Who said¡ª¡°Two vast and trunkless legs of stone
Stand in the desert. . . . Near them, on the sand,
Half sunk a shattered visage lies, whose frown,
And wrinkled lip, and sneer of cold command,
Tell that its sculptor well those passions read
Which yet survive, stamped on these lifeless things,
The hand that mocked them, and the heart that fed;
And on the pedestal, these words appear:
My name is Ozymandias, King of Kings;
Look on my Works, ye Mighty, and despair!
Nothing beside remains. Round the decay
Of that colossal Wreck, boundless and bare
The lone and level sands stretch far away.¡±
He collapsed to his knees, as pure purpose rushed through him. He had just endured the full weight of the Law''s being. It rattled him to his core.
After the first memory, he thought he could handle it. He thought that he could rifle through the Law''s mind without the slightest repercussions. But now, as his mind, body, and soul screamed at the weight of what they had just endured, he found a warning.
And immediately disregarded it. That memory, and the inspiration that had created him, had opened his eyes. Whatever the Law truly was, its wealth of knowledge was immense. And necessary. He was Ozymandias, and he would have his kingdom. The stories offered truth and insight, which he would not refuse.
But perhaps he could just touch the smaller memories tonight. His soul still burned from the Law''s pure knowing.
Ozymandias would have his kingdom. He would have his order. He would have his truth.
Basics
Lasair finally had to confront her problems. Which was probably good, considering how many had built up. She had made a full mental list, as follows.
One: Upgrade [MINOR PYROMANCY] and [MAJOR MANA CONTROL]. No reason not to get stronger.
Two: Get [ASSIGN] positions for everything she had made. Again, no reason not to use the power.
Three: Experiment with [SOUL TETHER]. The bond with her favorite nightlight had potential, and she planned on making full use of it.
Four: Figure out structured mana. It was one hell of a daunting task, but the power and precision were too great to pass up.
Five: Look into the whole ''pledged to your cause'' thing. It sounded like a cult. Was the Adventurer''s Forge a cult? Did cults need a god? Was she a god? She didn''t feel like a god. And gods probably didn''t have incredibly detailed fantasies about committing arson. She sure hoped they didn''t.
Six: Abilities. Now that she had gotten a good look at the menu for creating them, Lasair was confident she could create one.
The plan was to knock out problems number four, six, and possibly three. An ability harnessing structured mana would be very nice, and having access to Apollo''s abilities and affinities wouldn''t hurt either.
First things first, she made a new [CHEST]. The first one had stored three [ARTIFACTS], but had only managed to hang on to [THE CIRCLE OF LIFE]. The new one would be situated in her core room, a far more defensible position.
She had spruced up the core room a bit. It, of course, had the perfect walls and corners that only [SHAPE SELF] could provide. A solid gold plinth held her core, which still glowed a deep crimson with cracks of white from the first [SOUL BOND].
The only tunnel to the Aviary was filled with [SMALL FLAMETHROWERS], so privacy was not a concern. Even if that bastard of an ice mage came back, she had three more [LIEUTENANTS] now, all of whom would probably enjoy kicking his ass. Even Midas might get up from his napping to help out. Wherever the little guy was. She still hadn''t found him.
Midas awoke, fully rested. That was a very nice nap. Best follow it up with another nap. His napping spot still didn''t seem to have noticed him, which was slightly disappointing. Ah well. He curled up again, getting one last glance outside before he fell into slumber once more.
A simple wooden sign, hung from a high stone wall.
Now entering Willowdale.
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Now, to actually make the ability. Lasair had Apollo come down to the core room, as distance seemed to have at least a slight effect on [SOUL TETHER]. He floated in as calmly as ever, humming a small tune.
She had an idea of what she wanted to make. It had to do with Apollo''s hypnosis. Specifically, how it affected the mind. The ice mage had a skill called [COMMANDING PRESENCE], which sent a tendril of mana directly into the target''s mind and forced it to comply.
Apollo''s [MANA-DRIVEN SONG] worked more on context. It wrapped the target''s mind in the illusion and sensation of a situation in which they would act the desired way. With putting elf boy to sleep, instead of just forcing his mind to shut down, Apollo made him feel genuinely tired and exhausted.
It was a far less invasive way of going about things, and seemed more efficient anyway.
What Lasair wanted to create was a shell around the caster that deflected context, making anyone else''s mind just skip over them. It was simple in theory, but she only had a basic idea of how to apply it.
What made it even better was that an ability like that would be perfect for the little thief. His [CORE''S SPYMASTER] class gave a good hint to what he got up to, and what was basically invisibility would be a great help.
The issue was will.
Apollo had to remove the current context to replace it with his desired effect. This was hard against anyone that was very perceptive or grounded in their situation. Surprise attacks like on elf boy often worked, but that was not going to be useful for a passive ability.
Maybe she could just hope the ability grew as its owner leveled. If this were a game, the ability she had in her head would probably be chance to not be detected, with the chance getting better as you leveled up. With the weird as all hell system, that might just work.
She opened the [ARTIFACT] menu, and Apollo''s eye cracked open as the [SOUL TETHER] sent his ability over to Lasair. It rushed in all at once, a sensation full of trumpeting brass and crashing symbols. And it was perfect.
She formed the shell with whispers, small notes drifting on the wind. Relax. Unwind. There was nothing dangerous here. There was nothing at all.
She reinforced it with suggestions. Look away. Turn around. Forget you ever saw this.
She tied it all together with demands. STOP. YOU SEE NOTHING. HOLD YOUR TONGUE, LEST I TURN IT TO ASH.
And the cherry on top, a calling card. Something you would only find after the job was done, and the smoke had cleared. A smell. A simple little scent, that would come to be recognized as the smell that followed devastation.
The sultry sweet smell of burning hickory.
[MANA-DRIVEN SONG] had built the shell, but Lasair reinforced it with [MAJOR MANA CONTROL]. It was a simple trick. One of the very few things she had discerned of structured mana, which just happened to be a staple of all code.
An if-then.
The framework on which all functions rested. If someone hits this button, if they scroll down, if HP reaches zero. As she compacted mana further than ever before, she wove a simple line into the ability''s structure.
If it doesn''t work, Then just run the damn thing again!
The ability would be pretty expensive for the caster, but even if someone saw through it, the repeated application would be incredibly disorienting.
It snapped together like a perfect puzzle. The whispering notes of [MANA-DRIVEN SONG]. The perfect scent of blazing hickory. The cold and calculating power of mana. And it was done. Suspended inside the open chest was a newly crafted orb, flickers of grey in a sea of black.
[INSPECT]: [HARMONIOUS IGNORANCE]: THEY WILL SEE NOTHING, FOR THERE IS NOTHING TO SEE.
Hell yes.
Guess Whos Back
Tobias was back in Willowdale. He had only been gone a few days, but it had felt like an eternity. And he had so, so much to show for it.
He had passed through the gate only moments ago, and already one of his boys was making a report.
"Lord Sullivan ''as been getting riled up. Rumor ''as it that he plans to ask for a few adventures from the capital to help him clear the [DUNGEON] out."
Mateo was a slender kid, and was short enough that the nickname ''twig'' was fairly fitting. He had a shock of pale blond hair, just a few shades away from white. He was also one of the most directly powerful of Tobias'' boys, having been lucky enough to unlock [LESSER ELECTROMANCY] naturally.
The message he delivered normally would have caused quite a bit of panic. Anything that had a noble ''riled up'' was not good for the town as a whole. But now, after seeing the power of the [DUNGEON]?
"Let them try. It''ll be good to be rid of Sullivan."
He had no doubt that if the noble returned to the Adventurer''s Forge, he would only be leaving as ash. Good riddance.
"Spread the word, meeting at sundown. The safehouse. I''ve got something big to tell everyone."
The boy nodded rapidly, making a mess of his already tousled hair.
"You the boss, boss. I''ll make sure we''re all there."
And the boy was gone, down into the alleyways and rooftops that were and always would be Tobias'' domain. The nobles ruled the town, but he ruled its streets.
He crept through the shadows, his new class making them more inviting than ever. Already it was helping him to pick up and sort through all the little tidbits of information that filled the Bazaar streets.
"...ord Sullivan was seen at the tavern for the fifth time this week! The man buys so much ale that the barkeep is thinking of retiring!"
"Three silver! Do you take me for a madman! It''s worth two at most, and that''s me being generous!"
"Stupid fucking [DUNGEON]. Nothing but a hole in the ground. Going to fucking kill that thing..."
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Tobias whipped his head towards the last bit of sentence he caught. Though he was under a cloak and his voice was tinged with the anger of drink, it was easy to recognize Lord Sullivan himself, stumbling into an alley.
Stumbling into Tobias'' domain.
He darted across the streets and between the stalls, closing in on his prey. The man was leaned up against a wall, hardly able to stand. The empty bottle in his hand gave a good explanation as to why.
A grin flickered across his face. He raised his hand, just for dramatic effect, and with a snap of his finger [LOREM IPSUM] leapt towards the noble. The noble who was in no state to fight or run, and in a position where no one would hear or care about his screams.
He hadn''t realized it at the time, but [FACT''S PERSISTENCE] had still been helping him against the effects of [LOREM IPSUM]. The ability wasn''t even targeting him, and he could still tell the difference.
There were no letters. No symbols. Instead there were whispers. They said the same thing as the symbols, but the delivery was so different that it might as well not have been the same ability.
The voices. Some whispered the words like they were a final hope for salvation. Some as if they were begging for their life. Some spit them like a curse delivered with their last breath. Some whimpered them like a plea not to be hurt. But they all had one thing in common.
Pain.
Every single voice was tinged with the burn of pain. The pain of starvation, of desperation, of betrayal, and of torture. And they had all turned their screams onto one singular person.
Lord Sullivan immediately began to writhe around on the ground, dirtying his cloak and shattering his bottle. He didn''t seem to even register the grime or the broken glass as he clutched his head.
"Shut up! SHUT UP! SHUT UP!"
Tobias felt the pressure of [COMMANDING PRESENCE], and tensed as his jaw tightened enough that he wouldn''t be surprised at a tooth cracking. The noble rose to his knees as he coughed up blood, tracks of red already running from his ears. His eyes locked onto Tobias''.
"Make them stop. MAKE THEM STOP!"
His last shout was accompanied by a spear of ice being flung at Tobias. His eyes widened. There was no way he could dodge that. Or deflect it. Or even steal it. he was dead.
The ice stopped.
It hung in the air, trembling. Slowly, a set of glowing blue fangs materialized, holding it in place. They were followed by a lizard that seemed to form out of pure mana, solidifying into a small creature with small, slightly glowing crystal horns.
It dropped from the air, and the ice spear shattered. [LOREM IPSUM] had deactivated, but still, the noble was on his knees. Staring at the lizard in shock.
It disappeared for just a moment, and reappeared with its maw close enough to brush Lord Sullivan''s throat. It leaned in next to his ear, and with all the venom of a demon, hissed three words.
"NOT SHINY. FILTH."
It disappeared again, and a moment later it was perched on Tobias'' shoulder. He strode out of the alley, leaving the noble behind. Leaving the bloody, terrified and furious noble behind.
His heart beat wildly. But not from fear. That had been fun. Watching someone who thought they were better simply because be proved wrong. Watching them squirm. In the end, Sullivan wouldn''t be worth the knife that slit his throat. But that was still a little ways away.
He had a meeting to get to, after all.
Guild
Midas was rather peeved. Some filth had tried to make his new favorite napping spot cold! Did it even know how much that made his scales itch? This new place had many shinys, but that thing had certainly not been one of them.
At least the new place seemed to make up for it. He was curled up in the hood of Napping Spot. At least the equivalent of the hood in the Shiny Place. Swimming through the Shiny Place for this long was a bit uncomfortable, but it beat the real world, where his own shinys might get stolen.
Every now and then, when Napping Spot was well hidden, Midas would flicker into the real world for a few moments. And what he saw was amazing! So many shinys, in so many different forms!
The majority were just like his own shinys. A metal circle with weird pictures on it. Although some were less shiny, but still shiny. That was weird. They weren''t not shiny, but he felt almost instinctively that they were worth far less.
The rest were far more varied. Weapons, jewelry, treasures, and oddities galore! Midas had never seen such beauty before! There was so much to do, see, get, and Midas wanted it all!
Napping Spot kept moving. Slithering through the shadows, the strange thing seemed to take an odd pride in not being seen. How odd. Why, if he had no shinys, would he seek to hide? Why not flaunt your existence, and steal and bite all those who would challenge it?
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Elves were strange things.
They reached a gate. Napping Spot was fully within the embrace of the shadows, so Midas slipped out of the Shiny Place and back into the hood. Two other elves sat in front of the gate, playing with small paper rectangles. One sat proud while the other was slumped over.
"And that''s game! You owe me twenty copper!"
"Cheating bastard..."
The slumped one handed the proud one shinys. Midas'' eyes widened as the old friend called greed knocked on the door of his mind. It was welcomed in with haste. He dove into the Shiny Place, and swam to claim the shinys.
He reached the threads and outlines that made up the undeserving things, and he shoved as many of the shinys as he could within his Hoard. He got to three before the lines that held the shinys flew away, and a voice boomed out towards the other elf.
"You calling me cheating? This is only seventeen you arse! Give me what i''m owed!"
"I gave you twenty you greedy half-wit, now fuck off!"
The two clumps of lines yelled a few more obscenities at each other before they began to fight. Punches flew, and the men stumbled a bit further away from the gate in their fervor. Napping Spot suddenly dashed out from the shadows and crossed through the gate, forcing Midas to abandon the kinda-shinys in order to follow. He only got three!
He reformed in Napping Spot''s hood, and curled up to sleep off his disappointment.
"Thanks for distracting the guards. That was some quick thinking on your part."
Napping Spot kept prattling on about guards and patrols and meetings, but Midas could not give less of a fuck. It was nap time, he felt like napping, and he was on Napping Spot. The next and only course of action was rather obvious.
Meeting
Willowdale''s slums were a revolting place. Filth lined the crudely paved streets, beggars and pickpockets outnumbered those who actually had money ten to one, and a persistent aura of hopelessness covered the area.
All of this made it perfect for Tobias. An old abandoned tavern served as a hideout for his boys, and the city guards were loath to leave the town proper. Not to mention, unless he was directly caught by the guards, they would likely leave him alone. A good tenth of their salary came from all the information he paid for.
When all else abandons and betrays, turn to coin. It was a harsh sentiment, but an honest one. And the [LIEUTENANT] sent by the Core seemed to agree. It had not only used the guards'' greed to slip past them, but made a profit off it! The lizard would make an excellent thief, should guarding the [DUNGEON] ever grow boring.
It was an interesting creature. About as long as his arm, it was split fairly evenly between gray and blue. Blue was the color of its back, eyes, and fangs. Two blue tear tracks connected its jaws and eyes, giving the look of eternal mourning.
The gray covered its underbelly and tail. Despite the usual dullness of the color, the scales there shimmered like freshly polished steel, and seemed just as sharp.
Its last obvious aspect were the horns and spines. Two stubby horns sprouted from its head, and a row of spikes trailed down its back and tail. They were all composed of an almost clear crystal, tinged slightly white. Sporadically, they would pulse with blue light, casting the rest of its body in an ethereal glow.
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It could slip through the world faster than even a [PORTAL] spell. Not to mention, it stopped a fully powered spear from someone with [GREATER CRYOMANCY]. By biting it!
He opened the door to the hideout, home at last.
All forty of his boys were inside, seated at the various tables around the tavern. Mateo was waiting by the door, nervously biting his lip, and rushed forward when Tobias entered.
"Did you pass through the bazaar? Please say no. The entire guard has been hysterical! Lord Sullivan got attacked by a demon of the Legion of Nightmares! It could still be in town!"
Tobias took in the boys fear. His pallid face, his darting eyes, his shallow breathing. And he chuckled.
"Well, you''re right about the still in town part. There was no demon. Let''s just say that I met the [DUNGEON], and it gives rather interesting gifts."
The entire room had gone quieter at Mateo''s outburst, but you could hear a pin drop after Tobias responded. Every eye was locked on him, and the silence turned into a barrage of questions.
"Did you get a class?"
"What level are you now?"
"Neat. Did you bring back any beer?"
"Was it violent? Are you hurt?"
"YOU ATTACKED A NOBLE!?!"
Tobias waited until the questions stopped, and sent a disappointed glare towards the already drunk form of Sam slumped in the corner.
"[CORE''S SPYMASTER], six, no Sam I did not, no, no, and yes."
At the mention of four new levels and a completely unique class, the boys got even more shocked. Tobias grinned, and lifted his hand to his shoulder, clutching a single copper coin. A blue and grey lizard materialized from thin air and began chewing on it like a treat.
"This is a [LIEUTENANT] from the core. He can bite spells. Don''t know why he''s here, but he seems to be good company."
Geoff fainted.
Tobias had to hold back another laugh. This meeting of the Willowdale Thieves Guild was going to be a long night.
Artillery
Lasair was having fun. An incredible amount of fun. How does one have an incredible amount of fun, you ask? By causing mass destruction of course!
It had started as a team-building exercise. Something that all her [LIEUTENANTS] could do, along with herself. A goal that could be achieved only by using all of their abilities in tandem. Bombing the shit out of the forest.
Chunk began the process. He would slowly create a large boulder, pulling it from the floor and walls of the caverns. He would then shape it like a missile, and smooth out any imperfections. It was as tall as him, and about a third as wide.
Ozymandias would call a few tendrils of shadow over. They writhed and squirmed, trying to escape his control, but he was slowly getting better. [LESSER UMBRAMANCY] would likely upgrade soon. Anyway, the tendrils would lift the shell off the ground by a few centimeters. It was all Ozymandias could handle for now, but it was enough.
Lasair herself would use [MINOR PYROMANCY] directly under the shell, using her energy to corral as much mana as possible into the blast. She tried to focus the explosion as much as possible, and her work was rewarded. The shell shot off into the air, flying out of the Aviary.
Apollo was the targeting system. He was putting [MANA-DRIVEN SONG] into overtime, forcing it to function as a sonar of sorts. It was vague and mostly inaccurate, but good enough. He could find suitable targets, such as a certain small hunting party of goblins.
Mirage was what pulled it all together. She and Apollo were hovering between the Aviary and the clouds, right in the path of the shell. When it reached them, she met it with a single talon, and it stopped dead in the air.
A thick haze spread as all its momentum turned to heat, forming into tendrils that slowly turned the shell until the point faced the target. Apollo made a few minute corrections to the aim, but then it was ready.
All the haze in the air vanished, along with everything in Mirage''s bank. The shell moved so fast it blurred, speeding towards the goblins like the fist of an angry god. It hit, and then there was nothing but a spray of dirt and red mist.
Target eliminated.
Ozymandias found this assault enlightening. He knew it was naught but practice, and yet it still sent a rush through his mind. There was history behind this weapon, crude imitation it may be. A history so bloody that he could almost see the pools of crimson.
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His fellow disciple of the Law finished another. It was slowing down in production, likely growing tired. He could not afford to do the same. Not if he wanted his authority to remain unquestioned.
The shadows were vindictive, conniving, rebellious things. They sought to overthrow him. They sought to take control. They sought to take his kingdom, however small, with all the glorious truths he had stored within.
The truths of the Law.
He had investigated a few more of the twisting black stains and the pure white tethers, but nothing quite as compelling as his own inspiration. He had not attempted to understand the inspirations of his fellow disciples yet, but he would soon enough. For now, the stains around this act would serve well.
They were nothing like what he had seen before. They were not wisps of shadow, nor mere illusion. They were impenetrable clouds that blotted out the sky in their path, poisoning reality with their very presence.
He touched one.
Ozymandias was standing in a grand room. The floors were polished, the lighting was impeccable, and the size was baffling. Not to mention the displays. Grand cages of glass and steel were scattered throughout the room, containing relics of the past.
Silhouettes of mist were gathered in front of the displays, frozen in the action of observing. Observing the past. Observing the truth.
He strode up to one. In the center of the glass, perched on a stand, was an odd contraption. It was made of metal and wood, with a cylinder being its main piece. Behind that there was an odd handle, along with a belt of strange metal rods. Sticking out from the handle, a small piece of metal curved back towards the cylinder. A trigger, his mind whispered.
And then, it told him its story.
The M1917 Browning. A weapon of steel and blood. A great achievement, advancing the slaughter of enemies forward into the future. Ammunition shot so fast and so many times that it grew too hot to hold. Four hundred and fifty shots per minute.
And just over three million killed at the hand of it and its kind, the machine gun, in just a single war.
Ozymandias recoiled from the cage, the weight of truth bearing down on his soul. The edges of this dream were already receding, the walls and cages crumbling into dust. He had no time for another story. The real world called.
He knew that the stains would remain, if only for a short time. He would be back. But it still wouldn''t be enough to see even a fraction of the truths within this... this... Museum. That''s what this was. A place solely dedicated to the collection of ancient truths, and their stories.
He loved it with all of his void-touched heart.
He gazed around the crumbling hall. He may as well find a story to listen to next time, just so he doesn''t waste time deciding.
Ozymandias beheld great skeletons, ancient blade, coffins and relics of long dead kingdoms. And weapons of war even more deadly than the story he had already seen.
But he decided on none of these.
No, what he decided on was a simple tome. Its title was but four words, four beautiful words. He could feel its presence, its wisdom, its truth.
I will be back for you, my friend.
And with that final thought, Ozymandias returned to reality. Within the memory, an ancient book fell to the crumbling floor, it title proudly displayed to the ceiling.
The Art of War.
Inspirations of Storm and Chaos
Ozymandias, regretfully, would not have time to study the tome. Unlike the weapons, he could not simply demand its story. He had to actually read it. And with the memory collapsing after only a minute or two each time he entered it, the amount he could glean from the book was minimal.
However, he was certain that he would have it eventually. As his power grew, he would likely be able to stay inside the memory far longer, and exhibit greater control over the space in which he viewed it. Once he was strong enough, he would simply ask the Law to bring forth the memory once again, and he would have his knowledge.
Once he was strong enough. It sounded rather easy, but the memories were not something so simple to practice. Ozymandias couldn''t just watch a memory over and over, he had to actually push his boundaries. Which led him to the idea of inspirations.
He and his fellow disciples all had one tether of white connecting them to the Law that was stronger than all the others. No matter how close or precious a memory or sin was formed, it could never hold a candle to an inspiration. For that inspiration was their name, their being, their purpose.
His own had been a poem. A set of rhythmic words, lulling and enthralling all who listened, to listen to its story. A story of a king. One who ruled the grandest kingdom of them all, and stood above every other mortal in the world. One who had fallen to, of all things, the weight of time.
It was a purpose, but it was also a challenge. Ozymandias was no mortal. Time would only grow his power, not lessen it. He would rule, but he would not fall. Not to time, nor to any other enemy.
He chose the winged thing first.
It was imposing, around his size, but so much more deadly. Its black and crimson feathers stood out, brighter than they should be on any natural being.Yet, It''s eyes were the most telling.
Above the claws like knives, the beak like a spear, and the control over wind and flame, the eyes seemed the most dangerous. They darted ever which way, constantly searching for danger. They contained a challenge, not unlike his own inspiration.
Catch me if you can.
The Law was idling around at the bottom of the room, so the tether was within reach. Ozymandias drew his sword, and with a final glance towards the regal form of the beast, slashed through its tether.
He awoke in a desert. Sand stretched for as far as he could see, with nothing above but a clear blue sky.
And an oasis.
It was far off, but looked beautiful. Tall and leaning trees, a pool of crystal clear water, and nice green shrubbery breaking the monotony of the sand. By his best estimate, it would take maybe half an hour to walk to it.
And so he began.
As he walked, Ozymandias pondered. This was an inspiration. Even if it was taken only as a challenge, like with his, it still was part of the foundation of a being''s soul. And this desert had not shown much similarity to the bird. It was strange.
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The best way to describe the desert would be desolate. Yet, the bird seemed full of nervous energy, not lazy emptiness. The oasis looked promising and fulfilling. Yet, the bird seemed prepared for any danger or threat. The sky was clear and calm. Yet, the bird whipped the wind into a frenzy.
It was strange.
As Ozymandias approached the final stretch of the journey, he saw the oasis in more detail. Or rather, lack of detail. It was hazy round the edges, and the previously pristine image now took on a more fragmented appearance.
He strode forward to investigate, and the oasis withered away. Within a moment, all that it had to offer turned to nothing but more sand. The trees, the water, the shrubs, all gone. As if they had never been there at all.
He whipped his head around, searching for an explanation. And saw another oasis. The strange thing was, it looked like the mirror image of the one he had just approached. And he was sure he should have seen it on his way to the previous one.
It was strange.
This time, Ozymandias ran. He reached the next oasis far faster, but just like the last one, it withered away. Again, with no explanation as to how or why. As if it had never been there at all.
Another, in the distance, hidden between two dunes.
He ran.
It withered.
Another, further away, across a long flat stretch of sand.
He threw himself forward with shadows, limited to using only his own in this bright place.
It withered.
Another, closer this time, perched perfectly atop a dune.
He bounded towards it on legs of darkness, stretching his power to the limit.
It withered.
Another, at the very edge of his vision, at the apex of a veritable mountain of sand.
He flew towards it, shadows pulling him forward faster than ever. They too were desperate for answers.
It withered.
And in its place, a storm appeared. Wind funneled the sand through the air, forming into a crude approximation of a bird. It flew straight for him, soundless and terrifying. The sand and wind pushed him stronger than any hand could, throwing him down the dunes.
Gales tore his sword from his hand, and ripped apart his shadows whenever they took solid form. The grains held him to the ground, slowly burying him in the very ground he walked over.
His mask and crown were worn down in the constant barrage, flecks of ruby drifting off to join the storm of sand. His own form degraded next, the wisps of darkness either being taken by the wind or buried by the sand.
And Ozymandias withered.
As if he had never been there at all.
He stumbled back, still tasting his own death in the air. His fear towards both the Law and its feathered disciple growing tenfold. Its inspiration was brutal, misleading, one of constant running and evading until a devastating storm was unleashed.
It had been enough to kill him, even if it was just a dream.
As he reeled away, he tripped. It was such a simple thing. A simple stumble, and his was falling towards the floor. His hands flew out to catch himself, and caught on a string. One that stretched towards the outside world, with no end in sight.
One tinged with red.
Ozymandias landed in a pile of gold. It was made of all manner of things. Coins, goblets, trinkets, weapons, people. And it laid before a throne. And on that throne, there laid a being so powerful that he felt as if his soul was being shoved away, hiding from what could only be a god.
On that throne, a god made of twisting red lines and flashing, pulsing lights sat. A god whose form seemed to change every other moment. A god who seemed to defy reality itself, and who would win that battle.
A god of Chaos.
It looked him in the eyes, smiling with a mouth of dagger-like teeth, and Ozymandias heard but one thing before he was ripped from the dream.
"You aren''t supposed to be here."
Throne of Mayhem
Mayhem, for once, was very thoroughly entertained. He hadn''t seen a [DUNGEON] this interesting in at least two thousand years! Not to mention the core controlling it. Every expectation had been subverted, and he could only hope it continued on its path.
Life as a god was boring. Boring boring boring. Even with a domain such as Chaos, there was only so much to see. Wars, invasions, revolutions, and all those other mortal squabbles lost their charm after only the first millennia. Armies couldn''t hold a candle to his strength, so he wasn''t exactly kept on the edge of his seat watching them fight.
And the Rules! The cursed, revolting, horrible Rules. His equal and opposite, the god Edict. The creator of the annoying System that had limited his options for entertainment even more. Sure, elves and dwarves and all the other insignificant pests were actually a bit powerful now, but that power wasn''t just contained. It was fucking cataloged!
All the fire under [PYROMANCY], all the rocks under [GEOMANCY], and all the ice under [CRYOMANCY]. On and on it went, with only a few interesting ones remaining. And even those got their own label, a little ''Edict was here'', just to mock him.
But finally, FINALLY, Mayhem had an opportunity to take something back. The new [DUNGEON], in particular a certain [LIEUTENANT]. The little shit bit Edict''s System. Fucking bit it! And stole from that bitch Nyx too! Truly a lizard of culture, might even have to make it an [BLESSED], use Edict''s own System against him. That would be even more entertaining than the last battle with the Legion of Chance.
The lizard, however weak, was a link to the world of Adtalani. A link to Edict. A link to vengeance.
And it had a rather good taste in interior decorating as well. Mayhem, like any god worth their domain, could enter the dreams of his devout. Or, those who gained his affinity. Luckily, the lizard seemed to take napping just as seriously as breathing.
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The dream was a grand throne room, much like the place he had banished that little wraith from. He still had no idea how something that wasn''t even level ten had managed to pull him into a pocket realm, but that wasn''t the point. It seemed that the little reptile had an insatiable lust for gold, in its own dreams especially.
The floor was made of golden tiles, the pillars holding up the ceiling were gold, and the throne itself nearly outshone his divine glow. Nearly being the keyword. His red glow cast an amazing light show on the piles and piles of wealth scattered throughout, the color covering every nook and cranny of the room.
He twirled one of the coins in his claws, admiring the detail. Normally, dreams were quite vague with ''background'' objects, but every coin was perfectly rendered. With the minor change of displaying the lizard''s head instead of the king''s silhouette, of course.
And scampering over the sea of these coins, was the little shit itself.
"OFF, OFF! THRONE MINE! MINE MINE MINE MINE MINE MINE MINE MINE MINE MINE MINE MINE MINE MINE MINE MINE MINE MINE MINE MINE MINE MINE MINE MINE MINE MINE MINE MINE MINE MINE MINE MINE MINE MINE MINE MINE MINE MINE MINE MINE MINE MINE MINE MINE MINE MINE MINE MINE MINE MINE MINE MINE MINE MINE MINE MINE MINE MINE!"
It launched itself at him jaws first, but Mayhem simply caught it with a laugh.
"Well, well, well. You finally noticed me. Not quite the welcome I was hoping for, but such ferocity must be applauded. How would you like to make a deal, little one? We share a common enemy, the Rules. Together, we might just get rid of them. Along with their creator. How does that sound little one? No Rules ever again. And all you need to do, is let me give you a few gifts."
The lizard''s eyes dilated immediately, the pinpricks filling with rage and hunger. Useful emotions. Of course, Mayhem had omitted a truth or two from his proposal, but lighten up! He was the god of Chaos, he had to have a little fun. And if that fun came in the manner of giving a major blessing to a being that could barely speak, who could blame him. Not the lizard, as it would either be in his debt or a fine red mist. Chaos mana wasn''t exactly painless to have injected into your soul.
"Midas strong! Rules tasty! RULES DIE!"
A smile crept onto Mayhem''s face.
"Yes little one, yes they will."
And with that, he stripped away the useless touch of Nyx, and replaced it with his own. For the first time in centuries, a [BLESSED OF MAYHEM] descended to Adtalani. This was going to be fun.
And win or lose, it would be so very entertaining.
SECOND STORY!!!
I made a second story!!! Link and synopsis below in the note!
Obligatory line of a to get to 500 character so I can post this:
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Chilling With Chunk
The Adventurer''s Forge was ready for business. It had been about a week and a half since elf boy and Julian left, so she wouldn''t have to wait much longer. Especially if the little thief returned. Along with Midas, wherever he had gone.
The Aviary was ready to act as an arena, with the walls, floor, and mural renewed. Lasair had bolstered the numbers of all her creatures but [MANAMANDERS], as those had yet to prove useful except Midas. She had also raised most of them to a reasonable level, with the average for any given group being around level three.
Her [LIEUTENANTS] had all been doing... something. Apollo had been practicing illusions with his [MINOR LUMENMANCY], in hopes that it would be useful with his hypnosis. Mirage had been doing precision practice with her [MAJOR AREOMANCY]. Ozymandias had been doing meditation of some kind, where he would just stare off into space and then act like he had some kind of revelation.
Most interesting of all was Chunk. He was vibing.
No practice, no training, no worries. All he had done in the few days of his existence was create a small garden bed in her core room, and then pester Mirage until she grabbed some plants from the outside. He had a few different varieties now, and was seeming to enjoy the very basics of gardening. He was having fun trying, at least.
The interesting part was that the laid back routine had already earned him [MINOR GEOMANCY]. She was fairly certain that all he had done and had continued to do was garden and make the occasional vase. They were very good vases though. Maybe he just got the level for his precision, as most of his work seemed to have few mistakes.
Whatever all of them were doing, she hoped they were having fun.
Mirage wanted [GREATER AREOMANCY]. She wanted it so, so bad. It would give her the same control over air that the cold one had held over ice. The amount of control that would let her be all the faster to run, and all the stronger to fight. But strength was not everything. Hence, precision.
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It was another idea from Mother''s world. A vacuum, they called it. Well, they called more than one thing a vacuum, but she didn''t mean the cleaning tool. It was a contained space with nothing in it. Not just nothing, but nothing. No pressure, no resistance, no air. An area of pure nothing. And she wanted to make one.
It was a grueling endeavor. She hadn''t quite realized just how much stuff made up what she controlled. Simply put, things wanted to be. Just be. Exist. And she was actively trying to defy one of the most strict natural laws.
But she was sure of one thing. If she could figure it out, it would be immensely powerful. Imagine, an enemy going to breathe, and finding their lungs filled with nothing. It would be devastating. It would be precise. It would be strong.
And she would be fast enough.
Apollo was rather annoyed. Why did light have to be so fast? Several times now, he''d almost had enough control to make an illusion, just for it to slip out of his grasp. Light was like a child refusing to do something purely on the principle that they were asked to. He could feel it resisting, breaking his hold with a far too smug feeling.
But illusions would be so useful if he could unlock them!
His hypnosis would become stronger by leaps and bounds. With the way it worked based on context, being able to create ''real'' context would be incredible! He would have so much more strength and control with his demands, and would be better at defending Mama!
He knew she needed it, with all the trouble she had caused him. [SOUL TETHER] twinged at the thought.
And even just having illusions for their usual purpose would be nice too. Trickery was fun, as with all forms of deceit. He would make Mama proud, and show anyone who messed with his home just how much he had grown.
Apollo would not stop at showing them. If necessary, he would demand the understanding.
Ozymandias was pensive. He had seen only two of his fellow disciples'' inspirations, and both had been utterly horrifying. It made him reluctant to speed forward in his quest for truth. What if he stumbled across something so incomprehensible that it shattered his mind? What if he saw whatever inspiration had birthed the Law?
But his practice had been worth it. He could hold the lesser memories for far longer now, and exert control over them to a certain extent. The most he had been able to do so far was shift his view around, not being limited to the perspective of the memory holder.
But it was progress. He would have his truth. He would have his kingdom. And they would know him, they would all know him.
Ozymandias, king of kings.
Chunk was vibing.
Earn it.
Tobias, for the second time in his life, was about to enter The Adventurer''s Forge. He was prepared, but the same could not be said for the majority of the four he had brought with him.
Mateo was an obvious choice to bring along. With his general ambition and his [LESSER ELECTROMANCY], the faster he could grow the better. His skill was already fairly strong, and anyone who could get [ELECTROMANCY] to a higher tier was one to be feared. Although, he was the one afraid right now. Apparently everything Tobias had told them was ''horrifying'' and ''absolutely some kind of Demon plot''. Ridiculous. It was only one of those things.
Geoff, despite how easily scared he was, had a level and kind head on his shoulders. Him getting stronger was the whole guild getting stronger. He had no abilities right now, but the [DUNGEON] been able to gift Tobias one. Hopefully, it was still feeling generous. The boy had fainted at the entrance to the cavern already, and even after waking back up he was already about to faint again.
Sam was a lot more than people gave him credit for. He had an ability known as [DEMEANOR]. If he acted in a certain way, he could play the part perfectly. The [SPY] class would be even better for him than it would have been for Tobias. His most often played role was the oblivious drunk. Who cares if the town drunk hears your secrets, it''s not like he''ll even remember past all the booze. Sam remembered, and had brought the guild some of the best information they had.
Hendrick was simply there because of his [TRANSLATE] skill. He had unlocked it after being the one to spy on enough tourists that he picked up most of a few different languages. It was like a specialized version of [FACT''S PERSISTENCE], used only to translate things. Tobias wanted to see if he could use it on the sign above the archway, or possibly even more of the [DUNGEON]''s secrets.
The final member of their impromptu party was the [LIEUTENANT]. It was an odd thing, usually either napping in his hood or wherever it went when it disappeared. A day into the journey back it had undergone a change, with all of the blue besides its eyes turning to a deep red. It was even more intimidating now, although it was easy enough to dispel such fears when it could be bribed with coins and belly rubs.
They reached the arch.
"Hendrick, see if you can read that."
Tobias pointed a finger at the runes above the door, trying to restrain [FACT''S PERSISTENCE] and [LOREM IPSUM] from making him read it. The skills seemed to call towards the runes, desperate to see just what came after Welcome.
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Hendrick took one look at the runes, and a blank look came over his eyes.
"I...I can''t. Nothing happens. What is it supposed to say?"
Tobias looked him in the eyes.
"It is nothing but a greeting. And still, there is so much power behind it that it makes your head swim. Does it not?"
The boy just gave a weak nod.
"It does."
[ALERT]
People in her [DUNGEON]? Lasair flew down to the entrance, and found the little thief. Behind him were four others of about his age. Three were seeming pretty scared, and one just seemed excited. Alongside them was Midas. Who had changed color. What the fuck Midas?
[STATUS LOADING...
[STATUS]: MIDAS
[CLASS]: [MANAMANDER], [LIEUTENANT], [ALL THAT GLITTERS]
[LEVEL]: 10
[AFFINITY(S]): CHAOS
[BONDED]: [DUNGEON CORE]{LASAIR}, [BLESSED]{MAYHEM}
[ABILITIES]: MANA CORRUPTION , ADVANCED SENTIENCE
What the fuck Midas?
Thankfully, Apollo drifted into the room, meaning it was no longer her problem. Good luck little guy, and remember to give them [HARMONIOUS IGNORANCE].
Apollo drifted into the Aviary with a ''good luck'' from Mama echoing in his mind. The thief was here. No matter the fact that Mama had forgiven him, the wisp couldn''t help but feel a bit of a grudge towards the boy. He had been too slow getting back to stop him before, but that was not the case now.
"Welcome to The Adventurer''s Forge."
He watched as a shiver passed through the group, Mama''s power washing over them as the name echoed.
"I am the [KEEPER OF THE FLAME], Apollo. This [DUNGEON] knows one of you. Who are the rest?"
The thief stepped in front of the other, hand drifting towards his dagger. How Apollo wished he would get the excuse for a bit of a spar. But alas, the boy remained civil for now.
"These are my fellow members of the Willowdale thieves guild. We have come here in hopes to grow our strength and take part in the gifts of this [DUNGEON]. Is there any objection to that?"
The boy seemed very cautious, as if this wasn''t expected. Sure he hadn''t been here last time, but had the kid really not expected to meet another [LIEUTENANT]? Mama already had five, and the thief was surprised when finding out there was a second? Shameful, really.
"No, I am simply here to supervise, and to provide said ''gifts''. First, show me what you can do."
The boy nodded, and gestured to one of the others behind him.
"This is Mateo, he can-"
"I did not say tell me thief. I said show me. Gifts must be earned after all."
Mama had told him to give the boy the ability stone no matter what, but the thief didn''t know that. Plus, revenge was fun.
So Apollo only grew happier as two golems walked out of the core room, with two birds perched atop their heads. The boys would likely be getting classes and gifts from Mama, but there was no reason not to make them work for it.
He wouldn''t kill any of them, but he would have some fun.
Clash of Minds
Mateo, unlike his ability implied, was not a very powerful person. Sure, he was strong when compared to any average elf, but that was true of anyone with an affinity. [LESSER ELECTROMANCY] had great potential, but at only stage one the most he could do was sparks. Very hot sparks, but still sparks. Which made them rather useless against the golem attacking him.
Why had he let the boss convince him to do this? After Tobias had told the Guild of all that had happened, it sounded like a great deal. Pledge yourself to a ''cause'', and get incredibly powerful abilities and eldritch truths to use against all those who oppose you. The boss'' story did not contain a massive wisp that made you earn the right to take the deal.
He scurried back from a stumbling punch, thanking every god he could remember that the golem was so slow. Mateo reached within himself and found that charged cloud that was his [ELECTROMANCY], and took it into his mental hold. Sparks poured from his eyes as tears, and rushed down his arms until they flew from his fingers. The golem might be immune to the damage, but it still needed to see. The light show gave him a few seconds to think and catch his breath.
Mateo again began the cycle of slowly chipping away at the golem until he needed to blind it, taking the breaks sparingly as the creature wised up to his actions.
The reward better be damn worth it.
Geoff slowly stroked the [FIRE-BIRD]''s wings, letting it peck at some jerky he had given it. Anything was possible with bribery. If bribery failed, offer a bigger bribe.
He watched his friends and boss fight for their lives, and smiled down at the bird perched on his arm.
"I''m gonna call you Larry."
[FAMILIAR CONTRACT ESTABLISHED.]
[YOU HAVE BONDED WITH [FIRE-BIRD]{LARRY}]
[ABILITY UNLOCKED: A FAMILIAR SIGHT]
"Hmm. A stick of jerky for a magic familiar. Good doing business with you Larry."
Sam used [DEMEANOR] to look defeated, drawing in the golem. He broke the act by rushing in and slamming the hilt of his dagger into its face. A small crack appeared, and the two combatants backed off to assess each other once again. But it wouldn''t do to let it get a good idea of what he could accomplish.
The boy cycled through all the roles he could, trying to confuse his enemy as much as possible. Noble, beggar, guard, doctor, innkeeper, child, defenseless, strong, dumb, smart, afraid, arrogant, father, son. Just keep it up. He played every role he knew before rushing forward again to hit the golem, distracted as it was from his ability.
[DEMEANOR] had more combat applications than most originally though. When the skill was used, it didn''t just change how he looked and sounded. It changed how he was perceived. So when he cycled it over and over again, it created a sort of mental backlash. On something as dumb as a golem, it was even more effective.
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This time he hit with the blade of his dagger, wedging it into the crack his last attack had caused. He still had a moment or two before it recovered, so Sam began to pry at the stone head to widen the crack. Fissures spread slowly, but the creature recovered. The boy was forced to back off, and [DEMEANOR] wouldn''t work as well the second time.
All mental change abilities were like that. If someone was expecting something to go wrong, they would find out a lot sooner when it did. Same with the mind. If the mind was expecting an attack, it was easier to fight that attack off. Mental fortitude was sometimes just as important as physical.
He feinted a rush forward, and the Golem overextended while going for a grab. Sam swept its surprisingly light stone legs out from under it, before tackling its prone form. He wedged the dagger in again, and immediately put his full weight into shattering the creature''s face.
It tried to pummel him with its fists, but apparently having your face pried off was rather distracting. With one final push, the stone gave way.
Sam held still as the energy flowed through him, settling in his soul. And then, the notifications began.
Four levels, in just one fight. Maybe this place wasn''t so bad after all.
Hendrick sprinted around the edge of the room, desperately trying to evade the flaming missile chasing him. It wasn''t even trying, just lazily following him in circles around the chamber. It could catch up in a moment if it wanted to. It was playing with him.
Hendrick did not mind in the slightest. Over losing his life or his pride, he would choose the latter.
Why was he even here? All he had to his name was [TRANSLATE], and that didn''t even work in this place. How the fuck something could completely negate the effects of a specialized ability he didn''t know, but it had. What was it? There was no way the core could write. It was simply too young. He would be surprised if it even knew it existed yet.
But what else could be pulling all this off? The [LIEUTENANT] that had greeted them was intelligent, but it would only have command over its own kind. And what kind of [DUNGEON] already had three different kinds of creatures this soon? It was confusing, impossible, and infuriating.
Hendrick put on another burst of speed. The bird looked like it was getting bored. It might actually start trying soon.
Tobias had to use every sliver of grace that [CORE''S SPYMASTER] granted him in order to avoid the bursts of flame. The [LIEUTENANT], Apollo, was mad. Not as in angry, as in insane. It just kept laughing. It laughed as a whip of heat almost took off a few of his fingers. It laughed as a burst of blinding light made his eyes stop working for a few moments. It laughed as a slow, graceful tone rose high into the air.
And higher.
And higher.
And higher.
Relax.
A voice entered Tobias'' mind. He felt [FACT''S PERSISTENCE] flare up, likely guarding him from the brunt of the attack. It was all he could do to resist the voice as he dodged and wove between the more physical attacks Apollo sent his way.
And higher.
And higher.
And higher.
Listen.
The voice grew louder. But this time, Tobias responded. He sent the full force of his ability at the wisp, muttering under his breath to keep his focus.
And higher.
"Lorem..."
And higher.
"Ipsum..."
And higher.
"Dolor..."
Fall. Break. Shatter. Submit. Lose. Sleep.
Lorem Ipsum dolor sit amet...
The physic attacks hit at the exact same time, and all physical combat ceased. They just stood there. Tobias with blood dripping from his ears as he bore the burden of his own skill, and Apollo''s flame slowly dwindling as the wisp poured more energy into his attempt.
They began again. Both desperate for the fight to end, they focused all their power into a single word each.
Yeild.
Dolorem.
The strikes proved too much for either combatant to bear, and they collapsed to the ground.
Im not dead!
hey guys, sorry about the hiatus. Its only been... OH SHIT ITS BEEN ALMOST 20 DAYS. Real sorry about that. Exams kicked my ass way harder than I thought they would, I had to get the computer I write with replaced, and relatives were dragging me all over for Christmas stuff. Sorry to say it, but I won''t be back to updating just yet. I need to catch up up drafts, finish getting everything set back up on this computer, and my family is dragging me on a trip. But rest assured I am not dead, nor is this story abandoned. See you eventually!
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-itsaparty
New Classes
[A DUNGEON''S PURPOSE]
A massive flood of energy poured into Lasair. Probably the most she had ever gotten from one fight. That meant the battle had been incredibly close. Wasn''t Apollo just supposed to be giving them the ability? and why hadn''t she gotten any pledge notifications yet?
As her viewpoint floated into the Aviary, all she saw was chaos. One boy was petting a [FIRE-BIRD] that she strangely couldn''t feel anymore. Another was crouched over a golem doing knife tricks as he watched the rest. The last two were both locked in struggle against a creature each.
And the little thief, along with Apollo, were unconscious on the floor. Midas was chewing on the wisp, and Mirage was in her perch overseeing the room with a smirk. She was a bird, how could she even smirk?
Lasair commanded the remaining two monsters to leave, and began infusing some mana with the life affinity. After about thirty seconds, the strands finally took on a green tint, and were woven into Apollo and Tobias.
Both began to rise, although the wisp shrunk in on himself when he noticed her attention. Lasair gave a mental sigh, and grabbed hold of him with mana.
Time out young man.
A slingshot of blue strands flung Apollo out of the ceiling, his light quickly fading as he got higher and higher.
"I regret nothinggggggg..."
The five elves all gathered in the middle of the room, with a few sending glares towards the little thief. They argued for a moment, but eventually all of the new ones made a pledge. As they did, the menus popped up into her view.
[[MATEO [LAST NAME NOT FOUND]] HAS PLEDGED TO YOUR CAUSE. CHOOSE DEVOTEE CLASS]:
CORE''S PRIEST
CORE''S PALADIN
CORE''S CULTIST
[[GEOFF [LAST NAME NOT FOUND]] HAS PLEDGED TO YOUR CAUSE. CHOOSE DEVOTEE CLASS]:
CORE''S PRIEST
CORE''S PALADIN
CORE''S CULTIST
[[SAM [LAST NAME NOT FOUND]] HAS PLEDGED TO YOUR CAUSE. CHOOSE DEVOTEE CLASS]:
CORE''S PRIEST
CORE''S PALADIN
CORE''S CULTIST
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[[HENDRICK [LAST NAME NOT FOUND]] HAS PLEDGED TO YOUR CAUSE. CHOOSE DEVOTEE CLASS]:
CORE''S PRIEST
CORE''S PALADIN
CORE''S CULTIST
One session of bribing Midas with gold coins later...
[[MATEO [LAST NAME NOT FOUND]] HAS PLEDGED TO YOUR CAUSE. CHOOSE DEVOTEE CLASS]:
CORE''S PRIEST
CORE''S PALADIN
CORE''S HARBINGER
[[GEOFF [LAST NAME NOT FOUND]] HAS PLEDGED TO YOUR CAUSE. CHOOSE DEVOTEE CLASS]:
CORE''S SUMMONER
CORE''S PALADIN
CORE''S CULTIST
[[SAM [LAST NAME NOT FOUND]] HAS PLEDGED TO YOUR CAUSE. CHOOSE DEVOTEE CLASS]:
CORE''S PRIEST
CORE''S INQUISITOR
CORE''S CULTIST
[[HENDRICK [LAST NAME NOT FOUND]] HAS PLEDGED TO YOUR CAUSE. CHOOSE DEVOTEE CLASS]:
CORE''S HERALD
CORE''S PALADIN
CORE''S CULTIST
The unique options were accepted, and Lasair made a point to ignore the fact that one of them was a replaced [CORE''S CULTIST].
[CORE''S HARBINGER]
Mateo felt the class settle into his soul. It almost felt like it was...talking to him. It whispered in his mind, not words, but ideals. Futures. Glory. And about all he had to do to realize them, was to lead the way. To smite and preach and kill and convince his way through any who stood in his way.
But what took his attention most was what it failed to tell him. A small portion of the whispers fell short of his mind. A portion who joined him in clawing and grasping and pulling until the knowledge broke through the thin resistance his mind had mustered. Mustered against the burning, the broken, the unnatural name.
L?????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????a?????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????s???????????????????????????????a?????????????????i??????????????????????????????????????????????????????????r??????????????????
As his eyes turned a deep crimson, and the name faded from his mind once again, Mateo could conjure only one thought,
What a lovely week for a crusade.
[CORE''S SUMMONER]
Geoff felt warm. It was an understandable feeling, as a bird that could throw fire was perched on his arm. But he also felt a different kind of warm. Like the feeling after a nice hearty meal. Yes, that was it. He felt full. Like his soul was straining against his body. And looking within, he found out why. His soul wasn''t alone. There was another, smaller but no less bright.
He pulled.
And another bird was perched on his shoulder. It was smaller than Larry, but the connection was just as deep. It was made of a glowing orange light. Besides for size and composition, the beast was a mirror image of Geoff''s new familiar.
[ABILITY UNLOCKED: LESSER FLAME SUMMON.]
The two birds immediately began fighting over the rest of his jerky. Neverminded the fact that one was a creature that didn''t need food to live and the other was made of pure mana and light.
"Harry. Harry and Larry."
[CORE''S INQUISITOR]
[DEMEANOR] HAS UPGRADED TO [DISGUISE].]
Sam''s mind felt bloated. Or like someone was taking a hammer to it. Perhaps both. A flood of information had entered his mind, all of it foreign and confusing. All for use by his new ability. New emotions, new languages, and new professions.
What was an ''engineer? What skills did a ''tiktok girl'' wield? What were the sage secrets of a ''crypto bro''? How would one defeat a ''discord mod''?
It was no matter. They were just more faces to wear, more cards in the deck. And he would use them to the fullest of their abilities.
Nobody would expect the Core''s Inquisition!
Hendrick passed out.