cultivation, and Statecraft from six to nine.¡±
Leonidas wanted to object, but Ceruviel narrowed her eyes when he opened his mouth, and he shut it with a ¡®click¡¯.
¡°From nine to eleven you will train with sparring partners of my selection. At eleven, you will bathe, have dinner, and then calm your body and mind. From midnight to five in the morning you will meditate, then have breakfast, and see to your own pursuits until I return at half past six in the morning.¡±
¡°What about sleep?¡± Leonidas asked impulsively, and while forgetting¡ªat least for the moment¡ªhis prior objections.
¡°You will not need it,¡± Ceruviel declared with complete confidence. ¡°I will teach you to circulate your Psi and Mana in such a way as to replace your need for active sleep, rest your body, and reinvigorate your mind. It¡¯s a secret discipline only Psi users may make use of, and with your talent, will serve to greatly enhance your Cultivation as well.¡±
Leonidas reached up to rub his palms over his forehead, and sighed heavily. He had agreed to be mentored by Ceruviel largely because he knew the woman would help him gain power, and he¡¯d wondered at exactly how she intended to do so. He¡¯d assumed she¡¯d come up with some manner of training regime, but he¡¯d expected it to be over the course of several months.
This reminded him even more of the mad dash toward readiness Miranda had put him through, and he couldn¡¯t help but feel a stirring of amused familiarity at the way in which the Duchess so ruthlessly approached developing him. Not only was she clearly interested in honing his literal Attributes, but she seemed intent on teaching him to be worthy of his Sovereign Ambition as well¡ªand
¡°And the arena?¡± he asked with mild resignation.
¡°A proving ground. You will need proper stimulation to test what I teach you, and more than that, you will need to truly stoke the fire of your legend prior to the Princess completing her Rite of Ascension. My plans for you require it.¡±
¡°You keep mentioning plans, Ceruviel,¡± Leonidas grumbled. ¡°What plans, exactly? Making me an Archon?¡±
¡°Before I answer, let me ask you something,¡± Ceruviel said instead. ¡°I sensed sincerity in what you said earlier. You truly want to create a place safe for humanity, do you not?¡±
¡°Of course I do,¡± Leonidas said with a nod.
¡°I can sense you bear some perplexing feeling of responsibility for what happened to your world, despite the fact I am quite certain you have zero control over the System, just like the rest of us¡ªbut your bewildering guilt aside, I would ask something more pertinent: This haven of yours, is it just for humanity?¡± Ceruviel asked with an unblinking focus. ¡°If so, what of the rest of us? Would you leave us all to die while you safeguarded your own species?¡±
Leonidas blinked at her words, and felt his back come back to rest firmly against the seat again. Ceruviel¡¯s question, while seemingly simple, had scored a fine blow against his resolve. He hadn¡¯t really considered it, if he were honest with himself. He knew that he definitely felt responsible for the Incursion because, no matter what common sense or logical timelines told him, something about Azrageth¡¯s dying words had inexorably scarred his psyche.
For all that it was stupid, foolish, self-destructive, and perhaps even a left-over guilt from his developed ¡®Hero¡¯ complex; he truly did believe that he was responsible for unleashing the System on Earth, and as a result, for killing the billions that had died in the wake of its encroachment. Earth, unlike many worlds on the Nexus from what little he¡¯d gleaned, was far more peaceful and actively tamed than others.
As a result, the sheer brutality of an Incursion¡ªespecially with the emergence of monsters¡ªhad resulted in a calamitous loss of life across the planet, among billions of people who¡¯ve never had to worry about anything approaching actual combat in their lives. When factoring in that conventional human technology had been all but worthless as a result of the Incursion, the death toll was likely over sixty percent of all human life on Earth.
If Leonidas was even partially responsible for that, directly or indirectly, then he did not simply have blood on his hands: he was swimming in an ocean of it. That was how he saw it, and it was against his nature to find excuses for doffing responsibility. If he had spared Azrageth, the Incursion may never have happened¡ªand he¡¯d had the chance to do so. He knew that. Whether or not it was true, he¡¯d had the chance to check¡ and he¡¯d chosen to kill the Demon Lord instead.
Regardless of any consideration, any worry, any absolving factors; he had chosen to kill Azrageth.
All the logical arguments in the world could not change that fact.
So what, then, did that mean for the races that had come to Earth? They were invaders in every definition of the world: colonizers who had chosen to transmigrate with the clear and active intent of creating new homes, new settlements, and even new nations upon his homeworld. He could see why his Grandfather hated them¡ªand he could see why other humans would, too.
And yet¡ if he was by his own definition responsible for bringing the System to Earth, and the deaths that caused, then was he not also responsible for the peoples that had come with that Incursion? Certainly there would be some, or even many, that actively persecuted and warred with humanity¡ªbut what of the Haelfenn? They had chosen to integrate the humans of the Twin Lakes, even going so far as to give them pathways to citizenship and legitimacy.
He had seen humans partaking in the Slayer Trials, only a few years after their worlds had been irrevocably changed. Were the Haelfenn, then, solely conquerors and colonizers? Were they the enemy?
Were they unworthy of his protection? Were they invalid for participation in his envisioned sanctuary?
The faces of his Elatran companions flashed through his mind, and in that moment, he knew his answer¡ªand all dissenting opinions be damned.
¡°No,¡± Leonidas said out loud. ¡°No, I couldn¡¯t do that. I couldn¡¯t turn away people that did nothing to harm me, and doom them to death. That just isn¡¯t in my nature, no matter what others might think. If I have the power to keep people safe¡ªno matter who or what they are¡ªthen I have a responsibility to do so. If innocents die when I could have saved them, then it¡¯s as if I killed them myself. Many won¡¯t agree with that, but I do believe it.¡±
Ceruviel¡¯s gaze never left him, and after a moment, she smiled.
¡°And that, Leonidas Paendrag, is why I did not kill you when I learned your lineage,¡± Ceruviel said without blinking. ¡°That is why I chose to have faith in you: that spark, that naive, stupid, boyish, wonderful spark of virtue that the world has tried¡ªand failed¡ªto smother within you. I sensed it the day we met, and I sensed it again now. You truly wish to know my plans for you, Achilles?¡±
Leonidas nodded, and felt his heart thump at the intensity of her gaze. There was something zealous, fierce, and even a little eccentric within the blazing lavender eyes of the centuries-old warrior he¡¯d chosen as his mentor.
¡°This world is my home now, Achilles, and the home of all Haelfenn under my care,¡± Ceruviel said with a fierce passion. ¡°We are aliens on an alien world, and we need a bridge to the people that were here first. Why is it important you do not merely impress the Princess, but charm her? Because no, Achilles, I will not simply make you an Archon.¡±
Ceruviel leaned back, and when she spoke, it was with a grin of ambition.
¡°If I have my way, I will make you our King.¡±
B1 | Chapter 44: Bannerlord
READ THE AUTHOR NOTE ABOVE
Braedon Eldormer slammed his silver-armored fist against the manastone table in anger, and threw down the missive he¡¯d received with a surge of frustration. His hair, long and blond, bounced off of his breastplate when he did and he gritted his white teeth together in annoyance.
¡°{Problem, my prince?}¡± his Seneschal, Ilyna, asked calmly.
¡°{Ceruviel Latherian visited my sister,}¡± Braedon growled under his breath, and paced away from the manastone table with a flair of his blue cloak toward the floor-to-ceiling window of his private apartments, facing out toward the Sunrise Quarter of Dawnhaven. ¡°{It isn¡¯t enough that the Duchess refuses to acknowledge my rightful claim to the throne, but she also continues to all but spit in the face of my lawful seniority!}¡±
¡°{Your Highness did insult her quite assiduously with your proposition,}¡± Ilyna remarked without concern for his reaction. The tall, willowy blue-haired woman was nothing if not blunt. Had she not been as sharply beautiful as she was intelligent, it might have been annoying¡ªbut despite her lack of pronounced curves, the tightness of her body and enchanting planes of her athletic figure more than made up for her direct personality. ¡°{I would imagine that her loyalty to the Princess is very likely cemented.}¡±
¡°{I misstepped with her,}¡± Braedon admitted after a moment of reflection, and a soothing relaxation of the reactive surge within his [Sunflare Core]. ¡°{That does not explain nor justify her repudiation of my bloodline inheritance. Father chose me as the King of this future nation, to carry on the traditions of the House of Eldormer. The Dusk-Lord swore an oath!}¡±
¡°{Oaths are powerful things, my prince, but only when they bind absolutely,}¡± Ilyna pointed out in the same calm, unruffled manner he¡¯d come to rely on from his Seneschal. ¡°{The Dusk-Lord¡¯s oath was to protect the nation, enforce its laws, and serve the future monarch. Nowhere in that oath is there a stipulation to serve you specifically.}¡±
¡°{I know that,}¡± Braedon grunted while staring out of the window.
¡°{And yet you are incensed that she has so readily given her fealty to the Princess, despite your own actions pushing her that way?}¡±
¡°{I am to be a King, Ilyna!}¡± Braedon said while turning to her. ¡°{Is building a worthy Harem not my duty? Is Ceruviel Latherian not the perfect candidate, much like you?}¡±
¡°{It is an honor to be in the Royal Harem, my liege, but that was a choice made by each of us,}¡± Ilyna said without missing a beat. ¡°{You cannot expect the same thought processes from a warrior as you might from a scholar like myself, especially given Ceruviel¡¯s particular personality quirks. I did advise you against your attempt to claim her.}¡±
¡°{I simply assumed you felt threatened by her,}¡± Braedon said off-handedly, and perhaps a little more petulantly than was necessary. He was frustrated, of course, and that was why he was letting his resentment cloud his otherwise more reasoned judgment. At least, that was what he told himself. He had no interest in whether or not he¡¯d have been calm with or without the validity of Ilyna¡¯s points.
¡°{I am a Magistrix, your highness, and the Dusk-Lord is a Knight. The only threat she poses is of a physical nature, and I hardly think Ceruviel the type to want to challenge me to a brawl.}¡±
¡°{I¡¯m not denying that the thought was unfounded,}¡± Braedon muttered after several moments¡¯ of brooding silence, ¡°{but you can at least understand my initial skepticism.}¡±
¡°{We are both women of power, and you worried I would feel replaced or neglected.}¡± Ilyna reasoned in her perpetually unruffled manner. The Seneschal had been his law tutor prior to Braedon taking a liking to her, and he¡¯d claimed her as the third addition to his harem after his arranged fiancee and the daughter of one of the more obstinate Viscounts among the Reds.
¡°{Precisely!}¡± the Prince said with an emphatic nod. ¡°{I¡¯m glad to see you understand.}¡±
He knew she did, too. She was the one who¡¯d first encouraged him to build the harem early.
The Royal Harem, after all, was as much a political tool as it was a pleasure service, and knowing that he would bequeath royal titles on all children born from the harem¡ªeven if they couldn¡¯t technically inherit¡ªhad been enough to win over the obstinate man¡¯s allegiance.
It was a tool that Aylar couldn¡¯t make use of, given her physiological limitations. That gave Braedon the advantage in the Court in a way she couldn¡¯t match, other than the fact she was yet unpromised and hadn¡¯t even taken a lover. There was certainly a charm, he supposed, to the potential match of one of the many Noble sons to a virgin princess that might become Queen¡ªbut most of the Nobles were traditionalists.
They¡¯d rather see Braedon become King, even if he knew some of them did prefer his sister to him. Aylar was agreeable enough to look at and speak with, he could concede, even if she was just a royal daughter.
If his older sister had been born male, he might have even been worried.
As it was, he was two tiers and eighteen levels her better, and that gap would close neither quickly nor easily. Once he found the dungeon needed for the Rite of Ascension, though, it wouldn¡¯t matter either way. Aylar¡¯s ambition would be dead, the Dusk-Lord would fall in line or be exiled, and he would lead Dawnhaven into a glorious new future¡ªone rife with conquest, and territorial supremacy.
In his wildest fantasies, he even imagined conquering all of Terra¡ªor Planet 42.
The unofficial and official names were something of an oddity, given the System introduced their transmigrating species to the world as ¡®Terra¡¯ while simultaneously naming it [Unclaimed Planet 42]. It was a common trend during integration, he¡¯d heard, in order to allow the migrators to categorize the native life forms¡ªthough in the case of the Terrans, he¡¯d thought ¡®Dumb Dirt People¡¯ would suffice.
A sharp knock on the door pulled Braedon out of his reverie, and he turned to look toward the sound.
¡°{Enter!}¡± he ordered sharply.
One of his Royal Guards, Lyman, marched in with a Terran merchant at his side, and Braedon¡¯s lips downturned immediately at the creature¡¯s presence. The Terran wasn¡¯t just unappealing to look at, but was from a species that was more brutish and idiotic than some Orcs that Braedon had been granted the displeasure of meeting.
The one before him was short and wide, with greasy brown hair slicked back, a repulsive netting of curly facial hair across his fleshy neck and jaw, and clear sweat on his pale features from having to rapidly ascend multiple flights of stairs. He barely had any levels either, from what Braedon could deduce, and given his evident wealth was likely some manner of trade baron given the luxury required to be obese in an Incursion world.
You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.
He was everything Braedon detested in a person, in other words, on top of being part of what had to be one of his least-liked species encountered thus far.
The foolish, short-lived, and oddly multi-tonal primitives of Terra had no knowledge of magitech, magic, or the arcane sciences. Their people were disunited and deluded, categorized by multitudinous ethnic subspecies, and their entire governance was decentralized and relied on individual input to function.
It was utter madness.
Had it not been for Uriel, Ceruviel, and Aylar¡¯s objections during their initial settlement; he¡¯d have purged the entire lot of them and put them out of their misery, or at least enslaved them as menial labor. They didn¡¯t even have the good grace to specify their different subspecies by capacity and aptitude, like Svartfenn, Naiafenn, or Sterufenn and others. They simply saw one another as ¡®Terran¡¯, as if their independent lineages were unimportant in front of some demented concept of ¡®racial unity¡¯.
The lack of pride in their specific genuses was appalling.
The only genuinely enjoyable part of the species was the curvaceous endowments their females trended toward, and the hardiness of their males¡ªthough the sheer level of hair both sexes had was baffling. Other than beards in their older age among males, Haelfenn and Fenn in general were largely¡ªand thankfully, he mentally added¡ªdevoid of body hair below the eyebrows.
He knew some of the more savage races could change that when cross-bred with Fenn races, but had no desire for that personally. Ilyna had recommended he eventually find a Terran concubine, and he¡¯d very nearly shuddered at the thought. Bedding them for amusement was one thing, but breeding with one? It would be like impregnating a slave.
¡°{What is the purpose of this intrusion, Lyman?}¡± Braedon asked with thinly veiled annoyance.
¡°{This Terran has information you may wish to know, my lord.}¡±
Braedon raised an eyebrow at the helmeted guardsman, but fixed his blue eyes on the merchant coldly. The Terran smiled in a greasy way that made Braedon¡¯s stomach churn in disgust, but he gestured for the barbaric native to proceed with an idle wave of his hand.
¡°{Many hello, high youness,}¡± the creature began in broken Haelfennyr. ¡°{Me am hearing of many possible, and is one are being place big angry monster home! Me am see high youness want angry monster home for shiny hat. Then, me am here fast crawl see high youness and take giving for make little sad!}¡±
Braedon¡¯s eye twitched at the native¡¯s horrific butchering of his native tongue, and he very nearly opened his mouth to eviscerate the creature in its own guttural language before Ilyna intervened.
¡°You are saying that you discovered a Dungeon, one large enough to match the description of the Prince¡¯s enquiries?¡±
Braedon¡¯s eyes snapped to his Seneschal, the information processed, and then his eyes widened slightly when he turned back to the Terran.
¡°Oh! English!¡± the ignorant, corpulent trader said with laughable relief, ¡°yes. That is correct, ma¡¯am. I discovered through some contacts that a large Dungeon, one fitting the description of His Royal Highness¡¯ desires, has been discovered about fifty miles to the South.¡±
¡°And this dungeon,¡± Braedon interrupted before Ilyna could continue, ¡°is definitely a Major Core?¡±
¡°Yes, Your Royal Highness,¡± the merchant replied with a firm nod. ¡°The Adventurers I spoke to were quite adamant that the arrangement, runestones, and monsters around the entrance were all indicative of a matured dungeon core¡ªone that could serve as a catalyst for your Rite of Ascension.¡±
Braedon felt his [Sunflare Core] ignite with excitement and turned to Lyman.
¡°{Ready a Sword of the Royal Guard to depart immediately. I will need four to join me in the Delve. Additionally, rouse some of the Dawnguard to accompany us for supplies and provisions, and corral me some trustworthy blues from among the palace staff. I want to depart tomorrow. If this truly is the chance I need, there can be no hesitation!}¡±
¡°{Your Highness,}¡± Ilyna began warily, ¡°{perhaps a scouting mission would¡ª}¡±
¡°{No, Ilyna! The proactive hunter snares the game, and I cannot dither like a female when my future rests in the balance. If this Dungeon proves to be a dead end, it is better I discover it myself and confirm it, than rely on the eyes of others.}¡±
Braedon¡¯s mind, of course, was on his father¡¯s words, strictly informing him that a King acted as a leader, not merely a sedentary administrator. He had to take the initiative, not sit back and let others work¡ªand die¡ªin place of him. He had been raised and trained to defend his country, not sit idle and let others do it for him!
¡°{Conversely,}¡± Braedon continued, ¡°{and if what this monkey says is true, then I will finally have an end to this insane power struggle with my overwrought sister¡ªand Aylar can be firmly wedded off and removed from my concerns, once the Rite of Ascension is completed.}¡±
¡°{I only worry that this may be a ruse,}¡± Ilyna said with what Braedon recognized as careful measuring of her words. ¡°{Your sister is a shrewd woman, and she favors the Terrans. It is not impossible for this overwrought creature to be a distraction, intended to remove you from Dawnhaven while she pursues another agenda.}¡±
For all that she thought him ignorant of it, the Prince understood that his Seneschal and concubine liked to handle him like a volatile explosive, at times. He didn¡¯t mind it normally, as it showed good sense on her part. Aylar definitely was a shrewd woman, and Braedon acknowledged his sister¡¯s intellect, even if her physical capability was severely lacking.
In the present moment, however, it was a wholly unnecessary caution for many reasons.
¡°{Enough with your overcaution, Ilyna!}¡± Braedon said with a wave of his hand. ¡°{What have I to truly fear? Aylar hasn¡¯t even broken past her Second Temper yet. Before she even manages to reach level twenty, I¡¯ll be King! Even if she managed to find an appropriate Dungeon before me, it¡¯d be insane for her to test its limits prior to at least level twenty-five. We have the advantage of time and power on our side.}¡±
Braedon turned to the human, and smirked at him.
¡°You did well to aid your future King with this discovery, Terran. Lyman will show you out of the palace, and reward you with five platinum thrones. You have my gratitude.¡±
¡°Thank you, Your Royal Highness!¡± the Terran said with a lighting up of his greedy little eyes. ¡°Thank you very much! God bless you!¡±
Ugh. These monkeys and their ¡®God¡¯. As if deities other than the System could exist.
¡°Of course,¡± Braedon said out loud. ¡°Go with my thanks.¡±
The Merchant bowed as far as his prodigious belly would allow and retreated with Lyman, while Braedon turned to Ilyna with a smirk.
¡°{The end of this ridiculous game is in sight, Ilyna. Soon you¡¯ll be the concubine of a King, and the mother of little royals¡ªand all of Dawnhaven will have peace, stability, and prosperity for centuries to come.}¡±
¡°{I await such a day with great anticipation, my prince,}¡± Ilyna said with a bow of her beautiful, cerulean-haired head.
¡°{Then let¡¯s go celebrate my impending victory,}¡± Braedon stated with an easy smile, and a stirring of his loins. ¡°{And then plan my coronation! Who knows, I may even choose to pardon Ceruviel Latherian¡¯s behavior, if she shows appropriate contrition in the face of my rightful ascension as King.}¡±
¡°{Oh?}¡± Ilyna asked when he moved toward her, and swept the willowy female into his arms.
¡°{Oh yes,}¡± Braedon said with what he considered quite the magnanimous grin. ¡°{I¡¯ll even allow her to become my concubine after all is said and done. Is that not as generous as a King should be?}¡±
¡°{Very generous, your royal highness.}¡± Ilyna agreed with a demure smile.
Yes. Braedon thought while carrying the woman toward his bed, and enjoying the floral scent of her body. I am nothing if not magnanimous. All hail King Braedon, savior of Dawnhaven, and Conqueror of Terra.
Braedon Eldormer Rough Concept Art
B1 | Chapter 45: Why?
Leonidas stared up at the looming mansion that belonged to Ceruviel with a mix of trepidation and awe. The home was a towering demonstration of hedonistic indulgence, exactly like he¡¯d expect from his eccentric mentor. It was built up to four storeys high, and boasted gothic architecture mixed with the greco-roman thematic rampant throughout Dawnhaven¡¯s original Haelfenn construction projects.
Its grounds, such as they were, were walled on four sides¡ªwider than they were long, though he estimated that the front gardens alone must have been at least one hundred yards from the gate to the front door.
Members of the Duskguard stood in attendance as an honor guard around the manor¡¯s walls, and scarlet pennants flew from the pointed tops of its victorian-esque tower-rises along several points. The walls surrounding the manor were perhaps five yards high, and built from solid granite blocks that were seamlessly fitted together.
Windows adorned every level of the construction aplenty, with several balconies at the second level of the mansion, and floor-to-ceiling glass doors and windows adjoining those balconies to the building proper.
The roof tiles were colored a royal purple, and banners of a magenta hue¡ªperhaps representing Ceruviel¡¯s psionic talents¡ªhung from multitudinous locations across the exterior.
¡°{It is good to see that at least some things still surprise you,}¡± Ceruviel said as the immense gates swung inward, and the carriage trundled forward along the paved driveway leading toward the mansion¡¯s entrance.
¡°{Plenty of things about this new reality surprised me,}¡± Leonidas said with a dry look for the older elf.
¡°{Perhaps, but none too overtly. Your stoicism has been something of a frustration for me at times, I have to admit,}¡± Ceruviel said while smiling at him in amusement. ¡°{Even the sheer amount of gold I spent on outfitting your wardrobe merited no more than a sigh of consternation, of all things.}¡±
¡°{You sound disappointed by my lack of melodrama,}¡± Leonidas observed while glancing out of the window again at the decorations and meticulously maintained garden designs they were passing.
¡°{I am nothing if not a lover of entertainment, dear Achilles,}¡± Ceruviel said by way of answer, and then shrugged her bare shoulders. ¡°{And outside of the arena, and the occasional Adventure or foray into the wilds of this new world, people are the most reliable source of that entertainment.}¡±
¡°{I will endeavor to be more wide-eyed and slack-jawed, then.}¡± Leonidas replied with a quiet snort, and then looked toward the door when the carriage pulled in around the large circular arrival point, built around a massive fountain that he assumed was fed by magitech.
The fountain itself was the base of a large, fifteen foot statue that seemed to depict an ancient warrior in elaborate plate armor, sword held aloft.
Before Leonidas could ask questions, the door to the carriage was pulled open and he was greeted by what appeared to be a Butler in full attire, and a human one at that. He was above average in height, at a rough six feet and two inches, and had black hair shot through with bright silver. His cheeks were clean-shaven, but he had one of the most amazing and perfectly waxed handlebar mustaches Leonidas had ever seen.
¡°{Greetings, young master,}¡± the man said in British-accented Haelfennyr, ¡°{and Welcome to the Latherian Estate.}¡±
Leonidas really did let his jaw fall open this time, and Ceruviel laughed happily from opposite him when she saw it.
¡°{Yes! That is exactly what I wanted!}¡± the Duchess exclaimed gleefully. ¡°{Who knew that all it would take to achieve the result was Jefferies?}¡±
¡°{A pleasure to be of service, madam,}¡± the Butler, Jefferies, said calmly, and then gestured for Leonidas to disembark. ¡°{This way, young master.}¡±
Leonidas accepted the instruction wordlessly and disembarked from the carriage with a mixture of continued shock and sheer awe at the absolute perfection of the man¡¯s mustache. Almost automatically, he reached back to offer his hand to Ceruviel, who accepted it and stepped out after him, and then patted him on the arm approvingly.
¡°{Well done, Achilles. You can stop treating me like that now, though. There¡¯s no watching eyes here that we need to worry about. I scour the minds of my staff and attendants every moment they¡¯re near me.}¡±
Leonidas blinked out of his bewitched admiration of Jefferies¡¯ mustache, and then nodded in acknowledgement to Ceruviel¡¯s words. When he did, he noticed properly that they were not alone¡ªand was momentarily alarmed by how he¡¯d missed that fact.
His time on Elatra had honed his senses to a razor¡¯s edge, and yet he¡¯d completely missed the lineup of maids standing in white and purple attire in two neat rows leading to the stairs preceding the opened double doors of the mansion. Shock momentarily stole his response from him, and it was only Ceruviel¡¯s light tap on his arm that snapped him out of his distraction.
What the hell was going on with his mind?
¡°{Right. Sure,}¡± he said abruptly while trying to reorganize his thoughts, ¡°{how many staff are there, exactly? This place is palatial, Ceruviel. Unless you have a massive family you have not told me about, this estate is far too large for one person!}¡±
Ceruviel snorted at him quietly when he spoke, and stepped forward with a gesture for him to follow. When she did, the maids¡ªsome of which were non-elves of all types, he noticed¡ªslipped into perfect and synchronized curtsies. A surreal sense of disbelief filled him when it happened, and Leonidas quickly fell in on Ceruviel¡¯s left flank, while Jefferies moved ahead to stand diligently at the door, and await her entrance.
¡°{The Estate houses more than just residency for myself and my guests, Achilles,}¡± the Duchess stated matter-of-factly while striding forward and smiling at the maids fondly. ¡°{It houses my staff, my direct retainers, a garrison of the Duskguard, a private armory, ballroom, bath house, training area, entrance hall, dining hall, kitchens, and various smaller crafting alcoves, as well as a fully functional stables.}¡±
¡°{Of course it does,}¡± Leonidas said while gathering his wits, and focusing on steadying his bewilderingly inattentive mind. Jefferies bowed politely when the two entered the double doors into the dark-marbled entrance hall of the mansion, and Leonidas was greeted by the sight of ten foot high ceilings, an immense double-staircase at the far end of the hall, and multiple smaller but barely less ornate doorways on each side of the hall leading to different parts of the mansion.
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¡°{You will receive a full tour of the amenities and facilities later,}¡± Ceruviel said while leading the way toward the far staircase without pausing. ¡°{For now, I need a bath and some distraction. Jefferies will show you to your rooms. You will be housed near me, but far enough away that you won¡¯t run the risk of chancing on anything¡ untoward.}¡±
Leonidas took a moment to parse what she was saying, and then remembered the Duchess was a self-styled hedonist with a very, very liberal approach to sex and other such indulgences¡ªand his cheeks heated immediately.
¡°{That would be preferable,}¡± he muttered in second-hand embarrassment, and inspired a laugh from Ceruviel.
¡°{I cannot wait to see which of those girls break you in first, Achilles,}¡± his mentor stated slyly. ¡°{Synthra or Aylar, I wonder which it¡¯ll be?}¡±
¡°{You have an overactive imagination,}¡± Leonidas said firmly, and with total belief in the statement. The idea that he¡¯d ever end up with Synthra was insane, not to mention the damned Princess. Just because he had his Ambition and a desire to make Dawnhaven a sanctuary, did not necessarily mean he needed to do it the way she was suggesting.
There were other avenues for him to explore, he thought to himself while ascending the stairs quickly with Ceruviel and Jefferies, there had to be.
A traitorous moment of weakness took hold of his mind, however, and he imagined what the Princess might look like under her chiton¡ªand then grimaced. The moment he had the thought, his mind flashed back to Lyara, and the feeling of cold water returned with force. The Princess might have lacked Lyara¡¯s particular endowments, but the similarities were enough to haunt him.
His pulse quickened for reasons far removed from Ceruviel¡¯s desires, and he abruptly realized they¡¯d reached the third floor landing.
¡°{Here is where I leave you, Achilles,}¡± Ceruviel said with a firm look and matching tone. ¡°{Go to your room, settle in, and take your rest. This will be your last day of it. Tomorrow morning, we will begin.}¡±
Leonidas looked down at his pale-skinned mentor, and then simply nodded in acceptance. When he did, her purple eyes narrowed slightly.
¡°{Your mind is in turmoil again,}¡± she observed critically, ¡°{but I promised I would not pry. I simply hope you will correct the imbalance before we begin tomorrow.}¡±
Leonidas stiffened somewhat at her words, and simply nodded wordlessly.
¡°{Good,}¡± Ceruviel said before nodding to the butler, and unceremoniously striding forward down the corridor connected to the landing, and then taking a right at the end.
¡°{Our path lies on the left fork, young master,}¡± Jefferies said calmly while striding forward, ¡°{if you will follow me.}¡±
¡°{Yeah. Thanks,}¡± Leonidas said while following the Butler down the corridor, and trying to stabilize his thoughts. Ceruviel had seen through him, again, like he was made of glass. Be it her psionic gifts or simple experience and intuition, his mentor had detected the turmoil in his mind as easily as one might spot an encroaching storm.
Jefferies¡¯ footsteps became his guidestone while they walked, and Leonidas felt himself drifting again. Detaching, almost, from the reality around him. He felt inordinately exhausted, suddenly, after arriving in Ceruviel¡¯s home¡ªand everything from the moment he¡¯d first met the Dusk-Lord until that very moment felt like someone else¡¯s life.
By time Jefferies led him down the left fork of the corridor¡¯s end, and stopped in front of the large double-doors to his own apartments to usher him in, Leonidas had to be addressed twice before he realized the Butler was speaking to him.
¡°{Pardon?}¡± he asked while snapping out of his fugue.
¡°{We are here, young master. I was explaining your amenities, but I think rest is the most important thing for you at present,}¡± the Butler said with a carefully assessing grey stare. ¡°{I will ensure the maids are nearby if you have need of them. You need only pull the golden cord by your bed. Elsewise, I shall leave you to your rest.}¡±
The Butler bowed when Leonidas nodded, waited only until he¡¯d entered the rooms assigned to him, then closed the doors and left.
Leonidas came back to himself after the doors closed long enough to step through a small entrance corridor, past an outer guest area, and into a second set of doors to the room proper. There, he barely even spared a glance for anything else after spying the immense four-poster bed, and instead beelined for it immediately.
A growing sense of unease, discomfort, and nausea was building in him¡ªand on top of it all was a mounting, and overwhelming sense of exhaustion. He felt short of breath, suddenly, and like his mind was compressing. If he¡¯d been asked what had caused the sensation, why it had abruptly eventuated, or what had triggered it, he¡¯d have been wholly unable to say.
It was half in a dream, half consciously that he pulled off his jacket, tore off his tie, removed his shoes, and slid out of his pants. Attired only in a silk shirt and briefs, he sat on the edge of the bed and stared down at his naked hands.
Blood met his gaze, coating his fingers and palms in red, thick, and oozing liquid.
Another sharp, shallow breath escaped him and he blinked¡ªand the blood was gone. Leonidas felt his chest tighten, and he squeezed his eyes shut against a sudden pressure, a pain, a gnawing feeling in the center of his stomach and sternum. It was impossible to put into words what it felt like, and his head almost seemed to contract and expand at the same time when he reached up, unthinking, and gripped his black hair in his fists.
He needed to talk to Lyara, he realized. She¡¯d know what to do. She always knew what to do.
His eyes snapped open, and he turned to look at the elf¡ªand then froze.
She wasn¡¯t there. He wasn¡¯t on Elatra.
Leonidas¡¯ eyes turned back toward the door to his apartments, and he felt chills roll through him. First his body, then his blood, and then back along his spine. His fingers twitched, his lips spasmed, and he fell backward onto the bed. Something was wrong with him, he realized. Something was very, very wrong with him.
His [Cataclysm Core] growled in his solar plexus, and Leonidas took slow, steady breaths in an effort to calm what was suddenly a torrential rage of energy demanding to be let loose. He couldn¡¯t let it out. He couldn¡¯t let it go. He couldn¡¯t let it free.
Why?
Because it¡¯s dangerous.
Why?
Because it¡¯s not safe.
Why?
Because I can¡¯t control it.
Why?
Why?
Why?
Leonidas¡¯ eyes closed, and he distantly heard someone sob. Who was crying? Why were they crying? Why were they sad? Couldn¡¯t they see he had his own fucking problems?
Leonidas raised his hands and shoved his palms against his eyes.
¡°I dunno what to do, Lyly,¡± he said into the silence of the air, pronouncing the nickname as ¡®Lily¡¯ the way she¡¯d loved. ¡°You were here, and now you¡¯re not. I think I¡¯m going crazy.¡±
Why?
¡°I think it¡¯s hitting me. I think it¡¯s hitting me. I think it¡¯s hit¡ªhitt¡ªI think I¡¯m alone, Lyly.¡±
Why?
¡°I think I¡¯m alone for good, this time.¡±
Why?
¡°I wish I¡¯d died.¡±
Why?
¡°I wish I could die.¡±
That fucking crying was still happening, he thought irritably. That annoying idiot was still weeping, sounding like the world was ending, sounding like his lungs were bursting, sounding like his life was dead. He was still crying, and he was hoarse from screaming, and it was loud, and it was quiet, and it filled his head. He hated it. He hated them. He hated himself.
He hated living.
He hated, hated, hated.
Leonidas sank into darkness.
Why? Why? Why?
¡°Because,¡± he said into the black, ¡°I wish I had died.¡±
B1 | Chapter 46: Ghosts of What Was
Leonidas walked through nightmares.
His sleep was uninterrupted, though that was not for lack of his subconscious doing its best to act counter to that desire. His dreams consisted of remembered conflicts, nightmares, and the horrors of a five year campaign fighting against hell for the right to exist. He recalled the massacres, the lost lives, the companions who¡¯d fallen, and the screams of the dying when he cut through them like a hot knife through soft butter.
Leonidas had been more than simply powerful on Elatra, he¡¯d been a force of nature. Where he¡¯d stepped he had brought the fury of an invaded world upon the edge of his sword, and had strode amidst the calamitous remnants of a tarnished land to deliver justice upon the invaders that had sought its destruction. When in his waking mind, he could distract himself from those memories¡ªand on Elatra, Lyara had asked Caricus to create special mixtures that allowed him to have dreamless sleep.
On Earth, which was now Terra, there was no such escape from the nightmares.
The one that occupied him in the early morning light was calmer than most.
Leonidas walked through a barren field, its crops blackened and soil tarnished by the demonic blight extending out from the distant Abyssal Spire. His eyes swept the once-green fields and long-dead plants with a mixture of sadness and disgust. It had been two months since he¡¯d completed his training with Miranda and been sporadically deployed against Azrageth¡¯s forces, and every day seemed to bring some new horrific revelation.
The brutal training regime that Miranda had put him through had seemed excessive to Leonidas prior to his true experience to the war against the Demon Lord, and while he now understood its necessity, the simple truth was that he was yet to face anything that properly challenged his power¡ªpower that was, by all accounts, historically incomprehensible even at its nascent level of acquisition.
¡°These leagues of farmland once fed an entire city,¡± Caricus said sadly from his side, and Leonidas turned to regard the sorrowful Archmage when he spoke. ¡°Twelve thousand people lived on and worked the endless plains of fertile earth that once covered this desolate place.¡±
¡°{Their deaths would not have come easy,}¡± Lyara commented quietly in Haelfennyr from Leonidas¡¯ other side, and he glanced at the Princess to his left when she spoke. ¡°{Many would have tried to resist, and the Demons would likely have made brutal sport out of the slaughter.}¡±
The language of the Haelfenn¡ªHigh Elves¡ªwas one he was still learning, but the Princess¡¯ at first begrudging and gradually more enthusiastic tuition, combined with what appeared to be an arcane gift for language he¡¯d received upon transmigration, made learning the language very easy.
Leonidas¡¯ eyes turned back to the despoiled earth under his alabaster sabatons, and he peered at the blackened and rotted soil grimly. In some strange way, he could feel the death energy suffusing the land and robbing the fertility and life from the otherwise ideal farmland underfoot. The Abyssal Spires spread a malediction in the form of the Demonic Blight, one which was anathema to any growth or sustenance within their radius.
It didn¡¯t matter what manner of wards, spells, or protective measures were taken by the local populace either. When the Abyssal Spires were raised, through profane rituals and brutal sacrifice; the world withered in their proximity. Reality itself grew weak, and while some magicks also grew more powerful; anything aspected to life or nature became noticeably weaker.
Light Magic, despite all these factors, grew stronger. It had been hypothesized by Caricus that the divine force reacted to the blighted air like an opposing force, but Leonidas¡¯ eyes had glazed over when he¡¯d gone into a lengthy lecture about arcane theory and the laws of divine polarity.
Dead grass and brittle dirt crunched underfoot as Leonidas advanced, and a sense of filth pervaded his senses as he strode among the remnants of the farmland.
He opened his mouth to make mention of how eerie the area was, and then paused when a different sensation pinged his senses. His time under Miranda had focused on many different disciplines to best harness the power of his Radiance Core, but one of the most important was his capacity for sensing the nature and by extension the presence of demons.
That same sense was now ramping up rapidly within him.
¡°Guys?¡± he called warily. ¡°I don¡¯t think we¡¯re alo¡ª¡±
A cry of alarm from Lyara drew his attention, and Leonidas spun to see the blonde ranger staggering backward with her shortswords drawn, and her blue eyes transfixed on the ground beneath her. When he matched the direction of her gaze, Leonidas understood the reason for her alarm immediately.
Grasping, clawed hands were emerging from the soil¡ªand a sudden and blood-curdling shriek from the nearby stretches of decayed fields assaulted their ears a second later. His ¡®demonic radar¡¯ roared to full alert, and Leonidas felt a tidal wave of instinctive Light mana flood his channels in what he mentally envisioned as rivers of thick liquid gold.
¡°Contact!¡± Caricus roared while raising his staff, and unleashing a red ball of light high into the sky to signal the stretched out Lance of Haelfenn heavy infantry that had accompanied their scouting mission. Miranda had sent them so that Leonidas could gain some experience with the essence of the Blight, but all reports had given a status of abandonment to the fields following the nascent Grand Alliance¡¯s victories in the area.
They had expected the demons to have pulled back to defend the Spire itself.
Clearly, the reports had been wrong¡ªor worse, doctored to give false intelligence.
Winged abominations hung with flayed flesh and marked by immense bat-like wings flew toward their location in a cloud of darkness, identified by the whine of the bone-like spikes on their bodies cutting the air, and the horrifying screams they emitted from their circular, lamprey mouths.
Meanwhile the earth around them continued to erupt with pale-white hands as possessed dead farmers and Tainted¡ªcorrupted mortal followers of the Demon Lord¡ªtore themselves from the blackened soil in ever-increasing numbers that seemed intent on surrounding the trio.
¡°Shriekers Spireward!¡± Caricus warned loudly as the creatures approached, ¡°and Walkers buried around us, at least five Lances from my pulse-check!¡±
¡°{We need to retreat!}¡± Lyara shouted while cutting down two of the possessed that attempted to attack her.
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¡°We can¡¯t!¡± Caricus retorted while firing off a blast of lightning, ¡°they¡¯re massing behind us as well!¡±
¡°{A trap?!}¡±
¡°It seems so,¡± Caricus confirmed grimly, ¡°but what could have¡ª¡±
Both the Archmage and the Princess turned to Leonidas at the same time, and his stomach dropped when they did. Of course it was him that had triggered the waiting Demonic forces. The Summoning of the Hero had hardly been a secret on Elatra, and it was only a matter of time before Azrageth learned about it. Why wouldn¡¯t the Demon Lord attempt to test him, or worse, kill him before he could become a real threat? He hadn¡¯t even truly been part of a proper assault, yet.
His mouth turned dry as he drew his Aethersteel Longsword and assumed the ready stance Miranda had drilled into him.
¡°We need to get Leonidas to safety!¡±
¡°{How the hells are we going to do that?}¡±
¡°I can telep¡ª¡±
¡°NO!¡± Leonidas cut in abruptly, and layered Lumenkill Swordforce over his blade with a sweep of his right hand, ¡°I can¡¯t keep running away at the first sign of danger. I¡¯m the Hero, right? I have to make a stand!¡±
He had no idea where the courage came from, nor why he had the need to make the statement, but he also understood that there was an inescapable truth to the sentiment: he had been summoned to Elatra to end Azrageth, not flee every time there was even moderate risk to his continued survival. He understood the ¡®get down mr president¡¯ mentality, but damned if he was going to keep playing into it.
His racing heart and sweaty palms notwithstanding, Leonidas had to make a stand.
A sudden eruption of dirt momentarily startled him, and then Leonidas was face to face with three of the possessed, against whom he raised his Swordforce-illuminate blade¡ªand then froze. The perfectly preserved, albeit pale faces of three young children stared up at him and Leonidas felt his resolve turn to water in his mind. Lyara screamed something at him, Caricus called out in warning, and Leonidas¡¯ eyes widened when all three of the possessed launched themselves at him.
Icy fingers, with blackened nails sharpened to razor points, scraped against his white warplate and pulled him to the ground, and Leonidas stared up in horror at the doll-like face of the little girl atop him¡ªher features so disturbingly reminiscent of Kairi when she¡¯d been young.
¡°You¡ let¡ them¡ kill¡ us¡¡± her voice rasped in accusation.
Leonidas opened his mouth to cry out a denial.
Black-clawed fingers reached for his eyes.
The world flashed red with a wave of blood¡
¡and Leonidas snapped awake with a heaving gasp, and snarl of desperate rage. His [Archon¡¯s Psiblade] was gripped in his right hand, shimmering with then haze of [Psionic Swordforce] along its length, and a stranger stood back from him against the wall¡ªwith another standing frozen at the door to¡ where was he?
A wild sense of self-preservation filled Leonidas¡¯ mind, and he felt his [Cataclysm Core] snarling within his solar plexus as he looked rapidly between the two women. The room flashed rapidly, between a place he¡¯d known in Melredor and a place he didn¡¯t. Were they assassins? Had Azrageth sent them? His eyes narrowed in fury, and Leonidas felt himself approaching the verge of unleashing his Cataclysm Mana to run wild and give him the power to punish the fools that dared to try to slay the Hero of Elatra.
The two women seemed to meld and shift in front of his eyes; one moment a pair of Haelfenn maids, the next a pair of sneering demons. An illusion, perhaps? Magic wrought to mess with his vulnerable mind?
¡°Who sent you?¡± he demanded furiously, blinking through the flashes of the room while his left hand pooled with psionic power in the form of an awaiting [Psikinetic Blade]. ¡°What is Belithar? Are you his creatures?¡±
Leonidas¡¯ Core roared more furiously in his solar plexus, and he pointed the sword at the would-be assassins wildly while the room continued to flicker between what was and what is. ¡°Perhaps this is a ploy of Asterithrix? Is this the work of the Succubus Queen? Tell me!¡±
He threw off the blankets and scrambled to his feet as the closest of the two women beat a hasty retreat toward the door, and blinked rapidly against the bleeding colors occluding his sight. He was the Hero of Elatra! He had survived countless assassins! He had weathered the hunts of the greatest of the Demon Lord¡¯s minions! He had killed the Succubus Queen with his own two hands, and burned the life out of the depraved bitch with Lumenkill Hyperlance at point-blank range!
He had¡ He was¡
The¡ Hero of¡ Elatra?
Leonidas¡¯ eyes snapped to the first of the women again, and he realized that she looked vaguely familiar. The bleed effect distorted slowly, and the grip on his sword weakened somewhat. A servant? One of the¡ one of the maids? A maid from¡ Ceruviel¡¯s mansion. Yes, he was in Ceruviel¡¯s mansion in the city of Dawnhaven. He was¡ he had been asleep, he remembered. He¡¯d been sent to bed by the Dusk-Lord, his mentor, after arriving in the¡ He had fought in the arena, and it¡ He was in the mansion where she lived. He was safe.
They were maids, he realized, and he was safe.
Leonidas unsteadily lowered his sword-wielding hand, and blinked rapidly against a surge of shock¡ªand a surge of memory. He was safe in the seat of power of his mentor, after returning to Earth, or rather Terra, from Elatra following his final battle with Azrageth. He no longer had a Radiance Core, but a [Cataclysm Core] in its place instead. He was Ceruviel¡¯s squire, and a Copper-ranked Adventurer.
He was safe.
I¡¯m safe, he repeated mentally. I¡¯m safe. I¡¯m safe.
He wasn¡¯t on the battlefield anymore.
¡°{Where¡}¡± Leonidas swallowed against a suddenly dry mouth, and struggled to breathe through a growing case of tachycardia, ¡°{where is the Princess? I need the¡ get me the Princess!}¡±
The maids remained utterly silent at his question, even looking confused by it, and Leonidas in turn felt himself growing somewhat dizzy, and staggered back to stumble down and sit on the edge of the bed. ¡°{I need¡ I need water, and a¡}¡± he shook his head to clear a sudden ringing his ears, and swallowed back against a shortness of breath. ¡°{Please¡ I just¡ get me Lyara. I need the Princess, she has to¡ I need the¡ My head is grey. It¡¯s all grey.}¡±
His voice was slurred to his own ears, and he dropped his [Archon¡¯s Psiblade] with a clatter. ¡°{Go fetch her! Quickly! I need¡ªI have to speak with the Princess, curse you!}¡±
The maids said nothing, but Leonidas distantly noticed them leaving, and his hands came together over his solar plexus. He squeezed it, and his biceps strained while he dug his nails into his abdominal muscles hard enough that he thought his nails might have pierced the flesh¡ªa distant, and easily ignored feeling when compared to the pounding in his ears. He could hear his own blood. He could hear ringing.
And through it all, his [Cataclysm Core] sang to him.
It sang for the release of armageddon. It sang for the end of all confusion. It offered him the purity of a mind unhampered by weakness or pain, only the sweet clarity of absolute obliteration¡ªof everything, and everyone.
Most importantly, it offered peace; and the final obliteration of him.
And slowly, second by second, Leonidas started to listen.
B1 | Chapter 47: Carry On Wayward Son
Leonidas¡¯ [Cataclysm Core] hummed with a thirst for annihilation while he sat on the edge of his bed, staring down at the floor, with his forearms on his knees and his fingers twitching slightly while his hands hung limp toward the floor. His mind was a seething mass of disjointed and complex recollection that warped his perception of what was present and what was not.
He understood that he was in Ceruviel¡¯s Mansion, and yet a stubborn part of his mind insisted he were still able to speak to Lyara, and find solace in her kindness and warmth. He understood he was no longer the Hero of Elatra, and yet he still felt the mounting pressure of delivering the world, and of defeating Azrageth¡ªeven at the cost of his own life.
Not his physical self, which he had long ago resolved to turn into a weapon; but his existence as a person, his mental fitness, and his right to a normal life. The isekai process he had undergone was often romanticized in common media, and his expectations of a similar experience had lasted right up until the first day of his training with Miranda.
Miranda.
His mentor¡¯s name conjured the image of the olive-skinned blonde¡¯s penetrating green eyes, and the grim look of resolve she¡¯d often demonstrated throughout his time knowing her. What would she have thought, if she¡¯d seen him sitting there with his mind unraveling from the latent stress of his time on Elatra, and the subsequent shocks to the system that returning to Terra had given him?
The very thought of his former mentor¡¯s consternation and disapproval inspired a bitter laugh, and he reached up to run his fingers through his hair as the ringing in his ears subsided somewhat. His [Cataclysm Core] continued to offer sibilant whispers of deliverance, and sing its ode to destruction within the center of his being.
The temptation to allow his Core to pursue its natural impetus was overwhelming in as much as it was repulsive, and Leonidas found himself leaning toward the idea of letting it run rampant if only to stop the stress and the anxiety in their tracks. He could feel his psyche barely holding together, thanks as much to his own force of will as it was to the stability¡ªfrayed as it may be¡ªof his own self.
Reality being what it was, Leonidas knew that he hadn¡¯t simply woken up to the mental devolution he was experiencing: he¡¯d been putting it off, shoving it down, and running away from the building cacophony within his mind for weeks, months, perhaps even years. He¡¯d never addressed the pain, the confusion, or the consuming trauma of what he¡¯d encountered as the Hero.
Instead he¡¯d relied on Lyara¡¯s help suppressing it, and Caricus¡¯ aid in drugging himself so thoroughly he never needed to relieve the terrible things he¡¯d seen¡ªor done with his own hands¡ªduring the desperate war against Azrageth. Hero had been his title, but as once reflected; he¡¯d likely have been thrown into a deep, dark, forgotten cell of the most secure prison humanity could find if he¡¯d done even a tenth of what he had on Elatra while still on Earth.
His time in Elatra had scarred him more than he¡¯d ever cared to admit, and without Lyara¡¯s soothing presence and Caricus¡¯ calming dream tonics, he was being forced to face a cresting and crashing wave of guilt and trauma that had been held firmly at bar for the better part of all five years he¡¯d been on Elatra.
Between the reminder of Miranda that Ceruviel represented, the reminder of Lyara that Aylar represented, and the calamitous pile-on of stress and shock each hour of his first day back on Terra; it was simply a miracle, he surmised, that he¡¯d lasted as long as he had.
Battle was something of an escape for Leonidas, admittedly, but that was not any better than the trauma he was in theory attempting to escape or run from. Battle merely offered an outlet, and one that was ironically adding more fuel to the smoldering fire even as it alleviated some measure of immediate stress and concern.
The Goblins had been a breaking point, where his [Cataclysm Core] and its violent energies had eroded some measure of the shield he¡¯d forged around his mind, and sloughed away a chunk of the barrier keeping his delirium and pent-up stress in place.
The Hive Tyrants had been another step along the process of that unraveling, as had his agreement to work with Ceruviel¡ªand the subsequent hearkening back to Miranda that came from that alliance.
When Sinalthria had measured his power in the Guild Hall, another piece of the wall had been stripped away, and then when he¡¯d actually seen his Cataclysm Mana for the first time, something inside of him that opened up to the possibility of truly letting it run rampage there and then. It had been both disturbing, and beguiling in equal measure, and it had excited him in a subconscious way.
The Slayer Trial had been another stepping stone toward that unraveling, whether he¡¯d realized it or not, first when he¡¯d dispatched Zalaza and then Pheona, and nearly murdered Luciaro for simply being his opponent.
Synthra had been the icing on the cake, and his use of the Cataclysm Mana there had¡ªwhether he¡¯d realized it or not¡ªopened up a solid crack in the shield around his psyche, and left room for his passive trauma and [Cataclysm Core] both to lightly and steadily widen the crack until it was a gaping wound.
Then there was the Princess.
Meeting Aylar had tipped the scale firmly over the edge, and obliterated what remained of his mental defenses. His trauma, his memories, and his unexplored desire for the woman she so reminded him of had reached a kind of internal critical mass that had finally detonated after his retirement into his new apartment¡ªand now he was reaping the result of that multi-stepped devolution of his mental capacity.
¡°How did it come this far?¡± he asked hoarsely into the silence of the room.
¡°{You were too young for what you experienced, Achilles,}¡± Ceruviel¡¯s voice responded, and snapped Leonidas¡¯ eyes up as a result. The armored and fully attired Dusk-Lord viewed him with faintly glowing purple eyes from the door, and her expression was a mix between careful and intently focused.
¡°You don¡¯t get it,¡± he replied to her quietly, and then looked back down at his hands, which he squeezed into fists out of frustration, ¡°I¡¯m not crazy.¡±
¡°I know,¡± Ceruviel responded in English, while stepping forward and coming to a halt near the edge of his four-poster, the right side of which he was seated upon. ¡°You are many things, Achilles, including relentlessly driven and full of contrary views; but you are certainly not mad.¡±
¡°My Core wants me to unleash it on this place¡ªand everything around here,¡± Leonidas said with a muted sense of partial dissociation. He took a breath after he spoke, and tried to tune out the siren song of his [Cataclysm Core] and its hungry offer of sweet oblivion. ¡°I can find peace if I let it consume everything, but I don¡¯t know if I really want that.¡±
¡°I don¡¯t think you do,¡± Ceruviel agreed while stepping closer, and resting her shoulder against one of the posts of the immense bed. ¡°I don¡¯t think you want to unleash it any more than you want to tell me why you asked for Princess Aylar to come and see you, in a fit of disturbed anger.¡±
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¡°Aylar? I didn¡¯t. I asked for Lyara, not¡ªoh¡¡±
¡°The only Lyara I personally know, Achilles, is no Princess,¡± Ceruviel continued conversationally. ¡°She¡¯s a baker¡¯s daughter in the Residential Quarter.¡±
¡°It¡¯s¡ it¡¯s hard to explain,¡± he muttered.
¡°You¡¯ve been hiding something rather massive from me, and I understand why, Achilles. You¡¯ve known me almost exactly for twenty-four hours as of an hour ago, and you¡¯re carrying a burden heavier than anything I¡¯ve sensed even in the King of Altera,¡± Ceruviel observed while her purple eyes, still aglow, narrowed on him in consideration. ¡°When Jefferies first informed me you¡¯d cracked, I intended on seeing whether or not I needed to put you down like a rabid hound¡ªbut now that I¡¯m here, I can see that this is far less about you cracking, and far more about you needing help.¡±
¡°I suppose you¡¯re regretting your pronouncement yesterday,¡± Leonidas said with a hollow chuckle. After all, who wanted an emotionally unstable twenty-something as a King? He still thought the whole idea was insane, himself, so perhaps some good would come of his devolving mental state.
¡°On the contrary, I am more convinced of my plan than ever before,¡± Ceruviel stated with supreme confidence he couldn¡¯t emulate on his best day, and which seemed so very like Miranda that he felt a crack of reality around his perception as the blonde human¡¯s image momentarily flickered into overlay upon the silver-haired Haelfenn Duchess.
¡°Why?¡± Leonidas asked simply.
¡°Because your weakness only increases your potential for greater strength, Achilles,¡± Ceruviel said without missing a beat, or blinking her focused eyes. ¡°Lesser minds may see this as a critical failure, but I do not. What I see is a boy that became a man, forged and tempered in a crucible that even the most veteran of Alteran warriors would struggle to comprehend. I do not know how you came to partake in the kind of horrific nightmare I have glimpsed on the surface of your mind¡ªand I do not, despite all suspicion to the contrary, rightly care.¡±
¡°How can you not?¡± Leonidas asked in bewilderment, while idly reaching up to rub at his aching temple. ¡°How can you so easily dismiss my memories as ¡®not relevant¡¯, and respect my privacy? You baffle me, Ceruviel. By rights, you should be scouring my mind!¡±
¡°Do you want to murder me, Achilles?¡±
¡°Excuse me?¡± Leonidas asked with such surprise that his mind momentarily stabilized with pure focus on her question.
¡°Do you want to murder Aylar?¡±
¡°Of course not!¡± he said with indignant anger.
¡°Do you want to murder the people of Dawnhaven?¡± Ceruviel pressed.
¡°That¡¯s absurd!¡± Leonidas answered with more anger. ¡°I am haunted by ghosts, Ceruviel, or perhaps memories¡ªbut either way, those things are not the fault of the people in Dawnhaven!¡±
¡°Then you know why I am not fileting your mind like a carp,¡± Ceruviel responded in the same calm tone of voice, with that standard edge of authoritative dictation. There was absolute, and supreme confidence to her voice while she spoke, ¡°I am a very, very powerful Psionic, Achilles. What many others struggle to understand, I know with instinctive immediacy. Where I Uriel, then yes, perhaps you would be seen as an unstable element¡ªor a threat to be culled.¡±
The Dusk-Lord lifted her right hand lazily, and made a circle by moving her forefinger idly. ¡°I could psikinetically implode your skull with as much effort as it would take someone else to lift a sheet of glass, or perhaps even less given your untempered state. My interest in you has always been about your potential, Achilles, and not your actual power at the moment.¡±
¡°I¡¯m still a threat, though,¡± Leonidas said with a mix of confusion and doubt.
¡°Your trauma does not make you a threat, Achilles, it makes you a young man sorely in need of help,¡± Ceruviel said in what Leonidas thought might have almost been an empathetic tone, not a sympathetic nor pitying one. He wondered if the elven woman was perhaps speaking from some measure of experience. ¡°We have ways of dealing with that in Dawnhaven, but since I have no desire to simply lobotomize your mind, we will need to approach it more delicately.¡±
¡°You sound as if you know what it¡¯s like,¡± Leonidas said simply.
¡°Of course I do,¡± Ceruviel said with a snort and a shake of her head. ¡°I am three hundred and sixty-nine years old, Achilles. My hair color may be the only thing that¡¯s changed since I reached adulthood, but that does not mean I have not experienced my fair share of trauma. I have seen family, lovers, and friends die¡ªand I have committed atrocities in the name of my homeland.¡± Your hands are no more stained than anyone else¡¯s Achilles; you simply do not have the centuries of experience to cope with the weight of it and press onward.¡±
The Dusk-Lord reached up to brush some of that silver hair from her eyes, and fixed him with a firm stare while pointing her right forefinger at him decisively, ¡°were it not for the limitations of my station on Altera, I would already be at my seventh or eighth tier. It is only providence disguised as misfortune that kept me below level sixty, and allowed me to make the journey to Terra. I have been where you are, Achilles, and I have emerged out of the other side stronger for it. So will you.¡±
Leonidas stared at Ceruviel for a long moment, and once again he was lost for words. Why, he wondered once more? Why did this ancient, powerful, and capable woman seem so insistent on helping him? By rights, she should have put him down or exiled him to drown in his own demons, and yet now she was giving him a pep talk, of all things, while he was in the middle of a pseudo-psychotic break.
¡°I can barely make reality out from memory right now,¡± Leonidas admitted after several long moments of confused silence, ¡°and that is not for lack of trying. I know where I am, but sometimes I¡ª¡±
¡°¡ªgo somewhere else,¡± Ceruviel finished simply, ¡°and then the people around you are someone else, and then your mind struggles to find fact from fiction, and your terror at that turns to violence, or internalized loathing, and along that path lies¡¡± she sighed quietly, ¡°something not worth discussing, I suppose.¡±
Leonidas grimaced at her words, and reached over his abdomen to squeeze at the [Cataclysm Core] humming aggressively in his solar plexus. It was becoming even more insistent, despite Ceruviel¡¯s calming words. He could feel his control slipping.
¡°I can help you,¡± the Dusk-Lord said after a moment. ¡°I can help you focus with my powers, and teach you how to hold the pain at bay¡ªbut I need to know what I¡¯m dealing with, Achilles. I promised I would not extract the information until you felt ready, but either you must tell me, or tell a stranger paid to guide you through. I, at least, can help you use your powers in the process.¡±
Leonidas looked up at her when she spoke, and a mix of hesitation and trepidation flooded through his mind. Ceruviel was right, of course, in that a therapist would only be a perfect stranger¡ªand one no longer beholden to the privacy laws that once governed the world, if they even believed him in the first place. They lacked the capacity for discerning the truth that the Dusk-Lord possessed, and couldn¡¯t even offer him a meaningful way of managing his trauma anyway. Not in a reliable timeframe.
Ceruviel could. She could teach him to not only manage it, but master it.
He let out a ragged breath, and his eyes unfocused again when Miranda¡¯s specter overlaid Ceruviel one more time.
What do you think? He asked the ghost silently.
Miranda simply stared at him, and finally gave a small nod.
We are all weak sometimes, Leonidas. What matters is knowing when to accept another¡¯s aid, not pretending it never happens.
He nodded slightly at his mentor¡¯s remembered words, and turned to Ceruviel.
¡°I want you to promise this stays between us, no matter what. I have only known you a day, but¡ I can¡¯t live life trapped by my own trauma, or haunted by my own power.¡±
¡°You have my Oath,¡± Ceruviel said without blinking or breaking eye contact.
¡°I trust you,¡± Leonidas said simply, and was surprised to realize he meant it, too. The Duchess might have been abrupt and manipulative, but honed instinct told him she was also a woman that would always keep her word. Miranda had been like that, too.
Ceruviel graced him with a half smile, and then Leonidas took a breath, and told her everything. He spoke from the heart, starting from his day of transmigration, and even the source of his name and why the whole thing was so ironic and amusing for him when it first happened. Then he told her about Elatra, about Miranda, and about Lyara¡ and more.
When he started speaking, he didn¡¯t stop, and Ceruviel didn¡¯t interrupt other than to ask clarifying questions.
And for the first time since fighting Azrageth, he started to feel like himself again.
B1 | Chapter 48: Nothing More to Say
¡°A tutorial world, a Demon Lord, and a mirror of a princess from Altera?¡±
¡°It sounds crazy, I know,¡± Leonidas responded with an exhausted sigh, ¡°but I swear every word is true.¡±
Ceruviel shook her head at his words from where she sat in a chair opposite him, and reached up to idly brush some silver hair from her lavender eyes as she spoke.
¡°I know it¡¯s true, Achilles. I can read your mind like an open book. What concerns me is not your honesty, but the implications of this tale¡ªand what it means going forward.¡±
¡°I suppose things will have to change?¡±
¡°Of course they will,¡± Ceruviel replied with a snort. ¡°Now that I know you spent the better part of five years waging a nightmare war against literal demons from myth, I need to rethink my training schedule!¡±
Leonidas¡¯ eyes widened slightly, and the Duchess nodded decisively.
¡°Starting you off with basic forms seems wholly irresponsible and pointless now. No doubt you have some bad habits, but if this Miranda was half as thorough as you made her sound¡¡±
¡°She was,¡± Leonidas said quietly, ¡°tough as nails, and incredibly unrelenting¡ªbut it kept me alive, even when I by all rights should have been killed.¡±
¡°Then I have a workable baseline, at least,¡± Ceruviel said while shifting her position and folding her right leg over her left idly. ¡°Your sword forms were passable in the trial, and in the Arena, but I did notice an archaic trend in your execution. You were well-trained, but in a manner that is far too ancient and incorporates too many elaborate movements.¡±
¡°That doesn¡¯t do much to alleviate my concerns about what the Tutorial was, Ceruviel,¡± Leonidas muttered while looking over at the fire that Ceruviel had lit during their discourse. It was pleasantly warm, in a way that didn¡¯t overbear or oversaturate him within the relative confines of his spacious room.
¡°Elatra sounds exactly like ancient Altera, and you sound precisely like at least five different legends I can think of, but nowhere is there mention of a Demon Lord,¡± Ceruviel commented with a thoughtful voice, ¡°let alone ¡®Abyssal Spires¡¯¡ªwhich bear a striking resemblance to the System Anchors¡ªor literal legions of the Hells.¡±
¡°So you think it was fake?¡±
¡°There are too many coincidences to state that with absolute certainty, like the Princess herself. Lyara? Aylar? Eldormer? Melredor? That parallel alone sticks with me. Something about it itches in my mind, though I couldn¡¯t tell you what it is.¡±
¡°It¡¯s strange that there isn¡¯t more to it,¡± Leonidas agreed with a sigh, ¡°though I¡¯ve also found that what limited amounts of my Cultivation experience I¡¯ve applied to the System have also paid dividends.¡±
¡°Yes, your title and bonuses bear some consideration. I think that is another avenue we¡¯ll need to explore more deeply, in fact.¡±
¡°You think it¡¯ll be worth it?¡±
¡°I would be a fool to dismiss it, Achilles. Whether or not that attainment was a fluke, or the beginning of a greater pattern, we can only learn through the scientific method. Based on everything you¡¯ve told me, and I admit I am still trying to wrap my mind around it all; you have considerable knowledge of the way that magic and mana works which can aid your growth exponentially.¡±
¡°You told me it didn¡¯t apply to Psi, though,¡± Leonidas pointed out.
¡°Oh, it does not,¡± Ceruviel affirmed with a nod, ¡°but that does not make it worthless. Your [Cataclysm Core], which itself is actually the least disturbing revelation of all this, strikes me as a thing of adaptability and change.¡±
The Duchess reached up to tap her pale chin, and hummed in thought before continuing.
¡°For all that its essence derides and degrades your self-control, so too does it enable a kind of exponential growth. Based on the System description of it, as well, I have some other theories¡ªthough those are far more difficult to test.¡±
¡°I take it you aren¡¯t going to share?¡± Leonidas guessed dryly.
¡°Not in the immediate, no,¡± Ceruviel said with a chuckle. ¡°Doing so would taint the experiment, sadly, and I think that would be to your detriment in the long run.¡±
Leonidas nodded at her words, and even if he disliked what she was saying, he understood the logic.
The argument could be made that she was senselessly endangering him, but he couldn¡¯t find it in himself to agree with that. There was considerable merit to the idea of the natural course taking its course, and Ceruviel was nothing if not experienced.
Sometimes allowing an eventuality to come about of its own accord, and with the triggering circumstance revealed after the fact, was better than attempting to engineer it¡ªand as a result, tainting the proverbial data.
After all, how was he to master his Core if his only experiences were catered?
Training in a controlled environment was one thing, and mastering the influence his Cataclysm Mana had over his common sense would not doubt be best honed in exactly such a circumstance¡ªbut that didn¡¯t meant that every single development needed to occur within the confines of an artificially constrained environment.
He was a theoretically unique existence on Terra, as far as he or Ceruviel were aware, and that meant that there was a measure of chaos that had to come into play with the development of his Core and abilities.
If he was not allowed to naturally experience developments as they happened, then he¡¯d be constrained¡ªor worse, weakened inadvertently by some misguided attempt at controlling his growth and progress.
For the sake of Dawnhaven, his family, and humanity at large, that could not be allowed to happen. If Leonidas wanted to build a sanctuary for the people he loved, and humans en masse, then he needed to be in control of himself.
Ceruviel had already helped him by using her talents to calm and soothe his mind of the hell-born trauma that had gripped it, and finally started causing him to fracture.
Now he needed to find a way to make her band-aid fix permanent.
¡°So where do we go from here?¡± Leonidas asked at last while leaning back into the armchair he occupied opposite the silver-haired Dusk-Lord.
¡°First we work on your training, as stated,¡± Ceruviel responded resolutely, ¡°and I was quite serious about reconsidering your load, and its intensity. Given your history, and regardless of whether or not you retained your deific ¡®Hero¡¯ skillset or physiology, there is no sense in treating you like an ignorant noob.¡±
¡°Did¡ did you just call me a noob?¡±
¡°I heard some of the Terrans using the term,¡± Ceruviel said with a glint of amusement in her eyes, ¡°and I found it quite amusing.¡±
¡°Jesus Christ¡¡±
¡°Your God cannot aid you here, Achilles. It is only you and I, and I have no intention of letting you skirt by haphazard simply because you were a little upset this morning.¡±
¡°I had a fucking mental break!¡± Leonidas protested.
¡°Yes, it was quite inconvenient. Thankfully, you were wise enough to confide in me¡ªand so, you shall no longer have to worry about such trifles as existential post-traumatic stress disorders. You are my Squire, after all. I would be a remarkably incapable Teacher if I did not instruct you on how to secure your mental fortitude moving forward.¡±
¡°I was just thinking that I¡ªdid you read my mind, Ceruviel?¡±
Ceruviel simply smirked at him, and rose from her seat when she did.
¡°The revelation of your reaction to Aylar now makes far more sense, as well, all things duly considered,¡± the Duchess said without actually answering him. ¡°It also means my plan is only more proper than ever before. Your attachment to Lyara, whether or not she did exist, is only a problem if you deem it to be.¡±
¡°It isn¡¯t that easy, I can¡¯t just¡ª¡±
¡°That is where you are wrong,¡± Ceruviel cut in firmly, though not without compassion in her eyes when she looked at him with her hands on her hips. ¡°You lived five years with these people, yet the Incursion happened only a year after you left¡ªdo you not find that odd?¡±
¡°I¡ well, yes, but I never really considered what it might mean,¡± Leonidas admitted.
¡°There are only two conclusions to draw, Achilles: either you experienced time differently, which I sincerely doubt given you were returned the same way you were prior to leaving, with the only difference being that your body was bereft of scars and set to your most optimal physical state. That leaves the only other possible answer: you were stasis-locked, and experienced a trial of the mind and spirit, not of the body.¡±
¡°So that means¡ª¡±
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¡°It wasn¡¯t real, Achilles,¡± Ceruviel said quietly, but firmly. ¡°It was not real, and you didn¡¯t actually lose anyone. For whatever reason, the System created a mimicry of Aylar in Lyara, with some odd choices in differentiated appearance given what you¡¯ve shown me.¡±
¡°What do you mean?¡± Leonidas asked while studiously ignoring the anxiety, pain, and denial welling in his mind like a cancer while Ceruviel spoke.
¡°I¡¯ve not known any Haelfenn woman with a bust that large outside of magical augmentation, so it strikes me that there was an element of subconscious fetishization occuring in your own mind when the System created her. I am considered very buxom among my kin, and I barely surpass what you Terrans consider nicely endowed.¡±
¡°I have noticed that Haelfenn seem pretty petite on the whole,¡± Leonidas admitted with a flush of his cheeks, ¡°though Synthra¡ª¡±
¡°Is of Draconic blood, and has extenuating circumstances around her physiology. In fact, excessively large curves are not seen the same way by my people as they are by yours. Aylar is actually considered a rare and impressively well-built beauty, all things considered.¡±
¡°Again with the blatant advertisement of her charms, Ceruviel? I thought we were past this,¡± Leonidas lamented while sinking into his chair.
¡°You miss my meaning, Achilles,¡± Ceruviel said with the same sigh he recognized as annoyance at his perceived short-sightedness. ¡°If Lyara was not real, then you are not betraying her memory by pursuing Aylar¡ªand in fact, are simply giving what you once thought might be real a chance to be real.¡±
The Duchess stepped closer, and prodded him firmly in the forehead.
¡°If Lyara was based off of Aylar, as improbable as it may seem, then this is your actual chance to see what might have been.¡±
¡°That¡¯s all very easy to say,¡± Leonidas said with a grimace after she poked him, ¡°but it does nothing to alleviate my feelings, Ceruviel. Whether or not I can logically accept it may have all been a hoax, my emotions and sense of experience were not fake.¡±
Leonidas reached up and rubbed at his biceps while he spoke, and his eyes turned back to the fire while the same feeling of heady anxiety welled up within him.
¡°I still remember every heartache, every loss, every strike, every victory, and yes, every defeat as if it happened. I still see them, Ceruviel. I see the dead women, children, and innocent villagers I put to the sword in the name of saving the world. I see their blood on the ground, I feel the fetid breaths of the possessed on my face, I still remember all of it perfectly.¡±
¡°This would be far easier if you were less mature,¡± the Duchess said half to herself, and half to him. ¡°You are both eerily wise and infuriatingly na?ve, Achilles. On one hand your comprehension of the weight of taking a life, and your guilt around what is very likely a made up campaign of nightmarish slaughter is endearing¡ªbut similarly, your stubborn insistence on not even entertaining the idea of moving on is aggravating.¡±
¡°You act like you just want me to pretend like I didn¡¯t experience those things!¡± he shot back with an annoyed glance. ¡°I can¡¯t just pretend they didn¡¯t happen, Ceruviel! It¡¯s all in here¡ª¡± he stabbed his forefingers into his temples angrily ¡°¡ªlike the world¡¯s most fucked up movie reel! You¡¯re asking me to just move on like it never happened!¡±
¡°Of course I am,¡± the Duchess replied flatly, ¡°because while you remain stuck in your memories of a world that may never have existed, Achilles, people here in the real world are dying. People here in the real world are suffering. People here, right now, in this very world you now occupy are being enslaved, tortured, raped, murdered, and System alone knows what else.¡±
Leonidas recoiled at her words, and opened his mouth to object to what Ceruviel was implying, but she rolled over him verbally.
¡°None of this is directly your fault, and neither do I for one second buy this idiotic idea that you are responsible for the untold billions that died during the Incursion¡ªbut the simple truth, Achilles, is that you have unprecedented potential.¡±
The Duchess¡¯ eyes narrowed while she spoke, and Leonidas saw a flickers of lavender fire burning within him.
¡°You defeated opponents that should have crushed you with sheer skill, insight, and experience alone. You triumphed where anyone else would have not only failed, but died. You defied everything we know to be constant with the System, and you did it all in your first bloody day back on Terra.¡±
¡°That doesn¡¯t explain what¡ª¡±
¡°This nation needs a King, Achilles,¡± Ceruviel continued fiercely. ¡°This world¡¯s people need hope, and more than anything else, I need someone to help me rebuild the Archon Order¡ªnot just for myself, but because in this cruel, twisted, and ferocious reality that the System has made our constant; a force like the Archons can do real and lasting good for all species. I have a week, Achilles, to get you into shape¡ªnot just to help Aylar with her Rite of Ascension, which you certainly shall, but also to impress her in the process.¡±
Leonidas glared at Ceruviel while she spoke, but said nothing while the Duchess continued. For all that he hated what she was saying, and found much of it to be somewhat illogical, there was an undercurrent of sense to what she was telling him.
The Archon Order reminded him greatly of Miranda¡¯s Knights, or the space wizards in a galaxy far, far away, or Power Rangers, or Witchers, or basically any monastic Order dedicated to the betterment of others.
And if they were even half as potentially powerful as he envisioned they could be, then being a founding member of such an Order and shaping it from its inception could allow him to do far more good than even taking control of Dawnhaven might.
He could influence their strictures, their edicts, their modus operandi, and their priorities. He could give birth to a force for true, tangible, and indomitable positivity in a world driven mad by the System Incursion.
¡°You may despise me for it, you may think me an old hedonistic half off her rocker for the notion, but I am determined. Aylar is a brilliant, compassionate, and fundamentally excellent young woman¡ªand you, Achilles, are going to do everything in your power to become the thing she loves more than life, and then you¡¯re going to fuck her brains out until you put a baby in her.¡±
¡°Ceruviel! You have got to stop with the¡ª¡±
¡°No! This is about more than just you, Achilles. This is about Dawnhaven. This is about Haelfenn, Terran, and everything in-between.¡±
The Duchess drew herself up, and fixed him with an imperious expression.
¡°I have seen what happens when poor rulers are given thrones, and I have lived through sub-par monarchs. Aylar¡¯s mother was a dear friend, and a mentor in many ways, and she begged me to look after her daughter¡ªand to ensure that she found the right husband.¡±
Ceruviel gestured at him decisively while she continued.
¡°You were born to rule. More than that, you have the ferocity, the ruthlessness, and the drive to see Dawnhaven survive. You were given power beyond comprehension by the System, and tempered in a crucible that even I¡ªwith centuries of life behind me¡ªshuddered to experience through your memories. You have been broken, reforged, and tempered inside of Hell, Achilles. There are threats to this city that nobody can conceive of, and if we are to survive, then I must take a leaf out of the book of your Charles Darwin.¡±
¡°Natural selection?¡± Leonidas asked with genuine surprise.
¡°Yes. Survival of the fittest. Either we become the apex predators, Achilles, or we are eaten by them. Aylar is everything we need in a Queen¡ªin an Empress, even, but she lacks one thing that is fundamental and essential to our very survival. Can you guess what that is?¡±
Leonidas shook his head, and simply watched her.
¡°It¡¯s something you cannot learn outside of the rarest and most horrific of experiences. Something that you, Achilles, were tempered by. Aylar, for all her merits and charms, lacks a concept of true evil. You¡¯ve seen evil, Achilles. You¡¯ve lived it. Most importantly, you¡¯ve felt it grip your soul¡ªand you¡¯ve emerged from its influence in one piece. Do you know why that¡¯s important?¡±
¡°No,¡± he whispered, despite himself, while memories played through his mind once more, and he saw the children in the fields as if it were the first time all over again.
¡°Because when the Devils come to our door, it is not honor and charity that will send them packing. There is only one thing that evil fears, Achilles.¡±
Ceruviel narrowed her eyes on him while she continued.
¡°Fear itself. Am I wrong in assuming that you long ago learned that lesson?¡±
Leonidas¡¯ gaze slid away from her and he turned back to the fire. When he did, a brief memory flitted through his mind.
The Demon knelt before him, its body scarred and burnt, its charred lips parted while sulfuric breaths wheezed from between its hellish teeth. It had been brutalized, violated, tortured, and made to scream in ways it had never conceived of. It had taken him the better part of two days, but through trial and error, Leonidas had done it.
He had broken the creature at last.
He knelt before it with that thought in mind, his once-white gloves covered in tar-black blood, and his blue eyes hardened and cold from the better part of forty-eight hours of torturous experimentation. The creature¡¯s burning irises met his, and it flinched away from his gaze.
Leonidas smiled hollowly. He remembered what the creature had first said, when he¡¯d asked it for information: ¡°Try as you will, mortal! Demons cannot feel fear!¡±
Now, and without fear, he reached out and enclosed his vise-like grip upon the demon¡¯s jaw, and lifted its head so its eyes met his. He had long ago peeled away its eyelids, after all. All it could do was stare, and Leonidas ignored the subtle part of him that screamed at what he¡¯d done to get it to this point.
¡°There we go,¡± he said softly. ¡°I think now, at least, you finally realize that you were wrong.¡±
The Demon shook at his words.
¡°Yes,¡± Leonidas said with clinical detachment. ¡°It seems the legends were wrong after all.¡±
The Demon shuddered.
¡°I think you''ve realized now, that you too have the capacity for fear.¡±
¡°Your training begins in earnest today, Achilles,¡± Ceruviel said when he finally looked back at her. ¡°I will help you tame the horrors that plague your mind, and in turn, you will help me guarantee Dawnhaven¡¯s future.¡±
Leonidas said nothing, not because he was at a loss for words, or because he was afraid, or because he was paralyzed from his memories. The truth was far simpler: Ceruviel, for all her crass and melodramatic inferences, had very good points. It was exaggerated, and he knew she was ¡®hamming it up¡¯ to sell it, but he saw the truth behind her words, and the echoes of genuine concern in her statements.
She was worried about Dawnhaven. She was worried about Aylar.
More than anything else, she was worried about the future of her people.
Leonidas turned back to the fire, and let out a low sigh. He would not say anything, not out of stubbornness, or a desire to be mysterious, or anything else so silly or foolish. There was one simple reason, in accordance with everything Ceruviel had declared, that compelled his silence.
The Duchess had hit the mark with her assertions.
There was simply nothing more to say.
B1 | Chapter 49: Eye of the Tiger
Leonidas stepped into the private sparring ring on Ceruviel¡¯s manor grounds with an assessing look.
The arena, if it could be called such, was smaller than the Adventurer Guild¡¯s own, and barely spanned a diameter of forty yards. It was enough for single or even group combat on a relatively realistic scale, but lacked the expansive size for more versatile exploration of different methods of combat. According to his mentor, though, those would not be overly helpful for his current needs.
Lining the perimeter of the arena were intricate arcane constructs, each one shaped like some sort of elegant pylon. Precious gems crowned their angled tops, creating an image akin to steel talons curving in toward the top of the arena.
Their surfaces pulsed with latent energy, and runes he could not quite grasp the nature of pulsed and shimmered on their surfaces with clear purpose. Each pylon seemed to be something akin to an anchor point, weaving together an advanced magitech operation he could not discern.
¡°It is a combat simulation system.¡± the Duchess announced from where she stood on an elevated podium, her violet eyes fixed on him with unwavering focus. She had partially abandoned her usual air of detached amusement, and her gaze was sharper. Her discourse around her intentions for him with Aylar had seemingly filled her with clear purpose. ¡°It is a fusion of high-tier magic and cutting-edge engineering¡ª¡± she continued with an idle gesture ¡°¡ªdesigned for one purpose: creating reality within a controlled space.¡±
¡°...You have a simulation device?¡± Leonidas asked with genuine surprise. ¡°That sounds incredible.¡±
¡°I am glad you can see the value.¡± Ceruviel answered with a glimmer of approval in her hard gaze. ¡°This is not some mere illusionary trick, after all, Achilles; this is a battlefield recreated with lethal accuracy. It is capable of pushing combatants to their limits while ensuring they learn from every movement, every mistake, and every defeat.¡±
¡°Have you used it yourself?¡± he asked with genuine interest, and a certain amount of honest wariness.
¡°I have and still do, regularly.¡± she answered with a nod. ¡°It is rated for my use, which is why it cost me so bloody much.¡±
¡°I take it this is a rare opportunity, then.¡±
Two of the guards standing nearby in observation laughed at his words, and Ceruviel¡¯s lips curved into a wry smile¡ªalmost as if she was amused without wanting to be.
¡°Yes, Achilles. It is a rare opportunity indeed.¡±
Leonidas glanced at the watching Dusk Guard members, and then grumbled and turned back to Ceruviel. ¡°Well, no time like the present, I suppose.¡±
¡°Well said. Your training will consist of discipline first,¡± the Duchess responded while gesturing at him in an up-down full-body motion. ¡°We need to focus on honing your mind,¡± she stated while tapping a manicured nail to her own temple, ¡°and then utilizing that discipline to hone your blade. If you are to not only win, Achilles, but do so with definitive might: you must first understand the necessity of control, and develop a properly tempered mind.¡±
Leonidas frowned at her words, and eyed the woman with cautious speculation. ¡°I assume that is not going to involve meditation?¡±
Ceruviel smirked in approval of his assessment. ¡°Oh, we are well past simple meditation, my dear Achilles. You have the raw power and the instincts of a warrior, but your mind is still too rigid in its expectations. More than that, you are trapped in a cage of your own trauma. You must learn to fight without those limitations¡ªand to move with the flow of battle, not against it.¡±
Leonidas frowned at her words, and glanced up at the pylons more warily than before. ¡°I¡¯ve fought for five years, Ceruviel. I¡¯ve adapted to more battlefields than I can count, and faced horrors that would break most people.¡± he said without false humility. It was, after all, the truth. ¡°What exactly do you think I need to learn? I can¡¯t just make the nightmares stop replaying in my head on a whim.¡±
¡°No, you cannot. They will always be a part of you.¡± she said with an accepting nod.
¡°Then what¡¯s the point of revisiting them? Because that¡¯s what you¡¯re implying.¡±
¡°Trust.¡± the Duchess answered succinctly.
Leonidas frowned at her and furrowed his brow. ¡°Trust in what?¡±
Ceruviel¡¯s fingers flicked through the air, tracing symbols that shimmered and burned with enigmatic energy, and what he detected to be Psionic power. ¡°In yourself, Achilles. In the power you wield, the experiences you hold, and in the chaos of battle itself. You are still fighting like a man at war, not with the apocalypse, but with himself. You do not yet grasp that battle is not about simply surviving¡ªit is about control, not just of yourself, but of everything. That is how you do not simply overcome, but triumph instead.¡±
Before Leonidas could do more than open his mouth to argue, the runes she had traced ignited in the air and flashed with iridescent lavender light. Energy sparked between the Duchess and the pylons, and the gems upon them¡ªAmethysts, he realized belatedly¡ªblazed with luminescence.
Within the arena, the runes ringing its edge near the pylons flared to life.
A low hum rippled through the air, and the space around him distorted. Arcane sigils illuminated the ground beneath him, interwoven with strands of liquid metal that pulsed in response to the magic like organic matter. Energy crackled in the air, offering the faint scent of burning ozone; and then, from the heart of the arena, a form took shape¡ªrising upward in a smooth Terminator-esque ascent of silvery liquid metal while coalescing into solid mass.
A shadow-clad figure emerged from the process, its form shifting and hardening into unmistakable detail.
Blackened armor, molten eyes, a blade wreathed in crimson fire.
Azrageth.
Leonidas¡¯ body went rigid.
¡°How?¡± he asked in a voice that was traitorously hoarse.
¡°You know the answer to that.¡± Ceruviel said in a ruthlessly calm tone. ¡°Now focus.¡±
Despite her words, Leonidas felt a ringing in his ears already starting.
His mind screamed at him, his pores opened with fear-driven perspiration, and his instincts flared with the same warning they had all those years ago. This wasn¡¯t an illusion¡ªthis was real.
The battle against the Demon Lord wasn¡¯t being simulated in his mind; it was happening here, in front of him.
The fusion of magic and technology had birthed a fully tangible entity, one that mimicked his greatest foe in every possible way. Every movement, every shift in the air, even the infernal heat radiating from its form¡ªit was Azrageth as he had been in the final battle, the greatest enemy Leonidas had ever faced.
His mouth felt dry.
His hands shook.
¡°Fight.¡±
Ceruviel¡¯s voice rang out sharply from a different location. She was no longer in her place on the podium, and instead had moved; pacing the edge of the arena with her eyes locked onto him like a hawk evaluating its prey. ¡°Do not let your past master you, Achilles.¡± she commanded sternly. ¡°You cannot afford hesitation.¡±
Azrageth lunged in the instant Leonidas glanced at his mentor.
He barely had time to raise his blade on remembered instinct alone before the impact sent a shuddering force through his arms.
Infernal flames flashed into existence along the Demon Lord¡¯s sword, and seared the air between them with molten heat. The power behind the strike was just as overwhelming as he remembered.
Leonidas hunched his shoulders against the cascade of recollection.
This wasn¡¯t a test of skill, he realized.
This was a test of will.
¡°You know how to survive, Achilles.¡± Ceruviel declared from where she was still slowly making her way around the edge of the arena. ¡°But do you know how to live?¡±
Leonidas gritted his teeth at her words, planting his feet and forcing himself to meet the assault head-on. Something about the situation felt different, too. More dangerous, if that were even possible.
¡°This is not the Demon Lord you fought, Achilles.¡± Ceruviel said as if in response to his unspoken instincts. ¡°This Azrageth is not bound by the moment in time limiting the one you fought before. This Azrageth will adapt. It will react. This is not merely a memory,¡± she stated sternly, ¡°it is a manifestation of the Demon Lord¡¯s true combat ability, drawn from your own subconscious fears.¡±
¡°How the fuck do I win against something I would have lost to at the height of my power?!¡± he demanded of her while instinctively making space and fending off a pair of savage sword blows. Each strike vibrated along his arms, emphasizing how weak he was compared to his time on Elatra. Miranda would have been ashamed of his showing, but it was all he could do to survive the mere presence of the reforged Demon Lord.
Steel met steel in a cacophony of violence, and Leonidas snarled against the terror that bubbled up within to devour him.
Ceruviel¡¯s voice cut through the clash of blades. ¡°You think this battle is about winning?¡± She demanded. ¡°You think this is about proving yourself against the past? You cannot still be so foolish, Achilles. You have already defeated him once. That is not the point.¡±
Leonidas pivoted while she spoke, stepping off of his left leg and barely half-deflecting, half-dodging a vicious downward slash. The sheer heat of the blade singed his shoulder, and he hissed through clenched teeth. ¡°Then what the hell is the point?¡± he shouted back.
Ceruviel¡¯s lips curled into a smile, sharp and knowing, which he could hear in her words. ¡°Control.¡±
The battle intensified.
Leonidas felt himself falling into a rhythm despite the trepidation still gnawing at his bones and the fear cinching his heart. It was not a matter of somehow overcoming it with sudden courage, it was a simple matter of dialled in realization: he could either thrive, or be brutalized by the specter of his own fears absent chance of reprisal.
Where before he had simply weathered the assault of the simulacrum and retreated, now instead he met the construct¡¯s approach with blade in hand.
A cleaving oberhau came down toward him to be met by a decisive block, and Leonidas growled at the force of the impact against his blade.
A sweeping slash was deflected and used as a chance for a daring counter, which scored a superficial blow against the reconstructed Azrageth¡¯s hellish warplate.
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That small, insignificant victory was like a dam breaking free in Leonidas¡¯ mind.
¡°Control.¡± Ceruviel repeated again in a firm, carrying tone of voice.
¡°Control.¡± Leonidas echoed, while exhaling a shaky breath and focusing not on the identity of his foe¡ªthough he could hardly forget!¡ªbut instead on the existence of the enemy before him.
An enemy, not a nightmare made manifest. Just another challenge.
Azrageth struck once more a moment later, but this time, Leonidas was not reacting in desperation.
He was leading the battle.
His movements guided the fight into his rhythm, his sword an extension of his will. The brutal blow was turned aside with a smooth parry from the edge of Leonidas¡¯ blade, and he travelled with the momentum; bringing the Demon Lord¡¯s zweihander around and forcing it toward the arena¡¯s floor¡ªbefore stepping forward and lifting his right hand to smash his sword¡¯s pommel into the construct¡¯s chin.
Breathe in. He said into his own mind. Feel the rhythm.
The construct hesitated. The simulation registered the shift.
Fear was not gone; it was simply corralled.
Panic gave way to steady focus.
Harmony overcame Chaos.
The Simulacrum roared its defiance at Leonidas with remembered hatred, imbued within its form by Ceruviel¡¯s psionic sorcery. Its blade came around, sweeping in a wide arc overhead with a trail of hellfire, and surging down to hew him in twain with speed that defied its size¡ªor crush him beneath the force of the blow.
Leonidas accepted neither.
Instinct and trained awareness bled through his mind, and he moved while throwing aside the fear that had constrained him. Azrageth¡¯s blade descended inches from his face and his body, turned sideways in his dash into the Demon Lord¡¯s guard, and Leonidas felt his skin flush and blister at the heat that washed past him. Instead of focusing on the pain, however, he looked upward.
The Demon Lord¡¯s hateful eyes glared balefully back at him.
¡°Checkmate.¡± he quipped in remembrance of his first months in Elatra.
His [Archon¡¯s Psiblade] thrust upward in his grip, and punched through the hardened chitinous boneplating protecting Azrageth¡¯s jaw from conventional attacks. The weapon, itself a thing that defied the physical limitations of other blades, sliced apart the natural protection like a hot knife through butter.
The Azrageth simulacrum froze when Leonidas¡¯ blade punctured its skull, and the liquid metal comprising its body turned abruptly opaque¡ªde-rendering the details of the Demon Lord, and returning to a non-descript humanoid mass of shining silver.
Leonidas almost felt disappointed.
Ceruviel clapped once a moment later, a sharp sound that echoed through the arena and brought his focus back to the Duchess. ¡°You have taken the first step, Achilles. Fear and trepidation are not easily conquered in a single bout, but I saw the difference in that move.¡± she announced with a faint smile. ¡°Before, you fought not without fear of death, but instead absent a desire to live. Many confuse the two, but the difference is like night and day.¡±
Leonidas lowered his sword at Ceruviel¡¯s words, and took into a bracing breath.
¡°You¡¯re right.¡± he admitted while looking at the Dusk-Lord, and then back down to his Psiblade. ¡°By the end in Elatra, I just wanted it to be over¡ªeven if it claimed my life. After returning home, the desire to live came with me, and facing Azrageth again¡ there was a primal panic I couldn¡¯t restrain. Last time we fought, I wanted to die. That inoculated me against the fear I truly felt. This time¡¡±
¡°This time you wanted to live, and so the fear took hold.¡± Ceruviel finished with tacit approval. ¡°That is natural, Achilles. No warrior truly lacks fear, they simply have the courage, purpose, conviction, and fortitude to fight despite that fear.¡±
¡°Control.¡± he said once again, while partially turning it into a mantra for later remembrance. ¡°It comes down to control, as you said.¡±
¡°Correct.¡± Ceruviel affirmed with approval. ¡°But even with that epiphany of yours, one victory does not a tempered mind make. You have taken your first steps to overcoming fear, Achilles, but you did so against a known element.¡± the Duchess stated with an ominously intense gaze. ¡°Now, let us see what you do when fear meets uncertainty.¡±
Leonidas reaffirmed his grasp on his sword and nodded once. ¡°I¡¯m ready.¡±
The pylons flared with power once again, and Ceruviel harnessed her psionic strength to weave a new foe. The next opponent formed from the liquid metal at her behest, changing from the shape of Azrageth that is still clung to¡ªa new challenge writ large, drawn from the depths of her calculating mind.
Leonidas exhaled in preparation, and sought to reassert calm preparedness.
Around him in the interim, the very arena itself darkened like it was artificially shaded, as if the magic asserting itself during the process was actively working to deepen the dread of Ceruviel¡¯s new challenge.
While the metal asserted its new shape, Leonidas was struck immediately by a realization: This was not another version of Azrageth¡ªit was something entirely new.
The entity that came from the Demon Lord¡¯s remnants was taller, clad in segmented armor that seemed to shift between states of corporeal indomitability and ephemeral mist. Its face was obscured beneath an executioner¡¯s hood, with only the eerie glow of two burning sockets giving away its presence.
A pair of long, curved blades materialized in its hands; each one humming with a resonance that vibrated the air itself.
Leonidas narrowed his eyes and glanced at his mentor, who only smirked back in response. She knew what he was thinking, he surmised: This was not an enemy he recognized. The construct was no longer testing his ability to fight the past with a twist, as he had expected¡ªinstead Ceruviel was forcing him to fight the unknown.
His new opponent didn¡¯t wait. It moved in an instant, flickering forward in a blur of steel and shadow, with a whisper like the sigh of death from beneath its reaper¡¯s hood. Leonidas barely raised his guard and leaped aside before the first blade passed through where he had been standing only seconds prior, the air around it warping from the sheer force of its swing.
It made Azrageth look downright sluggish by comparison.
Ceruviel had clearly ratcheted up the lethality.
Leonidas inhaled deeply, rolled his shoulders, and adjusted his stance. His fingers flexed around the hilt of his sword, feeling the weight of it settle naturally in his grip. This was no longer about reacting to past traumas¡ªthis was about facing something unknown and commanding the fight¡¯s momentum for himself.
He¡¯d had a taste of it with Azrageth, but the Demon Lord was a relatively known quantity; drawn from the depths of Leonidas¡¯ own fears and memories.
This new foe was something outside the scope of his experiences.
It moved unlike anything Leonidas had ever encountered, its form flickering between the tangible and the ephemeral. One moment it was solid and armored, a towering figure of physical might and brutal speed.
The next, it was mist, shifting like smoke around his blade as he struck.
Leonidas swung first in a controlled and cautious arc, aiming to carve through its center.
Instead of the dodge, parry, or counter he expected: The reaper-like entity simply dissolved into incorporeal vapor a second before impact, and his blade passed through it harmlessly.
Before he could do more than widen his eyes in surprise, a jagged force slammed into his ribs and sent him skidding across the stone floor. Leonidas barely managed to keep his footing, with his boots grinding against the reinforced ground and his body screaming in protest.
Ceruviel¡¯s voice cut through the air, stern and merciless. ¡°Do not fight it as though it follows your rules, Achilles. It does not.¡±
Leonidas spat blood onto the floor in response, and reached up to wipe his lips with a grimace of displeasure. ¡°Would¡¯ve been nice to know that before I got hit.¡±
Ceruviel chuckled, though there was barely any amusement in it. ¡°Adapt, Leonidas, or fall. It is all in your hands.¡±
Leonidas grimaced at her words and his eyes narrowed in study of the creature.
It wasn¡¯t simply phasing between states¡ªit was responding to him. When he attacked, it became untouchable. When he defended, it struck like a storm. The battle was not one of strength or skill alone, he realized after a moment.
Ceruviel was testing his ability to see beyond the obvious.
The entity lunged again, twin curved blades descending in a blur. Leonidas twisted, stepping away just in time, but the creature adjusted mid-strike, one blade solidifying while the other remained incorporeal. The solid one carved against his armor, sparks flying. The other passed through him like fog, sending a chill through his very core.
Leonidas grimaced. So that¡¯s how it works.
It was an enemy that required more than instinct¡ªit demanded intelligence.
He steadied his breathing and adjusted his grip. If my strikes triggered its phasing, then I have to fight without giving it time to respond.
¡°Let¡¯s see what you¡¯ve got.¡± he said decidedly, and burst into forward motion toward his eternally patient opponent.
Leonidas lunged, feinting high at the same time as if to strike at his enemy¡¯s upper torso and lower neck.
As expected, the entity flickered to mist.
But Leonidas was already moving, shifting his momentum mid-strike to spin low and drive his boot into the ground; kicking up a cloud of dust and debris in the process. The moment its form began to coalesce again, he struck¡ªnot the body, but the air just ahead of it.
The dust and debris were swirling around something tangible.
His [Archon¡¯s Psiblade] met resistance in a heart-stopping moment of relief.
The construct reeled when his blade caught it in the side, and caught off guard. Leonidas didn¡¯t hesitate. He pressed the attack, keeping his movements unpredictable, breaking patterns before they could form. His strikes were not aimed at where the entity was¡ªbut where it would be.
Some element of psionic prescience seemed to be working in tandem with his blows, but that was an entirely different kettle of troubles that Leonidas did not have the time to focus on at that moment.
The battle became a dance of deception.
Leonidas moved in ways that forced the construct to react improperly, catching it in its own weakness. He would feint at a leg, only to strike its torso. He would move to force a rebalancing of its stature only to manipulate that shift into an opening for an attack at its spine, or arms, or to slice into its ribs.
Every flicker of its form became an opening, and each transition a vulnerability.
Ceruviel watched from nearby, her arms crossed under her breasts as a faint smirk touched her lips. ¡°Now, Achilles, you begin to see not just with your eyes. Good.¡±
Leonidas didn¡¯t respond to her baiting words. He was too focused, and too immersed in the relentless symphony of the combat. Even with his advantages being pressed, there was a very real chance for severe damage if he faltered.
The construct was on the back foot, but it was not defeated. Leonidas¡¯ rhythm was increasing, but he knew he had to be vigilant¡ªhe knew he had to keep focused, and to stay in control. One wrong move would hand the advantage back to his foe, and that could spell disaster.
Leonidas continued to weave in chaos to his motions, harnessing his plethora of experience with different combat styles to make seemingly random transitions from one sword art to another.
As a result, the entity had begun to falter; its transitions between states growing erratic.
It had not been designed to lose¡ªit had been designed to learn.
Leonidas was denying it that chance with every iota of his ability in swordsmanship.
When a desperate double-swing came down at his shoulders, Leonidas saw his opening and capitalized on his enemy¡¯s mistake. His body shifted to dodge the left blade while he put all his strength into parrying the right away hard, and then he surged forward.
His sword carved upward in an arc that anticipated the reaper¡¯s reactive flicker, and the steel of his Psiblade met something solid. A deep, echoing crack resounded through the arena an instant later as the construct¡¯s form shattered, and the liquid metal lost cohesion to disperse back into the magic of the runes below.
Silence followed his victory, broken only by his heavy, panting breaths.
His pulse thundered in his ears, his blood roared and adrenaline surged through him, but despite it all: his hands were steady, and his mind was shockingly clear.
Ceruviel descended from the edge of the arena and stepped onto the arena floor a moment later, her heeled boots clicking against the surface. The beautiful Duchess regarded him with an expression that was neither approval nor disappointment¡ªbut something else entirely. Something he had come to expect, and in some odd way, found comfort in: Calculation.
¡°You are learning faster than I expected.¡±
The words, given forth by the Dusk-Lord of Dawnhaven, were not light in their offering. There was a powerful compliment within them, mixed with inescapable expectation, and a clear intention to see more¡ªto draw out whatever lurked within him that she sought to bring to the fore.
He was by no means fixed. His traumas, his fears, his scars¡ªmental and physical¡ªand his burdens remained; but Ceruviel had given him an important insight into a potential future where they no longer constrained him.
Leonidas rolled his neck a moment later after she spoke, and winced at the bruises forming beneath his armor. ¡°Not fast enough.¡± he groused to her good-naturedly. ¡°That thing nearly gutted me multiple times.¡±
Ceruviel¡¯s gaze held something unreadable at his words, and then her painted lips curved into a dangerous smile. ¡°Then I suppose we should move on to the next challenge, while you have such fantastic momentum.¡±
Leonidas froze at her words, narrowing his eyes at the Duchess. ¡°Next?¡±
The pylons around the arena pulsed as if in answer to his wary question.
¡°Indeed, my dear Achilles.¡± Ceruviel said to him in a voice that was edged with competitive interest. ¡°After all, if I am to make you a worthy King, I cannot stop until we find your true limit. Only then can we achieve a breakthrough.¡±
Liquid metal began to pool at her words, and this time, three distinct shapes began to rise from the arena.
Leonidas let out a resigned sigh.
¡°Alea iacta est.¡± he stated with a warrior¡¯s acceptance.
Ceruviel¡¯s only reply was an approving laugh.
B1 | Chapter 50: A Lesson Learned
Leonidas felt the weight of his exertion settle in his muscles, but he forced himself to stand tall. He had suffered far worse than this under Miranda¡¯s auspices in Elatra, real or not, and he wasn¡¯t about to buckle after two fights¡ªno matter how intense they may have been.
Ceruviel¡¯s eyes seemed to brighten when he visibly corrected the subtle slouch in his posture, and she nodded once in approval, albeit wordlessly. Simultaneously to this, the energy in the air thickened¡ªhumming with power as the constructs solidified from liquid silver outlines into fully fledged body shapes.
Leonidas immediately noted that each figure was distinct. For all that he had presumed some manner of replication or combination of Azrageth and the Reaper; these were not mindless copies of his previous opponents.
Ceruviel clearly had something different in mind.
The first figure bore a massive tower shield and a war hammer nearly as tall as Leonidas. Its armor was thick and heavily plated, with reinforced steel creating bulky planes and jutting islands of indomitability across its surface. It was, in simple terms, a juggernaut of defense and sheer physical force.
She¡¯s made a wall. He realized. This one is an enemy meant to outlast me and overpower me when I flag. It¡¯s a good choice for my skill set.
The admission was begrudging, but it was true.
Filing away the information, he turned to survey the remainder.
The second simulacrum was lithe, almost unnaturally so, and its entire body was draped in tattered cloth that blended easily with the air around it. Two long daggers, serrated at their base and lethally curved, gleamed in its hands. Each of the weapons was wreathed in a faint shimmer of energy, akin to some manner of swordforce. The construct hadn¡¯t moved, but Leonidas could tell just from its appearance that it was fast¡ªdeadly fast.
A wall to stop me and a wind to blow me over. He said while glancing between the two. Ceruviel isn¡¯t pulling her punches this time.
When his eyes turned to the third figure, he let out a quiet sigh.
The third of the trio was a robed figure with a featureless mask, reminiscent of a generic cultist from Elatra. It carried no weapons and wore no actual armor, but something about its presence set Leonidas on edge.
Magic, perhaps? He could feel the pressure emanating from it, as if the air itself bent to its will. There was a faint energy to the simulacrum, like an idling engine, as if it were simply awaiting the accelerator to start the combustion. If his assessment was correct, it would be an offensive evoker-type spellcaster.
Tank, Assassin, Mage.
Leonidas exhaled through his nose. ¡°Great. Three entirely different problems.¡±
Ceruviel smirked from nearby, and started a steady retreat toward the outer edge of the Arena. ¡°And you, Achilles, will practice to handle all of them at once. There will be times you will be both outnumbered and outmatched, and you cannot rely on allies or luck alone to save you. The only hope you will have, the only hope you do have, is raw experience.¡±
¡°Do I need to remind you that I just recovered from a mental breakdown?¡± he shot back to Ceruviel while readying himself for the fight.
¡°Do I need to remind you that the world doesn¡¯t give a shit?¡± she retorted glibly. ¡°Prepare yourself.¡±
Leonidas felt his [Cataclysm Core] revving in his solar plexus.
With abrupt suddenness, the constructs moved.
The rogue flickered out of sight, vanishing from his vision in a blink and¡ªmore alarmingly¡ªwith no means for him to track using [Psionic Focus]. That lack of ability to discern the hidden assassin¡¯s location threw him, and a moment later, Leonidas found himself on the backfoot.
The mage raised a hand, and immediately, the air crackled with energy as a warping coalescence of power heralded a building spell. He turned toward the spellcaster to intercede, realizing it would have to become his priority¡ªonly to belatedly remember the towering wall of a simulacrum.
The juggernaut wasted no time and charged, hammer raised to deliver destruction.
Leonidas had no choice but to move out of the way, and abort his attack on the mage before it could even begin. Even reacting as he did, and pushing his Dexterity and Agility to the maximum; he barely managed to roll aside as the hammer came down. The force of its thunderous impact sent tremors through the earth, and Leonidas swore under his breath.
The sheer power behind the attack was staggering.
If it had landed, it would have shattered bone¡ªor worse.
¡°You¡¯ve got to be kidd¡ª!¡±
He didn¡¯t get a moment to recover nor finish his words, for his tireless opponents offered no reprieve.
The mage finished its incantation almost in the same instant, and a bolt of pure force lanced toward him. It warped the air from where it was fired, and seemed to bleed color from the space as its eldritch mass whined through reality in an inversion of light¡ªcreating a purple-black bar across his vision.
Leonidas twisted his body, raised his left hand at the last second, and put half of his psi into a [Psikinetic Shield] to forestall the impact of the eldritch blast. A heartbeat later, even while shielded behind his barrier; the impact of the spell rocked him. It translated through the barrier of power, and seemed to rattle his very mind with the potency of its strike.
¡°What the fuck was¡ª?¡±
Something cold pressed against his throat.
Leonidas froze. The rogue, whom he had thoroughly failed to account for, had reappeared behind him when he had focused on defending against the mage¡ªand its dagger was poised against the chainmail over his throat. He hadn¡¯t even sensed it after it had exited its stealth ability.
All three simulacrums froze in position and Ceruviel¡¯s voice rang out.
¡°You are outmatched, Achilles.¡± she declared without contempt, but with stern intensity. ¡°Three enemies. Three styles. And yet, despite all your experiences, you fight them as though they are separate¡ªas though you possess the power to handle them all quickly enough to justify such arrogance. Once, you very well may have held such might.¡± the Duchess allowed simply. ¡°That is no longer the case.¡±
Leonidas gritted his teeth, swallowed back his acidic retort, and breathed to calm his racing mind. The worst part of it was that she was right. He was treating them as isolated threats when, in reality, they were working together.
He inhaled sharply, pushing everything else from his mind.
This was not three fights.
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This was one battle.
He knew better than this.
¡°Good.¡± Ceruviel said with a satisfied tone. ¡°Now¡ try again.¡±
Leonidas twisted violently the moment Ceruviel spoke, throwing his weight into the rogue to break its hold. As the dagger slid along his chainmail he spun low, using the momentum to slam his elbow into its left flank. The assassin staggered back, but its form flickered¡ªand it retreated; vanishing into shadow before he could capitalize.
The juggernaut was already mid-swing.
Leonidas activated [Chivalric Charge] on instinct upon seeing the looming warhammer, and his muscles screamed in protest as he forced himself forward. The hammer whistled past his back while he ducked away from it, and instinctively coated his blade in [Psikinetic Swordforce].
His feet shifted under him while he readjusted his stance, and Leonidas stepped forward and sideways, dodging a backward swing of the massive simulacrum¡¯s shield, before driving his sword into the construct¡¯s armored gut. The impact sent shockwaves through his arms, but his blade bit deep; scything through metal and causing the construct to stagger.
His senses flared when the mage now to his rear unleashed another spell¡ªan orb of seething arcane energy.
Leonidas reacted on instinct, summoning his [Psikinetic Shield] behind him, and the attack detonated against it not even a second later. A curse left his lips at the concussive force of the explosion, and the impact even around the barrier sent him stumbling and staggering forward, his vision momentarily swimming and ears ringing in his helmet.
It was sheer luck that allowed him to keep ahold of his [Archon¡¯s Psiblade], and pull it from the juggernaut¡¯s mass when he was sent staggering past.
Leonidas had no time to recover.
The rogue was already upon him again almost the instant the concussive force dissipated, its dagger flashing towards his helmet¡¯s visor. Leonidas caught the movement in the corner of his eye and activated [Psionic Focus], his awareness sharpening to a razor¡¯s edge.
He twisted his head at the same time, pivoting on his heel as the dagger screeched across the side of his helmet. With honed instincts and adrenaline raging in his veins, Leonidas'' sword lashed out and sliced across the rogue¡¯s thigh. The Simulacrum let out a surprisingly real gasp of surprise, and vanished a moment later.
The juggernaut roared behind him at that moment, and Leonidas¡¯ heightened awareness registered the massive construct lunging with another hammer strike.
This time, he didn¡¯t dodge.
Instead, he braced himself, forcing the energy of his [Cataclysm Core] into his swordforce. A pulse of raw destruction rippled through his weapon and its waning sheath of psionic energy, amplifying it dangerously.
Leonidas sliced upward and through the hammer.
The juggernaut lurched as Leonidas distorted its momentum, sending it staggering forward and to his left. In response to the opening, he surged forward and slammed his knee into its already wounded gut. Before it could recover, he activated [Psikinetic Blade], in his left hand with violent, pulsing energy. Once again he sent the power of his [Cataclysm Core] into the spell, and pivoted off his right foot.
The dagger of enhanced psychic energy punctured the construct¡¯s helmet.
A sound like shattering steel rang through the arena as the juggernaut¡¯s head exploded, and the construct returned to liquid metal.
But the battle was far from over.
Almost in the same second, the rogue materialized behind him with its blade aiming for the gap between his shoulder plates.
Leonidas reacted swiftly thanks to his enhanced spatial awareness, twisting his upper body as he reached back with his left hand, while forming another shimmering [Psikinetic Blade] mid-motion.
Even with his psi reserves all-but-depleted, he slashed the psychic weapon through the rogue¡¯s wrist in a brutal and literal ¡®disarming¡¯ strike, before adjusting his footing only long enough to drive the psiblade through its nose and out of its skull.
The construct spasmed with a quiet gurgle before dissolving into light.
Only the mage remained.
Leonidas turned and felt his swordforce vanish when his psi ran dry, and affixed a baleful glare on the spellcaster under his helmet. The mage lifted its hands in response, seemingly undeterred by its comrades¡¯ fates, and started conjuring something vast. The air, he noted distantly, trembled with power at the force of the casting.
Ceruviel¡¯s voice rang out amid it all, sharp and cutting. ¡°You still lean on your power like a crutch, Achilles. Have you learned nothing?¡±
Leonidas glanced toward her and grunted.
With a subtle loosening of his muscles, he let the corrosively violent energy of his [Cataclysm Core] dissipate.
The training had been about technique, not force. It was never a question that he could defeat the trio with his skills. What Ceruviel had been offering him was a chance to hone his raw combat ability¡ªto fail, and through failure, find understanding. Control. She had been talking about it from the moment he entered the Arena. Hell, she had talked about it before they¡¯d even left the mansion proper.
¡°Damn it.¡± he muttered.
The realization caused him to sigh in frustration.
He had, in essence, cheated himself.
The mage, meanwhile, unleashed its final attack while he was brooding¡ªa massive wave of crackling energy, an eruption of destructive force meant to erase him from the battlefield.
Leonidas didn¡¯t flinch, and instead fell into his instincts.
He surged forward, fuelled by a mix of self-recriminating anger and raw determination. The attack roared toward him and Leonidas churned his [Cataclysm Core], though this time, he did so not to enhance a Skill: but to empower his swordsmanship.
¡°Third Sword Art,¡± he stated in a voice that rang with committed purpose, ¡°Parting the Waterfall!¡±
Cataclysm Mana suffused his blade at the same moment as the [Archon¡¯s Psiblade] impacted the spellforce sent by the Mage.
Like a hot knife through butter, he sundered the weave holding it together.
Before the mage could react, Leonidas stepped forward and leaned into his agility; surging toward the spellcaster with intent. Then, following through in the same motion, he stepped inside the mage¡¯s guard and drove his blade through its chest.
The final construct shattered.
Silence filled the arena, save for the sound of Leonidas¡¯ heavy breathing. His body ached in protest, his muscles sore from the effort. Sweat dripped from his brow, mingling with blood.
The Duchess descended from her platform, her expression unreadable.
¡°You fought well,¡± she said neutrally. ¡°But you are still weak. Understanding the lesson too late does not mean you failed its absorption, but you still cheated yourself of its benefits.¡±
¡°I know.¡± Leonidas said wearily, while dismissing his sword. ¡°I realized it after you spoke. I should have known that it was never about whether I could win, it was about learning to survive at disadvantage. I lost sight of that despite the earlier reminder.¡±
She studied him for a moment longer, and then nodded once. ¡°Rest, Achilles. We will continue after a break.¡±
Leonidas groaned and lowered himself onto the stone floor, too exhausted to care how undignified it looked. His lungs burned, his limbs ached, and every inch of him felt like it had been wrung dry. His training had been relentless before, but this¡ªthis was different. The expectation was higher. The margin for error was gone.
Ceruviel was already walking away. ¡°Practice your meditation,¡± she said without looking back. ¡°You have an hour.¡±
¡°You didn¡¯t even show me how!¡±
¡°Trial and error, Achilles.¡± the Duchess called back mercilessly. ¡°I will simply beat any incorrect habits out of you later. Remember: one hour!¡±
Leonidas sighed at her words, and fell back against the stones to steady his breathing.
The guards along the perimeter remained silent for a long moment. Then, after Ceruviel was fully out of earshot, one of them spoke. ¡°{An hour? The Dusk-Lord must be feeling generous.}¡±
Another, older elf¡ªone who had clearly served the Duchess for decades¡ªcrossed his arms. ¡°{She¡¯s never taken a student before, and he¡¯s not even one of us. This isn¡¯t training. It¡¯s a test.}¡±
A third, watching Leonidas struggle to sit up, exhaled through his nose and spoke with an amused rumble. ¡°{He¡¯s still breathing. That counts for something.}¡±
Leonidas sighed in annoyance from where he lay. ¡°{You all talk too much.}¡±
The first guard smirked. ¡°{And you complain too much.}¡±
The older elf inclined his head slightly, and spoke in a more direct and pointed tone. ¡°{You are the Dusk-Lord¡¯s chosen heir, Terran. That carries expectations. None of us will pretend otherwise.}¡±
Leonidas didn¡¯t bother responding. He just let himself breathe, staring up at the sky as heat bore down on him.
One hour wasn¡¯t much, but it was enough.
His eyes squeezed shut momentarily, and then forced himself to a sitting position.
Ceruviel had given him a chance to learn on his own, to show his initiative.
He would take it.
B1 | Chapter 51: A Moment of Meditation
The sun had shifted in the sky above by the time Leonidas finally found his meditative equilibrium. What had started as a forced attempt at meditation had settled into something deeper, more intuitive, and far more instinctive. Time melted from a consideration to an irrelevant metric, and he found himself immersed in the sensation of stillness. He didn¡¯t need to count the minutes to know he had long since surpassed the one hour Ceruviel had given him.
But she hadn¡¯t stopped him.
Truthfully, that wasn¡¯t a surprise.
The Duchess, he had come to realize, did nothing without intention. She had given him an hour, but she had not stated that she would stop him at the end of the hour. With his eyes closed and his focus turned inward, it was only a small part of his mind that paid attention to the fact he was technically in breach of the allotment Ceruviel had granted him.
Not that it mattered.
She¡¯d stop him if she cared enough.
Leonidas¡¯ focus was instead fixed upon the bubbling and boiling energy of the [Cataclysm Core] within him, and the mana it even then sought to unleash through his body. Something he noticed as well, almost as a side note, was that the original ¡®blue¡¯ energy of unaspected mana, or pure mana, was entirely gone.
His core had completely subsumed it, leaving only the cataclysm power in its stead. Had he not already somewhat expected that to happen, it might have forestalled his attempt. Instead, he simply rolled his shoulders in unconscious preparation and accepted what was. After all, his [Radiance Core] had done the same eventually on Elatra¡ªso he was hardly surprised.
Ceruviel had instructed him that, in lieu of sleep, he would learn to cycle Psi and Mana to create a meditative state of restfulness which allowed him to recover energy¡ªphysically, mentally, and magically¡ªwithout the need for sleep.
The self-evident part of this, of course, was that he could do so while [Psionic Focus] was passively active. It was a detail Ceruviel had not explicitly mentioned, but only a fool wouldn¡¯t key into it. What manner of idiot wouldn¡¯t want a permanent state of heightened awareness in a world out to kill the unwary?
So first, I need to try to cycle my energy.
The first and most glaring issue was that cycling his Core¡¯s mana was, as he had learned already, highly painful and highly destructive. The power of his [Cataclysm Core] did not simply enhance or heighten his mana capacity, it actively eroded his physiology and built it back up in the same breath. It was akin to the process of cyclical forest fires, but dialed down to a microcosm within his body.
His mana ¡®burned¡¯ away the impurities and blockages in his body.
It then subsequently ¡®regrew¡¯ his anatomy instantaneously with improved structure. The process was not quite that literal, but it was the most reasonable explanation for how it felt that he could rationalize within his own mind, and given the native affiliation of his Core to natural disasters like wildfires¡ªwell, it just made sense.
With the knowledge in mind, Leonidas braced himself for the inevitable deluge of pain to come and took another steady breath in and out. His mental focus shifted solely to his Core, and he reached down to wrestle with the chaotic mana within it. It was, as always, like trying to wrestle down a literal force of nature within himself¡ªbut at this point, Leonidas had practice. Combined with his [Mana Sage] title and native understanding of battle meditation, the process was at least relatively achievable in a short span of time.
The hardest part had been quieting his mind enough to find the focus to start in the first place.
Channelling his mana through its pathways elicited another involuntary hiss of pain from him when he started, and he felt the molten heat, arctic cold, and eviscerating sharpness of his power scourging his mana channels once more¡ªbut Leonidas forced himself to pay no heed. Instead, he started to consider how he was meant to circulate his power.
Ceruviel had not said he needed to flood himself, after all; she had said he needed to circulate, and that phraseology had not been made idly. Nothing the Duchess ever said was lacking in calculation. If she used the phrase, then she meant to use it¡ªand that was not just a statement, it was an instruction and hint all its own. Leonidas breathed again and started to pull up a mental awareness of his mana channels.
They ran across his entire body, but they were not like veins or blood vessels really; they were more like arteries, with limited amounts in each limb and attached to each organ. They spread out from his core across his entire body, but what they didn¡¯t do was loop around. Mana channels had a startpoint¡ªthat being his Core¡ªand an endpoint, that being whatever part of the body they were designed to ultimately provide energy to.
This energy pooled in ¡®chambers¡¯ within his anatomy, like the soles of his feet, his pectorals, his abdomen, the palms of his hands, his shoulders, his back, his biceps, and each organ, et cetera¡ªbut it ultimately had a linear progress. How, then, did he circulate it? The logical step would be to inverse the flow mid-motion, but that would also be exceedingly difficult, and wholly painful. Circulation implied constant motion, and reversal was a stop-start, not a consistent movement.
Perhaps he was overthinking it, but somehow it felt correct.
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He had done something similar on Elatra with his [Radiance Core], but that had been more along the lines of passive flow¡ªlike imitating his blood¡ªthan it had been true and purposeful circulation. He had simply let his Light Mana move, and it had done what it had needed to do. He could not be so liberal with his Cataclysm Mana.
So what about the chambers, then?
When water did a barrier, it did not cease flowing when sourced by a river or an ocean, it simply crashed against it and created waves. Eventually, it overflowed past the barrier, over the barrier, or through the barrier. His particular mana was no exception: it wanted to move, to flow, to sear, to rush. Constraining it was against its nature. He had to let it surge, but if that was the case, he ran into a new complication: oversaturation.
If he let his mana pile up too much in one of his ¡®chambers¡¯, he risked moderate or even severe damage to both the chamber and the physical anatomy the mana channel that fed it was attached to. So, what was the solution? He had to create some sort of redirection or tidal pushback. More than that, he needed to ensure that the circulation was consistent¡ªuninterrupted, unimpeded, and unbroken.
First Leonidas guided the mana he already had flowing toward the left side of his body, allowing it to traverse enough to fill his left arm. With his limb as a focus, he honed in on the chamber of his palm; one of those he was most used to making work for him. In the battle against Synthra, he had used that chamber to evoke the manner out of himself¡ªand used its reaction with her own energy to detonate her shield.
This time, he was trying to keep it internalized. Instead of evocation, he wanted to simply let it flow, and then return.
The second step he took was to peel back swathes of the mana he¡¯d released and return it to his solar plexus to resume its chaotic spiral, twist, dance, and flow within the space occupied by his [Cataclysm Core]. He needed a specific amount of mana for what he was attempting, not a deluge.
At least, not for now.
When the energy seared its way down his arm and into the chamber of his palm, Leonidas focused carefully. He let the mana build, pushing it along the chamber¡¯s interior. As more flowed in he spread it out, occupying as much space as was plausible while allowing for unimpeded movement. Mentally, it sloshed and raged; burned and shook; crackled and detonated¡ªa constant myriad of cataclysmic impersonations happening at once.
Mana was not a liquid in the same way as people thought: it was an energy, formless and potent, and flowed as a gas, a liquid, a solid, and something else entirely¡ªall at the same time. He was just thankful that his time on Elatra, whether real or not, had allowed him to adjust to mana¡¯s nature enough to not be shocked by its illogical and at-times shocking state of existence.
There it is. He thought to himself with quiet satisfaction.
The mana had all but filled the chamber¡ªwhich was itself shockingly dense and spacious for what one might think¡ªand yet remained able to flow and surge freely within. That was, of course, the signal for the hardest part of the process.
¡°Control,¡± he muttered to himself bracingly whilst he felt perspiration on his forehead from both pain and focus, ¡°maintain control.¡±
The longer the cataclysm mana stayed in his hand, the more potent its sensations: feelings of being burnt, frozen, flayed, shattered, cracked, and more rippled through him from the volatility of the mana in escalating severity, and it took all of Leonidas¡¯ focus not to lose himself and abandon the experiment due to the pain. Part of him wondered if his mana would ever not hurt him, but that was a consideration he could worry about another time.
¡°Channels are clear¡¡± he muttered to himself while ensuring there was no interceding flow ¡°...so begin the inversion.¡±
The words, as they often had in Elatra, helped to stabilize his thought processes and allowed him to more smoothly execute his vision. The mana in the chamber of his hand was seized by his will, and Leonidas pulled, pushed, and guided it in a paradoxical combination of cajolement that saw the energy coil within his palm and then surge back up along his mana channels.
A hiss of pain followed again, this time from the force required to not simply recall the mana¡ªwhich was in fact relatively simple¡ªbut to invert its flow against the normal process of his channels. It was like making water flow upstream against the natural current, with nothing but one¡¯s own willpower. There was no countermanding force actively impeding him, but mana channels had their own intrinsic ¡®direction¡¯ as many things did¡ªlike their own version of gravity, wherein it directed the flow of mana.
To go against that was, as one would imagine, supremely disconcerting.
Slowly however, and with thankfully manageable discomfort, he managed it.
Leonidas felt the cataclysm mana flowing inverted along his channels, back toward his core, and through his body. He felt the difference when he did, as well¡ªthe subtle change from divesting energy to multiplying it. It was difficult to explain, but the lack of expression of power created a feedback loop of invigoration. It was a subtle thing of course, not something particularly overt or blatant¡ªbut it created a sense of something loosely akin to cyclical recharging.
Pins and needles erupted along his arm, but they weren¡¯t unpleasant.
It was roughly akin to the subtle feeling of an electrical current.
The mana flow surged up his channels with steady, albeit coerced progress and Leonidas let out a sigh of relief when it flowed into his core without issue. The moment the last eddies of energy returned to the cradle of its origin within his solar plexus, he mentally prepared himself for what came next.
He had achieved the first steps of cycling as Ceruviel had presumably hinted at, but he had not completed cycling itself. Without his extensive experience as the Hero of Elatra, he very well might have ended up severely damaging the mana chamber in his hand as well.
Definitely not something a rookie should attempt.
Despite the risk, however, there was also a clear sense of excitement. He had achieved something determinedly difficult, and did so on his first attempt¡ªthat was worth celebration, as far as he was concerned.
Now comes the second step.
Leonidas took another steadying breath and, choosing momentum over caution, opted to step away from the idea of limiting himself to a single achievement. His battle meditation combined with his instinctive understanding of mana was working wonders, and there was no reason to quit before he hit a true barrier. The world would not wait for him to progress at a leisurely pace, and he had no option but to take his journey at a full sprint if he really wanted to achieve his goals.
¡°The world belongs to the brave.¡± he muttered to himself, and subconsciously breathed out to expand his chest for what came next.
B1 | Chapter 52: Two Choices, One Answer
Leonidas delved back into his core and sought, instead of his mana, the intangible ribbons of ¡®void purple¡¯ coruscating Psi drifting amid the chaotic and tempestuous maelstrom of his [Cataclysm Core]. With Will and Intent, he drew upon those now-familiar currents of energy and pulled them into his control. As before, a feeling like static electricity rippled through his body, and he felt the power of his Affinity answering his call.
¡°Now make them coexist,¡± he murmured.
Unlike his cataclysmic mana, Psi didn¡¯t rage¡ªit flowed. That difference sparked an idea. Ceruviel had said to circulate both, and the largest amount of trepidation he felt was the idea of drawing the destabilizing power of his core into his mind and his brain¡¯s chamber.
But what if it was filtered?
What if he used his Psi to insulate his Mana like an electrical current?
Only one way to find out.
Excitement warred with subtle, but mounting exhaustion and Leonidas wove his psi into something akin to a cylinder of Intent. Each strand of the energy was knitted together, creating a firmly tied but not wholly enclosed tube of power. Like a woven blanket, it still had small gaps; enough for his mana to leak out and work its literal magic, but not enough to overwhelm or savage him in the way he feared.
At least, that was the hope.
With that done, he created more; enough for each of the mana channels he would traverse leading up to his brain.
Another stabilizing breath was taken, and Leonidas proceeded to isolate the tubes of psi just outside of his core. The instant he unshackled the energy from his Core, the strain multiplied. His psi constructs groaned under the pressure, like steel beams bracing against an earthquake.
Instead of being a 1 to 1.1 difference in effort, it felt like it was a jump from a 1 to a 2. The analogy helped him visualize it, at least, and gave him the chance to reaffirm and assert his Will before proceeding. Attempting to maintain the structure after adding the cataclysm mana and then extricating it may have resulted in disaster, and he was glad he hadn¡¯t done so.
¡°Containing the mana will be impossible¡¡± he muttered in realization. ¡°It¡¯s too volatile, but maybe what I need isn¡¯t containment, it¡¯s like reactor shielding¡¡±
Almost as soon as he vocalized it, he realized what he wanted to do, and acted.
The psionic cylinders expanded with his will, spreading out and pressing against the internal structure of his chosen mana channels. Instead of creating containers, he instead created a kind of psionic shield for his channels¡ªprotecting them from the immediate impact of his unstable mana, but with small ¡®breathable¡¯ perforations in the shield to allow the energy to directly interface with the ¡®walls¡¯ of the mana channels still.
It was like diluting alcohol, in essence.
Finally, he generated singular ¡®tubes¡¯ of psionic power shaped not unlike turbines within his channels, and settled them just shy of the full length of each shielded section. Cataclysm mana was like a tidal force, and for all that it crackled, raged, and acted like unfettered chaos¡ªit was still an energy he could control. If he could use the ¡®turbines¡¯ of psionic power to corral the mana and keep it from escaping the psionic shielding, it would allow for much finer control.
Sweat dripped from his forehead, and he could feel the subtle drain on his psi, but he paid it no heed.
¡°Okay, now for the test.¡±
Leonidas took another stabilizing breath and then, with a final exhale of preparation, he half-unleashed, half-dragged his mana into his channels. At the same time, he ¡®spun¡¯ the psionic energy layering his channels one way, and spun the ¡®turbines the other. The result was a shock of power rushing into the psionic constructs and then abruptly being trapped by the opposing forces of rotation.
¡°Fuck me!¡±
The pain was near-instantaneous, but so too was a sudden and unexpected surge of invigoration. The mana interacted with the psi like a supercharger, and the feedback loop he¡¯d only experienced from inverting his mana flow suddenly hit him like an injection of adrenaline. The right side of his body, within the channels he¡¯d chosen, felt like someone had thrown the light of the sun into a focused beam against solar panels¡ªand he felt the revitalization instantly.
It just sucked that it hurt so damned much.
¡°Move, damn it, move!¡± he growled under his breath while his battle meditation kicked into overdrive. A mix of excitement, fear, and reckless ambition combined with his [Noble¡¯s Resolve] and Leonidas did the equivalent of slamming his foot down on the accelerator. The psionic energy¡¯s forward elements twisted upwards along his channels and moved, and the cataclysm mana moved with it¡ªand Leonidas felt a surge of energy race through him while it did.
The channels he¡¯d selected ran directly up toward his brain, through his torso and neck, and he gasped at the power that nullified his latent enervation. Where before he was deprived of energy from the day¡¯s exertions, suddenly he felt small injections of it surging across his body. Ceruviel had explained cycling like a gradual and steady process, and maybe it was¡ªbut she had not accounted for his core.
It was unlikely she had any idea what the interaction would entail.
His breath hitched. A surge of raw power shot through his nerves like wildfire, igniting every fiber of his being. His lips parted in shock at the sheer magnitude of the sensation he was experiencing. It was not that he was suddenly absent fatigue, but it was an actual and tangible level of restoration that even during his most potent levels of power in Elatra he¡¯d never been able to experience.
Willpower and Intent warred against his momentary distraction and Leonidas forced himself to be grounded¡ªlest his shock and excitement ruin his work, and cause damage to his body as a consequence.
The cycling mana and psi raced toward his mind, and he mentally prepared himself for what he needed to do: predict the arrival of the cataclysm mana, layer and shield his brain¡¯s chamber, and then push the shielding out toward his channels for the journey back down to his core on the left side of his body.
The second the combined energy hit his chamber, his breath left his lungs.
The fugue of exhaustion that had subtly gripped his mind in the aftermath of his emotional, mental, and physical stressors across the past day and a half seemed to diminish instantly. Clarity returned with a celerity that was astounding, and he found himself suddenly able to focus even more intently on what he was doing.
Ironically, the risk he¡¯d taken paid surprising dividends in ensuring it became less of a risk.
He could already see the problems: the erosion of his psi from the destructive power of his mana, the instability of the model, the steady destabilization of the ¡®turbine¡¯ system and the way it was both boosted and made less controllable by the essence of his cataclysm mana, and the inevitable failure of the system that would happen as a result.
He would need to channel constant psi not just into the form of constructs, but within the cataclysm rush itself. It would require greater Willpower and a more intricate understanding of his powers before he could truly begin cycling the way Ceruviel wanted, but in short sessions, he would manage.
It would definitely allow him to mitigate the need for sleep, but not permanently. No matter what his stubborn mentor said, he would need to rest at least once or twice a week properly until he gained more levels and was able to better reinforce both his Willpower and his control over his own mana.
More than that, he would need time for his body¡¯s mana channels to become inoculated against the destructive power of his core. The sudden clarity allowed him to realize the problem: his core was not trying to destroy him, not really. The truth was that he simply had too much power and his body was not able to handle it. He was doing the equivalent of trying to fill acid into a clay mug, with his body as the container.
What he needed was to do the anatomical equivalent of lining his channels with titanium, nickel, or diamond, to prevent the erosion caused by his own power. At least, that was what his admittedly limited understanding of chemistry translated it as.
Leonidas gritted his teeth and surged psi ahead of his mana into the channels leading from his brain¡¯s chamber back toward his core, along the left side of his body. The passage of his mana-psi combination forced a mix of sharp inhale and shuddering exhale as it roared through his channels, and he felt the tendons of his neck stand at attention.
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For several precious seconds, even with his suddenly heightened awareness, he almost thought the entire delicate balance would unravel entirely¡ªright up until the point that the paired energies crashed back into his core, and he gasped in relief. He¡¯d done it! He¡¯d actually done it! It hadn¡¯t been easy, and it felt like he¡¯d been eroding himself the entire time, but he¡¯d actually managed to¡ª
¡°{I believe I said an hour.}¡±
The partially amused, partially annoyed voice of his mentor cut through his internal celebration, and Leonidas opened his eyes to see Ceruviel standing in front of him with her arms folded, and her eyebrows raised. Behind her, the Duskguard on watch were doing a very poor job of hiding their subtle laughter.
Leonidas scowled at them past Ceruviel¡¯s figure.
Traitors.
¡°{I know, but I assumed you would simply interrupt me if you deemed it necessary.}¡± he responded instead to the Duchess directly, mimicking her use of Haelfennyr.
Ceruviel smirked at his words, and Leonidas let himself subtly relax when she did. At least she was not going to kick him for the breach, which was a small mercy¡ªnot that he could have stopped her if he¡¯d wanted to. The woman outclassed even his ludicrous abilities by several orders of magnitude.
¡°{An apt assessment, Squire.}¡± she commended simply, while keeping her gaze fixed on his. ¡°{Arrogant, but apt. I would indeed have interrupted you if I saw fit.}¡±
¡°{Then I assume your lack of such served a purpose.}¡±
¡°{Of course,}¡± she responded glibly. ¡°{I wasn¡¯t about to stop you when you were finally doing something right for the first time since coming here.}¡±
Leonidas winced at her words and set his hands on his knees with a sigh. ¡°{Cycling is far more difficult than I thought.}¡± he said instead of addressing her quip. ¡°{But I can definitely see the advantages. Sadly however, I do not believe I will be able to use it as you wished¡ªat least, not in the immediate future. I am yet too weak to withstand the tumultuous forces of my core.}¡±
¡°{I suspected such may be the case.}¡± Ceruviel responded with a simple nod. ¡°{Without sufficient experience, however, it would only have led to you either recklessly defying me if I had forbidden it, or killed your motivation to try in the first place. Permitting you to experiment was the right choice.}¡±
¡°{It disturbs me how easily you read me given the short amount of time we have known one another, Ceruviel.}¡±
The elven Archon smirked at him again, and reached up to indicatively tap her temple with a lacquered nail; a habit he noticed she enjoyed indulging in.
¡°{You still need to learn to shield your mind, Achilles. Until then, you are like an open book to me, even using only my passive capabilities.}¡±
Leonidas grunted at her words and set his hands to the arena floor to push himself up, instead of remaining seated on the ground. Not only did it feel mildly disrespectful despite his grievances with his mentor, but his aborted experiment with cycling had restored a great deal of his wakefulness. He wanted to do something.
¡°{Are we to resume training?}¡± he asked still in Haelfennyr, which¡ªthanks to his time in Elatra¡ªalmost felt more familiar to him than English.
¡°{No, not as of yet.}¡± Ceruviel said with a shake of her head. ¡°{First, you have a decision to make.}¡±
Leonidas arched his eyebrows, but nodded for her to continue.
¡°{You have likely already noticed that combat in this arena does not afford you System experience.}¡± Ceruviel began while adopting a more formal tone, though her only change in stance was to settle her right hand on her hip and cock it to shift her weight. Her left, meanwhile, gestured indicatively around them. ¡°{This place is not a farm, as we call them, for experience. It is truly just a training arena. You can gain insights and lessons here that help your development, but nothing here will actually further you in the grand calculus of power within the System.}¡±
That aligned directly with what Leonidas had already presumed, and he nodded at her in understanding. It hadn¡¯t been a conscious thought, necessarily, but he had clocked the lack of experience gained after fighting both the Azrageth and Reaper constructs, and the trio that followed had been much the same.
¡°{To that end, you have two choices available to you, if you are to reach your first Temper and advance your [Cataclysm Core] from Formation to Compression before you go hunting in the wilds with Princess Aylar.}¡±
¡°{I assume not reaching that milestone is not an option?}¡± he asked half-rhetorically.
¡°{It is not.}¡± Ceruviel confirmed with a tone that banished any lingering doubt. ¡°{I gave her my word, Achilles, and I do not renege on my promises.}¡± the Dusk-Lord stated with firm commitment. ¡°{The only question is which path you will walk for that promise to be fulfilled.}¡±
¡°{What are my options?}¡± he asked simply.
¡°{You have two,}¡± Ceruviel began while holding up her left forefinger. ¡°{Your first choice is to spend the remainder of this week under my stringent tuition. I will, as stated, adhere to the schedule we discussed in the carriage. Through such, I will hone you as best I can outside the scope of the System¡¯s active advancement, and refine your foundations to enable you to be ready for what is to come.}¡±
Leonidas raised his eyebrows and settled his hands on his hips, while his eyes searched the far older woman¡¯s thoughtfully. ¡°{I take it that my System advancement will not be easy, then.}¡±
Ceruviel simply smirked at him. ¡°{At the end of the week, we will enroll you for the headline games in the Arena¡ªand you will gain every bit of experience you need through a single weekend of lethal contest, or you will die. Every single match will push you to your limits, and if you succeed, your growth will be explosive. If you fail, however, you will die.}¡±
Leonidas let out a quiet sigh at her words, but was unsurprised. Explosive brutality seemed exactly in line with Ceruviel¡¯s perspective on teaching, and he couldn¡¯t honestly say he was all that surprised. It wasn¡¯t as if the prospect of death really bothered him, not for a lack of desire to live¡ªat least, not anymore¡ªbut because he had already realized even with his carried trauma that life in post-incursion Earth would be ¡®kill or be killed¡¯.
It was just the way of the world, now. Much as it had been on Elatra.
¡°{Very well, and the second option?}¡± he asked for the sake of understanding.
¡°{We truncate your direct lessons and we enroll you in less lethal, but equally helpful arena fights. Instead of facing the challenge of the headline matches, you will engage in still-lethal but far safer contests throughout the week, during the quieter period.}¡± Ceruviel explained with an idle gesture. ¡°{By the weekend, you will either already be at your First Temper and ready for your Compression advancement, or close enough that a few preliminary fights prior to the headlines will nudge you over.}¡±
Leonidas raised his eyebrows at that option, and then fell into a moment of contemplative silence. The safety of the second option was tempting, if only because it would mean something altogether more familiar, and ultimately less stressful. He thrived in contest, true enough, but he could also admit that he found some measure of fatalistic exhilaration in true life and death contests.
If he didn¡¯t enjoy them on some level, he¡¯d never have survived against the Hive Tyrant.
¡°{And which would you recommend?}¡± he asked Ceruviel instead of answering immediately.
In response, the silver-haired Haelfenn tilted her head with an unreadable expression. ¡°{We both already know which one you will choose, Achilles, but the choice must still be made. For all your pretense at being the good Squire, I am not so foolish as to try to truly erode your agency. A Sovereign walks their own path¡ªI can only work to ensure you have the strength, knowledge, and capability to not be felled by your own Ambition before you are ready to seize it.}¡±
Leonidas blinked in momentary surprise at her words, and then shook his head.
He shouldn¡¯t have been surprised. She knew him well enough by that point and, hell, he knew himself. He¡¯d already made his choice the moment he¡¯d given it any real thought. The first option entailed the most danger, pain, and risk¡ªand it did nothing to offer him advantages going into the weekend fights. It offered him the stronger foundation, but it also predicated itself on the much larger gamble: surviving fights he likely was technically suicidally ill-prepared for.
In many ways however, the second option was worse, because it offered a different kind of danger: complacency. The world was a cruel and savage place, following the System¡¯s Incursion. It was a new Earth, where the strong of mind, body, and will survived¡ªand the complacent and weak were doomed to either live by the auspices of the strong, or perish under the weight of others¡¯ ambitions and the predations of the mana-mutated world itself.
The options weren¡¯t really options, he knew that, and so did Ceruviel.
But she still had to give him the choice, because it was important that he understood what it represented as well.
She really was a good teacher, he had to admit.
¡°{The first path.}¡± Leonidas¡¯ voice was steady, without doubt. ¡°{I walk forward, not sideways. I do appreciate the chance to learn another lesson, but this one was learned long ago. Whether or not Elatra was real, the lessons it imparted remain intrinsic to who I am now. Complacency and ease have not been options for me since I transmigrated¡ªI doubt that is likely to change with my return.}¡±
¡°{Then you truly are the man I hoped you were.}¡± Ceruviel said with tacit approval. ¡°{Very good. Go inside and have a bath, and when you are done, we will begin your training in earnest. Your mastery of the blade is exceptional, even I can admit that¡ªbut your talent with mana, while instinctive and honed, requires considerable work. Even with the volatility of your energy, there are tricks and management factors you could play with that have escaped your notice. Those, and the deeper intricacies of Psi, must be explored and understood if you are to survive the Arena.}¡±
¡°{And the lessons in statecraft, history, and otherwise?}¡± he enquired while dusting himself off habitually and turning to follow her when she started already walking toward the mansion proper.
¡°{They will proceed as planned. You will need considerable help there, if you are to impress the princess. You have already committed yourself to this path, Achilles, so there is no point pretending otherwise. Unless you wish to brave this new and daunting world absent the miraculous opportunity you have found here, your path only ends one way now: with Aylar in your bed, and a crown on each of your heads.}¡±
Leonidas sighed and felt his cheeks fill with heat again.
¡°{You really need to stop putting that image in my mind.}¡± he groused.
Ceruviel smirked at him sidelong as they walked.
¡°{Oh, I cannot wait until you learn about the royal harem.}¡±
To that, Leonidas only had a single response.
¡°{The royal fucking what now?}¡±
Much to his chagrin, Ceruviel just laughed.
B1 | Chapter 53: Royal Council
Aylar Taleria Lux Fortuna Eldormer, Princess Royal of Dawnhaven, sat in her audience chamber with a schooled expression of dignified calm, buoyed in no small part by her [Heroine¡¯s Will] and the passive benefits of her [Princess Royal] title. Were it not for the combination of both, the stress, anxiety, and tension of the last half-week¡ªas Terrans reckoned it¡ªwould have had her as a dishevelled mess.
Instead she sat with all the regal grace her aides, advisors, and allies expected of her. The dress she wore, a silver gown inlaid with sparkling shards of diamond and embroidered with manastone-filigreed runes, hugged her tightly enough to almost restrict her breathing¡ªthanks in no small part to the enthusiasm of her maids in how they had tightened her bodice.
The words of her council danced around and within her mind while she appraised them, her blue eyes moving from one face to another as they voiced their opinions¡ªand disagreed on everything under the sun. From taxation to tariffs, from military spending to defensive investment, from economic downturn to expected highs, and even the less certain and more fantastical elements of things.
Her immediate council of advisors consisted of ten people; four nobles, two merchants, three adventurers, and the captain of her personal guard. Between them all were over a dozen more aides, scribes, and otherwise stationed around the room or sitting nearby¡ªbut the main body of her council was thus. She had to keep her circle small to avoid leaks, but even a small circle for a future Queen was large by any other standard.
The chaos of the table, however, could sometimes be quite a spectacle, however, when certain anomalies or odd happenings were reported and debated on.
Anomalies, for example, like one Leonidas Achilles, and the irascible Duchess that had taken him as her Squire.
That particular bit of information she was glad to have received from Ceruviel herself days prior. Had she not, then she might have been in just as much of an obsession spiral as the rest of her supposedly mature and experienced aides, advisors, and allies. The fact that the Dusk-Lord had not only taken a Squire for the first time in memory, but that said Squire was a Terran had set Dawnhaven¡¯s social fabric aflame.
With how relatively peaceful things had been for the last year or more, it was no surprise: scandal was the preferred meal of the aristocracy and citizenry both¡ªand something involved Duchess Latherian was about as high profile as it came, short of a royal affair.
The matter had become an unwanted distraction¡ªa single Terran somehow fracturing years of careful narratives. And Ceruviel, as always, said nothing. Even Duke Uriel Aventus, the Dawn-Lord, had been forced to openly admit he knew nothing about the situation just to quell the not-so-subtle entreaties from various slighted noble families¡ªall of whom demanded an explanation as to why a Terran had been chosen over their own precious offspring.
Then, of course, the rumors from the Adventurers¡¯ Guild trial and the news about the Arena had properly spread, and the city¡¯s rumor mill had ignited like an unchecked conflagration. Level 8, Untempered, and somehow able to defeat a near-second tier Monster and become a finalist in the Elite Slayer Trial?
It had caused an uproar, and not simply because of the circumstances: because it created a dangerous and unknown factor that only served to rekindle the embers of a tension Aylar, Braedon, and everyone else had¡ªwillingly or begrudgingly¡ªworked together to smother: the treatment of Terrans within Dawnhaven.
It had been a passively understood constant that Haelfenn were simply superior to Terrans in both capability and training, and while Aylar was not particularly fond of that rhetoric, it had been factually true insofar as any evidence could offer.
That was until the arrival of Leonidas Achilles, and the subsequent upending of almost five years of ironclad propaganda. The man was
Aylar exhaled slowly while shifting in her seat. The bodice was still too tight, but she made no move to adjust it.
A Queen does not fidget.
Aylar had worked tirelessly to reshape herself in the image of a Queen¡ªto use every weapon at her disposal. Beauty. Poise. Strength.
Leonidas Achilles, in contrast, had simply ignored the rules and broken them by accident. It was a luxury he was afforded, perhaps without him ever being aware of it, by merit of his sex. It was a luxury, in contrast, that Aylar was thoroughly denied.
The passive lack of equity reminded her of a lesson from long ago.
¡°{A female commands not just with her presence, but with her beauty, Aylar.}¡±
She had looked at her mother, the Swordmaiden Heroine-Queen of Altera, with a dubious expression at her words¡ªall fifteen years of her bullheaded attitude showing on her face. ¡°{I have no desire to be a piece of meat for old Haelfenn to salivate over, mother.}¡±
The Heroine-Queen had let out a rich and knowing laugh, her golden hair catching the morning sunlight while she reached for Aylar¡¯s chin. Her fingers, calloused from years of wielding a blade, were a stark contradiction to the softness of her smile. ¡°{Sweet girl,}¡± she murmured, amusement and patience woven into her tone, ¡°{it is not about them. It is about you. If you are to rule, you must understand that your beauty is a weapon¡ªand wield it to your advantage.}¡±
¡°{You walk around in armor all the time.}¡± Aylar had objected stubbornly.
¡°{I do.}¡± her mother had conceded with a twinkle of mirth. ¡°{And yet, it was not armor that won the heart of your father, or the loyalty of the nation. My battlefield deeds played a part, but it was my beauty combined with my feats that enchanted them. No matter how capable you are, my darling; nobody wants a boor for a Princess¡ªand nobody wants a mannish troll for a Queen.}¡±
¡°{You sound like the geezers that insist a female cannot rule alone, mother.}¡± Aylar had said in annoyance.
¡°{We do not live in a society where the idle fancies of wishful thinking control reality, my beloved Aylar. When your time comes, you will understand: all of us, no matter our power or birth, are subject to the eclectic whims of the masses¡ªincluding the aristocracy that pretends to stand apart. If those masses want a Queen, then you must give them a Queen.}¡±
¡°{But why do I have to make myself look like a dolled up fop?}¡±
¡°{Because no matter how powerful you are, my daughter; steel and blades are the equipment of a male, in the eyes of this nation, and if you try to compete with males while playing at their game¡ªyou will lose.}¡±
¡°{Then how do I win?}¡± she asked with frustration.
¡°{Make beauty your armor, make charm your weapon. Play by our rules. That is how you not only stop their game from starting¡ªyou beat them before the first sword is drawn.}¡±
Aylar blinked at her words, and her mother leaned in; her smile now edged with the ferocity that had made her a legend.
¡°{A Queen does not fight on others¡¯ terms, Aylar. She makes the battlefield her own.}¡±
¡°{...no idea what the Dusk-Lord is thinking.}¡±
The voice of Marquis Yvaris, one of her four noble councilors, drew Aylar back to the present and she directed her gaze toward him at the tail end of his words. Opposite him, Viscountess Haeyr seemed a mix between amused and perturbed.
¡°{Attempting to guess the mind of Ceruviel Latherian is like trying to gauge the whims of a Dragon. The simple truth is that the Duchess doesn¡¯t care, my lord. Tradition, expectation, and ceremony are as useless in her eyes as a newborn child is to our military.}¡±
Aylar raised her eyebrows at the certainty of the other Haelfenn female¡¯s belief, and turned toward a third individual¡ªEarl Maeron Brightblade¡ªwhen the celebrated Knight and Lord shook his head and spoke.
¡°{I have known Ceruviel Latherian for over a century and fought beside her on Altera. She respects the history of our nation as much as anyone, even if she is not overly infatuated with its practices.}¡± he said in a tone that subtly spoke of correction. Clearly, he took issue with the Viscountess¡¯ words. ¡°{She was also one of the Heroine-Queen¡¯s chosen representatives. There is a reason the King charged her to accompany us as Dusk-Lord. Be cautious that your disgruntlement does not lead you down a path toward earning the ire of one of the last Archons, Lady Haeyr.}¡±
¡°{This is all well and good,}¡± Taerion, one of the few Platinum Adventurers that had transmigrated with them, said with impatience immediately afterwards ¡°{but you are all ignoring the more pressing reality here: Leonidas Achilles has completely upended the balance of power within the lower ranks of the Adventurers¡¯ Guild. It¡ª}¡±
¡°{Why should that concern us?}¡± demanded Count Saelyr, the last of her four noble advisors and a loyal enough supporter, but hot-headed at the best of times. His father had been one of Aylar¡¯s mentors, previously, on Altera¡ªand the young Count and she had enjoyed a healthy friendship before and after their transmigration¡ though her rejection of his advances had strained things for a time. ¡°{What matters is that the Terrans are starting to grow obstinate again. We need to look at how we can curtail their¡ª}¡±
¡°{Have you forgotten, Count Saelyr¡ª¡±} cut in Taerion once more ¡°{¡ªthat Her Highness is due to delve for her Rite of Ascension imminently? Why should Leonidas Achilles concern you? Because the boy may end up being the trump card during the delve!}¡±
Snorts of derision echoed around the table, but Aylar noticed not everyone seemed so ready to dismiss the idea.
Earl Brightblade looked thoughtful, the two other Platinum Adventurers¡ªCarius Fireborne and Samira Shadebloom¡ªseemed speculative as well, and her two Terran merchant advisors Thomas Anders and Maria Cherov, usually warily quiet during the meetings, appeared to be watching all the Haelfenn around the table with a mix of calculation and subtle displeasure.
Aylar, having been content to absorb their discourse while they argued, shifted subtly in her chair and cleared her throat. There was a time to observe, to let others show their cards and read their intent¡ªand there was a time to steer, either gently or firmly. Her father had taught her that.
It was a lesson Braedon had failed to learn in kind, much to their parents¡¯ chagrin.
¡°{You all act as if this development is solely disruptive. It is disruptive, but not only in the way you all fear. Our concern should not be that he exists¡ªit should be how best to harness his existence for the good of Dawnhaven and all its peoples.}¡± she began calmly while using her eyes to ensure she captured the attention of everyone at the table. ¡°{While the man himself is a stranger, Ceruviel Latherian is not. As Earl Brightblade so wisely pointed out, the Dusk-Lord has been a stoic and stalwart patriot of Altera her entire life¡ªand was a favored companion of my mother, the Queen.}¡±
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The subtle reminder of her bloodline and the weight of its discernment worked as she had hoped, and she saw the inklings of stubborn jaws fading into consideration.
¡°{While his emergence certainly puts us into a precarious socio-political position, we cannot overlook the boon that his arrival offers us.}¡± Aylar continued while turning specifically to look at Thomas and Maria. ¡°{Though usually quiet, our Terran friends here can no-doubt weigh in on the significance of an individual displaying the power to not only subvert expectations of Terran capability, but represent true equity between the native peoples of this world and our own.}¡±
Both Merchants eyed her warily when she spoke, glanced at one another in that habitual way humans were wont to do, and then slowly nodded their agreement.
¡°{Power does not belong to the strongest, nor to the most deserving¡ªit belongs to those who shape the battlefield before the battle begins.}¡± Aylar said with an echo of pride in remembering the lesson her mother had taught her. ¡°{In this, I believe Leonidas Achilles could prove a boon to our cause¡ªand help bridge the painful divides that still linger between us and our Terran citizens. I would like to hear from Thomas and Maria, and understand what he represents to the Terran populace, not just what we think he represents.}¡±
The pair of natives glanced at one another again, and then once more turned back to the Princess¡ªonly to be stymied by an interjection from Count Saelyr when Thomas opened his mouth to speak.
¡°{Of course the Terrans will be thrilled. One of them managed to prove themselves worth more than hard labor.}¡± he said with unveiled derision.
A sharp silence fell over the table at Count Saelyr¡¯s words.
Aylar did not immediately react. She simply looked at him¡ªnot with anger, not with offense, but with the kind of expectant patience that her mother had wielded against her in her youth. Despite the similarity of age between them, Saelyr had always been lacking in social tact and maturity.
If she had to be the one to guide him toward becoming the Haelfar his father thought he could be, then so be it. She owed the elder Count that much.
Saelyr, to his credit and her satisfaction, realized his misstep swiftly.
He was brash, and eager to prove his loyalty through bluster, but he was not a fool¡ªat least, not when it mattered. Aylar could see it in the way he shifted in his seat and the way his fingers curled slightly against the polished wood of the table, with clear signs of regretful discomfort. Braedon might have verbally eviscerated him or shamed him for his own amusement for speaking so openly, but Aylar had learned the value of silence.
She let it stretch just long enough to become uncomfortable.
¡°{And yet, Count,}¡± she said at last, her voice as smooth as tempered steel when she finally broke the tension, ¡°{for all your disdain, was it not your own younger brother that surrendered the trial rather than face Leonidas Achilles in combat? In fact, I believe not a single Haelfenn of pure blood made it into the final four.}¡±
Saelyr stiffened, but he had enough presence of mind not to argue. He had made his stance clear; now he had to weather the consequences of it.
¡°{It is easy to forget the gravity of an achievement, and the worth of our contemporaries, when the world is solely viewed through a biased lens. You are a treasured part of my council, Count Saelyr, but I will remind you to mind your impulses when I am speaking to a fellow councilor. This is not Altera. Remember that.}¡±
The Count dipped his head, but said nothing, though his cheeks were faintly flushed.
Aylar turned away from him, dismissing his objection without another word. She would let him bear the shame of the outburst, and let the room absorb the weight of her words. She had no patience for self-serving rhetoric, not when the future of her kingdom demanded foresight instead of arrogance. Her ability to accept the necessities for Dawnhaven¡¯s future prosperity was why they followed her. Archaic perceptions of racial supremacy served them ill.
She gestured, subtly but pointedly, to Thomas Anders.
¡°{You were about to speak, Master Anders. Please, continue.}¡±
The Terran merchant¡¯s jaw tensed slightly, his eyes flickering between the Count and the Princess. His expression was carefully neutral, though there was no mistaking the way his fingers tapped once against the polished table¡ªa small, controlled movement that spoke volumes.
Calculating. Wary. Respectful enough to bite his tongue, but not cowed.
Terrans, she had discovered, were a very proud people.
¡°{Thank you, Your Highness,}¡± Anders said at last, and after a length of silence at her instruction that just barely bordered on impoliteness. She saw each of her four nobles, even Count Saelyr, take note of that silence with different reactions¡ªbut she said nothing, and without her reprimand, neither would they.
Given the circumstances, it was best she simply let it go.
The Merchant folded his hands before him and when he spoke, his tone was measured and even. ¡°{I cannot pretend to speak for every Terran in Dawnhaven, Your Highness, but I can speak for those I represent in the merchant¡¯s guild and residential quarter¡ªand I will tell you plainly: Leonidas Achilles is not just an anomaly to us. He is a symbol.}¡±
Maria Cherov, sitting beside him, inclined her head in agreement.
¡°{Thomas speaks the truth, Your Highness, fellow councilors. For five years, the message¡ªno matter its phraseology or intention¡ªhas been clear: Terrans do not rise. Terrans do not advance. We are weak, and we are fortunate to even find the privilege of service within Haelfenn society, be it as Adventurers, servants, or otherwise.}¡±
Aylar felt her expression soften with empathy at the Terran female¡¯s words, and though she kept herself largely poised, she couldn¡¯t help but feel some measure of guilt. It was easy to forget that they, the Haelfenn, were the invaders¡ªand these people had built millennia of civilization and culture prior to their arrival.
By all accounts, the ¡®United States¡¯ that Maria and Thomas were born into was particularly opposed to exactly the sort of circumstances the Merchant was describing. It put the importance of Ace¡¯s emergence into stark contrast.
¡°{While I understand the frustration of that outlook, Mistress Cherov, surely you know that not all of us share that viewpoint.}¡± Brightblade said after the woman fell silent. ¡°{I have personally nurtured several promising Terran Knights for my House.}¡±
¡°{Whether or not the people at this table resonate with or agree with that stance is, respectfully, wholly moot, my lord.}¡± Thomas answered instead while fixing his gaze upon the Earl. ¡°{Your actions do you credit, but they are not enough to outweigh the gravity of our reality. Maria¡¯s words reflect the status quo established when you settled here, whether by law or by unspoken rule. Your act of respect, while appreciated, does not ameliorate our peoples¡¯ circumstances.}¡±
He turned his sharp gaze to encompass all of the nobles at the table, lingering just long enough to be pointed before returning his attention to Aylar.
¡°{The rest of the Aristocracy was more than happy to reinforce that status quo as well.}¡± Samira put in with a small shrug of her black-robed shoulders after Thomas was done, her eyes moving among the assembled. ¡°{Isn¡¯t that why we are in the circumstances we are? It is insincere not to acknowledge that a large majority of nobles support Braedon specifically because of his views on Haelfenn supremacy.}¡±
The four nobles at the table reacted with different levels of displeasure at Samira¡¯s words, but no one rebuked her¡ªnot even Saelyr, who only looked even more somber at the deluge of truth that had been shared. If nothing else, Aylar hoped that would work to better shape her kinsman.
Maria nodded toward Samira when she finished, and then redirected her gaze back to Aylar. The Princess did not miss the subtle embers of pride burning within her green eyes when the Terran female continued.
¡°{Leonidas Achilles has, by simple merit of achieving things even Haelfenn see as baffling and borderline impossible, shattered that expectation. While some among the nobility may see this as an inconvenience, the common Terrans¡ªthose who have endured five years of quiet subjugation, regardless of intention¡ªsee it as something else entirely.}¡±
Earl Brightblade leaned forward slightly despite himself while resting his forearms on the table. ¡°{And what is it they see, Mistress Cherov?}¡± he asked with genuine interest.
Maria held his gaze without flinching. ¡°{Hope.}¡±
The word landed like a hammer on the table.
It was a simple answer, but it was also the most dangerous answer that could have been given. Hope was the kindling of change, and change was a force that could not be controlled once set in motion.
For the first time, Aylar saw flickers of true realization cross the faces of her council. Even Saelyr, still ruminating from his prior reprimand, looked unsettled.
Good. Let them understand.
Aylar permitted the word¡¯s impact to hang for a moment longer, and then folded her hands in her lap. ¡°{Then the question before us is not whether Leonidas Achilles should be acknowledged. It is how best to make him an ally.}¡±
None of them knew that Ceruviel had already all but promised Leonidas¡ªAce¡ªas part of her Delve team, and given the rumors and stories she had been hearing combined with what the merchants were saying now?
Ceruviel truly had done her an immense favor.
Which meant, of course, that she was plotting something.
Marquis Yvaris was the first to speak into the silence she had left while clearing his throat. ¡°{With respect, Your Highness, if you truly intend to wield this Terran as an asset, you must consider the political cost. A singular anomaly may be tolerated, but if his success emboldens others¡}¡±
He trailed off, letting the implication settle. If more Terrans followed in Leonidas¡¯ footsteps, if more of them sought advancement, recognition, power¡ªwhat then?
Aylar tilted her head while studying him, and smiled quietly. ¡°{You assume this is something we must fear, Marquis. I say it is something we must shape.}¡±
¡°{While your brother remains an equal contender, shaping such things may prove difficult.}¡± Earl Brightblade said after a moment. ¡°{I know you know this, Your Highness, but it is worth reaffirming the reality that Braedon¡¯s influence is extreme among the very aristocracy you wish to corral, as already expressed.}¡±
¡°{My brother remains an impediment to many things.}¡± Aylar said with a nod. ¡°{But I am hopeful that, following my Rite of Ascension, the balance of power will shift appropriately.}¡±
Viscountess Haeyr let out a quiet hum at her words, and amid the murmurs that followed, spoke up more directly.
¡°{Spoken like your mother¡¯s daughter, Your Highness.}¡± she said with a dip of her head. ¡°{Still though, some might say there is an easier solution. If you were to find a proper husband from among the Aristocracy, it would certainly ameliorate much of the concerns other parties have with your rise overturning our cultural traditions.}¡±
Aylar¡¯s fingers curled slightly against the table¡¯s edge. Marriage. Even her own advisors, loyal as they were, hearkened to it as an answer. Nods from around the table, even from the Adventurers and Terrans, only reaffirmed that her own resistance to the idea was seen as increasingly odd.
A simpler answer? Perhaps. It wasn¡¯t as if she hadn¡¯t considered it.
But marriage was not something she was willing to entertain so frivolously¡ªnot as a tool, not as a concession. She knew she had a duty to mother an heir, and there was no question she would; but she would not become some male¡¯s glorified broodmare.
If Aylar was to marry, she would marry¡ªif not for love¡ªfor respect and mutual benefit, not simply shallow politics alone. If a male was to stand alongside her as King, more than anything else, she had to be able to trust not just her safety to them; but her vision for Dawnhaven as well.
But the names whispered in the halls¡ªveteran generals past their prime, lesser sons of noble houses seeking status, and vagabond adventurers of braggadocious temperament and no courtly training¡ªleft her with little optimism.
¡°{I am aware of the need to secure a match, Viscountess, but I am in no rush. After my Rite of Ascension, and once we have secured the Throne, I will look in earnest as tradition demands. For now, however, we will play with the cards we are dealt and work to harness the changes happening in Dawnhaven for the better¡ªpreferably before my brother can turn what should be an evolution into a revolution that threatens us all.}¡±
Viscountess Haeyr let out a quiet humm and bowed her head. ¡°{Bold, Your Highness. You are planning on playing a dangerous game.}¡±
Reactions around the rest of the table were mixed, with both Terran merchants appraising her with unreadable expressions, the Marquis¡ªa staunch traditionalist despite his loyalty to her cause¡ªstroking his chin in thought, Brightblade peering at her in consideration, Saelyr staring stonily at the table, and the Adventurers watching everyone with open curiosity and subtle amusement.
Despite it all though, Aylar remained undaunted.
Instead she met their gazes steadily, and lifted her chin.
When she spoke, it was with every iota of her [Princess Royal] presence.
¡°{I am the daughter of the Heroine-Queen, good councilors. Danger is in my blood.}¡±
And to that, at least, nobody had anything to say.
B1 | Chapter 54: Lets Get Down to Business
Leonidas hit the ground in the arena with a groan of pain, and an angry flash of his lowered health. His eyes, unfocused for a moment from the impact, sought out the source of his suffering where she stood not three feet distant¡ªwatching him with an imperious expression.
It was the first morning of their training, and she was thrashing him out the gate.
Ceruviel¡¯s eyes were merciless when she regarded him.
¡°{You fight like a conqueror, Achilles,}¡± she told him while he caught his breath, her voice calm yet piercing as she watched him. ¡°{Overwhelming, relentless, but ultimately wasteful. An Archon does not swing to destroy like some overwrought primate when instead a single, precise cut will suffice. Power without purpose is nothing but noise.}¡±
Leonidas picked himself up with another hiss of discomfort, while grimacing in reflection at the power behind her hits. Even holding back, Ceruviel struck like a battering ram¡ªand cared little for the immensity nor intensity of the pain that followed.
¡°{Agony is an anvil, Achilles.}¡± she had said ruthlessly on their first day, when he¡¯d laid heaving on the ground after she had punched him¡ªwith mitigated force no less¡ªin the stomach. ¡°{Either you will be molded by it as is needed, or you will shatter and show the truth of your brittle material.}¡±
¡°{I thought you wanted me to be a Conqueror.}¡± he said hoarsely while pushing his hands against the arena floor to force himself upright. ¡°{Dawnhaven does not need a peaceful monarch. Those were your words, Ceruviel.}¡±
¡°{They were, and I do.}¡± she affirmed while eyeing him still and regarding him with her cold, calculating lavender eyes. ¡°{But there is a difference between conquest and brute force. Conquest is an act of intellect, utilizing force but harnessing strategy. You lacked the latter.}¡±
¡°{Not using force against you is asking to lose.}¡± he argued with a wheeze. ¡°{If I hold back, I¡ª}¡±
¡°{You will lose regardless.}¡± she cut in ruthlessly. ¡°{Victory is not what this lesson is about.}¡±
¡°{Then what is the goal?}¡± he asked in frustration.
¡°{You have fought from a position of power your entire time in Elatra. Even when you were training, it was with the subconscious awareness of your own might. That has imbued a mentality of invincibility in you that¡ªeven ignoring your normal fatalism¡ªwill result in your death. I am teaching you to break that mentality, and to learn to fight from disadvantage.}¡± Ceruviel explained with brutal honesty.
The days had continued like that for most of the week.
Leonidas had known suffering before. Suffering and pain were old friends, earned on the battlefields of Elatra and at the cost of several lives he had learned to cherish.
Suffering did not break him.
He fought until his muscles trembled and failed, until exhaustion clawed at his very bones, and until all he could see was Ceruviel before him and the world faded to a single point: her, her sword, and his next movement.
He had bled and been battered until his vision blurred into a crimson haze, and the Duchess came at him like a ghost of wrath; overwhelming him like a force of nature¡ªlike the living embodiment of the cataclysm raging in his body.
Ceruviel¡¯s training did not simply push him to the limits of his System-wrought body; it ripped him apart, piece by agonizing piece, weakness by exposed weakness, tearing down every flawed foundation he had built over years of combat in Elatra¡ªand reshaping him into something new.
Her methods were not designed to make him stronger in the way Miranda¡¯s had been¡ªMiranda, with her steady hand and unyielding resolve, had forged him into a warrior, a weapon honed for the chaos of battle, a blade tempered for war.
But Ceruviel? She was crafting something beyond that, something far more refined. Something precise. Something indomitable. Something that she not only wanted, but that Dawnhaven and the world at large needed.
An Archon.
A King.
The lessons in combat and warfare continued without break or abatement throughout the time she had allotted for them, and from six until the midday bell every morning Ceruviel put him through a crucible of pain. She never allowed him a reprieve, not when he felt bones crack or limbs dislocate, and not when he was dry-heaving from an exhaustion that pushed even his System-enhanced body to its limit.
It was not that the conditioning did not pay dividends, though.
Quite the opposite.
While it was true he accrued no experience fighting Ceruviel, his physical exertions earned him considerable progress. Strength, Dexterity, Agility, Vitality, and Endurance all improved notably. The latter two had grown the most, with Endurance outstripping every other attribute for its massive rate of increase.
He had pointed this fact out to Ceruviel with considerable surprise during one of his first sessions with her, and the Dusk-Lord had looked at him like he was an idiot.
¡°{That is the point, Achilles. We cannot give you levels, but we can certainly make your foundation peerless. Is that not what I promised you?}¡±
From there the training had continued relentlessly, and Leonidas had thrown himself into it with single-minded gusto. Being beaten black and blue and having his bones broken by his mentor was nothing new, thanks to Miranda¡ªbut the concept of quantifiable growth through the System left him breathlessly giddy. It was as addictive as any VR game he¡¯d played prior to his pseudo-transmigration.
The physical part of his training, however, was not the most difficult.
At midday, after a stabilizing lunch and only enough medical attention to ensure he wasn¡¯t crippled¡ªCeruviel said natural healing would improve his Vitality faster¡ªhad been applied, Leonidas was subjected to the conditioning of his mental attributes: Intelligence, Willpower, and Charisma. While the latter was technically more of a spiritual power, to hear Ceruviel explain it, she no less included it in her lessons.
And so, after hours of grueling combat, when most warriors would be granted respite or a chance to collapse and recover, his training shifted to another battlefield.
Ceruviel attacked his mind with the same calculated ruthlessness she brought to physical combat, and assailed him like he had kicked her dog.
Psionic conditioning became a daily torment, and represented a relentless and single-minded siege on his already tenuous mental stability.
First, it was mental endurance¡ªforcing him to withstand overwhelming waves of mental pressure and illusions designed to break his spirit: fabricated nightmares so vivid, and so immersive that they unraveled his sense of reality; pulling him into depths of bleakness and drowning him beneath fears he still barely managed to keep at bay.
She barely gave him time to recover between each onslaught, even after he was a shivering mess of sweat, tears, and¡ªin some cases¡ªanimal panic.
¡°{The world will not be kind to your traumas.}¡± she had said to him after a session that left him struggling to breathe from sheer panic and fear. He had focused on her, despite being the cause of his suffering, like a lighthouse in the darkness.
¡°{I am sorry you carry the burdens you do, Achilles, but I cannot let them be the weakness that breaks you. If we had time, we could do this more gently¡ªbut our enemies will not be so kind as to wait, and so I must be even more cruel than they.}¡± she reached for him then, and braced his cheeks with her hands encouragingly. ¡°{Weather this. You have the strength. It will make you stronger.}¡±
After the mental assaults had concluded, the lessons shifted to complex tactical exercises: illusory battlefields conjured within his mind, where he commanded phantom forces in engagements that tested his ability to predict, manipulate, and master the flow of combat.
He had to win, not with brute force as he once might have, but with strategy, foresight, and adaptation; outthinking enemies that shifted and evolved with every move he made.
Some days, he found himself trapped within illusions that blurred the line between memory and fabrication¡ªforced to fight old battles with different and twisted outcomes, or forced to relive choices he had made years ago and see their consequences shift and twist before his eyes.
¡°{You rely too much on instinct,}¡± Ceruviel observed after a particularly harrowing session, where he had barely clawed his way back to lucidity, and sat heaving in air while his mind and body had trembled in unison from the strain. ¡°{Instinct is useful, a tool for survival. But without the ability to truly see the battlefield, to think beyond the present moment, you are nothing more than a beast reacting to its environment. You must learn to be the hunter, not the prey¡ªto shape the fight, not merely endure it.}¡±
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The worst and best elements of his lessons were when she simply crushed him under pure Psionic force, hammering his mind with relentless waves of external willpower that bore down on him like a collapsing sky. It played to his strengths in a way nothing else did, and there was a kind of sanguine calm in simply relying on pure force of will to endure.
Ceruviel forced him to stand while the pressure of her presence threatened to suffocate him, smother him, shatter him, and grind his resolve into dust.
The first time, he had barely lasted two minutes before his knees buckled and hit the ground, all while his chest heaved and he gasped for breath with sweat dripping into his eyes. The second time, he endured for five with a clenched jaw and a determination to never surrender; his legs shaking but holding.
By the end of the third day, he could stand against her for nearly an hour before exhaustion finally claimed him, and his body and mind were pushed to their breaking point. He hated that he could not last longer, but Ceruviel had remarked on how stellar his growth was, despite his feelings to the contrary.
And when, on the fourth day, he pushed back for the first time¡ªwhen he summoned his own will and forced his mind outward, cracking her illusion like glass¡ªshe had only smirked in approval, while a faint glint of pride shone in her otherwise impassive and ancient violet gaze.
¡°{Good.}¡± she had said with no small amount of tacit approval. ¡°{It seems this exercise truly is the easiest for you. The illusions attack a weakness, but this attacks a strength. Your Willpower has always been your most precious asset.}¡± she commended while he remained on his hands and knees, watching her but gasping for air.
¡°{You are right to harness your emotions as you do, and convert them to power. You are a natural at this part, at least. Few Squires show so much raw Willpower, especially while Untempered. Well done.}¡±
But even after all of that¡ªafter the physical torment, the mental onslaught¡ªhis day was not over. There was no reprieve, no moment to simply breathe.
Training for his Core and his Affinity followed closely on the heels of his psionic and mental conditioning, and in many ways it was both the easiest and most frustrating part of his lessons.
His [Cataclysm Core] refused to heed him at the best of times, and when Ceruviel taught him ways to more efficiently cycle his mana, while applauding his ingenuity around using Psi as a buffer¡ªhe often found himself falling backward in exhaustion, or writhing against internal agony from the searing pressure of his own power.
The Duchess braced him against his frustrations with assurances he was progressing and always, always seemed to know exactly when to flip from Core work to Affinity progression. Learning to harness Psi in a way that was more natural and less linear was a great boon to Leonidas, and it was these lessons that he found the easiest throughout the week.
Psi was a living thing, as strange and lively as his own psyche, and it seemed to want to respond to his Willpower when enough certainty was present in his mind. Ceruviel taught him to wield it like a second limb: to shape it, layer it, twist it, and manipulate it freely.
While nothing he did was strong enough to actually impact the world around them, she taught him the principles behind several new skills, and how to use those foundations in combat to attain them officially through the System.
¡°{Psi has always been the weapon of an Archon, and we learned well its myriad mysteries and applications.}¡± she had explained while manipulating the energy before him as easily as breathing. ¡°{There is no limit to what one can do with its power, and when combined with your unique abilities, I believe this is more true than ever. You will be an Archon that shakes your world, Achilles. My duty is to ensure you develop in such a way as to benefit it, instead of become its bane.}¡±
When the sun dipped low and his body ached with the day¡¯s exertions, Ceruviel departed for her duties¡ªbut not before thrusting him into yet another theatre, one which he had dreaded more than any other: the shadowy world of politics and diplomacy.
The halls of her luxurious estate became a new battlefield, filled not with Blues seeking his head nor Hive Tyrants wanting to make him their meal; but with powerful merchants draped in silks and jewelry, nobles adorned in regal attire and ancestral items of inheritance, and military officers of all ranks with stern gazes: each one skilled in their own subtle and insidious kind of warfare.
These were battles he had never truly trained for, and in fact had actively avoided during his time in Elatra. They took place in a realm where his skill with a blade was as meaningless as paper before a tidal wave, and words were the deadliest of weapons.
¡°{A King is more, much more, than just a Knight, Achilles,}¡± she told him one evening, while leading him through the arcane-lit corridors toward yet another meeting with some tutor or another. ¡°{A King must wield words as deftly and as lethally as he wields a blade. He must shape perception, command respect, and understand the theatre of politics just as he does the theatre of war. Strength alone, no matter its potency, will not suffice here.}¡±
¡°{But does strength not dominate all, in the end?}¡± he had asked while remembering her tales of the tiers within the System.
¡°{Were you a seventh tier elite, perhaps.}¡± Ceruviel conceded, with something between amusement and exasperation. ¡°{But you are not even Tempered yet. Dispel those thoughts from your mind. If you seek brute force as a safety net, you will only doom yourself before you begin. Learn, Achilles. Learn, so others may not destroy you without ever drawing a blade.}¡±
And so, he learned¡ªslowly, painfully, but he learned.
He learned to read people as easily as he read an opponent¡¯s footwork in combat. He learned to decipher the subtle shifts in posture, the flickers of expression, the fidget of hands, and the nervous or unconscious tics of facial muscles and anatomy that betrayed intent.
He learned to recognize the weight behind casual words, spoken with a seeming lack of care, and to hear the intentions left unsaid beneath polished smiles. He learned to navigate conversations where every phrase, every instruction, every question was a test¡ªa maneuver or hidden trap waiting to ensnare the unwary.
Some nights she threw him into discussions without warning before departing, and forced him to convince a shrewd merchant to negotiate better trade terms while struggling to think of leverage he didn¡¯t know he had¡ªor to resolve a heated contention between nobles who had no interest in compromise, all while they leered at him with thinly veiled contempt, and pride as unyielding as stone.
Other nights she took him with her to the Moonstone Fortress, and made him stand silently at her side in order to absorb the flow of conversation. She bade him to be patient, all while watching how she bent wills with a single well-placed word, expression, or calculating smile.
At first he had struggled, stymied and crippled by his own impatience and bluntness. Leonidas had been a warrior, a soldier, a Hero forged in blood and fire¡ªone that rejected niceties in favor of overwhelming violence. Ceruviel¡¯s demonstrated world of velvet and venom was not his, and he struggled greatly.
His first attempts were clumsy: his words too direct and his frustration palpable.
But he learned. He grew. He committed to his improvement.
He adapted. He always adapted.
Just as he had with the sword, just as he had on the battlefield against demons and men alike, he bent himself to the task and he overcame. By the end of the week, he could command a room without raising his voice, and his presence alone was enough to draw eyes and silence tongues. He knew he owed some of that, at least, to his status as Ceruviel¡¯s Squire¡ªbut his own Ambition, Charisma, and sheer Willpower played the greatest part; and he took pride in knowing how far he had come.
The fights with the Duskguard in the evening were their own challenge.
Each of his foes seemed determined to prove themselves, both to Ceruviel and to him, despite the Dusk-Lord¡¯s notable absence. They tested him without mercy, without holding back. He was their Lady¡¯s Squire, and he was not Haelfenn. He was an enigma, a mystery¡ªand in some views, he was a usurper and a mistake.
They did not hide their discontent.
Ceruviel had chosen the youngest and most promising of her soldiers for him to spar with, and there was nothing held back in those matches. Leonidas fought them like his life depended on it, utilizing every lesson he had learned in Elatra, and every insight Ceruviel had given him. He fought them with gusto and with pride, wielding Psi with an ease and confidence he never would have felt without his mentor.
Power and lethality flowed within him, and each night he sparred, each night he fought, he found himself growing more and more comfortable with his new abilities.
More than that, he found the Duskguard growing more and more comfortable with him.
By the last night of his training with Ceruviel, Leonidas sat in the arena laughing with several of the final evening¡¯s sparring partners; Haelfenn that had come repeatedly to fight him, and while eking out some victories¡ªthey were hardly pushovers, after all¡ªthey had failed to overcome him the majority of times.
Yet, there was no resentment.
Instead, he had proven himself.
And in the act, vindicated Ceruviel¡¯s choice.
¡°{Tomorrow you face the arena, Achilles.}¡± said Vasryn, a bold-looking Haelfar with stark white hair. ¡°{Are you sure you are ready?}¡±
A laugh echoed from their left, and another Haelfar¡ªa blonde female named Cerys¡ªshook her head. ¡°{The better question is whether the arena is ready for him, Vasryn.}¡± she declared with amusement. ¡°{He just fought two of us to a standstill and managed to take you down. If not for already being exhausted from Her Grace¡¯s training during the day, we may have been flattened by him.}¡±
Vasryn glanced at Cerys, and then another voice cut in from opposite the blonde female.
¡°{Cerys is right, but don¡¯t let that go to your head, Achilles.}¡± rumbled Garion, a massive Haelfar that looked like the elven equivalent of Dwayne Johnson. ¡°{The arena will not be merciful. You survived the Hive Tyrant, but those were the pregames. The title matches will be far more harrowing, and you may not just be fighting beasts.}¡±
¡°{What do you mean?}¡± Leonidas had asked with mild trepidation.
¡°{The arena is how they execute capital offenders, Leonidas.}¡± Vasryn said in a more solemn tone. ¡°{That means Terrans, too. Your own people.}¡±
¡°{It is never easy to kill kin.}¡± Cerys added quietly while looking between them all. ¡°{And if the Prince and the Blues catch wind of who you are and what Ceruviel intends, it is likely they will do everything in their power to diminish you in front of the city¡ªand especially the other Terrans.}¡±
Leonidas frowned at her words, but the nods of affirmation from Vasryn and Garion gave him reason to take them seriously. Cerys was always a bit of a storyteller, but if she was being serious, then he had much to consider. He would not take the warning, given by people that had been among a dozen or more that had disapproved of him even two days earlier, as anything less than what it was: a gesture of sincerity.
By time the night wound to a close and the three remaining Duskguard¡ªsix had come that evening¡ªdeparted, Leonidas had retired to his meditation with a quiet resolve.
By time Dawn had come and Ceruviel returned, his mind had been settled.
He would go to the Arena as Ceruviel bade, and he would prove his mettle.
And when he was done, all of Dawnhaven would know the name Achilles.
B1 | Chapter 55: Grand Entrance, Old Enemies
Leonidas stood silently before the portcullis of Dawnhaven Arena.
His [Archon¡¯s Warplate], minus his helmet, was equipped, his [Archon¡¯s Psiblade] was in his hand, and his eyes were locked upon the massive gate with expectation. His [Psionic Focus] was already passively working, as it had been since the second-to-last day of his training with Ceruviel.
At his side, Tarnys¡ªhaving been appointed to watch his back along with his new Lance¡ªsurveyed the closed gates with more outward nervousness than Leonidas himself felt. The Haelfar seemed to feel as though he would be executed if Leonidas suffered something as simple as a splinter, and though the reaction was extreme, it was also somewhat endearing.
¡°{You have everything you need?}¡± Tarnys asked again for the second time in the last hour. ¡°{The Dusk-Lord assured me you were prepared, but it cannot hurt to ensure.}¡±
Leonidas suppressed a smile at the question, but answered calmly.
¡°{Three health potions, three stamina potions, and three psi potions.}¡± he confirmed with a steady voice and reassuring voice. ¡°{Her Grace saw me well-equipped, Tarnys. The largest impediment to my survival, now, is what lurks beyond these gates.}¡±
¡°{Good.}¡± Tarnys muttered with a nod, while folding his arms and forcing himself to lean against the wall. ¡°{I was charged with your safety by the Dusk-Lord directly, so I must ensure I do not fail.}¡±
¡°{The Arena is my own crucible, Tarnys. You cannot protect me from it.}¡±
¡°{No,}¡± he agreed, ¡°{but I can make sure you don¡¯t die due to lack of preparation.}¡±
¡°{Your concern is touching.}¡± Leonidas mused with a shift of his head toward the Haelfar. ¡°{Truly.}¡±
¡°{Hmph. At least your attitude is the same.}¡± The Elf said, though there was a quirk at the corner of his mouth when he spoke. ¡°{It seems Her Grace¡¯s training did not beat that out of you.}¡±
¡°{Oh, no, she seemed to think my attitude was one of my strengths, actually.}¡± Leonidas answered with a wry shrug of his armored shoulders. ¡°{I suppose it makes sense, given¡ª}¡± he caught himself before saying the wrong thing, like ¡®becoming a King¡¯, and quickly amended his tac ¡°{¡ªher expectations for a Squire.}¡±
¡°{Yes, well, with a Sovereign Ambition I can hardly fault the pride.}¡± The Elf said, with a slight shift of his posture and a wary look Leonidas wasn¡¯t sure he was supposed to catch. It was only his intimate familiarity with Haelfenn, combined with Ceruviel¡¯s lessons¡ªa continuation of Lyara¡¯s own, in fact¡ªthat allowed him to pick up on the subtle tension in Tarnys¡¯ shoulders, and the way his eyes flickered across Leonidas in trepidation.
The Ambition, he had learned, was a key part of himself that had to be kept secret. Knowledge of it would incite murderous reactionary aggression from many parties in the city, especially those loyal to Braedon. Thankfully, Tarnys all but worshipped the ground Ceruviel walked on. He could be trusted.
At least, that was the Dusk-Lord¡¯s read¡ªand Leonidas trusted her instincts and psionic abilities both enough to take her at her word.
For the most part.
¡°{An Ambition is an Ambition, Tarnys. I did choose it, but it was also a case of it being the best of several bad options. Do not worry about it too much.}¡±
¡°{I don¡¯t think I want to know what the others were, if that¡¯s the case.}¡± Tarnys responded with a small shiver. ¡°{That is a scope of existence I am happy to be bereft of carrying the burden for.}¡±
Leonidas laughed at that, though it was mostly mirthless.
¡°{You have no idea.}¡±
Their conversation was abruptly interrupted, then, by the sound of a roar from the crowd and the emphatic voice of the Arena¡¯s announcer.
¡°AND THERE YOU HAVE IT, CITIZENS!¡± the woman shouted in English with discernible glee, and a performer¡¯s enthusiasm. ¡°THE SHADOW WOLF HAS CONQUERED THE HIVE TYRANT! WHAT AN AMAZING END TO THE PREGAME SHOW!¡±
¡°{Another Hive Tyrant?}¡± Leonidas asked with a dry voice. ¡°{Does the Arena breed these things?}¡±
¡°{One of the nearby dungeons spawns them semi-regularly.}¡± Tarnys answered, despite the partially rhetorical nature of the question. ¡°{It isn¡¯t entirely easy to capture them, but keeping them contained is easy enough with the right tools and Store items. Most of the beasts are kept in stasis until they¡¯re needed.}¡±
¡°{Huh. I should have asked about that sooner, I guess.}¡±
¡°{I doubt it was a necessary part of whatever curriculum the Duchess chose for you.}¡±
¡°{No,}¡± Leonidas said with reflection, and a realization that the minutiae of the Arena probably wasn¡¯t something a monarch should worry about. ¡°{I suppose it was not.}¡±
¡°{I doubt the match was as harrowing as yours, for what it¡¯s worth.}¡± Tarnys said with another appraising look, which Leonidas caught. This time it seemed to outweigh wariness with respect, which was certainly an improvement. ¡°{Unlike you, the pregame contender this time was almost at their second temper.}¡±
¡°{Yeah, that would make a lot of sense.}¡± Leonidas said in a tone that he couldn¡¯t entirely keep from being sour. ¡°{There was no Arena Master out to get them.}¡±
¡°{The fellow that did that to you got his comeuppance, Achilles.}¡± Tarnys reminded him wryly.
¡°{Still a} dick {move.}¡± he grumbled, to which Tarnys shrugged and nodded.
¡°NOW, CITIZENS OF DAWNHAVEN, IT IS TIME FOR A SHORT INTERMISSION WHILE THE ARENA IS CLEARED¡ªAND THEN, IT IS ON TO OUR MAIN EVENT!¡±
Leonidas tilted his head at the words, and let out a sigh of relief.
¡°{Finally.}¡± he muttered, the Haelfennyr leaving his lips instinctively after his week with Ceruviel.
¡°{Impatient to court death?}¡± Tarnys asked wryly.
¡°{No. I simply despise the waiting.}¡± Leonidas replied seriously despite the joking tone. ¡°{I can handle fighting, that is simple enough: myself, the enemy, and my own wits and skills. That makes sense to me. It is comfortable, in fact¡ª}¡±
¡°{Well that makes one of us.}¡± Tarnys muttered, though Leonidas ignored it.
¡°{¡ªand is what I prefer, but the calm before the storm? That, Tarnys, is what really kills people.}¡± he continued with a gesture of his free hand. ¡°{It lowers readiness, and hastens complacency. Idleness is a poison all on its own, when it comes to battle. It allows a warrior to lose themselves in their own head, and while I am not wont to fall into that trap, it still irritates me.}¡±
Tarnys raised his eyebrows at Leonidas¡¯ words, but nodded slowly after he finished.
¡°{I suppose I can see your point.}¡± he said after a brief pause. ¡°{Though I am surprised by that insight, admittedly. Did Ceruviel teach you that?}¡±
Leonidas blinked at that in momentary confusion, and then realized that Tarnys, naturally, had no idea about his past.
¡°{She taught me many things.}¡± he said instead of lying, and with every iota of his improved Charisma put into the words to give them weight.
¡°{Good.}¡± Tarnys said in a tone that seemed convinced. ¡°{Hopefully it will be enough¡ªbecause I wager you have two minutes before they rip open these gates.}¡±
¡°{Thank Christ.}¡± Leonidas muttered with a squint at the portcullis.
Tarnys fell silent after giving him a quizzical look, but Leonidas paid it no heed. Instead, he saw to his final mental preparation: checking his character sheet to remind himself of his arsenal. The moment he had the thought the system complied, and his existence was quantified in a crackling red screen before his eyes.
Name: Leonidas Achilles Romulus Paendrag
Age: 25 | Race: Human | Sex: Male
Core Name: Cataclysm Core | Core Stage: Formation
Class: Psiarch | Level: 8 | Rank: Novice
Health: 240 | Mana: (99) 123 | Stamina: 117 | Psi: 51
Affinity: Psi | Archetype: Knight | Discipline: Duelist | Ambition: Sovereign
STR: 29 | AGI: 19 | DEX: 22 | VIT: 24 | END: 31 | INT: 19 | WIL: 42 | CHA: 24
Psi Skills: Psikinetic Blade, Psikinetic Shield, Psionic Focus, Psionic Swordforce
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Bonded Items: Archon¡¯s Psiblade (38% Synergy) | Archon¡¯s Warplate (42% Synergy)
Knight Skills: Chivalric Charge, Coupe de Force: Premier
Sovereign Skills: Noble¡¯s Resolve, Oath of Fealty
Titles: Human Forerunner (U), Mana Sage (E)
Traits: Cataclysm (T)
3,350 / 8,000 XP
0 Attribute Points
4 Skill Purchase Points
0 Skill Upgrade Points
0 Skill Evolution points
His attributes had all seen massive gains under Ceruviel¡¯s brutal training, but none more so than his Vitality, Endurance, and Willpower¡ªall of which had skyrocketed past their previous values. His Intelligence had increased the least, due in large part to his utter distaste for studying, but his Charisma had improved respectably after the inundation of courtly tuition and active interaction with multitudinous Charisma-heavy individuals.
Charisma, it seemed, was trained through¡ªto nobody¡¯s real surprise¡ªsocial interaction, and he had been flooded with that over the period of Ceruviel¡¯s training. His Strength, Agility, and Dexterity had increased as well, though with no real challenges of a similar weight-class they had been smaller rises when compared to his mental attributes.
Ceruviel and the Simulacrums had been too strong, and the Duskguard warriors had not been fighting to their utmost to kill him. The System, as Ceruviel explained it, understood the difference between lethal contest and training, and it was very tight with skill dividends during the latter.
Ironically, it was his traumas and the vicious physical torment inflicted upon him that created the largest gains. Being all but obliterated day-after-day both physically and mentally had sent his Vitality, Endurance, and Willpower into the clouds and Ceruviel was quite confident that he very likely had the most ludicrous foundations of any Novice in recent history.
She was equally confident that nobody below Second Tier could truly challenge him. It was not a statement that either of them would take as gospel, given his own existence challenged the norm of what was considered possible within the scope of the System, but it was quite a boon to consider.
More than anything, clarifying his sheet confirmed the truth in clear text.
He was ready for whatever they might throw at him.
¡°LADIES AND GENTLEMEN OF DAWNHAVEN¡ª¡±
¡°{Here we go¡}¡± Tarnys muttered with enough trepidation that Leonidas could have been forgiven for mistaking him to be the one fighting.
¡°¡ªAND VALUED GUESTS, THE MOMENT YOU HAVE ALL BEEN WAITING FOR HAS ARRIVED! PREPARE YOURSELVES FOR TWO DAYS OF ENTERTAINMENT, PROVIDED BY OUR VERY OWN DUCHESS LATHERIAN; THE DUSK-LORD OF DAWNHAVEN!¡±
A roar of approval emanated from the crowd, and Leonidas smiled wryly. He could imagine Ceruviel standing, staring, and appearing as disinterested as if she were watching paint dry¡ªand he knew the audience would lap it up. Her stoic indomitability was legendary by that point.
¡°AS YOU ALL KNOW, RUMORS HAVE BEEN FLYING FOR A DAYS NOW THAT OUR DUSK-LORD HAS TAKEN A SQUIRE UNDER HER WING, AND I AM PLEASED TO ANNOUNCE¡ª¡±
¡°{Good luck, Achilles.} Tarnys said quietly. ¡°{The bullseye just got planted.}¡±
Leonidas didn¡¯t reply beyond patting Tarnys¡¯ shoulder reassuringly.
¡°¡ªTHAT SAID SQUIRE IS HERE TODAY, TO PUT ON A SHOW THE LIKES OF WHICH WE HAVE NOT SEEN IN MONTHS! HE HAS ALREADY MADE ONE SHOWING IN THE ARENA, WHERE HE¡¡±
The announcer was tuned out as she went on to recount his last appearance in the Arena, and Leonidas focused inward instead while closing his eyes.
Stillness and Form.
Focus. Harness. Control.
He had made great strides in cycling his mana during his week with Ceruviel, and it was that very disciplined which he wielded in that moment¡ªsending power through his body¡¯s mana channels in controlled bursts to exacerbate his physical abilities, and lend him an extra edge.
His Vitality improvements had also permitted greater tolerance to his own power, and what had once been teeth-gritting agony was now a tolerable sear, like a shower turned just too far up on the heat. Painful and discomforting, but very much manageable thanks in part to his immensely improved Willpower.
His heartbeat echoed in his ears, his breath filled his awareness, and Leonidas felt himself slow¡ªand then steady. He felt himself reach the center he¡¯d painstakingly worked to find, and greet the equilibrium that Ceruviel had drilled into him with brutality and unrelenting pain. Like a metal thrust into fire and hammered upon the anvil, he had emerged as a honed weapon.
Now it was time to be quenched.
What better way than through blood?
¡°...AND WITHOUT FURTHER DELAY, LADIES AND GENTLEMEN OF DAWNHAVEN¡ª¡±
The portcullis groaned and started to rise, and Tarnys gave him a silent thumbs up.
¡°¡ªALLOW ME TO INTRODUCE THIS WEEKEND¡¯S HEADLINE CONTENDER¡ª¡±
Leonidas snapped open his eyes and stepped forward the moment the portcullis rose above his head, blade held ready but relaxed at his right side. His armored feet clanked onto stone as he walked, and he lifted his head to survey the crowd as sound and volume reasserted itself¡ªthough his internal equilibrium remained.
Ceruviel had done a masterful job of ensuring that once he found his focus, he did not lose it easily, if at all.
¡°¡ªTHE SQUIRE OF THE DUSK-LORD, THE BLACK KNIGHT OF THE ADVENTURER¡¯S GUILD¡¡±
The title was new, but not unexpected. It was unlikely it had happened without Sinalthria¡¯s influence, either, and Leonidas found himself smirking. The Black Knight? There were worse titles, though it was perhaps a little corny.
¡°...I GIVE YOU: ACHILLES!¡±
The crowd released a deafening roar at the announcer¡¯s words, and Leonidas raised his blade in greeting as he walked toward his preplanned position at the center of the arena. Screams, whistles, and shouts of indistinct English and Haelfennyr both blended into a cacophony of noise¡ªone which rolled over his internal focus like a wave over ancient rock.
Leonidas knew what was expected, however, and offered the crowd his most charismatic smile; lifting his left hand to wave politely at the various peoples in attendance while his attention drifted toward the Royal Box overlooking the arena floor. He knew to expect Ceruviel there, of course, staring at him with the same impassive and stony expression she always wore.
He did not, however, expect to see Princess Aylar, nor the Haelfar he recognized¡ªfrom renditions, not personal experience¡ªas Prince Braedon seated next to her. The realization that not just his mentor, but both Royals were in attendance almost made him laugh. Ceruviel had hinted it might happen, but neither of them had been certain.
It seemed her instincts had been right again.
¡°WHAT A WARM WELCOME FROM THE ARENA!¡± the Announcer called cheerfully from where Leonidas spotted her at the forefront of the Royal Box, in the rows below the Dusk-Lord and the two Royals she ostensibly protected. ¡°DO YOU HAVE ANY WORDS FOR YOUR FANS, ACHILLES?¡±
Leonidas lowered his hand at the announcer¡¯s question and turned his gaze across the arena¡¯s stands. His eyes flitted across its denizens, noting that a large majority of terrans were in attendance. The Duskguard¡¯s warning came back to him, and he filed it away for consideration while he weighed what to say. He couldn¡¯t be seen to be pandering, because that would make him look weak¡ªand he couldn¡¯t be seen to be haughty, because that would make him look arrogant.
Instead, he simply turned back to the announcer and offered a poise-perfect courtly bow.
¡°It is my privilege, honored Announcer, to be able to represent both the people of Terra and the traditions of the Haelfenn that have joined us in our motherworld.¡± he said with smooth evasion of the potential trap. ¡°While I am young, I hope to prove that the Dusk-Lord¡¯s choice was sound, and that I can yet become a bridge between the old world and the new, much as Dawnhaven has become a sanctuary for both.¡±
Leonidas¡¯ [Psionic Focus] honed in on the announcer while he spoke, and he felt the moment that the Haelfar reacted to his words.
Shock. Surprise. Amusement.
Excitement.
Silence followed his words for two thunderous heartbeats, and then the arena exploded. A wave of adulation washed over him, and Leonidas steeled himself against the emotional tsunami that crashed into his honed senses. Terrans and Haelfenn alike were roaring their approval for his words, and he very nearly sagged in relief¡ªsaved only by the discipline instilled in him to maintain his image. In many ways, this arena session was his debut to the city at large in truth, and he had no intention of ruining it.
¡°WELL THERE YOU HAVE IT!¡± the announcer declared with an audible grin. ¡°A TRUE KNIGHT, WORTHY AT LEAST IN COMPORTMENT TO BE CONSIDERED THE DUCHESS LATHERIAN¡¯S SQUIRE!¡±
Another wave of thunderous approval followed before she spoke again.
¡°NOW UNLESS THERE IS ANYTHING FROM OUR ESTEEMED GUESTS¡?¡±
She along with many eyes in the arena turned to the Princess, Prince, and Dusk-Lord¡ªand all three shook their heads. Ceruviel impassively, Aylar graciously, and Braedon with a smile that Leonidas felt was about as sincere as a penguin in madagascar.
¡°...I ASK YOU, ACHILLES: ARE YOU PREPARED?¡±
Leonidas smiled up at her, as much for the announcer¡¯s benefit as the crowd¡¯s.
¡°I am.¡± he said calmly, and with neither aggrandizement nor arrogance. It was all well and good to play the Knightly role, but sometimes less was more, and the crowd could turn sour quickly if they thought all he wanted to do was seek their approval. It was best to be succinct where he could, to avoid tainting his good impression.
¡°THEN LET US MEET OUR FIRST CONTENDERS!¡±
Leonidas turned where he stood and planted his bastard sword on the stone before him. His hands folded together to rest on the amethyst in the pommel, and he took up a position of knightly preparedness, while his blue eyes sought out his opponents.
A portcullis on the far side of the arena from where he¡¯d entered rolled upward, and from the darkness emerged six large and gangly shapes. Their bodies were a mix of green and mottled brown, with large and wide noses, tusked mouths, tufted hair on their heads, and permanently scowling brows. Leather and chainmail adorned their bodies, and they carried a mix of spears, swords and shields, and even what looked like a gnarled ruby-topped staff in one case.
Leonidas knew what they were immediately, and his jaw tightened reactively.
Hobgoblins. This can¡¯t be a coincidence.
His eyes flicked toward the Royal Box, and he saw Ceruviel give him the faintest of nods.
¡°OUR FIRST CHALLENGERS ARE THE HOBGOBLINS OF THE TOOFYSTABBAS TRIBE, A GROUP THAT OUR NEW HEADLINER IS ALREADY ACQUAINTED WITH.¡± the announcer began with glee, while the audience booed and hissed at the Hobgoblins. ¡°THE TOOFYSTABBAS WERE RESPONSIBLE FOR THE DESTRUCTION OF AN ENTIRE TERRAN SETTLEMENT, AND IT WAS JUST LAST WEEK THAT ACHILLES PUT AN ENTIRE CADRE OF THEIR SMALLER KINFOLK TO THE SWORD IN VENGEANCE.¡±
+{Take advantage of this, Achilles.}+ Ceruviel said to him telepathically while the Hobgoblins, after listening to the announcer, turned their hateful eyes on him. +{I set the stage for you with intention. This is not the time for restraint. Your foes will not see you fight, but the crowd will. Dismantle these brutes, and show them who you are¡ªwho you really are.}+
+{A bit obvious, Ceruviel, is it not?}+
+{The best spectacles often are.}+
¡°IT APPEARS THE TOOFYSTABBAS ARE NONE TOO HAPPY ABOUT THAT PARTICULAR REVELATION.¡± the announcer said, to the roaring approval of the crowd. ¡°PERHAPS THEY WANT VENGEANCE OF THEIR OWN.¡±
Leonidas snorted under his breath at the announcer¡¯s words and lifted his blade. His helmet, previously absent, materialized upon his head in a flash-crackle of scarlet lightning¡ªand the crowd howled in approval.
¡°IT APPEARS OUR HEADLINER IS EAGER! WELL, LET¡¯S NOT KEEP HIM WAITING!¡±
The Hobgoblins barked at one another and split up; four of them moving to flank him, while another stayed at the side of what he assumed was their spellcaster. The fifth pulled a savage-looking horn shortbow from where it was hidden on his back, and reached back to withdraw some arrows.
¡°LET THE FIRST MATCH¡¡±
Leonidas breathed out steadily, and summoned Psi into his left hand in preparation. Within his solar plexus, his [Cataclysm Core] roared to be unleashed, and he grinned with quiet approval beneath his helmet.
He saw no reason to deny it.
¡°...BEGIN!¡±
Leonidas charged, and the crowd screamed their approval.
B1 | Chapter 56: Arena Combat, Toofystabbas III
Leonidas thundered toward the Hobgoblins like a storm given form, his footsteps cracking against the stone loud enough to echo even amid the cheers of the arena. His [Archon¡¯s Psiblade] hummed at his side, the psi rampaging through it brightening its amethyst glow enough that it was refracting against the golden sunlight as he bore down upon his enemies.
The Hobgoblins, to their credit, reacted immediately.
They were not the mindless, cackling goblins of his first arena bout¡ªthese creatures were trained, disciplined, and battle-hardened. Their formation snapped into place in a heartbeat, with clear coordination evident in their guttural, barking communications.
Four brutes surged forward to intercept him, shields raised and weapons drawn while their malicious yellow eyes focused upon him.
A fifth, an archer by the look of their shortbow, fell back at the same time as nocking an arrow, while the spellcaster barked out guttural words of power¡ªhis staff glowing with a sickly green light.
Perfect. He said grimly into his own mind. They handed it to me.
Leonidas reached out at the same time¡ªwith his left hand, and with his mind.
Psi surged through his veins, the raw force of his Willpower igniting like a forge flame fed by gasoline. Power and Intent burned within him like magma, echoing out from his raging [Cataclysm Core] as he harnessed his Affinity.
Ceruviel had drilled it into him¡ªagain and again¡ªthat new abilities were born not in training, but in the brutality of war. The System would only acknowledge a new Skill when it was wielded and tested under fire; under true and imminent mortal peril.
There was no better time than now.
Leonidas aborted his charge with a screech of his steel sabatons against the stone, and focused his power with his left arm as a guiding medium. It was a practice that Ceruviel had assured him would not be necessary at higher levels, but which served a critical purpose at lower ones. He had no reason to doubt her, and true to her word, using his hand as the focus point made his effort far more manageable.
Psi coalesced as a writhing tide of black-and-purple energy to his vision, and Leonidas directed it at the true threats ahead of him: the spellcaster and the archer. Pillars of pure force slammed down into both, woven from threads of potent Psi, and the pair froze as they felt their bodies unable to move.
Panicked and guttural barks came from each one, and the four Hobgoblins¡ªtheir yellow eyes glinting with dark intelligence¡ªlooked back toward their kin in assessment. Moments later they turned back to him, and seemed to realize the source of their allies¡¯ distress.
The quartet promptly continued their charge.
Leonidas¡¯ mind shook from the burden that came from weaving his Affinity absent the System¡¯s architecture, but he only gritted his teeth and leaned into his Willpower and Intent. He had been ready for the strain, the pain, and the drain. Even with the four shield-and-sword Hobgoblins charging in, he remained calm, even through the headache even then assailing his mind.
The next step, after all, was crucial.
Ceruviel¡¯s instructions on the matter rippled through his mind while he prepared.
¡°{When you actualize your power, you must mean it, Achilles,}¡± Ceruviel had instructed him with firm, unyielding certainty¡ªafter a thoroughly painful example of what pure psionic force could do when wielded by a master. ¡°{Psi, more than any other Affinity, is solely based on Willpower and Intent. You have learned this well, through your acquisition of [Psionic Swordforce], but you cannot allow that victory to dull your mind to the difficulty of what you are attempting¡ªthat achievement was buoyed by your time in Elatra. Your future ones will not benefit from such familiarity.}¡±
¡°{What do you suggest, then?}¡± he asked instead of arguing, while catching his breath and leaning on his sword.
¡°{Focus not on what you want to happen, but what will happen,}¡± she said intently and with emphasis on the word ¡®will¡¯. ¡°{You must view it not as a question of whether or not you shall acquire the Skill, but instead, as predetermined fate. The System must feel that very conviction within you, and in turn, it shall respond.}¡±
¡°{And what about wielding the Affinity without the System¡¯s framework?}¡± Leonidas had asked with steady consideration. ¡°{Even with [Psionic Swordforce], I had my [Psikinetic Blade] skill to shape.}¡±
¡°{That is why we are training your Willpower, my dear Squire,}¡± Ceruviel had responded with a sly smile. ¡°{You will need every iota of it to resist the backlash the System enforces. If you can succeed, however, you will not only acquire a new skill¡ªyou will begin to build the foundation of your own legend.}¡±
¡°Predetermined¡¡± he muttered while shaping his Willpower around the spellcaster and Archer, and turning his left hand palm up and raising it ¡°...and fated.¡±
Leonidas exhaled and crushed his fingers into a decisive fist.
The System boomed in his mind at the same moment as the two Hobgoblins let out twinned screams of agony, and the charging quartet stumbled to a halt.
Both Spellcaster and Archer had been lifted from the arena when he¡¯d raised his palm, levitating upward from the stone, and drifting five feet into the air rapidly. When Leonidas crushed his fingers, the psionic power gripping them had gone from passive constriction to active compression, and every iota of his power had been focused on a single objective: pure psionic force.
The pair¡¯s arms and legs imploded, and detonated with a sickening staccato chorus of pops and cracks that sent blood, marrow, and viscera spraying out from where the psionic pressure crushed their limbs like bloodied mince ¡®twixt the fingers of a chef.
The crowd exploded into a roar of approval, and chants of ¡°BLACK KNIGHT ACHILLES!¡± filled the stadium.
As for the unfortunate Hobgoblins, only their heads and torsos were spared; permitting them to suffer in agony while being unable to actually threaten him in any way. More than that, it served an additional purpose, one which became clear when the four Hobgoblins that had been charging turned back to him.
Fear.
Leonidas smiled wearily under his helmet and glanced first at his HUD¡¯s resource display, and then at his pending notification.
Health: 240 | Mana: (99) 123 | Stamina: 117 | Psi: 11
40 Psi in return for imploding two sets of four limbs? That worked out to 5 psi per limb, in a rough calculus, or perhaps less if the initial manifestation was¡ª
Leonidas grunted and dismissed the thought mid-stream.
The mathematical value of the power would be revealed once he actually used the skill, not by guessing at potentially arbitrary numerical evidence that the System could choose to alter on a whim.
His attention diverted to the System alert instead, and he retrieved a [Psi Potion] from his [Spatial Storage Ring] while he read it.
Psionic Force
Congratulations, you have unlocked a [Affinity Skill]!
[Rarity]: Rare
[Description]: You have successfully managed to unlock the Skill [Psionic Force], and added it to your list of Affinity Skills. [Psionic Force] allows you to actively influence the world around you through the manipulation of pure Force.
[Effect]: Manipulate Force with the power of your mind
Love what you''re reading? Discover and support the author on the platform they originally published on.
[Cost]: 10 Psi on Activation, with a channel cost of 2 Psi per Second until cancelled
¡°Nice,¡± Leonidas said while unstoppering the [Psi Potion], and using Ceruviel¡¯s training to dismiss his helmet, down the potion in three fast swallows, and resummon his helmet all in the span of five seconds, while the Hobgoblins barked at each other uneasily.
They still hadn¡¯t resumed their advance, though it was unlikely their hesitance would last forever.
¡°WHAT A DISPLAY OF POWER!¡± the announcer shouted excitedly. ¡°THE BLACK KNIGHT DEMONSTRATES IN ONE FELL SWOOP EXACTLY WHAT IT MEANS TO BE SQUIRED TO THE DUSK-LORD OF DAWNHAVEN! EVEN THE TOOFYSTABBAS APPEAR FLUMMOXED!¡±
Flummoxed was one word for it, Leonidas reflected wryly, though he knew better.
It was the fear at work, paired with the shrieking cries of their kin¡ªwho were even then convulsing in shock and horror on the floor of the Arena, and the increased power of his Charisma Attribute amplifying his passive presence to enhance the fear effect. He was in a relatively solid position as well, now that it would be a brawl rather than a multi-faceted contest.
The instant gain of 15 psi was beneficial, but it was not enough for him to wield [Psionic Force] against the Hobgoblins with their current numbers. Luckily, Ceruviel had taught him a trick¡ªone that would hopefully award a second Skill if he was successful. It would not be pleasant, of course, but he had learned that nothing worth doing within the System¡¯s framework ever was.
Well¡ with perhaps some exceptions, if Ceruviel was to be believed.
Head in the game, Ace.
Leonidas shook his head and instead flexed his left hand habitually while his eyes darted between the Hobgoblins. Four remaining, all with swords and shields, and a rapidly growing sense of fury overcoming their fear. It had only been maybe fifteen seconds since he¡¯d devastated their kin, and Leonidas was fully aware that his window of peace was rapidly and imminently closing.
¡°ONE POTION DOWN. WHAT WILL OUR HEADLINER DO NEXT?¡±
Way to goad me, lady. Leonidas thought while turning his gaze onto the Hobgoblins. But she¡¯s right. Time to give them another show.
Momentum and intent melded in the next second and Leonidas took off, once again, to the screaming approval of the watching spectators. His armored sabatons thundered as he moved, and the Hobgoblins barked at one another in an attempt at coordination while Leonidas closed distance and began, at the same time, rapidly cycling his mana within his core.
While he did, he simultaneously worked at finding filaments of psi and drawing them into the churning maelstrom of his cataclysm mana; adding them like seasoning to the storm of power he was creating within the confines of his core. Affinity and Core fused slowly while he worked, forced to coexist in the same way as when he had first cycled his mana, and Leonidas smiled under his helmet.
Step one complete.
The Hobgoblins reacted predictably to his approach and attempted to create a four-man box to capture him in, though Leonidas only smiled grimly at their efforts. The tactic was sound, and against a different opponent, it was the right move: isolate, surround, and destroy. Defeat in detail was a fine choice, in almost every normal scenario. Were he them, he would have done the same.
Sadly for the malicious creatures, he was not a normal opponent.
Leonidas deviated his course at the last minute from the middle-left Hobgoblin to the one on the far right in a sudden focus of his Agility attribute, and surged toward the creature at maximum speed. In his left hand, psionic power coalesced with a roar of his [Cataclysm Core] and formed a [Psikinetic Blade] in the form of a dagger, made from effervescent sparks of scarlet lightning and void-purple energy both.
The creature raised its hide-and-reinforced-wood shield in response.
Leonidas smiled savagely and, with his core singing a hymn of annihilation within him, slammed the conjured weapon into the shield. Cataclysm Mana reacted with the matter of the object, and Leonidas released and mentally ¡®detonated¡¯ the dagger a second after it made impact.
The resulting explosion claimed the Hobgoblin¡¯s arm up to its bicep in a catastrophic detonation of wood, hide, bone, blood, and flesh¡ªand Leonidas weathered it all beneath the encompassing shell of his [Archon¡¯s Warplate]. Instead of being deterred, he moved into the detonations and¡ªshielded with his bonded armor as his aegis¡ªhe pushed his left hand forward to grip the creature¡¯s skull.
Ceruviel¡¯s training kicked in, and Leonidas summoned every iota of his Willpower, harnessing it alongside the raging power of his core and psi melded together. A manifested ¡®blade¡¯ of pure psychokinetic power¡ªentirely mental in nature¡ªwas built and slammed into the Hobgoblin¡¯s skull, piercing past it metaphysically toward the brain and mind within.
¡°Siphon.¡±
The word was thunderous when it left his lips, weighted by both Intent and Willpower, and buoyed by his Charisma to create a command that radiated pure dread. A small whump of power discharged from Leonidas, and his full mental power crashed into the Ego of the Hobgoblin like a battering ram against thin castle gates.
Leonidas¡¯ focus narrowed to a single point, and well aware he only had seconds before he was collapsed on, he willed every iota of his power into a mental image of a consuming black hole: one whose entire purpose was to consume the purple-black psionic energy that lurked untapped in every sapient¡¯s mind, Affinity or no.
The Hobgoblin let out a terrified, gurgling gasp and swung its sword reflexively.
In response, Leonidas severed its sword-arm at the elbow with his [Archon¡¯s Psiblade].
Fear overcame savagery, and he felt¡ªin the form of what he could only call a chime¡ªthe instant the creature¡¯s mind collapsed into surrender, and gave him what he demanded.
Psi flooded into his core in a rush of energy.
In the same moment, another System Alert chimed within his soul.
Leonidas pivoted on his left hand when he felt the onrushing surge of energy and leaned into his Strength Attribute; pulling the Hobgoblin to the left and raising his right foot. His hand released the slack jawed, drooling, and catatonic creature in the same instant as he smashed his right sabaton against its chest and sent it flying toward its kin.
¡°STRIKE!¡± the announcer screamed with enthusiasm.
The Hobgoblin¡¯s rictus expression of terrified impotence, meanwhile, was only slightly shifted into one of pain when it was kicked, and Leonidas felt bone give way under his boot when he sent the creature flying. Hesitation was death in both Elatra and new Earth, and in neither location had such been his nature. Instead of retreating on the back of the Hobgoblin-cum-projectile conversion, he instead advanced.
With another 15 Psi added to his pool, Leonidas didn¡¯t hesitate.
[Psionic Swordforce] coated his Psiblade in the same moment as his [Cataclysm Core] seared and chilled his veins, and added its power to his Skill at his behest.
Scarlet lightning crackled and blazed along the edges of Leonidas¡¯ weapon and he took the fight to the Hobgoblins with single-minded fury, and while throwing caution to the wind. His enemies were clumped together, disorganized, and most importantly: they were afraid.
They were right to be.
¡°ACHILLES IS GOING FOR THE KILL¡¡±
His blade sang as it hewed through the air, and Leonidas took the first Hobgoblin within two seconds of his engagement. The creature, having largely dodged its mutilated companion, raised its sword to deflect his own¡ªand Leonidas sheared through the sharpened, basic steel like a knife through butter. The creature barely had time to widen its malevolent, fearful eyes in surprise before his [Archon¡¯s Psiblade] cleaved through its skull and its flesh detonated from contact with his cataclysm mana.
Brain matter, bone shards, blood, and flesh exploded across Leonidas and the remaining three Hobgoblins in a shower of gore and viscera, and the [Psiarch] grinned under his helmet with bloodthirsty approval, fully in-sync with the raging need to destroy emanating from his core.
¡°...AND HE TAKES ONE DOWN! THREE CRIPPLED, TWO STANDING, FIVE TO GO IN TOTAL!¡±
The remaining two Hobgoblins scrambled to prepare themselves, ignoring the announcer and the raw-throated screams of approval from the crowd while backpedalling away from the headless corpse of their former kinsman.
Leonidas, however, was in no mood to offer them any such recourse.
His left hand rose and he channelled [Psionic Force] into a momentary activation, clenching his fist with visible theatrical flair.
¡°Freeze,¡± he commanded in a carrying voice.
They froze as he bade, restricted by pure Force, and the crowd screamed in approval.
An instant later, Leonidas pushed his Agility Attribute to its limits and surged in close, blitzing from his starting position feet away to near-instantly close distance in a blur of obsidian warplate through the use of his [Chivalric Charge], all while simultaneously bringing his empowered blade to bear. The pair of Hobgoblins¡¯ eyes frantically darted toward his sword, but it was already too late.
Leonidas carved through them like a reaping scythe through wheat, and doubled down on the flow of his cataclysm mana while his coated bastard sword passed through their torsos.
The last pair of standing Hobgoblins exploded in a storm of blood, bone, and viscera and a small, theatrical use of [Psionic Force] sent the gratuitous remains flying away from Leonidas¡ªall signalled by a contemptuous wave of his left hand. His swordforce vanished in the same moment, and Leonidas glanced at his HUD once more.
Health: 240 | Mana: (99) 87 | Stamina: 83 | Psi: 7
Leonidas exhaled a breath and looked from his resources to the insensate Hobgoblin swordsman and the two mewling, pathetic remnants of the spellcaster and archer that still breathed.
His sword lifted to rest on his right pauldron, and he dismissed his helmet with a focussed burst of Willpower.
¡°Honored Announcer!¡± he called toward the booth, and earned the quick dimming of the crowd¡¯s roars.
¡°YES, MIGHTY ACHILLES?¡± the announcer boomed back from her enchanted microphone.
¡°I have a question for the people of Dawnhaven!¡±
A roar from the crowd followed and died, and the announcer was visibly grinning. She definitely appreciated the theatre.
¡°ASK YOUR QUESTION, CONTENDER!¡±
Leonidas dipped his head to the Haelfar woman, and turned his eyes to the crowd.
His arms spread wide.
His lips split into his most charming grin.
¡°PEOPLE OF DAWNHAVEN!¡± he bellowed at them with every iota of his Charisma Attribute in overdrive.
A moment of silence followed, and he let it hang for just long enough before asking his question.
¡°ARE YOU NOT ENTERTAINED?¡±
The responsive roar of approval was like an apocalyptic detonation.
B1 | Chapter 57: Bread and Games
Psionic Siphon
Congratulations, you have unlocked a new [Affinity Skill]!
[Rarity]: Rare
[Description]: You have successfully managed to unlock the Skill [Psionic Siphon], and added it to your list of Affinity Skills. [Psionic Force] allows you to drain Psi from your enemies, once you have weakened their mental defenses. This may only affect a foe once.
[Effect]: Drain Psi from an enemy to fill your reserves
[Cost]: 5 Psi on Activation
Leonidas read over the details of his new skill with quiet approval, reading it while the crowd chanted ¡°ACHILLES! ACHILLES! ACHILLES!¡± and he stood with one foot upon the drooling body of the Hobgoblin whose mind he had drained. He passively cycled his remaining psi, and a measured quantity of his mana, to restore the Stamina he had lost from his brief and explosive demonstration of power. The fight had been excessive, of course, but that had been the point.
His eyes lifted to survey the chanting voices, noting that not every face among the thousands was pleased at a glance, but that the vast majority¡ªHuman, Haelfenn, and otherwise¡ªseemed more than content to scream his name after the dominant performance he had given. This was, of course, one of the most important parts of the match: the executions. Defeating the Hobgoblins in a visible effort would have sufficed, but that did not play into the narrative he and Ceruviel had concocted.
Instead, he had to open his ¡®debut¡¯ with overwhelming force.
Just like he had at the Adventurer¡¯s Guild trials.
Leonidas raised his [Archon¡¯s Psiblade] to once again recognize the adulation of the crowd, and he spread his arms while looking around at them all.
¡°PEOPLE OF DAWNHAVEN!¡± he called in his best vocal projection, ¡°WHAT IS YOUR VERDICT FOR THIS HOBBLED VERMIN?¡±
The ire and vitriol were all part of the show. He needed to win the approval of the Haelfenn, true enough, but he also had to keep the hearts of the Terrans. The Hobgoblins had been part of the tribe that had wiped out an entire settlement of their people¡ªhis people¡ªand that meant retribution would be on the docket. They, however, needed to be part of that process.
They needed to see him as the arbiter of that justice, on their behalf.
¡°DEATH! DEATH! DEATH!¡±
The crowd¡¯s roar of condemnation was loudest from human throats, and Leonidas saw more than a few hateful faces leering down at the creature in the act. Sometimes simplicity was the best form of expression, and he was unsurprised that the humans had taken so easily to the idea of arena executions.
The Colosseum, after all, was a Terran wonder of the world.
Blood sports were in their species¡¯ genetic wiring, like it or not.
Leonidas bowed to the crowd with his arms spread in acquiesce, and his sword was swapped to a reversed grip in his right hand. His Core revved in reply to his call for power when he made it, and mana and psi rippled out of it to infuse the ancient weapon. It was not true [Psionic Swordforce], because his reserves were still too low for that¡ªbut it was an infusion that would do what he needed it to.
Leonidas settled both hands on his sword hilt, and with a theatrical roar, slammed his sword down into the Hobgoblin¡¯s sternum.
Mentally, he stoked his Willpower into a furnace and, while using the psi infused to his weapon as a medium, pushed cataclysm mana into the creature¡¯s body. Leonidas did not merely inject it, he flooded it: surging the chaotic energy into the Hobgoblin over the span of a second. Mana, after all, moved far faster than blood¡ªespecially thanks to its nature.
For good measure, he focused the energy subtly away from him, toward the crowd.
The result, of course, was expected.
The Hobgoblin exploded like he¡¯d been embedded with a plastic explosive.
* * * * *
Aylar leaned forward when Leonidas played to the crowd, and a hum of consideration resonated from her lips. The Princess Royal turned toward Ceruviel, standing nearby at perfect parade rest, and she opened her mouth to speak¡ªonly for the Dusk-Lord to turn toward her with unnerving awareness.
¡°{Yes, your highness?}¡±
Aylar¡¯s words died on her tongue, and she absently let out a sigh at once again being predicted.
¡°{That really is disturbingly uncanny, Duchess Latherian.}¡±
¡°{Your mother thought so, too, though she rarely bothered to voice it.}¡± the steely woman replied mirthlessly. ¡°{It was part of the package of my being in her vicinity, as you will no doubt learn.}¡±
Aylar shook her head in reply and turned her gaze back toward the Arena, gesturing with a bare hand at the carnage below as Leonidas detonated a Hobgoblin to the thunderous approval of the crowd.
¡°{Your Squire is not what I expected,}¡± Aylar said while considering their environment, and choosing her words carefully after a small glance at the nearby Nobles and Dignitaries¡ªseveral of whom were most certainly Blues. ¡°{He plays the crowd like a natural, fights like a man two tiers above his actual capability, and appears to possess incredible magical talents. Even among Haelfenn he would be considered a generational prodigy.}¡±
¡°{I am aware of my Achilles¡¯ strengths, your highness,}¡± the Duchess said in a voice that hinted at limited patience. ¡°{I am simply glad that others are beginning to see them as well, lest loose tongues result in thorough correction sooner rather than later.}¡±
This the Duchess seemed to be addressing to those same persons around them, for Aylar noticed more than one person go unnaturally still, or look very pointedly anywhere but at the Dusk-Lord. The very few brave enough to look at Ceruviel did so with a comical mix of an attempt at impassivity, foiled by their paled complexions.
The fury of the Moonlight Duchess was legendary, after all.
Then again, that was Ceruviel Latherian in a nutshell: an uncompromising, cantankerous force of nature more likely to roll over you than give you time to breathe.
+¡°{Your mother thought the same.}¡±+ the Dusk-Lord said telepathically in a decidedly dry mental voice, and Aylar cursed her errant thoughts.
+¡°{I meant no disrespect, Ceruviel.}¡±+
+¡°{It would take far more than the truth to earn my ire, girl, as you are well aware,}¡±+ Ceruviel responded in what Aylar interpreted as a reassuring sending. +¡°{I can, however, sense that you wish to say something and are being wary of those around us. Consider this is a chance to speak your mind, quite literally so, without the verminous blowhards suckling at your brother¡¯s teat hearing.}¡±+
Aylar struggled to maintain her composure at Ceruviel¡¯s caustic narration of their eavesdroppers, and instead focused on watching Leonidas prowling toward the two prone and brutalized remaining Hobgoblins like a specter of death, coated in viscera, and yet somehow with his face untouched by the gore.
All the while, he continued to cajole and build the mood of the crowd.
+¡°{It has barely been a week since I first met him, and he already seems like a different man. Even the reports of his exploits in the Elite Slayer Trial do not do him justice. Your Squire fights like a veteran of outright warfare, not a Terran freshly take under your wing.}¡±+
Ceruviel turned to glance at her appraisingly when she spoke, and Aylar subconsciously found herself sitting a little straighter in her seat. It would be wrong to call it intimidation or nervousness, for she felt none when facing the Dusk-Lord¡ªit was more akin to disconcerting familiarity.
The Duchess was giving her the same measuring look her mother used to wield.
Given that the two of them were companions for decades, it did make sense.
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+¡°{Achilles has his past, Princess Aylar, as we all do,}¡±+ Ceruviel said at last while turning back to the arena, and leaving the other observers puzzled by the interaction¡ªnot that she, or even Aylar for that matter, cared a whit what they thought. +¡°{I will not divulge his secrets, but I will say that he may be the answer to more than one of your problems.}¡±+ the Duchess said cryptically.
+¡°{I was unaware I had other problems beyond the Rite of Ascension.}¡±+
Aylar¡¯s heart rate grew subtly more intense within her chest, and she felt her [Heroine¡¯s Will] flare to the fore to restrain a surge of concern. Whatever Ceruviel was alluding to, there were only a few possibilities, and if she was speaking about using Achilles for what Aylar suspected¡
A steadying breath entered her lungs, and she exhaled to ground herself.
¡No. Ceruviel would not wield her apprentice that way. She was ruthless, but using Achilles to assassinate her brother¡¯s loyalists was beyond the pale for the rigidly chivalric Duchess. It would certainly be helpful, but Aylar wasn¡¯t sure she could condone it herself, let alone a woman of Ceruviel¡¯s integrity.
She was spared further supposition by the Duchess¡¯ continued telepathy.
+¡°{You have a fanciful imagination, Aylar, but you are correct: I would not use my Squire that way,}¡±+ Ceruviel clarified, much to Aylar¡¯s relief. +¡°{However,}¡±+ the Duchess continued, +¡°{when I am done with Achilles, there will be nobody in Dawnhaven that can stand against him¡ªmyself, Sinalthria, and Uriel, perhaps, being the exceptions. I do not intend on simply making him a glorified soldier of the Duskguard.}¡±+
Aylar¡¯s eyebrows rose at Ceruviel¡¯s words, and her curiosity was wordlessly broadcasted.
+¡°{I intend on making Achilles the first Terran Archon.}¡±+
Aylar had expected any number of things to come from Ceruviel when she offered to explain her intentions, but of all the things she had believed, that had not been one of them. The Archon Order had vanished from Altera long before Aylar had been born, but their legends persisted. She knew that Ceruviel was part of the Order, or at least, had inherited it by default after training under the Level 97 Grandmaster of the Order, the Last Archon of Altera.
She did not expect that to be her goal, however, especially not with a Terran.
+¡°{Making him an Archon?}¡±+ Aylar responded in a mental voice that was embarrassingly open in its shock, awe, and trepidation. +¡°{Doing that would upset the balance of Dawnhaven irreparably! If he inherited the teachings of the Order, especially starting from the foundation of an Untempered, Achilles¡¯ growth would be terrifying. Even if he never reached beyond Fifth Tier, as the majority of Terrans we have tested seem bottlenecked to by the Assessor, he¡¯d¡ª}¡±+
+¡°{Achilles¡¯ potential was already read by the Assessor as is protocol, Aylar,}¡±+ Ceruviel cut in before she could finish. +¡°{He is estimated to reach Ninth Tier at the minimum.}¡±+
Aylar felt her stomach drop at Ceruviel¡¯s sending, and it was only a mix of [Heroine¡¯s Will] and her [Princess Royal] title¡¯s passive corrections of slips in decorum that allowed her to avoid either slumping in her chair or shouting invectives of denial. Ninth Tier?
Her eyes snapped back fully to the Terran Knight, who was even then pressing his armored palm against the head of the shrieking Hobgoblin spellcaster, and doing something that had the creature spasming and frothing blood and spittle. Her imagination went into overdrive, and she pictured him doing that to those among the nobility who opposed him¡ªto Earl Brightblade, or Mernyn, Leona, and the rest of the Royal Guard, or any other number of people.
System forfend, the man could just decide to flatten Dawnhaven with his mind!
+¡°{You are creating a weapon you cannot hope to control, Dusk-Lord.}¡±+ Aylar said in a mental sending that was, to her relief, far stronger than the jelly her knees had become. +¡°{Giving Achilles¡ªa complete stranger and a Terran!¡ªthat much power is suicidal!}¡±+
+¡°{The alternative is exiling him and hoping someone ends him before he returns for revenge, if he is so inclined¡ªor executing him myself,}¡±+ Ceruviel said simply to her in response. +¡°{I am not idiotic enough to even entertain the former, and I am already committed to the latter should I detect a discernible kernel of possibility that he is becoming a threat to Dawnhaven and its people.}¡±+
+¡°{Why are you telling me this?}¡±+ Aylar asked instead of arguing with her, while realizing the entire discourse was strange. +¡°{Surely you knew it would alarm me. Why? Why now?}¡±+
+¡°{Because you are about to spend a great amount of time with him, Aylar, and trust him to watch your back,}¡±+ the Duchess replied in her steely, unruffled mental voice. +¡°{More than that, you will be Queen of Dawnhaven. If you are to walk that path, you must be aware of every variable¡ªand every option available to you.}¡±+
Aylar¡¯s brows furrowed faintly at the Duchess¡¯ words, and her gaze flicked to Ceruviel in question for a moment. Beyond using Achilles as an ally through which to eliminate her political opposition, Aylar didn¡¯t see any other¡ª
Unbidden, a memory came to her of a discourse she had once had with her mother, during her early years as a teen.
¡°{Archons, hm? Why are you asking me about them, my sun?}¡±
¡°{Because Duchess Latherian is an Archon, and father said that she is superlatively powerful, even more so than people entire tiers above her!}¡±
¡°{He did, did he?}¡± the Heroine-Queen asked with a warm laugh. ¡°{Well, that is true enough. Archons possess power that is far beyond their given tier. I would put Ceruviel among the strongest individuals on Altera, in fact.}¡±
¡°{Do you suppose she would train me, mother?}¡±
Aylar had looked at her mother with hope, and the Queen had smiled at her sadly, while reaching out to brush some errant strands of hair out of Aylar¡¯s eyes.
¡°{If only it were so easy as to desire it, my love. Did you know that Ceruviel is the last Archon to be initiated on Altera?}¡±
¡°{No. Father never mentioned it,}¡± Aylar had replied with a frown, ¡°{why is she the last?}¡±
Even as a young woman she had hated being told she couldn¡¯t do something, as if the denial was a refutation of her persistence; but she at least knew her mother would explain the why of it.
¡°{There is a very specific, very rare Alpha combination needed for Archons, my darling, and even among the strongest of our people; few are born with the aptitudes for all four. Affinity, Archetype, Ambition, and Aspect must all align if someone is be considered¡ªand their potential matters as well, for Archons require considerable power to pass all their rites.}¡±
¡°{Which Alphas?}¡± Aylar had persisted.
The Heroine-Queen had laughed, but she had answered regardless.
¡°{A Psi Affinity, a Knight Archetype, an Ambition no less than a High Noble, and the Aspect of a Duelist.}¡±
Aylar¡¯s eyes had darted to her sheet at that, and she¡¯d had an immediate moment of crestfallen realization. ¡°{My Affinity and Ambition are wrong,}¡± she had lamented, ¡°{even though my Archetype and Aspect are correct.}¡±
¡°{We all have our own paths to walk, dearest. The Archon Order was once the greatest on Altera¡ªbut they are now little more than a memory of older, more dangerous times. Give them your respect, but do not lament your inability to join them. It is unlikely another shall ever appear again.}¡±
¡°{What if one did?}¡± Aylar had asked finally.
¡°{Hm¡}¡± the Heroine-Queen had hummed, trailing off while looking toward the sunlight streaming through the windows. Her hands, calloused from centuries of swordmaiden arts, had subtly flexed in a way Aylar had come to recognize as subconscious wariness. ¡°{If that is the case,}¡± her mother had said in a voice that was quietly solemn, ¡°{then I wager that person would shake the world.}¡±
Aylar¡¯s eyes widened in recollection, and she felt her [Heroine¡¯s Will] flare to life once more. The memory had been poignant, but its most potent element had not been her mother¡¯s final words on the matter¡ªit had been the narration of an Archon¡¯s required Alphas.
+¡°{What is his Ambition, Ceruviel?}¡±+
+¡°{That, Aylar, you must find out for yourself,}¡±+ the Duchess told her in a mental tone that Aylar recognized as utterly uncompromising. +¡°{But know this: fear has been the undoing of many would-be rulers. Achilles may be a threat, yes, if improperly approached and improperly treated¡ªbut he may also be a loyal and dedicated ally. Consider this my test to you, to see if you truly are the Haelfar your mother believed you to be.}¡±+
Aylar took a breath to control her rising concern, and responded Ceruviel as levelly as she could.
+¡°{And what test is that, Duchess Latherian?}¡±+ she asked as civilly as possible.
+¡°{This world is not Altera. This city is not Eldormer,}¡±+ Ceruviel began with a tone that told Aylar it was very much an intentional reminder, though for what purpose she could not yet discern. +¡°{Bring Achilles to your side, your highness,}¡±+ the Dusk-Lord continued steadily, +¡°{and in doing so, prove you have what it takes to rule Dawnhaven, all of Dawnhaven. Only then will I consider you worthy of the Crown your mother wished for you in truth.}¡±+
Aylar turned her eyes back to Achilles, who was even then¡ªafter detonating the last two Hobgoblins to the roar of the crowd¡ªwas walking back toward the portcullis leading to his between-matches ready room, followed by ceaseless chanting of his name from rapturous throats.
"ACHILLES! ACHILLES! ACHILLES!"
Bring him to my side, huh? Aylar considered with a furrow of her elegant brows.
"ACHILLES! ACHILLES! ACHILLES!"
Achilles would have to become her ally, it seemed, one way or another.
"ACHILLES! ACHILLES! ACHILLES!"
Ceruviel had made it clear that failure was not an option.
* * * * *
+¡°{Well done, Achilles,}¡±+ Ceruviel sent while he was walking away from the executed Hobgoblins amid the chanting of the crowd. +¡°{You made an excellent first impression. What comes next will be harder, but if you remember your training, you will rise above. Did this battle yield dividends?}¡±+
Leonidas glanced at his character sheet at Ceruviel¡¯s words, and the grin on his face as he waved to the crowd while he walked only grew more sincere.
6,350 / 8,000 XP
+¡°{It did. I am less than two thousand experience from level nine, and I gained both [Psionic Force] and [Psionic Siphon].}¡±+ he reported with a pleased tone. Ceruviel¡¯s guidance and lessons had paid off remarkably, and every bit of the hell-week he¡¯d endured had been worth it. If all went according to plan, he would be a different person when the arena¡¯s events were concluded.
+¡°{I am glad to hear it,}¡±+ Ceruviel said with genuine approval as he entered the shadow of the tunnel. +¡°{I will not join you in your intermission this time, but remember: you have two more matches today, and then three more tomorrow. Your next one will test you, quite extremely, but you will triumph if you harness your new abilities. You remember step two, I hope?}¡±
+¡°{I do. Force and Siphon were step one, and step two will be completing the required trinity for the Fusion.}¡±+
+¡°{Good, then I will leave you in Tarnys¡¯ worried care until your next match. Remember to meditate and equalize your energy. You will need every ounce of it for your next match.}¡±+
+¡°{You almost sound worried, Ceruviel.}¡±+ Leonidas sent back with a wry tone.
+¡°{I have just invested a substantial amount into you, Achilles.}¡±+ the Duchess replied dryly. +¡°{I simply hope to see a return on the most recent gamble.}¡±+
+¡°{I hope you picked a reliable bet.}¡±+ he responded glibly.
+¡°{Oh don¡¯t worry, Achilles,}¡±+ Ceruviel said in a voice that sounded genuinely amused, +¡°{I think we will both enjoy the payout if this particular bet succeeds.}¡±+
Ceruviel¡¯s presence vanished from his mind after her final sending, and Leonidas furrowed his brows in consideration. Her words had seemed normal, but there was an edge of laughter to the Dusk-Lord¡¯s message that he recalled to coincide with her plotting something.
He let out an aggrieved sigh.
Ceruviel was playing games again, but he had no time to waste worrying about it.
His eyes found Tarnys when he strode past the open portcullis, and he nodded to the Haelfar, who looked his gore-splattered warplate over with a grimace¡ªone that drew a wry smile from Leonidas.
Whatever Ceruviel was plotting, he reasoned, it was pointless worrying.
He had a second match to focus on winning.
B1 | Chapter 58: A Knights Tale
Leonidas slammed down onto the bench within the Duskguard locker room with a thud, and leaned his head back against the metal of the lockers themselves with a low sigh of contentment. His first match had been wrapped up, and other than some blood and viscera¡ªthings he was largely desensitized to, for better or worse, at that point¡ªcoating his armor; he had emerged largely unscathed.
In fact, he hadn¡¯t even lost a point of Health, which was strangely hilarious.
His eyes roamed the interior of the space and, just as before, the familiarity it raised in relation to his memories of the Royal Palace at Veleros brought a smile to his lips. Elatra may or may not have been real, he still wasn¡¯t quite certain; but he did know the experience was real to him¡ªand that meant the nostalgia was as well.
He distantly noticed the door to the room opening, but did not pay it any heed.
¡°{You seem at ease,}¡± Tarnys said a moment later after entering once more, having opened the room for Leonidas earlier before leaving to check on something. ¡°{If I didn¡¯t know better, Achilles, I¡¯d say you looked peaceful.}¡± the Lance-Master jested good-naturedly. He had warmed considerably since their first meeting, what seemed like an age ago¡ªdespite the alarmingly small amount of actual time that had passed.
¡°{I feel a certain measure of contentment here, Tarnys, for reasons I would struggle to grant insight into,}¡± Leonidas answered with an armored shrug while focusing on the Haelfar. ¡°{To be candid, I am simply pondering the benefits and negatives of dousing my armor in one of the showers to divest it of these putrid entrails.}¡±
Tarnys raised his eyebrows at Leonidas¡¯ words and frowned.
¡°{Why not simply dismiss and resummon your warplate?}¡±
A moment passed in silence between them, and then Leonidas cursed.
¡°{I completely forgot I could do that! That means I could shower, too.}¡±
Tarnys laughed in response.
¡°{You have thirty minutes left in your one hour intermission. Best be on with it.
Leonidas did not need telling twice, and with a focused exertion of will, he dismissed his [Archon¡¯s Warplate] to wherever it lurked during the times he did not wear it¡ªsome sort of pocket reality, so he understood it, that it would remain within until summoned.
The fact it was essentially self-cleaning in that way was outstanding.
¡°{Let me know if anything happens,}¡± Leonidas said to Tarnys while standing and already working to pull off the shirt he had worn under his warplate, while striding toward one of the showers in the ready-room.
¡°{I shall. Would you like me to give you a ten minute warning?}¡± the Haelfar asked casually.
¡°{That would be great, Tarnys, thank you,}¡± Leonidas agreed with a nod while his mind shifted automatically toward beginning to cycle his mana for active meditation. ¡°{See you in twenty minutes.}¡±
¡°{Enjoy the reprieve, Achilles.}¡± Tarnys said casually, and turned to step outside once more as Leonidas made his way toward the shower, and within it, a much needed moment of refreshment.
* * * * *
¡°{Personally, I thought it was rather barbaric,}¡± commented Lady Vasht, a tanned blonde noblewoman of low status but considerable wealth, thanks to her shrewd mind for trade and eye for textiles.
She stood in a corner of the Arena¡¯s elite entertaining hall, a mix between a rectangular ballroom and a miniature throne room¡ªthough the throne was, for evident reasons, draped in neutral white and unoccupied at the present moment.
¡°{Of course it was. He is Terran,}¡± responded Baron Malerias with a shake of his black-haired head and a look of disdain upon his effeminate features, ¡°{and a vagrant to boot. I heard from the Dawnguard, in fact, that the Dusk-Lord took him in after one of her soldiers found him wandering the wilds of all places. It is abhorrent!}¡±
¡°{Mind that the Moonlight Duchess does not hear that, my lord,}¡± cautioned Ser Dareon of House Tremblaine, a svelte brunette that was actually part of the Dawnguard. ¡°{Her Grace is rather protective of her charge, from all reports. It would be a mistake to let her hear you denigrating him so openly.}¡±
¡°{Oh pish posh, Ser Tremblaine,}¡± laughed Lady Vasht¡¯s partner-in-scandal, the raven-haired and snow-skinned Dowager Baroness Theia of House Ithariel. ¡°{The Duchess hardly cares for the whispers of we civilians,}¡± she emphasized with a sneer, ¡°{and openly derides us as parasites on a regular basis, if reports are to be believed. Nevermind that she has yet to produce any sort of suitable Heir for House Latherian, or what remains of it.}¡±
¡°{I heard she sterilized herself when she became an Archon,}¡± Lady Vasht said conspiratorially, and drew more than one extra pair of ears toward their discourse.
¡°{I heard she actually had a son, without even the most casual of breeding contracts, and he died on Altera¡ªthat¡¯s why the Heroine-Queen sent her to Terra,}¡± Baroness Ithariel said with a wiggle of her dark eyebrows. ¡°{It was to get the moody shrew out of the palace in Eldormer.}¡±
¡°{Truly?}¡± a new voice cut in amid the group¡¯s gossip curiously. ¡°{And here I thought she was sent because the Heroine-Queen recognized that only someone of her caliber could be trusted to shepherd the settlement and keep it safe.}¡±
¡°{Now that is precious,}¡± Baron Malerias said while turning toward the source of the voice, ¡°{and I would love to know who told y¡ª?}¡±
The words died in a strangled squeak very much in line with his feminine appearance.
Lady Vasht and Baroness Ithariel turned as well, only to blanch in equal fright upon spotting their newest conversation partner.
¡°{Y-Your Highness!}¡± Baroness Ithariel stuttered, while dropping into a curtsy. ¡°{We did not notice you had¡ª}¡±
¡°{The advantage of this hall,}¡± Aylar replied in a voice that was equal parts casual and cutting, ¡°{is that I can move among a crowd unfettered by concern over bowing and scraping, owing to the traditional expectation of informality within an Arena chamber¡¯s confines.}¡±
¡°{A-ah. Yes, I suppose that would make sense,}¡± Lady Vasht answered while licking her lips. ¡°{I hope you will not take our silly chattering too seriously, Princess? Just idle talk, is all it was. Nothing worth repeating to¡ª}¡±
¡°{Duchess Latherian?}¡± Aylar guessed with an imperious arch of her right eyebrow. ¡°{Yes, I imagine that would have horrible consequences. Even with the Dusk-Lord departed until the end of the intermission to confer with the Dawn-Lord, she would no doubt be quite incensed to hear such crude and ignorant supposition about her private life.}¡±
All three nobles blanched again at Aylar¡¯s words, and Ser Tremblaine simply observed neutrally. He had not, after all, technically done anything wrong¡ªhe had simply permitted the badmouthing, he had not joined in himself.
To Aylar, it was barely better, and she would have expected far better of one of Duke Aventus¡¯ Knights¡ªbut she also acknowledged that, like many of the Dawnguard, Ser Tremblaine was very likely a staunch Blue; and thereby ideologically and politically opposed to both Aylar and Ceruviel.
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How they rationalized their loyalty to Uriel Aventus, despite his unspoken but clear support for Aylar over Braedon, was a quagmire she had no interest in wading into. That was a mess best left to the Dawn-Lord to sort out.
¡°{Of course, your highness,}¡± Baroness Ithariel said quickly, ¡°{we understand entirely what you are saying. We will be, ah, much more mindful of ourselves in future. Gossip truly is a terrible thing, after all.}¡±
Both Lady Vasht and Baron Malerias uttered their profound agreement and concurrence with the Baroness¡¯ statement, and Aylar fought back the disparaging sneer that wanted to curl her lips. The three of them were not worth staining her decorum over.
¡°{I am glad to hear it,}¡± she said instead with a cool, but magnanimous nod. ¡°{I must continue my rounds, but it was lovely to see you three again,}¡± she continued while looking toward Ser Tremblaine, ¡°{and I am sure the Dawn-Lord will be pleased to hear his Dawnguard are being so diligent in their observations, Ser Tremblaine. Why, were it not for your luminous badge, I may not have noticed you at all given your remarkable lack of presence.}¡±
The Knight stiffened visibly at Aylar¡¯s words, and all three nobles side-eyed him with glee they failed to hide at the obvious castigation¡ªthough all the Haelfar did in response was incline his head to Aylar woodenly. She had phrased it, after all, as a compliment; and his station was too far below her own to challenge her words.
The Princess offered the quartet one final perfunctory smile, and then departed.
Slack-brained sycophantic gossiping parasites. Aylar fumed mentally while her [Princess Royal] effects kept her expression regal and cordial as she moved through the space. After everything the Dusk-Lord does for Dawnhaven, they have the nerve to speak so poorly of her somewhere others can overhear? Outrageous!
The nobles themselves weren¡¯t the source of it, though, Aylar knew.
They were certainly part of the problem, and they had their own measure of responsibility for the breakdown in decorum impacting each level of Dawnhaven¡¯s social fabric¡ªbut the behavior, foul and repulsive as it was, was just a symptom of a larger infection within her new homeland.
The Princess nodded to Leona when the Guardswoman discretely nodded toward the passage leading back to the Royal Box, and shifted her movement to beeline for it. It was always better to leave early, in order to avoid the necessary social engagements that were spawned by encountering nobles in the passageway.
Braedon is at the heart of this. Aylar ruminated darkly while veering toward the exit back out to the Royal Box. The moment he escaped father¡¯s grip, he let his worst instincts come to the fore, even after our parents warned him about the necessities of cohabitation and integration.
Her brother was not an evil person. Aylar knew that fundamentally, because she knew Braedon. She had known him since infancy, and for all that her brother might be intolerant and aggressively proud, he also loved¡ªtruly, fully, and completely¡ªthe legacy and traditions of their people. His bigotry was based in pride and a lifelong aggrandizement, not pure malice. It did not excuse his behavior, but for Aylar, it certainly made things frustratingly more complicated.
She did not have the luxury of simply hating her baby brother and wanting him dead.
System forfend I ever stoop to that, though I cannot deny it would be easier.
She wondered if her other siblings were missing her as much as she missed them at that moment, and then banished the thought before it could take root. There was nothing positive to be gained from that line of consideration¡ªit would only result in an emotional down spiral she could ill afford.
The Princess nodded to her guards when they formed up at her appearance in the passageway, and took a steadying breath while behind the wall of golden warplate.
For now, she needed to focus on observing Achilles, and determining how best to bring the Dusk-Lord¡¯s clearly favored student to her side. Ceruviel seemed certain that her Rite of Ascension would succeed¡ªwhich meant that her immediate concerns following it would be stability and order within Dawnhaven. To ensure that, she needed contingencies, not just for anything rash that Braedon might attempt, but for random elements as well.
Random elements like the Ninth Tier potentiate being nurtured by her closest ally.
Aylar sighed through her nose while walking back toward the Royal Box.
Sometimes, it really was a pain in the ass being the future Queen.
* * * * *
Leonidas stood before the portcullis into the arena showered, watered, and overall refreshed¡ªhis warplate clean and in place, and his psiblade thrumming in his hand. His cycling had taken care of his fatigue, his resources had fully regenerated, and he had taken the time to fully acclimate to the new abilities in his possession.
Once again standing near the portcullis itself while leaning against the wall, Tarnys glanced at him.
¡°{Did Her Grace shed any light on what you can expect?}¡±
¡°{No, she seemed to be intentionally vague,}¡± Leonidas said while maintaining the steady cycle of his cataclysm mana and psi, while balancing the output of his [Cataclysm Core]. ¡°{Were I to guess, I would wager she wished me to face the challenge and overcome on mine own merit.}¡±
¡°{That would be consistent with her preferred method of operation,}¡± Tarnys agreed while turning back toward the portcullis. ¡°{Even the Announcer seems quiet. I wonder why?}¡±
¡°{Tension,}¡± Leonidas answered with a shrug, ¡°{and likely by command. I doubt either of us would be surprised to learn that Ceruviel bade her to not give me any hints about what is coming.}¡±
¡°{True¡}¡± Tarnys murmured with a faint furrow of his brows.
Leonidas suppressed a faint smile at how obvious the Haelfar was, and a few moments later, Tarnys spoke once more.
¡°{You do not think she will blame me if you were grievously hurt in the Arena, do you?}¡±
¡°{No, Tarnys,}¡± Leonidas said wryly and with a barely-suppressed laugh to follow, ¡°{I very much doubt she would hold you accountable for that.}¡±
The elf nodded slowly at Leonidas¡¯ words, and then blinked at the illumination of the magitech veins across the portcullis¡¯ surface.
¡°{It appears our time is once again at an end,}¡± the Haelfar said while stepping away from the wall, and knocking his fingers against Leonidas¡¯ breastplate. ¡°{Best of luck, Achilles. We will be cheering for you.}¡±
Leonidas nodded to the other man once, and when the portcullis rose, stepped out of the yawning maw of the shadowed tunnel and into the light of the arena once more.
Thunderous roars greeted him when he showed himself, and Leonidas raised his sword in greeting alongside his left hand; waving the latter and holding the fomer straight and proud in salute to the crowd. The chanting chorus of ¡°ACHILLES! ACHILLES! ACHILLES!¡± filled the air, and he let himself openly laugh in delight at the chanting.
Even on Elatra, he had never experienced anything quite like this.
He felt like a Gladiator out of an old movie, or an underdog Knight in a romance.
¡°AND ACHILLES RETURNS TO A LOVING CROWD. WHAT A SIGHT TO BEHOLD!¡± the announcer boomed into her microphone, while the chanting continued apace across the arena.
¡°UNLIKE OUR FIRST MATCH, WE ALREADY KNOW THE CAPABILITIES OF OUR CONTENDER¡ªBUT FOR THOSE THAT MAY ONLY JUST BE JOINING US, ALLOW ME TO OFFER YOU INSIGHT INTO THE DEEDS OF THE BLACK KNIGHT OF THE ADVENTURERS¡¯ GUILD!¡±
Leonidas shook his head and smirked at the woman¡¯s words, and prepared himself to settle in for a truncated but still-lengthy retelling, insofar as the Arena was concerned¡ªright up until a savage BOOM shook the ground.
His eyes snapped across the arena toward the furthest portcullis from his own, and his eyebrows shot up as another BOOM rocked the earth. The Announcer¡¯s voice came through clearly, especially now that the crowd had fallen from cheers into loud murmurs of confusion.
¡°IT APPEARS, LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, THAT THE INTRODUCTION WILL HAVE TO¡ª¡±
Another BOOM drowned out even the announcer, and Leonidas had the good instincts to summon his helmet in a flash of scarlet energy¡ªjust before an explosion of steel and wood erupted from the other tunnel.
That isn¡¯t a magitech portcullis. Leonidas realized at the same moment as a massive, shadowy shape stormed free of the tunnel.
When the unknown creature emerged into the light, he very nearly swore.
The sound of hissing drowned out everything, and the crowd let out gasps and screams of shock at the sight that greeted them. Dark, wine-purple scales glinted in the mid-morning sun, attached to a body large enough to rival an elephant. Seven massive serpentine heads grew from a quadrupedal center mass, with a long tail girded by razor fins forming a spearhead at its zenith.
Seven pairs of eyes locked onto Achilles as another chorus of furious hisses filled the air.
The Announcer, even, seemed stunned when she spoke.
¡°LADIES AND GENTLEMEN OF DAWNHAVEN, IT APPEARS WE HAVE A¡ A SPECIAL SURPRISE FOR THE SECOND TITLE MATCH! ACHILLES, SQUIRE OF THE DUSK-LORD, AND BLACK KNIGHT OF THE ADVENTURERS¡¯ GUILD WILL FACE OFF AGAINST A HYDRA!¡±
Leonidas darted a glance toward the Royal Box, and saw Ceruviel watching him with unblinking and cold focus.
She said nothing, but she did not need to.
Leonidas locked his jaw, and turned back toward the Hydra.
¡°Alright then,¡± he declared while [Psionic Swordforce] ignited across his psiblade, and his Core revved to life in his chest, ¡°game on, you son of a bitch.¡±
The Hydra charged with an enraged hiss, and the crowd went mad.
B1 | Chapter 59: Arena Combat, Hydra I
Leonidas dodged around a snapping head with every iota of his Agility Attribute in overdrive. Hisses and snarls from the Hydra¡¯s heads filled his ears, and he felt his [Psionic Focus] working in overdrive to maintain his extrasensory spatial awareness relative to the septuple-threat creature he was in contest with.
His advantages were easy enough to note: he was faster, smaller, and more agile than the Hydra. Conversely, the creature was tougher, stronger, and had more avenues of attack thanks to its myriad heads.
Its tail, as well, was a concern; for even a single hit from its razored edges would likely result in grievous injury¡ªeven with the protection of his [Archon¡¯s Warplate] to safeguard his body.
How in the hell anyone thought a Hydra was an equitable matchup was beyond him.
Two more attacks came from the left and right as Leonidas closed distance and he launched himself off his feet, trusting both in his enhanced spatial awareness and his elevated flexibility to dodge between a pair of snapping heads and land in a rough combat roll near the Hydra¡¯s stomping feet.
The creature¡¯s heads rotated to track him and Leonidas darted close to its body, lifting his [Archon¡¯s Psiblade] and cleaving into the side of the Hydra with a swordforce-assisted strike.
The crowd roared its approval.
Seven heads hissed in pained unison, and Leonidas darted backward and threw himself over a reflexive tail-swipe¡ªlistening to the air whine from the force and speed of the attack, and then landing upon the arena floor with a crash of steel against stone.
Move, damn it, move!
His body was already responding while he raged at himself, and Leonidas threw himself to his feet to gain distance while looking back at the results of his attack. As expected, his use of [Psionic Swordforce] had cut cleanly through the Hydra¡¯s scales¡ªbut the damage, despite the blow, was negligible.
Or rather, it was already healing.
What blood he¡¯d spilled, shining faintly with threads of bioluminescent green liquid, was already drying while the creature¡¯s wound started to steam and close while he watched. He had certainly pissed off the not-so-mythical creature, but actually harming it would be far harder than just striking it with his [Archon¡¯s Psiblade].
His [Cataclysm Core] roared within his solar plexus, and he smiled grimly.
Good thing I have another weapon to try, then.
Leonidas continued to sprint to gain distance, and summoned a [Psi Potion] from his [Spatial Storage Ring]. His eyes remained locked on the Hydra, which was even then lumbering around to chase him with angry hisses of hatred, and he slammed up his helmet¡¯s visor. Instead of risking de-summoning his helmet, he simply tore the cork of the potion out with his teeth and sucked it down while keeping his helmet in place.
His psi ticked back up to almost full¡ªbarring the passive drain of his swordforce¡ªand Leonidas tossed the potion bottle back into his storage ring.
The energy of his [Cataclysm Core] could probably impede the Hydra¡¯s healing, he reasoned, but to what extent was unknown. Would it explode violently on contact with the creature¡¯s physiology, like it had with the Hobgoblins and Hive Tyrant?
The chances were high, but he needed certainty. He also couldn¡¯t risk outright destroying one of the heads, lest it spawn two or even three more.
If I can¡¯t cut them off, he reasoned while turning to face the charging Hydra, perhaps I can kill them while leaving them in-tact.
One good stab could, in theory, kill a single head.
The hard part, of course, was landing the blow.
Each of the Hydra¡¯s heads was as large as a rottweiler, even ignoring the necks, and were attached to a body large enough to rival a bull elephant.
Before any of that, though, he needed to confirm the effect of his mana¡ªand calm the hell down.
Leonidas exhaled slowly to steady his racing heart, and worked to quickly center himself the way Ceruviel had taught him as the Hydra bore down on him; each of its footsteps rattling the earth. Dust and loose pebbles quivered on the stone beneath its titanic weight, and the acrid stench of its bioluminescent blood still lingered in the air¡ªa scorching, chemical tang that burned his nostrils.
¡°That is just fucking disgusting¡¡± he muttered while cycling his mana and psi.
He gripped his [Archon¡¯s Psiblade] tighter and, when the Hydra crossed within a dozen yards of him, surged forward¡ªangling his charge toward the Hydra¡¯s left flank. He picked the spot due to its opposition to the first attack he¡¯d landed, while hoping to deceive the malicious intellect he saw gleaming in its multitudinous sets of eyes.
The creature did not fail to notice his attempt to close.
Two of the Hydra¡¯s heads hissed in response to his charge, lunging toward him in a coordinated strike.
Leonidas sidestepped the first, ducked under the second, and then snapped up his left hand to conjure a wall of [Psionic Force] in front of a sneaking third strike. When the tertiary head impacted it, he felt his psi drop precipitously in response, and saw the creature¡¯s head smash into the wall of compressed power hard enough to bloody its nose and send it cross-eyed.
¡°Yeah!¡± he called impulsively as he put on speed, ¡°go fuck yourself, scaley!¡±
The crowd roared and laughed its approval of his words, and even the announcer let out a cackle of approval.
¡°IT APPEARS THE BLACK KNIGHT REMAINS UNDAUNTED!¡± she cajoled, while her grin was audible. ¡°LET US SEE HOW LONG THAT LASTS!¡±
The Hydra roared in rage at Leonidas, and it was already repositioning to give its heads the right angle to attack.
He took advantage of his superior mobility while he still could.
[Chivalric Charge] activated in a burst of motion, and he surged forward in a blur and whomp of displaced space.
Leonidas¡¯ Strength Attribute met his Agility the moment his charge ended, and he launched himself up and forward while leaning into his Dexterity to guide his hands. Two seconds later, he impaled his sword into the Hydra¡¯s left shoulder joint, driving the amethyst glow of his [Archon¡¯s Psiblade] deep into its flesh in a spray of blood; both vital red and luminescent emerald.
The response was instantaneous.
The Hydra¡¯s heads shrieked¡ªa high-pitched, almost grating chorus of pain that tore from its serpentine throats as if it had been struck by lightning.
¡°Eat this, you fucking monster,¡± Leonidas spat at the same time as his [Cataclysm Core] snarled to full power within him, and he unleashed his mana through his weapon.
He felt the exact moment his core¡¯s power reacted with the monster¡¯s biology.
A magmatic eruption of destructive power radiated outward from the point of impact, racing through the Hydra¡¯s body with visible corrosion, like veins of wildfire in dry timber.
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Its wound didn¡¯t just bleed¡ªit burned. Acrid, sulfuric smoke erupted from around his sword, and Leonidas hacked a cough around the overwhelming stench.
Thick, dark-purple scales and lilac flesh blackened around the cut as if charred by invisible flames, and the wound, which had only seconds earlier been steaming in preparation to close; abruptly stopped healing altogether.
The bioluminescent glow in its exposed muscle and sinew flickered, dimming like a fading glow stick, before extinguishing completely.
Leonidas left his sword impaled in the Hydra and scrambled up its hide, fully aware that its thrashing screams of agony would only distract it for so long. He grit his teeth, sprinted across its body, and leaped from its back with windmilling arms to crash into the arena floor with a loss of ten health, and a sharp pain in his ankle the System cheerfully informed him was a minor sprain.
Behind him, he could hear the Hydra still screaming while simultaneously trying to reposition to chase after him.
The crowd¡¯s collective gasp, meanwhile, turned into a rolling wave of cheers as realization set in and he sailed free of the giant beast¡¯s back.
He wasn¡¯t just hurting the Hydra.
He was denying it its most terrifying advantage.
¡°ACHILLES STRIKES TRUE!¡± the Announcer boomed, her voice crackling with excitement. ¡°LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, AGAINST ALL ODDS, HE¡¯S DONE IT! I HAVE NO IDEA WHAT THE DUSK-LORD HAS BEEN TEACHING HIM, BUT AN UNTEMPERED JUST LANDED A LASTING HIT ON A TIER TWO HYDRA!¡±
The Hydra was furious now¡ªits movements less measured, and far more erratic. The loss of its natural healing had driven it into a blind frenzy. It also packed on the speed; seemingly abandoning a measured approach out of sheer, animal rage at the wound. One of its heads was attempting to snatch at the sword hilt awkwardly impaled in one of the few spots it couldn¡¯t easily reach, and the rest were fixed on him with murderous intensity that burned within his [Psionic Focus].
He barely had time to process that realization before the tail came for him.
His spatial awareness screamed a warning a split second before impact, and Leonidas threw himself sideways and conjured a [Psionic Shield] just as the bladed tip of the Hydra¡¯s tail slammed into the barrier, shattered it, and then glanced off his side.
He felt something inside of him crack.
BOOM.
The impact of its tail cracked the arena floor, sending deep fissures spider webbing outward like broken glass. Stone chunks erupted from the ground, raining dust and debris across the mini-colosseum as the crowd gasped and shrieked in fear of the creature¡¯s fury.
Leonidas, meanwhile, was sent hurtling across the arena just from the power of the glancing blow, and barely had time to protect his head before he smashed into the stone near the center of the arena. Metal screeched and his body screamed in protest to the rolling, tumbling, and multitudinous impacts from the sheer force behind the hit.
He¡¯d lost nearly a third of his health from the initial blow alone.
Leonidas dismissed his helmet on instinct the moment he came to a halt, and barely had time to pull himself up to all fours before vomiting blood, bile, and breakfast onto the stones below him. Air was heaved into his lungs after his stomach emptied, and Leonidas turned back toward the Hydra in a fugue.
One of his eyes was bloodied from the impact with half-blurred vision, and he distantly realized his health was still dropping steadily¡ªalbeit slowly. Worse, something in his body felt wrong¡ªbroken and displaced. His right side wasn¡¯t responding properly.
¡°F-Fuck¡¡± he snarled through bloodied lips.
Leonidas let his gaze automatically shift toward the Hydra¡¯s tail as its heads shrieked at him, and he observed as the creature worked to wrench the appendage free from the crater it had caused.
A thought struck him in that moment, as well as a memory of the Arena¡¯s layout.
That thing is strong enough to shatter the floor¡
His gaze darted toward the cracks spreading across the surface of the arena.
The arena floor wasn¡¯t entirely solid, he knew that from his lessons with Ceruviel¡ªit was built over a reinforced underground containment zone for storage and beast holding.
If the floor was already fractured, then with enough force, it could be broken.
Leonidas slowly let a bloody grin spread across his lips. ¡°Game on, fucko,¡± he rasped.
The Hydra finally managed to extricate its tail at that moment, and its eyes transfixed themselves on him when it did.
Leonidas did not need to second guess his next course of action.
He scrambled to his feet, gave the Hydra the finger, and he ran.
[Chivalric Charge] activated once again, and Leonidas blitzed onward toward the center of the arena. His ability combined with his natural speed advantage gave him precious seconds of distance, and he took the chance to withdraw both his last [Psi Potion] and two of his [Health Potion]s; uncorking and drinking all three as quickly as possible¡ªeven while holding back another wave of vomit from the remnants of his earlier expulsion.
The Hydra barely gave him enough time, but its lumbering gait was enough.
By the point that it reached him, his health was no longer dropping, and he felt his body responding properly again¡ªat least, it was no longer actively impeding him. Full function was still another matter entirely.
With a rattling hiss, the Hydra closed the last of the distance and reared back before lunging after him, massive claws gouging deep furrows into the stone as it charged.
Leonidas pushed his Agility Attribute to its limit, leaned into his [Psionic Focus], and weaved between the monster¡¯s snapping jaws with every iota of speed and physical conditioning he possessed; narrowly avoiding its fangs each time they came for him¡ªand the near-guaranteed death that even one blow promised.
He moved in a careful circle, allowing the creature¡¯s attacks to smash its heads into the arena floor with a BOOM of impact to accompany each strike. Leonidas felt his heart racing as he cycled mana in his body, and relied on the surging power of his cataclysm mana to keep him one step ahead¡ªone small, precious second faster than each lunging snakehead.
Four attacked at once, and he cranked out another [Chivalric Charge] to dodge, while surging in a straight line away from the Hydra at a 90 degree angle. The beast¡¯s heads screamed in fury, and its tail lashed up and out to smash into the arena floor in fury.
The crack of the stone was like music to his ears.
Leonidas came to a halt some distance away from the Hydra, turned, glanced down at the arena floor, and then looked back up to the Hydra and raised both arms wide. When he did, he made sure to show himself panting in exhaustion, and spoke in a voice that was every bit as raw and raspy as it sounded.
¡°COME AT ME, YOU MYTHOLOGICAL CUNT!¡±
The Hydra¡¯s eyes widened in fury, and despite its cunning, animal hatred warred with predatory caution and hatred won out.
His perceived exhaustion was exactly what the creature had been waiting for.
Leonidas surged Psi and Cataclysm Mana together in his Core in readiness.
The Hydra charged toward him, across the cracked stone, and reared its heads back to strike.
The instant before they attacked, Leonidas pushed all but five points of his Psi into his [Psionic Force], while amplifying it with two thirds of his cataclysm mana.
A force of pure, blistering destruction exploded into being at the Hydra¡¯s feet.
The weakened stone gave way instantly.
With a deafening CRACK of artificial thunder, the arena floor collapsed beneath the Hydra.
The beast roared in shock as its own weight and limited motion pulled it backward into the crack of darkness behind it, and it screamed in fury as it tumbled bodily into the containment chamber beneath the arena with a THUMP of impact.
Dust and stone fled outward in a cloud of debris from the destruction.
The entire arena, from the floor to the stands, shook from the impact.
Leonidas threw himself backward and barely managed to avoid succumbing to the widening maw of the broken floor as more of it collapsed, his heart thundering in his chest as he looked down into the dim chasm where the Hydra now lay, half-buried in rubble and writhing in fury.
A beat of muted shock followed from the crowd and announcer alike.
¡°Fuck you, asshole,¡± Leonidas said, his voice echoing in the deafening silence.
And then the crowd exploded into a chorus of shrieking approval.
¡°ACHILLES! ACHILLES! ACHILLES!¡±
Leonidas exhaled a slow breath, his chest rising and falling with some measure of returning control. He wasn¡¯t done yet. The Hydra was still alive, and that meant he still had a fight to win¡ªbut now he could do it somewhere it lacked the ability to wield its body properly. The chamber below them was compact, and that meant that while he would be in close quarters the entire time, the Hydra would similarly have extremely restricted mobility.
A grunt followed and he climbed to his feet, pulling out all of his remaining potions¡ªthree Mana and one Health¡ª and rolling his shoulders as he gazed down at the struggling beast below.
Its serpentine necks flailed as it worked to free itself from the debris.
Leonidas called upon his Cataclysm Mana once more, and cycled it rapidly.
All four potions were downed, and he extended his right hand; summoning his bastard sword in a flash-crackle of scarlet lightning. His head rose, and he turned toward the Royal Box, where Ceruviel and Aylar were watching him unblinkingly.
¡°See you soon!¡± he called with a hidden smirk, and lifted his sword in salute.
¡°IS THE MAD BASTARD ACTUALLY GOING TO FOLLOW IT?!¡± the announcer shouted.
Leonidas looked down at the Hydra and tightened his grip on his sword.
¡°Leeroy fucking Jenkins,¡± he whispered to himself, and without another word, stepped off the ledge into the darkness below.
The crowd¡¯s howl of approval was deafening.
B1 | Chapter 60: Arena Combat, Hydra II
Leonidas descended through a cloud of dust and debris, and his eyes narrowed in focus as he fell. A jutting piece of metal that had served as support for the destroyed floor of the arena came within reach, and Leonidas lunged for it, fingers brushing the steel in an effort to grab hold. He managed to snag it by the grace of the System, and ameliorated his fall with a rapid, angled slide of steel-scraping-steel down toward the truncated end of the shattered beam.
His grip came free just near the end of the beam¡ªblood-slick gauntlets betraying him¡ªand a curse spilled out between gritted teeth as he twisted mid-air, not expecting the early dismount. With his Psi down to a flicker, he realized almost immediately that couldn¡¯t conjure a shield or force to catch himself. He¡¯d burned through his energy, leaving him with nothing but stamina, swordsmanship, and the rage of his [Cataclysm Core].
It would have to be enough.
The Hydra¡¯s thrashing bulk loomed below, a tangle of scales and fury half-pinned by rubble, and flailing to free itself even then.
Leonidas angled his fall as best he could as he descended, tucking his sword arm tight and aiming for one of its writhing necks. The air screamed past him, and he slammed into the serpentine length of its fifth head with a crunch¡ªhis boots smashing into the scales with enough force to slam the head down against the rock.
Bioluminescent blood sprayed into the air alongside debris.
Pain lanced through his ankles, but the Hydra¡¯s screech of outrage drowned out his own grunt. Its flesh, inhospitable as it was, gave just enough to cushion the impact, and Leonidas wasted no time in forcing himself into action.
His Core blazed to life within him, furious with intensity, and he channelled its power into his blade with every iota of his Willpower. [Psionic Swordforce] was completely outside the realm of consideration, especially since his [Psionic Focus] would be critical for him to stay alive¡ªbut his [Archon¡¯s Psiblade] was bound to him, and that meant it was bound to his Core, as well.
It had handled the power of his mana before.
He had trained it to do so with Ceruviel, but with sporadic success.
The gems inlaid to the weapon lit up cardinal red, and destructive flames ignited around its blade, and he was shocked at the sudden flood of mana that left him when they did.
He didn¡¯t have time to assess it, though, because the Hydra had very much taken notice. The sixth head struck at him at the same time as the third, while the seventh, first, second, and fourth were still attempting to pull themselves free of the immense amount of rubble restricting their movement.
¡°Small mercies!¡± Leonidas growled while scuttling out of the attacking heads¡¯ line of assault. His body groaned in process at his movement, given the fact he had fallen over a dozen feet, but he forced himself to ignore it¡ªand focus instead entirely on staying alive. His only option was to win, and to use the subsequent level up to survive the encounter.
The Arena fights were to the death, after all.
That meant giving up only ended one way.
The heads he mentally labelled ¡®Six¡¯ and ¡®Three¡¯ slammed into the rubble when he moved, and Leonidas used the cloud of dust to dart away from their line of sight, focusing instead on ¡®Five¡¯¡ªthe head he had crushed into the ground with his drop. Leonidas lifted his psiblade and rushed toward it, fully and acutely aware of the fact that ¡®Six¡¯ and ¡®Three¡¯ would take note of his flaming sword any second.
¡®Five¡¯ turned one of its malicious golden eyes toward him at the last second, and the Hydra¡¯s head unleashed a shriek of rage and fear that resonated through Leonidas¡¯ [Psionic Focus]. Its jaws parted, and its massive teeth bubbled with caustic green smoke as it prepared some sort of breath attack.
He did not give the Hydra that chance.
Leonidas activated [Chivalric Charge] and tackled ¡®Five¡¯ directly behind its head, slamming his armored shoulder into its serpentine mass and creating a bone-chilling snap sound as he impacted. The Hydra¡¯s head spasmed along its length, and Leonidas felt something in his shoulder scream in pain after his charge ended.
Heedless of the pain¡ªCeruviel had thoroughly conditioned his new body against being hindered by it easily¡ªsinging in his shoulder, and perhaps across his entire collarbone; Leonidas scrambled to where the dog-sized head of the Hydra lay dazed upon the rubble and lifted his psiblade at the same time as he heard enraged snarls from the other heads.
Without letting doubt stay his hand, he lifted his sword and¡ªwith a full application of his Strength and Agility Attributes¡ªspoke through bloodied teeth beneath his helmet while flooding mana into his blade.
¡°Sixth Sword Art: Pierce the Mountain!¡±
Leonidas slammed the sword home into the Hydra¡¯s disoriented eye.
Viscous neon-green and crimson blood sprayed across him, and Leonidas was thankful for his helmet at that moment. Moreover, he noticed something else: his mana and stamina took hits to their remaining pools from his attack¡ but not without benefit.
The Hydra¡¯s head blistered from where his sword had been impaled, and began to bubble¡ªits eye sockets vomiting scarlet fire and lightning as its scales blackened and bleached, and eventually began to fester with spreading veins of magma not unlike the now-permanent wound to its shoulder.
The Hydra¡¯s head spasmed one final time, and then went still.
Leonidas tore out his blade with a victorious snarl.
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At the same time, all six remaining heads shrieked in rage and pain.
But Leonidas felt something else through his [Psionic Focus].
Fear.
Leonidas grinned to himself savagely, at the same moment as his spatial awareness roared at him to move.
¡°Ah,¡± he said with a glance above him, ¡°shit.¡±
¡®Six¡¯ smashed into him like a falling tree, and Leonidas was slapped away from the inert corpse of ¡®Five¡¯ like an armored ragdoll. His [Archon¡¯s Warplate] absorbed the majority of the impact, and it seemed that the other head was more desperate than anything else in its strike, which mitigated some of the damage.
But only some.
Leonidas didn¡¯t need to consult his flashing health bar to know something inside of him had been compromised, and he didn¡¯t need to look at his body to know he was bleeding. He could feel a difference in his breathing, and he could taste iron on his tongue and in his throat. The blow had failed to take him out of the fight, but it had put him onto the path.
Now, he was on a timer.
The positive was that he¡¯d held onto his weapon.
The negative was that he couldn¡¯t use it if he was unconscious.
Leonidas grit his teeth and refocused on the heads that were still pinned, and while not defenseless, far more vulnerable than both ¡®Six¡¯ and ¡®Three¡¯. In situations like his current, there was no good option¡ªonly the best of worst, and it was either those or die. He certainly knew which ones he favored.
¡°Defeat in detail,¡± he mumbled to himself, and suppressed a wheezing cough. ¡°You and me, fucko.¡±
A wet laugh left his lips, and he lifted his [Archon¡¯s Psiblade] in preparation.
¡°Round three, asshole.¡±
Leonidas glanced at his stamina reserves, and then threw himself forward in a charge. His stamina was the only attribute he had which regenerated fast enough in combat to matter in the short term, and it was that very regeneration he was relying on. His eyes sought his target, and thanks to the blow from ¡®Six¡¯, he realized he was imminently closer to ¡®One¡¯ than he was to any other head.
That worked for him.
Leonidas crossed the intervening distance between him and the Hydra with speed and fury, and when ¡®Three¡¯ turned toward him, he tapped into his stamina while his eyes found the writhing silhouette of ¡®One¡¯ within the debris and mess. He didn¡¯t trigger [Chivalric Charge], but instead held his stamina right on the edge¡ªtrusting his [Psionic Focus] to give him the timing.
Pain, fury, fear, and adrenaline surged through him and Leonidas felt his mana reserves fall further as he continued to burn through them. He had no choice. If he risked activating and deactivating the ¡®cloak¡¯ of mana on his blade, he¡¯d lose his power even faster. He was already down to the halfway mark, and it would only continue to drop.
Another reason to end things swiftly, as if he needed more incentive.
¡®Three¡¯ snarled its warning as Leonidas approached, and he ignored the hissing and spitting creature, instead keeping his eyes locked on ¡®One¡¯. The head, which he saw was firmly half-buried beneath a full chunk of the arena floor that had fallen down smack-bang in the middle of the head¡¯s neck, twisted as best it could toward him in fury and fear.
At the same time, ¡®Three¡¯ opened its mouth and began gathering the same poisonous smog as ¡®Five¡¯ had, though Leonidas knew this attack was far more likely to succeed. At least, it was in theory. He had a plan for that, as well.
Moments later, while he was still about twenty yards from ¡®One¡¯, ¡®Three¡¯ unleashed its corrosive breath.
In response, Leonidas continued to run.
One heartbeat.
The smog rolled toward him in a concentrated cone.
Two heartbeats.
The smog was thick with cloying poison, and he could feel his nose burning just from the effect it had on the air without being on top of him.
Three heartbeats.
Poison and corrosive power sizzled its way over the masonry, and Leonidas heard enchanted rock crumble and audibly fracture as the poison consumed it. His teeth gritted to steel his resolve, and he waited until he was right on the very edge of the smog cloud¡ªwhen his eyes watered, and he felt his face growing hot from mere proximity.
That was when he released his built up stamina.
[Chivalric Charge] went off with enough force to rocket him away from the smog at a velocity that blasted the attack sideways from the air displacement. As he moved, Leonidas raised his sword and spoke with bloodied lips.
¡°First Sword Art,¡± he snarled while closing with ¡®One¡¯, ¡°Requiem of the Tempest!¡±
The [Archon¡¯s Psiblade] punched into the pinned head not at its top, but right where its upper half exited the rubble keeping it in place.
The softer tissue of the neck cushioned Leonidas¡¯ impact, somewhat, at the same time as his sword slammed it sideways and into the pinned body of ¡®Two¡¯. He had deliberately chosen a part of the head that he knew was more weighty, and closer to the second neck.
Necks were not as agile as the head-proper, after all. They couldn¡¯t dodge.
Leonidas growled as his motion was arrested, and wasted no time.
His [Cataclysm Core] ejected another surge of mana, and unlike ¡®Five¡¯, ¡®One¡¯ was not already braindead from an unforeseen lobotomy. The Hydra¡¯s first head screamed in agony, letting out a wail so horrifying that Leonidas felt his blood run cold and chills roll down his spine. At the same time, the flesh and scales under his sword blistered and boiled, and nauseating smoke wafted from the fleshy mass.
Leonidas tried not to gag, and tore his blade out of ¡®One¡¯.
¡®Three¡¯ chose that moment to strike, and instead of letting it, Leonidas trusted his blaring imagined klaxons from [Psionic Focus] and dived out of the way.
¡®Three¡¯ smashed head-first into stone and snarled in fury, shaking itself to clear the immediate disorientation. Leonidas took the opportunity to turn back to ¡®One¡¯, and then froze.
Not only were the scales and flesh rotting from his mana as before, but something else¡ªwhich the blow from ¡®Six¡¯ had previously robbed him from witnessing¡ªwas occurring: the entire neck was dissolving where he had stabbed it. Sinew, boiled and sludged blood, and rapidly necrotizing flesh sloughed away even after he removed his head, and Leonidas turned toward ¡®One¡¯ at the same time as the head¡¯s screaming gurgled out, and its upper quarter of neck simply fell off.
For a moment panic filled him, and he looked toward where the stump was in preparation for three more hideous skulls to explode outward, or for some equally dramatic regeneration ritual or regrowth ritual to occur.
Nothing did, and the remaining five heads shrieked the same way they did when ¡®Five¡¯ had been impaled.
Despite himself, Leonidas laughed.
It was a mad, desperate laugh, but laugh he did.
¡°Fuck,¡± he said while pushing himself to his feet, ¡°I should have called myself Hercules.¡±
Another ragged laugh tore from his lips, and he felt his lung heaving for function.
¡°Two down,¡± he said while eyeing ¡®Two¡¯ and ¡®Three¡¯. ¡°Five more to go.¡±
Leonidas charged once more.
B1 | Chapter 61: Arena Combat, Hydra III
Leonidas felt his heart thundering in his chest with adrenaline, and at that point, it may have very well been the only thing keeping him going. His health was still dropping, albeit at a truncated rate thanks to his Vitality increases, and his mana was steadily ticking down. His stamina, despite his growing exhaustion, was still managing to steadily rise¡ªand his psi, while not draining, was kept at a steady neutral by the pull of his [Psionic Focus].
The integrated amplifier of his helmet was pulling its weight, too.
His spatial awareness, in fact, was the only reason he wasn¡¯t already dead.
His [Archon¡¯s Psiblade] hummed in his grip as he charged, and he breathed through bloodied lips while he sighted his target. The Hydra¡¯s five remaining heads loomed ahead, their golden eyes blazing with a cocktail of rage and, according to his [Psionic Focus], something alien to the creature: panic..
He had them scared. Good. Fear made monsters sloppy.
Every breath rattled wetly in his lungs, indicating that the damage he¡¯d sustained was almost as bad as he¡¯d thought¡ªcracked ribs or worse, though he didn¡¯t have time to check. His [Cataclysm Core] pulsed hot in his gut, begging to be unleashed again. He¡¯d already carved two heads into ruin with it, and the memory of ¡®One¡¯s neck dissolving into sludge fueled a grim smirk beneath his visor.
Five more. Five more, and he would earn his salvation.
The System never rewarded anything less than total victory.
¡®Three¡¯ lunged first when Leonidas closed in, jaws snapping with a hiss of venomous mist boiling between its fangs.
Leonidas sidestepped, feeling the heat of the poison graze his armor, and swung his blade up in a brutal arc in response.
The mana-charged steel bit into the Hydra¡¯s jaw, shearing through scales with a spray of neon-green blood, and igniting the mist in a sudden and unexpected reaction. The head recoiled, shrieking as flames engulfed it, but his focus was not on the now-wounded head¡ªwhich was even then spinning itself to try to disgorge the cataclysm mana burning its maw.
His eyes darted around to spot ¡®Six¡¯, and he marked its position specifically with his passive psionic awareness, while surging toward ¡®Two¡¯.
The second head saw him coming, and it redoubled its efforts to free itself¡ªthrashing like a thing possessed and displacing dust, rock, and steel in an effort to writhe away from the pinning rock. Leonidas tightened his grip on his sword and took a running leap onto the remains of the lower part of the first head¡¯s neck.
The moment his feet touched down, he bent to absorb impact and then springboarded forward again.
¡®Two¡¯ freed itself at the same moment, and Leonidas leaped forward and onto its rising neck in a sudden surge of devil may care madness. The Hydra¡¯s heads snarled in response, and he saw ¡®Six¡¯ surging in to dislodge him, though without corrosive breath in its jaws.
Interesting.
In response to the creature, Leonidas slid down the short length of the second head¡¯s neck as ¡®Six¡¯ rushed past him with a screech of hatred, and lifted his sword as he did¡ªshifting his grip to reverse and raising it as if to stab down into the ground.
¡°Sixth Sword Art,¡± he growled with a ruined throat, ¡°Shatter the Earth!¡±
Stamina fled his body in a rush, and Leonidas felt his arm vibrate with the force of his blow as he impaled his sword into the base of the neck belonging to ¡®Two¡¯. The [Archon¡¯s Psiblade] bit deep, and bioluminescent blood spilled out like an unearthed well as he hit something vital. His Core snarled like an enraged animal, and Leonidas let it loose when his blade sank in up to the crossguard.
The condensed power of multitudinous natural disasters blistered and boiled within the base of the second neck, and ¡®Two¡¯ unleashed an unearthly wail to mimic that of ¡®One¡¯ before its demise.
The Hydra¡¯s body spasmed, and Leonidas wrenched his sword free as ¡®Three¡¯ and ¡®Six¡¯ both twisted to strike at him like gigantic vipers. The former was a quarter-blackened husk, and its hiss was filled with abject loathing; while the latter was as hale as could be reasonably expected.
Leonidas managed to dive across the Hydra¡¯s body to dodge three, with one of its eyes glassy from his attack¡ªbut ¡®Six¡¯ was not so easily deterred. The sixth head had pulled its velocity, having learned from earlier experience, and only after Leonidas completed his dive did it properly attack.
Pain exploded across his body as the Hydra¡¯s jaws locked around his left arm and, instead of biting the limb off, used it to lift Leonidas from its back and throw him away like an unwanted chew toy.
A skull icon shrouded in green appeared above his health bar at the same time as a notable chunk of its remaining percentage vanished instantly, and Leonidas barely had time to process the information before he slammed into the wall of the holding bay with a dull crunch.
His vision flashed from black to white, the air fled his lungs in a choked wheeze, and Leonidas found himself sprawled on the ground with his left arm unresponsive. His eyes, unfocused and blurry, desperately sought the Hydra¡ªand found it where he¡¯d left it, now attempting to free itself in a frenzied storm of movement.
¡®One¡¯ and ¡®Two¡¯ were gone, the first severed two-thirds from the base of its body, and the second had completely rotted away¡ªleaving a bleeding, rotted base still festering with glowing lines of cataclysm mana. ¡®Five¡¯ was a headless stump, dead on the ground, and ¡®Six¡¯ was viciously snapping at masonry to try to free the writhing ¡®Seven¡¯ while ¡®Four¡¯ struggled alone.
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It was ¡®Three¡¯, however, that truly caught his attention.
The head he had already wounded was screaming, and undulating like it was drunk, panicked, or both. His eyes drifted down its neck, and he realized with groggy shock that the mana he¡¯d injected into ¡®Two¡¯ had travelled to the base of ¡®Three¡¯.
Even as he watched, rot and corrosion were spreading along the Hydra¡¯s body, partially obscured by the dust and debris¡ªand Leonidas could sense terror in all the remaining heads.
A moment of darkness washed over him, and he snapped back to alertness a second later. When he did, he saw ¡®Three¡¯ sway drunkenly and then crash to the ground; spasming and heaving as its base was further corroded, until finally and with a final ear-splitting wail, its own writhing tore it from the main body in a sickening squelch of boiled blood and rotted scales.
The entire neck sloughed away, melting from the main body like fresh paint bleeding due to water damage, and Leonidas felt his lips spit into a grin at the sight.
¡°Four down,¡± he breathed wetly, while blood dribbled from his lips. ¡°Three to¡ª¡± he shook his head to clear another dizzy spell ¡°¡ªthree to go, b-bitch.¡±
Leonidas stabbed his sword into the rubble beside him and dragged his armored legs under himself to push him to his feet with the blade, and felt a wave of nausea and vertigo consume him.
It was hard to breathe. He felt suffocated.
His eyes unfocused again for a moment, and he reached up and ripped off his helmet; fumbling with it in his fugue and with the [Archon¡¯s Psiblade] still held in his grip. ¡°Gotta¡ finish the¡¡±
He staggered and caught himself on his sword, and his attention drifted to his HUD.
Health: 32 | Mana: 43 | Stamina: 27 | Psi: 7
A groan left his lips, and he glanced down at his left arm, dangling uselessly at his side and twisted awkwardly¡ªbadly enough that it appeared nigh unusable. His gaze unfocused again, and he looked back at the Hydra.
¡°...stupid snake bitch¡¡± he mumbled deliriously, while staggering backward and turning to vomit blood and bile onto the stonework and metal below.
¡°Not¡ not done yet¡¡± he grunted while turning back to Hydra.
The creature¡¯s remaining heads turned to him as one, and at that moment, ¡®Six¡¯ managed to tear ¡®Seven¡¯ free, and¡ªno longer weighed down by three of its necks and the rocks suppressing them¡ªthe Hydra¡¯s powerful body pulled ¡®Four¡¯ loose as well by sheer merit of its movement.
Leonidas lifted his right arm to wipe his mouth, and felt his mana flickering.
¡°Come on, then,¡± he slurred while forcing himself to stand straight, and raising his blade before him. ¡°Come on¡ COME ON!¡±
The Hydra¡¯s heads hissed in rage, in fear, in hate¡ªand its multiple eyes swept over his broken form. A low, malicious rumble echoed from the remaining three heads, and the beast¡¯s body shook itself. It took a step, shaking the ground with its weight and staggering Leonidas momentarily. He cursed in a drunk-like stupor, and his left eye turned hazy¡ªoccluded by blood that seemed to be clouding his vision.
¡°One arm down,¡± he jeered relentlessly, ¡°broken bones, broken fucking brain, and I¡¯m still here you overgrown fucking gecko.¡±
The Hydra breathed deeply, almost as if it was savoring the moment, and ¡®Six¡¯ hissed angrily. Poison started to accumulate in its maw, and abruptly both ¡®Four¡¯ and ¡®Seven¡¯ snapped at it without hitting it. ¡®Six¡¯ looked between them, and rapid hisses passed among the heads before all three returned their attention to Leonidas. Another rumble left their throats, and the Hydra took another ponderous step forward.
Something about its movement told Leonidas that it was as badly hurt as he was¡ªlikely suffering from a significant loss of vitality, and whatever central system controlled its motion. Another laugh echoed from his lips, and he took his own step forward while pointing his blade at the Hydra.
¡°Come and get me, asshole,¡± he taunted again, while funnelling what mana remained into keeping his wrapped cataclysm mana burning along his sword.
The Hydra hissed again, and took another step, and then another.
The intervening distance between them shrunk rapidly, and Leonidas stared up at the creature as it slowly came within striking range. The heads stared back at him, one part reptile cunning, one part predatory satisfaction, one part fear, and¡ªperhaps most surprisingly of all¡ªone part begrudging, loathing respect.
It hated him, but it acknowledged a powerful foe.
He knew it would not be enough to save him, but he didn¡¯t care.
¡°Do your worst,¡± he demanded, while coughing up more blood. ¡°I fucking dare you.¡±
¡®Four¡¯ snarled at him, spitting saliva and corrosive acid from its maw as it did, though none landed on Leonidas. He did not react, did not move, did not stagger. He remained steadfast, and as the heads leaned in, he refused to be intimidated. Synthra had been scarier than this sorry excuse for a lizard. Azrageth had made the Hydra look like an afternoon amusement. The Corrupted he had killed in their thousands had affected him more than this big, dumb, stupid reptile.
Leonidas raised his sword in a ready stance, and ignited every last drop of his Core¡¯s mana into the blade. Power, fury, desperation, and relentless pride pushed him to withstand and so he did: defiant, unbowed, unbroken. He held his blade aloft, held his chin high, and he snarled right back at the Hydra.
A mad, mirthless laugh spilled from his bloodied lips as ¡®Four¡¯ reared back.
I¡¯m going to die. He realized. Funny¡ I wanted to die so badly, and now that I finally am¡
He thought of his sister, his parents, his grandparents, Ceruviel, and the desperate hope in the eyes of the Terrans in the stands, watching him, believing in him; their proxy, their representative, their kinsman, their champion. They needed him, humanity needed him, and he knew he was failing them. He was failing them like he¡¯d failed Miranda, like he¡¯d failed the children, like he¡¯d failed so many people. He was tired of failing. He was tired of giving up. Ceruviel had forged him into a weapon, and he was shattering upon his first true test. What a pathetic, wasteful tempering of steel he had turned out to be.
It wasn¡¯t supposed to end like this.
¡I want to live.
Something in his Core clicked, like a key turning in a lock.
The head descended, and in a flash of fangs, everything went black.
B1 | Chapter 62: I Want To Live
Aylar stared in muted shock at the magical display showing the result of Leonidas¡¯ fight in the pit. Around her, the box was equally silent. All eyes, upon seeing the Hydra¡¯s head descend to snatch up Leonidas, turned toward Ceruviel.
The Dusk-Lord stood silent, her gaze not on the screen, but directed toward the pit. Aylar felt nausea in her gut, and watched the Duchess with a mix of empathy, wariness, and a small amount of traitorous fear. Ceruviel Latherian had not taken an apprentice since she became an Archon. She had refused all comers, defied all petitioners, and thrown a royal prince out on his rear when he¡¯d attempted to strong-arm her compliance, idiotic as that had been.
Now the only person to have ever impressed her was dead.
Aylar¡¯s was not the only face showing a mix of apprehension. In some cases, the fear was worn outright, and nobles that had spoken ill of the Terran¡ªthe same nobles that had been forced to begrudgingly acknowledge his potential¡ªwatched the most powerful woman in Dawnhaven with naked terror.
How would she react? Would she erupt? Would she go on a rampage?
Would she take vengeance on those that had wished ill upon her apprentice?
Aylar breathed to steady herself, and then abruptly, she frowned.
Her eyes focused fully on Ceruviel, and she realized something strange; the Duchess did not look sad or angry, which she could understand she may have been hiding¡ªbut something more puzzling struck the Princess when she fully focused on the cast of Ceruviel¡¯s features.
The Duchess did not look afflicted, instead, she looked almost the opposite.
Aylar¡¯s eyes widened when she realized what she was seeing, and she felt her heartbeat increase immediately. Her gaze turned back to the magical display, and she fixed her eyes on it while refusing to blink. It made no sense, but Ceruviel was the most powerful psionic in Dawnhaven¡ªperhaps on the entirety of [Planet 42], at that present moment.
The look on her face was what had alerted Aylar.
Not grief, not sorrow, not rage.
It was expectation.
* * * * *
Leonidas floated in darkness, complete and absolute, with no sense of self. He was drifting, bouncing, floating in a tide of the void. He was dead, defeated, crushed by his own hubris and the fallacy of his own arrogance. Ceruviel¡¯s lessons, Miranda¡¯s teachings, his five years in Elatra¡ªall of it had amounted to nothing.
The void hearkened to him.
Death called his name.
So then why, why could he not answer?
A moment later, the blackness was split by the appearance of a screen. It hung along, surrounded by darkness, and its words twisted and distorted¡ªblurring as he read them, with cracks across the writing.
When he finally managed to read them, he felt something stirring in his Core.
A storm, an earthquake, a typhoon, an avalanche, a volcanic eruption.
Leonidas¡¯ eyes burned, his body burned, his soul burned.
The darkness gave way to incandescent crimson light, and he felt himself falling¡ªdown, down, further down still; down into a maw of a thousand teeth; down into a pit of liquid flame; down into a grinding abyss of rage and primordial devastation.
Reality broke, sensation became agony, and his existence resolved itself into a singular and imperative point: a pinprick, a superanova, a coruscating emanation of radiant detonation that wiped away all sense of doubt. He was destroyed a hundred times, and put together each time, faster, stronger, better. His soul remained the only constant¡ªa litany of stubborn resistance, singing a tale of immutable defiance.
I want to live.
Pain and pleasure melded into a single sensation as he was atomized, vaporized, burned, frozen, and crushed. Awareness was a burden, alertness was a curse. He was drowning and he was buried, and his actualization became a burden he wanted to doff more than he wanted anything else in the world¡ªbarring a single repeating line.
I want to live.
A staccato symphony of off-key notes and screeching violations of sound assailed him, physical brutality beat him, and he relived every second of suffering he had ever endured. He suffered as a child, he suffered as a man, he suffered in Elatra, he suffered on Earth¡ªon, and on, and on again; an endless replay of every moment that the world itself had failed him.
Why did he fight? Why did he bother caring?
I want to live.
Why?
I want to live.
Why?
I. Want. To. Live.
Fire burned him, water drowned him, earth crushed him, air suffocated him. He was in freefall and he was pinned, held, broken beneath the weight of two worlds, two fates, two lives. Again and again that burden slammed into him, again and again it demanded his surrender. It wanted him to give in. It wanted him to give up. Did he forget how badly he had wished for this? It would be so much easier, so much faster, so much more comfortable to just¡ let go.
¡°I¡¡±
His body firmed.
¡°...Want¡¡±
His spirit bloomed.
¡°...To¡¡±
His mind fortified.
¡°...LIVE!¡±
The light exploded and shattered into glass, Leonidas Achilles Romulus Paendrag breathed, and his Core ignited.
* * * * *
Synthra pulled the hood of her cloak tighter over her head, and sank down lower in her seat while her leg shook violently against the floor. She had chosen a particularly nondescript part of the stands, but even with her features obscured and her lower face hidden by a mask, she was garnering looks. A tight brassiere and unflattering clothes couldn¡¯t fully hide her figure, and her aura was palpable even to those with none to speak of themselves.
Draconic blood did not do well in suppression, and the Sorceress knew that.
Still, she had not wanted to be recognized¡ªshe had come to fight to observe.
When Achilles¡ªno, Leonidas¡ªhad fought against the Hydra, she had been sure he would die. After all, the creature was a dragon. It was a lesser species, and more of a draconic off-shoot than anything else, but it was Tier Two, he was Tier One, and it was still a dragon. She had thought the man and the strange, complicated things he roused in her would finally be done in.
So why was she glad when he managed to land a decisive blow?
Synthra scowled at herself and stared at the screen projecting the fight in the bowels of the Arena. That move, she begrudgingly admitted, had been inspired. Terrifying, but inspired. How an Untempered Novice could so readily bait a Tier Two draconic beast into a situation like that was beyond belief. She had watched him running around, taunting it, playing with death the entire time, and she had very nearly broken the armrest of her seat while watching him.
Someone had said something to her, and she¡¯d unwittingly glared hard enough that fire had sparked around her eyes.
No one had bothered her after that, but she still regretted it.
Synthra lifted her manicured thumb to her lips and gnawed on it quietly, watching him dance with death in the holding pen below. The fight was brutal and visceral, and while she knew he was capable, the man was asking for death¡ªtrapping himself in an enclosed space, dealing with a seven-headed Hydra that had no distractions from its rage.
Yet somehow, some way, he had survived, and not only that; he had thrived. It beggared all reasonable expectation, and yet her mind could not doubt the results she had seen. Her mother, her insufferable mother, was going to be gloating for days when she found out. Sinalthria had told her, before she¡¯d gone to the match, that Leonidas would shock them all¡ªbut Synthra hadn¡¯t believed it.
Well, she hadn¡¯t wanted to believe it.
Then she watched him fight and traitorous hope bloomed in her heart for him to triumph. She told herself it was simply because she wanted him to prove that she wasn¡¯t weak, he was just absurdly powerful. After all, if he defeated a Tier Two Hydra, then her loss to him would seem far less absurd. That was all it was. She wanted to ameliorate the bruised ego that had been left in his wake, nothing more.
When he had started killing the heads, she had been contained.
When he killed the first she had grumbled.
When he killed the second she had clapped begrudgingly.
When he killed the third she had sighed in relief.
When he killed the fourth she pumped her fist and cheered.
Then he had taken that hit, that awful hit, and her heart had gone into her throat.
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Now she was watching him stand there, sword in hand and facing down the Hydra, and her heart was beating like a thunderous drum against her ribcage.
¡°Come on¡¡± she mumbled to herself, while her teeth gnawed on her thumb. ¡°Do something, you idiot. You¡¯ve still got mana. Do something.¡±
The people near her were muttering as well, uncertain, wary, afraid.
Eyes turned toward the Royal Box where Ceruviel Latherian, her surrogate Aunt, stood there imperiously; her lavender eyes trained on the pit, not a screen, and an impassive expression on her timeless features. Ceruviel would not let her Squire die. Synthra was almost certain of that. She clung to that hope, as much as she hated acknowledging she had hope. Ceruviel was the strongest person in the City, even compared to the Guild Mistress.
Ceruviel would not let Leonidas die. She would not¡ª
The Hydra reared back, and Synthra looked toward Ceruviel again.
She did nothing.
Her eyes went back to the screen.
The Hydra descended, Leonidas died, and the feed abruptly terminated.
Synthra bit through her nail.
* * * * *
Leonidas opened his eyes to find himself standing within a cocoon of pure cataclysm mana. His Core snarled in his chest, but it was different¡ªit was a controlled frenzy, like a tamed beast; fundamentally wild, but not absent an understanding of expectation for command. His eyes lifted to the Hydra, and the creature was frozen in shock several yards out of range, its eyes fixed on him with naked disbelief, and in each one he saw abject terror.
A System screen floated in front of him, and Leonidas looked down at it silently.
Unlock parameters have been Achieved.
Leonidas arched his eyebrow, and swiped it away, only for another to take its place. His eyes swept the text, and a frown came upon his lips as he read over it, all while the Hydra loomed ahead¡ªunwilling to move, while its heads hissed at each other in confusion and distress.
Congratulations, you have fully unlocked your [Core]!
CATACLYSM CORE
[Rarity]: Unique
[Description]: Through trials and tribulations, you have successfully managed to unlock your [Cataclysm Core]¡¯s primary and secondary effects. Your Willpower and sense of self have managed to tame the raging energies in your Core, and as a result, your body has been reconstituted after destruction to better withstand its power. Be aware that each new level of power will require new Feats to further Unlock new tiers of functionality. Go forth, O Great Destroyer, and shake the very foundations of the World!
[Core Effect 1 (Formation Stage)]: +10% Elemental Resistance
[Core Effect 2 (Formation Stage)]: +100% Mana and Affinity Pool
¡°I see,¡± Leonidas said calmly and dismissed that screen as well. ¡°I suppose this little bubble is the System¡¯s way of doing me a solid.¡±
His eyes swept over the net of mana, and then looked up at the Hydra once more. There he tilted his head, and reached into his [Cataclysm Core]. When he did, he noticed a comparable ocean of Mana and Psi awaiting his use, and his lips twisted into a wry smile. So it was true. He had earned something very useful after all.
¡°If my bonuses are additive, then that means I just gained a very useful tool for the rest of these fights,¡± he said while lifting his right hand, and tapping his knuckle against the bubble of energy surrounding him. ¡°Shall we pick up where we left off?¡±
The Hydra¡¯s eyes slitted in fear as Leonidas felt power surging through his body.
¡°Yeah,¡± he said softly, ¡°I¡¯d be scared too.¡±
The bubble of mana detonated outward, and the Hydra reeled when it did. The creature¡¯s heads snapped at one another again, and then focused on Leonidas with the hatred, fear, and desperation of a cornered animal.
¡°Round three,¡± he declared while extending his hand and summoning his sword.
The Hydra snarled in response and roared at him in defiance, its heads already bubbling with poisonous smug. Apparently it wanted to end him before he could get close. It was probably the smarter strategy, in fairness.
In response, Leonidas activated [Psionic Swordforce] and found he had already passively initiated his [Psionic Focus] through muscle memory.
That was nice.
Leonidas bounced on his feet as the corrosive cloud of poison built up, and lifted his left hand, palm out toward the Hydra.
When the beast reared back in preparation to spray it, like a snake readying to strike; Leonidas exerted his psi through [Psionic Force].
Each head was wrapped in a bubble of power and forcefully turned upward.
The breath attack surged toward the hole in the ceiling like a sulphuric eruption.
Leonidas smiled and killed his exertion of power while simultaneously exploding forward and activating [Chivalric Charge]. He had gone about the fight all wrong, he realized: he didn¡¯t need to kill it head-by-head, despite hoping each one would give him individual experience. He needed to just kill the body. The heads would still die individually, and he¡¯d still reap the benefits.
He had made things harder by overcomplicating his thinking, and through greed. If not for the System¡¯s intervention due to his meeting some esoteric requirement, he¡¯d already be dead.
Mistakes like that were completely unacceptable.
Leonidas charged into the Hydra¡¯s proximity at full speed, and when the heads lashed out to attack, he was already moving. [Psionic Focus] kept him aware of his enemy, and a burst of [Psionic Force] smashed away ¡®Six¡¯ when it almost struck him. ¡®Three¡¯ and ¡®Seven¡¯ tried to twist around and downward, and Leonidas gave them no time: launching upward with another trigger of [Chivalric Charge]. The ability sent him airborne nearly ten yards above the Hydra¡¯s heads, and he smiled to himself.
¡°Hey asshole!¡± he called while he ascended. ¡°How about some more XP?¡±
The Hydra roared at him, and Leonidas used conjurations of [Psionic Force] to create platforms in the air, jumping from one to the next while draining more and more increments of his considerably boosted psi pool each time. He didn¡¯t care. He had enough, and he knew his objective.
¡®Seven¡¯ and ¡®Six¡¯ struck at him from below and to the side, and Leonidas conjured two [Psionic Shield]s for them to slam into, draining more psi but dazing the heads. At the same time, ¡®Three¡¯ attempted to attack from head on and Leonidas simply allowed the platform he¡¯d landed on to disappear.
He dropped when it did, and conjured another one near the middle of the third head¡¯s neck.
When he did, he lifted his blade and triggered [Coup de Force: Premier].
The [Archon¡¯s Psiblade] decapitated the third head in one sweeping blow.
¡°That should do the trick,¡± he said in satisfaction and launched himself off the platform and downward, his eyes locked onto the base of ¡®Six¡¯ and ¡®Seven¡¯. Both heads turned toward him, and he could hear and feel ¡®Three¡¯ regenerating through both his ears and [Psionic Focus].
Its scales split apart, its flesh tore asunder, and it melted into three separate heads like some sort of rapid-speed mitosis. A mixture of binary fission and something akin to hammerhead worm reproduction was occurring, but Leonidas hardly cared. That was what he wanted. He was testing a theory.
He dropped the final ten feet to crash into the Hydra¡¯s main body, and his blade sang even as ¡®Six¡¯ and ¡®Seven¡¯ turned toward him with hisses of outrage.
¡°Third Sword Art: Parting the Waterfall!¡±
Stamina fled from him once more, and Leonidas decapitated both heads in one broad, sweeping strike¡ªcutting through them like paper with his [Psionic Swordforce].
The two decapitated necks hit the ground, and a moment later, the flesh of their stumps bubbled, wriggling and writhing until three new growths began exploding outward through a transparent membrane.
¡°Nice,¡± he said simply, and dropped off of the Hydra as the heads shook free. ¡°Now, let¡¯s see what you¡¯re going to give me, you fucking pi?ata.¡±
Was what he was doing reckless? Absolutely. Did dying for a second time¡ªas weird as that was¡ªscrew with his mind a bit? Probably. Would anyone watching him think he was a total moron? Very likely.
Did he care?
Not one fucking bit.
Leonidas lifted his sword and rammed it into the Hydra¡¯s side while wrapping himself in a cocoon of [Psionic Force], and pouring his remaining psi into it to thicken and sustain it. No sooner had he done so, than four new heads slammed into it fangs-first with frenzied hatred. He almost wanted to laugh, but that seemed far too arrogant. Instead, he simply did all the remained: he almost emptied his cataclysm mana directly into the Hydra¡¯s body.
All nine new heads froze and twisted when he did so to stare at their body, to stare at the incandescent bomb of energy Leonidas had just poured inside of them. The scales of the Hydra did not simply rot, they blackened almost instantly. Lines of magmatic scarlet power spread like lightning across its hide, and Leonidas¡¯ instincts screamed at him to get away.
So he did.
Leonidas pulled out his [Archon¡¯s Psiblade] and staggered backward, glancing up at the heads that were spasming in the air, and then turning on his heel.
[Chivalric Charge] triggered once, and then a second time, and Leonidas came to a stumbling, staggering halt as his stamina bottomed out. Behind him, he heard something rumbling and the earth shook under his armored feet.
His gaze turned over his shoulder, and his eyes widened.
In the seconds since he¡¯d made a spirited retreat, the Hydra had ballooned.
The cataclysm mana within it wasn¡¯t simply corroding it as it had before, it was reacting to something, and that reaction was causing the equivalent of putting mentos into a cola bottle. The heads were flailing wildly, like they were drunk or having a seizure, and Leonidas actually ducked when one of them outright exploded.
The head, what he thought was the ¡®Two¡¯ spawned from the original ¡®Three¡¯, detonated in a spray of blood and flesh abruptly and Leonidas realized he may have miscalculated. When the new ¡®Nine¡¯ exploded next, he realized he almost definitely miscalculated. The Hydra¡¯s body was still bloating, and now gouts of erupting blood and melting flesh were spraying from its mass as it bubbled and boiled like an overinflated balloon.
¡°Okay. This is going to suck,¡± he said to himself while taking a breath and moving as far back as the limited space would allow.
Leonidas put a wary eye on the Hydra and searched his reserves.
He still had a surprisingly decent amount of psi left, though it would need to be concentrated to work properly. For good measure, he summoned his helmet as well.
¡°Hell if this isn¡¯t going to make Ceruviel kill me again,¡± he muttered while lifting his left hand and preparing to channel his Affinity.
The Hydra¡¯s body let out a disgusting, gurgling gout of blood and a low whine.
¡°Fuck me.¡±
A second later, the monster exploded with the force of a conventional bomb.
B1 | Chapter 63: Progression
The explosion hit with the power of a semi-trailer.
Leonidas¡¯ teeth grit as he pumped every last remaining iota of mana and psi into his barrier of [Psionic Force], and weathered the blast with the indomitable will of someone that was not interested in dying a third time. It swept over him in a wall of sound and heat, and he bowed his head against the onslaught as the power of his barrier cracked and shivered.
He had used far too much psi with his antics after unlocking the second effect of his [Cataclysm Core], and he knew that he had miscalculated. It had been inordinately idiotic not to conceive of a possibility where the Hydra overloaded and blew up¡ªespecially with prior experience as a teacher. Hindsight though, as many often said, was 20-20.
The explosion¡¯s destructive force consumed everything, and Leonidas weathered it with a snarl of effort until his psi and mana bottomed out, and he was crushed back against the wall by the still-unleashing wave of power. A roar left his lips as his [Archon¡¯s Warplate] was scorched and covered by the viscera and energy, and his body¡ªwas battered and seared by the pure force of the explosion.
By time it was done, Leonidas slumped to the ground heaving for air, and tried to steady the violent trembling of his limbs. His flesh had been scorched from head to toe, and he felt like his armor had melted onto his skin. His eyes, one of which was half-blind, could barely see the blinking notification that his health had dropped once again to single digits.
His body quivered as he leaned back against the wall, and brokenly attempted to utter a word¡ªonly for a broken, rasping croak to leave his throat. His consciousness started fading, again, with no special Core evolution to rescue him this time, and Leonidas almost wanted to laugh at the absurdity of it all.
Until, in the last seconds of his consciousness, something boomed within his mind, within his heart, within the depths of his Core and very soul. A single screen, red as all the others, appeared in front of him.
Congratulations!
You are now [Level 10]!
Leonidas barely had time to stare in disbelief, gawking at the message, before a tsunami of System energy blazed into his body and he arched up from the ground. His body rose, held aloft by currents of esoteric force, and it was all he could do to retain hold of his consciousness as he felt the power of the System forcibly healing and correcting his broken body.
Flesh was soothed, burns erased, scars faded, and even his equipment was repaired. His resource pools refilled, and he felt himself growing in a way he could not quantify. Power, incredible and potent, filled him with indescribable furore¡ªand Leonidas slammed back into the earth with eyes that saw clearly once more.
When he did, a new screen appeared before him.
SYSTEM MESSAGE
Congratulations, you have reached a new [Tier]!
INITIATE TIER
[Level Range]: 10 - 19
[Description]: You have managed to breach the first barrier of power on your path of Cultivation. For the achievement of reaching [Initiate Tier], you have been granted several rewards, as seen below!
[Reward 1]: You have been granted 100 [Aetherium]
[Reward 2]: You may ERROR ERROR undergo your first
Tempering no later than 24 Hours after achieeeeERROR
ERROR ERROR ERROR ERROR ERROR ERROR ERROR
Leonidas stared at the screen for a long moment, and then let out a very slow, very deep and long-suffering sigh. ¡°Yeah, that seems about right,¡± he said while swiping to dismiss the screen and receiving a follow-up message immediately. When he read it he lifted his eyes to the sun blazing in through the ceiling, raised his right hand, and flipped off the sky.
Moments later, heat radiated out from his Core, and Leonidas growled at the feeling. Power and energy boiled like a pot of heat and he reached up to grip his cuirass, to try to remove it, only for his hand to lose strength. Something ephemeral lifted him from the ground, and Leonidas felt himself rising from the earth toward the air.
¡°Hey! What the fuck?¡± he shouted while trying to wriggle free to no avail. His body was firmly held by some sort of pull, and fighting against it¡ªeven while it was paradoxically phantasmal¡ªfelt like trying to swim against the tide of the entire ocean at once. The System apparently had him in its inexorable grip, with no intention of letting go. It didn¡¯t stop him fighting, but he had a feeling that the Error screen was a good indication that something was about to happen.
And if his past experiences were any guide, it was going to suck.
¡°This is fucking bullshit,¡± he said while looking around himself.
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Scarlet motes of power bled from his body as he rose, and Leonidas looked around with wary trepidation as they grew rapidly in number. They populated and shone, surrounding him in a field of rotating light not unlike the gravitational obedience of first a dozen, then two dozen, and eventually hundreds of small moons¡ªall moving at speeds enough to turn them into streaks of red light.
Pressure built in his Core, and Leonidas groaned in pain at the feeling of molten heat, arctic frost, and bone-shattering force coalescing together with what felt like the air pressure of a hurricane. His body spasmed, and Leonidas gasped for air at the feeling of what was happening within his own body. It was both as bad and somehow less troubling than when he had died against the Hydra, but the real question he wanted to ask was why in the hell it even needed to happen.
¡°Whoever said being a Returnee Hero is easy was full of shit!¡± he shouted at the sky.
No answer came from the uncaring heavens, but Leonidas cared little.
The building energy consumed him, and he felt his awareness fading.
The Hydra¡¯s destroyed corpse was the last thing he managed to truly focus on before his vision whitened, and his head snapped backward. Raw primordial fury coursed through his body, and Leonidas opened his mouth in a silent roar as the scarlet motes of energy around his body consolidated together¡ªweaving into a single, immense pillar of radiant crimson power that exploded toward the heavens.
The light pierced the sky, obsidian clouds boiled into existence, and the arena trembled under the fury of the System.
* * * * *
Aylar had watched in disbelief when the feed had restarted and Achilles had managed to somehow protect himself in a bubble of mana. She watched with the rest of the Royal Box as he made the customary gestures for swiping away System alerts, and then popped the bubble that protected him with an almost annoyed sense of impatience.
Her expression went from shock to sheer disbelief when he actually rejoined the fight.
¡°ACHILLES LIVES! ACHILLES LIVES! ACHILLES IS ALIIIIIIIVE!¡±
The arena shook with the screaming approval of the crowd as Aylar watched.
The Terran Squire moved like a man fully refreshed, not one just returned from a brutal fight. He charged at the Hydra dauntlessly, and when it tried to subsume him with its breath, he used invisible force to send its energy streaming up through the destroyed ceiling¡ªor floor, based on your perspective.
What sort of monster is he?
+¡°{Once again you ask the wrong question,}¡±+ Ceruviel¡¯s voice said coldly into her mind. +¡°{Between your dithering about my ¡®rampage¡¯ and your mix of fear and excitement for what the boy represents, you seem less like a Princess-Royal and more like an irascible academy girl, Aylar.}¡±+
The recrimination made the Princess wince, and she idly flexed her hands while watching the screen. Achilles was launching himself airborne as she observed, and seemed to be dancing on platforms of invisible power as he battled the Hydra¡¯s heads in mid-air.
¡°AND ACHILLES CONTINUES HIS ONSLAUGHT! I¡¯LL TELL YOU WHAT FOLKS, I¡¯VE SEEN A LOT OF THINGS IN MY CENTURY OF LIFE, BUT THIS IS A NEW ONE FOR SURE! CAN HE DO IT?¡±
+¡°{I told you, girl: that boy, much like you, will be the key to the prosperity of this region in future. Did you think I arranged this battle simply for show?}¡±+
Aylar glanced toward Ceruviel properly at that, and her painted lips downturned in a frown.
+¡°{I¡ I admit that I was puzzled when I heard he would be facing a Hydra, even an adolescent one. I am not certain I could stand against one in single combat, and I am¡ª}¡±+
+¡°{Not an Archon,}¡±+ Ceruviel finished with a ruthlessness that hurt. +¡°{For all your skill and talent, Aylar, you are not an Archon and as such, you remain incomparable as a theoretical to that Terran. You are a Swordmaiden, like your mother before you, and while that itself is a terrific accomplishment¡ªyou are just as limited as the Heroine-Queen was.}¡±+
It seemed that something had indeed set off Ceruviel, for while the Dusk-Lord was often candid, she retained a level of measured restraint in how she addressed Aylar at least. Now, however, there was no indication of such. The woman was a force of nature in truth, and Aylar felt as if all she could was hold on and wait for the storm to pass.
+¡°{Archons existed to preserve and protect Altera, even in the face of threats no one else could conceive of. Power alone does not make an Archon what they are¡ªit is the type of power, and it is the breadth of its impact across the scope of reality that makes an Archon truly terrifying. Your [Radiance Core] is laudable, Aylar, but compared to that boy¡}¡±+
Ceruviel turned toward her finally, and Aylar saw a mix of pity and cold certainty in the woman¡¯s blazing lavender eyes.
+¡°{...you are a palisade wall weathering the fury of a building typhoon. I intend to forge Achilles into an adamantine bastion¡ªone that will ensure the safety, security, and permanency of Dawnhaven and all of its citizens¡ªHaelfenn and otherwise¡ªfor centuries to come. Your only task, Princess, is to ensure that you bring him to your side. There is no cost that is too great to achieve that goal, remember that.}¡±+
Aylar turned to look at the screen once more, and watched as Achilles sliced through one of the Hydra¡¯s remaining heads without concern and promptly threw himself into a descent; blade pointed down and fearless surety showing through his armored figure. He looked utterly secure in himself, and there was a certainty of self evidenced in his movements that Aylar outright envied. She knew that. She could admit that much to herself.
+¡°{And what happens if I cannot?}¡±+ she asked at last and honestly, without taking her eyes off of the viciously attacking squire.
Ceruviel¡¯s answer was softer than before, but equally brutal in its candor.
+¡°{You will fail.}¡±+
Aylar narrowed her eyes at the screen and pursed her lips.
Then I will make him my ally, she affirmed to herself while tightening her fingers together, no matter what it takes.
A sudden shift from the corner of her eye caught her attention, and Aylar turned once more toward Ceruviel¡ªwho now stood rigidly on edge. On the screen, Achilles had just impaled the Hydra, and was rapidly gaining distance as the creature started to bloat and inflate grotesquely. Gasps and noises of disgust echoed around the Royal Box, but it was Ceruviel who kept Aylar¡¯s attention.
For the first time, the Dusk-Lord seemed troubled.
When the Hydra exploded and Achilles weathered the storm amid cacophonous cheers, Aylar thought Ceruviel would relax.
She did not. If anything, the Dusk-Lord only grew more agitated, and her arms shifted to fold over her chest while she leaned forward to stare down at the pit with her eyes blazing, and psifire crackling in purple-black flickers along her arms. It did not go unnoticed by the nobility, who looked first to the Duchess, and then back to the arena in alarm.
¡°{Dusk-Lord?}¡± Aylar called out loud to steal Ceruviel¡¯s attention. ¡°{Is there something amiss?}¡±
The woman turned at Aylar¡¯s prompting, opened her mouth, and then snapped her gaze back toward the arena. When she did, she stepped forward and gripped the railing¡ªsoon to be joined by several others as a beam of pure, incandescent scarlet light exploded out of the chasm containing the Hydra and pierced the heavens.
Even before the black clouds started forming, Ceruviel spoke in a tone Aylar had never heard from the woman before.
¡°{Heavenly Tribulation,}¡± the Dusk-Lord hissed under her breath. ¡°{That fool boy!}¡±
It wasn¡¯t anger, it wasn¡¯t jealousy, it wasn¡¯t condemnation, it wasn¡¯t disgust.
No, what Aylar heard chilled her blood.
Fear.
B1 | Chapter 64: And the Heavens Wept
Synthra sat with her hands clutched on her thighs, gripping the thick fabric of her cloak, and her gaze transfixed on the projection screen.
When the signal had gone dead, dread had filled her.
She had initially defied the feeling, of course, due in no small part to her continued refusal to accept that she actually held any real affection for the Terran that had disgraced her in the Trial. Her mother be damned, she wasn¡¯t so soft and tender as to be drawn in by some vagrant knight, no matter how proficient or prodigious he was in battle. The draconic part of he revelled in power, naturally, but she was still Haelfenn.
Her unique lineage only made her more exacting when looking at a partner, male or female.
Still, there was a certain measure of worry. Not for him of course, but for the future of the Guild. That was the only reason. The only reason. She reaffirmed that in her mind stoically, even while her heart thundered in her breast and her elongated canines nearly punched through her full lower lip in worry.
¡°Come on¡¡± she mumbled to herself quietly, while she listened to the crowd around her murmuring in concerned agreement. The announcer hadn¡¯t called the match, and in fact, the woman¡ªthe Terran term for females was part of her vernacular now¡ªgiving them the play-by-play had herself gone abruptly quiet.
Synthra turned her gaze toward Ceruviel, and saw her Aunt staring intently down at the hole in the arena without flinching. With her enhanced eyesight, Synthra could tell that the Dusk-Lord was not perturbed, and that alone offered her some measure of patience. If Achilles¡ªno, Leonidas, she mentally corrected again¡ªhad fallen to the Hydra then surely Ceruviel would have reacted.
She did not seem to be alone in that assessment, and more than a few mentions of ¡°Dusk-Lord¡± and ¡°not phased¡± flickered through her awareness. Some of the terms were more disparaging, like ¡°cold-hearted knife-eared bitch¡±, but she ignored those easily. The fear, anxiety, and collective resentment of the Terran natives interspersed within the crowd was more than understandable. She had chosen to sit with them where they had gathered en mass in one section of the stands, and their dread was reasonable.
Leonidas Achilles was the first sign of a true Champion of Earth, as they called ¡®Terra¡¯, since the integration. It was no surprise they wanted him to succeed. It was a thing of tribalism and vain hope, one born of a people that had been subverted from absolute rulers of their world to tolerated refugees. The pride, the temerity, the tenacity, and the singular unity of the Terran people was something Synthra admired. It hearkened to her own self in a way no Haelfenn would ever understand.
Humans, for all their flaws, treated her like any other person. They treated her based on her actions, merits, and achievements. The Terran staff of the Guild did not see her as prime breeding stock, as so many ambitious Haelfenn did¡ªeager as they were for her draconic gifts in their lineage. The people of Earth saw her as Synthra, and for that she was immeasurably grateful.
A flicker of motion on the projected screens caught Synthra¡¯s attention, and she snapped her eyes back to the broadcast.
Her traitorous heart swelled within her chest and she felt herself grin savagely at the sight of Leonidas not only alive but looking quite hale within a shield of energy.
¡°ACHILLES LIVES! ACHILLES LIVES! ACHILLES IS ALIIIIIIIVE!¡±
I thought I saw him die, and what is that power? I thought his Affinity was Psi.
The errant thought drifted through her mind and vanished as quickly as it came, overruled by what happened in the next instant. Leonidas dispelled the shield, throwing the bubble of vicious crimson power away from him like he were swatting a fly. A second later the Terran exploded forward, and Synthra joined the crowd in a roar of approval when the Black Knight charged his foe once more.
Her voice, unbeknownst to her, was among the loudest.
* * * * *
¡°{Heavenly Tribulation?}¡± Aylar asked when she joined Ceruviel at the balcony, and looked between her and the pillar of incandescent power ascending above them. Confusion and panic were rampant among the crowd, and the Princess wasn¡¯t entirely sure she had the ability to suppress it.
¡°{I knew he was a monster,}¡± Ceruviel said in response, while her lavender eyes narrowed upon the beam of light. ¡°{I did not realize to what extent. What do you know of tribulation, Princess?}¡±
¡°{Only that it is a trial imposed by the System, to test the mettle of the mighty. The truth around it is largely misunderstood and is sourced from unreliable¡ª}¡±
¡°{Tribulation is judgement,}¡± Ceruviel cut in firmly.
Aylar¡¯s perception tingled and she glanced around her with awareness, noting that more than a few people had edged closer upon seeing her questioning the Dusk-Lord. Nobles, Soldiers, Merchants, and every other worthy that had been able to find their way to the Royal Box were now looking to the Dusk-Lord¡ªto the one beacon of absolute safety they could rely on.
Like Aylar, they looked to her for answers.
¡°{Judgement?}¡± Aylar questioned while now acutely aware of the crowd.
¡°{¡®To they that seek the Mastery of Heaven, Judgement shall be delivered, and unto them is the task to forfend or fall. Such is the price of aspiring to the path of the Transcendant.¡¯ That is the truth of Tribulation, Princess: it is a System-enforced phenomenon that demands proof of worthiness. It only happens during Tempering, when an individual defies the constraints of the System to aspire to power far beyond normal acquisition.}¡±
¡°{He is Tempering? Now?}¡± Aylar asked in shock.
¡°{No, he is not doing anything,}¡± Ceruviel answered with a mix between grim understanding and, unless Aylar was mistaken, fierce approval. ¡°{Achilles has invoked the aspiration to transcendence. For the first time in recorded history, a Novice has dared to defy the constraints of the System. Do you not understand what this means, Princess? Do none of you understand?}¡±
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The last was addressed to the crowd and Aylar turned to see shocked and confused expressions among them all. It wasn¡¯t until Earl Brightblade stepped forward and spoke that anyone offered insight.
¡°{Your Grace, are you implying that your Squire has Divine Lineage?}¡±
A ripple of shock ran through the assembled, none moreso than the Terran Merchants. They, Aylar saw, reacted most viscerally: with looks mixed between surprise, disbelief, and just as she had been told in her Council; with hope.
¡°{I do not know the answer to that question, Brightblade,}¡± Ceruviel answered with an echo of rare and genuine respect for the Knight. ¡°{I can only tell you that he is no ordinary Terran. I have mentored him for a week, and in that time I have seen him perform feats that defy everything I know a Novice to be capable of.}¡±
¡°{And you did not think to inform the Council of¡ª?}¡±
¡°{Which Council should I have informed, Brightblade?}¡± Ceruviel cut in coldly. ¡°{The traditional and arguably legitimate one under the male heir, or the non-traditional and more preferable one under the eldest daughter?}¡±
A wave of stunned silence met her question, and the Dusk-Lord snorted.
¡°{What I do is nobody¡¯s business but my own. Do not mistake my fondness for the Princess as being under your heels. Uriel and I may bow to the throne, but nobody has yet claimed the right to sit upon it. Do not forget, it is the Dawn-Lord and I that are charged with the Stewardship of this colony until a rightful monarch appears.}¡±
That sent a stark silence through the crowd, and Aylar resisted the urge to rub the bridge of her nose in frustration. Pushing Ceruviel Latherian on anything relating to politics was like igniting a fireball in a room filled with unstable mana. It was a miracle she hadn¡¯t said worse. What was even more discomforting was that the Duchess was also one hundred percent correct.
Aylar knew that she and Braedon were not figures of legitimate authority yet, not until one of them passed the Rite of Ascension. The Dawn-Lord and Dusk-Lord were appointed by her Father, and until such time as the Monarch of the new colony was selected, that mandate superseded the authority of mere potentiates. The Moonlight Duchess and Sunrise Duke were the two true rulers of Dawnhaven¡ªthey simply permitted her and Braedon to stretch their political legs in preparation for what came next.
Aylar opened her mouth to speak and potentially soothe the ire of the mercurial Archon, when a deafening rumble of thunder crackled across the sky. Her eyes, like those of all present, snapped to the heavens and she felt her blood run cold.
Boiling, blistering, boundless veins of scarlet energy rippled and stirred within the confines of the midnight clouds¡ªarcing across the localized weather event in terrifying displays of force. It was like something out of a novel, seeing the way that the System¡¯s power manifested itself with such terrible destructive beauty. She shivered despite herself, and felt her arms fold with instinctive defense under her breasts.
A strike from any single one of those forks of devastation would probably kill even a Second Tier Cultivator.
¡°{It is beginning,}¡± Ceruviel said in a voice that tense with expectation, then lowered her gaze toward the hole in which the Hydra had lurked, prior to Achilles detonating it. That had been a shock for everyone, Aylar included.
All eyes lowered to follow the Dusk-Lord¡¯s gaze.
From the hole in the arena, Achilles was rising.
The black-armored knight was born aloft on invisible currents, buoyed by the raw power of the System and elevated through the opening like what the Terrans called a messianic figure. His head was back, his lips were parted, and crackles of scarlet lightning¡ªnot unlike those writ large in the clouds above¡ªsnapped and danced around his person.
His helmet was gone, and though he held his blade in hand, it was gripped like he were unaware of it. Aylar¡¯s eyes widened, she glanced warily up at the clouds, and then her gaze swept the crowd. What had initially been the early stages of panic had stilled completely. Shouting voices had fallen silent, as if by unspoken unanimous agreement. Every species of citizen within Dawnhaven looked on with silent wonder, fear, curiosity, wariness, and even hope as the Terran Squire was borne on invisible wings.
The sky above thundered once more and Aylar reached out instinctively to grip Ceruviel¡¯s arm. For a wonder, the Dusk-Lord only reached over to settle her armored hand upon Aylar¡¯s fingers and squeezed gently.
¡°{Do not look away,}¡± she advised in a low voice, for Aylar¡¯s ears alone. ¡°{No matter what, Aylar, do not look away.}¡±
As if on cue, the clouds above rumbled once more, and rain fell from their depths¡ªmarking the arena in a deluge of mist and liquid.
A snarling boom of thunder rocked the sky above and shook the very walls of the arena with its force. Aylar remembered the Dusk-Lord¡¯s orders and her other hand rose to settle on Ceruviel¡¯s.
The first lightning bolt fell, exploded against the barriers shielding the audience.
The Heavens wept and sundered in fury.
The world shook with the System¡¯s power.
Aylar did not look away.
* * * * *
Uriel Aventus stood on the balcony of his office, attired in his gold-edged warplate, and looked out at the Arena of Dawnhaven. The boiling clouds, pillar of light, and localized storm captured his attention¡ªbut he said nothing despite the nervous energy of the Dawnguard Officers standing to his rear.
¡°{We do not know much, Dawn-Lord, but we think it has something to do with¡ª}¡±
¡°{Ceruviel¡¯s Squire,}¡± he answered simply, his voice a low baritone that silenced further speech other than a small wave of affirmations. Uriel¡¯s eyes, so often compared to two golden suns, narrowed faintly in consideration while he observed the building cacophany. He knew what was happening, more than anyone else barring perhaps his contemporary. Ceruviel had personal experience with Tribulation¡ªso did he.
¡°{Lock down the city,}¡± he instructed with a calm voice he knew they needed, ¡°{and seal the gates. Call up the Duskguard reserves and march them to secure the walls until 1800 hours¡ª}¡± he had come to quite enjoy this ¡®military¡¯ time the Terrans used ¡°{¡ªwhen the Dusk-Lord takes the watch. In the interim, marshal the Royal Guard and tell them I want them to meet me at the Arena.}¡±
¡°{My lord, to what end?}¡± asked one of his officers.
¡°{Ceruviel has unleashed something on Dawnhaven, and while I will not directly intercede with her eccentric proclivities usually, this concerns the well-being of the colony at large,}¡± Uriel explained without ire. It was good for officers to ask questions. That was how they learned.
¡°{Do you intend on confronting her, my lord?}¡± one of his Lance-Masters asked worriedly. It made sense that she was worried. Uriel knew the power of an Archon, and while he was quite certain he was Ceruviel¡¯s martial equal¡ªor even her superior in the arts of outright combat¡ªin the field, her Affinity gave her an edge even he knew had to be respected.
An Archon was never more dangerous than in a duel.
¡°{I intend on offering her my aid and my counsel,}¡± Uriel said instead of denying the young Haelfenn¡¯s inquiry. ¡°{Whether or not that results in amicable conclusion or a confrontation depends on our noble Dusk-Lord.}¡±
In his heart, Uriel knew Ceruviel loved Dawnhaven as much as he did, and wanted what was best for the city. He also knew she had only the best intentions for what she did, and that she worked tirelessly toward the idea of a more seamless integration of the native Terrans within their burgeoning Kingdom.
Despite knowing these things, however, there remained a greater consideration.
Their charge, per the will of His Majesty the King, was Dawnhaven¡¯s safety.
Uriel Aventus felt his Core ignite, and his golden gaze narrowed upon the signs of Heavenly Tribulation. Ceruviel¡¯s Squire might be a pathway of possibility for their future, or a portent of their doom. He did not know which the man was, but one thing was absolutely and irrevocably certain within the Dawn-Lord¡¯s mind.
His first duty was to Dawnhaven and its people.
Any threat to that had to be eliminated.
And if Ceruviel¡¯s Squire proved to be a threat, his duty was clear.
Even if he had to go through Ceruviel herself to see it fulfilled.