《Herald of death》
Chapter 1: Introduction
"Ding." The loud sound incites Ethan to remove his left earpiece. He looks around to find the source and sees his perplexed waitress a few meters away. The terrace of the cafe he''s patronizing falls silent. His dog, a Malinois usually so calm when ordered so, is glancing around frenetically.
The waitress resumes her steps. She sets an espresso and a set of croissants on Ethan''s table. "He''s so cute. Can I pet him?" she asks.
"Sure. Russ, meet," Ethan orders. Russ moves from under the table and sits in front of her to get pets.
"Your introduction to the system will begin," a ghostly feminine voice echoes sourcelessly. A flash of light precedes the appearance of a gray rectangle in front of both Ethan and the waitress. A car doesn''t brake in time and hits another at a red light. A cyclist falls from his bike. A scooter rider flies off his scooter as he hits a car. White writings fade in, filling the window.
Ethan Reed
Lv.0 (classless) Human
Strength: 16 Charisma: 12
Dexterity: 16 Perception: 16
Constitution: 15 Willpower: 18
Intelligence: 15
Ethan stands up in surprise. He realizes that Russ has a window of his own. Bending to his dog''s level, he reads it.
Russ
Lv.0 (classless) Dog
Strength: 8 Charisma: 6
Dexterity: 16 Perception: 22
Constitution: 8 Willpower: 14
Intelligence: 6
"What''s th ¨C," the waitress starts before interrupting herself. "I just heard the voice again."
As she looks around, Ethan peeks at her window.
Ana?s Leroi
Lv.0 (classless) Human
Strength: 7 Charisma: 13
Dexterity: 12 Perception: 9
Constitution: 7 Willpower: 5
Intelligence: 10
"I didn''t hear anything," Ethan says.
"Adding the Language (French) skill. Based on your previous experience a level of 76 has been applied," the voice says.
Ethan looks around, once again trying to guess the origin of the voice. "What the ¨C"
"Adding the Language (English) skill. Based on your previous experience a level of 86 has been applied." The voice announcements are almost identical, sharing the same intonations.
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"Russ, heel," Ethan orders to bring Russ to his side.
"Adding the Animal Handling skill. Based on your previous experience a level of 51 has been applied," the voice echoes. The windows blink out. "Enemies will appear around your location."
Ethan looks around and sees people panicking. Clients on the terrace and in the cafe rise from their seats. They stare in unison at the kitchen door as a red light escapes it.
Clatters of metal echo from behind the door, followed by short screams. The waitress recoils, letting go of her silver plate. Clients flee onto the street. The door creaks open, and an arrow hits the back of a fleeing man. He falls, hitting his head on a table''s corner.
Ethan kicks his table. "Down," he orders. Russ rushes to lie behind the table with Ethan.
A volley of arrows pierces the cafe glass fa?ade. Runaways fall to the ground, frozen by fear and pain. The arrows are crude, made of crooked shafts and stone heads.
Ethan grabs the waitress'' silver plate and uses it as a mirror. The blurry reflection shows red, childish figures moving inside.
Gunshots resonate in the distance. A small humanoid lizard wearing rags exits the cafe. It aims its bow at a crawling wounded woman. Ethan pressed on his car key, opening the trunk and several hidden compartments inside of it.
The creature releases its arrow and hits her thigh, drawing a scream. Ethan leaves his cover, bolting to his car parked along the cafe. The creature draws another arrow. Taking cover behind the vehicle, Ethan takes out a Glock 17 from the trunk. He shoots three rounds in the creature''s head, painting the terrace red. Another climbs on a table inside and receives four shots to the chest.
"Adding the Ranged Weapon (Pistol) skill. Based on your previous experience a level of 60 has been applied."
Ethan moves along the trunk, picking up an HK416 and a stun grenade with his left hand. Switching weapons, he goes back behind cover, regrouping with Russ. He can hear gibberish coming from inside. Arrows bounce against the table.
He pulls the pin and throws the grenade inside. "Center," he orders before a bang resonates.
"Adding the Throwing Weapon (Grenade) skill. Based on your previous experience a level of 42 has been applied."
Ethan moves in. He sees four of the creatures on the ground and shoots each of them several times. They advance towards the door, Russ moving between Ethan''s legs.
"Adding the Ranged Weapon (Assault rifle) skill. Based on your previous experience a level of 71 has been applied."
A creature jumps at Ethan with a dagger from below a table. Russ bites its arm and brings it to the ground. "Kill," Ethan orders. Russ releases his bite to go for the creature''s neck.
"Heel, down," Ethan commands as he takes cover behind the countertop. He peeks at the door and recoils before an arrow whistles past him. The creature is behind a metallic cabinet door. Ethan peeks again and shoots five times at the door, splatters of blood signaling his success.
"Center," he orders before moving to the side of the door. "Count," he whispers.
Russ tilts his head, listening, and whines twice. Ethan kicks the door, opening it to the right, and sets his muzzle to the left. A creature waits above a stove, daggers in hand. Ethan shoots twice, his muzzle pressed against the creature''s head.
Ethan steps away from the door and peeks to the right. He shoots through the door, hitting a creature arming a shot at the end of the kitchen.
"You obtained the "Slayer of the first incursion" title. Five characteristic points have been granted."
Ethan moves through the room, checking every corner and hiding spot. He tries to open the back door, but finds it locked. Inside the kitchen are the bleeding corpses of two cooks and a dishwasher.
A blue hue pierces through one of the creature''s hip pouches. Ethan uses kitchen tongs to retrieve the glowing crystal. Observing it, he drops it in his hand to stash it in his coat. As he moves his hand, Russ tries to grab the crystal. Ethan moves his hand upward. "Leave it," he orders. His grip tightens, and the crystal breaks. Light fills his sight, and the world around him turns to the rough, ocher walls of a cavern.
Chapter 2: Dungeon
As the blue light recedes, the place bathes in darkness. Ethan reaches for his phone and turns its light on. He finds himself alone in a long tunnel. ''I hope Russ is okay,'' he thinks.
Looking down at his phone, he notes that there''s no signal; his map displays his location as the middle of the Pacific Ocean. ''Eighty-three percent, nice,'' he thanks himself. Turning the screen off but leaving the light on, he sheaths his phone in his coat to light up ahead.
He keeps his steps silent, focusing his senses on listening for anything other than himself. "Adding the Stealth skill. Based on your previous experience a level of 71 has been applied."
The cavern diverges into several pathways, of which Ethan keeps a mental map. Naked, small steps echo from behind him. Looking back, he sees the flicker of a torch. Ethan turns his own light off and hides in the relief.
Two of the red creatures pass him, sniffing the air. He moves behind them, stealing the torch-bearing creature''s dagger from its belt. With a swift thrust, Ethan sticks the dagger through its owner''s neck. It releases its grip on the torch it held, and Ethan grabs it. The second beast turns around. Ethan slams the torch in its face before immobilizing its arms and strangling its neck. It loses consciousness, and he drags it away from the torchlight.
"Adding the Melee Weapon (Dagger) skill. Based on your previous experience a level of 51 has been applied. Adding the Melee Weapon (Improvised) skill. Based on your previous experience a level of 42 has been applied. Adding the Unarmed Combat skill. Based on your previous experience a level of 66 has been applied."
Listening for any other encounters Ethan examines the creature. It shares the skeleton of humans except for a lizard''s head with small, scale-covered horns. Its skin is tough except for the throat and under its joints. Using its dagger, Ethan opens it from the throat to its stomach. ''Well, everything seems to be in the right place,'' he muses.
"You obtained the Kobold hunter title. One characteristic point has been granted," the voice announces. "You obtained the First hunter title. The Predator''s sight ability has been granted."
Ethan''s sight shivers, blurs, and its colors shift. For an instant, he sees beating red pulses through the walls and hears the breathing and steps of creatures several tunnels away. One source stands louder than any other, its heart slower, and its breathing deeper. Ethan''s senses shift back to their human standard; his head spins and his stomach turns.
"Adding the Ether Manipulation skill. Based on your previous experience a level of 0 has been applied," the voice echoes. Ethan''s heart fills with a crushing pain, forcing him to kneel.
Closing his eyes for a moment, he feels a slight wind he didn''t notice earlier. His sight, darkened by his eyelids, fills with strands of white and blue floating around him. Some of them lick his hand, sending tingles into his skin.
"Ether Manipulation leveled up."
The sensation climbs along his arm into his heart, relieving his pain. He opens to it, moving his hand to touch more strands. "Ether Manipulation leveled up," the voice announces.
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His suffering ends. He stands up, glancing to each side of the tunnel he''s in. ''What was that?'' he thinks. ''Am I able to do that at will?'' Ethan tries to focus on his sight and hearing, but nothing changes. Puffing at the idea, he thinks, ''Predator''s sight.'' The world around him shifts, and he can once again see the living creatures around him. It only lasts an instant but stops without the pains he previously experienced.
Drawing from the threads of Ether, he reiterates the experience several times. After a minute, he succeeds in triggering and canceling this new ability with a mere thought. "Ether Manipulation leveled up. Ether Manipulation leveled up. Ether Manipulation leveled up."
''I should move towards the big one. All of this seems too much like a video game for it not to be a boss," Ethan thinks, restraining his laughter from erupting in the cavern.
Ethan moves through the tunnels, scanning for enemies with predator''s sight to avoid any further encounters. He reaches the edge of a circular room made of carved stone. Decrepit wooden structures show the place was once used as a mining shaft. Crude elevators hang from unseeable heights. Wall torches and brasiers lit the room. A human-sized kobold sleeps peacefully in the center, perched atop a pile of rubble.
Carcasses of humans and wild animals lay around. Though only their bones remain, it is clear that they fell from a massive height. "Adding the Medicine skill. Based on your previous experience a level of 38 has been applied."
Two kobolds enter the room from another tunnel. They carry bags filled with herbs and berries. ''Is there a way for them to exit those tunnels?'', Ethan asks himself.
Their leader opens its eyes, lifting itself up to evaluate their findings as they present them. A long stone sword scrapes across the floor as it sways from its hip. Ethan aims his rifle at the biggest creature''s throat. It opens its mouth, releasing a series of hisses at its subordinate.
The room fills with deafening cracks as the target falls to the ground, swiftly followed by the two others. Ethan moves in. Blood paints the center of the room. Triggering predator''s sight, Ethan sees that other creatures are running towards the room. A deep breath sends shivers down his spine as he turns to the kobold''s leader.
By reflex, Ethan parries the stone sword with his rifle. Its strength is far greater than his, forcing him to bend backward. It snaps its maw at Ethan''s face, capitalizing on Ethan''s surprise to pry his rifle. The gun tumbles meters away, thrown backward by the kobold.
The blade fragments as it smashes on the floor, missing Ethan by a hair.
Ethan draws his pistol, shooting three rounds at the side of its knee. The bullets splatter across the creature''s scaled skin. Yet it shrieks in pain and tumbles as its kneecap exits its joint. It falls its maw wide open. Ethan seizes the occasion, discharging seven rounds into the creature''s mouth, leaving only one in the chamber.
A kobold enters the room, its eyes filled with fear as it sees the death of its leader. Without hesitation, the creature flees back into the tunnel.
"You obtained the Dungeon conqueror (F) title. Extra rewards have been granted," the voice announces. "You obtained the First dungeon conqueror (F) title. Extra rewards have been granted." A gray window opens once again.
Kobold lair (F)
Kobold teeth (x7)
Scaled leather (x5)
Copper coins (x15)
Return stone
--- Extra rewards ---
Return stone
Haversack (F)
--- Extra rewards ---
Ability book: Piercing shot (F)
Ability book: silent steps (F)
Ring of protection (E)
Dungeon stone: Abyssal keep (D)
As the window disappears, a rising light forms into a pile at Ethan''s feet. The light morphs into items: a bag, coins, teeth, books, and everything else promised. Hearing a swarm of rushing steps, Ethan gathers everything into the bag. He takes special care when manipulating the singular, ominous red stone. Every item he places seems to disappear into the bag, yet if he wants to take it back, thinking of it suffices to grab it.
Ethan keeps one of two gray stones in his hand while he picks up his rifle. As the first kobolds enter the room, he shatters it. A flash of light fills his sight, and he hears a "woof."
Chapter 3: Chaos
Russ steps on Ethan''s thigh, licking his hand as Ethan places it around his dog''s face. "I''m back; I''m back; I missed you too, buddy," Ethan says with a high-pitched voice. Ethan glances at a furnace. Thirty minutes passed, around the same as on the other side. Ethan stashes his HK416 in his haversack and hides his Glock under his coat.
Stepping out of the restaurant, Ethan passes a man paralyzed by an arrow stuck in his lower back. "I don''t know where my wife is," the man yells at Ethan. He remembers seeing the man sharing a table with a blonde and that woman falling with an arrow in her neck. "She is fine; do not move if you want to walk again."
"Adding the Deception skill. Based on your previous experience a level of 47 has been applied."
Fires dance from the windows of several apartments, but no siren whistles toward them. Cars move around slowly, slaloming between crashes and running pedestrians.
Ethan moves to his car. "In," he orders as he opens the passenger''s door for Russ to climb in. He ignites his car and taps the center screen to turn on the radio. He switches from channel to channel, hearing numeric noise, screams, and cries for help.
The light of the rising sun dims. Ethan looks up and sees a winged, scaled beast crashing into the cars and civilians before him. He reverses and moves on the sidewalk. He slaloms between the terraces and people, reaching an empty crosswalk, where he spins. Switching gears to move forward, he continues to create distance with the beast.
"Adding the Driving (Car) skill. Based on your previous experience a level of 47 has been applied."
"The initial assessment of your abilities is concluded. You may now choose your first class amongst those available to you." The window flashes in, followed by illustrated cards. His sight obstructed, Ethan swats them away, without success. "Cancel, exit, close," he says, making the windows disappear.
He enters narrow alleyways where his car barely passes and enters a parking. The engine of his BMW M4 echoes on the old underground walls. Power is out, and only his headlights light the place.
As he exits the descending ramp, his light rises on a grotesque humanoid of gray pustulated skin. It slowly chews on an arm, sitting next to a car with a ripped door.
Ethan turns to another part of the parking and parks as far away as possible from the creature. Shutting down his engine, he triggers predator''s sight to see only the creature and a weak pulse in the wrecked car beside it.
He exits and moves to the trunk, where he pulls his rifle from the haversack. From the hidden compartments, he takes a silencer, which he threads on. He removes the magazine and clears the chamber before inserting a magazine of subsonic 5,56. He pockets another one, grabs a fragmentation grenade, and attaches a torch before closing the trunk.
Using predator''s sight Ethan detects that the creature has returned to its meal, unbothered by his presence. Ethan closes his eyes, but to his surprise, no string of ether appears around him. ''Well, there goes my last use of predator''s sight,'' he thinks.
Ethan opens the passenger''s door. "Heel," he orders. He moves through the parking without any light, relying on his memory. The staircase leading inside the building lies behind the feasting beast.
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Peeking at the edge of a concrete wall, Ethan lights his torch, shining it at the creature''s face. It bends backward, masking the light with its hand and dropping its meal. Ethan presses the trigger. The impact sound feels shallow, as if a Kevlar vest caught it. The projectile cratered in the creature''s forearm, unable to pierce its skin.
The creature springs forward. Ethan yells, "Tackle!" and shoots at its face. Its hand catches the projectiles, breaking its bones. Russ bites its ankle at full speed dragging its leg backward. The creature falls, bashing its face on the ground. "Let go!" Ethan orders, aiming at the creature''s skull. He fires several rounds, enough for one to break through its skin and bones. Red blood flows from the beast''s nose onto the concrete ground.
Russ squeals while looking inside the torn car. Ethan joins him to see a young man barely hanging. His left arm is missing, mangled at the shoulder. His left leg is dislocated and twisted. Something pressed on his chest hard enough to collapse his rib cage. His breaths are short and painful, each coming with blood dripping from his mouth. He''s on borrowed time.
"I''m sorry; even if rescue was available, you wouldn''t make it to the hospital," Ethan says. He raises his rifle, ending the man''s suffering with a shot to the head. "You obtained the Kin slayer title," the voice announces.
Ethan moves to the entry ramp. Its unpowered engine stops it from closing. Ethan flicks a security switch and slowly moves a chain, closing the gate.
Exiting the garage, he grabs a key hiding above the door frame and closes it.
Hurried, Ethan continues to the building. Something breached the entry door from outside. The doors leading to apartments are all broken down. Blood trails exit from them and from the upper floors to the street.
Ethan advances, peaking through every opened door. He enters a busted door and checks every corner of the twenty-square-meters apartment. He presses a hidden button on his car keys. The end of a cloth rack slides open, revealing a concealed artist loft.
Closing the secret passage behind him Ethan, clears the massive room, the toilets, and a mezzanine.
Finding no monster, he lays his rifle on a table. Countless weapons litter the room, hanging on meshed steel walls. Body armor, military clothes, and various attire rest on mannequins.
He sits on a couch, instantly joined by Russ. He pulls out his phone, and taps several points on the touchscreen in rapid succession, bringing up a hidden application.
"Adding the Technology skill. Based on your previous experience a level of 23 has been applied."
A title screen ''N.E.S.T'' appears, soon followed by a target package. Ethan quickly swaps from the left, bringing a menu on which he taps ''Call''.
The phone rings for an eternity until an altered feminine voice says, "Welcome back, Reaper five."
Ethan explains in the most serious of voices, "There''s a situation in Paris. ¡ monsters, the like of those you find in games and books app¡ª"
"This is a worldwide situation. We dealt with it on our side," she answers.
Ethan asks, "I used guns in public; is there any issue with the failsafe?"
"Your presence has been properly erased from public security cameras. Most social media sites and apps are currently down; we''ll survey any upload of your image." She pauses and asks, "What class did you choose?"
"I shut down the windows when they appeared," he answers.
"Try saying status," she explains.
"Status," Ethan says, summoning the window once more.
Ethan Reed
Lv.0 (classless) Human
Class change available
Strength: 16 + Charisma: 12 +
Dexterity: 16 + Perception: 16 +
Constitution: 15 + Willpower: 18 +
Intelligence: 15 +
Available characteristic points: 6
Titles
Dungeon conqueror (F)
First dungeon conqueror (F)
First hunter
Slayer of the first incursion
Kin slayer
Kobold hunter
Ability
Predator''s sight (F)
"Class change," he guesses, summoning the cards. A myriad of illustrations, each carved with a name, appear before him. His mind flashes to when he was in the car, and he realizes that there are more cards than before.
Chapter 4: Classes
"What did you choose?" Ethan asks the woman.
"I didn''t have much of a choice; it made me a Merchant without asking me."
"I don''t have that one."
"Which ones do you have?"
"Artificer, Assassin, Diplomat, Gunslinger, Pugilist, Tamer, Templar, Warlock, and Warrior."
"Almost every guard here had Gunslinger or Warrior."
"Huh," Ethan says. He picks up an AWM from the wall and sets it on the table. With a few manipulations, he separates the bolt assembly from the gun and continues. After a few seconds, the sniper rifle lies dismantled on the table.
"Adding the Crafting (Gun) skill. Based on your previous experience a level of 67 has been applied."
Another card appears in the list, the Blacksmith.
Ethan reassembles the rifle and loads it with an empty magazine. Aiming through a tinted window, he sees a man holding back his apartment''s door. It shakes under violent impacts, sending shards of paint flying.
Ethan unlocks the safety and cycles the gun. Compensating for the distance, he aims at the man''s head and pulls the trigger. The gun clicks, and the announcement follows, "Adding the Ranged Weapon (Sniper rifle) skill. Based on your previous experience a level of 59 has been applied."
The Marksman card appears. "The more skills I have, the more choices are proposed to me," he says, holding his phone. "What happens when you choose a class?"
"You can tap on it to get a description," she answers.
Ethan taps the Assassin card. The illustration fades away, the card widens, and it fills with text.
Assassin
Masters of stealth, assassins blend in the shadows to deliver lethal strikes to unknowing targets.
Every two levels in the Assassin class will grant you a Dexterity point.
Lv.0: Anonymity
Lv.5: Silent steps
Lv.10: Shadow Blend
Lv.15: Critical sight
Lv.20: Veil
He opens the Gunslinger card.
Gunslinger
Gunslingers fire off rounds with blinding speed and precision. Capable of dodging incoming attacks while keeping a steady aim and a cool head.
Every two levels in the Gunslinger class will grant you a Dexterity point.
Lv.0: Quick draw
Lv.5: Armorer
Lv.10: Sixth sense
Lv.15: Quick hands
Lv.20: Deadeye
He taps on ''Anonymity'' at the end of the Assassin''s page, but it does nothing. "Are operations still running?" he asks.
"We are currently confirming the survival of our clients and targets. Until, and if we call the mission off, you are to proceed as usual," she answers.
"I need a cleaning crew in the garage, one humanoid monster, and one man. All the apartments were breached, and their occupants are missing."
There''s a long pause. "I have no visuals beside your apartment; it seems power has been cut out in the entire block. I will make sure someone fixes it. You can expect a cleaning crew tonight," she says.
"Keep me updated on government actions. I''d rather not be locked down again," Ethan mocks.
"And keep us updated on anything that happens with the ¡ system."
"I will. Stay safe, Tombstone," Ethan says before hanging up. He turns to Russ, who is lying down on the couch. "Let''s see what we can unlock," he jests.
He reiterates the sniper drill with a SCAR-H, M249, UMP45, and a Benelli M4. "Adding the Ranged Weapon (Battle rifle ¡ Machine gun ¡ Submachine gun ¡ Shotgun) skill. Based on your previous experience a level of 48 ¡ 36 ¡ 52 ¡ 53 has been applied."
No new card makes an appearance. Ethan grabs a bow and shoots across the loft in a cardboard target.
"Adding the Ranged Weapon(Bow) skill. Based on your previous experience a level of 37 has been applied." The Archer card appears at the end of the announcement.
He throws daggers at the same target. "Adding the Throwing Weapon(Dagger) skill. Based on your previous experience a level of 38 has been applied."
"Russ, hide," Ethan orders while turning his back to the dog. After a minute, he starts searching for Russ. Following his scent, he finds him under the couch. "Adding the Tracking skill. Based on your previous experience a level of 41 has been applied." The Ranger appears in the available classes.
Ethan moves to the edge of the lot, where an open kitchen is set up. From the fridge, he takes tomatoes and mozzarella, quickly cutting them and placing them in alternate slices. He adds a dash of olive oil, basil, and salt. "Adding the Alchemy(Cooking) skill. Based on your previous experience a level of 21 has been applied."
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"There is even a skill for that," Ethan chuckles. The Chef class appears. Out of curiosity, Ethan taps it.
Chef
Chefs craft delicious meals that heal both the body and the mind.
Every four levels in the Chef class will grant you a Dexterity point. Starting at level two, every four levels in the Chef class will grant you an Intelligence point.
Lv.0: Identification, Chef Book
Lv.5: Flavor enhancement
Lv.10: Magic (Restorative enchantments)
Lv.15: Preservation
Lv.20: Purification
''Magic? If there is a class like Wizard or Sorcerer, shouldn''t I have unlocked it with Ether Manipulation?'' Ethan remarks, ''Thinking of it, what skills could have unlocked the Templar and Warlock classes?''
Templar
Driven by unmatched willpower, Templars embody resilience and strength. Their conviction fuels their fight, turning belief into divine might and protection.
Every four levels in the Templar class will grant you a Willpower point. Starting at level two, every four levels in the Templar class will grant you a Strength point.
Lv.0: Divine oath
Lv.5: Divine weapon
Lv.10: Shielded by faith
Lv.15: Preservation
Lv.20: Purification
Warlock
Devoid of their long-lost humanity, Warlocks enter pacts with demons, exchanging their life force and that of others for great powers.
Every four levels in the Warlock class will grant you an Intelligence point. Starting at level two, every four levels in the Warlock class will grant you a Charisma point.
Lv.0: Demonic pact
Lv.5: Soul harvest
Lv.10: Demonic summoning
Lv.15: Frightful presence
Lv.20: Dark bargain
"The Warlock class sounds quite ominous. Do Templars need to bind themselves to a god, swearing an oath they cannot break or lose their powers?" he asks.
"Woof," Russ answers.
Ethan smiles at Russ. "Bonjour," he says successively in various languages.
"Adding the Language (German ¡ Italian ¡ Russian ¡ Arabic ¡ Finish ¡ Swedish ¡ Japanese) skill. Based on your previous experience a level of 52 ¡ 49 ¡ 37 ¡ 32 ¡ 35 ¡ 36 ¡ 3 has been applied."
Ethan waits for another card to appear. "Diplomat must already be the one related to languages," he guesses.
He switches the TV to the seventh channel, Arte. A German documentary on Pompeii is playing. He sits down to watch.
As they listen, Russ rests his head on Ethan''s leg. A new window appears.
Animal bond
Russ''s affection is high enough to form a bond. You''re currently bonded to 0 animals out of a maximum of 1.
Once you bond with an animal, you''ll be able to dictate their growth.
Would you like to form a bond with Russ? If either party starts to hate the other or dies, it will break the bond. Undoing a bond will cause temporary penalties.
YES NO
Ethan ponders for a moment and presses ''YES''. Russ''s status window appears alongside Ethan''s.
"By reaching a level of obedience of 40 with Russ, he gained two characteristic points."
"By reaching a level of obedience of 60 with Russ, he gained two characteristic points."
"By reaching a level of obedience of 80 with Russ, you gained the ability to communicate by thought."
Russ
Lv.0 (classless) Dog
Class change available
Bonded: Ethan Reed (Obedience 91)
Strength: 8 + Charisma: 6 +
Dexterity: 16 + Perception: 22 +
Constitution: 8 + Willpower: 14 +
Intelligence: 6 +
Available characteristic points: 4
Ability
Bond telepathy
''Sit,'' Ethan thinks while looking at Russ.
Russ sits. He looks around, confused, searching for the origin of Ethan''s voice.
"That will be useful," Ethan begins. He guesses, "Russ'' class change." His own class cards disappear, replaced by only two: Warbeast and Ambush predator. Ethan taps on them successively.
Warbeast
Warbeasts are frenzied animals who claw and tear at anything they are thrown at.
Every two levels in the Warbeast class grants a Strength point.
Lv.0: Fury
Lv.5: Growth
Lv.10: Improved natural weapons
Lv.15: Dreadful roar
Lv.20: Berserk
Ambush predator
Ambush predators hide in the shadows, waiting for their prey to lower their guard and deliver a single fatal blow.
Every four levels in the Ambush predator class grants a Perception point. Starting at level two, every four levels in the Ambush predator class grants a Dexterity point.
Lv.0: Silent steps
Lv.5: Shadow blend
Lv.10: Camouflage
Lv.15: Hunter''s mark
Lv.20: Territory
"I don''t know what fury and berserk do, but it feels like it would change you. Do humans have classes like that too?" Ethan wonders.
"Adding the Knowledge(History) skill. Based on your previous experience a level of 17 has been applied."
"I only needed to learn something to trigger the skill," Ethan thinks. He grabs his phone and reads the Wikipedia page for explosives.
"Adding the Alchemy(Explosive) skill. Based on your previous experience a level of 29 has been applied."
He reiterates the operation for poisons and hydrocarbons.
"Adding the Alchemy(Poison) ¡ Alchemy(Combustible) skill. Based on your previous experience a level of 34 ... 23 has been applied."
Two new cards appear: the Poisoner, and the Alchemist. He checks both for mentions of ''magic''.
Alchemist
Alchemists turn raw ingredients into powerful elixirs and poisons.
Every two levels in the Alchemist class will grant you an Intelligence point.
Lv.0: Identification, Alchemist Book
Lv.5: Detoxification
Lv.10: Magic (Potency enchantments)
Lv.15: Toxin resistance
Lv.20: Synthetization
''Both Alchemist and Chef gain Intelligence as they level up. My highest stat is Willpower. Did I unlock the Templar class because of it?'' Ethan notes. He ponders, ''If I press that plus, do I actually get smarter?'' He looks at Russ while tapping the ''+'' next to the dog''s Strength stat.
Russ scratches his right front leg as Ethan sees the muscle definition of his dog increasing. He taps again, and the operation repeats itself.
Ethan grabs a rope toy and orders, "Bite." Russ catches it and starts pulling backward; his strength has certainly increased. "Let go," he says, and Russ drops the rope.
''Best-case scenario: I unlock magic. Worst-case scenario: I get smarter and realize it was a dumb idea,'' Ethan thinks. He presses his Intelligence''s plus, looking for new cards with each tap. At the third tap, a new card appears: the Mage.
Mage
Mages wield ether to shape complex spells. They can learn spells from any school of magic and specialize in one.
Every two levels in the Mage class will grant you an Intelligence point.
Lv.0: Spellcasting, Random Spell Book
Lv.5: Magic school
Lv.10: Elemental expertise
Lv.15: Enchanting
Lv.20: Mage grimoire
Ethan''s head starts spinning. Memories start flowing from past teachings and knowledge he had long forgotten. He lays back on the couch, closing his eyes. He finds himself drawn to sleep despite the little time he spent awake.
"You come to the weaver of fates, the final whisper in the dark. Shall we weave your fate together?" An ethereal feminine voice announces.
Chapter 5: Patron
Ethan opens his eyes. His senses spin as he''s suddenly standing up. His feet rest on black marble flooring, lit by bright light-green wall torches. A figure passes him ¨C a humanoid shadow he had not noticed. Another appears in his peripheral vision. Soon, the room fills with them, wandering aimlessly.
Ethan raises his sight to a staircase crowned by a throne. A woman sits immobile on it, wearing a veil-like dress. A porcelain mask hides her features, even her eyes.
Ethan moves through the shadows. Every step is sluggish, reminding him of walking in a dream despite the realism of the situation.
"Am I dead?" Ethan asks, his throat tightening at the thought.
The porcelain face turns to Ethan. "Your life hasn''t reached its end. I summoned your soul, but it is still bound to your sleeping vessel." Her voice is soft, gentle, and carries an etheric echo.
"Who are they?" Ethan asks as a shadow crosses him.
"Souls holding regrets halting them from crossing to their next destination," she explains. "You attracted many eyes to yourself by being the first to cross the frontier between our worlds."
"The dungeon. ¡ Should I be honored or worried?" Ethan asks.
She rises from her seat, descending the stairs to join Ethan. Her proximity electrifies Ethan''s skin. "I act as the Goddess of death. I care not for morals, desires, pasts, actions, or your humanity. My sole purpose is to guide souls through their last voyage. ¡ Many others see your being as opposed to all they represent and despise you."
"Other gods? I have a feeling our religions do not correspond to your pantheon," Ethan asks.
"There is much your world will learn in the coming era," she answers.
''She doesn''t want to tell me too much,'' Ethan thinks. "What is the purpose of summoning me to your domain?"
"You will always be surrounded by death; you are drawn to it. And I wish to be the one to guide their soul, using you as my vessel to your world," she says.
Ethan swallows painfully. He struggles to come up with an answer. "There is no reward you could offer me for which I''d consider selling my soul to a ¡ goddess," he finally says.
"I understand," she says.
Incomprehension strikes Ethan, as he expected her to threaten or coerce him. "I thought you would be more inquisitive."
"Our paths will cross again; this was but an early introduction. I shall warn you; the agents of others may hunt you for it. And for that, I apologize and shall grant you gifts free of allegiance."
Ethan begins another sentence, but his senses fade once more. He opens his eyes to find himself on his couch with Russ by his side.
Two leather-covered books rest on his table, alongside a crystal vial of translucent blue liquid. The covers read ''Identification'' and ''Anonymity''.
Ethan grabs the first and opens it. The pages flip on their own. Its content of strange writings escapes its pages and flies into Ethan''s head. "You obtained the Identification ability," the voice announces. The book disintegrates into nothingness.
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He picks up the vial and thinks, ''Identification''. A window appears above it.
Potion of Ether (A)
Restores a vast quantity of Ether. Surpassing your body''s ability to store Ether will cause devastating side effects.
"Numbers would have been sweeter," Ethan mocks. He grabs an old-fashioned glass from the open kitchen and pours a drop of the potion. The smell is sweet, reminiscent of mead.
He drinks it while sitting and closes his eyes. Threads of ether form in his body, moving toward his heart. Seconds later, his heart hurts, as if it tried to expand for an instant. "A single drop is already too much. The good part is that I have enough potion to use predator''s sight thousands of times," he concludes.
"Ether Manipulation leveled up."
He picks up the second book and thinks, ''Identification.''
Ability book: Anonymity (F)
Whoever reads the content of this book will learn the Anonymity (F) ability.
Anonymity: You may choose to present an altered version of your status to those who would use Insight against you. It will not work if the rank of Insight surpasses your rank of Anonymity.
Ethan flips the pages. "You obtained the Anonymity ability," the voice announces. A blank status window appears with input fields waiting to be filled. Ethan doctors a level one warrior status with the name James Ward, the same as his fake passport.
He pulls out his loot from the dungeon and identifies it.
Ability book: Piercing shot (F)
Whoever reads the content of this book will learn the Piercing shot (F) ability.
Piercing shot: Enhances a projectile as the user shoots it. It hardens it and eases its path through the air.
Ability book: Silent steps (F)
Whoever reads the content of this book will learn the Silent steps (F) ability.
Silent steps: Reduces the sound generated by your steps when active.
Ring of protection (E)
Slightly enhances the toughness of the wearer''s skin, clothes, and armor.
He reads both books and places the ring on his left index. "You obtained the Piercing shot ability. You obtained the Silent steps ability," the voice follows.
"The only thing left is our classes," Ethan says, looking at Russ. "Russ''s class change." The two options appear once more. "I ¡ I don''t know what those classes will do to us. But if what she said is true. If someone like a Warrior can suddenly become twice as strong as a man. And with those monsters able to stop bullets, we need to get better."
"Woof," Russ says, tilting his head at Ethan''s words.
"I chose Ambush predator," Ethan says. The cards disappear, and Russ'' status changes.
Russ
Lv.0/20 (Ambush predator) Dog
Bonded: Ethan Reed (Obedience 91)
Strength: 10 + Charisma: 6 +
Dexterity: 16 + Perception: 22 +
Constitution: 8 + Willpower: 14 +
Intelligence: 6 +
Available characteristic points: 2
Abilities
Bond telepathy
Silent steps (F)
Russ stands up, shaking his head and body.
Ethan says, "And now for me, class change." The various cards appear once more, but to his surprise, a new one floats among them. Its silver edge shines brighter than any other''s.
Harbinger
Harbingers sacrifice early abilities to grow stronger and reach pinnacles others cannot dream of. Reaching level ten as a Harbinger will grant you a class change.
Every two levels in the Harbinger class will grant you a characteristic point. Every four levels in the Harbinger class will grant you a characteristic point.
"Is this one of her gifts? I should take it and find out as soon as possible how to level up," Ethan begins. "I choose Harbinger."
Ethan Reed
Lv.0 (Harbinger) Human
Strength: 16 + Charisma: 12 +
Dexterity: 16 + Perception: 16 +
Constitution: 15 + Willpower: 18 +
Intelligence: 18 +
Available characteristic points: 3
Titles
Dungeon conqueror (F)
First dungeon conqueror (F)
First hunter
Slayer of the first incursion
Kin slayer
Kobold hunter
Abilities
Anonymity (F)
Identification (F)
Piercing shot (F)
Predator''s sight (F)
Silent steps (F)
Chapter 6: Aftermath
"Alchemy (Cooking) leveled up," Ethan hears as he pieces a duck breast with honey sauce and saut¨¦ed potatoes.
''Come,'' he thinks. Russ rushes to Ethan''s side. ''Sit, down, pretty, down, good boy,'' Ethan orders successively, rewarding him with fried duck fat.
The TV suddenly plays the French anthem as a special diffusion from the Elysee begins.
The French president appears; he seems unharmed, yet Ethan notices that he hides a bruise with makeup.
"My fellow compatriots. Today, I stand before you as our nation enters the greatest challenge of our modern era. We are at war against forces that, until now, we believed were confined to the pages of fantasy and fiction," he begins. Images of dead monsters in the streets play in the corner. "We are instituting measures to ensure that our response to this crisis is coordinated, effective, and mindful of the greater good. Freedom must be balanced with responsibility, equality pursued with an understanding of the risks involved, and brotherhood must underscore our collective journey through this challenge."
Ethan smiles between two bites. "I feel it coming," he mocks.
"Your cooperation with local authorities, your understanding during these trying times, and your trust in the measures we will be taking are crucial to our shared success. Until further development, you are to remain indoors unless absolutely necessary. Our police and army are working tirelessly to bring back your security. I call upon you to support one another, to remain steadfast in your resolve, and to trust in the actions being taken on your behalf. The road ahead may be fraught with challenges, but together, we possess the strength, the courage, and the unity to overcome," the president continues.
"Let me guess. It will only last two weeks," Ethan jests.
The president concludes, "Let this be a time when the spirit of the French people shines brightest, when our collective efforts write a story of resilience, hope, and triumph. Vive la R¨¦publique, et vive la France."
The television switches to a broadcast of a questions and answers set. A message indicates the imminent arrival of the prime minister.
Ethan''s phone beeps, displaying an alert notification warning him of the lockdown. It vibrates without a notification, and Ethan opens the N.E.S.T application. An incoming call screen appears, and he picks up.
"Welcome back, Reaper five. You are probably aware of the lockdown. I am calling you about your target," Tombstone starts. "We have confirmed the survival of your client. Furthermore, the phone you bugged shows that they are moving tonight, lockdown or not. He will be escorted out of Paris to an unknown location."
"I have to deal with him tonight, or it will take another month to locate him. How are the police and army responding? Should I expect roadblocks or patrols?" Ethan asks.
"Despite the public announcements, it seems the police are still recovering from the initial attacks. The army is moving, but most roads are blocked. You should have a window for tonight." Tombstone explains.
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Ethan thinks over the details for a moment. "It will be messy," he says.
She answers, "the current situation will ease the cleaning process."
"Very well, it will be dealt with tonight," Ethan begins. "I chose the Harbinger class."
"No one else seems to have it; what does it do?" she asks.
Ethan explains, "It grants me no ability, but I get to select where I put my characteristic points and I get fifty percent more of them."
"A strange choice. I bet you would take Assassin," she says.
"I think it will pay in the long term," Ethan explains.
"Speaking of classes, we learned that those who unlocked none were forced into the Villager class," she begins. "Its description is quite ominous. Take your future in your own hands or become food for someone else."
There is a silence between them. "And Russ became an ambush predator," Ethan announces.
"Dogs can have classes too?" Surprise is clear in her tone, despite the voice modifier.
Ethan explains, "if they like you enough, you can bond with them and manage their status."
"Good to know. I will keep you updated on the military response. Good luck out there," Tombstone says before ending the call.
Ethan finishes the last bites of his meal and cleans his plate. Glancing at the haversack, he thinks, ''that could be useful.''
He cleans the table and starts placing items. A US Woodland urban trellis. A HK G28 with sniper''s optics, bipod, silencer, and subsonic ammo. His HK416 and black-tip armor-piercing rounds. Three flashbang grenades, three frag grenades, and one incendiary. A plate carrier reinforced with level three plus plates in which he stores his magazines. A thigh pistol holster, a belt with Glock magazines, an American military combat knife, and three throwing daggers.
He checks and cleans his weapons before placing everything in the haversack. "You are going to sit this one out," Ethan says to Russ, who exhales in response.
After taking Russ out for a quick bathroom break, Ethan picks up a new set of keys in the apartment. He rides a Yamaha YZF-R1 motorbike out of the garage before closing its door. "Adding the Driving (Motorbike) skill. Based on your previous experience a level of 49 has been applied."
He feels that something is watching him as he mounts his bike. Looking around with predator''s sight he sees a myriad of small creatures in the undergrounds of a nearby building. One of them watches him from an apartment window but stumbles back as soon as Ethan looks up.
Attaching his phone to the bike''s handle, he calls Tombstone as he drives away. "Warn the cleaning crew for my apartment; monsters nest in the eleventh."
"Understood," she says as he hangs up.
The motorcycle cuts a swift path through the streets of Paris, now a macabre tableau. The air is thick with the stench of burning and an acrid smoke that burns the eyes. The cobblestones, slick with blood and littered with debris, make the journey treacherous.
The grand avenues, once bustling with life, now serve as arenas where the corpses of both humans and monsters lie. Above, flying creatures project intimidating shadows as they veil the sun.
Buildings that have stood for centuries are now charred husks or lie in ruins. As Ethan speeds past a square, a wyvern lies dead in a fountain, its blood darkening the water to a deep red. Surrounding it are the mangled bodies of soldiers who fought it. The aftermath of its rampage stands as a grotesque display of dismembered limbs and unrecognizable remains.
The air is filled with screams of terror and pain, a haunting background to the destruction. Yet, amidst the terror, individuals risk their lives to pull others from the rubble. Those who couldn''t find shelter fight off the monsters who hunt them.
As Ethan dodges debris and avoids the occasional lunge from horrors beyond this world, he exits the city to cross the Seine. Soon he reaches the north-west suburbs, where he enters an industrial area.
He halts his motorbike at the sight of a band of youngsters, armed with makeshift weapons and the occasional gun.
Chapter 7: Target
Recognizing one of them, Ethan advances at a slow pace towards the improvised roadblock.
The biggest of them, who sports tattoos all over his arms and some on his face, approaches. Tapping a bat on his shoulder and with a Beretta in his pants, he threatens, "There is a toll to pay now."
"Don''t I already pay you enough?" Ethan retorts.
The young man takes one step back. "Fuck man, you can''t scare me like that."
"Mind if we have a chat?" Ethan inquisitively asks.
His interlocutor nods his head to an alleyway and turns to the others, yelling, "Watch the bike, and don''t touch it." Some of them emit a tut, but none deny his order.
They walk aside, and Ethan removes his helmet. "Quite the display; are you planning on taking over the place?"
"Yeah, our police got overrun by monsters, and with those video game classes, we grow stronger as we fuck them up," the young man says playfully. "But I wouldn''t try anything against you; you get me?"
"The army is on the move, and they won''t be lenient when they encounter you. You probably have until tomorrow morning," Ethan warns.
"Seriously? Fuck, thanks for the warning, man."
"Anything for me?" Ethan asks.
"I kept some guys on it. Your man has a lot of visitors; they swarmed to the warehouse when it all started," he begins. "And they got real weapons, military guns and all."
"How many?"
"Twenty something. And there is a boat that landed half an hour ago," he precises. "What''s with the medieval bag?"
"I couldn''t find another one," Ethan lies. He pulls half a grand from his pocket and hands it to the youngster. "I hope it will still have value in a few days," Ethan adds.
"Pleasure doing business with you," the young man quips, moving out of the alleyway.
Ethan parks a few buildings away from a warehouse next to the Seine. He vaults a fence and enters another building, checking it for any sign of activity. Satisfied, he quickly changes, equipping himself with his gear. Getting to the higher floors of the building, he places a table far away from the windows and uses it to lay down with his DMR.
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Ethan witnesses many arrivals but no departures as the hours go by. His target is a short, bald man with a scar on his face, an unmissable sight he cannot catch at the windows of the warehouse.
Hired guns load the boat with crates from the warehouse.
In Ethan''s original plan, he would have killed him during a meeting with one of his clients. It would have been in an art gallery during an exposition, where he could have disguised himself as a waiter to poison him. ''It''s starting to get dark. He could escape by boat, by road, or by using the sewers. My only surefire option is to go in and kill my way to him,'' Ethan thinks repeatedly.
As the evening nears its end, Ethan steps down from the table. He exits his hiding spot and moves from building to building. Edging the warehouse, he arrives from an alley where the cameras have a blind spot.
Finishing his patrol, a guard opens a door with his key card and receives a silenced bullet to the head. His body jams the door, forcing it to remain open. Ethan rushes to the door and drags the man inside, closing the door.
Exactly as in the most recent plans of the building, the security room lies a few meters away. A camera watches the door but is unable to see the rest of the corridor. Ethan approaches the room, ''predator''s sight, piercing shot'' he thinks. The supervisor silhouette appears, and he shoots his head through the brick wall. The man''s form falls on his desk. ''Should have reinforced those walls,'' Ethan mocks in his mind.
Emptied of Ether, Ethan sips a drop of his potion and places it back in the haversack.
Ethan passes a window through which he sees a laboratory where chemists are working. Armed guards are watching them, the chemists body language betraying their fear. The target''s real name is unknown, but his pseudonym is the Plague Merchant. He sold countless chemical weapons to terrorists. And he flooded markets with many synthetic drugs, such as methamphetamine and fentanyl.
Descending a set of stairs, he guns down two mercenaries who were guarding the underground floor, playing cards on a table.
"You leveled up," the voice announces.
Ethan peeks inside a singular room filled with electrical transformers, switchboards, and UPSs. He kicks a service trap and closes the fire sprinkler supply line. Leaving for the stairs, he throws his incendiary grenade at the electrical transformers.
Only a few seconds pass before the building''s power shuts down. Guards start screaming orders. Sundering gun fire appears in the space sheltering the laboratory before suddenly quieting down.
Using predator''s sight, Ethan sees the movements of the guards, who spread from what he knows to be another underground space. The ones coming towards him die like flies as he shoots them through walls or instants after they pass a corner.
Smoke starts building up as he arrives at the stairs of the underground room. Four guards are waiting, aiming their rifles toward the staircase. A host of weak pulses hide in a corner.
He unpins both a flash and a fragmentation grenade, tossing them inside. None of the four guards survived the explosion.
"You leveled up."
Going in, he sees that the other inhabitants are behind bars. Another laboratory has been set up here. Arachnoid monsters lay on its tables, dissected.
As Ethan approaches to scan the faces, hoping his target will be among them, he finds civilians in a wandering state. Their eyes are bloodshot red, and they formed a purplish foam at the mount. Seeing Ethan, they dash at their bars, trying to grab him.
A computer screen flashes in the room. "I am afraid you missed your opportunity to kill me. Seeing as your face is hidden on my cameras, I guess you''re one of the Reapers," a coarse voice announces. The subtle sound of a car engine tells Ethan that the man isn''t lying.
Ethan starts moving out without caring for the man''s monologue. "Wait, don''t you want to see my latest creation?" he says as a scraping metallic sound resonates. Like rabid dogs, the prisoners exit their cell to rush Ethan, almost trampling each other.
Chapter 8: The hunt
The mass of poisoned civilians approaches as a swarm of famished predators. Ethan switches his DMR to fully automatic and empties his magazine at the first line. They drag each other in their fall. With a swift hand movement, Ethan throws a fragmentation grenade at them. He runs back up the stairs, fleeing the incoming shrapnel.
"You leveled up," the voice echoes in unison with the explosion.
Killing a handful of the remaining guards, Ethan leaves the building to return to his ride. He switches to his biker attire in a hurry and mounts his motorcycle. He calls Tombstone as he ignites his bike''s engine.
"Welcome back, Reaper five," she says.
"Target is on the run; he left in a car at an unknown time. Anything that could correspond on the traffic cameras?" Ethan requests.
A long pause ensues as Ethan leaves the industrial area.
"A convoy of three cars exited a building near your location an hour ago; I''ll guide you."
Ethan cuts through the rubbles and wreckage as Tombstone orders his turns. "Driving (Motorbike) leveled up."
Soon, he stops his ride along an abandoned hospital. He notices cracks and moss plaguing its walls, along with creeping vines that enter its shattered windows. A drug addict shivers near the entrance, hidden behind an industrial bin.
"They just parked in the garage; video surveillance is unavailable," Tombstone warns.
"Get me a potential ETA on any nearing helicopter," Ethan asks as he equips his plate carrier and pulls out his assault rifle.
Her mic cuts for a moment. "The nearest helicopter could be here in fifteen minutes," she finally informs.
"I''m going in, cutting comms," Ethan says.
"Good luck," Tombstone says as she hangs up.
Ethan enters through a broken window on the first floor. Predator''s sight tells him that a host of humans are moving through the second floor. ''Silent steps,'' he thinks as he hastens his space.
The drain of Ether caused by silent steps is intense, exponential to Ethan movement speed. He drinks drop after drop of his potion as he runs through the building. "Ether manipulation leveled up. Ether manipulation leveled up."
Their silhouettes suddenly spin, and their heart rates skyrocket. Ethan stops to listen and observe through predator''s sight.
"Where is it!?" one of them screams. He aims his rifle to the side, breaking their airtight formation.
"Keep moving!" a woman orders. Her English carries a thick Russian accent. She stands taller than the rest of the group, her heart bigger and slower.
The group of ten people resumes their step. A discrete scraping sound echoes from above them. The closing member of their formation is lifted off the ground, his lungs emptying in an agonizing exhale.
Something drags the victim''s dying figure into the ceiling. They spin and open fire in its direction. The gunshots pierce Ethan''s ears as ice spikes thrust into his skull. He cancels predator''s sight. ''That''s on me; I watched Man of Steel; I should have known,'' he mocks in his mind.
As the gunfire dies down, Ethan restores his Ether and resumes predator''s sight. "Pavlov, close the formation!" the Russian woman orders. The enemy squad regroups, restructuring itself around one of them. They move quickly, their hearts beating frenetically.
''What was that?'' Ethan ponders. ''It doesn''t have a heartbeat; I just heard it moving.'' Ethan''s breathing hastens uncontrollably. He resumes his pursuit, focusing not on the group he hunts but on his own surroundings.
A scraping sound comes from above. Ethan dashes into a wall and aims at the ceiling. A dark purple, shell-covered tail ending in a harpoon-like stinger bursts through. Ethan shoots a dozen rounds at it and at the ceiling. A piercing shriek sends shivers through Ethan''s skin. Tar-like blood drools from the bullet holes.
The tail springs back in as Ethan stands up and runs away. He can hear claws rushing behind and towards him. He passes a door where the false ceiling ends, finding himself before a series of elevator doors with no other exit. The creature drops to the floor behind the door frame.
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Thick scales cover its hunched humanoid body. Blood drips from the wounds Ethan inflicted ¨C wounds that would have killed any human. It opens its maw, revealing layers of serrated teeth. It jumps on Ethan to bite him. His rifle blocks its teeth as he dodges its claws. Its tail springs at Ethan''s leg. He dodges, and the tail burrows between an elevator''s doors, bending them.
Ethan draws his Glock, thinking, ''Piercing shot.'' The bullet penetrates the base of the creature''s maw but doesn''t stop it. ''Piercing shot,'' Ethan commands again. ''Piercing shot.'' The third round sends the monster to the ground. Its teeth rip off Ethan''s rifle from his hand, crushing it with enough force to dig into the weapon''s frame.
"You leveled up."
Ethan''s heart suddenly tightens and bursts, altering between V-tach and almost no pulse. Black veins appear along his arms and neck, his skin becomes white, and his strength leaves him.
His legs give up, and he falls alongside the monster''s corpse. He closes his eyes and sees threads of Ether forming from his own flesh, attracted by a void in his heart. His mind clouds, as if under the influence of a sedative gas.
With excruciating pain, he takes out the potion of Ether and sips a drop. His heart calms down, but the veins and his anemia remain.
"Adding the Life force manipulation skill. Based on your previous experience a level of 0 has been applied."
Ethan stands up. His body is sluggish and weaker than it should be. ''Is this what happens when you consume all of your Ether?'' he wonders. ''How long was I paralyzed for? Seconds? Minutes?''
He shakes his head. Triggering predator''s sight, he sees his targets moving upstairs. He tries to force open the elevator doors, but their mechanism resists him. "Status," he says.
Ethan Reed
Lv.4 (Harbinger) Human
Strength: 16 + Charisma: 12 +
Dexterity: 16 + Perception: 16 +
Constitution: 15 + Willpower: 18 +
Intelligence: 18 +
Available characteristic points: 6
Titles
Dungeon conqueror (F)
First dungeon conqueror (F)
First hunter
Slayer of the first incursion
Kin slayer
Kobold hunter
Abilities
Anonymity (F)
Identification (F)
Piercing shot (F)
Predator''s sight (F)
Silent steps (F)
Alteration
Life force exhaustion (2/10)
Ethan presses the plus along his strength four times. His muscles tingle as they grow. Gripping the elevator''s doors, he forces them open. The cabin rests at the bottom of the shaft. Jumping on one of the metallic cables, Ethan ascends to the highest accessible floor.
He leaps towards the doors, landing on the edge of the elevator shafts, and forces them open. Exiting into a corridor, he glances at a floor plan displayed on a wall. He and his targets are equidistant from the roof''s access.
Using silent steps, Ethan is the first to reach the room giving access to the roof. He hides behind a door, aiming his G28 through its shattered window. His crosshair stays steadily on the entrance they are approaching.
''Just one more shot, and I can go home for the night,'' Ethan thinks. ''There are only seven of them; did the monsters kill another two?''
They enter, shining their lights everywhere. "Clear!" one of them yells. "Clear!" another follows as he checks his angle.
Ethan''s crosshair falls on his target''s scar. He presses the trigger. A spark of golden light pierces through, brighter than their torches. The Plague Merchant''s face reappears, unscathed. ''Piercing shot,'' Ethan thinks, shooting a second round. The phenomenon reiterates itself and they aim their rifles at his door.
Lead rains toward Ethan. He falls back, sending a flash grenade into the room. The detonation doesn''t render their guns silent, as they fire aimlessly. Ethan hears the roof doors open, and they rush outside.
Ethan places several walls between him and them. He chuckles lightly. ''Of course, he couldn''t be that simple,'' he thinks. The sound of a helicopter''s blades reverberates through the walls, growing louder with each passing second.
Ethan moves to a peripheral room, one with a wall adjacent to the hospital''s roof. ''Predator''s sight, piercing shot,'' he thinks as he shoots one of his target''s guards. The man, who was running to cover, falls to the ground.
Their Russian leader shouts, "Take cover! Saitov! Lay down suppressive fire!" An LMG roars to life, unleashing a hail of bullets towards Ethan, riddling the wall with holes.
Ethan has already moved elsewhere. He takes a sip and reiterates the operation repeatedly. Soon, only the Plague Merchant, and the Russian woman remain, unfazed by the bullets that hit them. Ethan stops shooting. "When the helicopter arrives, I''ll protect the pilot instead of you. You rush inside and get cover. Understood?" the woman orders after seconds of silence.
Ethan smiles as he aims for the Plague Merchant''s head. The approaching helicopter''s sound melts his brain as he maintains predator''s sight to see his target through a wall.
The Plague Merchant starts running, and Ethan presses the trigger, ''Piercing shot.'' The G28 barrel splits open as the bullet leaves it. The projectile tears off the Plague Merchant''s jaw, sending him to the ground.
"Fuck!" Ethan yells. He unholsters his Glock, rushing towards the roof. He shoves the doors with his shoulder and finds his target lying on the ground. Ethan shoots at the man''s head, but the earlier spark deflects the projectile into the helicopter''s body.
The woman stands up from behind cover. Ethan sidesteps, taking cover as he shoots thrice. The bullets splatter on her skin and body armor before falling to the ground.
"I''m out of ammo, and not even your rifle was able to wound me," she says as she drops an AK12 and a Glock aside.
The pilot hides in his seat, without a weapon in his hands. Ethan holsters his pistol and unsheathes his knife. "I haven''t tried everything yet," he says in Russian.
They organically move to an open part of the roof. Ethan keeps an eye on the still target and on the pilot. Both assume a stance as she unsheathes her own knife, ready to jump at each other.
Chapter 9: High level
"I''ve never met a Reaper before. Thinking of it, I guess I would have died had we met earlier than today," she jests. "The name is Tatiana."
Ethan slashes at her throat; she parries with her forearm, and his blade slides across her skin. She answers with an attack of her own, but Ethan deflects her entire arm with his. Her strength is on par with his, but her movements are slower.
Ethan spins, grabbing her attacking arm to throw her above his shoulder. She crashes into the ground as Ethan locks her right arm on her back.
Her left fist coats in translucent flames. She scrapes Ethan''s leg, but it suffices to send him spinning in the air. She stands and punches his plate carrier. Ethan is thrown through a wall, twenty meters away from her.
She walks towards him, etheric flames growing along her arms. "By the looks of it, I feel like you''re an Assassin, level three or four at best. The problem for you is that I have already maxed out. I''m level twenty, worlds apart from the likes of you," she boasts.
Ethan stands up; the shock didn''t break anything but, his entire back screams in pain. "Status," he says before raising his dexterity to eighteen.
Ethan analyzes, ''none of the classes I saw mentioned any ability to raise your ether reserves, not even Mage. I''ve been at it all day, and I can only hold fifty percent more than this morning. She shouldn''t be able to maintain that ability for long.''
"Looking for anything to save yourself?" she asks before lunging at Ethan.
He focuses solely on dodging for several exchanges. Each time she misses him by too little, he can feel the very air smashing on his body. Her stance is fast but simple, as if she trained in a public gym and not during military service. A sudden distance between them enables Ethan to shoot two rounds at her knee, but it fails to wound her. The next exchange feels slower for Ethan; she seems to repeat a singular set of patterns.
"Unarmed Combat leveled up."
Her attacks suddenly stop as black veins form on her neck. Ethan unpins his last fragmentation grenade and slips it under her plate carrier. With a kick, he sends her to the ground before rolling to the side.
The explosion burst her plate carrier open. Her skin is charred but unpierced. As she struggles with life energy exhaustion, Ethan slides his Glock in her mouth and empties his magazine.
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Keeping watch of the pilot, he reloads and walks to the Plague Merchant. "No final words for you, I am afraid," Ethan says, aiming at the head missing its lower jaw. Ethan presses the trigger, and the impact flashes bright yellow. Ethan turns around too late. He blocks a punch amplified by ether with his forearms. The shock sends him flying through the open doors of the helicopter.
Ethan falls off the roof, flying above the street five floors below. Glass shatters on his back as he enters a consultation room in another wing, stopped by a wall.
His sight fills with blood flowing from his skull. Carrying the Plague Merchant on her shoulder, Tatiana steps into the helicopter. Still holding his pistol, Ethan shoots at his head but misses. She pulls a PKM from inside the cabin and shoots up Ethan''s room. He exits in time, but a bullet hits his back plate, cracking his left scapula.
Seconds later the sound of rotating blades disappears in the distance. Ethan injects himself with morphine as he can feel his left forearm and back were gravely injured.
Checking his surroundings with predator''s sight, Ethan calls Tombstone.
"Welcome back, Reaper five."
"The target fled the scene on a UH-60A Blackhawk. He''s guarded by a woman who is immune to bullets and point-blank grenades. She''s also able to shield another individual from bullets with her abilities," Ethan explains.
"Can you escape the scene?" Tombstone asks.
He replies, "I am wounded. I only have thirty-three rounds for my Glock, and the hospital is inhabited by monsters. I will see what I can do."
"We have no other asset near your location. ¡ Good luck," Tombstone says as she hangs up.
Ethan stands up and starts moving to a staircase. Rushing steps come towards him. A scared mercenary enters the staircase and receives a round to the head. The man had an AK12 and one full magazine for it. ''That''s more reassuring than a Glock,'' Ethan thinks.
Though he cannot see their hearts or shapes, Ethan hears three creatures moving towards him through predator''s sight. He takes the two fragmentation grenades of his victim and unpins them. He places the dead man''s body over them, its weight holding their levers.
Glancing at a wall map, he sees that the first floor would place him in an open area with six entrances and an atrium overlook. He decides to move to the basement.
Now underground, he enters a corridor that ends with a staircase leading outside. Except for the last one, the doors in this corridor should only lead to storage and maintenance rooms. Two explosions resonate from above, followed by shrieks.
No light shines in this place, and Ethan relies only on predator''s sight to guide himself. Something moves in front of him, and a purple crystal appears a few meters away, levitating.
The source of the movement growls, and Ethan opens fire. The fireballs illuminate the creature, which has a crystal embedded in its flesh. It almost reaches Ethan. ''Piercing shot,'' he thinks as the flashes of light help him aim. The final shot pierces the monster''s skull. In its fall, the beast hits a pillar, ending on its back.
The crystal lies waiting to be taken, and Ethan grabs it, his muzzle pressed against the creature''s mangled head. He hastily places it in the haversack and throws his last flash grenade back to where he came from. A chorus of agonizing screeches follows its explosion.
Ethan breaks down the final door with his right shoulder and exits the building. Reaching his ride, he drives off into the night.
Chapter 10: Recovery
Ethan pushes the door of a small Chinese restaurant, squeezed at the feet of an apartment building. A bald man who sits near the entrance raises a sawed-off shotgun at him.
Removing his helmet, Ethan asks, "Is Mister Miy? available?"
The man nods his head towards the end of the restaurant. The place shelters three families. A cook is hard at work in the kitchen, preparing chow mein.
"One more?" the cook asks, holding an empty bowl.
"Yes, please," Ethan answers.
"Adding the Language (Chinese) skill. Based on your previous experience a level of 8 has been applied."
Ethan opens a door labeled ''Storage''. An old man gazes up from his desk as he''s bottling gray powder.
"Welcome, Mister Ward," the old man says as he rises from his stool. "Please, take a seat."
Ethan sets himself on an inclined chair as Mr. Miy? pulls out a stethoscope from a drawer. Ethan removes his shirt, revealing a purple-painted back.
"You gained a lot of muscle. Have you taken something?" the doctor asks.
"No steroid if that''s what you meant; morphine if it wasn''t," Ethan explains.
"Good, steroids could get you killed even earlier than your profession," Mr. Miy? jokes. He manipulates Ethan''s left arm and leg while asking for the causes of his injuries. "The good thing is that you have no fracture. And your anemia seems to be resorbing. But you have cracks all around your bones. You''re looking at two to three weeks of rest."
Ethan moves his fingers, feeling pain in his forearm as the morphine fades. "I probably don''t have that time given our current, ¡ predicament."
"I may have something else for you," he says, moving to his desk. Ethan follows as the doctor opens a leather-covered book decorated with engravings of flowers and herbs.
Ethan jests, "None of the weird dead animal crotch powder your other clients come for, I hope."
"Nothing like that, Mister Ward. This is a very new arrival," the doctor says as he opens his book. The first two pages are filled with illustrations of plants and monsters, surrounded by Chinese writings. The rest of the book seems empty.
"A gift from the system?"
"I''m an Apothecary, and this book is supposed to fill with two recipes for every level I gain," the doctor explains.
''Identification,'' Ethan thinks, a finger on the book.
Apothecary grimoire
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An Apothecary''s recipes. Two recipes will be added to this grimoire for each level of its original owner. Dropping a drop of potion on it will add its recipe to the pages.
"This says that this is a potion that can greatly accelerate the body''s regeneration. And the only ingredient I need is the moss on its body," Mr. Miy? explains as he places his finger on the illustration of a monster. "A Gloom Sporling." The creature stands on slender, root-like limbs. Its body, if one could call it that, is a confluence of fungal and dark, moist earth, topped by green mush.
"Mind if I take a picture?" Ethan asks.
"Not at all. I can give you some opioids if you plan to be active instead of resting. But be careful with them; don''t fall into an addiction," the doctor warns.
"I''ll try to get you some soon. Thanks for the pills," Ethan says as he exits the room.
The cook finishes to dress his preparations. He places his hands above them, and glittering dust forms in the air. He looks pleased with himself for a moment. He falls backward, catching himself on a worktop before gasping for air.
Ethan holds a glass of water before him, and the cook swallows it in a hurry. The drop of potion Ethan slipped in the glass quickly restores the man, who holds his heart in surprise.
"Don''t overuse your abilities. It''s dangerous," Ethan says as he grabs a bowl of chow mein.
Sitting in the most isolated corner, Ethan sends the pictures to Tombstone along with the text, "Any sighting of this creature?"
He waits for someone else to start eating, and seeing that nothing happens to them, he digs in. The marinated beef offers a robust and meaty flavor that is immediately satiating. The vegetables are fresh and crunchy, lightening the dense and fatty fried noodles.
The pains in his body lighten as he finishes his meal. ''I have not taken one yet, have I?'' Ethan wonders, looking at the still-sealed plastic bottle of pills. "Status."
Ethan Reed
Lv.4 (Harbinger) Human
Strength: 20 Charisma: 12
Dexterity: 18 Perception: 16
Constitution: 16(15) Willpower: 18
Intelligence: 18
Titles
Dungeon conqueror (F)
First dungeon conqueror (F)
First hunter
Slayer of the first incursion
Kin slayer
Kobold hunter
Abilities
Anonymity (F)
Identification (F)
Piercing shot (F)
Predator''s sight (F)
Silent steps (F)
Alterations
Constitution boost +1
Life force exhaustion (1/10)
''I should grow my constitution next; maybe it would help me heal faster.''
Ethan''s phone vibrates. "Someone posted this picture on X. It appears to be the catacombs," Tombstone writes. Along the message is an image of a Gloom Sporling along walls of bones and skulls.
"Thanks," Ethan answers as he finishes his meal.
The city calmed down, but Ethan can sense nests of creatures here and there. Despite the announcements, many are risking their lives to loot luxury shops.
The small green building leading to Paris'' catacombs has been hastily blocked from outside with a bench. Ethan moves it away and equips his gear as he enters.
Blood trails paint the floor where victims were dragged, from behind the locked door to further inside. Hanged lamps lit the path, still active despite the situation.
Ethan moves in silence, his AK12 in hand. Through predator''s sight, he can hear steps and the clinking of metal. ''Zombies?'' he thinks to himself.
Curious, he edges a corridor and sees a walking skeleton, dragging a mace behind him. ''Silent steps,'' Ethan thinks, placing himself right behind the monster. Ethan grabs the skeleton''s arm and forces it to the ground. With a twist, he breaks its arm and throws it backward.
Piece by piece Ethan crushes the skeleton, which pointlessly struggles. Even with only its head left, it keeps biting the air. Ethan crushes its skull under his boot.
"You obtained the Skeleton hunter title. One characteristic point has been granted," the voice announces.
''Their only weakness is their skull. It was heavier than a skeleton should be, twenty to twenty-five kilos,'' Ethan thinks as he walks back to grab the skeleton''s mace. ''This should be the perfect tool to crack skulls.''
"Come down to meet me instead of destroying my helpers," a voice says. Ethan jumps back and turns to the source. A skull stuck in the wall is speaking to him.
Chapter 11: Stranger from another world
"Who am I speaking to?" Ethan asks, listening for any approaching enemies.
The skull chuckles. "I mean you no harm. I am but a lost soul who''d wish to exchange with you who visited my world." Its voice is that of a man whose vocal cords have been severely damaged.
"Can''t we discuss through that skull?" Ethan requests. ''Meeting him might get me some precious intelligence. But it feels like a trap,'' he thinks.
A window appears in front of Ethan.
Pact of non-aggression
??? offers you a pact of non-aggression. Should you accept it, you and ??? will be under its influence for the next 24 hours.
Harming the opposite party through any means will cause the rupture of the pact. All members of the party responsible for the rupture will suffer the Curse of ruin.
Accept Deny
"What stops your helpers from attacking me?" Ethan asks.
"A party refers to any ally, bond, summon, or slave," the skull answers.
Ethan presses ''Accept''. "Where to now?"
Another skull, further away, answers, "Follow their voices." The new skull speaks with a feminine voice.
Guided by the skulls, Ethan moves deeper inside the catacombs. His path follows the blood trails he met when entering this place.
"I see you showed another kind of hospitality to those who came before me," Ethan says sarcastically.
"Those panicked sheep showed no other utility than being materials for my craft," a male skull answers.
"I needed them to protect myself from others like you," another chimes in.
Ethan periodically scans the area through predator''s sight but sees no living being. He steps into a chamber, along which skeletons stand sentinel.
Three massive armors surround a pale woman dressed in a pristine medieval robe. Her eyes are ink black, dotted with small white irises. One of the armors shifts slightly, despite its open joins revealing its emptiness.
A bloody skull, placed on a stone coffin before her, opens its maw. "Welcome to my miserable, and I hope temporary, domain, James Ward," it says.
"Am I unworthy of your real voice?" Ethan jests.
The woman smiles and utters a few words. Ethan recognizes none of them, not even the syllables she used. "It is easier to communicate through the souls of those who preceded you," the skull begins. "Would you care to approach?"
Ethan moves towards her, stopping a few meters away. His senses are focused on the armors guarding her. He asks, "I was transported to an unknown location by a crystal. Is that what you meant by me visiting your world?"
"It is. And I was dragged to yours, stranded until I find a way back," the skull explains.
Ethan guesses, "Find a way back. ¡ Do you expect me to bring you a dungeon stone?"
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"You''re sharp. I propose to strike a deal, an arrangement for which you would be generously compensated," the skull says.
Ethan silently waits for her offer.
She places her hand above the coffin. A ring on her index finger emits an aura powerful enough for Ethan to feel without closing his eyes.
"Ether manipulation leveled up."
Two books appear on the surface below her hand. The titles are runic in nature and undecipherable for Ethan. He approaches his hand, silently waiting for her permission. She nods, and he places his finger on one of them, thinking, ''Identification.''
Spell book: Debilitating Hex
Whoever reads the content of this book will learn the spell Debilitating Hex. This spell belongs to the dark magic school of magic.
Debilitating Hex: Reduces the strength of the target.
Ability book: Spellcasting (F)
Whoever reads the content of this book will learn the Spellcasting (F) ability.
Spellcasting: Form the mental structure necessary to cast a spell. The cost, range, target number, duration, and effectiveness of your spell depend on your rank of spellcasting and characteristics in comparison to the spell''s strength.
"A more than fair deal," Ethan begins. "But I came here to find a monster, a Gloom Sporling from which one could make a healing potion." Ethan''s throat tightens as he regrets saying it with such entitlement.
"Greedy, are we?" The skull chuckles. She waves her hand once again, and a pile of moss appears along the books.
Ethan pulls out the crystal he just obtained from his haversack. ''It''s the same rank as the Abyssal keep, but I feel like a unique achievement''s extra reward should be special,'' he thinks.
Dungeon Stone: Huskstalker lair (D)
A crystal that, when shattered teleports, you and your nearby party to a predetermined dungeon.
"I took this from the corpse of a monster I killed. A stealthy predator covered in scales, whose tail is armed with a harpoon-like stinger," Ethan explains, holding the stone before her.
She places her finger around it, the connection sending shivers and tendrils of Ether along Ethan''s forearm.
"Ether manipulation leveled up."
''Just being near her refills my reserves of Ether; what kind of creature is she?'' Ethan asks himself. ''Are the inhabitants of her world all like her? Or is she a monster who can reason and speak?''
"This will do. I am lucky you came to this place," the skull begins. "I hope we will meet again someday; I see great things for you." Her sentence concludes with a flash of light, taking her and her living armors away. The skeletons lining the edges of the room fall to pieces.
"I had so many other questions," Ethan instantly regrets aloud. He grabs his prizes and places everything in the haversack. As he steps away towards the room''s exit, he notices a shadow appearing in his peripheral vision. In seconds, the room fills with tens of them, as if he was back to his meeting with the goddess of death.
They lament indescribable complaints in echoing voices. Ethan walks back the trails of blood to the entrance. Souls appear on his path, returning to nothingness as he distances them.
Curious, Ethan opens his status. "Dark Ether corruption, minor," he reads. ''I hope it will go away soon,'' he thinks.
On his path, he comes across the remains of a skeleton whose bones hold a pristine long sword. Its blade shimmers with a hint of blue hue. Silver runes decorate the guard, like those on his newly acquired books.
Starfell knight longsword
A sword gifted to anyone who becomes a knight of the Starfell kingdom. Ether imbues its steel blade, improving its durability and edge.
This weapon has been enchanted with [Sharpness (E)].
''Did she come with that sword?'' Ethan wonders.
Armored steps echo from the entrance''s vague direction. A heartbeat appears in Ethan''s predator''s sight. A man approaches, wearing metallic armor and chain mail. A sword dangles at his hip, tapping against his leg. Ethan changes paths to avoid the man, but soon realizes that he''s been tracked.
Ethan waits for the man to enter a long corridor and appears at the opposite end of it. He''s young, twenty-one, or so.
"Finally, I found you, vile necromancer!" the man yells. A wave of Ether traverses Ethan, and a window appears before the man. "You''re human? And a warrior? ¡ You must be hiding your real status. The Ether coming from you does not lie," he says.
"The woman you seek has already left this place," Ethan explains.
The man unsheathes his long sword. "I shall not suffer your lies. In the name of the god of light, I will vanquish you!"
"What kind of lunatic is that guy?" Ethan mutters. He aims his rifle and shoots at the man''s chest plate. His armor bends under the impact, crushing his rib cage and lungs. "You are going to answer a few questions for me," Ethan threatens as he walks to the downed man.
"Adding the Intimidation skill. Based on your previous experience a level of 47 has been applied."
Chapter 12: Oath
"You shot me!" the man yells between pained gasps.
"If you don''t like the pain, blame your armor for letting you live. However, this gives us the occasion to discuss that god of yours," Ethan says as he kicks the man''s sword away.
The man pulls out a vial of red potion from a satchel and uncorks it. Ethan snatches it from his hand and identifies it.
Healing potion (F)
Accelerate the natural healing of the body, reducing days of rest to seconds.
Ethan swallows a gulp of the beverage. The taste is similar to that of an earthy tea. The pain of his injuries diminishes, but he feels that it would require more than one bottle to fully heal. He dangles the rest of the potion above the man who''s lying on the ground. "Give me your name. No, better, open your status," Ethan orders.
The man struggles to find his words, and with a sigh of resignation, he says, "Status."
Lucien d''Arcange
Lv.9/20 (Paladin) Human
Strength: 14 Charisma: 13
Dexterity: 12 Perception: 10
Constitution: 12 Willpower: 21
Intelligence: 11
Title
Dungeon conqueror (F)
Abilities
Banishment (F)
Divine oath (Seraphel)
Ether sight (F)
"Paladin, ¡ I guess Seraphel is your god of light. How is he?" Ethan asks.
"I am not worthy of meeting him yet. I hear his voice, guiding me since I chose my class," Lucien answers.
Ethan remarks, "You are quite the zealot for someone who took an oath this morning."
"I have seen the favors he grants, his light, and the purity of his ways," he begins. "Nothing a dark necromancer like you could understand."
"I am not a necromancer," Ethan says impatiently. ''Did his oath brainwash him?'' Ethan ponders. He asks, "What''s your real job?"
"Huh, ¡ I''m a paramedic," Lucien stutters.
"Paramedic. Then you should know the value of life," Ethan muses, still holding the potion out of Lucien''s reach. "Does your devotion to Seraphel overshadow your promise to do no harm?"
Lucien''s eyes narrow, a mix of anger and pain flitting across his face. "My oath ¡ is to help and to heal ¡ to slay the enemies of the light." Confusion is clear in his complexion.
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''He''s not himself,'' Ethan guesses. He pauses, waiting for Lucien to regain his calm. "One last thing, where did you go when you were transported to a dungeon?"
Confused, Lucien takes his time before answering, "An abandoned temple atop a mountain, occupied by goblins. With a city in the distance."
"Was it inhabited?" Ethan answers.
"I don''t know," Lucien precises.
Ethan lowers the potion to the ground. "Remove your chest plate before drinking. Or your ribs could heal inside your lungs," he warns. Without waiting on Lucien, Ethan walks away to the entrance.
"I''m not done with you!" Lucien yells as he stands up and throws the empty vial away.
Ethan looks back to see him taking a stance. "I showed you mercy. And yet, you insist on throwing away your life," Ethan threatens.
The paladin charges, his blade armed for a thrust. Ethan pulls out the Starfeel knight long sword and adapts a basic fencing stance. Lucien''s blade slides on Ethan''s as he deflects the first blow.
"Adding the Melee Weapon (Long sword) skill. Based on your previous experience a level of 19 has been applied."
''Guns seem unreliable against monsters. This new world is at a medieval-like technological level. I need to learn how to use the weapons I could obtain from there,'' Ethan thinks between exchanges.
The combat drags out as Ethan avoids dealing a killing blow on multiple occasions.
"Melee Weapon (Long sword) leveled up," the voice announces repeatedly.
''My muscle memory has already improved. This should not be possible. His movements are becoming increasingly complex, yet they seem slower and more predictable," Ethan notes.
Lucien steps back. His hands bleed traces of red on his sword''s handle. He breathes loudly, unable to regain his stamina.
"Done?" Ethan asks.
"Never!" Lucien yells as he swings with all his might.
Ethan moves in, placing himself behind Lucien''s hands. He grabs the Paladin by his chain mail shirt and tackles his feet, throwing him to the ground. Ethan steps on his back, maintaining him to the ground, and grabs his right arm, pulling inward with his entire weight. Lucien''s right shoulder dislocates in an echoing pop.
Lucien''s scream fills the corridors and chambers of the catacombs.
"Don''t follow me," Ethan threatens as he leaves the corridor. ''If what she said is true, I should not anger another god by killing one of his followers,'' Ethan thinks.
The secret door to Ethan''s apartment slides open, and Russ rushes outside to greet him. The overexcited dog refuses to stop his cuddles all the way to the couch.
Ethan finally sits down. He places three glass bottles on the table from his haversack. "Mister Miy? offered me three of the potions he was able to make. And a box of today''s leftover meat," Ethan says as he pulls out a plastic box of beef and cheese skewers without the pikes.
Russ'' tail wags loudly on the couch, drool forming at the edges of his maw.
Ethan opens the box and places it on the ground. "Ok," he says, and Russ begins his meal. "Wake me up when you need to go outside," Ethan mutters as he lies down on the couch.
His phone vibrates on the table. He looks at it, and seeing no notification, he opens the hidden app. He picks up the incoming call.
"Welcome back, Reaper five," Tombstone says.
"It''s three in the morning in France," Ethan grumbles.
"We are both working late," she begins. "Your target landed near Calais; we expect him to board a ship and leave France. But for now, we have a new mission for you."
Ethan sits up to see the screen. A map of a farming complex with fields, silos, warehouses, and houses appears.
"The system is putting many of our undercover agents at risk. One of them infiltrated a French cell of Ghaya and needs to be extracted asap," Tombstone explains. A series of pictures taken without the subjects'' knowledge appear on the screen.
"I remember them. Multiple attacks in Pakistan on uranium enrichment plants. They are targeted by a multitude of international arrest warrants," Ethan recalls.
"Our agent was tracking one of them who was supposed to soon come to France," Tombstone says.
"Who is the target?" Ethan asks.
A picture of a young man appears. Tombstone explains, "Specter nine. His current identity is Samir Ghali, infiltrated as one of their soldiers."
"Send me a navigable route to the target''s area. And put me in contact with Specter nine as soon as possible," Ethan demands.
Chapter 13: Rescue mission
A SCAR-H easily accessible through the opened window of his car, Ethan watches over Russ, who asked for a bathroom break. The rising sun hurts Ethan''s tired eyes as he drove the entire night.
The car radio is relaying a talk show. The hosts discuss endlessly, with little to no new information. But it reveals the main areas where monsters are still active. It seems that no new incursions are happening at the moment.
Only glancing from time to time, Ethan scrolls through posts of people discussing their new powers. Many of the survivors were forced into the Villager class, the second major class being Warrior.
A title attracts his attention: ''I killed a Villager and became a Wolf''. The anonymous original poster claims that a giant spider poisoned his friend, turning him into a frenzied beast. He defended himself with a broken pipe, but in doing so, he killed his friend. The system changed his class to Wolf, and since then he has been experiencing impulses of violence he''s scared of.
''This feels fake. But I saw spiders that were able to enrage humans,'' Ethan thinks.
Russ returns to the back of the car, and Ethan enters the driver''s seat. According to Tombstone, who helped him avoid major blocking crash sites, he''s not far away from the objective.
He stops his car in the parking lot of a forest hiking path. Five other cars are present. The layer of leaves on the hoods shows that they have been here since yesterday. The complex is located downhill on the other side of the forest.
Ethan opens his haversack, reviewing his equipment as he places it on his car. He changed his camouflage for a US Woodland. His silenced SCAR-H comes with both subsonic and armor-piercing M993 ammunition. And he prepared a KS23 shotgun with slugs.
With his gear equipped, he jogs into the forest with Russ by his side. Birds and rodents awaken on their path, startled by their presence. A shiver passes over Ethan''s skin as they pass a darker part of the forest.
Russ spins, walking backward to face the source of Ethan''s shivers. Predator''s sight reveals a host of small creatures hiding in the trees and bushes.
''Leveling up would be useful,'' Ethan thinks. "Russ, down," he orders before opening fire with subsonic rounds. Five of the creatures fall from the trees before their group reacts.
Arrows whistle towards Ethan, and he dodges them between shots. Five green creatures rush out of the forest with salvaged weapons in their hands. Their green skin, poorly shaped body, flat nose, pointy ears, and yellowed teeth project the memories of goblins into Ethan''s mind.
''Kill!'' Ethan thinks. Russ snaps the first goblin''s throat in an instant. The four others circle him, scared to approach, as Russ plans his next attack.
"Russ leveled up."
Ethan focuses on gunning down the archers and runaways. He keeps an eye on Russ, but the dog handles his enemies with concerning ease.
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"You leveled up. Russ leveled up," the voice announces.
As all the goblins lie dead, Ethan joins Russ. "You decapitated this one in a single bite. Those two points of strength really make a difference," Ethan praises.
He opens a goblin with his combat knife. "All is the same, except for their digestive track, which is oversized for their height. And they have pretty weak limbs," Ethan explains to Russ.
"You obtained the Goblin hunter title. One characteristic point has been granted."
Ethan scans the goblins'' remains for anything of value, but nothing appears to have any. Checking one last time for any life signs, Ethan resumes his path to the complex.
Nearing the edge of the tree line Ethan, sees his goal. No living being appears to be near his hiding spot. Surrounded by metallic fences, the place is only accessible through a dirt path, leaving the public road kilometers away. No one is working in the fields, and the place is devoid of activity.
Ethan scans the objective through his scope, catching glimpses of armed soldiers at the windows. He calls tombstone.
"Welcome back, Reaper five."
"I''m near the target location. Have you reestablished communications with Specter nine?" Ethan asks.
"We are still unable to join him. But his GPS gives us his approximated position," Tombstone answers. Ethan''s phone displays the map once again, with a dot on one of the warehouses. Tombstone says, "The signal is weak; he could be underground."
Away from the buildings, near the fence, Ethan notices a man dragging a corpse into a vast burning pit. The creature he holds is a gray bird with claws at the joints of his wings and a humanoid face. The man carries an AKM, a keffiyeh is loosely placed around his neck, and he wears aviator glasses.
As the man tosses the creature into the pit, Ethan shoots him in the face. He falls into the pit along with the creature.
Ethan waits a few long minutes, checking for any kind of reaction. "Hide," he orders Russ. Convinced he''s still undetected, he exits the forest and climbs the fence. In a few seconds, he dives into the pit.
He checks the man for any form of ID. Finding only his phone, he unlocks it using the dead''s fingerprint. Incoming messages call him ''Nadir''.
Stashing his own equipment into his haversack, Ethan switches clothes and gear, hiding his face under the keffiyeh and his new glasses.
"Adding the Disguise skill. Based on your previous experience a level of 47 has been applied."
Exiting the pit, Ethan pours a good quantity of gasoline from a nearby canister and sets the two corpses ablaze.
As he walks into the complex, a man sheltered under the shade of a porch yells, "There''s one in there." He points at the door behind him. He''s better equipped than Ethan, with a bulletproof vest and additional magazines.
"Language (Arabic) leveled up."
Without a word, Ethan follows the man inside. The barn shelters three tractors and various farming tools. Ethan''s guide keeps glancing back with a questioning look on his face.
"You reek, you fell in or something?" the man asks as he guides Ethan. As Ethan''s response does not come, the man slows down to a stop. He spins around, bashing the air with his rifle''s stock. He''s stunned by the sudden disappearance of Ethan.
Ethan, who circled a tractor using silent steps, pierces the man''s skull at the root of the spine, stabbing his brain. He catches him in his fall and drags him next to a tool cabinet.
Searching his belongings, Ethan finds a keychain with four keys on it. He takes the bullet-proof vest and the extra magazines before hiding the body.
Ethan half-opens the door. He surveys the area for a long minute. He moves to the building where Specter nine''s phone is located.
As Ethan opens the door, four men lift their heads, acknowledging his presence before returning to their occupations. Ethan quickly looks around. They converted the warehouse into a bastion. The once vast storage space has been enclosed by plywood walls. Sandbags form fortifications at the end of main corridors, mounted with RPKMs.
"Open your status!" A man yells from underground, his voice echoing through a corridor.
Chapter 14: Bitter drink
"What''s your name?!" the man yells.
"Samir Ghali," another answers, his voice barely a whisper.
Predator''s sight reveals five people underground; one of them is wounded and tied to a chair.
Passing along an opened crate, Ethan sees packets of black paste wrapped in plastic film. An idea sparks in his mind, and he looks around for a coffee maker. There is one in the room with a half-full carafe, along with a few other cooking utensils. Ethan subtilizes a pack of opium, hides his haversack along the crate, and walks to the improvised kitchen.
He pours himself a large cup of coffee and drinks it in a single sip. "Long night? Give me one too," one of the men in the room asks.
Ethan empties the rest into a second cup and hands it to the man. The carafe emptied; he places a new filter and fills the bottom with opium before topping it off with a copious amount of coffee.
The machine drips slowly. The man who finishes his coffee sits above a disassembled AKM, visibly confused.
Ethan sits in front of him and begins to reassemble the rifle.
"Why the sunglasses?" the man asks.
Ethan lifts them for an instant, revealing profound dark rings under his eyes. He squints his eyes, mimicking pain from the room''s lights, and hides them back.
"Adding the Sabotage skill. Based on your previous experience a level of 41 has been applied," the voice announces as Ethan places the assembled AKM on the table.
The man inspects his weapon, sliding the bolt and dry-firing several times before loading a magazine. "Thanks," he says.
Another man''s phone rings. He picks up and puts his phone on speaker. The room fills with the muffled voice of the caller, the sound echoing slightly. "Status report," the voice demands, its tone clipped and authoritative.
The man with the phone straightens, his expression turning serious. "All clear on our end. We''re ready for your arrival," he reports, glancing around the room, his eyes lingering on Ethan for a moment before moving away.
"Good," the caller responds. "We''ll be there in half an hour. Order everyone to recheck the entire farm."
As the call ends, the room falls into a tense silence. The men begin to prepare themselves, checking their weapons and gathering their gear. They''re clearly expecting someone or something important.
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As the four men exit the building, the last of them looks back at Ethan. "You coming?" he asks.
Ethan moves to the coffee maker and explains, "Just making myself another cup, or I''ll fall asleep." He morphs his voice to mimic that of his victim, capitalizing on the brewer noise to hide the differences.
"Adding the Mimicry skill. Based on your previous experience a level of 41 has been applied."
The man disappears outside with a grunt of disapproval. Ethan pours four cups with sugar cubes and places them on a tray. Keeping his steps quiet, he takes back his haversack and moves downstairs. A closed door waits for him at the bottom of the staircase. The underground appears to have been dug and barely reinforced.
One of his keys bears the same brand name as the lock. The door opens, and he enters a room filled with torture instruments. Three men are watching, their backs against walls, as the last of them punches a tied-up Specter nine.
Seeing Ethan''s plate, they quickly go to him to take a cup. Still near the door, he silently locks it. He waits for all of them to take a few sips and says, "Did he say something?"
"Not a word, but his name. He still refuses to open his status," one answers. He drinks his coffee in a few gulps, unable to detect the bitter opium mixed in his coffee.
"Mind if I give it a go?" Ethan says, nodding at the torturer''s blistered knuckles.
"Be my guest," the man says.
Ethan glances over their tools, a collection of pliers, knives, saws, torches, and drugs. "Did you drug him yet?" Ethan asks.
"Ecstasy, a few hours ago," one of them answers. He struggles to stand straight, his pupils narrowing with every second.
One of them falls to the ground. Another moves to grapple Ethan, but he tumbles after two steps. The torturer grabs an AKM lying on a wall. Ethan throws a knife at his throat.
The last man standing grabs the wall to keep himself straight. His head sways as he looks around for anything to use as a weapon. "You bastard," he mutters. His eyes cross, and he falls to the ground.
Ethan looks around for any camera or microphone. Certain he isn¡¯t watched, he says, "Specter nine, I''m Reaper five."
Specter nine lifts his head, a smile on his mangled face. "A Reaper, ¡ here to take me to the other side?"
"Not today. Open your mouth." Ethan says. He pours half a healing potion down the man''s throat. He cuts the ropes binding him to the chair.
Specter nine quickly stands up, looking at his bruises disappearing in mere instants. Touching his face, he praises, "That''s a miracle." He scans the overdosing men and asks, "What did you give them?"
"Their own opium; the lethal dose is one to two grams. And with how much I put in their coffee, they ingested around five," Ethan begins. "Someone important warned them of his arrival. Twenty-five minutes. I heard him through someone''s speaker."
Specter nine freezes at the information. He grabs his phone and plays an audio clip. "We got him and his family. Get the material to the farm," the same man says.
"Yeah, him," Ethan confirms. He tosses Specter nine an AKM and a vest from one of the captors. "My car is eight kilometers away across the forest," Ethan says, showing the location on his phone.
"I can''t go, not yet," Specter nine begins. "Rafiq Najjar is bringing an engineer to turn nuclear material into dirty bombs. They plan to use them all over Europe."
Ethan tosses his head around, exhaling loudly as frustration fills his mind. "Do you have a plan?" he asks.
Chapter 15: Life gamble
Specter nine pauses, his gaze sharpening as he considers their limited options. "Yes, but it''s risky. We need to intercept Najjar before he gets here. If we can get the engineer, we can delay their plans."
Ethan grumbles, "The place is on high alert. We can use the fields to prepare an ambush, but the second we act, all hell will break loose. We''ll be shot at from every direction, and neither of us can dodge bullets."
"Then we get to their improvised lab. They will probably park along it, and we''ll be able to use their cars to escape," Specter nine proposes.
Ethan asks, "How many of them are in the lab? And how many more are coming with Najjar?"
"Five that I know of, maybe more now. I don''t know about Najjar''s escort, but their leaders usually have a three-man entourage," Specter nine guesses.
"Where is the lab?" Ethan asks.
Specter nine points to warehouse on his map; they only need to march along three buildings and cross a small palisade.
"Get Tombstone to agree, and we''re doing it. Otherwise, I will extract you. Even if I must drag your unconscious body to do so," Ethan orders.
Specter nine immediately calls, explaining the situation to Tombstone.
Ethan moves upstairs. The building stayed empty, but he can hear steps outside. He waits for a path to clear and orders, ''Come, sneak,'' with his inner voice.
Waiting on either Russ or Specter nine, Ethan rests his back on a wall. He has had little time to himself since yesterday morning. The world now includes leveling, abilities, gods, and monsters straight out of a fantasy game. For someone like him, a hitman entrenched in the shadows of the underworld, it throws into question the relevance of his painfully honed skills.
The infiltration and ambush tactics he''s using feel almost primitive compared to the powers some individuals now wield. Yet, here he is, relying on old-fashioned tactics: hiding, lying, poisoning, and ambushing his targets.
His thoughts are interrupted as he sees Russ'' heartbeat approaching. He opens the door to let his companion in, who immediately sniffs around. "Leave it," Ethan orders, pointing at the crate of opium.
Specter nine joins them. "Tombstone approved," he says. Ethan''s phone vibrates, and Najjar''s target package appears as a confirmation.
Russ lies down in front of another crate, his front paws crossed.
"What is he doing?" Specter nine asks.
Ethan moves to the crate and lifts the lid, revealing a stash of C4 bombs. "He just found us a wonderful distraction," Ethan praises. Each explosive is tied to a Nokia with a phone number labeled on it. "Take those; we''ll split on our wait to the laboratory. Hide them under their vehicles and where it will do the most damage," Ethan says as he enters the numbers in a group chat. He leaves one of the bombs in the opium crate. And empties a bottle of cleaning alcohol on it.
They leave the building, each choosing their own path to the laboratory. ''Follow, sneak,'' Ethan orders.
Russ rushes flat out between hiding spots as Ethan uses predator''s sight to know when to hide. They pass three hurried patrols, each time hiding behind vehicles and decor. On his path, Ethan sees a gasoline tank and throws an explosive behind it.
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As he edges the laboratory, he uses predator''s sight, discovering that five people are waiting inside. Specter nine is at the corner of another building. Ethan signals him to come over.
They wait for Najjar''s arrival, hiding in bushes near the laboratory back door. "What class did you get?" Specter nine asks in a hushed whisper.
"I choose Harbinger. It lets me grow stronger for ten levels, and then I''ll be able to choose another class," Ethan explains.
"Choose? It just told me I was a Warrior," Specter nine asks, surprise in his tone.
Ethan guesses, "You must have had only this option. I had more than ten to choose from. And those who unlocked no class became Villagers."
Two loud engines approach, most likely 4x4s or small trucks. They park in front of the laboratory. "Get in!" Najjar''s voice orders as cars'' doors open.
Predator''s sight reveals seven people: Najjar, two soldiers, a man, a woman, a child, and a giant soldier. The last man is easily two meters high, with a massive heart that pulses only once every two seconds.
"Your eyes are glowing red," Specter nine yells in Ethan''s ear. He did not really yell, but Ethan perceived it as an all-out scream.
Ethan shakes his head to make the ringing disappear. "In addition to the five soldiers inside, Najjar brought three, including a man built like a tank. ¡ Thanks for telling me about the eyes. It would have been a problem if I used my ability while undercover," Ethan says.
They move, placing themselves on each side of the backdoor. As the front door locks, Ethan sends a message in the group chat and initiates a call.
The quiet hum of the farm shatters as thunderous detonations turn the compound into a battlefield wreathed in smoke and debris.
Specter nine flinches at the first blast but quickly regains composure. As the thick smoke billows and the scent of burning gasoline fills the air, Ethan counts down on his fingers: three¡ two¡ one. He kicks the door open, and Specter Nine rolls in.
The room erupts in gunfire. Specter Nine fires short, controlled bursts, aiming for surprised, out-of-cover guards. Ethan advances, dispatching enemies who scramble for makeshift covers.
Russ bites the ankle of the first enemy in sight, dragging him behind cover to finish him.
The three civilians dive to the ground, shaking in terror. In a desperate bid for escape, Najjar dashes towards the front door. Ethan aims and fires, hitting him in the leg. The giant, caught off-guard by the ferocity of the attack, lifts a M249 and unleashes a tempest of lead towards Ethan.
Specter nine empties his magazine at the giant, but the bullets fail to pierce his skin. He redirects his fire at Specter nine who dives behind a crate to protect himself.
Ethan, not hesitating, pulls his shotgun from the haversack as he charges the giant. Spotting Ethan, he swings the machine gun in his direction. Just as the giant pulls the trigger, Ethan dives, avoiding the bullets, and fires his shotgun. The twenty-three millimeters slug strikes the base of the giant''s skull, splattering his brain on the ceiling.
"I''m wounded!" Specter nine yells from his cover.
Ethan glances at the vehicles outside; one of them received an imposing shard of metal from the gas tank into the engine, but the other is intact. ''Their leader was driving this one,'' Ethan recalls. Najjar raises a handgun at Ethan, but Russ shatters his wrist with a bite. ''Kill,'' Ethan thinks as he takes the car keys from Najjar''s other hand.
"Russ leveled up. You leveled up."
Ethan grabs the civilian man lying on the ground by the collar and raises him to his feet. "Get your family in the truck and start the engine!" Ethan orders the man, placing the keys in his hand. He''s in shock. Ethan slaps him with the back of his hand. Falling on the ground, the man seems to understand and starts dragging the two others outside.
Ethan rushes to Specter nine''s side. He received three bullets in the vest, two of which penetrated, one close to his heart. "I can''t move you. And if you take a healing potion, it could push the bullet into your heart," Ethan thinks aloud.
"Then just give me my rifle and leave me here," Specter nine says.
''The dungeon stones teleport your entire party, and she said that both allies and bonds are part of it,'' Ethan thinks. He moves to the window and breaks it with his stock. He yells at the man as he ignites the truck, "Leave! We have another way out."
The driver hesitates for an instant, trying to say something. Ethan disappears inside the building and hears the truck driving away.
"That''s righteous of you, but now we''ll both die here," Specter nine says.
Ethan pulls out the Abyssal Keep dungeon stone but refrains from shattering it. ''Russ appears alongside my status; do I have to ask him to join it, like in video games? Invite, ¡ party invite,'' Ethan thinks, his hand on Reaper nine''s shoulder.
A window appears before the wounded man, and after a quick glance, he says, "Accept."
"Russ, come," Ethan orders. His dog near them, Ethan shatters the dungeon stone. A blinding light englobes them as Ethan places his hands to hold Specter nine in place.
Chapter 16: Surgery
The air fills with sulfur, the stench attacking Ethan''s nose. They appear at the end of a vast, broken stone bridge, each slab fractured by age and neglect. The bridge arches perilously over a scorched landscape, where the ground itself seems scarred by some great cataclysm. Twisted, charred remnants of what might once have been trees dot the horizon.
Before them looms a titanic castle, its gargantuan stone walls climbing towards dark clouds. The architecture is a brutal mix of jagged spires and towering buttresses, all adorned with nightmarish gargoyles.
Iron-bound doors stand closed at the end of the bridge, their surface etched with a scene of ancient war. Armored warriors confront a horde of bizarre beings, each with unusually many eyes, mouths, and limbs.
Above, the few remaining beams of sunlight struggle through the clouded sky. The wind howls as it whips through the broken bridge.
Ethan slowly guides Specter nine to the ground, placing him on his back. Russ circles around them, watching every angle for hypothetical threats.
Ethan triggers predator''s sight. Seeing no living beings but the three of them, he focuses on Specter nine''s wounds. One of the bullets spread at impact and moves around his guts. The other remained in the form of a bullet and is stuck between two ribs around his heart.
"Be honest, how bad is it?" Specter nine asks.
Ethan smirks. "I''ve seen worse in people who survived their wounds," he says as he pulls out a first aid kit. Cutting down his patient''s bulletproof vest, he explains, "I''m going to need you to stay as still as you can and to slow down your breaths. Can you do that?"
Specter nine nods and turns his gaze to the sky. With a pair of tweezers and a small scalpel, Ethan first addresses the wound near his heart. He tears the torn fabric to fully expose the wound. Using the scalpel, he makes a small incision to widen the entry wound. The edges of the skin part slightly, revealing the glint of the projectile lodges between the ribs.
With the tweezers, Ethan reaches into the small incision. His brow furrows in concentration, forming drops of sweat. Specter nine''s breaths grow shallow and slow, obeying Ethan''s instructions despite the pain.
Clasping the bullet, Ethan gently maneuvers it out. The bullet, coated with a mix of blood and other fluids, comes free. Blood emerges from the wound in small gulps. Ethan places a compress and guides Specter nine''s right hand on it. "Press as hard as you can," he orders.
Ethan shifts his focus to the second, more challenging wound. Activating predator''s sight once again, he perceives subtle heat pathways that mark the paths of the fragments. Ethan bends over the wound, his eyes not on the flesh itself but focusing through the lens of enhanced sight.
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Each movement is slow, calculated to avoid unnecessary damage to the liver, gallbladder, or stomach. The fragments are hard to reach. As he probes, his hand adjusts to the feedback from the tweezers, feeling the resistance of tissues and the crunch of meeting metal fragments.
One by one, Ethan finds and extracts each fragment. Some are removed smoothly, while others require multiple adjustments. Ethan has to refill his ether every ten seconds to maintain predator''s sight.
After the last fragment is safely removed and accounted for, Ethan closes the wounds with bandages. He hands his patient the remaining half of a healing potion.
"Ether manipulation leveled up, medicine leveled up, Predator''s sight ranked up," the voice announces.
Ethan''s senses sharpen further, and the world around him transforms into a sensory map of hyper-detail. His ears pick up every subtle sound in the desolate landscape, from the faintest crack of shifting rubble to the screaming wind. His sight overlays the auditory map with visual insights, rendering the surrounding ruins in stark contrast. Ethan sees not only the physical realm but also the heat signature of everything instead of only the living beings.
Unbearable pain pierces his mind, and he is overwhelmed by the barrage of senses that his brain struggles to process. Every distant rustle of wind, every shift in heat, even the faintest echoes of movement in the castle converge to assault his senses.
This unsustainable agony clouds his thoughts, blurring the reality that surrounds him. Through the onslaught, he wills the words into his mind, ''cancel predator''s sight.''
He comes back to reality and falls on his back, his head ringing with a pulsating headache. "You gain a Willpower point," the voice screams in his mind with the violence of a jackhammer.
"I was going to complain that you didn''t give me anything for the pain. But you look like you''d need it more than me," Specter nine jests.
Ethan closes his eyes. The hard stone floor is a comfortable bed compared to what he just experienced. "Sorry, I used my morphine, and my hideout was out of it. And the pills I have work too slowly," Ethan apologizes.
Russ licks Ethan''s face, worried for his pained friend.
Specter nine stands up, scanning the castle and the desolated landscape. "Where are we, Ethan?" he asks.
Surprised, Ethan asks, "How do you know my name?"
"It appeared in the party invite, and I can see it alongside my own status," Specter nine explains.
"Status," Ethan says. Next to his own status, Ethan sees Russ''s and a new, minimalistic one.
Kyle Bennett
Lv.4/20 (Warrior) Human
"We are in a dungeon, a place in another world you can reach using special stones left by monsters. Well, this one I got as a reward for being the first to clear another dungeon," Ethan explains with his eyes closed.
"How do we return to our world?" Kyle asks, his gaze captivated by the doors'' illustrations.
"Using a return stone, I got two from my first dungeon. And I still have one left," Ethan begins. "We can wait here for few hours or even a day and return when things should have calmed down. But I''d like to explore whatever is behind those doors, as I have no way to come back here if we leave."
"You want to go in there? Now?" Specter nine asks.
Ethan clings to his consciousness to say, "After a nap." Russ places himself along Ethan''s head, keeping watch over his sleeping master.
Chapter 17: Abyssal keep
Dazed, Ethan smells smoke and opens his heavy eyes to see fire crawling around him. He tries to stand, but his legs fail him. His breath comes in shallow, ragged gasps, and the heat presses down on him, scorching his skin. Panic seizes his chest, and the crackle of flames grows louder, filling his ears. He reaches out a trembling hand, but the ashes choke him with every breath. His vision blurs, consumed by the growing darkness.
The biting cold jolts Ethan back to full alertness. He gasps and breathes in, trying to cast away the dreamed suffocation. Remembering where he is, he closes his eyes to let go of the nightmare''s emotions.
As Ethan scans the night sky, now void of clouds, it unveils a mesmerizing star-filled panorama unlike anything on Earth. The constellations are unfamiliar, arranged in patterns that do not align with anything he can remember.
But what truly captures his attention are the two moons hanging in the sky, each casting its own unique light on the scorched landscape. One moon is larger than the other, a luminous orb that bathes the surroundings in a pale, silvery glow. The smaller moon is a sharper, brighter beacon, seemingly closer and more radiant. Its intense white light starkly contrasts the nightly shadows.
Specter nine sits a few meters away, keeping watch of the massive doors.
"Anything happened while I was sleeping?" Ethan asks.
Kyle turns to him and summarizes, "I saw nothing, not even a bird or a rat. You were out for a good six hours."
"That long?" Ethan asks as he removes his low-cost bulletproof vest. He quickly swaps for his real gear, discarding his disguise. "You should at least use that one," Ethan says, pointing at the vest he just placed on the ground.
"How did all of this come out of your bag?" Kyle asks.
"That¡¯s a haversack; anything I put in loses shape and mass. It''s still limited; otherwise, I would have taken a Barrett M82A1 instead of the KS23," Ethan explains.
"Yeah, by the way, how did the big guy survive when I shot him? I''m fairly sure I dumped half a magazine in his body," Kyle recalls.
"I''ve recently met monsters and humans whose bodies are so tough that rifle bullets splatter on them. For humans, I guess it''s either an ability or a high constitution," Ethan explains.
Kyle dons the bulletproof vest, gathering Ethan''s remaining magazines for himself. He grumbles, "That system is really fucking us."
"I think it can be an opportunity. We became monsters in our own world through our hard work, and I''m convinced we can grind our way towards even greater heights," Ethan says as he stands up and walks toward the doors.
Specter nine laughs. "This is mighty optimistic for the image I had of you. I mean, you and Reaper one are legendarily inexpressive."
Ethan places a hand on each door, pushing as hard as he can. "One is on another level; I still have my moments," he jests.
As the massive doors groan open under Ethan''s force, the interior of the keep reveals itself. The air inside is stale, heavy with the scent of decay and old stone. What little light filters in from the moons illuminates a scene both grand and grotesque.
Before them stretches a gigantic staircase, majestic in its design but haunting in its current state. The stairs are wide and rise slowly. However, it''s not the architecture that arrests their attention, but the figures scattered upon the staircase. Dozens of dried corpses lie immobile, their bodies desiccated, their flesh long gone, leaving only leathery husks. Crimson crystals sprout from the corpses like mushrooms. These crystals vary in size; some are small and shard-like, while others jut out in jagged spikes that seem to consume the body from within.
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These crimson growths emit a faint glow, casting eerie, shifting shadows on the walls and ceiling of the keep. Ethan steps cautiously onto the first stair, his eyes scanning for any sign of danger. ''Heel,'' he thinks, not wanting Russ to touch any of the corpses or crystals.
Kyle follows closely behind, his expression a mix of curiosity and disgust. "What the hell happened here?" he whispers, his voice barely carrying over the faint creaks of their footsteps.
As they reach the top, they find themselves facing another ornate door, its surface marked with strange symbols and inlaid with what could be gold and silver. As Ethan pushes the doors, they reveal a vast, decrepit open garden garnished with houses, forges, and other buildings.
Stepping in, they realize that their long ascension amounted to nothing more than traversing the outer wall. The vast garden is overrun with wild, twisted vegetation. A faint sound captures their attention ¨C a subtle, shuffling movement that stirs the air. It''s coming from several locations, both in the houses and from the shadows of narrow alleys between the buildings.
Ethan triggers predator''s sight, hoping for it to be bearable. He sees humanoid corpses armored like knights rushing toward them. Their bodies are colonized by the same crimson crystals. "Down," he orders Russ. "Seventh, twelveth, third, and fourth, there are two dozen of them," Ethan informs Kyle.
Both raise their guns and shoot at the rushing targets; their bullets crater in their armors but shatter the flesh they touch. The creatures fall one after the other, and only a few reach them.
Ethan pulls out his sword and engages the first to arrive. His blade parries the assailant''s attack and swiftly decapitates him. Two others approach, their blades raised high. Ethan deflects the first and kicks him to the side, giving Specter nine the occasion to headshot him.
Ethan dashes on the second and pummels his head, making him fall backward. With a slash, Ethan severs his legs and finishes him with a thrust to the throat.
The garden falls silent. "You leveled up. Kyle Bennett leveled up. Kyle Bennett leveled up," the voice announces.
Ethan opens his status to check for any kind of contamination.
Ethan Reed
Lv.7 (Harbinger) Human
Strength: 20 + Charisma: 12 +
Dexterity: 18 + Perception: 16 +
Constitution: 15 + Willpower: 19 +
Intelligence: 18 +
Available characteristic points: 3
Titles
Dungeon conqueror (F)
First dungeon conqueror (F)
First hunter
Goblin hunter
Slayer of the first incursion
Kin slayer
Kobold hunter
Skeleton hunter
Abilities
Anonymity (F)
Identification (F)
Piercing shot (F)
Predator''s sight (E)
Silent steps (F)
Alteration
Demonic ether corruption (minor)
"I have been contaminated with demonic ether. I fear this is what turned them," Ethan informs.
Kyle checks his status and says, "I am corrupted too."
Ethan checks Russ status, and regrets coming here as he sees it there too. "I''ll check their belongings; we''re screwed anyway," Ethan says as he scans the corpses.
Abyss watcher plate armor
Armor worn by the knights of the Abyssal keep. It protects its user from the effects of demonic Ether exposure.
Abyss watcher long sword
Sword wielded by the knights of the Abyssal Keep. A servant of the god of light blessed its blade with an anti-demon enchantment.
Abyss watcher lantern
A lantern fueled by the fragments of a crystal of light Ether. Dissipates the surrounding demonic, death, and dark Ether.
''Too bad it''s empty,'' Ethan thinks. "I think our best option is to continue and find something like this lantern or something more powerful," Ethan says. "Those armors are barely holding on, and that''s when they don''t have serrated damages tearing into their flesh. We should at least each take one of those swords in case we meet demons."
"Demons?" Kyle puffs.
"Hey, I''m discovering this at the same pace as you. I''m just guessing," Ethan retorts.
Armed with their new blades, they cross the garden towards the most central, imposing building.
Chapter 18: Abyssal keep - Part 2
The landscape around them shifts dramatically. They leave the ghostly quiet of the garden city, stepping into a fortified military encampment. The transition is marked by a sudden change in architecture and atmosphere. Barracks and armories replace the homes and forges. Each building bears the scars of a long-forgotten battle.
As they move deeper, the remains of abyss watchers become more frequent. Each corpse is adorned in their heavy armor, desecrated by the passage of time and the crimson crystal sprouting from them.
"This was their last stand," Kyle murmurs, his voice somber as he surveys the carnage. "They were fighting something that came from that door," he adds, gesturing towards the open doorway of a massive building. The crystals didn''t kill them. Most are missing large portions of their bodies, as though struck by high-caliber projectiles. The patterns of blood spatter suggest the figurative shots were fired from near that door.
The air around them thickens with an ominous chill that seeps deep into their bones. Amidst the silent statues of fallen warriors, one figure stirs. Its movements are subtle at first ¨C a mere twitch of an armored hand. Then, with a groan of metal and a cracking of the crimson crystals, an armored figure rises from the ground.
He stands taller and more formidable than the others, his armor intricately detailed and marked with symbols of rank. A tattered cape rises in the wind, projecting a long shadow in the moonlight.
He utters a series of guttural sounds, a language unknown to Kyle and only heard once by Ethan. Each word echoes in the cold air with a palpable wave of corrupted ether. They both clutch their chests as a freezing sensation grips their hearts, the waves of ether overwhelming their senses. The ground beneath them vibrates under the abyss watcher''s steps.
He reaches into the mount of his fallen brethren, his gauntleted hand grasping the hilt of a great sword embedded among the bodies. With a force that belies the rust and decay, he wrenches it free with the sound of metal scraping against bone.
The sword, massive and encrusted with the same crimson crystals that adorn his armor, seems almost as formidable as himself. Hefting it with an ease that defies its enormous size and evident weight, the watcher fixes his gaze on Ethan and Kyle.
The abyss watcher hurls himself at them. His body cuts through the air, a dark blur barely perceivable. Ethan reacts instinctively, pushing Kyle to the side as they both dive out of the sword''s lethal path. Russ runs back, hiding a few meters away, terrified by the creature''s aura.
The sword slams into the ground where they stood moments ago, sending a shockwave of cracked stone and crystal shards into the air.
Scrambling to their feet, they barely have a moment to recover. Despite the bulk of his armor, his movements are fluid and unnervingly fast.
Kyle opens fire, the bullets of his AKM ricochet on the armor, flying far in the distance. The projectiles that hit at the right angle splatter across the metal, leaving only a scratch. "It feels like shooting a tank!" Kyle yells.
Ethan throws the KS23 and a belt of shells to Kyle. "Shoot his legs; I''ll try something!" he orders.
Unyielding and relentless, the watcher raises his great sword. He strides forward, each of his steps an Olympic leap that scars the ground.
Kyle relies on agility, rolling to the side as the watcher swings, the great sword slicing through the air. The ground trembles as the blade strikes, each time embedding itself momentarily. Using the opening, Kyle blasts the watcher''s weight-bearing leg.
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The impact of the slug reverberates through the night. The shot distorts the armor''s metal and imbalances the watcher, who staggers forward.
Meanwhile, Ethan pulls out two books from his haversack and quickly opens them. Their contents flow into his mind in a few risqu¨¦ seconds. He stands, placing his hand forward. His mind races through the just-obtained memories of ethereal diagrams and sigils. He closes his eyes, visualizing the flow of ether around him, feeling it swirl with a cold, dark presence exuded by the abyss watcher.
Ethan begins to draw upon the energy, channeling it from the environment. He sees it as streams flowing from the air, through the exposed part of his skin and the thin fabric of his trellis. He feels it collect in his heart, a pool that grows with each beat, each thump reverberating in his mind.
"Ether manipulation leveled up."
With deliberate intention, he guides this energy upward, through the core of his being, toward his mind, where thought meets will. He shapes it, his focus sharpening the raw ether into the diagram of his spell. The sigils of the hex echo in his mind, and he mouths them silently despite ignoring the language.
With a final mental push, Ethan releases the debilitating hex towards the abyss watcher. The spell flies from his hand in a spiral of spectral smoke, its path twisted and unnatural. As the hex strikes the abyss watcher, a visible shudder runs through the behemoth''s form. His steps falter, his movements becoming sluggish as the hex saps his strength.
Kyle aims his shotgun at Ethan, who hears too late the armored footsteps thundering behind him. From the corner of his eye, he glimpses a blade descending in a lethal arc. Suddenly, a shadow darts forward, latching onto the neck of the menace. Russ grips the soldier tightly, ferociously tearing at his face.
The watcher''s eyes, glowing fiercely with crimson light, focus on Ethan. He rushes toward him at an unnatural speed, despite his unbalanced and hindered steps. He raises his great sword high and slams it with a force that does not just bite the earth but shatters it. The ground buckles under their feet, and they struggle to keep balance amidst the disintegrating floor.
The ground collapses, swallowing Ethan and the watcher into a pit of darkness. Ethan hears a yap above and realizes Russ is falling with them. He grabs his dog by the collar and spins around to throw his companion up. The last he sees of the hole is Specter nine catching Russ by the neck as he reaches the edge of it.
Ethan quickly orients himself amidst the debris and darkness. As he and the watcher plummet through the crumbling keep, Ethan reaches for his SCAR-H, which hangs across his chest by its sling.
The abyss watcher, still reeling from the hex, is driven by a primal rage. His massive form is a blur of motion in the limited light piercing through the collapsing ground above. He hurls his great sword at Ethan, and the blade spins in the air, narrowly missing its target.
Ethan braces his rifle, aiming for the narrow gaps in the watcher''s thickly armored joints. The gunshots report deafening in the enclosed space. Bullet after bullet punches at the watcher''s armor. The high-caliber armor-piercing rounds dent the joints with each impact.
Despite the barrage, the abyss watcher''s momentum is barely hindered. As they continue to fall, the watcher reaches out with his massive left gauntlet, grabbing Ethan with an iron grip. The force of the grasp crushes Ethan''s plate carrier, squeezing the air from his lungs.
Ethan gasps, pain flaring across his ribcage. He struggles to place his muzzle into the watcher''s wrist joint. The bullets tear into the watcher''s forearm. His grip on Ethan loosens, giving Ethan just enough leeway to wrestle free.
As they continue to fall, the watcher''s blade, released in the chaos, descends in a slow, spinning motion. Ethan manages to grab the handle, angling the blade to skim the watcher''s chest plate. The velocity difference isn''t enough to penetrate the armor. Ethan uses all his remaining strength to keep the blade positioned against his adversary as they plummet.
Through predator''s sight, Ethan senses the ground rapidly approaching. Reacting quickly, he opens his status and boosts his constitution to eighteen, bracing for impact.
The collision is a brutal blur of pain. his body tumbles through what feels like a field of blades. Sharp rocks and debris lash out at him, each causing an excruciating laceration. Just as he thinks they might finally come to a stop, his back slams against a wall with a force that renders him unconscious. For a fleeting moment, everything fades into darkness. As he drifts off, the only sound piercing the silence is the system notification echoing in his mind. "You leveled up, you leveled up, you leveled up, you leveled up."
Chapter 19: Abyssal keep - Part 3
Ethan''s consciousness flickers back. His return to awareness is slow, marked by throbbing pains pulsating through his body. As his vision clears, he finds himself at the end of a dimly lit corridor. The air is thick with the metallic scent of blood and the sharp tang of ether.
He''s lying on his side, every breath a torment. Around him lay massive pieces of fallen stone and the ancient bodies of slain soldiers. Their armors are dented and torn, and their expressions are frozen in their last agonies. The blood from these countless warriors flowed into a river that found its way into a large crack in the ground.
From this pool, a massive crystal has emerged, shooting upward. It pulsates softly, as if beating with a heart of its own. As Ethan''s gaze follows the crystal''s ascent, he sees the abyss watcher grotesquely impaled. The crystal pierced through his back and emerged from his chest. His own sword is buried deep in the watcher''s abdomen.
Silence envelops the corridor, broken only by the faint drip of thick blood oozing from the watcher. Ethan pulls himself into a sitting position, pain lancing through him with each movement. He scans his own body. His flesh is slashed in multiple places, and he''s bleeding. He feels his shattered rib cage with every breath.
He pulls out a healing potion and empties its contents. Soon he can rise to his feet, his pains vanishing as his flesh heals. He takes a step, and his lower back sparks with pain. ''Is that what it feels like to be old?'' he jests to himself. With a few more steps and two pills of Vicodin, he makes the pain bearable.
Ethan pulls up his status. ''Level eleven?'' he thinks, surprised. ''It does say that I''ve got a class change available, but I thought my max level would be ten. ¡ Now that I think of it, Russ and the Paladin have a slash twenty after their level. Can I continue to level up as a Harbinger indefinitely?'' Perplexed, Ethan closes his status.
A green light emerges from the abyss watcher form. A shadow in his image slowly falls to the ground. Ethan reloads and raises his rifle, but the figure is devoid of interest for him. The shadow walks to the end of the corridor, where an imposing door awaits him.
It mimics opening the doors but passes through them without moving them. Ethan follows it and pushes on the doors. He can feel them move, but they resist him. He opens his status once more and allocates his three new characteristic points to strength.
His muscles tingle and heat up, but they don''t grow bigger. He pushes once more, and the doors give way, his body simultaneously reminding him of his damaged back. Wondering, he closes his eyes and realizes that Ether has found its way through his veins, settling into his muscles, tendons, and bones.
The doors open onto a balcony that overlooks a vast pit, plunging deep into the darkness below. On the side, a precarious elevator made of ropes and pulleys waits to descend into the pit.
Below, an enormous obsidian stone dominates the scene. Its surface is marred by a glowing red scar, an ominous mark that pulsates faintly. The light from the scar illuminates the pit in eerie, shifting patterns that dance across the walls.
The walls are charred and blackened, as if a blast of fire engulfed them. Scattered around the pit are remnants of imposing chains still embedded in the walls. Burnt parchments and broken lanterns hang from them.
The watcher''s shadow falls to its knees, despair clear in its form despite the inexpressive armor. Ethan approaches, he guesses, "She said that souls who hold regrets have a hard time crossing to their next destination. Were you supposed to prevent what happened in this place?" The armor stays silent, ignoring Ethan.
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Ethan checks the pit with predator''s sight. A dozen corpses lie at the bottom, but none as imposing as the enemy he almost died to.
He approaches the elevator, testing the ropes with a pull. He finds them surprisingly sturdy for their aging appearance. He steps onto the platform and pulls an imposing lever waiting on the side. The elevator creaks downward, its descent sending echoes up the shaft like whispers from the depths.
The descent into the pit is slow, giving Ethan time to recheck his gear and weapons. The red light grows larger and more menacing as he approaches.
The elevator grinds to a halt, and Ethan steps off onto the cavernous floor. Before him stretches the immense obsidian stone, towering fifteen meters high. Its surface is sleek yet deeply scarred by the red fissure.
Around the base of the stone, Ethan finds the corpses of twelve figures. Five of the bodies are dressed in the charred remnants of what appear to be priestly robes. Each priest''s hands are clasped around a symbol that survived the devastation, glinting in the red light.
The remaining seven are armored knights, each bearing markings identical to the priests'' trinkets. The crimson crystal colonized their bodies. Ethan steps closer to examine one of the knights, noting the way their armors fused in some places and melted under intense heat.
''The blast emanated from a point a few meters in front of the stone,'' he thinks. As he absorbs the scene, Ethan''s attention is drawn back to the stone. The red scar throbs more intensely. A blast of Ether emanates from the stone, lighting up the crystals.
The corpses rise to their feet, some with more pain than others due to their melted armor. Ether gathers around the priests, and Ethan shoots each of them. The first four fall back to the ground, their heads turned to dust. The fifth priest conjures a golden shield that deflects the bullet.
The knights charge at Ethan, who drops his rifle for his Starfell sword. His blade slashes the first man''s arm at the shoulder, disarming him. As he engages with the second, he sees the priest cast a spell. Tendrils of ether shoot at the wounded knight, and his arm grows back in an instant.
Ethan grabs his opponent by the armor and runs forward. His strength became inhuman, and with it, he slams the knight onto the priest''s shield. The knight''s chest collapses under the violence of the impact. Ethan tosses him away and slashes at the shield, to no avail.
The priest extends a hand, and golden flames form in his palm. Ethan jumps backward, dodging a stream of fire. A knight arrives at his side, and Ethan deflects his attack before decapitating his opponent. As the fire comes back to him, Ethan drops his sword and uses the knight''s corpse to shield himself. The crimson crystals growing on Ethan''s improvised shield turn to dust at the mere touch of those flames.
''You didn''t heal the other priests. You cannot resurrect them if I destroy their heads,'' Ethan thinks. He hurls the corpse at the priest, blocking the fire long enough to move away.
Reaching another knight, he locks his right arm under his left arm pit. ''Piercing shot,'' Ethan thinks as he shoots his Glock between the joints of the knight''s helmet.
Ethan pulls out the Abyss watcher''s long sword and parries the knight whose arm is exposed. He swiftly drops a grenade into his chest plate through the shoulder''s opening and kicks him to another knight. The explosion blasts away the armor and makes them both fall on their backs.
Jumping at them Ethan uses the occasion to pierce both their skulls as the priest releases a spell to heal them. His spell fails as they lay immobile on the ground.
The three remaining knights charge in formation, emitting an inhuman guttural war cry. A few seconds away from them, Ethan closes his eyes and casts debilitating hex. As the dark smoke of his spell sips into their bodies, they tumble and fall to his feet under the weight of their armor.
With three thrusts, he ends their simulacra of life. Returning his attention to the priest, he sees him restoring the knight with a crushed chest plate. That last knight takes a single step before falling back to the ground, killed by his own armor.
The priest''s shield fades slightly, and Ethan aims his pistol at his head. "I am lucky I killed your four friends immediately; I don''t think I would have won otherwise," Ethan praises. The shield disappears, and with a single shot, the priest''s dried head scatters away.
Ethan grabs his Starfell Kingdom sword at the feet of the priest. A green light emerges from it, forming a wandering soul. "You have regrets too, don¡¯t you?" Ethan says stashing, his swords into the haversack.
The soul turns to Ethan. To his surprise, it locks its gaze into his. The soul turns to mist, and before Ethan could react, it burrows itself into his mind.
Chapter 20: Testament
Ethan opens his eyes to find himself in a temple, unable to move or speak. The temple''s architecture is a stunning display of mythological proportions. Massive pillars carved from luminous marble rise into the heights of an intricately painted ceiling. Scenes of celestial beings and divine acts are depicted in a palette of gold, azure, and ivory. The pillars are adorned with golden filigrees, small altars holding golden flames placed at their feet.
The central aisle is a river of pristine stone that leads to a grand altar. The altar itself is a masterpiece, carved from a single block of shimmering alabaster. Ethan cannot stop himself from marveling at the sight, despite his complete disinterest in architecture and religion.
Upon the altar rests the symbol of the god of light. A magnificent sunburst crafted from gold and gem insets that reflect light in golden beams. ''How do I know this is the symbol of Seraphel?'' Ethan wonders. Above the altar rests a colossal stained glass, depicting the god of light in resplendent glory. Rays of the rising sun cross through his hands.
Despite the overwhelming beauty and peaceful aura, there''s a palpable tension in the air. Priests are discussing in hushed whispers so as not to be heard by others.
The Archpriest emerges from behind the altar. Clad in resplendent robes that shimmer with threads of gold and silver, he carries an aura of authority. His gaze meets Ethan''s, and with a subtle, imperative gesture, he motions for Ethan to approach the altar.
Ethan finds his body responding to the command independently of his own will. His steps are measured and precise, almost ritualistic.
As he approaches, the Archpriest''s expression is unreadable, his features set in solemn lines. Without any introduction, he speaks, his voice resonating with a profound depth. "You have been selected to undertake our annual pilgrimage to the Abyssal Keep. Along with your retinue, you will be entrusted with the Etherlight Crucible. I trust you comprehend its significance and will value it above even your own life."
The world fades around Ethan to turn into a scene of a solemn procession. In its heart, the Etherlight Crucible is being carried on a moving altar. The Crucible itself is a remarkable artifact, a container made of crystalline material that glows with an internal light. Its structure is orb-like, encased in a framework of gold that spirals around it like a cage.
Surrounding the moving altar, a retinue of knights forms an escort. These are the knights Ethan had previously encountered and defeated.
The scene blurs once more and is replaced by a ritual conducted in the depths of the abyssal keep. The Crucible, placed at the center of a circle on a raised dais, emits a soft yet powerful light that illuminates the faces of the participants.
The five priests, including Ethan''s point of view, cast a common spell intended to restore the seal placed upon the stone. Their voices create a resonant, ethereal chant. As they chant, they extend their hands over the Etherlight Crucible, drawing upon its vast reservoir of light ether.
A blade emerges from Ethan''s abdomen. From the shadows of the chamber, multiple hooded figures appear as if materializing from thin air. Each of them brandishes a long, dark sword that seems to absorb light.
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In a matter of seconds, the figures close in on the priests. The hooded opponents strike them down, their surprised gasps echoing through the pit. One of the figures lifts the Etherlight Crucible before vanishing without a trace along with his accomplices.
The knights reach the dying priests, pulling out potions from their satchels. The obsidian stone cracks open, expelling a crimson smoke from which a humanoid figure forms, unfurling wings. Smoke hides its features, but it pronounces a single word, casting a blast of fire that swallows everything.
Ethan finds himself standing in the domain of the goddess of death. Raising his gaze to her throne, he sees her holding the soul of the priest in her arms. "Am I dead?" Ethan asks, his throat tightening.
"Not yet," she reassures. Her voice isn''t as soft as previously, as if anger were simmering behind her mask. "This one gave away the last of his will to share a vision of his memories. His sacrifice rendered him too weak to cross to the other side, and soon he will cease to be."
Ethan hesitates, choosing his words carefully. "What he wanted me to see is clear in my mind. But I don''t know enough to even begin to think about finding the Etherlight Crucible. And I am convinced that the church of Seraphel was already warned," he finally says.
The soul of the priest shatters in a mist of green fragments, vanishing in the air. She climbs down from her throne to meet Ethan''s level. "He made you a great gift and placed all his hopes in you. ¡ This exceeds your current abilities, but in time you''ll be able to repay him," she says.
Ethan''s vision darkens as he feels Russ tongue licking his face.
"Adding the Language (Eldorian) skill. Based on Maelor Halvern experience a level of 90 has been applied."
"Adding the Theology skill. Based on Maelor Halvern experience a level of 79 has been applied."
"Based on Maelor Halvern experience, Ether manipulation has been raised to a level of 51."
"You learned the Shield spell. You learned the Purifying flame spell. You learned the Heal spell. You learned the Regrowth spell."
"You leveled up."
"You obtained the Dungeon conqueror (D) title. Extra rewards have been granted."
"You obtained the First dungeon conqueror (D) title. Extra rewards have been granted."
The announcements follow one another in overwhelming quantity. Specter nine asks something during them, forcing Ethan to say, "What?"
"Are you wounded?!" Kyle asks, yelling as if Ethan had become deaf.
Ethan rises to his feet and answers, "I''m fine, you?"
"I had to fight a few more to come down, but nothing as bad as our impaled friend," Kyle explains. He approaches a pile of items that appeared alongside Ethan.
Ethan takes his time scratching Russ'' side before looking at the open windows floating around him.
Abyssal keep (D)
Return stone
Ring of aura manipulation
Light ether crystal (x7)
Demonic ether crystal (x10)
Gold coin (x3)
Earing of nyctalopia
Ability book: Identification (E)
Ability book: Insight (E)
Abyss watcher lantern
--- Extra rewards ---
Ability book: Growth (F)
Ability book: Divination (F)
Spell book: Silence
Necklace of magic resistance
--- Extra rewards ---
Characteristic point (x5)
Dungeon stone: The Abyss (S)
The dropped abyss watcher lantern glows with a golden hue. Ethan senses a feeling of relief and lightness. He checks his status and sees that the demonic corruption has vanished. Checking Russ''s, he sees that his friend also obtained five characteristic points.
"We''ll divide later," Kyle says, his gaze filled with uncertainty as he visibly tries to gauge the value of each item. "Do you want to keep exploring? The keep has a lot of buildings; I think I even saw a temple in one of the corners."
Ethan quickly gathers the loot into his haversack. "We should go. I don''t know how long this lantern will last. And I''m not sure that we can refill it with the light Ether crystals," he says, holding a return stone in his hand.
"Well, let''s hope Ghaya went away while we were here," Kyle says as the light engulfs them.
Chapter 21: Two souls in one head
Russ by his side, barely held by a leash stashed in the pocket of his jogging pants, Ethan runs through the Champs de Mars. It has been a week since monsters invaded, but to Ethan, the last five days were nothing but a blur.
As soon as he closes his eyes, he dreams of places and people he has never met in a world that is not his. His inner voice even transitions to Eldorian instead of the usual English or French.
They pass a beggar sitting under the shade of a tree, and Ethan stops, checking his pockets for a coin. ''What am I doing?!'' he yells in his mind. He had never given to charity or even cared for the suffering of others. Yet here he was, instinctively empathizing with the man. ''Great gift, my ass,'' Ethan says to himself as he resumes his run.
Very few people are present in the park, and those who are look around erratically. ''They fear a monster could appear from anywhere,'' Ethan guesses, as he had seen this look before. ''When?'' he says to himself, trying to recall ever seeing that look.
His mind takes him to the fragmented memory of a hospice where he healed knights who were attacked by a Behir. ''Not me, not my memory,'' he thinks, narrowly avoiding a daydreaming walker.
Trying to stop thinking, he sees a woman holding a stack of documents, yelling on the phone. He hides his eyes behind a pair of sunglasses and uses predator''s sight to eavesdrop.
"Yes, I understand that everyone is under a lot of stress, but this is still a business," she snaps into the phone, her voice brittle with tension. "We can''t just stop because of a few... incidents. We need those reports by tomorrow!"
A man responds on the other end with exasperation and fatigue in his tone. "Look, I can''t just ¨C"
Her grip tightens around the stack of papers. "I know it''s hard, but we lost Martin and Elise last week, and their work isn''t going to finish itself. We''re all picking up extra slack here. Make it happen!" With a frustrated sigh, she ends the call and starts shuffling through the documents.
His senses make him acutely aware of the emotion swirling in her. Overwhelming stress, a hint of desperation, and piercing loneliness.
Continuing his run, Ethan''s attention is soon captured by the sound of heavy objects being moved. The distinct noise of wooden planks being hammered into place echoes from a second-floor apartment. A middle-aged man is fortifying his home a few hundred meters away.
A detonation, muffled by a silencer, comes from a basement. A group of soldiers is cleaning up a kobold nest. The government prohibited civilians from hunting monsters themselves and formed units dedicated to their eradication. Usually it goes silent, but sometimes you can hear helicopters using thirty-millimeters canons inside the city.
The engine of a lightly armored vehicle reaches Ethan''s ears from the bottom of the Eiffel Tower. Its forty-millimeter autocannon is enough to kill the wyverns that invaded the skies. Many of these vehicles, known as JAGUARs, watch over the main crossroads, institutions, and monuments of the city.
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A crowd of rioters is assembling at the Trocadero, protesting the use of emergency powers by the government to issue laws and decrees. The most controversial is the obligation to present your status to law enforcement upon request. The police conduct random checks on anyone perceived to possess abilities above the norm. Furthermore, entry into nearly all public spaces is now contingent upon the presentation of one''s status.
''I need to raise the rank of anonymity,'' Ethan thinks. Tombstone warned him that many countries around the world use those controls to forcibly recruit powerful individuals into their ranks.
A whistle pierces Ethan''s ears. He turns around to see a cop gesturing for him to stop. He jogs towards Ethan, a Benelli M4 slapping against his plate carrier. "Do you know how fast you were going?" the cop asks, his tone authoritative and unfriendly.
Russ growls at the aggressive cop. ''Leave it,'' Ethan thinks before saying, "Am I getting a speeding ticket?"
"ID and status, and tell me why he isn''t in a muzzle," the cop orders.
Russ growls again as the cop''s tone and posture become more aggressive. His fur shivers as he triggers his newly acquired growth ability. Before the cop can notice, Ethan orders, "Leave it, down." Russ obeys, turning his gaze to a flock of pigeons eating breadcrumbs.
"Malinois are not categorized in France; only Rottweilers, Pitbulls, and associated dogs need to wear a muzzle," Ethan explains in a calm tone as he pulls out his false passport. "Status," he says, triggering Anonymity at the same time.
"Twenty strength at level three; you must be addicted to the gym." The cop notes, typing something on his phone.
"Five days a week, sometimes twice a day," Ethan confirms.
"You can go; keep your speed down. I don''t want you slamming into a kid at thirty per hour."
"I will, good day officer," Ethan says, tossing a treat at Russ, who catches it midflight.
As Ethan turns around to resume his jogging, he almost collides with a giant. The man''s thick black beard and long hair throw Ethan into another of Maleor''s memories. He''s in a crowd, waiting for his king to begin a speech. The regent appears on a balcony, his long, curly black hair topped with an imposing crown of gold and rubies. The memory continues for a few long seconds, but Ethan hears none of his speech as anger and incomprehension fill his mind.
The memory morphs into the present, and time stutters as Ethan moves away from the central alleys. The noises around him fade into a muted backdrop. A suffocating pressure builds in his chest, his heart pounding fiercely against his ribs. His vision narrows as images of the king flash before his eyes. Images come not from Maleor''s memory but from his own, from a time when he was a child.
Ethan''s breath comes in sharp, jagged gasps, each one a struggle, as if the air around him had thickened. His entire body trembles and shivers beyond his control. The memory of his childhood home, grand and imposing, engulfed in flames, fills his mind.
He remembers the man discussing with his father; their conversation muffled through the thick walls of the mansion. Their conversation ended abruptly with the sharp, unmistakable crack of gunfire. Ethan only caught a glimpse of the man as he exited his father''s room, hidden in a cabinet. The mansion burned down that night, the fire emerging from Ethan''s father''s desk room.
This man is the reason Ethan joined N.E.S.T, to hunt him down. Amidst the overwhelming flood of memories and emotions, Russ suddenly headbutts Ethan on the chin. The sharp pain snaps Ethan out of his spiraling panic, anchoring him back to reality. As Ethan sits to catch his breath, Russ whines worriedly at his feet, looking up at him with concerned eyes.
Finally calming down, Ethan pulls out his phone and calls Tombstone.
"Welcome back, Reaper five," she says in her usual tone.
Ethan hesitates for a second and says, "I need to fly to England."
Chapter 22: Past
The roads of the Cotswolds are quiet, nearly deserted. The rural villages are silent, and Ethan senses their sparse population. ''Older folks live here. They likely suffered more from the monsters than the big cities,'' Ethan thinks.
As Ethan leaves the last village on his route, Russ sticks his head out of the car window, his tongue flapping in the breeze. The area becomes devoid of human activity, except for the road. After half an hour, the road leads to the open gate of a mansion.
Another car is parked in the gravel driveway. ''I hope I can convince the new owner to let me in,'' Ethan thinks as he drives through the gate. ''He has restored it well; it looks just like I remember.''
Ethan exits his car and opens the door for Russ to stretch his legs. Russ immediately starts sniffing around, following a scent to the other car. He excitedly sprints around the car, his tail wagging as he explores.
Russ dashes from the car towards the mansion, and Ethan follows. Through predator''s sight he sees a woman in one of the basements, which he recalls as the heating room. As she opens the door leading outside, Russ jumps on her to lick her face, overwhelmed with excitement.
Tombstone is in her early thirties, with a few brown strands falling from her hair bun, complementing her thin oval glasses. "Hi, yes, I''m happy to see you too," she says to Russ. She meets Ethan''s gaze and asks with genuine concern, "Are you blushing?"
Ethan quickly regains his composure. ''Was the priest on a celibate vow?'' he grunts in his mind. "It''s cold," he lies. "What are you doing here?"
"When you asked for a flight without much explanation, I knew this is where you were headed," she replies, still petting Russ.
"How did you get the keys?" Ethan asks, unable to sense another human in the building.
"Well, ¡ N.E.S.T bought the mansion after your father''s death and restored it. This is still yours, as it was intended," she explains, handing him the keys. Her voice quickens as she adds, "Well, in reality, it belongs to a shell company, under the cover of a non-profit aiming to restore English monuments, owned by a holding in a country that allows for ultimate beneficial ownership, and so on."
"I don''t know what to think about that," Ethan admits. "Thanks."
"Do you want to go inside?" she asks as Russ finally leaves her to sniff flowers.
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Ethan moves to the main entrance, whose opaque green glass and golden rims remain identical to his memories. He unlocks the door, takes a deep breath, and steps inside.
Tombstone follows and looks around. "What are you looking for?"
"When I was in the dungeon with Specter nine, I came across a lost soul who shared some of his memories with me." He pauses, seeing Tombstone''s puzzled look. "I had a flashback where the man who killed my father stood before a crowd. He was giving a speech, as their king."
"Deception leveled up."
"Even if that memory were real, it couldn''t be the same person. Maybe he just resembles him; your mind might be altering the image," she suggests.
"I just needed to be sure. After all this time with no leads, I couldn''t let go of even the slightest chance of finding him," Ethan says, his voice measured to hide his frustration. The mere thought of the man fills him with anger. "And now I am," he says, stopping before one of the basement doors. Wisps of Ether seep through its cracks.
"What do you mean?" Tombstone asks.
"You can''t see it? What''s your level of Ether manipulation?" Ethan asks.
"Huh, skills," she says before checking the list appearing in front of her. "Two."
Ethan turns to her, using the distraction to calm himself. "Close your eyes," he instructs, removing the ring of aura manipulation from his finger.
She immediately closes her eyes. "No funny business," she warns playfully.
"Save your comments for six," Ethan jests. He places his hand a few centimeters away from her face, his fingers spread wide. Visualizing it in his mind, he guides Ether from his heart to the tip of his fingers. He explains, "Our world hardly contains any Ether, but on the other side, it''s omnipresent, floating in the air. Sensing Ether isn''t one of our usual senses, and it starts with a shiver when it''s first drawn to you."
Ether flows from Ethan''s hand, brushing past Tombstone''s skin. She resists stepping back. "I see it. ¡ It''s moving toward my heart," she says, astonished.
Ethan cuts off the flow. "I''ve stopped controlling it. Imagine it moving to your heart; guide it there," he advises.
Tombstone grins, mimicking an effort. Moments later, she exclaims, "I did it!" Opening her eyes, she confirms, "And it''s now level eight."
Ethan pulls out a light Ether crystal from his haversack. "The Ether you just experienced is ¡ neutral. It can be used to fuel abilities and cast spells. But some spells require, or profit from, a different form of Ether," he tries to explain. Breaking the crystal, he releases threads of golden Ether before manipulating them to gather in his hand. "Try to absorb this Ether."
She executes his request and slowly succeeds in absorbing the Ether. As the light Ether gathers in her heart, a small cat claw scar vanishes from her cheek. She touches it before checking with her phone''s camera.
"When corrupted with light Ether, you''ll heal from injuries your body can''t normally handle. Like scars, cancer, a compressed vertebra, or a severed hamstring," Ethan explains, "but the effect is temporary."
"I think I can see it now; it''s coming from behind that door. And I can sense a lot of Ether in you. But wasn''t that precious?" she asks, mixing concern with her words.
"I have five more; don''t worry about that," Ethan assures her as he places his ring of aura manipulation to conceal his Ether. His heartbeat rises as he returns to the present, his attention falling once more on the door.
Chapter 23: Past - Part 2
The door to the basement groans on its rusted hinges as Ethan pushes it open. A musty, dense aroma wafts through the opening, reminiscent of old wood. As they descend the stone steps, the faint glow of overhead bulbs reveals a traditional wine cellar. Rows of wooden shelves line the walls, each laden with bottles covered in a layer of dust. Cobwebs lace the corners of the ceiling.
"Some of those are older than my parents," Tombstone says as she dusts off a bottle''s label. "Too bad they probably turned by now."
Ethan glances at the racks. "Take those you want; maybe you''ll get lucky," he offers. His attention is drawn to one of the walls where Ether sips out. He notices a faint misalignment on one of the wall''s stones. He presses against the stone, which yields slightly under his touch.
With a low click, a part of the wall slowly swings open. A narrow passageway appears, cloaked in shadows. The air is cooler and even damper than in the cellar. Tombstone, still holding a dusty bottle, peers into the dark corridor with curiosity. "That wasn''t on the blueprints."
Ethan flicks a switch at the corridor''s entrance, lighting up a series of wall lamps. Threads of Ether pour into the wine cellar. As Ethan and Tombstone venture further, the passageway opens into a broader chamber.
This room, unlike the dusty wine cellar, is meticulously organized and illuminated by an array of soft lights hanging from the ceiling. Shelves and display cases are filled with artifacts emitting Ether. A trio of small glowing orbs dance slowly, levitating in a glass cube. Ancient tomes with Eldorian titles sit on shelves, bound in unfamiliar materials that shimmer under the light.
Tombstone steps forward, her eyes wide with awe. "What is all of this?" she whispers, her hand hovering over a device that resembles a compass but with symbols that flicker and change.
Ethan moves to a display case holding a series of small, crystalline structures that pulse with inner lights. "My father was always on a journey, searching for forgotten places, objects, and civilizations. There are several rooms dedicated to his archeology findings in this mansion, and he gifted many pieces to museums. I doubt he knew about the other world, magic, and monsters. But at the very least, he understood that those objects were different," he says. His voice trails off as he speaks of his father. His hand rests lightly on the glass of the display case, and for a moment, he''s lost in another time.
"Are you okay?" Tombstone asks, reaching for his shoulder.
"Most of what I know about him comes from his journals and the stories I have been told." He pauses, his eyes scanning the room. "He was incredibly strong, both mentally and physically. When I heard tales of him standing alone against entire bands of mercenaries in some remote corner of the globe, it was hard to reconcile with the way he died."
Russ whines repeatedly as he turns around the two of them, worried for Ethan. He places his paws on the glass casing, trying to get closer.
"We still only know very little about your dad''s killer. But for what we do know, he was a real monster," Tombstone begins. "Him and his group slaughtered countless soldiers and civilians. He pillaged Africa, South America, and the Middle East for years, making a fortune from warlords."
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"And yet he stopped and disappeared right after coming here," Ethan says as his gaze falls on an opened case. It is empty, but its velvet still holds the shape of a disk. The dust lying on it reveals that it has been empty for years.
"We never understood why he met your father. But do you think he may have wanted an item from him? Something he was the only one capable of using?" Tombstone wonders.
Ethan spots a small carnet among the Eldorian tomes; he reaches for it, dusting it off with a flick. "This is one of his journals," Ethan says as he opens it.
The pages contain several pages of notes, followed by drawings of his findings.
September 14, 1995, Siberia
The winds here are chilling. Local lore speaks of the man I am searching for, unaged and untouched by time. Villagers give him several names, but their descriptions are consistent. The oldest among them saw him for decades.
September 16, 1995
I trekked deeper into Siberia, guided by an old map I acquired from one of the villages. The map hints at a valley surrounded by mountains where he''s said to live. My compass behaves oddly in this area, the needle spins wildly. Dmitri was killed by a leopard, I buried him under an orthodox cross.
September 20, 1995
I reached the valley at dawn. It is warmer here, enough for the valley to not be buried under snow. I found ruins, medieval in nature but visibly older. People live here, but they speak a language unknown to me.
September 23, 1995
I saved one of the inhabitants from a bear, a young man who''s in his late teens. He guided me to his people, and I think he introduced me. Their language doesn''t have any roots I can base it on.
September 24, 1995
I found an old Russian man who lives among them. He told me that they kept him fed and sheltered and gave him work fit for his imposing stature until his back gave up. They take care of him, but they forbid him from leaving. They also age slower than him; some of the children he met when arriving forty years ago are still young adults. I tried to leave, but they stopped me. They use spears and bows and seem to be ignorant of the dangers of my 1911.
October 1, 1995
Soviet helicopters flew into the valley, terrifying the villagers. I used the occasion to escape and followed them to a keep in the mountains.
October 2, 1995
The keep is an ancient structure. Its walls are broad, made of stone blocks too massive for medieval technologies. Gunfire echoes in the corridors; they are fighting the locals.
October 2, 1995
I was wrong, they are not fighting the locals. Armored humanoid puppets engage them with swords, shields, and spears. They require hundreds of rounds to put down. The mercenaries are speaking Russian. They are searching for a treasure.
October 2, 1995
I found what they are likely searching for. A chamber in the depths of the keep, rendered inaccessible by a collapsed bridge. I had to climb cavern walls to reach it. I took everything it contained, including a portrait of the man I was looking for. I have decided to keep his belongings safe until I find him or he finds me.
The later pages catalog every artifact found in the room, except for a disk adorned with crystals. Ethan looks up and sees a painted portrait of a blonde, muscular man draped in a regal ermine mantle.
"If this man is still alive, he might have answers for you," Tombstone says.
Ethan thinks for a moment. "If he comes from the other world, he might already be gone. He only needs a dungeon crystal," he says as he takes a picture of the portrait. "That might be farfetched, but could you run his picture for me?"
"Sure. I will start the search right away; I just need to get to my car," she says before leaving him alone with Russ.
Ethan looks around, thinking aloud, "I''m going to uphold my father''s decision and keep your belongings for you. I hope you''ll be grateful if we ever meet." With a final glance at the portrait, he leaves the room, closing the hidden passage behind him.
Chapter 24: Past - Part 3
Ethan pushes the door to the main living room. Ten stools sit along the marble countertop of a bar, with dozens of bottles on its glass shelves.
An imposing Grotian piano sits in the center, atop a slightly elevated platform. Ethan pours himself an Aberfeldy Whisky before sitting at the piano.
He passes his finger under the keyboard, and the missing scratch he remembers causing confirms that it''s a replacement. Setting his drink on top of the instrument, he tries out a few keys, accessing the piano''s tune.
"Adding the Entertainment (Piano) skill. Based on your previous experience a level of 46 has been applied."
Settled on the velvet piano bench, he begins to play Gymnop¨¦die No. 1, whose languid notes float in the spacious room.
The soft, melancholic melody of the piano piece eases his thoughts. Ethan''s mind drifts to moments of Maelor''s early life, in a town edging a vast forest. His father was the local blacksmith, and his mother was an herbalist.
As Ethan plays, his mind wanders further into Maelor''s past. He envisions the village on a day that started like any other. Maelor was helping his father in the late evening. His mother was tending to their garden, planting a new variety of plants.
Suddenly, chaos erupted. From the depths of the woods emerged a creature of nightmares, an enormous feline beast with six muscular legs and writhing tendrils. Its gaping maw spewed torrents of fire, setting the village and the woods ablaze.
The village was thrown into panic. Men, women, and children scrambled for safety, their screams muffled by the roar of the flames. Maelor''s father grabbed a sword from his forge, charging at the beast with three others.
Ethan experiences the fear that gripped Maelor as he witnessed a sea of fire engulf his father. All those who faced the beast were turned to ash. The creature''s wide tendrils swept through Maelor''s home, slashing his mother''s stomach. She grabbed him and ran out of the town, collapsing as they passed its gates.
Maelor could only watch in horror as his village was consumed in fire and chaos, his mother''s blood covering his hands and clothes.
As the final, lingering notes of the piece fade into silence, Ethan feels a tear descending along his face. He wipes it as Russ looks at him with worry. "I am almost certain this is the first time in twenty years," Ethan says to Russ.
His gaze falls onto the bar''s mirror, where he sees a reflection of Maelor. He blinks and sees himself sitting before the piano. "How do I get rid of you?" he mutters before sipping his drink.
Tombstone enters the living room, a laptop in hand. She takes a TV remote from a shelf and turns on a flat screen above the bar. Onscreen, a special news broadcast shows Wakefield Prison in total disarray. "Well, that lasted for a week," Tombstone remarks, her voice dripping with irony.
"What lasted for a week?" Ethan inquires, standing up to join her near the TV.
Tombstone fills a glass with the liquor Ethan left out on the counter. "States have been desperate to maintain control over their criminals. After the police and military, they''re the ones who''ve gained the most from the system."
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"And now they believe they''re above the law, acting on their own accord," Ethan deduces. "We''re facing a new breed of powerful individuals that states will struggle to handle. It looks like business will be booming," he adds with a laugh.
"Beside you and a few others, our assets are lagging behind. Some are even Villagers" Tombstone admits reluctantly.
''We could throw them in a few dungeons,'' Ethan ponders silently. "Did any of them find stones like this one?" he asks, holding the Abyss dungeon stone.
Tombstone examines the stone, then opens her laptop to check some reports. "We''ve had a few sightings, but no one has managed to secure one."
"In three monster encounters, I''ve found two dungeon stones. If a civilian used one during the initial incursions, chances are they didn''t survive. However, if I were a government, I''d be gathering as many as possible to strengthen my forces," Ethan theorizes.
"Incursions?" she asks.
Ethan slightly rolls his eyes, explaining, "That¡¯s how the system called it."
"Proposing to steal some dungeon stones?" Tombstone asks, already sifting through documents stamped by various police departments without waiting for an answer.
Meanwhile, Ethan begins scouring the internet for anyone selling or buying such items. The online marketplaces are buzzing with trades of weapons and trophies harvested from the monsters. Prices range from a few tens of dollars for the teeth of a minor lizard creature to several million for the preserved body of a griffin.
"I''ve got something," Tombstone announces, pointing to a dark web listing where someone is offering dungeon stones alongside monster parts. "The seller claims to have dozens of each item," she remarks while beginning to sift through leaked databases for any details on the poster.
Ethan watches, bewildered, as Tombstone rapidly toggles between data dumps and her own custom scripts. She opens the employer file of a cash-in-transit worker stationed in London and explains, "This is our seller. He has a few crypto wallets, some of which recently received a hundred thousand pounds."
"What are the odds that the government uses Crown Secure Transit to transport those items around?" Ethan asks rhetorically.
Tombstone simultaneously monitors multiple sped-up camera feeds, observing their armored trucks. "Quite high," she notes. "They frequently stop at police stations rather than banks." Turning to Ethan, she adds, "But targeting their main depot would be extremely risky."
"I doubt this is their final destination. Check if any trucks are heading from their depot towards Stirling Lines or other military bases," Ethan suggests.
"A few have left in the past several days, each escorted by two trucks," she confirms, displaying a photo of an armored truck flanked by two Land Rover Wolfs. "I''ll need to discuss this with the higher-ups," she states as she closes her laptop.
As she stands to leave the room, she briefly bites her lip, a fleeting gesture that doesn''t go unnoticed. Russ tilts his head slightly, sensing something amiss. Concerned, Ethan activates his predator''s sight, immediately sensing her accelerated heartbeat. After deactivating the ability, he meets her gaze, silently prompting her to speak. Regaining her composure, she musters a cheerful tone. "Goodbye," she says before exiting the room.
Hearing her car drive away, Ethan ponders what was on her mind. Finishing his drink, he exits the mansion for its garden, where he finds the familial cemetery.
Passing the tombs of ancestors he never met, he finally reaches the last three. He pauses at the one bearing his father''s name. "I still haven''t avenged you. But I''m getting closer. Actually, I should say I''ve finally obtained the first piece of the puzzle," he says, his voice low and resolute.
He shifts his gaze to the next stones, the ones for his mother and himself, who share death and birth dates. His heart tightens. "I never got to know you, but I often find myself wondering what my life would have been like if I had the chance."
He gazes at the date etched on his own tombstone, marking a death that supposedly occurred two decades earlier. "You are not fully mistaken," he murmurs to the stone before turning to explore the rest of the mansion.
Chapter 25: Heist
Ethan''s car glides silently to a stop in the shadow of a dilapidated warehouse. The area is desolate, punctuated by the echoes of distant machinery. Twilight casts long shadows across the graffiti-covered walls.
The warehouse''s once robust structure succumbed to rust and decay. Broken windows punctuate the upper levels, and fences topped with barbed wires encircle the property. A gate hangs slightly ajar, squeaking as a mild breeze nudges it back and forth.
Ethan remains in his car for a moment, surveying the scene. The street is lined with other similarly weathered buildings. A few abandoned vehicles are scattered around, their tires flat and their bodies painted by urban artists. A gray fret truck is parked along the building in a near impeccable state.
According to Tombstone''s information, this is the spot where a group of cash-in-transit thieves met to plan their heists and share their spoils. She contacted them with the information on the transport, making it an unmissable opportunity while threatening them with tons of proof of their activities. They agreed for Ethan to be their point of contact and the one who would take Tombstone''s share.
Using predator''s sight, Ethan detects four individuals inside the warehouse: three men and one woman. He also senses the residual heat from three car engines that were recently parked inside.
Stepping out of his vehicle, Ethan cautiously approaches the squeaking gate, pushing it open just enough to slip through. As he moves stealthily across the concrete ground, he scans the perimeters for any sign of life.
The air is thick with the scent of metal and old oil. As Ethan nears the entrance, the faint sounds of conversation reach his ears.
One of the men is yelling, "Fuck that cunt, can''t we just hide for a month or two?! With how fucked up the world is getting, cops won''t care about us."
"She knows about our hiding places, and she has all of our bank accounts. She can destroy our lives with a single email," another grumbles.
The woman chimes in, "I''m more worried about how we are going to sell. Those items are worth way more than the cash they usually transport, but who will buy them?"
Ethan takes a moment to center himself, planning his entrance. Pushing the door open with careful precision, Ethan steps into the dimly lit interior. The warehouse is vast, with a high ceiling supported by exposed steel beams. The four of them are gathered around an old, makeshift wooden table cluttered with maps and numeric devices.
Ethan''s attention is quickly drawn to a section where cars are parked. Their conversation pauses as one of the thieves follows Ethan''s gaze and grins. Three still warm, unassuming vehicles hide many high-end modifications behind tinted windows.
The first is a common sedan, with its structure reinforced by steel rods and its body armored with steel plates on the inside. The windows are made of polycarbonate, bullet-resistant glass. The tires are a puncture-proof brand capable of handling racing track-like accelerations. The hood has been slightly elevated to fit a powerful engine.
Beside it sits a typical family SUV secretly outfitted with a complex ensemble of electronic devices, antennas, and hidden road trap dispensers.
The third vehicle, a nondescript van, might be the most modified of all. Its interior has been stripped and refitted with armored panels. The back shelters a mounted M2 Browning and what appears to be a harpoon. Its structure has been reinforced with sturdy and heavy steel beams, a titanic engine, and powerful suspensions.
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Ethan cancels predator''s sight before turning to the crew of thieves. Each member of this small group has an evidently distinct role, as reflected in their appearance.
The first man has a disciplined posture and a short, precise blond haircut that hints at a military past. His body is trained to its utmost, or maybe it¡¯s the effect of the system. A handgun is well concealed in his pants, hidden by his ample shirt.
Beside him sits another man whose arms and neck are covered in prison tattoos. His long brushed black hair and the tainted glasses clipped to his shirt outline an old-time personality. He''s the one who''s marking down their plan on the maps before them.
The third man contrasts sharply with the other two. His thin body makes him seem miniscule in comparison. His eyes, hidden behind thick-rimmed glasses, avoid Ethan''s gaze. He''s typing on his phone, his free hand frantically clicking a pen.
The woman of the group, with her short-cropped hair and oil-stained overalls, is clearly their mechanic. Her hands are marked with long-healed scars and burns. She exudes a quiet confidence, unfazed by Ethan''s presence.
"James Clarke, ex-Para, wanted for murder. Liam Turner, convicted for burglary, armed robbery, money laundering, and grand theft auto. Oliver Shaw wanted for identity theft, credit card fraud, hacking into financial institutions, and cyber extortion. And Zoe Morgan," Ethan lists to confirm their identities, their expressions hardening with each word.
"What, no crime listing for me?" Zoe says as she approaches.
"I could add all the crimes you share. But no one is accusing you of those," Ethan retorts. "How are the preparations going?"
Liam turns a map towards Ethan and explains, "We have a window when they traverse a tunnel. The problem is their escort; we don''t know how they are equipped or the abilities they have."
"I''m here to handle any elite soldiers we encounter; you focus on the other tasks," Ethan states firmly. The group looks at him with a mix of surprise and skepticism. Demonstrating his capabilities, Ethan utilizes his silent steps, enhanced by his level twenty-three strength and level twenty dexterity. He swiftly moves behind them, his actions too quick for them to react, leaving them visibly bewildered.
Liam taps his pen on the table. "Then we have everything we need. We''ll stop them in the tunnel with the SUV, take out the driver and their guards with tear gas, drag the armored transport inside the truck, and be gone before Stirling Lines sends a helicopter."
"The next transport will depart in three hours; we leave in two," James orders.
The four of them start moving around, preparing their gear, and loading their vehicles. Ethan quickly changes into military gear from his haversack. Liam and James are discussing on the other side of the building, unaware that Ethan is listening.
"We know nothing about him except what the bitch told us. How do we trust this guy to not screw us up?" Liam''s voice is low but tinged with irritation.
James responds with a measured tone, "Look, I get it. But we don''t get to choose here. The moment he walked in, I felt like prey. He''s a monster who has killed many people; I can just feel it."
"And what if he''s playing both sides? What if he''s here to let us do the dirty work and then takes us out to snatch the whole prize?" Liam''s skepticism is palpable in his every word.
Oliver chimes in, having approached quietly. "I''ve tried digging up anything on him, ¡ nothing. He''s a ghost. No social media, no warrants, not even a stray photo online," he reports.
"I''m going to say that it would be a shame if a guard got him. But we could always just hand over the bitch her share and disappear," Liam suggests, the strain clear in his voice as he contemplates their risky predicament.
Zoe brings a radio jammer and a radio to Ethan. "Once this is activated, it''ll block all communications unless you are tuned to a specific frequency," she explains.
Ethan secures the radio and jammer onto his plate carrier, then tests the radio by switching it on to ensure it picks up the static from Zoe''s radio. "All set. I''m guessing you won''t let me drive one of the cars."
"Certainly not," Zoe replies with a smirk before joining the others.
Ethan Reed
Lv.12 (Harbinger) Human
Class change available
Strength: 23 + Charisma: 12 +
Dexterity: 20 + Perception: 16 +
Constitution: 20 + Willpower: 19 +
Intelligence: 20 +
Available characteristic points: 1
Titles
Dungeon conqueror (D)
First dungeon conqueror (D)
Dungeon conqueror (F)
First dungeon conqueror (F)
First hunter
Goblin hunter
Slayer of the first incursion
Kin slayer
Kobold hunter
Skeleton hunter
Abilities
Anonymity (F)
Identification (F)
Insight (E)
Piercing shot (F)
Predator''s sight (E)
Silent steps (F)
Spell casting (F)
Chapter 26: Heist - Part 2
Ethan sits in the passenger seat of the van, driven by James. They parked at a remote corner of a dimly lit gas station, away from the eyes of security cameras. The station''s flickering lights cast long shadows across the dashboard. Liam and Oliver are in the SUV, parked on another corner of the gas station.
James seems calm, his expression stoic as he stares out the windshield, ostensibly scanning the area. However, Ethan can hear the rapid thumping of Jame''s heart. The occasional gust of wind rattles the van slightly, mingling with the distant hum of highway traffic.
James moistens his dried lips before asking, "Where did you serve?"
Ethan raises his head to look at James, surprised by the question. "I''m warning you; don''t try to get information about me," Ethan threatens.
James chuckles nervously, trying to mask his discomfort with a casual demeanor. "Just making conversation, mate. Long waits like these, you know¡ they get to me."
Ethan remains silent, his gaze returning to the window. He watches as a lone moth flutters desperately around the station''s neon sign. A couple is parked in front of the station, fighting as their car''s power steering broke on the highway.
The radio sparks to life. Liam announces, "The target is about to pass the gas station."
They both put on balaclavas. Ethan checks that the M32 grenade launcher they gave him is functioning properly. James starts the van, waiting for the armored transport to pass before joining the highway behind Liam. He hands Ethan a cardboard box filled with hollow caltrops.
"Surveillance cameras are disabled," Oliver says over the radio. James rolls down his window and tosses the caltrops on the road, changing lanes to spread them evenly. Ethan does the same as James returns to the left lane.
Following the convoy from afar, they enter the tunnel. Its construction separates the two highway directions with a thick concrete wall. Zoe''s fret truck is faking an accident inside the tunnel, parked in the emergency lane.
Liam overtakes the convoy, deploying three thick yellow nets to his left. These nets entangle the wheels and transmissions of the targets. The two Land Rovers flip over and land on their roofs, skidding across the asphalt. The armored truck rams into the lead Land Rover, pushing it forcefully to the side of the road before stopping.
Ethan opens his window and shoots three tear gas grenades into each Land Rover. He switches to his SCAR-H and exits the van. Dazed soldiers stagger out of the Land Rovers, yelling, blinded, and disoriented. Ethan shoves the nearest soldier to the ground, forcing his arms behind his back and securing them tightly with ready-to-use zip-tie cuffs. James and Liam imitate him, quickly neutralizing the convoy''s escort.
Liams hammers an improvised device on the armored truck window. It drills through the thick glass, emitting a worrying electronic smoke. The device falls, leaving a hole in which James drops a tear gas grenade.
The drivers open the doors, begging for air as they fall outside. Ethan and Liam quickly secure them with cuffs and drag them to the side.
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James opens the van''s back doors, grabbing a hook attached to a winch. He attaches the armored truck to the van as Liam cuts the net, freeing its front wheels. A harpoon mounted to a tripod on the van''s wall piques Ethan''s curiosity.
A metallic tear jolts them as they watch the front Land Rover back door fly into the tunnel''s ceiling. A leg peeks from the opening, quickly disappearing as a muscular man leaps from inside to the asphalt road.
The man lands with a thud that seems to reverberate through the ground. Standing tall, he exudes an intimidating presence, his uniform bristling with ribbons. His physique is nothing short of colossal, with bulging muscles that strain against the fabric of his uniform. His tag reads, ''M. Striker''
A palpable aura surrounds him, almost visible in the way the air warps and thickens ¨C an aura of Ether that feels suffocating to those nearby. His eyes scan the scene, immediately assessing the situation.
His gaze locks onto Ethan, and a wave of Ether parkours him as a window appears before the soldier. "Colin Braddock, a level ten warrior," the giant says, his voice thundering in the tunnel.
Liam whispers to Ethan, "Your job." He goes to open Zoe''s truck doors as James starts dragging the armored truck.
Ethan lifts his battle rifle and shoots at the enemy''s legs. He disappears with a loud bang, and the asphalt where he stood turns into a small crater. The giant''s hands approach Ethan''s head, ready to clap it into nothingness. Ethan ducks and moves away, dodging the attack.
Each of Striker''s movements sends shockwaves through the tunnel. Striker corners Ethan against the tunnel''s wall, arming another blow. Ethan rolls to the side, the giant''s fist crashing into the tunnel wall, creating a fissure three meters high. Quick to his feet, Ethan lunges forward, drawing his Starfell longsword to slash at his thigh.
The blade creates a sizeable cut, propelling an imposing blood spatter onto the ground. Striker grunts, drawing his pistol to shoot at Ethan. The bullets miss him as he takes shelter behind one of the Land Rovers.
Striker places his hand in an artisanal-looking pouch attached to his belt, pulling out a vial of blue liquid. Aiming his pistol at Ethan''s cover, he uncorks the vial and starts drinking.
Ethan uses the opportunity to restore his Ether and incantate a debilitating hex. The smoke tendrils dig into Striker, and he suddenly gasps for air, suffocated by the effects of the hex.
Striker grabs a soldier''s assault rifle and unloads it towards Ethan. "You are not a Warrior! You''re fast, strong, and you can cast spells ?!" Striker yells.
Ethan pulls out his KS23. Striker''s rifle clicks, indicating his emptiness, and Ethan rises. ''Piercing shot,'' he thinks as he shoots a slug at Striker''s shoulder. The projectile passes through the target, his right arm falling limp to his side. Ethan moves behind the man, placing himself to his right to grab his neck. Using his full strength, Ethan chokes Striker, who falls unconscious after ten seconds.
Ethan passes his hand into Striker''s pouch, thinking of a healing potion. One appears in his hand, and he drops enough in Striker''s mouth for the bleeding to stop. He will need a prosthetic shoulder, but he will live.
Ethan sees Liam going for one of the soldier''s rifles and quickly dashes in front of him, placing his foot on the weapon. "No need to leave your fingerprint on one of their weapons," Ethan says with a threatening tone.
Without a word, Liam enters the SUV driver''s seat as James closes the truck''s back doors. James and Ethan enter the back seats of the SUV, and both vehicles exit the tunnel.
"I''ve disabled the integrated GPS tracker," Oliver confirms as they split from Zoe, who takes the first exit to a primary route. Oliver holds his hand open before James, who gives him a black box with ripped-off cables. He connects it to a homemade circuit board, launching a script on his computer. "And the blackbox is erased," he says before throwing it away.
"What if they put another tracker in the armored truck?" Ethan asks.
Oliver explains, "The container it''s currently transported in blocks any electromagnetic wave. We''ll check it in detail when we arrive." Liam tuts at Oliver, visibly irritated.
Using a convoluted itinerary to avoid any cameras, they slowly make their way back to the warehouse.
Chapter 27: Heist - Part 3
Liam enters the warehouse, parking the SUV in its original spot. The truck is waiting for them in the middle, and Zoe is already swapping plates.
Exiting the car, Oliver grabs an instrument teaming with antennas. He opens the container''s doors, scanning every inch of the armored transport.
Liam purposefully remains behind Ethan, stressed and sweating as he tracks his every move. Ethan notices but pays it no mind, simply keeping his motions slow and his hands in sight.
James starts a K12 saw and climbs inside the container. Sparks fly everywhere as he grinds the armored transport''s door locks.
"What do you do with the vehicle once you''re done looting it?" Ethan asks.
Zoe lifts her head from her work. "Scrap it for parts and sell them once we remove the serials. And we cut the body into chucks before gifting it to a scrap dealer who smelts them," she explains.
The armored transport''s doors give up in an echoing metallic snap. A wave of diverse Ethers fills the warehouse, colliding with each other and creating turbulence in the air.
They all enter to see a collection of wooden crates. Opening them reveals dungeon stones, Ether crystals, and weapons carefully packed in plastic straw.
A dagger of intricate design attracts Ethan''s attention. The spine of the obsidian-black blade is serrated like that of a harpoon. Touching it, Ethan thinks, ''Identification.''
Dark fate (Dagger)
This dark steel dagger extracts Ether from the creatures it wounds. The dagger turns the stolen Ether into dark Ether and releases it into the air.
This weapon has been enchanted with [Sharpness (D)], and [Durability (D)].
Seeing the window, Liam says, "Your share is the dungeon stones." His voice hints at restrained annoyance.
Ethan moves silently to the dungeon stones, quickly storing them in his haversack. Moving slowly, he checks every crate for more of them. Having taken all of them, he steps down from the container. "It is a pleasure doing business with you. Remember, not a word about me to anyone," Ethan threatens as he exits the building.
''Did he take the jammer?!'' Zoe asks herself. She looks around, and her eyes quickly find the jammer and the radio on the SUV''s ceiling. She secures them, along with her own, in their locker.
James drives the armored truck out of the container before parking it on an industrial car lift. As the others unload the crates, Zoe opens the hood.
The armored transport uses heavy parts usually found in fret trucks. She begins with the easily accessible parts and soon removes the battery, the engine control unit, and the radiator. Each piece is placed aside for James to anonymize. Zoe''s hands move with practiced ease as she dismantles the complex machinery.
With a pneumatic wrench, she loosens the bolts holding the axle and suspension system. The heavy thuds of metal hitting the ground punctuate the air, mixing with the occasional spark from where James erases the serials with a grinder.
As the body of the truck becomes more skeletal, Zoe directs James to make cuts in the body with his K12 saw. Soon the chassis turned into pieces of metal scrap.
As night deepens, the warehouse grows quieter. The armored transport lies dismantled in pieces ready to be sold, meticulously organized on the warehouse''s concrete floor.
"Engineering leveled up," the voice announces.
Oil and sweat make Zoe''s skin stick with each movement. ''We just need to load the pieces in their crates, and then I can finally sink in my bed,'' she thinks. As she moves to a set of empty crates, she feels her phone vibrate in her pocket. ''Dad'' is calling. "I''ll take this call, and I''ll help you finish," she says to James, who''s triple-checking every piece.
She answers to avoid the call going to voice mail, moving to a more secluded area. Liam is sleeping deeply on a chair, even though he should be keeping watch. She passes an elevated desk room in which Oliver is still working, hidden behind three screens. She quickly reaches a locker room once dedicated to the crew.
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"Hey, Dad," Zoe begins, her voice steady despite the knots forming in her stomach.
"Zoe." Her father''s voice comes through, weary and strained. "I wish I were calling with better news."
She leans against a cold metal locker. "How is she?"
There''s a heavy pause, filling the air with tension. "Her condition has¡ worsened. The doctors say that the cancer has spread faster than they anticipated."
Zoe''s hand clenches into a fist, her short nails still digging into her palm. "How bad is it?"
"They''re adjusting her treatment plan, but¡ they are talking about quality of life now," he says.
Zoe''s hand grips the phone tighter, her other hand removing the tears forming in her eyes. "I''ve got almost enough for the therapy. It''s almost there; they can''t abandon her now."
Her father sighs. "I know, honey, ¡ I know. But the doctors are concerned that she might not be strong enough for it."
A long silence follows. She slides down the metal locker until she''s seated on the cold floor. Her breaths are heavy and strained, each accompanied by a knot in her chest.
"I''m coming home. I''ll try to be there tonight," she whispers.
Her father''s voice softens, still filled with sadness. "Be safe, ok? There is no need to get wounded by one of those monsters."
"I love you, Dad," she manages to say.
"I love you, honey," he replies before the line goes silent.
Zoe sits alone in the dim locker room, her phone slipping from her limp grasp to the floor. Tears stream down her face uncontrollably, her body shaking with silent sobs. The oil on her hands attacks her eyes as she tries to wipe away the tears.
Without turning on the lights, she makes her way to a shower. She strips off her work clothes, stained with oil. Turning on the shower, she steps in as hot water cascades down with high pressure. It envelops her in a warm embrace that calms her shaking body.
As the water streams down, Zoe''s thoughts whirl. The hot droplets merge with her tears. She closes her eyes, letting the heat seep into her muscles, trying to wash away the frustration and helplessness. Her mother''s health has been deteriorating for the past three years, yet this is the first time the realization of her final days'' inevitability has hit Zoe.
After an eternity, Zoe''s tears begin to subside. She remains in the shower long after the water has rinsed away the day''s dirt. The shower suddenly shuts down without warning. The lights in the corridor disappear, and the sound of James'' grinder stops.
''A fuse must have blown up,'' she thinks. Reaching for a towel, Zoe wraps herself in its coarse embrace. Slipping into her clothes, she moves through the shadows, the only light coming from a slither of moonlight piercing through high windows. She turns on her phone''s light, but it shuts itself down as the battery dies. ''Fuck.''
As she steps out of the locker room, Zoe''s eyes adjust to the dimness. Her steps echo slightly. She remembers rather than sees the familiar environment.
Zoe reaches the main area, her eyes scanning around. Liam''s barely distinct shadow sits in his chair. ''Still asleep,'' she thinks. As she draws closer, the moonlight reveals Liam''s face, his eyes wide open in a frozen gaze of shock. A dagger protrudes gruesomely from his throat, a pool of blood forming beneath him.
Panic claws at her chest. She whirls around, the shadows seeming to shift and whisper. Every sound terrifies her ¨C the distant drip of a faucet, the skittering of a rat, her own ragged breathing.
She falls back, her mind racing. Oliver enters his room, illuminating Zoe''s with his phone''s light. A massive shape emerges from the darkness. It lunges at Oliver with terrifying speed. Oliver barely gasps before the creature''s jaws snap shut around him, dragging him into the shadows. It was a grotesque dog silhouette of unnatural size.
Oliver''s phone slides across the concrete floor. It spins, its light sweeping across the room in a wide arc. It briefly illuminates Oliver''s head as it rolls away from his body. The severed head comes to rest with eyes wide open, staring at Zoe.
An explosion reverberates through the basement, sending vibrations up the walls and rattling the tools. A thick cloud of dust rises from the basement. James'' agonizing scream pierces the chaos. The cry is abruptly silenced by a suppressed gunshot.
Zoe stands up, her hands covered in blood. She wants to run for the door, but the shape of the creature appears under the moonlight. The silhouette of a soldier materializes from the deeper shadows near the basement. The soldier is heavily geared yet moves in total silence. The creature joins him, shrinking down to the size of a normal dog.
The man levels his rifle at Zoe, aiming at her head. Her heart pounds, terror rooting her to the spot. Yet, as the moments drag, the expected shot never comes; she notices his trigger hand trembling. In a desperate act, Zoe rips the dagger from Liam''s throat and hurls it toward the soldier. His dog intercepts it midair, growling as it approaches her.
The man gives no command, yet the dog halts, returning to his side. They both retreat into the shadows, leaving Zoe alone in the silence of the warehouse. After what feels like an eternity, she finally forces herself to move, sprinting from the building and into the safety of the night.
"The client transferred the seven hundred fifty thousand. Too bad you missed the last one," Tombstone says over the phone.
Perched high on an exposed steel beam within the shadowy expanse of the warehouse, Ethan surveys the scene below with detached calmness. Unnoticed by the cleaning crew, he watches as they methodically mop the blood-stained concrete where Liam''s, Oliver''s, and James'' bodies had lain, now encased in black plastic wrappings.
Another individual is cataloging every item found in the truck before packaging them to send them to a N.E.S.T warehouse. Ethan returned most of the dungeon stones, but kept the dark fate dagger for himself.
Holding a dungeon stone, Ethan whispers, "I think I should go to the other world for a while. To gather more information."
Tombstone''s microphone goes silent. After a minute, she responds, "We have many affairs that require your participation. However, most are on hold until we acquire more details. The higher-ups have agreed to give you two weeks."
"Thanks," Ethan replies before ending the call. He reclines against the metal beam, letting Russ crawl up to lick his face. "If I can''t even kill without hesitating and shaking, we''ll have big troubles," he murmurs to Russ.
Russ whines softly, cocking his head as if trying to understand.
"I need to get him out of my head, but I won''t find how here," Ethan mutters. He stands, slowly descending from his perch with Russ by his side, exiting the building into the night.
Chapter 28: Another world
"You obtained the Dungeon conqueror (E) title. Extra rewards have been granted," the voice announces. The reward window fades in, barely visible at the bright mountain top where Ethan stands. A peryton''s body ¨C a giant eagle with the antlers of a dear and the fangs of a wolf ¨C lies dead a few meters away.
Peryton''s nest (E)
Return stone
Silver coin (x8)
Peryton fang (x3)
Ability book: Poisoned natural weapons (F)
--- Extra rewards ---
Ring of protection (E)
Gold coin (x1)
Ability book: Strengthening (F)
Ethan picks up the items, stopping on a few for identification.
Ability book: Poisoned natural weapons (F)
Coats the claws, talons, fangs, and other natural slashing or piercing natural weapons of the user with poison. The user is immune to the poison he secretes.
Ability book: Strengthening (F)
Increases the Strength of the user in proportion with the Ether he consumes.
Russ runs around, trying to catch a butterfly. "Come," Ethan orders. As Russ runs to his feet, Ethan lays the Poisoned natural weapons book on the ground. "I know we only worked on this once, but I have faith in you," Ethan begins. Walking back, he orders, "Read."
Russ flips the cover with a swipe of his paw. The contents fly into his head, and the book turns to dust. "Good boy." Ethan copies him with the Strengthening Ability book.
Ethan slips on the second ring of protection. A red window appears before him.
Wearing two or more items providing the same benefits (disregarding their ranks) will cause all items to negate each other.
"Well, that¡¯s too bad," Ethan says to Russ as he stashes the ring in his haversack along with his SCAR-H. He looks around, searching for an easy way down. Finding no path, he sighs and walks toward one of the less-sloped sides.
Ethan and Russ begin their descent down the mountain. They carefully navigate the rugged and treacherous terrain. The air grows cooler and fresher as they move away from the summit, with greenery gradually replacing the sparse mountain vegetation. As they traverse a winding path lined with small rocks, the landscape opens up to reveal a sprawling vista.
In the distance, a quaint village emerges from the fold of the valley. The settlement is a patchwork of thatched roofs and cobblestone paths. Wisps of smoke rise from chimneys. The buildings remind Ethan of medieval depictions, but with thicker walls and a sturdier construction.
Ethan pauses for a moment to take in the view. The village appears peaceful. Fields of wheat sway gently on the outskirts, and small figures can be seen moving around. ''I''ve got to find out if I speak their language, and if I don''t, I''ll simply continue to the next place,'' Ethan plans.
Russ, undeterred by the scenic pause, tugs at Ethan''s linen pants. "I know, it must smell as weird as it feels," Ethan mocks. He''s wearing ample dark crimson linen pants along with a black linen long-sleeve shirt. Except for the Rangers he hides under his pants, he''s dressed in items he bought in a medieval roleplaying shop. Ethan pats Russ'' head as he resumes his walk.
Reaching the base of the mountain, the terrain evens out. Grassy plains stretch out before them, dotted with the occasional patch of trees.
As they approach the village''s outskirts, they can hear children playing in the fields. Two men are talking near a well, and one of them draws water from it.
"What''s the race of that dog? I''ve never seen one like that," one of them asks, pointing his finger at Russ.
The second looks for a few long seconds at Ethan. "His clothes look brand new," he says.
Ethan understands what they are saying but must fill in a few words that are altered compared to the Eldorian he learned. Russ looks at them as he notices the attention they give him. Ethan adjusts his pants, making sure they hide his modern boots. Villagers nod politely towards him, and he nods back, his demeanor calm and non-threatening despite his physique. Russ stays close by his side, clearly confused by his surroundings.
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They enter the main thoroughfare of the village, where the stone paths are lined with small shops and homes. An elderly man sitting outside a tavern looks up from his pipe, eyeing Ethan and Russ with interest.
"Evening, traveler," the old man calls out, his voice rough but friendly. "We don''t see many strangers round these parts. What brings you down here?"
Ethan stops, considering his response. He sees a bulletin board along the tavern; one of the posters bears the drawing of the peryton he killed. ''Better make me known as competent,'' he thinks. He takes a few steps towards the old man and says, "I am coming back from the peryton''s nest and thought your village would be a nice place to rest."
The old man freezes at Ethan''s answer. He stands up, visibly hurting himself in doing so, and bows. "I''m sorry for inappropriately asking about your lordship''s affairs," he begs. The display stuns the villagers; their gazes turn to Ethan.
''What did I do? Was that monster a legendary beast no one killed in hundreds of years?'' Ethan asks himself. He approaches the old man. "Please don¡¯t; I am no lord. Just a wandering ¡ adventurer," Ethan lies, his voice as soft as possible.
Ethan''s correction does little to dispel the awe in the villagers'' eyes. They murmur among themselves, their expressions a mixture of respect, fear, and curiosity. The old man straightens slowly, his face creased with apology and reverence. He nods and waves him towards the tavern. "Of course, of course. My inn should have a room for you if you want to rest. Or we could find someone who would lend his house," he offers.
"I will settle for the inn; there is no need to evict someone from their home," Ethan says, utterly confused by the man''s behavior. He enters the inn, eager to get a meal after the long hours of hiking.
The few patrons take no heed of Ethan, giving him only a glance or two. He spots a man paying for a plate of meat stew with two copper coins. He sits on a stool as Russ lies down alongside him. "Could I have the same thing he''s having?" Ethan asks the waitress as he slides two copper coins.
The entire tavern freezes, turning their gazes towards Ethan in unison. Russ springs to his feet, ready to jump anyone who''d try to attack them. ''I asked for a meal!'' Ethan yells in his head.
The waitress places a plate in front of Ethan without taking his coins. He asks her, "Why is everyone taking me for some kind of lord the moment I speak?"
The waitress, a young woman with a kind but wary look, hesitates before responding. Her voice low, so only Ethan can hear, she answers, "It''s how you speak; ¡ the only people we ever hear speak like that are lords and priests." She gives him a sympathetic smile and backs away to attend to other patrons.
Ethan gets up, walking back to the inn''s entrance with his meal in hand. He leaves the coins on the counter. Russ switches his gaze from one patron to the other, not knowing why they stare at Ethan. He sits with the old man on his bench.
"Apologies for the commotion," Ethan begins. "What can you tell me about this village? I gather it''s usually quiet."
The old man nods, pulling on his pipe thoughtfully. "Quiet most times, yes. We''re mostly miners and farmers, with one craftsman. Elmswood is old, the only reason being that the bright steel we mine is useful to the capital."
"Tell me about the capital," Ethan says between two bites. ''That may be a bit much; he might expect me to already know those things,'' Ethan thinks.
The old man''s eyes light up with a hint of pride. "Ah, the city of Opal, a magnificent place edging the sea. It shelters one of the greatest armies on the continent and its most imposing naval force. And the current regent is attracting more and more great minds from our neighbors." He puffs on his pipe, sending swirls of smoke into the air. "The city thrives with artists and scholars, and traders land there from all over the world."
''Probably the best place to find a world map,'' Ethan thinks. He hesitates to ask his next question but speaks anyway, "And in which direction should I go? Should I want to visit Opal."
The old man removes his pipe from his mouth, looking at Ethan with a perplexed look. "You would go west," the old man says, pointing his pipe at the setting sun.
''Good, at least we share directions,'' Ethan jokes to himself. Finishing his meal, he notices a band of men dressed in makeshift armor roughing up a young man. "They don''t look like farmers or miners," Ethan says.
"They deserted the army after their unit was slaughtered by a troll. They force us to pay for protection in food, lodging, and coins. Nobody likes them, but they do kill the occasional goblin and deter other bandits," the old man explains.
One of them notices Ethan and joins them. Russ growls at his approach but stops as Ethan thinks, ''Leave it.''
The deserter, a rugged man with a scar cutting across his face, sizes up Ethan. He spits on the ground near his boots and sneers. "Who do we have here? A wanderer who thinks he can stroll through these parts without paying dues?" His question is voiced as a threat.
Ethan meets the deserter''s gaze firmly, showing no sign of backing down. "I''m just passing through, looking for some rest. I don''t intend to start any fight," he replies, his tone calm but assertive.
The deserter chuckles darkly, stepping closer. The smell of stale sweat is tough, like strong pepper. "Everyone pays, mate. Especially rich fuckers like you. We keep the village safe, so how about you contribute to our efforts? A bit of coin, perhaps?"
Russ growls lowly beside Ethan. Placing his empty plate on the bench, Ethan stands up, his head rising slightly higher than the deserter''s. "I won''t be staying long enough to benefit from your ¡ protection."
The man''s smirk quickly vanishes, replaced by a scowl. His hand drifts toward the sword at his belt. The three other deserters approach, attracted by the confrontation. "Don''t play the fool. We can make your stay very uncomfortable, or worse."
The air thickens with tension. The old man stands up, his voice stern as he intervenes. "Enough, Garrett. Back off and leave him be."
Garrett''s hand drops his sword''s handle, hurling his fist to backhand the old man. Ethan grabs him at the wrist, stopping it instantly. Ethan swipes his legs and throws him into the street. ''Heel,'' he mentally orders as he exits the tavern''s porch to face the deserters.
"Insight," Ethan says. A window appears before him.
Garrett Symons
Lv.8/20 (Warrior) Human
Strength: 18 Charisma: 8
Dexterity: 13 Perception: 10
Constitution: 13 Willpower: 9
Intelligence: 8
Abilities
Endurance (F)
Strengthening (F)
Chapter 29: Another world - Part 2
None of the bystanders seem to react to the window appearing in front of Ethan. ''So, the system is very much a thing on this side too,'' he mentally notes.
Garrett jumps to his feet before unsheathing his sword. He yells, "You''re dead!" He runs, screaming at the top of his lungs.
''Tackle,'' Ethan thinks, and Russ bites Garrett at the ankle, dragging it backward. Garrett''s face crashes on the stone pavement. His sword escapes his grip and tumbles a few meters away.
''This situation is too complex. I can''t kill them, or other bandits will replace them. And I can''t let them be, or they will be a thorn in my side until I leave,'' Ethan thinks. The three other deserters draw their blades. Ethan asks loudly, "Old man. Are those the only people able to protect this village from monsters?"
"Yes, the Ranger we had was killed a few months ago," the old man answers.
''Russ, place,'' Ethan mentally orders as he points to the old man''s bench. Russ runs to sit on the bench. Ethan draws the Starfell kingdom''s long sword from his haversack. The young man, the one the deserters were bothering, gasps at the sight of the blade. ''Silent steps, strengthening,'' Ethan thinks, drawing slivers of Ether from the air.
The deserters gang up on him, throwing themselves at Ethan in disorganized unison. Ethan dashes to the side, grabbing one of them by the face. He hurls his victim''s skull at the pavement, knocking him out instantly.
A deserter swings his blade, trying to hit Ethan in the head. With a flick of the wrist, Ethan deflects the blow with his own sword. Ethan reverses his blades to pommel his opponent''s chest. The force of the blow lifts the deserter into the air, forcing him to throw up his stomach''s contents.
The last deserter hesitates, taking small steps backward. He turns his back to Ethan and runs through the crowd. Ethan grabs Garrett''s purse and throws it. The mass of coins hits the coward on the head and explodes in a shower of copper. He falls forward, tumbling to the ground.
"Do you have a prison, a cell, or even crates for animals?" Ethan asks the old man.
He points at a decrepit building at the edge of town. It''s built like a small square fort, with bars blocking the lower-floor windows. "We have an old guard house, but no one has used it for years," he answers.
Ethan swiftly moves to tie up the incapacitated deserters with their own belts. With the help of a few braver villagers, they drag the unconscious men to the decrepit guard house. The building is old and worn, the windows'' bars are rusted, and the heavy wooden door creaks ominously.
The cells are small, each with just enough room for a wooden bench and a rusted iron bucket. Ethan and the villagers heave each deserter into a separate cell, locking the doors with a clang of metal.
As the villagers leave the building, a shiver spreads through Ethan''s body. He comes back to his senses, as if exiting a trance in which he was but a mere spectator. He grabs a bucket left in the corner of the main room and pukes parts of his meal. He just displayed his abilities, acting as a hero to save some miserable old man.
Russ emits a muffled bark towards the building''s entrance. Ethan sees a strand of blond hair protruding from the corner of a wall. "What do you want, kid?" he asks, recognizing through the wall the figure of the young man who gasped at the sight of his sword.
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"Hiii," the young man begins. He enters the room with a sidestep. "I just wanted to know if you could let me see the sword you used," he says.
Ethan grabs a left-over cloth to clean the corners of his mouth. "Why?" he asks.
The young man shuffles his feet, looking nervous yet determined. "Because I''ve never seen a blade like that one, I don''t even know what metal was used to make it. And I''d like to learn how to make one like that," he explains.
''Insight,'' Ethan thinks, summoning the boy''s status.
Sylas Hartwell
Lv.15/24 (Blacksmith) Human
Strength: 15 Charisma: 9
Dexterity: 15 Perception: 13
Constitution: 15 Willpower: 13
Intelligence: 12
Talents
Greater potential
Rapid growth
Titles
Bright steel artisan
Iron artisan
Leather artisan
Steel artisan
Abilities
Elemental forging (F)
Heat resistance (E)
Identification (E)
Reverse engineering (E)
"Sylas, right?" Ethan says, locking eyes with the young man. "You have quite the skill set. How are you at such a high level at your age when those who fight monsters are only around level eight?" he asks, motioning toward the cells.
Sylas looks perplexed. "I mean, I level up by crafting anything the people need. Like any other craftsman," he explains as if it were obvious.
Ethan''s expression softens. "I see. That explains your interest in my sword," he says. He gently pulls the Starfell sword from the haversack. "I''ll let you examine it if you give me a sheath for it and what I need to carry it on my belt," Ethan says.
Sylas nods eagerly, his eyes fixed on the sword with curiosity. "Of course, I can do that," he responds, gesturing for Ethan to follow him. "I have everything you need at my forge."
They walk through the streets, turning down a narrow lane that leads to the outskirts. The forge is a standalone structure near the edge of the village. The smoke of its smelter blackened its exterior walls.
As they enter, the heat hits Ethan like a wave. The interior is lit by the glow of the remaining coals in the forge. It illuminates the tools, metal scraps, and several unfinished projects. An anvil stands at the center, surrounded by tongs, hammers, and chisels of various sizes.
Sylas leads Ethan to a workbench strewn with leather pieces and metal fittings. "I''ll start by making the sheath," Sylas says, selecting a thick piece of leather. His hands move with practiced ease as he measures, cuts, and stitches the material.
As he works, Ethan places the Starfell sword on another part of the bench, allowing Sylas a closer look. He glances around the forge. Most of Sylas projects are horseshoes, saddles, saws, pickaxes, shovels, and other tools. "You must not work on many weapons around here," he says, still looking around.
Without lifting his gaze Sylas answers, "Except the guys you beat up, no one needs any weapons. And I won''t make any for deserters and thieves. Last time I made a sword, it was with my father for an order coming from the capital." His tone hints at boredom.
Ethan uses predator''s sight to scan the building but finds no other living being. "Your father is a blacksmith too?" he asks.
"Was," Sylas answers. He locks in metal fittings to keep the sheath straight. Sylas presents its creation to Ethan with a look of satisfaction.
Ethan sheaths and unsheathes the sword several times without any resistance. Yet, it doesn''t move inside when he shakes the ensemble. "Great job," he praises as he hands it to Sylas for him to study the blade.
Sylas accepts the sheathed sword with reverent care. He gently unsheathes the Starfell sword, the metal gleaming even in the dim light of the forge. His fingers trace the intricate etchings in the blade, a look of awe on his face. "This is unlike anything I''ve ever seen," Sylas murmurs. "The balance, the weight distribution, the way Ether flows through it." He cautiously swings the sword, feeling its weight and movement. "Identification," he says, summoning the sword''s description before him.
''Even if it blows my cover, I should ask him all my questions,'' Ethan thinks. He pulls out a dungeon stone from his haversack and asks, "Do you know what this is?"
Sylas glances at it before looking at Ethan, a look of confusion on his face. "That''s a dungeon stone. A fragment of the elder god power that guides adventurers to the place they are most needed," he explains. His tone is a mix of obvious explanation and curiosity.
Ethan''s mind clouds, filling with growing pain as he''s thrown into one of Maelor''s memories.
Chapter 30: Another world - Part 3
Ethan finds himself sitting in an inner courtyard. He and a dozen other youngsters surround a tree. An elder woman sits at the base of the trunk, a tome in her hands.
As the first rays of sunlight filter through the leaves, the elder woman clears her throat gently. She opens the ancient tome, its pages yellowed with age. Her voice resonates as she begins to speak.
"In the beginning, there was only the Elder God, a vast and solitary consciousness. This being, neither kind nor cruel, existed alone in the boundless nothingness." Her eyes scan the group to ensure their attention.
"But the Elder God grew weary of solitude and sought to create. It flowed from the Elder God effortlessly at first. But everything acted as dictated, without deviation. There was harmony, but no true life, for true life requires the freedom to choose." Her voice fills with a somber note.
"Realizing this, the Elder God chose a path of unimaginable sacrifice. The Elder God shattered themselves, bestowing free will upon creation." The children lean closer, and so does Maelor.
"From the remnants of this primordial act, the gods were born. Each shard of the Elder God''s essence became a deity with its own will." She points at illustrations in the tome that depict the gods.
Maelor, intrigued, raises his hand. "Did the Elder God disappear?"
The woman smiles at his question. "They did not disappear, young ones, but transformed. They now exist as the Ether that flows through each of us and the system."
A young girl, her brow furrowed in thought, timidly raises her hand. "What exactly is this ''system'', and how does it work? Why can''t we use it yet?"
The elder woman nods at the question. "The system, my dears, is a gift from the Elder God, a tool to guide you and to help you nurture your strengths as you grow. It appears on your thirteenth birthday and will guide you for all your life. Status." She shows her status to the kids, each marveling as they try to decipher the words.
Another child, leaning forward, asks, "And the Ether? How does that work?"
"Ah, the Ether," the woman says, her tone becoming reverent. "Ether is the life force that the Elder God infused into our world. It flows through everything. It feeds the abilities the system grants you and reveals the real world from another angle." She closes her tome, placing it to the side. "Close your eyes," she commands.
By shutting his eyes, Maelor can see the world through its Ether. A feat few of his age are capable of. As the other children close their eyes, the elder woman channels her Ether. A breeze of Ether brushes against their faces, making some children gasp.
"Now, I will show you a different form of Ether. This is light Ether, gifted to us by the god of light, one of the divine children of the Elder God. It is pure, healing, and protective." The Ether emanating from her transforms as she speaks.
The electrifying touch of Ether turns into warmth. Maelor feels a soft, radiant light bathe his skin. A knot in his heart loosens. Ethan hadn''t noticed this pain until it disappeared; it was too close to how he feels every day.
"Ether manipulation leveled up."
Ethan comes back to the present, catching a workbench to avoid falling. Sylas rushes to his side to try to catch him. In reflex Ethan grabs Sylas forearm and twists it, forcing Sylas to the ground.
Sylas lets out a grunt as his face scrapes on the dust-covered floor. Ethan releases his grip. "Sorry," he apologizes, helping Sylas to his feet. Russ whines worriedly at Ethan.
Sylas dusts himself off. "What happened to you?" he asks.
Ethan leans back on the workbench. He hesitates, restarting his answer several times. "For the past week or so, I have suffered from a condition. Another man''s soul, or what remained of it, invaded mine. I struggle to stay myself at times, and when certain triggers happen, I''m dragged into one of his memories. Just like now," he admits. ''The chances he can help me are low. But I can''t go on like this,'' he thinks as he waits for Sylas response.
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Sylas thinks deeply, his expression a mix of concern and confusion. After a moment, he shakes his head. "I mean, I''m just a blacksmith. You need a priest for problems like that; too bad there isn''t one in this village," he says.
Ethan''s mind wanders to the memory of Lucien. ''A priest should be less vindictive than a paladin. This could be worth a shot,'' Ethan thinks.
Sylas continues, "There''s a sanctuary not far from here, half-way to the capital. Three or four days west if you''re on foot."
Ethan picks up the distant sound of bells. Activating predator''s sight, he hears a cacophony of panicked shouts and clanging bells. Women grab their children, dragging them into their homes. Men gather whatever weapons they can find¡ªpitchforks, pickaxes, anything sharp or pointy. Among the chaos, Ethan hears a war horn away from the village.
Sylas looks through a window. His face darkens as he sees the chaos forming outside. "What''s happening?" he asks.
"A raid party is about to descend on your village," Ethan answers. Focusing on the war horn, he sees the figures of twenty bulky individuals. Their biology is different from that of humans. They are thicker, with overdeveloped muscles and bigger organs. Their heads are squarer, sporting tusks that protrude from their lower jaw. He notices a few of them in the village, lurking between houses.
"What''s your plan?" Sylas asks. As he turns to Ethan, he doesn''t see him. Ethan disappeared without a sound.
Avoiding the skulking creatures, Ethan makes his way out of the village with Russ on his heels. "Three days west," Ethan murmurs to his dog. "Let''s hope it won''t rain."
A woman screams a dozen meters away. She stumbled onto one of the infiltrated monsters. The creature swings a crude and oversized dagger at her throat. Ethan''s body moves outside of his control, and his sword deflects the creature''s attack. With a thrust, Ethan pierces his heart, following by a slash at the throat. He falls backward, holding his gaping wounds with both hands.
An arrow whistles and misses Ethan by a hair. One of the creatures on the hill arms another shot. Ethan drags the woman out of the line of sight, placing her behind cover.
Ethan dashes into a nearby large bush. He pulls out his SCAR-H and aims at the hill. The creatures are running towards the village. He aims at one of the archers and pulls the trigger. The bullet pierces the creature''s head, killing him on the spot. Before they enter the village, he''s able to take out six of them.
"You leveled up."
A shiver runs down his spine as he smells something behind him. He rolls to the side, avoiding a blow from a creature bigger than the others. He wears leather armor and a hooded black coat. Predator''s sight failed to warn Ethan of his presence. "That''s a weird crossbow you have, humie," the creature growls.
Ethan fires a round at him, but he has already moved. Ethan parries a sword blow with the body of his rifle, but it throws him backward tens of meters. Russ rushes to his side as Ethan lands on his back. ''Insight,'' Ethan thinks.
Grom Drakka
Lv.20/20 (Assassin) Orc
Strength: 26 Charisma: 4
Dexterity: 21 Perception: 15
Constitution: 20 Willpower: 19
Intelligence: 9
Titles
Dungeon conqueror (E)
Dungeon conqueror (F)
Goblin hunter
Human hunter
Kin slayer
Orc hunter
Wolf hunter
Warg hunter
Abilities
Anonymity (F)
Critical sight (F)
Shadow Blend (F)
Silent Steps (F)
Veil (F)
''Here''s what you get for playing hero, you stupid priest!'' Ethan yells in his head. He jumps to his feet, unable to find Grom anywhere. Bracing his rifle, he realizes that the blow bent it beyond repair.
"Heel," Ethan commands. Under the stress of the situation, Russ''s body swells, his muscles bulging as he uses Growth. He lets out a thunderous bark as the smell comes back.
From the corner of his eye, Ethan spots Grom lunging. The orc''s movements are a blur. Ethan reacts instinctively, his blade meeting Grom''s with a resonating clang. The orc''s overwhelming power forces him to take a step back.
''Strengthening,'' Ethan thinks, channeling as much Ether as he can muster. His body heats up, turning the orc''s unbearable strength into a light push.
Grom''s arm gives in, giving Ethan the opportunity to slash at his legs. Russ sinks his teeth into Grom''s calf. The orc growls in pain, shattering Ethan''s hearing.
In a brutal motion, Grom punches Russ, sending the dog tumbling away. Ethan''s blade slices through Grom''s armor, leaving a deep gash across the orc''s chest.
Grom staggers back, clutching at his wounded chest. "Good, humie. Got some fight in you," he grunts. His pupils dilate, and he grasps his head, staggering as if disoriented. He glares down at his injured calf and then at Russ, bellowing in a mix of pain and fury, "I''ll eat you, you stupid wolf!"
Seizing the moment of Grom''s distraction, Ethan casts Debilitating Hex. Black tendrils of smoke spiral of from his hand, wrapping around Grom''s limbs. The hex forces the orc''s massive body to bend, bringing him to his knees with a grunt of resistance.
Russ hurls his jaws around Grom''s throat, his teeth digging deep into the orc''s flesh. Grom''s hands claw at Russ, trying to pry him off, but the hex holds long enough for Russ to secure his grip.
"Russ leveled up," the voice announces.
Chapter 31: Orc raid
Ethan''s ears ring out as he comes back from Maelor''s influence. "Fuck!" he yells. Russ circles around him, twitching his head to watch every direction. ''If I go back now, I''ll have to try another dungeon. And I don''t know how likely it will be for me to find another city,'' Ethan thinks.
The village turns into a cacophony of destruction as orcs rampage through. Thick smoke billows from homes now engulfed in flames, casting an orange glow over the scene. Villagers flee in all directions, terror etched on their faces.
Ethan''s heart and stomach tighten. He falls to his knees, his image appearing in a puddle. His face blurs and turns into that of Maelor before coming back to its true appearance. The chaotic echoes of the battle seem to blend with the internal struggle raging within his mind. With each heartbeat, he feels Maelor''s essence weaving itself deeper into his soul.
Gritting his teeth, Ethan pushes against the muddy ground, forcing himself to stand. His breathing is heavy, each inhale stinging with smoke. He stares at the puddle, watching the reflection as it shifts back and forth between his own and Maelor''s. "You want to save the weak, the poor, and the unfortunate?! Very well, if that''s what makes you go away, I''ll kill them all!" Ethan shouts at the reflection.
As Ethan sees a young family cornered by an orc, his heart tightens. He pulls up the dark fate dagger and hurls it at the monster''s throat. He falls forward, the dagger releasing dark tendrils of Ether in the air.
Ethan pulls out his dagger, the tendrils of dark Ether edging his skin. As he lets them in, hoping it will improve the power of his hex, his inner turmoil turns silent.
Another orc charges at him from the doorway of a nearby building. ''Strengthening,'' Ethan thinks to himself. His sword pierces the orc''s armor, embedding deep. As the orc raises its axe in retaliation, Ethan delivers a swift kick to his knee. The joint buckles unnaturally, and the orc collapses onto its other knee. Ethan draws his dagger across the orc''s throat.
Russ joins him, unable to keep up with Ethan''s speed. Arrows whistle, and Ethan slashes through them, deflecting two to the side. "Melee Weapon (Long sword) leveled up." On the roof of a burning house, three lean orcs prepare another volley.
Ethan expends more Ether to enhance his Strengthening ability. He focuses an ever-increasing part of his mind to absorb more Ether from the air. He propels himself onto the roof, his landing carving a crater in the thatch. He decapitates the first orc. Another orc loses an arrow. Ethan seizes the third orc by the neck and uses the creature''s skull to intercept the projectile.
Ethan throws the dead orc at his comrade, propelling both of them off the roof. ''Kill,'' he orders as Russ sees the falling duo. He grabs his first victim''s bow and quiver, scanning his surroundings. He nocks an arrow, his eyes scanning for the next threat. The bow is powerful, requiring what feels like a hundred and fifty kilos of force.
An orc emerges from a smoking house, swinging a massive club. Ethan releases the arrow, striking the orc in the chest. The monster stumbles backward, looking at Ethan. Ethan shoots another arrow at the orc, piercing his brain through his left eye.
The chaos around him blurs into a backdrop as he focuses on his targets. Using predator''s sight, he picks off the orcs one by one, taking them by surprise. "Ranged Weapon (Bow) leveled up." His quiver soon empties, and he jumps off the roof.
Guided by agonizing screams, he sprints toward the village''s center. He picks up weapons from his victims: axes, spears, and a makeshift flail.
As he nears the central square, orcs swarm from all directions. Ethan ducks and weaves through the horde. He uses the environment to his advantage, kicking up dust and debris to blind his attackers. He hurls his looted weapons at them, hitting orcs in the neck, head, and chest. He slams an orc''s head against a wall, impales another, and pushes a third into burning debris.
He soon stands among a pile of corpses. Some of them grunt in pain, suffering their last moments. An axe spins past Ethan, bringing down a house as it crashes into it. From the shadowed fringes of the square, a massive orc appears, clad in laminated plate armor. Some tanks would pale in comparison to its thickness. The rusted plates glint in the flickering firelights. Each of his steps resonates through the ground.
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He towers over Ethan, its face obscured by a helm that leaves only its glaring eyes. He wields a large, serrated axe, like the one behind Ethan. The orc roars, his voice shaking the ground and the buildings.
''Hide,'' Ethan orders Russ. He pulls out his KS23 and unloads the four rounds in the orc''s face. The projectiles bounce off the metal, leaving dents in their path.
The orc charges, swinging his axe in a wide arc. The axe embeds itself in the paved ground, raising a cloud of dust. Ethan slashes at the joints, but his blade fails to cut the orc''s flesh.
As the orc readies another attack, Ethan casts debilitating hex. The black tendrils, empowered by the Ether released by the dagger, dig into the orc. He falls to one knee, his armor turning into a ponderous cage.
The orc roars, and his muscles billow with vapor. Glowing red veins protrude along his skin, and he swells in size. He leaps in the air, as if armor weighs nothing. He lands along Ethan, his axe cutting the ground. The force of the blow collapses the house in the prolongation of his slash.
Ethan dodges blow after blow, unable to breathe for even a moment. Avoiding an axe swing, Ethan fails to see the orc''s fist hurling at his chest. In an instant, the blow propels Ethan through a house and one of its inhabitants.
Covered in blood and bones, Ethan attempts to rise from the rubble. His body screams in agony, crushed and pierced by fragments of wood and stone. The dark Ether cursing through him runs out, and so does the hex.
The orc swings at the buildings around him, leveling the square. Ethan pulls out two light Ether crystals and shatters one. As it penetrates his body, Ethan feels a rush of warmth surge through him. He imagines the shimmering runic circle of the Heal spell, each line glowing with a soft, golden light. The light Ether spreads through Ethan''s body, targeting the most ravaged areas. With a few pulses, the deep wounds inflicted by the orc mend. Bone knits back together with a faint sound, like a quiet snapping of twigs. Muscle fibers rejoin, sinews heal, and the pain that clouded Ethan''s senses ebbs away.
Ethan rises from the rubble to reenter the square. He breaks the second light Ether crystal. The orc gaze turns to Ethan, empty of sentience and ferocious like that of a rabid predator. The chaotic battlefield around Ethan fades as he closes his eyes. He visualizes the runic circle for Purifying flame, each rune glowing with a golden light.
With his sight closed off, Ethan''s triggers predator''s sight. The pounding footsteps of the orc reverberate through the ground. Ethan listens intently, using the sounds of the orc''s movements to gauge his position. The heavy, ragged breathing of the orc and the creaking of his armor become Ethan''s guides.
With each breath, Ethan draws more Ether into the palm of his hand, feeding the spell. Ethan dodges instinctively as he feels a rush of air ¨C a near miss from the orc''s massive axe. His heart races, but his mind stays clear, focused solely on casting his spell.
The air around him heats up as he unleashes Purifying flame. Even with his eyes closed, Ethan can feel the intense heat radiating outward. He hears the roar of the flames as they meet the orc''s armor; the sound is fierce and consuming. As he opens his eyes, Ethan sees drips of molten metal falling to the ground.
The orc movements grow desperate and erratic. Yet he attacks recklessly, hurling himself at Ethan through the flames. Ethan moves backward, keeping his distance from his enemy as the flames consume him.
Sensing his light Ether running out, Ethan grabs another crystal from his haversack. The orc slashes at Ethan; his axe hits the crystal and sends it flying into a wall. The spell, bereft of his source of light Ether, twists and fluctuates in Ethan''s mind. He closes his eyes once more, struggling to keep the runes'' integrity.
He erases every mention of light from the spell''s runes, keeping only its most basic elements. As he stabilizes the spell, Ethan opens his eyes, in time to see the orc lunging toward him. Ethan throws himself to the side, the axe grazing his arm and tearing through his shirt and bicep.
With a final push of will, Ethan channels wild, unrefined flames at the orc. The fire erupts from his hand in a brilliant, chaotic burst, engulfing the monster. It latches onto its armor, finding every crack and crevice the molten metal has exposed.
The orc roars in pain and anger, the flames searing his flesh. He staggers back, swiping wildly, trying to reach Ethan through the blaze. The heat is intense; its blinding light casts flickering shadows across the square.
Ethan''s spell escapes his control, draining more Ether than he can gather. His vision blurs at the edges, and his heart tightens as he feels the spell consume his life force. In that moment, the crimson flames turn into a blue jet of condensed fire. It pierces through the air with an ethereal sharpness like a burning lance. The heat is so intense that it burns a clean hole through the orc''s thick armor and flesh.
The spell breaks, cutting the flow of flames. The beast staggers backward, a stunned expression frozen in his grotesque face. He tries to clutch the fatal wound, his hand passing through his chest. Ethan falls to the ground; each breath he takes is more labored than the last.
"You learned the Flame spell. You leveled up. Spell casting ranked up. Ether manipulation leveled up. Ether manipulation leveled up. Life force manipulation leveled up (x10)," the feminine voice announces.
Ethan focuses, attempting to channel the surrounding Ether into his heart. His body feels leaden, barely responding to his efforts to even turn his head. A glance down at his arm reveals a network of black veins spreading to his fingertips. As his vision tunnels, the world around him dims, succumbing to darkness.
Chapter 32: Visions
Ethan wakes up with a jolt, his body sprawled across the hard surface of a marble bench. The sun beams down upon him, its warm rays piercing the fabric of his clothes and his skin. His eyes flutter open, adjusting to the sudden burst of light. Ethan realizes that he''s wearing a three-piece suit. This kind of vestment is what he would typically wear, but he didn''t bring any with him. ''Where am I?'' he asks himself.
The heavy thud of a closing book interrupts his thoughts. Ethan¡¯s gaze shifted across the garden to find a figure seated on the opposite side. It is Maelor, or at least the reflection Ethan had seen before. The figure wears a tattered, bloodied robe, identical to the one he had on when Ethan ended his suffering.
"Welcome, Ethan," Maelor said. His voice is calm amid the chirping of birds and the rustling of leaves.
Ethan stands up, a mix of anger and bewilderment clear in his voice as he demands, "What is this? Here to take over, are we?!"
Maelor shakes his head, disappointment etched across his face. "We are in the remnants of my mind, a memory of a safe place. A sanctuary for reflection and perhaps redemption."
"Redemption? What are you talking about?" Ethan asks, stepping closer. "I don''t need redemption. I need control. Control over the mind and body you are taking from me!"
Maelor rises, matching Ethan''s height. "Your hands are stained, and your soul is tarnished. I cannot simply step aside and let the chaos continue."
Ethan''s face contorts in a sneer. "You think you''re better than me? You are a leech who parasitizes my existence! And you''re judging me?!"
"I am not to judge," Maelor replies calmly. "I am here to help you accept your sins and to help you redeem yourself. To guide you, for you to become a better man who''ll build and not destroy."
"Redeem myself?" Ethan laughs bitterly, the sound echoing on the garden''s walls. "To whom? For what? The murderers, thieves, rapists, terrorists, and other scum I killed?!"
Maelor''s expression softens. "To yourself, Ethan. For your own peace."
"I''ll be at peace when my father¡¯s murderer draws his last breath. When I retire on a nice little private island with the millions I made." He lunges at Maelor, but his hand passes through the figure.
"And when you die, your soul will roam, dragged down by the weight of your regrets," Maelor cautions.
"What tells you I''ll have regrets? I''ve got none," Ethan retorts.
"You will, the day your actions cost the life of an innocent. Or each time you stood idly by when you could have saved someone¡¯s life. And that day will be soon, seeing how our divergent souls tear each other apart."
"I''ll expel you from my mind soon enough. No need to tune myself to your self-righteous precepts!" Ethan yells.
"Then maybe, when our souls are shattered, you will grow to take another path. A path devoid of the excuses you made for your sinful actions. A path devoid of vengeance, hatred, and misanthropy! A path upon which you put your strength at the service of the weak, the poor, and the unfortunate!" Maelor preaches.
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As Maelor speaks, Ethan feels a strange sensation wash over him. His anger subsides, replaced by a flood of feelings he had long suppressed. Ethan takes a deep breath, looking around the garden to avoid Maelor''s gaze.
Maelor continues, "this is your chance, Ethan. A chance to remake your life and become someone else, someone better." He stands silently, watching Ethan with a judgmental gaze.
As the sun climbs higher, its reflections on the garden blind Ethan. His senses leave him, dragging him into slumber.
The lights of a chandelier pass through his closed eyes. The wool blocking his movements scrapes against his skin. He opens his eyes, finding himself in a wide stone room. The air is musty, filled with the scent of old wood and incense. He is lying on a wooden bed, covered with a thick wool blanket that grazes his skin.
As he sits up, a stained-glass window depicting the gods catches his attention. A few hand-woven rugs cover the stone floor, their patterns faded by time. A small fireplace crackles as it consumes the last fragments of a few logs.
Russ sleeps deeply, curled in front of the fire. His pads are red, marked by recent extensive use. He doesn''t hear Ethan moving around. ''He''s exhausted; I''ve rarely seen him like that," Ethan thinks.
A ceramic jug sits on a small table next to the bed. His throat dry as desert sand, Ethan hastily drinks the water it holds. His haversack rests against the table. He checks its contents, finding everything he remembers storing.
The door to the room squeaks as it opens. Ethan pretends to be asleep, snuggling back into his bed. A figure enters and adds a fresh log to the fire. Ethan cracks one eye open slightly and recognizes Sylas. Ethan sits on the bed and asks, "Where are we?"
Sylas looks surprised and turns toward Ethan. "They told me you wouldn''t wake up for at least another day."
"Who are they?" Ethan asks.
"I took you to the sanctuary we spoke of. When we found you, it seemed like you''d drained all your life force. Normally, people who go through this fall into a deep sleep for months. But the priests said your soul is unusually strong," Sylas recounts.
Russ stirs, awakened by their voices. He leaps onto the bed, whimpering and nuzzling against Ethan.
"He¡¯s been a great help. He¡¯s excellent at catching rabbits and fish. But he doesn''t know any commands¡ I tried to teach him to sit."
"Russ, sit," Ethan commands in English. Russ immediately complies, and Ethan clarifies, "he doesn¡¯t understand your language, and he¡¯s trained to disobey everyone but me." Ethan slowly gets up, feeling the stiffness in his muscles and joints. "Now that I''m awake, I have another matter to ask them about."
"I''ve already brought it up," Sylas says. "They mentioned that the rector will see you once you¡¯ve recovered."
Ethan nods, easing the stiffness in his limbs as his body protests the sudden movements. "How long have I been out?" he asks, massaging his sore legs.
"Three and a half days. We arrived about ten hours ago," Sylas responds. His voice softens. "Thank you, Ethan. You saved many lives. My village would have suffered far worse without your intervention. I might not be alive without your help." His eyes are earnest, filled with unmistakable gratitude.
Ethan shifts on the bed. The praise unsettles him, stirring a deep-seated unease. "Don''t thank me. I didn''t do it for you or your village," he deflects hastily. His gaze drifting to the stained glass that casts multicolored hues across the room.
"Few would have stood their ground as you did. Every soldier I known would have fled, their tails between their legs," Sylas continues. He''s seemingly unaware of Ethan''s discomfort.
The door creaks open. "I heard voices. Must I assume that our patient is awake?" an elderly feminine voice inquires from the doorway.
"Yes," Sylas answers, turning towards the newcomer.
An old woman with flowing gray hair steps into the room. She''s clad in a sublime white robe embroidered with golden threads. A palpable wave of ether fills the space as she enters. Her eyes, glowing with a golden light, lock onto Ethan.
Chapter 33: Answers
The old woman''s aura, filled with light Ether, heals Ethan''s sores. Russ''s damaged pods turn back to their natural gray.
"I am Elowen Windale, this sanctuary''s rector. And a servant of Seraphel, the god of light." Her gaze is piercing, focused on Ethan. She motions to Sylas. "Could you leave us? Breakfast will soon be served in the main hall."
Sylas obeys, quickly exiting through the door. As he leaves, the rector motions for Ethan to follow her. They move through stone corridors. Scores of priests and priestesses bow in their paths.
They arrive in a hall devoid of priests. Soldiers guard the hall, clad in silvery plate armor. Two of them push open the heavy door at the end of the hall.
As Ethan passes the doorkeepers, he notices the wyvern engraved on their shoulder. "Who are they loyal to? They do not bear the sigil of any god I know."
"The church is forbidden from having armed forces in this country. It is, in fact, true in many countries." She turns her gaze toward him. "But you wouldn''t know that, coming from another world."
Ethan stops, surprised by her words. He glances around, gauging if the soldiers were instructed to harm him. They remain still, as if they heard nothing.
She continues, entering an imposing circular room. The walls rise high, arching into a stained-glass ceiling. Imposing statues rest in alcoves along the edge. Individuals, each wearing different vestments and symbols, tread the marble floor. They restrain their auras, but those still cause turbulence as they collide. A woman emitting dark Ether passes by Ethan, sending shivers down his spine.
Ethan''s gaze scans the room, stopping at each statue and their plate. "One would think this place would have omitted a few of them," Ethan says. His gaze stays longer on the statue of the goddess of death, Kaliathra.
"This sanctuary venerates the elder god." She waves at the most central and pristine statue. "By extension, we accept all of his children and all of their followers."
The statue of the elder god is that of an androgyne, naked, and featureless human. As he looks at it, Ethan stops himself from bowing at the statues.
Two guards open another door leading to a garden. "You know that I come from another world. Shouldn''t you be more surprised and inquisitive?"
"I was surprised when I looked at your status," she begins. "The titles you were granted betrayed you. Those from our world who carried them are long dead, almost forgotten legends."
"Then I must not be the first to cross over," Ethan says. They stop at the doors of a tall building, waiting for the guards to open. Its interior is filled with shelves and books. The floors are made of open corridors, forming a central well. A few priests are silently copying books on their desks.
She guides Ethan to a staircase, at the top of which they enter a private study. Hundreds of books lay meticulously ordered on marble shelves. Skulls of various monsters decorate the empty spots, along with weapons and items. A globe stands in a corner, displaying a world different from Earth.
"You are not the first to come to our world. Nor is your world the first to mingle with ours," Elowen explains. She opens a tome, turning it toward Ethan. She says, "The first records of otherworldly travelers date back thousands of years. It''s how entire species came to be."
Ethan flips the pages that depict dragons, giants, orcs, fairies, and many others. "How is it that we look so much alike? I wasn''t expecting to find humans at first. And doesn''t all this clash with your religion? Creation outside of the will of your Elder god," Ethan asks.
"We theorized that your worlds are shards of the Elder god. Shards that didn''t take the form of a god. The elder god created mankind in their image, a shard reproducing their work doesn''t surprise me." Her voice carries uncertainty.
"I know a few great people whose life work would disagree with you," Ethan quips. He turns the globe, taking pictures of its surface.
"We are on the west coast of this continent, near the south tip," she informs. "What I can''t understand is why Seraphel''s influence is telling me to end you? It''s been whispering at me since I laid my eyes on you."
Her words make Ethan shiver. ''How strong is she? Could I kill her here without alerting the entire place?'' Ethan thinks. "When I first crossed to this world, I attracted the attention of the goddess of death. She warned me that other gods would try to hunt me for the favors she granted me."
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Her gaze is locked on Ethan. She says, "You are telling the truth ¨C at least part of it. You are lucky; in my hundred years of service, Seraphel has never summoned me. Yet, you conversed with a goddess as soon as she laid her eyes on you." Her voice is devoid of jealousy or envy.
"You look younger," he praises. "I''ve met a paladin who seemingly couldn''t resist that influence and attacked me on sight."
She smiles. "If he''s still alive, give it a few years. We learn to separate it from ourselves. At least some of us do."
"He''s still alive." She nods at Ethan''s words. "Sylas mentioned that he inquired about my other problem."
"He did. But I need to know more about the man who invaded your soul. Though you should thank him for saving you. His soul helped restore yours when you exhausted your life energy." She opens another book, titled ''Possessions''
"Maelor Halvern, he was a priest of Seraphel. He died in the depths of the abyssal keep, where I found him," Ethan reveals, conscious that she''s gazing.
She chuckles. "You are quite honest; that''s surprising," she begins. "Then it is clear as to why you struggle for control. Your ideals and morals must be worlds apart."
"There''s only two kinds of people you never lie to: lawyers and doctors," Ethan quips.
"I know of a few ways to heal your condition. The best one would be to solve the other soul''s regrets." She stops for a moment, hesitating to continue. "You could ask a Necromancer to remove it from you, but I wouldn''t trust them. And it would anger Kaliathra."
"Are those my two options? Desperately searching for the Etherlight crucible or angering the only god that doesn''t despise me?" Ethan chuckles at the idea.
She twitches at the mention of the Etherlight crucible. She yells, "What do you know about that artifact?!"
Her mood swing takes Ethan aback, switching his posture as he mentally orders, ''Leave it.'' Russ growls lightly at his feet. "He showed me the memories of his last moments. Hooded and masked assassins appeared from thin air. They killed Maelor and his cohort before taking the crucible. And after that something¡ someone escaped from the stone and scorched the place."
Elowen''s features soften as she steps back. "There is a third way, should you choose to align with Maelor''s ideals. You probably unlocked the Remnants Warden class."
"Class change," Ethan says. A multitude of cards appear ¨C more than he remembers. He searches through them and finds the Remnants Warden card.
Remnants Warden
Remnants Wardens carry the weight of other souls'' regrets. They can summon the souls they shelter to their side, freely using the abilities they wielded in life.
Every two levels in the Remnants Warden class will grant you a Willpower point.
Lv. 0: Soul resonance, pact of regrets
Lv. 5: Remnant possession, remnant summoning
Lv. 10: Remnant arsenal
Lv. 15: Remnant seal
Lv. 20: Remnants unity
"In the meantime, you should raise your willpower to resist him." She pries a necklace from a shelf and hands it to Ethan. "Once you succeed in the realm of ascension, you''ll be able to pick another path. Or continue on with the Remnants Knight class."
"The realm of ascension?" Ethan asks. Before she can answer, he identifies the necklace.
Necklace of willpower (E)
Willpower +2
Elowen explains, "You will be called there when you reach the highest level of a class. Succeeding in its trials will grant you a class change. And new classes based on your previous ones."
"And what if I keep my current class? It doesn''t seem to have a level cap," Ethan asks.
"I have never met a Harbinger in person. But from the stories I heard, I strongly suggest you choose a class. Or you''ll be unable to compete with those who unlock the higher ones," she answers.
"Why are you telling me all this? Aren''t you compelled to restrain that knowledge?" Ethan asks.
She smiles. "This is what we teach our children. You would eventually know. And I took a vow to help any who enter my sanctuary, regardless of their past or standing."
The door opens, and a soldier enters in a hurry, jolting Russ. "Rector, we received a message from the city of Opal. They request priests to stop the spread of a new disease." He holds a letter in front of her.
She grabs it to read its exact content. "I''ll send a group this afternoon. You can return to your station," she orders. As the soldier leaves, she turns to Ethan. "You should go with them," she says.
"I''d rather go hunt monsters for a while. Level up and raise my Willpower high enough to silence him," he says. Opening his status, he raises his willpower to twenty-one.
"The reason I tell you to go with them, is that you''ll find something of great value there." She opens a book and displays the image of an imposing crystal embedded in a small stone monument. "There, you''ll find an artifact enabling you to return to and from your world."
Ethan Reed
Lv.14 (Harbinger) Human
Class change available
Strength: 23 Charisma: 12
Dexterity: 20 Perception: 16
Constitution: 20 Willpower: 23 (21)
Intelligence: 20
Titles
Dungeon conqueror (D)
First dungeon conqueror (D)
Dungeon conqueror (E)
Dungeon conqueror (F)
First dungeon conqueror (F)
First hunter
Goblin hunter
Slayer of the first incursion
Kin slayer
Kobold hunter
Skeleton hunter
Abilities
Anonymity (F)
Identification (F)
Insight (E)
Piercing shot (F)
Predator''s sight (E)
Silent steps (F)
Spell casting (E)
Strengthening (F)
Russ
Lv.4/20 (Ambush predator) Dog
Bonded: Ethan Reed (Obedience 92)
Strength: 10 Charisma: 6
Dexterity: 20 Perception: 23
Constitution: 12 Willpower: 14
Intelligence: 6
Abilities
Bond telepathy
Growth (F)
Poisoned natural weapons (F)
Silent steps (F)
Chapter 34: Journey
Ethan tries to find a comfortable position on the back of a jolting cart. Comfort seems to have abandoned this wooden contraption long ago. The cart''s solid wooden wheels relentlessly transmit every imperfection of the road beneath them. Each rut and rock they encounter sends a shuddering jolt through his bones.
Around him, the priests and Sylas seem unaffected by the rough ride. Russ decided to walk alongside the cart rather than suffer its torture. The priests chat amongst themselves. Their voices form a ceaseless chatter that nurtures a headache in Ethan''s mind.
As the cart trundles along, Ethan shifts again, futilely trying to alleviate the soreness creeping up his back and legs. Every new position brings its own brand of discomfort. The hard wooden seat digs into his thighs, and the splintered side rail itches his arms. The sun dips lower, stretching the surrounding shadows.
The soldier driving the horses halts the cart at the feet of a solitary building. It''s a tavern, though the walls are built of thick, hewn stone. The heavy wooden doors are reinforced with iron bands. And narrow, arrow-slit windows dot the second floor.
Ethan steps down from the cart. The front of the tavern features a large, wrought iron sign depicting a frothy mug. The air is rich with the aromas of roasted meat and freshly baked bread. A palisade surrounds a vast garden and a chicken coup.
"We''ll rest here for the night," the soldier declares. "Do not exit the building or bother other patrons." He opens the doors, revealing a warm, inviting interior. The main hall is bustling with activity; adventurers of various races are gathered around tables. Their weapons rest against the backs of their chairs or lean against the walls.
Each table is lit by candles set in sturdy iron holders, casting a warm glow across the walls adorned with the trophies of defeated monsters.
A large fireplace dominates one end of the room, holding a roaring fire. A sword and a shield throne above the mantle, both emitting large quantities of Ether.
The priests enter the room, congregating at a corner table. Ethan scans the other patrons. He''s surprised to find orcs eating and laughing along with human comrades. A humanoid lizard stares at Ethan as his gaze passes over him. A large mastiff-like dog fixates Russ from under a table.
Sylas approaches Ethan, two mugs of ale in hand. "Do you want to take another table? The priests tire me with their conversations," Sylas asks.
Ethan silently moves to another corner table, from which he can see the entrance and have a wall behind his back. As they settle into the new table, the fireplace''s warmth chases away the chill that has begun to seep into their bones.
Sylas leans in slightly, his eyes sparkling with anticipation. "I''ve heard stories, you know? Towers that scrape the sky and markets that stretch as far as the eye can see. Goods from every corner of the world. And the forges ¡" Sylas''s voice trails off momentarily. "They say the forges of the capital exclusively use fire Ether crystal and not coal. That the blades they produce are infused with so much Ether they cannot be broken."
Ethan sips his ale. It is thick, almost hearty, and tastes like grain with a hint of a burnt flavor. ''It''s sweeter than I expected. But the aftertaste is awful,'' Ethan thinks. "Have you never visited your capital?" he asks between sips.
"Well, I''m only going there to inform the regent about the orcs. And to ask for people to rebuild and soldiers to protect us," Sylas says, his voice carrying a hopeful undertone. Yet his fingers tighten around his mug.
"How come you didn''t have any real soldiers to protect you?" Ethan questions.
Sylas''s shoulders slump slightly, his enthusiasm vanishing. "The bright steel mine we have is running out. We''ve extracted lower and lower amounts for five years now, and since then they kind of stopped supporting us." His hands fidget with the mug, spinning it slowly on the table, avoiding Ethan¡¯s gaze.
"Your village stopped being useful, and they left you to die at the first monster raid that came your way? That''s heartless," Ethan says emotionlessly.
Sylas looks down, his eyes fixed on the wooden grain of the table. "Yeah. The chief won''t admit it, but we are pretty much on borrowed time." His voice is softer now, tinged with resignation. "Honestly, I''m thinking of informing the regent of the situation and leaving it at that. Never come back." His words float out hesitantly, as if he''s still wrestling with the decision himself.
"Is there nothing anchoring you there?" Ethan''s question hangs in the air, prompting Sylas to finally lift his gaze.
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His eyes met Ethan¡¯s, carrying a blend of sadness and resolve. "Not really," he whispers, gazing into the void. "I''ll have to retire soon anyway, so I might as well make the most of my remaining time as a Blacksmith, right?"
"Why would you need to retire? You look like you could continue for at least a few more decades," Ethan remarks.
Sylas gives Ethan a puzzled look, tilting his head slightly as if posing an unspoken question. "Because of my talent, I¡¯ll soon reach level twenty-three. I''ll have to stop crafting, or else I''ll be summoned to the Realm of Ascension."
"Do you fear it?" Ethan asks, thinking to himself, ''Is it a dangerous place? Elowen seemed sure I would prevail if I were called there.''
Sylas looks taken aback by Ethan¡¯s question. "Of course, most who enter the Realm either die or lose their sanity. Sometimes, they disappear altogether," he explains.
The bottom of Ethan''s ale is filled with unfiltered residue that sticks to his tongue. "That was an awful ale," he murmurs.
Sylas looks confused. "That''s more than decent," he says, almost outraged by Ethan''s comment.
Ethan smirks. "Where I come from, it would be bitter, but with an even taste and without grime at the bottom," he says with a mocking tone.
Syla''s brows knit together, a flush of indignation coloring his cheeks. He sets his own mug down with force, the liquid sloshing dangerously close to the rim. "You might find it rough," he starts, his voice firm and defensive. "But there''s a lot more to appreciate about this ale than you''re giving it credit for."
He leans forward, a little heated. "Think about the farmer who woke up at dawn to tend the grains. The maltster who sweats over the kiln to get just the right flavor from the malt. The brewer, who mixes these ingredients with generations of skills."
Sylas''s hands gesture animatedly as he speaks. "And the man who transported it here," he continues. "Risking roads filled with bandits and worse, just so we can sit here and enjoy it."
He pauses, catching his breath, his eyes locked on Ethan''s in a challenging stare. Ethan looks at his empty mug, then back at Sylas. "He does taste better now," Ethan quips.
The doors open, letting in a man dressed in ragged armor. His face is drawn and pale, beads of sweat glistening on his forehead despite the cool evening. His armor hangs loosely on his gaunt frame, the metal pieces clinking against each other. His hair sticks to his damp skin in tangled masses. Dark circles mark his bloodshot eyes. His hand, visibly trembling, clutches a worn leather purse.
He approaches the innkeeper, his voice a raspy whisper. "A room, please," he manages to say. He lays his purse on the counter, the sound of the few coins inside making a soft thud.
The innkeeper gives the man a look of pity and concern. She nods, taking the purse and fishing out the necessary coins. "Right this way," she murmurs.
As they walk to the stairs, the sick man leans heavily on the counter. He falls from the counter''s edge to the ground. The priests rush around him. In reflex Sylas moves to help the man, but is stopped by Ethan tugging at his shirt.
"You might want to stay away from him unless you''re immune to diseases," Ethan warns. Contrary to everyone else, the soldier who brought them here is unsurprised by the man''s condition. Ethan exits the building, nodding at the soldier, who doesn''t protest Ethan disobeying his orders. Sylas follows him with Russ.
"Toilet," Ethan says to Russ, who eagerly rushes into the bushes. "If the priests can''t heal him, it would be better for us to split from them."
"What do you mean? Priests can heal everything," Sylas mocks.
"They are going to the capital because of a new disease," Ethan says, insisting on the last two words. He triggers predator''s sight, eavesdropping on the priests.
Inside the tavern, the priests move their hands in intricate patterns. The air fills with their chants, light Ether emanating from their palms. Yet, despite their efforts, the sick man''s condition barely improves. His breathing remains labored, and his entire body is seemingly falling.
The soldier, standing a short distance away, watches the scene with anxiety. Once it''s clear the spells are ineffective, he approaches the priests. "It''s the sickness you''re coming for," he whispers with a solemn tone. "By the time you know you''ve got it, there''s not much that can be done. Most who catch it are poor or even homeless."
A murmur of concern spreads among the listeners. "There''s been talk of hallucinations in the last hours. One day, maybe two, is all they have once the symptoms fully manifest."
"Is it contagious?" the lizardman asks from the edge of the room.
"No one tending to the sick seems to have been contaminated," the soldier whispers to the priests.
''That''s good news, unless it has a long incubation time,'' Ethan thinks.
"We also had cases with horses, dogs, cats, mice, and birds," the soldier adds.
Ethan smirks at the information as the facts fail to add up. "A disease that jumps between humans, dogs, cats, and birds? That''s not just rare; it''s practically unheard of. And then there''s the fact that none of the caregivers caught it. Doesn''t that seem strange to you?" Ethan''s asks Sylas in a low, steady, and rhetorical voice.
"What? How do you know all of that?" Sylas''s frown deepens, his expression filling with concern and curiosity.
"I heard the priests talking," Ethan begins. "I think this is poisoning. The question is, how was he poisoned?" he asks, nodding at the tavern. Ethan senses the priests carrying the man to a room.
''Getting sick with an unknown poison would be disastrous. Even if I go back and get to a doctor, they might not know how to treat me,'' Ethan thinks. ''I wonder, is he grateful enough to do as I say?''
"I need to examine him myself," Ethan says, his voice emotionless. "But they are planning for one of them to stay with him to watch over. I need you to distract him for a few minutes."
Sylas nods hesitantly. "What kind of distraction do you need?"
"It''s simple," Ethan says, dismissing Sylas''s discomfort. "Wait until the other priests have settled down for the night, then go to him under the guise of needing spiritual comfort. Use your village¡¯s demise as bait; it should work well."
Sylas frowns, Ethan''s coldness unsettling him. "Alright, I can do that," he agrees reluctantly, his voice carrying a hint of resignation.
Chapter 35: Affliction
Ethan edges the second-floor window of the room where the ill man rests. Sylas timidly knocks on the door and opens it. "I¡ I cannot find peace tonight," Sylas begins, his voice quivering with feigned distress. "The raid¡ it haunts me. ¡ I''ve been praying, but the fear won''t leave me. Can you¡ could you offer me a blessing outside, under the sky? I feel suffocated within these walls."
The priest sets down a book, nodding gravely. "Of course. If the open air may ease your spirit," he says, guiding Sylas toward the stairs with a hand on his shoulder.
''Well, that worked. It was a bit obvious, but I guess the priest wouldn''t expect Sylas to deceive him,'' Ethan thinks. He slides his combat knife into the separation of the windows, lifting the hook. ''Silent steps,'' he thinks as he enters.
He closes the windows behind him. A single candle that flickers on a bedside table lights the room. The sick man lays motionless, his breathing shallow and labored. His armor rests in a corner.
Ethan approaches cautiously. He checks the man''s eyes, which are dilated and unresponsive. ''The soldier didn''t mention puking; it shouldn''t be something he ingested,'' Ethan thinks. He carefully inspects the man''s skin, searching for any signs or marks. His pallor appears more prominent on his neck, left arm, and left leg. He has numerous scars, but all of them are long healed. ''That one looks like a small gunshot entry wound, weird,'' Ethan notes.
He turns his attention to the man''s belongings. He rifles through a small bag along his armor. His fingers find a few empty vials and pieces of paper. His gaze falls on the man''s armor. Deep gashes from what could only be large claws slice through the breastplate. Fangs punctured the shoulder guards.
Ethan traces his finger along the jagged lines. This armor is thicker than any worn by medieval knights, and the breastplate alone weighs upward of thirty kilos. ''Whatever did that was really strong,'' Ethan thinks. He turns his gaze back to the man. ''He wouldn''t have worn that armor for long. Those are not old scars; he drank a potion to heal himself,'' he guesses.
Ethan returns to the man, triggering predator''s sight to peer into his body. He searches for a foreign body under the gunshot wound. He hears chewing noises coming from under the man''s skin. His stomach tightens at the guttural sound.
Under the dim light of the flickering candle, he notices a slight bulge on the man''s neck, near the healed wound. Grimacing, Ethan unsheathes his combat knife, its blade glinting briefly in the candlelight. He presses the flat side of the blade against the man''s skin, trying to gauge the size of whatever lurks underneath.
The creature inside reacts violently, shifting with such vigor that the man''s neck twitches. A muffled, squelching sound emanates as the creature moves, causing undulation in the skin. Ethan''s disgust mounts, but he suppresses it, focusing on his task.
"Easy there," Ethan mutters, more to himself than to the creature. He makes a small incision above the bulge. The skin parts with a pop. The smell that escapes the new wound is foul ¨C a pungent odor of decay and infection. It overwhelms Ethan''s amplified senses, filling his lungs with pain.
From the incision, the head of a monstrous insect appears. It''s covered in a slick, dark purple carapace, its multiple eyes gleaming dully in the light. The creature''s mandibles click together, oozing a dark, viscous fluid that drips onto the man''s skin.
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Using his knife, Ethan pries the creature further out. It resists, its many legs scrambling against the open air. Finally, with the sound of a bottle''s cork, the insect pops out of the man''s neck. It writhes violently on the blade, its mandibles snapping repeatedly.
The creature launches itself at Ethan, attaching to his left forearm with a sickening crunch. Its sharp mandibles dig into his skin. Ethan gasps in pain, his face contorting as he tries to grasp the writhing insect. The creature''s carapace is slick and covered in fluid. It snaps viciously, cutting into Ethan''s forearm and drawing blood that drips on the floor. A burning sensation radiates up Ethan''s arm.
Ethan grasps his knife tightly with his right hand. He drives the blade directly through his own skin to stab the creature. The insect lets out a high-pitched screech as the blade splits its body. Ethan pushes the knife further, cutting the creature in two and opening his skin. He grabs the remnants of the insect, prying several times to ensure that none of it remains inside. He wraps his bleeding arm with a piece of gauze, stopping the blood flow.
He stares at the two halves of the creature lying on the floor. Disgust and pain wash over him in waves. "I fucking hate insects," he mutters.
Using predator''s sight, Ethan detects two more insects squirming inside the ill man''s body, one in his left arm and another in his leg. They writhe under his skin, screeching as they move. The man awakens with a violent gasp, his body contorting in agony. He thrashes wildly, his eyes wide with terror and confusion. With frenzied movements, he swings his arms through the air, as if wielding an invisible sword, aiming disjointed strikes at Ethan. Just as abruptly as he had awoken, the man''s movements cease. He collapses back onto the bed, his breaths shuddering to a halt and his heart falling silent within moments.
Ethan hears the tenant of the next room waking up. "Did you hear something?" he asks another man sleeping in the same room. Ethan stores the remnants of the creature in an empty potion vial and places a rug on his blood. He reopens the window to exit the room, using his knife to close the rudimentary lock behind him.
Ethan approaches Sylas, who is sitting on a tree stump, his features clouded with worry and sadness. As soon as he sees Ethan¡¯s bandaged forearm, stained with seeping blood, Sylas¡¯s expression turns even graver.
Ethan sighs heavily, his voice calm as he begins to explain. "There''s no helping him now; he''s gone," he states. "Those creatures were inside him. I managed to extract one, but the other killed him soon after I removed it." He holds up the vial containing the insect''s remains as proof.
Sylas flinches at the sight, his voice filled with urgency. "We should tell the priests; they need to know as soon as possible."
Ethan shakes his head, dismissing the idea. "There''s no need. They will understand once they examine his dead body," he counters, his tone firm. He shows his bandaged forearm. "If you have to deal with one, be careful. I had to pluck this one from my own flesh; they''ll resist any attempts to extract them."
Sylas''s brow furrows in consternation. "But what if they remain undetected? The ignorance of their presence among our people, even for a single day, could lead to many more deaths," he voices with concern.
''Making myself more notorious is too dangerous,'' Ethan ruminates in his mind. "Listen, should they fail to uncover their existence, I will warn them after we reach the capital," he reassures.
Sylas''s gaze flickers with uncertainty, subdued by Ethan''s commanding presence. After a moment''s pause, he acquiesces. "Very well," he concedes, resignation coloring his words. He leaves Ethan alone, returning to the tavern.
''Why am I including him so easily in my actions?'' Ethan wonders internally as he watches Sylas disappear. Sylas''s demeanor, honesty, and cunning resonate with Ethan. It is reminiscent of a young man he once mentored.
He recalls the day of training Reaper One, a child soldier found in the remains of a mercenary camp. Ethan sees the same mixture of vulnerability and determination in both of them.
Chapter 36: Grim
As the sun begins its descent towards the horizon, Ethan, Sylas, and the rest of their group are nearing the city of Opal. The city emerges like a behemoth from the sea, its imposing walls standing tall. The group of priests accompanying them rides in silence, their faces etched with worry and exhaustion.
One of the priests keeps checking a jar badly hidden in his bag. He presses on its lid repeatedly, worried that the dead parasites he stored inside could jump out.
The inner buildings of Opal tower above the city. A grand castle commands attention even from a distance. It seems to have been built for a taller and more formidable kind, with its thick walls and its unreasonably high floors.
The clatter of hooves echoes as they transition to a cobblestone road. The distant sounds of the sea reach them, mixing seagull calls and crashing waves. Guards stationed atop the walls and along the gate cast wary glances at the newcomers, their hands holding spears.
An air of tension hangs over the passersby. The flow of travelers and merchants leaving the city largely exceeds the flow of those who wish to enter. The priests accompanying them murmur amongst themselves.
With each step closer to the gate, the sense of unease grows stronger. The guards, their expressions stern, make no move to stop their cart as they see the priests. They eye Ethan and Sylas with suspicion but remain still. Waves of Ether parkour Ethan and windows appear in front of several guards. His heart tightens, but none of them react.
Ethan jumps down from the cart, waving his hand. "See you, Sylas," he says as he moves away.
Sylas moves to the side of the cart closest to Ethan. "Wait, I don''t even know your name," Sylas says. Ethan doesn''t answer, disappearing into the crowd.
''I should disguise myself before going to the adventurer guild, where the artifact should be,'' Ethan thinks. ''Just in case Sylas tells the regent that I came with him, and he sends for me.''
Ethan spots a merchant display filled with dyes and art furniture. He approaches, pointing at what he thinks is henna and indigo. "How much for the black and the blue dyes?"
The merchant lifts his head. "How much do you need?" he asks. Ethan places two empty vials on the display. "Three coppers."
"And would you perhaps have iron salts for sale?"
"Indeed." The merchant pulls out a pouch from behind him. "Five coppers."
Ethan hands the coins to the man and fills the vials from the baskets of powder. Hidden in an alley, he mixes everything in the remains of a water bottle. It turns into a deep black sludge he pours on his ginger hair. As the dye settles on his hair and beard, he summons a small flame in his hand. He heats up the air around him, intensifying the resulting color. He dries up the remaining product from his hair and face with a cloth and examines the result with his phone. His hair and beard turned black.
''Now for the clothes,'' he thinks, spotting an armorer at the other end of the alleyway. He opens its door, entering a small workshop where armor and clothes lie on mannequins.
A man appears from the back of the shop, his face and clothes covered in charcoal stains. "What can I do for you, sir?"
"I need something discrete, yet that can still protect me," Ethan begins. "If possible, something slightly elegant."
The man looks around his shop, where he finds only thick pieces of iron and steel armor. "Would you mind if I customized it for you? It will take a few hours, and I''ll need you here for measurement. I can use bull leather and steel plating for a few silvers, unless you have a bigger budget."
"What do you have for a few golds?" Ethan asks, manipulating two gold coins between his fingers.
The artisan smiles. "I''ve had the skin of a Shade Drake on hand for a while. The average blade will be unable to slash through it."
"I''ll take that," Ethan says.
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The armorer''s eyes light up with excitement. "Excellent choice, sir," he says, gesturing for Ethan to follow him to the back of the shop.
As they approach a large wooden chest, the armorer carefully unlocks it. It contains the sleek, shadowy scaled skin of the beast. He takes measurements of Ethan''s chest, shoulders, waist, arms, and legs. "Should I plan for a margin? Should you gain more muscle or take a bit of weight."
"That won''t be necessary," Ethan answers. "Improving my strength doesn''t seem to enlarge my muscles, and I don''t plan on fattening."
While the armorer works on the armor''s pattern, Ethan takes a moment to examine the Shade Drake skin. Its texture is smooth yet rigid. He can feel the Ether deeply embedded in the material.
After several hours of meticulous work, the armorer presents Ethan with the finished armor. It takes the form of a long coat with a hood, reinforced with steel plates hidden in the chest''s lining. The coat perfectly fits Ethan.
In addition to the coat, the armorer also crafted a shirt and pants from the same skin. The armor is subtle yet elegant, its dark color blending with the shadows.
"If you want more protection we could add a steel breastplate and perhaps chain mail inside the coat." The armorer motions at such pieces.
"Maybe another day," Ethan says. He hands the armorer the two coins. The man''s hands are bloodied, damaged by the pressure he repeatedly uses to pierce the Shade Drake skin.
Ethan exits the building into the night. The streets are dark, lacking any form of public lighting. ''Off to the adventure guild,'' Ethan thinks.
The night air is cool against his slightly wet hair and beard. His new armor doesn''t bother him in the slightest as he moves through the streets. In the darkness of the alleyways, he hardly sees his own clothes.
After asking for directions a few times, Ethan finally arrives at the Adventurer Guild building. From the outside, it appears unassuming, its weathered fa?ade blending with its neighbors''. But as he steps inside, he''s greeted by the lively atmosphere of an oversized tavern.
The interior is bustling with activity. Adventurers of all shapes and sizes recount tales of their missions. The air is thick with the smell of ale and filled with raucous laughter. The building itself is old and often repaired. Its walls are adorned with faded banners and trophies. Tables and chairs are scattered haphazardly across the room. A large hearth crackles with warmth in a corner.
Russ moves to the fire by himself, exhausted from his long day of walking. He tucks himself into a ball at the feet of the chimney. Ethan spots the artifact he''s coming for in another corner. A man clad in plate armor guards it, with a spear in his hand and a sword at his belt. The massive crystal embedded in a stone structure pulsates with a soft blue light.
Ethan navigates his way through the crowd, his appearance drawing curious glances. He feels several waves of Ether passing through him. No one seems to overreact as they read his status. As he approaches the crystal, the guard steps in front of him. "Guild card, please," the man says.
"I''m afraid I don''t have one," Ethan says calmly.
The guard motions at an empty counter. "You have to be an adventurer to use a Waystone. Unless you''ve just lost your card, you can enroll right here."
''She didn''t mention anything about needing to sign in their organization,'' Ethan grumbles inward. He moves to the counter, drawing a few more glances. He finds a bell and presses on it twice.
He can hear movements in a room behind the counter, and moments later, a woman joins him. "Hi, I''m Alara, the guild representative at the Opal Adventurer Guild. Welcome!" Her voice is warm, but she can barely hide the fact that she woke up a minute ago. She scans Ethan from head to toe.
She extends her hand in greeting, her grip firm and confident. "What brings you to our guild? I don''t think I''ve ever seen you around here."
"I need to use your Waystone, but it seems I need to work for you to do so," he replies with a faint smile.
Alara''s smile widens, revealing a glint of mischief in her eyes. "You are certainly welcome to join our ranks. Only adventurers of rank D or above can use our Waystones, but I''m sure you can work your way there."
Ethan sights, his shoulders tensing slightly. "How do you determine one''s rank, if I may ask?" he inquires.
"It depends on your abilities. Typically, a party of four adventurers of a given rank should be able to tackle a dungeon of the same rank," Alara explains, her hands moving as she speaks.
"Do you need to see my Dungeon Conqueror titles to determine my rank?" Ethan asks, already planning on modifying his false status.
"Sadly, because some use the Anonymity ability, we require a test to determine your rank. You may request such an evaluation when you join our guild, and then once every three months," Alara responds.
"And can I request to be tested for a specific rank?" Ethan queries.
"Absolutely," she begins. "But if you fail, you''ll need to wait three months. Furthermore, we''ll only agree for you to take on requests of your rank or lower," she explains, her words carrying a note of caution. "If you''re able to read, we have a pamphlet resuming every rule of the guild," she says, handing a copy to Ethan.
He skims it quickly. The guild promotes neutrality, as their role is to rid the world of monsters and discover its secrets. As such, their services, including the Waystones, will be blocked to any adventurer who is currently in the service of another. ''Interesting, they explicitly state that you can use a pseudonym. I''m going to guess that the rule on neutrality must only be an afterthought for some,'' Ethan observes.
"Very well, I''d like to register," Ethan announces, sliding two copper coins across the counter to cover the listed fees.
"I''ll only need a name and a rank for which you''d like to be tested," Alara prompts.
"Grim, D," Ethan says.
Chapter 37: Grim - Part 2
The sun rises on a training yard found behind the Adventurer Guild. Ethan waits on the side, sleeping lightly. A door opens, waking up both him and Russ. Alara enters the yard, accompanied by a middle-aged man wearing a steel breastplate and leather armor. A sword dangles at his hip, and his back carries a round shield. She''s carrying a rudimentary mug emitting the unmistakable smell of coffee.
The imprints of countless footsteps mark the yard''s sand. Reinforced walls flank it on all sides. Made of cut stones and iron reinforced with Ether, they could withstand modern bombs. Scuff marks and scratches mar their surfaces.
Among the sand, scattered around the yard, Ethan can see the remnants of training dummies and shooting targets. Racks of weapons line one side of the yard. Swords of various sizes gleam in the morning light, alongside axes, spears, maces, and shields. Each weapon is meticulously maintained, with its blade sharpened to a razor''s edge and its shaft polished to a shine.
Nearby, shelves hold an assortment of gear and equipment, such as leather armor, chainmail, and plate armor. Potions rest in their respective containers. ''Aren''t they afraid of being robbed? Or is all this stuff worthless?'' Ethan ponders.
Alara approaches him, putting on a smile. She gestures toward the man beside her. "This is Soren Embervale; he''s one of our examiners and mentors," she introduces, her voice carrying a hint of pride. "He will be conducting your evaluation."
The man nods in greeting, his demeanor casual. "Pleasure to meet you, Grim," he says, his voice steady and measured. "Will your bond participate with you?" he asks.
''Russ, down,'' Ethan orders in his mind. "No," he answers. Ethan enters the yard proper, browsing the longswords.
"If you do not have a weapon fit for sparring, you can borrow one," Elara says.
Ethan pulls a steel longsword. ''I shouldn''t show the blades I have; it could make them suspicious,'' he thinks. He slashes at the air, testing its balance and weight.
"When you are ready," Soren says. He places himself in the center, raising his shield.
''Strengthening,'' Ethan thinks. He places his offhand behind his back, forming a fencing posture.
Soren approaches, ready to deflect Ethan''s first blow. "Are you testing all your adventurers through combat? What do you do with Priests, Mages, or other forms of healers and crafters?" Ethan asks. He scans Soren, finding several vulnerabilities in his guard.
"We are more lenient on those. But in a dungeon, everyone must be able to defend themselves," Soren answers. "You shouldn''t distract yourself during a fight." Soren dashes forward, preparing a thrust from behind his shield.
Ethan visualizes his parry, moving his wrist to deflect the blow. Soren jumps backward, sweat pearling from his forehead. He looks up at Ethan, fear etched on his face. "What happened?" Ethan asks. Russ lifts his head, curious about the situation.
Soren tightens his guard, lowering himself. Curious, Ethan dashes at Soren, arming a strike at his legs. Soren barrels to the side, avoiding a blow that Ethan ultimately restrains.
"What''s happening?" Alara asks.
Soren fixates on Ethan. "Why did you request to be tested as a D rank?!" he yells.
"That''s the highest rank of dungeon I''ve ever conquered. I guessed it was too risky to try C rank," Ethan answers. ''And I didn¡¯t want to attract too much attention. But I guess it''s too late now,'' he thinks.
Soren takes a few steps back, swirling his blade as he tries to calm himself. "I''ve been away from the field for too long. I had forgotten how it feels to be so close to an inevitable blow," he mutters.
"Soren, should we call another examiner? For C rank perhaps," Elara asks.
"No need. I want to do this," Soren says. He restores his posture, drawing Ether from the air as he approaches Ethan. Ethan shuts down Strengthening, worried he could kill Soren.
Soren springs forward, his sword aiming for Ethan''s chest. Ethan''s blade deflects the blow. Soren continues his movement, trying to hurl his shield into Ethan. Ethan dashes to the side, avoiding the blow. Soren spins to face Ethan, barely in time to block a slash with his shield. Ethan''s blade splits the shield, stopping above Soren''s forearm. Soren pulls on his shield, prying the blade from Ethan''s hand.
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With Ethan disarmed, Soren slashes in a wide arc, aiming for Ethan''s side. Ethan moves in, catching Soren''s wrist in his left armpit. The blade pressed against Ethan''s armor, unable to pierce it. Ethan presses with his forearm against Soren''s wrist, and he catches Soren''s right shoulder with his right hand. Ethan''s strength forces Soren to fall to the ground. Soren''s face digs into the ground, his armed hand rendered useless. "Unarmed Combat leveled up."
Ethan loosens his grip, moving to get his sword back from the remains of Soren''s shield. "Again!" Soren yells as he grabs another shield for the racks.
Ethan glances at Elara, who shrugs in response. They both take their stances at arm''s length from each other. Soren waits, planning on deflecting Ethan''s first blow.
Ethan grabs Soren''s shield, tearing its straps from the man''s forearm. Soren tries to shove Ethan with his shield, but the protection is already flying in the air. Soren slashes at Ethan''s from above. Ethan tackles his opponent, spins to avoid the blow, and presses on Soren''s back to amplify the impact on the ground.
As Ethan walks away, Soren stands up once again. His nose is bleeding, and his eyes have turned bloodshot from the sand caught in them. "You won''t pass this exam until you show me what you''re really capable of!" Soren yells.
''Why is he so worked up?'' Ethan ponders, unable to understand Soren''s attitude. "Are you certain? I wasn''t sure at first. But after those few exchanges, I am certain that I could kill you if I don''t restrain myself."
With only his sword in his hands, Soren charges recklessly. Alara''s grip on her mug loosens and her beverage splashes on the ground. ''This is annoying,'' Ethan grumbles internally.
As Soren''s blade arches to strike Ethan, he casts debilitating hex. Soren goes limp, his body moving through inertia alone. Ethan grabs him by the chest plate and hurls him into a wall. ''Strengthening,'' Ethan thinks, consuming as much Ether as possible through it. He thrusts at Soren, his blade causing smoke to erupt as it pierces the wall behind him.
The smoke dissipates alongside Ethan''s hex. Soren turned pale, his teeth chattering as he looks down. Ethan''s blade pierced just below Soren''s armpit, embedding itself into the wall. "Happy?" Ethan murmurs.
Ethan walks away. Passing Alara, he asks, "Where can I get one of these?" He points towards the broken mug lying at her feet.
"I will make you one if you want. I need to make another for myself anyway," she says. "Could you wait inside while we finish the paperwork?" she asks.
"Certainly," Ethan answers. As he pushes the door, he hears a myriad of spying individuals disperse inside the room. He listens to their hushed conversations as he sits down at an empty table. ''Come,'' he thinks, having forgotten Russ in the yard.
"Did he cast a spell? I thought he was a warrior," one asks. "And have you seen his bond status? He''s so strong for just a level four." Waves of Ether parkour Ethan and Russ as windows appear in front of a few of the tenants.
"Anonymity ranked up," the voice announces. ''That''s good,'' Ethan thinks.
"That can''t be his real status; he must be using Anonymity," a patron guesses. "What does his pet''s status lists as his bond?" he asks his neighbor.
"Colin Braddock, just like his status. But I believe Anonymity extends to the bonds," he answers.
"You''re disrespectfully curious," Ethan threatens, his gaze set on the loudest table.
The Waystone''s guard chimes in, "It is forbidden to fight inside the Guild''s establishments."
Ethan smirks. "I know, I''ve read the pamphlet," he reassures the guard.
Alara enters the room, motioning for Ethan to approach the counter. "We''ve decided to rate you as C rank. Please place your hand on this card." She places a gray plate on the counter, engraved with the name ''Grim'', without letting go of it.
Ethan touches the plate, and Alara sends Ether into it. The plate engraves itself with the symbol of the third letter of their alphabet. It turns to a golden color, shimmering slightly.
"The guild card''s turn to a golden color in the hands of their rightful owners," she explains.
"Thank you," Ethan says, moving towards the Waystone. He flashes his card at the guard, who smirks as he moves away. ''Identification,'' Ethan thinks, touching the crystal.
Waystone
With the memories of another Waystone, travelers can be whisked away to their chosen destination.
Using an Anchorstone, one can designate a point to and from which he can teleport. A single Anchorstone can be used by an individual, using another will erase the previous teleportation anchor.
''This is too powerful. It could be used to teleport troops, weapons, supplies, or even simply fret. That must be why they don''t want adventurers to join a faction or country,'' Ethan thinks.
"How much does an Anchorstone costs?" Ethan asks the guard.
"A hundred gold coins," he answers, motioning at a small blue crystal embedded in a steel pendant found behind the counter. "At least here, I can''t say for other countries or cities."
Ethan glances at a board listing every mission entrusted to the guild. C rank missions pay a few gold coins each, but there aren''t even five of them. D rank missions pay around five silvers, but Ethan doesn''t know the conversion rate. ''Elowen must have thought I would help as much as possible. I could always come back later. But I cannot be sure to be teleported anywhere near a guild building with the next dungeon stone,'' Ethan thinks.
He spots one of the D rank missions rewarding a silver for each member of a gang called the Crimson Hand, dead or alive. He goes to pluck it from the board but is stopped by Alara''s voice. "If you want a copy of the quest, I have it right here."
Ethan approaches the counter. "The bounty on the Crimson Hand members," he says.
She quickly checks the paperwork. "D rank, very well. Glad to see someone will finally take care of Opal''s criminality," she says, handing him the paper.
''You''ve no idea,'' he thinks, plans forming in his mind. "Where should I bring them?" he asks.
"Any guard house, or the guild itself,'' she says, waiving him goodbye as he exits the building.
Chapter 38: Criminal enterprise
''The members of the Crimson Hand identify themselves with a crimson hand tattoo, often located under the wrist, or the shoulder,'' Ethan reads. ''Different world, same customs. But seeing the dead or alive note, I guess the guard is way less lenient than the police.''
Using predator''s sight, Ethan listens to the early morning conversations. A crowd bustles in the nearby market, each patron bargaining for their daily meal. The melodic strains of a lute drift through the air, accompanied by the rhythmic tapping of the minstrel''s feet. The steady hammering of blacksmiths and the whirring of spinning wheels resonate from the nearby workshops. Armor clinks and boots thud against the cobblestones as patrols make their rounds. A cat chirps on a roof above Ethan, attracting Russ''s attention.
Ethan''s attention falls upon an alleyway discussion. "Look what we ''ave ''ere," a man says, his pronunciation a mockery of education.
A drunken man stirs slightly, his words slurred. "I haven''t got anything for you; leave me be,'' he mumbles, his voice tinged with fear.
"Nothin'' for us? Now that ain''t very neighborly, is it?" another growls, his voice dripping with malice.
''Hide,'' Ethan orders Russ. Using silent steps, he moves to the roof above the altercation. The three assailants are wearing plain, tattered clothes. They carry hidden daggers in their belts and shoes. One of them bears a hand tattoo on his neck, badly hidden by his shirt. ''Lucky me,'' Ethan thinks.
They kick the man in the face before rummaging through his clothes. They take his coins and a bottle he held in his hand. Careful not to make a sound, Ethan follows their movements. ''Follow, sneak,'' Ethan orders. He leaps from rooftop to rooftop, his movement silenced by his ability. Russ prowls in the streets, keeping his distance.
As they make their way through the crowded street, Ethan goes down into the throng of pedestrians. He ducks into alleyways and slips behind market stalls, limiting their opportunities to see him.
One of them looks behind, and Ethan turns to a merchant''s wares, faking interest. They continue, unknowing of his presence. He tracks them to the docks, where they board a small boat laden with crates. Ethan observes from an alleyway as Russ joins him. They search through the crates and load three onto a waiting cart.
Ethan follows them as they make their way through the streets. They look around at regular intervals, grimacing each time the cart shakes on the uneven road. They come to a stop along a house where they unload the crates.
Ethan scans the building, finding an opened window on the second floor. Through predator''s sight, he sees that the three bandits are discussing with a fourth individual on the first floor. He looks around, making sure no one is watching.
Ethan kneels at the side of the building, placing his hands as if to propel another man. Russ runs at him, leaping towards the second-floor window. Ethan pushes on Russ''s back legs, amplifying his leap by a few meters. Ethan scales the side of the building, his finger finding purchase on the stone bricks. Reaching the window, Ethan enters a bedroom filled with dirty clothes.
"I am telling you, this batch is stronger than the last one. I''m feeling fucking invincible!" the fourth gang member boasts. Ethan''s brow furrows as he listens.
As the conversation continues, Ethan silently slips from the bedroom. He makes his way down the staircase, followed by Russ. ''Hide,'' he orders. Russ lies down behind a chest, listening to the bandits'' discussion.
Ethan enters the room, immediately drawing the bandits'' attention. The three he followed place themselves in front of the one they joined in this building. "Should I assume you outrank the three of them?" Ethan asks calmly.
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"You lost, boy? This ain''t no place for the likes of you," one sneers, his voice dripping with contempt.
Ethan''s gaze meets the leader''s glare with a cold resolve. "I''m exactly where I need to be," he retorts evenly.
The four bandits exchange mocking glances, their laughter echoing through the room. "Listen to ''im. Thinks he''s some kind of hero, do ya?" one of them jeers.
Another bandit''s lips curl into a malicious grin, his hand drawing a dagger. He walks towards Ethan, pointing his blade at Ethan''s jaw. The bandit falls to the ground, his slashed throat painting the lime walls red.
Dark Ether swirls around Ethan as he lowers his dagger to the side. The two other bandits run at him. Ethan stabs the first through the stomach, dragging his blade up his chest to his heart. The second slashes at Ethan''s neck, but he deflects the blow using his coat. He pulls his dagger out and pierces the last assailant''s skull.
As he absorbs the newly formed Ether, Ethan approaches the last man. The bandit tries to run towards the door, but his body falls limp to the ground. The dark tendrils of Ethan''s debilitating hex sap the man''s strength. Ethan drags him to a chair, binding his arms and legs with a nearby rope.
Ethan''s gaze hardens as he leans in closer. "I want information," he says, his tone cold. "Information about your operation. How many members are there in your gang? Where are your assets located? Everything you know."
The bandit hesitates for a moment, trying to avoid Ethan''s gaze. "I''ll tell you nothing; they''ll kill me if I do," he blurts out, his voice strained with desperation.
"There are fates worse than death," Ethan says. He kicks the chair, hurling the man to his back. Ethan cuts out a chunk of a dead bandit''s cotton shirt and tosses it on the man''s face. He grabs a bucket filled with water lying in a corner and slowly pours it.
After a minute, Ethan peals off the cloth. The man gasps for air, and Ethan puts the cloth back on, resuming the flow of water. The bucket empties, and Ethan allows the man to breathe once again.
"How many members are there in the crimson hand?" Ethan asks.
"A hundred! That''s how many I''ve seen when we met," he says between gasping for air and coughing water.
"Good, now tell me about the other places like this one. The buildings you use for your operations," Ethan asks.
The bandit starts crying. "I can''t tell you; they will kill me and my family to make an example," he begs. Ethan puts the cloth back. "No! Please stop! I''m going to die if you continue!" the man implores.
"It seems you don''t have more water in here," Ethan says. "I''ve seen a wheel outside. I''m leaving you with my friend; don''t try to flee or he''ll kill you." Ethan leaves the room. Stopping just beyond the door frame, he thinks, ''Russ, hostage.''
Russ lays down next to the man''s covered head, growling. The bandit twitches at the sound, and Russ barks, biting the air right next to his face. The man cries, pieing his pants. Ethan waits until the man''s starts shaking and thinks, ''Hide.'' Russ returns to his spot as Ethan removes the cloth.
Ethan lifts the man''s chair, sitting him at a table. "Feeling more talkative?" Ethan asks as he sits in front of the man.
"Ok, ok, we use boats owned by a false company, Silver Galleon, to transport drugs from a plantation in the north. We use houses just like this one all around town to temporarily store them before selling them on the streets." He chokes, trying to speak between sobs. "Everything the guys steal, we sell to a man named Cole Delaney; he owns the Gems Emporium and uses it to send what he buys to other cities."
"Anything else?" Ethan asks.
He gasps, snot filling his throat. "We extort shops for protection."
"I need the name of your boss." Ethan''s voice is cold, unchanged by the man''s information.
"I fucking can''t, man. He will gut me if he knows I told you."
Ethan moves behind the man and slashes one of his fingers. Dark Ether rises above the table as the blade draws Ether from the bandits. "I wonder how many fingers it will take for it to consume your life force."
The man tries to grasp his bleeding hand, but his binds hold him to the chair. Ethan draws his dagger alongside the bandit''s arm, slowly draining him of his Ether. Dark veins start appearing from his heart and along his neck. His breaths turn shallow as his skin pales.
"Viktor Blackwood! He''s the one who pays us!" he yells.
"Where can I find him?" Ethan asks.
The man locks his gaze with Ethan''s, shocked by his question. He laughs despite the pain. "You''ve no idea the shit you just walked into. What are you going to do now? You better hide in the deepest, darkest hole you can find. Because when he finds you, you will regret being born."
Ethan smiles. "What am I going to do now? Well, I will do the same I did to you to any other bandit I find until I am certain you told me the truth. And then I will kill your leader and take his place through a proxy. In doing that, I''ll ensure that I have a hand in this city''s criminal world and ample resources at my disposal. Ho, but you won''t be here to see that." Ethan drives his dagger through the man''s skull, ending his life.
Chapter 39: Criminal enterprise - part 2
The sun sets over the horizon as Ethan sits on the roof of a church devoted to Sylphira, the goddess of life. Russ comes to his side, stretching and whining before lying down. Ethan observes a manor hiding behind a tall natural fence through predator''s sight.
''Viktor Blackwood,'' Ethan begins in his mind. ''A rich merchant who rules over the city''s maritime trade as its harbormaster. Talk about a conflict of interest. His name came up enough for him to be more than suspicious,'' he thinks.
Russ lays his head on Ethan''s thigh. "Yeah, I''m going to find you something to eat. Would you like some fish?" Ethan proposes. Russ''s tail wags forcefully as saliva forms at the edges of his maw.
Ethan''s eyes scan the perimeter of Viktor Blackwood''s estate. He observes a steady stream of visitors entering and leaving the estate. Some arrive in luxurious carriages, while others arrive on foot. Ethan takes note of their attire, demeanor, and the frequency of their visits, searching for patterns.
The patrols around the estate maintain a vigilant watch, their footsteps echoing on the cobblestone paths. Ethan observes their routines, noting the rhythmic shift in their routes.
"That''s going to be a pain," he says to Russ. "But if I want to act freely in this world, I need to lay some foundation." He jumps down the roof, landing in the church''s garden. Russ follows him, and Ethan catches him in his fall.
Ethan dusts himself off. "Let''s find you a place to rest for the night," he murmurs. They make their way through the winding streets of the city. ''I''ve made ten silver, or one gold, by bringing eight bandits to the guard and one of their crates. From what I gathered, five copper coins, or half a silver, can afford someone a room and two meals a day,'' he thinks, fidgeting with a coin in his hand.
They come across a modest inn nestled in a quiet corner of a bustling thoroughfare. The sign above the entrance creaks softly in the wind, spelling out the name ''The Silver Hog''.
Ethan nods in approval and leads Russ inside. The innkeeper greets them with a friendly smile. "Welcome, traveler," he says, his voice warm and inviting. "How can I be of service to you this evening?"
Ethan returns the smile. "A room for the night," he replies. "And a hearty meal for both of us. Fish if possible." He gestures to Russ, who wags his tail eagerly at the smells escaping the kitchen.
The innkeeper nods, disappearing into the kitchen for a moment. He comes back with two plates of cooked tuna and leek, accompanied by white bread and an ale. Ethan slides a silver coin as he gives Russ his meal. ''Ok,'' he thinks, allowing Russ to eat.
The innkeeper hands him a bronze key. "And could I get a name for the register?"
"Grim," Ethan answers. The man''s brow furrows, and Ethan places his guild card on the counter. The innkeeper shrugs and inscribes the name.
Ethan mouths a piece of fish; the taste is undeniably that of tuna. ''Our worlds have so many species in common,'' he remarks internally.
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Finishing his meal, Ethan leads Russ up a flight of creaky stairs. They enter the room he rented. Its window overlooks the city streets below. Ethan settles Russ onto the plush bed, unlocking the window should he need to call his companion. "Bedtime," he says to Russ, who rests his head on the blanket.
He exits the inn, moving through the streets toward the Blackwood''s estate. As he approaches his target, he slows his pace, taking note of the guards stationed at the perimeter.
Using the cover of night, Ethan silently slips through the hedge fence of the estate. He spots a lone guard patrolling the outer edge of the property.
Ethan closes the distance between them without a sound. As the guard passes by, Ethan strikes, delivering a swift blow to the back of the man''s head. The guard falls unconscious, and Ethan drags him into the hedge. He strangles him just enough to ensure he will sleep for a few hours.
Ethan searches the guard''s pockets and retrieves his weapons and equipment. He dons the guard''s armor and places his coat in his haversack. He transfers into the guard''s satchels the nearly exhausted vial of Ether potion, his last health potion, and a return stone. Ethan hides the haversack in another part of the hedge.
With the guard''s attire concealing his true identity, Ethan enters the main building. He navigates through the corridors of the manor, his steps silent as he evades the patrols that crisscross the halls. He scans the surroundings with predator''s sight, predicting the movements of the inhabitants.
As he explores further, Ethan stumbles upon a door guarded by two soldiers. His senses tell him that nobody is inside. He slips into another room, opening its window.
Using the outside floor''s edge, Ethan reaches the guarded room''s windows. He opens the first with a flick of his knife, lifting its latch. He silently enters a grand room adorned with opulent furnishings and lavish d¨¦cor. A large ornate desk sits at the feet of the windows, its surface cluttered with scrolls, parchments, and quills.
Ethan begins to search through the papers, meticulously replacing everything in its original position as he moves on. He opens the desk''s drawers, finding nothing but official administrative documents. An incoherence catches Ethan''s attention; one of the drawers is shallower than the others.
He lifts the false bottom, uncovering a book. He flips the page, discovering years of criminal activities'' financial history. ''That checks out. He invested two thousand golds in a plantation five years ago. And three years later, he starts receiving payments for the sales of Invulnara. But the activities of the Crimson Hand are only a small part of his revenues. He must be involved with other criminals,'' Ethan thinks.
Ethan takes pictures of each page. ''He makes recurrent payments to a handful of people. The largest payments go to a woman named Isabella Cruz,'' Ethan notes. ''I should investigate her; if she''s his number two or a big name in his organization, I could use her as a puppet.''
Ethan places back the book and its cover. As swiftly as he entered, he exits the room and the estate. He gets his haversack back and places the armor next to its unconscious owner. ''I trust in you to be too ashamed to report what happened,'' Ethan mocks internally.
As Ethan walks through the dimly lit street, he mulls over his next steps. ''Viktor''s connections must run deep. If I assassinate him, I could attract the attention of dangerous people with abilities far superior to mine. The best way to get rid of him would be to reveal irrefutable proof of criminal activities without destroying what he built.''
Ethan reaches his temporary lodgings for the night. He joins Russ on the bed, petting his dog, who quickly returns to sleep. ''I must sacrifice one of his criminal suborganizations. I can force its leaders to confess and publish evidence of their financial dealings.''
He turns on the bed, trying to find a comfortable position to sleep in. ''I should investigate the names he pays the most, starting with Isabella Cruz,'' he whispers in his mind as sleep comes to him.
Chapter 40: Criminal enterprise - Part 3
Ethan pushes open the Adventurer Guild door. Alara welcomes him with a smile, straightening up behind her desk. Russ lies down in front of the crackling fire, his body frozen by the biting chill of the morning air. Ethan walks up to the counter, placing the quest flier on it. "I''ve already gotten my reward from the guards," he informs Alara.
He glances at the board, searching for any other mentions of gangs or criminal activities. Finding none, he returns to Alara. "Would you perhaps have heard of Tobias Polsted, Edward Longstone, or Isabella Cruz?" A man chokes on his drink as he overhears her name.
"No, why?" Alara answers, narrowing her eyes as she looks at Ethan.
"Nothing too important; the names came up in some of the crimson hand discussions. I guessed they could have been victims of their activities," Ethan explains.
Glancing back at the board, he spots a D ranked quest for the capture of a living parasite. "It came in this morning; it looks ugly," Alara remarks, nodding at the depiction of the creature Ethan met a few nights ago.
"Indeed," he replies, his voice tinged with a hint of unease. "I just came in to return your poster. I have other matters to attend to." With a nod of farewell, he turns and leaves the guild, Russ padding silently behind him.
Outside, Ethan waits near the Adventurer Guild for the man who reacted at the mention of Isabella Cruz. After half an hour, he finally exits the building, and Ethan follows him.
Ethan keeps his distance as he trails the man through the crowded streets of the city. His eyes never leave his target, watching for any signs of suspicion or awareness. As they leave a marketplace, the man leads Ethan through narrow alleyways and dimly lit streets.
The man stops in front of a building tucked away in a secluded corner of the city. "That should be here," Ethan hears the man say. He removes a wooden blank barricading the door and enters.
Ethan scans the building and sees only the man and a host of cat-sized spiders. ''Down,'' he orders before entering the building. The noise of crushed carapaces echoes through the building.
A soft tap on the man''s shoulder sends him spinning around in surprise, his eyes widening in fear as he comes face-to-face with Ethan. "Tell me what you know about Isabella Cruz," Ethan demands, his voice low and menacing.
The man shakes his head, squeezing his eyes to better see Ethan in the barely lit interior. "Fuck! You can''t scare people like that," he begins. "I know nothing about her; leave me alone."
The man returns to his job, finding another spider behind a crate. As he arms his strike, he falls to the ground, debilitated by Ethan''s hex. The spider moves towards his head, cleaning its mandibles with its front paw. "I wonder how much their bite hurts. It would be a shame to be wounded on such a low-ranked mission," Ethan threatens.
The man''s eyes widen in terror as the spider approaches. "You fucking mad! Ok ¡ ok, we did a job for her a while ago, but we didn''t know that she was a smuggler when we did it."
"Tell me where I can find her," Ethan insists, his tone brooking no argument.
"The docks! She has a hideout in the sewers; you can find it by following a skull mark from the output of the docks."
The spider jumps on his face. With a flick of the wrist, Ethan throws a rock that crushes it mid-flight, spreading its body on the floor. He releases his hex, leaving the building.
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As they arrive at the docks, Ethan is greeted by a scene of organized chaos. Ships of all shapes and sizes line the waterfront, their crews bustling as they load and unload cargo. Crates and barrels are hoisted onto waiting carts.
Ethan scans the area, searching for the sewers. As he reaches the edges of the docks, he finds a dark opening in a stone wall. The sewers are large, with paved paths on each side of the stinking flow for maintenance.
Inside the sewers, the air is thick and suffocating. Ethan moves cautiously, using predator''s sight to see through the darkness. The sound of dripping water echoes through the tunnels.
He spots a series of crude skull markings carved into the stone at each intersection. Following the trail of skull marks, Ethan navigates the maze-like sewers, his senses on high alert.
The system is built with a constant slope, enabling the sewage to evacuate without the need for modern pumps. ''That''s pretty good engineering for medieval times,'' Ethan thinks to himself.
He hears movement up ahead, the echo of footsteps reverberating through the tunnel. ''Heel,'' he orders. A beggar appears on the other side of a tunnel.
His skin is sickly pale, his breathing is labored, and his eyes are tired. Focusing on him, Ethan realizes that five parasites live in the man. Ethan switches his focus to the sewage, detecting a few of them slowly swimming inside.
Ethan skirts around the beggar by making a detour and hopping to find another skull. He falls back on his path by taking a right and two lefts and finds another mark. A steel door, etched with a small skull, blocks his path.
He turns the handle, but finds the door locked. ''Strengthening,'' he thinks before kicking the door down. The clatter of metal echoes in the sewers. He hears large claws rushing away, the noise sending shivers down his spine.
Through predator''s sight, he can feel the sources of the creatures whose claws are scratching the ground as they move. But he''s unable to sense their heart or see their shape. ''That''s not what I came for,'' he thinks, already taking a step back.
He hears pained groans coming from afar, beyond the door. Humans, whose bodies are barely alive, lay on the ground or dangle attached to the ceiling.
Ethan draws his Starfell longsword and dagger before walking back to the sewers'' entrance. The faint glow of torchlight flickers in the distance. A group enters the sewers, blocking his escape route.
He walks into a tunnel away from the smugglers'' path, hoping they will pass him without noticing. Their whispers reach him through his heightened senses.
"Can''t believe they brought a Huskstalker from the dark continent; It must have been a pain to capture alive," one whispers.
''What? Those parasites come from the same things I killed in that hospital?'' Ethan asks himself.
"And it will make us a lot of money once Blackwood''s client pays for it," another chimes in.
Ethan hears a low growl echoing from beyond the door, followed by the sound of creatures slithering in the darkness. One comes for him, lunging with its claws, thrashing the air. Using strengthening, Ethan cuts the creature clean in half, sending one half on the wall and the other into the sewage.
"Russ leveled up," the voice announces. Visibly panicked, Russ melts with the surrounding darkness, rendering him almost invisible.
"What was that?!" a smuggler yells.
Another one smacks him in the head. "Shut the fuck up; it''s probably just a beg¨C" His voice is interrupted by the sound of fangs piercing his skull.
Chaos ensues among the smugglers. Their weapons slide across the Huskstalker scales as the beasts'' claws thrash their bodies. Another rushes at Ethan from the fallen door. Ethan casts Flame and sends a jet of fire through the tunnel. The monster rolls on the stone passage, shrieking in pain.
Ethan drives his blade through the creature''s skull. "Russ leveled up," the voice announces.
The five Huskstalkers who killed the smugglers turn back, rushing toward Ethan. They split, taking two passages so as to attack from both sides at once. Ethan rushes for the fallen door, readying another flame spell.
He checks that no other creature waits for him at the door frame and spins around. He casts his spell as precisely as possible and unleashes it as the creatures reach the door. The stream pushes them back, tearing apart their shells as they burst aflame. A gut-wrenching sound resonates through the walls as their forms pop under the intense heat.
"Russ leveled up."
The pile of flaming monsters blocks the door. Ethan hears movements coming from behind him, deeper into the smuggler''s lair. "Fuck," he mutters.
Chapter 41: Hive
With a determined breath, Ethan pushes forward, his amplified senses focused on any signs of approaching threats. Russ pads silently beside him, his eyes gleaming with ferocity as he grows. The narrow tunnel stretches ahead, its walls coated with a slimy residue.
A rumble reverberates through the passage. The sound grows louder, accompanied by the scrape of claws against stone. With a guttural growl, a Huskstalker emerges from the darkness. Russ crouches low, avoiding a blow from the beast''s scorpion tail.
Ethan dodges to the side, avoiding its claws. He retaliates with several strikes, each piercing the monster from front to back. As Ethan pulls back his blade, the beast lies dead.
''How many of them are in there? Should I just wait for the flames to die down and escape from the sewer?'' Ethan doesn''t have the time to answer his own question when another Huskstalker appears. Its claws grab Ethan at the shoulder, hurling him into a wall, unable to pierce his coat.
Russ bites the monster''s tail and pulls. The beast falls to the ground, giving Ethan the opportunity to pierce its skull. Ethan struggles to find his footing on the corpses and advances in the tunnel to find better ground.
''If I burn them down, I''ll suffocate,'' he realizes as he hears two others approaching. He dashes forward to surprise them and impales the first of the two. ''Strengthening,'' he thinks, lifting the monster on his sword and hurling it at its comrade. The second tumbles forward, and Ethan uses the occasion to cleave its head.
Ethan''s heart pounds in his chest as he stands amidst the carnage, the acrid stench of their black blood thick in the air. Smoke forms behind them, unable to find an easy way out. With a quick glance at Russ, who pants heavily beside him, he knows they must press on.
The narrow tunnel stretches before them, its twisting path leading deeper under the city. They arrive in a large cavern sheltering multilayer shacks. A monster springs from above the entrance, hitting Ethan on the shoulder. Its claws do not pierce the armor, but Ethan feels his shoulder''s bones breaking under the force of the impact.
Ethan casts debilitating hex, and the Huskstalker falls to the ground, unable to move. Russ bites it in the throat, pulling and tearing it until its head separates from its torso. Ethan stands up, pulling out a light Ether crystal and casting Heal. His bones defragment, reforming into a healthy joint.
Ethan pauses, scanning the entire cavern with predator''s sight. Eight humans dangle from the ceiling, caught in spider-like cocoons. Three Huskstalkers hide among them, their gazes locked on Ethan and Russ. ''Might as well reward them for staying so nicely still,'' Ethan thinks.
He draws his KS23 from his haversack. ''Piercing shot,'' he thinks as he shoots the first shell. The Huskstalker bursts open, his blood raining down as his body falls to the ground. The two others rush along the walls. ''Piercing shot.'' The second shot tears off its target''s left arm. It falls from the wall on its face in a sickening crack.
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The last Huskstalker leaps on Ethan. ''Strengthening.'' He dashes under the creature, avoiding the blow. As the Huskstalker turns around, Ethan blows its head off. "Russ leveled up. Piercing shot ranked up."
"I''m so glad I took you with me," he whispers to his gun before loading his last three shells. ''Only four shots left,'' he mentally notes.
Ethan slings the shotgun behind his shoulder and descends into the cavern. Human bodies lie scattered on the ground, parts of their skin torn from the inside. Dead parasites rest among them. ''They lay their eggs in people,'' Ethan realizes, bile burning his stomach. ''They must use their stinger. Wait no, the wounds I found do not correspond; they must do it with something else,'' he analyzes.
A squirming parasite jumps on Russ fur. Russ rolls over, jumps as if trying to unhorse a rider, and spins around. "Stop!" Ethan orders, drawing his Glock. Russ freezes at the command, and Ethan blows away the creature before it digs in. "Ok," he says to free Russ from his previous command.
Russ whines, unhappy about this unknown situation. Ethan motion for him to come over and pets him as he scans the surroundings. He feels a tremor and jumps backward, dragging Russ by the collar.
A geyser of dust erupts where they stood moments ago. A massive Huskstalker bearing a crimson shell rises from the pit. With a shriek that shakes the cavern, the colossal monster charges forward. Ethan grabs Russ and throws him into a shack. "Hide!" he orders as he sidesteps to avoid the creature''s massive claws.
With a furious swipe of its tail, it sends Ethan flying across the cavern, his body slamming into the rocky walls with bone-jarring force. Gasping for breath, Ethan struggles to his feet, his vision blurred by pain.
The Huskstalker charges at Ethan, each of its steps a leap that shakes the ground. Still unable to stand, Ethan shoulders his shotgun and shoots at its knee using piercing shot. The projectiles crater into its shell, but the last one goes through, exiting by the side.
The massive creature falls to the ground, its body rolling as it scrapes the rocky floor. It slides across the room through inertia alone and ends its course a meter away from Ethan. It bites the air, moving its arms and clawing at the ground to cross the last meter.
Ethan gathers Ether in his palm and summons a beam of fire directly into the Huskstalker maw. The beast shrieks in agony, trying to move away. The flames grow along his body, and his head suddenly burst, raining warm, goo-like blood on Ethan.
"Russ leveled up," the voice announces, confirming its death.
After drinking his health potion, Ethan finally stands up. ''Come,'' he thinks, and Russ joins him. He pets his dog, who tries to lick his blood-covered face. "I think that was the last one. Now we just need to find proof that Viktor hired them to transport them here," he says to Russ.
Russ whines happily and turns his attention to the center of the cavern. A gunshot shatters the calm, and Russ falls to his side. From the center of the cavern emerges a new Huskstalker. It stands as tall as the standard Huskstalker but with a bulkier frame, its white shell shimmering in Ethan''s predator''s sight. Its left arm is not a claw like the others, but a grotesque bio-gun; composed of fleshy tubes and sphincters.
Its eyes, glowing with an otherworldly intensity, fixate on Ethan with an eerie intelligence. Thick tendrils of mucus drip from her mandibles as she emits a guttural hiss, warning Ethan not to approach her.
As Ethan sees Russ lying on the ground, howling in pain, a wave of fear crashes over him. Every one of his anguished cries pierces Ethan''s heart like a dagger.
Chapter 42: Queen
Ethan grabs his blade, hurling himself at the creature. Its grotesque organic gun shoots a seed-like projectile that scrapes along Ethan''s coat. His blade arcs above its head, and he brings it down, consuming all his Ether through Strengthening.
A metallic snapping sound echoes through the cavern''s walls. His long sword breaks on its skull, sending shrapnel of metal flying in the air. Its feet crash into the ground under the force of the impact.
It slashes at his chest. Its claws pierce Ethan''s armor, digging into his abdomen. He screams, letting out the pain. Ethan hurls his fist at its chest, sending the beast into a wall.
As it stands back up, Ethan focuses on drawing more Ether from his surroundings. He grabs his side with his left hand and casts the Flame spell with the other. The resulting jet of fire engulfs it. Pops echo through the air, above the raging flames, along weak, sharp screeches.
The creature rushes through the fire, thrashing at Ethan, who ducks at the last moment. It''s almost unscathed, with the exception of its left arm, whose organic bags and cables turned to ash.
Ethan draws his dagger and bursts forward, stabbing the creature under its chest. It screeches, recoiling and slashing aimlessly. Ethan continues his assault, avoiding its claws as he drops low and stabs it behind the knee.
Dark Ether forms around the dagger, and Ethan uses it to cast debilitating hex. The monster falls to its knees, unable to move. Ethan rushes it, aiming for its throat.
The dagger exits through its raspy tongue. It bends its head, aggravating the wound but catching Ethan''s forearm. Its teeth lack the strength to pierce Ethan''s armor, but they immobilize his arm. Its tail stabs Ethan''s right leg, and fire spreads through it.
Ethan uses his left hand to grab his dagger from its throat. He pulls it out and stabs it in the eye. The creature opens its maw, and Ethan jumps backward. His right leg refuses to move, and he tumbles to the ground.
The monster jumps on him, pinning him to the ground with its claws. Its stingers impale Ethan''s left arm, spreading its poison into his flesh. It snarls, delighting in its victory. It opens its toothy maw, its body flexing for a final snap at Ethan''s throat.
As the monstrous jaws descend toward Ethan, time seems to slow. Ethan''s sight darkens; in his last moments, he thinks, ''My body fails me. I''d just wish someone would come save Russ.'' A nightmare flashes before his eyes ¨C the prediction that they will both suffer the same fate as the corpses surrounding them.
"Strengthening!" he yells, his heart bursting as he taps into his life force. With superhuman effort, he grabs the monster''s face and slams it into the ground using only his shoulder. Steam rises from his muscles as he twists and stands, still gripping the creature''s face. His enhanced strength cracks its skull as his fingers dig into its shell.
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The creature thrashes blindly, clawing at Ethan''s chest and stabbing the floor. With a guttural war cry, Ethan launches both of them forward. Its body craters into a wall, fracturing its exoskeleton in multiple places.
Drawing on every drop of his life force, Ethan tightens the hold. He runs along the wall, dragging the creature into it and carving the stone. Black ichor splatters on Ethan as the monster screeches in agony.
The monster falls from Ethan''s grip. It lost all its five limbs, lingering as a torso, and a limp head. Ethan falls to his knees as black veins grow along his skin. He grabs his heart, focusing on remaining conscious. ''You can''t go down now!'' he screams in his mind. ''Stand up!''
Ethan stands up, limping towards Russ. His body protests every move, the life force exhaustion, and his wounds draining him of his strength.
Ethan kneels at Russ''s side. His remaining hand shakes as he opens his first-aid kit. Russ whines as a small parasite moves inside of him, lifting his ribs on its path. The wound is mangled and bleeding profusely. He triggers predator''s sight to follow the parasite and see the path it created.
Ethan feels lightheaded, his breath hastening as his sight blurs. He approaches a plier from the wound but stops, unable to calm his shaking hand. Predator''s sight flickers in and out as Ethan loses his focus.
''I will take care of your friend,'' Maelor''s voice echoes in Ethan''s mind. His sight blurs completely, fading to darkness.
Ethan returns, his hands finishing to cast a Heal spell. A parasite lies dead on the ground. Russ stands up, happily licking Ethan''s face. Ethan''s sight darkens once again as his body abandons him. Several announcements echo in his mind, but he fails to understand them. He falls onto his back and into unconsciousness.
Ethan wakes up, his sides, left arm, and right leg screaming in pain. His entire body protests as he sits up. Russ lies down alongside him, his jaws covered in black blood. The fresh corpses of five parasites are scattered around them. Ethan grabs Russ in his arms, dragging him into a hug. Russ wiggles frenetically, licking Ethan''s wounds with worried squeals.
Rubbing his dog''s belly, Ethan thinks, ''Did he just take control? I insulted him, yielded to him that I would expel him from my mind, spat on his faith, and yet he ¨C'' A bloodied screech interrupts Ethan''s thoughts.
The monster lives, even in its mangled and destroyed state. Ethan rises from the ground, with Russ following him closely. He stands above the monster. ''I wonder,'' Ethan thinks. ''Insight.''
Huskstalker queen
Lv.20/20 (Huskstalker) Huskstalker
Lv.19/20 (Huskstalker queen)
Strength: 29 Charisma: 0
Dexterity: 31 Perception: 27
Constitution: 30 Willpower: 12
Intelligence: 8
Talent
Nullified presence
Abilities
Iron skin (E)
Silent steps (D)
Territory (F)
"That''s what I thought; you''re their queen," Ethan mutters. "Is your race your class? And if so, how do you have two of them?" He pauses as he thinks of his conversation with Elowen. "Are monsters able to visit the Realm of Ascension? I should obtain more information; perhaps in a public library," he whispers.
Ethan sighs, looking around for a crate. "That doesn''t matter. Right now, I have a new plan that includes you," he says as he spots an imposing steel cage at the edge of a shack.
Chapter 43: Last details
"How are you still alive?" Ethan''s armorer asks as he passes his hand through the coat''s and shirt''s gaping holes. "And what attacked you?"
Ethan raises his gaze from the book he rented from a librarian. "It attacked me in the dark; I didn''t get a good look," Ethan begins. "And my wounds are already scarring; I had a few drops of health potion left, and my constitution is pretty high." The Huskstalker''s claws dug into his abs and obliques but did not hit internal organs.
"You''re fucking lucky; that''s what happened. And don''t think I don''t know what those marks on your neck are," the armorer growls as he takes his sewing tools out.
"Why are you so worried about me? I don''t even know your name." Ethan flips a page, returning to his reading. ''When a monster reaches the highest level for their class, they may experience a form of hibernation. They may exit unchanged or evolve into a higher form of existence. As is the case for humans and other sentient species, they may die during the process or turn crazed by it,'' Ethan reads internally. ''May, may, may. There are no certainties in this book.''
"Aldwin," the armored says. "I have to replace a steel plate, and I have to do patchwork with the bits of leather I still have. It will take an hour or so. That will be five coppers; you can pay when you retrieve it."
Ethan slides a silver on Aldwin''s workbench. "By the way, is there a good weapon smith you would recommend? I broke my sword."
"You need to take better care of your tools," Aldwin grumbles. "In the inner city, there is a shop called the Hammered Heart Smithy. The owner is getting old, but he has some good blades for sale. However, someone like you will need a custom order; you''re going to have to wait a few months."
Ethan sighs. "Thanks; I will come back this afternoon," he says as he snaps his book shut.
"Wait, you forgot your change," Aldwin says.
Ethan smirks as he moves away. "That''s a tip, for your discretion about my patronage," he says, before disappearing through the front door.
With grime splattered on his clothes and his hair messed up by water, Ethan drags a cart through the streets. He moved his jaw and loosened his facial muscles, giving himself a weaker, dumber look. He lowered his shoulders, placing them inward to hide his frame.
The cart he pulls holds a wooden crate containing the cage of the Huskstalker queen. He moves slowly, but at an even pace, so as not to draw any attention. Soon, he reaches the back section of the Blackwood estate.
Two guards protecting a cellar''s door spot him. One of them raises his hand towards him and yells, "Halt!" Ethan stops, letting go of the cart.
"What is your business here?" the other guard asks. He approaches Ethan, his hand on the handle of his sword.
Ethan alters his voice, making it raspy, mispronouncing words, and adopting the local accent. "I have a special delivery for Viktor Blackwood, an exotic animal."
They glance at each other, looking perplexed. One of the guards leaves his post, walking towards a door. The other gets close to Ethan. "Don''t move; we''ll sort this out," he says.
"I''ve got many other affairs to attend to. I''ve made my delivery; I should go now," Ethan says, feinting a hint of fear. He turns around and begins walking away.
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The guard kicks him in the back, and Ethan feints to fall and tumble. "I ordered you to not move!" he yells. He drags Ethan to the side, sitting him down.
Keeping his gaze down, Ethan triggers predator''s sight. Two new individuals are coming towards them, accompanied by the guard who left. One of them wears numerous items emitting Ether ¨C rings on his fingers, a necklace, even his vestments.
"Lord Blackwood, I was totally unaware that those low-life smugglers would bring it here instead of the arena," the second man pleads. He sounds old.
Viktor''s heart rate hastens as anger boils inside of him. "You''ll send Isabella her porter''s head along with a summons. I''ll make sure that this never happens again," he grumbles.
"Yes, yes, my lord," his interlocutor answers sheepishly. "It is a good thing that Bran was on duty. But what will we do with Merek? He saw the crate."
"Burn him to ashes; I don''t need a witness," Viktor orders, raising the tension of the guard escorting them.
They open the door, through which the guard previously left. As his warden glances towards the opening door, Ethan stands up. ''Strengthening, Silent steps,'' he thinks before silently dashing into a nearby street.
Viktor Blackwood towers over the two guards, his imposing stature and muscular build making him appear twice their size. His expression is stern and calculating, accentuated by his slicked-back, jet-black hair. He''s sharply dressed in a dark blazer, detailed with intricate crimson embroidery. His cold gaze sweeps over the bewildered guard, who frantically scans the area for Ethan.
Accompanying him is an old man, thin and crooked. His long, gray hair flows untidily, framing a face marked by burn scars. His eyes, however, gleam with a sharp cunning. As Ethan observes from his concealed spot, he sees the old man quiver slightly under Viktor''s gaze.
The guard who failed to detain Ethan stammers, "Lord Blackwood, the man with the cart was just here. He couldn¡¯t have gotten far."
Viktor''s gaze sharpens, and a vein throbs at his temple. He turns to face the old man, his voice low and menacing. "Take care of this," he commands.
The old man nods before turning to the panicked guard. With a subtle motion of his right hand, he unleashes a jet of white flame. The guard has no time to scream; his flesh vaporizes in an instant, his bones and armor lingering only moments longer. The old man approaches the scorched earth, summoning a fine, gleaming green dust. Grass rapidly sprouts, restoring the patch to its former verdant state.
Turning his attention to the cart, Viktor forcefully lifts the crate''s lid, ignoring the nails that secure it. He peers inside, and a window appears before his eyes. His face betrays a moment of concern as a bead of sweat forms on his forehead. He abruptly shuts the lid and steps back. "Get this to the arena," he commands the remaining guard. "This is going to be our most profitable auction."
Viktor and his mage disappear into the estate. Frightened, the guard stares at the space where his comrade was standing seconds ago. ''That''s one way to get fired from your job,'' Ethan internally mocks.
The guard removes his armor that bears the mark of the estate. Keeping only his cotton civilian attire, he starts pulling the cart. Ethan follows him in the city''s streets, using predator''s sight to track him from afar.
He guides Ethan to the outskirts of the city. The guard drags the cart inside an abandoned tavern building. Through the walls, Ethan can sense him opening a hidden door. The man soon disappears underground.
''Now that I know where the exchange, or auction, will happen, I need to get the guard to come and arrest them,'' Ethan thinks. ''But I can''t just warn one of the garrisons, as he has more than probably bought their senior officers.''
Ethan makes his way back to the inn where he left Russ, crossing paths with a courier office. Inside, a clerk is napping at his desk. Ethan clears his throat. "How quickly can you deliver a letter within the city?"
Startled, the clerk blinks awake. "For urgent deliveries, we dispatch immediately, costing five coppers. Otherwise, it''s a copper for next-day delivery; we run routes every morning. Prices may vary with the letter''s weight and volume. Delivery might take longer if the address isn¡¯t residential," he explains hastily.
Ethan takes out eight letters. "These need to reach the names listed on them. But I¡¯d like them delayed by a day," he suggests, sliding over eight coppers and a silver coin.
"Absolutely, Sir," the clerk responds, accepting the letters and the money. "May I have your name, just in case there¡¯s an issue finding any recipients?" He looks up, only to see that Ethan has already disappeared.
Chapter 44: Auction
Ethan''s armored coat floats in the wind as he watches the decrepit tavern from a roof. People enter it in small groups, each paying a fee to a guard disguised as a beggar before entering the secret passage.
''Around a hundred people,'' Ethan summarizes. ''I haven''t seen Viktor, nor his mage. Unless they delegate the event, they should have another way in and out.'' Ethan waits a few more minutes, ensuring that tonight''s visitors have all already arrived.
He drops from the roof, landing next to Russ. ''Follow,'' he orders before moving towards the tavern. Several people are watching the perimeter, but their formation has several blind spots. Ethan navigates through them to reach the tavern undetected. He opens the door in a soft movement, immediately moving towards the beggar.
Ethan places his hand down to drop a coin into the beggar''s hands. Ethan lets go of a copper coin, and the beggar raises his head. Ethan stabs the man''s brain through his jaw, creating whisps of dark Ether he absorbs. He drags the corpse into a dark, hidden corner of the tavern before pulling his dagger out.
Russ uses his paw to move a piece of wood that was sitting next to the beggar. He reveals a leather pouch filled with silver coins. "You found that to? That''s a good boy," Ethan whispers before pouring the coins into his haversack.
Ethan approaches the location of the hidden passage. Activating predator''s sight, he scans the area, spotting handprints still warm on an iron torch holder. He grips it, twisting and pulling in different directions until it finally rotates. With a soft click, a section of a wooden wall swings open, revealing wide stone stairs flanked by rails on each side, designed for carts.
The stairs lead Ethan twenty meters underground to an old arching tunnel. He can hear clammers coming from afar. He passes in front of a large prison gate built on the side of the tunnel. The lock is crude, and Ethan opens it with his dagger.
Closing the gate behind him, Ethan senses the figures of monsters further inside. ''Sneak,'' he orders. Russ melts in the surrounding shadows, becoming almost invisible. They arrive in a large room, lit by torches, where imposing cages hold various monsters. An imposing wooden door lies closed at the other end of the room.
Among these creatures are gaunt goblins, their skin clinging tightly over their bones. A pair of creatures like the one Ethan killed in his parking, their muscular frames now washed away. A massive, fat, and pustulated humanoid scratches at the ground. Giant spiders skittishly hiss at Ethan, recoiling into the corner of their cage.
"You aren''t one of them," the pustulated giant says. Its voice is deep and gravelly, rasping through the stale air. Ethan turns his gaze, shocked by its sentience. Ethan approaches the cage and thinks, ''Insight.''
Thrumm
Lv.11/20 (Troll) Troll
Strength: 27 Charisma: 3
Dexterity: 10 Perception: 14
Constitution: 30 Willpower: 12
Intelligence: 12
Abilities
Regeneration (D)
"You are the first monster I met who can speak," Ethan says. ''Well, perhaps I already met one of them,'' he thinks. "Tell me, Thrumm, what do you know about this place?"
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The troll nears the edge of its cage. "They make us fight against other monsters and against the humies they don''t like. If we win, we go back to the cage; if we don''t, we feed the others," he explains.
"So, you''re a gladiator," Ethan says. He falls silent for a moment, thinking. ''If I set him out in the city, it will draw the guards, but they may not find the entrance in time. Perhaps I could use it ¡ him to prompt them to call reinforcements.''
Ethan glances at a wall, spotting keys hanging on it. "If you promise to not attack anyone, I can get you out of the city," Ethan says.
The troll looks perplexed, gauging Ethan''s ulterior motives. "I am hungry," the troll says.
"I killed a bandit coming here; you can eat him," Ethan informs. Thrumm salivates at his words. Ethan listens further into the original tunnel through predator''s sight. Clamors erupt as a beast lets out a guttural roar.
Ethan grabs the keys and unlocks Thrumm''s cage. Opening its door, Ethan casts debilitating hex. He tunes it to only reduce Thrumm''s strength without immobilizing him. "Just a little insurance," Ethan says.
Without a word, Thrumm follows Ethan to the tavern. "Wait here; I''ll make sure the way is clear. Your meal is in this corner," he says before exiting the decrepit building.
Using Silent steps, Ethan rushes through the streets, taking out Viktor''s lookouts in a flash. As Russ ends the last of them, Ethan stores his armor and masquerades as his weak self. "Sneak," he orders Russ before rushing to a squad of guards.
The five guards raise their weapons at him, and he stops. Feinting to breathe heavily, Ethan says, "There is a monster in that building; it''s eating somebody alive!"
The guards look at each other and run towards the tavern. As they kick in the door, they freeze in their tracks. Thrumm is crouched in a dark corner, his hands ripping through the bandit''s corpse. The sounds of flesh tearing and bones crunching under his teeth send visible chills through their bodies.
The first guard''s face contorts in disgust, his hand rising to shield his nose from the stench of the troll. Another guard gags, turning his head away to puke. ''That''s not that horrible,'' Ethan thinks. ''Or is it just us who are too accustomed to that kind of stench?''
Russ whines as if confirming Ethan''s doubts. One of the guards throws his spear at the troll, piercing his left forearm. Thrumm roars in pain and rushes the guard, pulverizing the tavern''s storefront.
"Go get reinforcements!" their leader yells at the youngest of the guards, who runs off into a nearby street. Thrumm breaks off the spear, and his wound closes.
"Fire! We need fire!" one of the guards yells.
''Ho yeah, I remember. One time I was playing a game with One, and we faced a troll. It kept regenerating, even after we killed it, until One threw a fireball at it,'' Ethan recalls.
Thrumm grabs one of the guards by the chest and crushes him, squeezing his blood onto the others. "Leave Thrumm alone!" he roars. Another guard stabs him in the crotch with his spear. Thrumm hurls his fist at him, sending him through a building.
"Ouch!" Ethan sighs. He closes his eyes, forming the runes of the Flame spell with precision. Instead of letting it shape into a cone, Ethan wills it into a small sphere.
"Ether manipulation leveled up," the voice announces as Ethan throws the burning sphere. It hits Thrumm''s shoulder and breaks into a wave of fire.
The flames engulf Thrumm''s frame. He hurls himself to the ground, rolling into the stone pavement to extinguish himself. The guards stab him repeatedly; a blow to the head ends his life. The fire continues to spread on his body as the guards watch.
"You leveled up. Russ leveled up."
The guards turn to the source of the fire spell, but Ethan has already left. Ethan enters the building where one of the soldiers lies dead. He moves him to a dark alleyway, removing his armor to disguise himself as soldier. ''They''ll think he survived and went to get treated. At least until tomorrow morning,'' Ethan thinks as he hides his face with the guard''s helmet.
He bends to the guard''s level, closing the dead man''s eyes. "I''m sorry, I thought the guards would be stronger," he mutters before moving closer to the tavern.
Several squads arrive, accompanied by what seem to be adventurers. Some watch as the corpse burns; others enter the tavern. "There is a tunnel in there," one yells.
Chapter 45: Auction - Part 2
The guards enter the tunnel, moving slowly with their shields raised. Ethan follows them alongside a few young adventurers, feinting to close their formation.
Russ creeps stealthily along a wall, using all his class''s abilities. His recently gained Camouflage, enhanced by Shadow Blend, renders him invisible to the unaided eye.
''He changes colors depending on what surrounds him. He adapted to his new ability so fast,'' Ethan mentally praises.
They pass the gate that leads to the monsters, and one of the squads splits to explore it.
Clamors erupt from afar, and the guards stop. "What is this?" one of them asks. "This isn''t the clamor of trolls; they sound ¡ human."
The frontliners reach the tunnel''s end. Their eyes widen in surprise as they emerge onto stone tribunes overlooking an arena. A man''s voice echoes from its core.
"Ladies and gentlemen," he begins. "We hope you enjoyed tonight''s fights. I still cannot believe how long our too-curious adventure stayed alive while being eaten."
The guards look around the arena, finding pools of blood seeping into its sand. "Go get more reinforcements," one of the leaders whispers to a guard. The soldier runs back into the tunnel.
"Now, some of you will soon be proud owners of some of the world''s most dangerous predators." He motions towards the opening arena''s gate. Two men push the crate containing the Huskstalker queen to the arena''s center. "For our first piece, you were promised a Huskstalker, and we went above and beyond. I bring before you an evolved Huskstalker queen!"
The men who were pushing the crate open it, revealing the cage. The queen jumps at its bars, biting into them. The crowd gasps at the sight, clapping their hands.
As the guards focus on the scene, Ethan scans the crowd through predator''s sight. Above the arena''s gate, he finds a room where Viktor Blackwood is sitting, along with his mage and a large animal. His room has a balcony, on which two guards stand sentinels.
''Perfect,'' Ethan thinks. ''I spent my last light Ether crystal on you. I hope you''ll play your role to perfection.''
He hears sounds of combat coming from far behind Viktor''s room. The guards are fighting Viktor''s men. ''There''s a way to his room, pass the monsters,'' he thinks before leaving the group.
The announcer approaches the crate. "The bidding begins at twenty golds; make your offers!"
The spectators yell increasingly absurd prices at the disbelief of the guards. "Forty golds!" "A hundred!" "A hundred and twenty!" "Five hundred!"
''A decent yearly salary here is around twenty gold a year,'' Ethan thinks as he reaches the gate. ''They are basically willing to spend millions to get it.''
A gunshot thunders through the arena. The spectators gasp as the announcer falls to the ground. Another gunshot rings as the queen propels a parasite into a spectator''s chest. They rise from their seats and run towards the tunnel.
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The spectators freeze and stammer as they see the guards. One of Viktor''s soldiers draws his sword and charges the only guard he sees. An adventurer loses an arrow, killing the attacker on the spot.
The spectators fumble backward as the queen''s screeches grow louder. A magic sphere appears around it, and Viktor''s voice thunders from his room. "Stop panicking! The situation is under control!" he barks.
The crowd''s screams continue, and he steps onto his room''s balcony. His tension spikes as he sees the guards and adventurers pouring out of the tunnel.
"On your knees!" a guard yells. He bashes a man with his shield, propelling him to the ground. Viktor''s soldiers run at them from the tribunes and engage in close combat. The guards, more numerous and helped by adventurers, take the upper hand.
Crackling thunder fills the arena as lightning bolts sweep over the guards. Many, including some spectators, die instantly to the spell. Viktor''s mage begins to cast another spell from the balcony when the doors behind them fly open.
The separated squad enters in his room. "Hands where I can see them!" a guard yells. The animal beside Viktor springs at the yelling guard and drags him into the tunnel he came from. The other guards recoil in fear as the mage redirects his spell. They rush him, but he unleashes lightning bolts that pierce their bodies, scorch their flesh, and stop their hearts.
Ethan stops a few dozen meters away from Viktor''s room. ''They all died?!'' he thinks. ''Their reinforcements are barely entering the tavern. If Viktor leaves now, there will be no witness to his presence.''
''Stop,'' Ethan orders. He draws as much Ether as possible through Strengthening and barges into the room. His steps turn the stone floor to sand as he grabs Viktor by the blazer and drags him into the arena. Ethan is moving too fast for the mage to react.
Viktor Blackwood rolls in the sand as Ethan slides to a stop. Viktor kicks the ground and spins to regain his footing. As he stares at Ethan, his eyes gleam bright blue.
"You are not a guard; no guard can absorb Ether like that," he giggles. He glances at the crowd, which stares at him with shock. A ring on his finger emits Ether, and a black longsword appears in his right hand. Bright red veins crack the blade from the guard, where sits a blood-like gem.
Ethan draws the sword he took from the guard. ''He will cut right through it,'' Ethan thinks. They both take a stance as the mage watches them. ''He won''t risk Viktor''s life with a lightning bolt,'' Ethan reassures himself.
Viktor moves forward, his blade aimed at Ethan''s chest. Ethan parries, but Viktor''s blade cuts his. Expecting such a thing, Ethan drops his sword and spins around Viktor''s side.
"Melee Weapon (Dagger) leveled up," the voice announces. Viktor grasps his side as Ethan hides his dagger behind his forearm.
The necklace around Viktor''s neck glows with a green light, and his wound closes. "I haven''t had a quality toy for years," Viktor mocks. "I''ll make sure you die screaming. Weapon aura"
Red strands appear along Viktor''s right arm and blade. He slashes the air and propels them at Ethan. The strands turn into waves that cut the ground in the prolongation of his attacks. Ethan rolls to the side, dogging the blows.
"Aura of dread," Viktor mutters. The world turns black and cold. A pair of murderous eyes replace Viktor, staring at Ethan. His heart hastens, his stomach churns, his throat tightens, and his skin shivers as Ethan''s legs refuse to take another step.
A wave of Ether cuts the air towards Ethan. He unsuccessfully urges his body to move. Something kicks Ethan in the chest, propelling him to the ground, away from Viktor''s attack.
"Mind if I cut in?" a feminine voice asks. The world''s colors return as Ethan stands up. The spectators, the guards, Viktor''s soldiers, and his mage fall to their knees. Beads of sweat pearl from their pale heads as they stare into the void.
A woman stands where Ethan was ¨C tall and with a gymnast physique. She hides under a white cape made of light fabric that covers leather armor. She holds a thin, long sword in her right hand, whose blade is engraved with glowing golden runes.
Chapter 46: Auction - Part 3
"Stand down, Thea; this situation is a gross misunderstanding," Viktor says. He tries to calm his voice as he addresses her.
"What is happening here is evident, Viktor," she begins. "You would do better to surrender. Perhaps my father will show you mercy if you cooperate."
Viktor''s grip tightens on his sword. He growls as veins thump on his temple. A ring shatters from Viktor''s left hand, and in a flash of light, three figures appear alongside him: his mage and two soldiers clad in thick black plate armor. The soldiers look around and draw their swords.
"You''re strong; handle the two soldiers," Thea orders Ethan. She passes her hand over her blade, coating it in translucent white flames. She runs forward, avoiding and passing through the two soldiers, to reach Viktor.
Viktor raises his left fist towards Thea, and a ruby shines on one of his rings. A beam of fire shoots towards her, and she rushes into it. She slashes the spell, splitting the beam and dispelling it as the Ether on her blade consumes the fire.
''Like I''ll risk my life any further,'' Ethan thinks. ''Time to go; I have a building to burn.'' A wave of Ether passes through him, and a window appears before the mage. Ethan glances at him to see the mage''s mouth open in shock. ''Fuck.''
Ethan grabs a handful of sand from the ground and charges the soldiers. The first of them strikes in a wide arc as Ethan appears weaponless. Ethan stops just out of the soldiers reach, avoiding the blow. He hurls the sand into the soldier''s face, and capitalizing on the momentary cecity, he grabs his sword''s handle. Ethan pulls to expose the soldier''s wrist and stabs it with his dagger.
The soldier lets go of his blade, falling to his knees as he holds his sectioned wrist. Ethan reverses his grip to hold the blade correctly and parries the second soldier. ''Strengthening,'' Ethan thinks before kicking his opponent in the thigh. The blow lifts the soldier, sending him to the ground after an aerial spin.
A shadow jumps from the balcony, landing meters away from Ethan. It unfurls to reveal a gargantuan feline sporting slick black fur. Its limbs are thick and powerful, tipped with oversized claws curved like daggers. Its mouth reveals an array of giant, sharp teeth. Its snarl reverberates through the arena, a menacing growl that chills Ethan''s bones.
"Yes, kill him! Tear his flesh!" Viktor orders as he parries one of Thea''s attacks.
The creature recoils, swiping at the air like a scarred cat, despite his Siberian tiger size. ''I told you to stay up there, didn''t I,'' Ethan thinks, sensing a larger creature moving behind him.
Russ, enlarged to a bigger size than his opponent, curls around Ethan, baring his teeth at the feline. His fur is like sand, hiding his exact form and features. His growl fills the arena, frightening not only Viktor''s bond but also the Huskstalker queen.
The feline leaps onto the balcony, running away from Russ. The mage raises his gaze from Ethan''s status, stupor etching his face. He summons a cone of white flame towards Ethan and Russ, but Thea cuts it with her blade. Her counter sends flames back to the mage, whose tunic catches fire.
''Kill,'' Ethan thinks, motioning at the two downed guards. Russ jumps on them, and Ethan runs towards the mage. As Ethan''s blade falls on the mage, he conjures a shield that deflects the blow. Behind his protection, he casts white flames and pursues Ethan with their flux as he runs around the mage.
In a motion aimed at Viktor, Thea grazes the mage shield, dispelling it. Ethan slashes at the mage''s throat, but he places his casting hand in the way. The flames melt Ethan''s sword instantly. Twisting his torso to avoid the spell, Ethan stabs his dagger into the mage''s heart.
Ethan jumps back and looks around, planning his escape route. The mage draws in the dark Ether released by Ethan''s dagger, casting a spell on himself. A glowing green scar replaces his gaping wound. He stands back up and incantates another spell.
Thea slashes at the mage, but Viktor blocks her. Souls emerge from the bodies of the soldiers, guards, and spectators, drawn into the mage''s hand. Their laments fill the arena as the surrounding torches dim.
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Ethan runs at the mage, aiming for his head. Viktor blocks Ethan''s dagger and kicks him in the chest, propelling him backward. The souls held in the mage''s palm vanish. A wind blows out the torches, plunging the arena into darkness.
Snarls and screeches grow from every corner of the arena, and the torches light back up. Their flames are weak but suffice to illuminate a horde of bizarre beings, each with too many eyes, mouths, and limbs. They jump at the spectators, tearing them apart with gut-wrenching ease.
"Demons!" Thea growls as she breaks contact with Viktor to approach Ethan. "Are you mad, old foul!? You will die with us!" she yells at the mage.
"Foul?! I''ve mastered arcanes far beyond your imagination; I''ve gazed into the abyss of magic and bound those beasts to my will!" the mage yells. His deranged giggles fill the arena.
Four demons close in on Ethan, Russ, and Thea, baring their teeth at them and snarling. Their mouths open and snap close in an echoing cacophony.
"If we kill Akeron, the demons will lose their anchor to our world and disappear," Thea whispers. "Block Viktor; I''ll need only one strike to end his mage. Good luck, soldier."
Thea runs at the mage, preparing a lethal strike with her gaze locked on his hands. Akeron summons lightning bolts that strike her blade, slowing her down.
Ethan observes Viktor''s stance. ''He''s waiting for me,'' he realizes. Ethan pulls out the Abyss Watcher blade and stabs the nearest demon. Its flesh sizzles on the blade as it writhes and screeches.
''Strengthening,'' Ethan thinks, lifting the demon with his blade and hurling it at Viktor. ''I need to end him in a single blow.'' Ethan halts from drawing Ether into his body.
Ethan runs behind the flying demon, hiding from Viktor. He uses predator''s sight to track his opponent''s movements, despite the lack of line of sight.
"Weapon aura," Viktor mutters. He slashes the air, cutting through the demon. Ethan contorts and spins, dodging the Etheric blows.
Ethan''s heart empties of Ether, and he willingly draws from his life force. The raw power feeds his Strengthening ability, propelling him forward in a burst of sand as he takes another step.
Ethan''s dagger collides with Viktor''s sword. Skipping against the long sword, Ethan catches it with Dark Fate''s serrated spine. Viktor''s arms bend under the force of the impact, and his right triceps snap. Ethan stabs Viktor in the sternum, the blade of the dagger reaching deep into his chest.
Viktor switches his sword into his left hand and swings at Ethan. Ethan draws in Ether to halt the use of life force, pulls his dagger, and deflects Viktor''s arm with an upward motion of his elbow.
"Aura of ¨C" Ethan stabs his left fingers into Viktor''s throat, shutting him up. In shock, Viktor drops his sword and place his arm to protect his throat. Ethan digs his left foot into the ground and kicks Viktor in the lower chest, crushing his ribs, right kidney, liver, and stomach. Viktor bends over the point of impact, his body flying into the Huskstalker queen''s cage.
"Unarmed combat leveled up," the voice announces.
Thea reaches Akeron, swinging for his throat. He moves his hand in an upward motion, and ice spears spring from the ground. One pierces Thea''s leg, stopping her charge. She screams in pain and slashes the spear, shattering it into mist.
She limps toward Akeron as he summons more lightning bolts. She slashes at the spell, sending the electric arcs back at him and burning his flesh. His face contorts in pain as he grabs his heart, and he falls backward. Thea beheads him in a swift motion. His head rolls in the sand, looking at Ethan. His mouth speaks a silent sentence, and life leaves his gaze.
The lights flicker, and the demons vanish, leaving behind their frightened or scattered victims. Thea yells, "It''s over, Viktor; order your men to stop fighting and surrender yourself!"
Viktor stands up, his right arm hanging at his side. His blade lies in the sand, a few meters away from Ethan. He giggles, coughing blood between laughs. A gunshot echoes; the queen propelled a parasite into his leg. He grabs the cage with his left hand and throws it over Thea and Ethan.
The cage crashes into the sand, its gate opening under the impact. "You''d do well to care for your own survival," Viktor mocks. The queen exits its cage, screeching at them. Its gaze falls on Ethan, and it recoils, thrashing at the air. It glances around and runs off to a corner of the arena, clawing at the ground to dig through it.
Guards coming down from the tribunes enter the arena, approaching Viktor. Thea turns to Ethan, barely in time to see him leap onto the balcony.
''I exposed myself too much,'' Ethan thinks as Russ joins him. ''I should lay low until my last day here, buy the Anchorstone, and leave.''
"Stay here!" Thea orders. She steps towards the balcony, but the screeches of the Huskstalker queen stop her. The queen reemerged from the ground, snarling hungrily at the guards.
Ethan and Russ leave the underground arena. He discards his disguise and disappears into the streets as guards swarm the tunnel.
The flying embers of Blackwood''s estate light up the night sky. Ethan observes it from afar, eating a plate of meatballs on the balcony of his inn room. Russ, who finished his plate in mere seconds, stares at Ethan. "You had your share; those are mine," Ethan muses before head-petting Russ.
"With Viktor gone for a few years, or even forever, there is only one last thing to do," Ethan explains to Russ. "I hope they will be cupid enough to not cause any problems."
He finishes his meal and places the plate on the ground. "Ok," he says. "I wonder if I can get carpenter tools easily in this city."
Chapter 47: Puppeteer
Six hooded and masked figures walk slowly in a forest, nearing the ruins of a small, ancient temple. Despite the wear and damage, the statues display the emblem of Balthor, the god of war, honor, and courage. They step into the ruins, finding a newly crafted table with nine seats, with one positioned at the head. They sit in silence, keeping their gazes down but glancing around.
Ethan appears from the forest, anonymized by a hooded cloak and a wooden mask. He carries two covered silver plates on his left arm. They stare at him as he sets the plates on the table.
He removes the cover, revealing seven freshly severed heads. The six visitors stand in shock as Ethan takes the head chair. "You were warned to come unescorted," Ethan says. He tuned his voice to make it deeper and gravelly. "Now that we are free of unwanted ears, we can begin."
They sit back, except for a woman who pulls out a dagger and stabs it into the table. "You think you can intimidate us?" she snarls, her eyes blazing with defiance behind her mask. "We won''t be cowed by your theatrics. There are six of us here, and your blackmail won''t protect you!"
The woman''s grip weakens, and she collapses back into her seat as Ethan''s debilitating hex drains her strength. "Do not consider yourselves irreplaceable," Ethan warns. "That being said, I understand that your relationship with your previous employer was ¡ abusive. I intend for us to forge a mutually beneficial partnership."
They exchange glances, their expressions undecipherable under their masks. One asks, "And what do you have to offer?"
"Expertise, in each of your domains. At the cost of your loyalty," Ethan begins. He moves behind one of the men and removes his hood and mask. "After tonight, Cole Delaney will be the only person you''ll interact with. You''ll entrust him with a fourth of your benefits as your payment to me. He will also be your sole point of contact to request anything from me or from one another."
"Twenty-five percent?" one asks, surprise in his tone.
"Your previous employer was bleeding you dry. I have no interest in fueling your resentment, and you should all enjoy the fruits of your labor," Ethan says.
"So, that''s it?" one asks. "We continue to work as we did and give you a fourth of our money because you have dirt on us."
"You didn''t listen," Ethan answers. "I''ll start by helping you restructure each of your business to help you thrive. And should it be needed, I will handle any threats you cannot deal with."
"Restructure our business? What do you know about the work any of us are doing?" one asks, his ego sipping in his voice.
"The first thing, and this is for all of you, is to build a hierarchy where every employee only knows his direct superior. I only had to torture a few of your goons to find your names and addresses," Ethan says.
"You tortur ¨C" a man says, cutting himself off as he glances at the severed heads.
"I''ll now take time with each of you to discuss your particular business. Anyone but Cole and our paralyzed friend can leave for the edge of the forest," Ethan orders.
As only the three of them remain, Ethan dissipates his hex. She gasps for air, grasping her neck. "You almost killed me," she says.
"I controlled the spell just enough to allow you to breathe and keep your heart beating," Ethan replies. "Your business doesn¡¯t operate beyond the darkest corners of Opal¡¯s lower city, correct?"
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"Of course not. Paying off the few guards there is costly enough," she answers.
"That''s because you cannot hide your brothel. You need to show a more innocent front," Ethan begins. "Transform your establishment into a hotel where anyone can book a night; show the guards a normal, regular business. And offer your real, expensive services as massages or private parties."
She seems to think for a moment. "How can we attract clients if they cannot see what we are?"
"Organize shows in your hotels with famous bards during which your workers will approach potential clients. They should act interested and take part in their targets'' discussions without ever disagreeing with them. The best would be for your clients to fall in love with their host."
"Hotels, plural?" she asks, greed filling her gaze.
Ethan sighs. "You are asking the wrong question. Of course, you should buy and manage more places, but you do not see your biggest challenge."
"What is it?" she asks, genuinely confused.
"To entertain conversation with your clients, you''ll need to teach your girls to read, write, and speak as if born into nobility. They must learn about current politics and events, both in the city and in the world."
"If I do that, they will leave, taken by the first man who takes interest in them," she barks.
"Surely they will be able to convince him that they need money to repay the tremendous debt they own you," Ethan answers.
She fiddles with her fingers for a moment, thinking. "I understand. I¡¯ll do as you suggest."
"When your proteges are educated enough, rent them to nobles as pretend partners or spouses. And relay anything interesting they hear or find to Cole," Ethan says. "Send another one and leave this place," he orders.
As she stands up and leaves, he adds, "One last thing. No children." His tone is both inquisitive and threatening.
A man sits at the table; he''s broad and muscular but acts shy. Ethan opens a small notebook and quickly reads a page. "Your numbers are dwindling."
"Since the guard pays for every dead member of the Crimson Hand, adventurers have been hunting them," the man says.
"You need to stop branding them," Ethan begins. "And they are too weak."
The man straightens up in his chair, clearly offended. "And how do you propose we level up? Attack every guard and adventurer on sight? Or do you want us to go kill ourselves by hunting monsters?"
"Levels aren''t the issue. They barely know how to hold their weapons, can''t work together, and lack any form of courage," Ethan says. "What you need is a place to train them without attracting too much attention. You''ll use the ruins of this temple to build a mercenary guild."
"You want us to become mercenaries?" the man asks. "And how do you propose we pay for the construction?"
"On the surface, yes. It will justify training a large number of soldiers. As for the cost, you''ll use your troops to build it. Start with the basics: barracks, a palisade, an archery range, and a small forge," Ethan explains. He hands the man a series of papers with blueprints. "Regarding your drug sales, you''ll start relying on intermediaries. Instead of using your men to sell directly on the streets, you''ll sell in bulk and at a discounted price to unaffiliated dealers."
"Why would I leave money on the table?" the man asks.
"Firstly, you''ll cut costs by not needing to station your men on the streets. Secondly, it''ll slow any investigations directed at you," Ethan reassures. "Once your forces are trained enough, you will lend them as escorts to nobles and merchants. Anything they overhear must be reported to Cole."
The man asks, "And what if someone comes at our door to become a mercenary?"
"You should openly recruit individuals who will operate as legitimate mercenaries," Ethan replies. "However, structure your forces into separate units that do not interact to minimize the risk."
"Any other problems you have already solved?" the man asks.
"Get stronger," Ethan advises. "Prepare your son to succeed you while you''re in the Realm of Ascension. You need to reach a whole new level if you are to lead a large, capable army."
Sweat forms on the man''s neck. "If you''re planning to kill me, just say it," he says.
''Like many lowborns, he¡¯s been taught that the Realm of Ascension is likely to kill you or drive you mad,'' he thinks. Ethan responds, "The risk of irreversible harm in the Realm of Ascension is minimal. The dangers are mostly myths propagated by the nobility to keep the masses weak." Ethan silently doubts, ''I''m not certain, but that''s my best guess from what I''ve read.''
The man remains silent for a moment, scrutinizing Ethan, trying to discern any deceit. "I''ll need time to consider that last point. But I''ll follow your plan; it seems I won''t need to vanish because my organization was destroyed, after all."
"You can go back to the city; send another," Ethan commands.
Chapter 48: Puppeteer - Part 2
A cold wind traverses the ruins, making the approaching man shiver. He walks slowly, taking unsure steps as if the ground were swaying. He seats himself as far away from the severed heads as possible.
"Disgusted by the sight of your own men?" Ethan asks. "You were warned. These are the consequences of your poor decisions."
Ethan senses him biting his lips through predator''s sight. He says, "And I learned my lesson. What do you intend to teach me about piracy?"
"There is a vacant spot for a smuggler," Ethan begins. "But beyond that opportunity, I do have a few ideas to improve your business. The first of which is to create your own pirate island."
"What do you mean?" he asks.
"Out of the twenty ships in Opal''s harbor, four belong to pirates. They come here to get their ships serviced, at the risk of being caught and killed," Ethan explains. "There are several inhabited islands far off the coast of Opal. You will go to one of those and build a town complete with dry docks, sawmills, and forges."
He looks bewildered. "Why?"
"You will attract every pirate in this part of the ocean. Servicing their ships and crews will bring in vast wealth. Plus, you could take control of ships by double-crossing inexperienced captains," Ethan elaborates.
The man pauses, scratching his head. "I don¡¯t have anyone capable of that in my crew," he admits.
"You are pirates, aren¡¯t you? Seize what you need. Abduct carpenters, smiths, shipyard workers, even innkeepers," Ethan suggests. As the man wrestles with his thoughts, Ethan muses to himself, ''He''s certainly the one I have the least hope for.''
Cole chimes in, "A village up north was recently destroyed by wyverns. Its survivors are slowly making their way along the coast towards Opal. They will most likely be turned away, so you might as well take them." He looks at Ethan with a look of worry, wondering if he was expected to stay silent.
Ethan doesn''t return Cole''s gaze. "You heard him; go to your ship and fetch your new employees," he orders. "Tell one of the remaining two to come here."
As they are alone, Cole asks, "How can you be sure he won''t just sail away, never to be seen again?"
"His mother, sister, wife, and three children live here," Ethan says. "He could flee, but I doubt it."
A woman approaches with grace, her opened coat revealing a thin morphology. She looks around, scanning the forest.
"Are you wondering when your men will act?" Ethan asks. "I didn''t prepare enough silverware for them and had to leave them where I found them."
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Her body shivers as she hears him. She grabs the table with an iron grip to calm herself. "Please pardon their decision to follow me. I will make sure it will never happen again," she pleads.
Ethan chuckles menacingly behind his mask. "Lying isn''t your strong suit," he says. "I have little advice for your business, which is already running well. I''ll simply give you a list of new products you could incorporate."
He gives her a notebook that details the games of blackjack, roulette, poker, craps, baccara, and mahjong. Each description comes with statistical odds and a card-by-card explanation of a standard deck.
She reads it thoroughly and says, "The church of Seraphel would start a crusade to stop me from using those."
"One more reason to not be caught," Ethan says. "Additionally, you must ensure that any information disclosed by your clients reaches Cole''s ears."
"I''ll make sure to send an envoy every time we learn of something important," she says.
"You will do it yourself when he comes to you," Ethan snaps. "No one else in your organization must know of him or even hear his name."
She recoils in her seat. "Very well, Sir."
"You''re dismissed," Ethan says. "Order the last of you to come sit with us and return home."
She executes his commands without uttering another word.
The last man sits at the table. He''s breathing erratically, and his heart is beating fast. Seeing his outline through predator''s sight, Ethan says, "You aren''t Tobias."
The man jolts, his hand reaching under his coat. He stops and sprawls across his chair as Ethan''s hex drains him. He stops breathing as his diaphragm fails to draw air into his lungs. His heart stops beating; his lips and face lose their colors, tinting blue.
As only Cole remains at the table, he lets out a sigh. "So, I guess I''ll keep all your money for you to collect when you see fit," he says. He slides his lips, as if refraining to ask a question.
"Not quite," Ethan begins. "You''ve been operating your shop for a long time, haven''t you?"
"Years, but I am sure you already know that." Cole thinks for a moment. "Do you want me to send your money somewhere else?"
Ethan smirks behind his mask. "You''ll use a credible amount, as if generated by your shop, to buy other establishments. Shops that deal in services, where you cannot estimate how much money can be made from their purchases."
"I fail to see why you''d want me to do this," Cole interrupts.
"Let me finish," Ethan says. "You will create false records in each of those stores'' books. In doing so, you''ll avoid being questioned about the sources of your wealth."
"My wealth?" Cole asks.
Ethan resumes, "You¡¯ll pose as a generous benefactor, funneling your profits into schools, churches, and hospitals. You¡¯ll distribute annual bonuses to the guard and support underprivileged talents. And you will hire mercenaries to protect the surrounding villages and pathways."
Cole looks perplexed. "Why would you want to impede the others'' activities?"
"It¡¯s a minor compromise to align you with the nation''s key figures and reduce any suspicions about you," Ethan elaborates. "There''s a demolished lot soon on sale in the city center that could be useful."
"You want me to gather information on them, just like the others," Cole realizes.
"And provide me with funds when I demand it," Ethan adds. He throws a notebook that slides on the table and stops in front of Cole. "You will have to handle every request from your underlings. And crush those who step out of line, starting with Tobias Polsted. This contains everything about each of them and their activities; commit everything to memory and destroy it."
Cole sits back, his hands pressed against the table. He glances toward the edge of the forest. "We''re all puppets now. No, perhaps they already were under Viktor," he says. He looks down, gazing into the void. "I guess this is retribution for all of my life''s poor decisions." Cole looks up and realizes that Ethan is gone.
Chapter 49: Mount Silverveil
Ethan pushes the doors of the Adventurer Guild. He enters without Russ, who stayed at the inn; He''s too much of a risk, as he was seen at the auction. Ethan walks to the quest board, scanning it. ''A mission with a variable reward,'' he thinks.
"I haven''t seen you in a few days," Elara says. "You came without your dog?"
"He''s sleeping in," Ethan lies. He spots a C rank quest requesting iron ore rich in Ether, findable deep into the caverns of Mount Silverveil. The mountain in question is two days away from Opal City. ''A gold for every kilo of ore,'' Ethan reads. ''This is perfect.''
He approaches Elara''s countertop. "I''d like the quest for Mount Silverveil," he says. "Do you know the reason for its C rank?"
Adventurers who heard him chuckle. "Monsters live in those caverns," she explains. She takes a book from under her desk and opens it. She stops at the illustration of a Skullgor ¨C a humanoid, ape-like creature with a thick external skull. "Still interested?" she asks.
"Yes," Ethan answers. "Is there anything else I should know?"
"You must go to the Hammered Heart Smithy first. Otherwise, you won''t have the tools you need to properly extract the ore," she answers. "It''s in the inner city."
''I was planning on using black powder, but sure,'' he thinks. He nods as he grabs the quest''s copy.
As Ethan enters the smithy, he''s welcomed by a cacophony of complaints. A man is loudly bargaining for a battle axe. Another man barks at a young clerk, complaining about his late orders.
A young girl enters the room from behind the counter, carrying a sheathed sword. She walks up to a seated man and hands him the blade. He extends a hand, and she lets go; he fails to catch it, and his weapon clatters on the ground.
"You stupid bitch!" he yells. He grabs her by the shoulder and swings his backhand at her face.
Ethan grabs his swinging wrist, tightening his grip until he lets go of the girl. "What is wrong with you?" Ethan lets out. He feels an unknown Ether sipping from the man''s skin.
As the man reattaches his sword to his belt, Ethan closes his eyes. His sight fills with two kinds of Ether: the natural, neutral blue threads tangle with incandescent red ones.
Ethan draws in a small amount of red Ether, and it fills his body with warmth. His muscles team with energy, begging to be used. Pride gathers in his chest, and Ethan feels invincible. His mind clouds slightly, as if he were drunk. ''I''d open my status to be certain, but I''m convinced that this is fire Ether,'' he concludes.
A clerk approaches Ethan. "What can I do for you, dear customer?" she asks.
Ethan shows her the quest, and she nods. "I''ll go fetch Edgar," she says before disappearing.
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A burly man appears, still wearing a thick leather apron. His gray beard is burned in some spots. He presents his calloused and massive hand for Ethan to shake. ''He''s strong,'' Ethan thinks as he feels the man''s grip.
"Glad we finally found someone courageous," the man jests. "I''m Edgar Heart, this forge''s owner."
''Courageous? Should I reconsider?'' Ethan asks himself. "I was informed that you have equipment I need for my mission," he says.
The door opens, and the customers fall silent. Ethan glances behind him and sees Thea enter. Her long, golden hair cascades around her shoulders. Her piercing blue eyes reflect the interior lights, scanning the room. She''s escorted by two soldiers clad in thick plate armor, carrying immaculate swords, shields, and spears.
Ethan is taken aback by her beauty but regains his composure. He mocks himself, ''Come on, she''s at least ten years younger than you.''
She steps towards Edgar, ordering Ethan to move away with her gaze. He complies, feinting the same gaze of surprise as the other customers.
"Lady Dawnstar," Edgar welcomes. "How may we serve you today?" His voice became higher-pitched. He rubs his hands behind the countertop, trying to dissipate his stress.
"My sword was damaged," she says. Thea unsheathes the thin blade Ethan saw her wield; it''s chipped in several spots. "I need it fixed before tomorrow night," she demands.
"I''ll do it myself, Lady Dawnstar," the owner promises. He places his hands to receive the sword. With the blade in his possession, he moves towards the door leading further inside and nods at Ethan to follow him.
"Stop," Thea orders as she sees Ethan move. "What were you doing three nights ago?"
Ethan takes another step before turning around and pointing at himself, feinting to be unsure of who she''s questioning. "Me? I was hunting outside the city for the last few days."
"What did you do with the game you caught?" Her piercing gaze is locked on Ethan.
"I sold them to a merchant who was leaving the city," he lies.
Her eyes rotate to the side, betraying that she''s in her thoughts. "Show me the money you made," she orders.
"Lady Dawnstar," one of her guards interjects. "Our halt at this establishment already disturbed your schedule."
She turns around, glancing at the silver coins Ethan presents, a fake look of incomprehension on his face. She leaves with her escort, and Ethan joins Edgar. ''Those guards mustn''t be reporting to her,'' he thinks. ''She could have asked for my status or used Insight, not that the city''s guards refrain from it.''
As he enters the workshop, Ethan''s gaze falls on Sylas Hartwell, who stares back at him. "You two know each other?" Edgar asks. "That''s great."
''I don''t like where this is going,'' Ethan thinks. He looks around the workshop, his gaze falling onto a central, circular forge. Bright crystals release furious, crackling flames that turn steel bright red in seconds. Each flying spark escapes the forge along a thread of fire Ether.
"I feel better knowing you will be the one escorting me," Sylas says. He places the handle he was carving on his workbench and walks up to Ethan.
Ethan glances at Edgar. "I was told I would be borrowing equipment," he says, insisting on the last word.
"Of course. You''ll be borrowing my tools, but Sylas will go with you to use them. The boy comes from a village of miners, and contrary to you adventurers, he knows what I''m looking for," Edgar says.
''There weren''t any other missions that would make me a hundred golds in the next few days,'' Ethan thinks. ''I could press Cole for it or steal it, but then I could get questioned on the coins'' origin.''
Sylas offers a small smile and a handshake. "Don''t worry, I won''t bother you too much," he says. His pledge feels hollow to Ethan, who sees Sylas'' frail stature and unbalanced stance.
Edgar drops at their feet a large, but mostly empty, bag containing a shovel, a pickaxe, lanterns, and rope. "Ask for Bram at the east gate''s stables. Tell him you work for me, and he will lend you two horses," he says.
''That could also be my chance to train Sylas and get myself an excellent blacksmith,'' Ethan thinks. "We just need to make a stop at an inn to get Russ," he says before exiting the workshop.
Chapter 50: Hunter
"Driving (horse) leveled up," the voice announces for the tenth time today.
The sun dips into the horizon, its shadow rising along Mount Silverveil. The sporadic forest around Ethan and Sylas shadows with every passing minute. Stags, does, rabbits, partridges, and other animals move away from their path. Russ stares at each of them as he trots along Ethan''s horse.
Sylas, who is better at controlling his mount, rides in front of Ethan. They both had to be taught the basics at the stables, yet Sylas mastered horseback riding in a single day. "I originally thought that your talent applied to your levels, but does it affect your skills as well?" Ethan asks.
"It does," Sylas answers. "I went from zero this morning to thirty-three."
"You must be good at everything, even when you are just trying out," Ethan says. "What''s your highest skill?"
"Crafting tools is at ninety-nine, followed by crafting for short and long swords at seventy-eight and seventy-three," Sylas answers.
"And do you know how to use them?" Ethan asks. "You might need to pretty soon."
"Not really," Sylas answers. "I swung some on the blades I made but never trained with them."
Ethan directs his horse to the side, towards a rocky formation in the middle of a clearing. "We will stop here for the night," Ethan informs. "Get us some dry wood for a fireplace. I''ll make sure there are no monsters around; I should be back soon."
"You are leaving me alone?" Sylas says, worried.
"Russ, guard," Ethan orders, motioning at Sylas. Russ runs at Sylas and circles around him, following his every move.
Through predator''s sight Ethan spots a dozen animals, and one small humanoid hiding in a tree. Ethan moves through the forest using silent steps. He hides behind a tree next to the one bearing the creature.
A goblin, dressed in fur and armed with a bow, watches over the forest. He seems to be alone, and Ethan notices a satchel filled with berries and meat beside him. ''Is he a scout or a sentinel?'' Ethan ponders.
''The ground is too dry for him to leave tracks,'' Ethan thinks. ''But if I scare him, he might lead me to his people.'' Ethan forms a small fireball in his hand and throws it at the branch the goblin is standing on.
The goblin lets out a word of gibberish and jumps down, running for his life. He moves in a straight line, yelling at the top of his lungs. Soon, a host of ten heartbeats appear in Ethan''s sight. Seven belong to goblins, two to wolf-like creatures, and one to a bigger goblin.
Ethan stops tracking the goblin as he sees a small camp made of leather tents. They yell at each other in gibberish, and the goblins run around, staring at the forest.
"Adding the Language (Goblin) skill. Based on your previous experience a level of 0 has been applied," the voice announces.
''That''s an actual language?'' Ethan rhetorically asks himself. ''I should attract them outside. Insight,'' he thinks as he targets the bigger goblin.
Grugnar
Lv.20/20 (Goblin) Goblin
Lv.2/20 (Hobgoblin Warrior)
Strength: 18 Charisma: 3
Dexterity: 16 Perception: 15
Constitution: 16 Willpower: 11
Intelligence: 7
Ability
Endurance (F)
Ethan moves away as the goblins rush into the forest on Grugnar''s orders. They swarm in the bushes, yelling and hissing at each other. Their movements are chaotic and unorganized.
Ethan''s eyes fall on one of the goblins armed with a bow. Ethan leaps forward, his dagger reaching the goblin''s throat. He grabs the bow and twists it out of the goblin''s grasp. He nocks an arrow and draws the bow, which offers little to no resistance.
The first arrow finds its mark in the guts of a goblin, drawing agonizing cries. Ethan moves, shifting his position and finding a new cover.
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The goblins swarm around the wounded, and Ethan picks off two of them. The remaining four rush toward the camp, falling one by one as arrows pierce them.
Ethan pulls out the last arrow in his quiver and aims at one of the wolf-like creatures. It''s taller and broader than a wolf, with more prominent teeth and dark-brown fur.
Ethan loses the arrow, and the beast jumps to the side. It burrows into its thigh instead of its head. It collapses with a yelp before running off into the forest.
Ethan drops the bow and enters the camp. "You think you can kill me?" Grugnar growls in broken Eldorian. He roars in fury, brandishing a steel sword. Grugnar charges at Ethan, swinging widely.
''He''s slow," Ethan thinks. He rotates to the side, moving his right leg to avoid the blow. As Grugnar''s blade slashes along Ethan, he grabs the hobgoblin''s wrist and crushes it. Grugnar lets go of his blade and screams.
The second wolf-like creature jumps on Ethan, aiming to bite his leg. ''Strengthening,'' Ethan thinks before hurling Grugnar at the creature. The hobgoblin''s body collides with the wolf in a concert of breaking bones.
They both fly into a tent, unable to stand as Ethan''s debilitating hex saps their remaining strengths. Ethan grabs the long sword from the ground, swinging it into the air to test it.
Ethan looks around, finding nothing but simple camping supplies. He searches for cooking equipment but finds nothing of interest.
He approaches the hobgoblin and his wolf. With two swings, he cuts their throats. He examines the blade, pleasantly surprised by the absence of damage on its edge.
Ethan reunites with Sylas, dragging behind him the corpses of a goblin, the hobgoblin, and a wolf-like creature. Russ wags his tail frenetically at Ethan''s sight but stays around Sylas.
Sylas started a fire in an improvised fireplace made of rocks. The burgeoning flames illuminate a primitive tent made of sticks and leaves. "I hope you don''t intend for us to make a meal out of them," Sylas worriedly jests.
Ethan lets go of the ropes. "I don''t," he reassures. "I brought them back to get hunter titles for both you and me." He drags the hobgoblin closer to Sylas and slices open his chest.
Sylas covers his mouth and gags uncontrollably. "What are you doing?"
"Teaching you the best ways to kill a hobgoblin," Ethan answers. "It''s easy for humanoid species, as they share a lot of similarities with us."
"Hunter titles are obtained after killing tens, if not hundreds of them," Sylas says. "So, I reiterate, what are you doing?"
Ethan lifts his head at Syla''s words. "Trust me; if I am right, you''ll gain three characteristic points," he says. "Their bones are thicker than those of humans; unless you have an unnatural strength, you''ll have a hard time reaching internal organs."
"What''s that big purple thing beneath his ribs? That seems important," Sylas says.
"That''s his liver. You can aim for it, and he will probably get shocked by the pain, but it won''t kill him immediately. At best, he will bleed out after a few minutes," Ethan explains.
"Isn''t that enough?" Sylas asks.
"Not if he kills you before bleeding out," Ethan says. Looking around, he spots small movements in the hobgoblin''s guts. He makes a small incision, uncovering hundreds of thin, long, white worms.
Sylas recoils and takes a step back. "What''s that?" he asks. "It looks like worms, but why are they in his stomach?"
"That''s its intestines, not his stomach," Ethan says as he points to the stomach. "They are parasites that feed on what he eats. Russ got infested with them once, but you can kill them by eating ¡ plants."
"What kind of plants?" Sylas asks, his hand on his abdomen.
"I don''t know," Ethan answers. He scans the rest of the hobgoblin organs and concludes, "The best way to kill him is to treat him as a human. Aim for his legs to make him bleed, and his neck to kill him."
"You obtained the Hobgoblin hunter title. One characteristic point has been granted," the voice announces. Sylas eyes widen slightly, betraying that he heard the same announcement.
"If people were to know, everyone would be hunting for those titles," Sylas says.
"I am sure some people know," Ethan says. "I wonder, how many of those can you get? If I were to hunt and study every creature in the world, would I get hundreds of characteristic points?"
Sylas stares at Ethan for a moment, as if his question were rhetorical. "I don''t know," he says, shaking his head.
Ethan reiterates the operation for both the goblin and the wolf-like creature. "You obtained the Warg hunter title. One characteristic point has been granted," the voice announces.
"Great," Ethan says. He stores his dagger and drags the corpses behind the rocks. "I almost forgot, but we need something to eat. Russ, hunt," he orders.
Russ looks at Ethan and then at the forest, sniffing around. He bolts into a bush, rushing after a hare. Ethan looks around and finds the stems of wild carrots he uproots. Scanning deeper into the forest, he finds mushrooms similar to ceps. He smells one and concludes, ''It should be edible.''
As Russ comes back, the hare in his maw, Ethan hears a bird flying out of its nest. He finds six eggs in them and detects that three are unfertilized. ''I hope all eggs taste the same,'' he thinks.
As Ethan returns, he sees that Sylas made a spindle above the fire with branches. He takes Russ''s prey and orders, "Hunt." Russ goes back to the forest after another hare.
Ethan approaches the rocks and, using a stone, breaks a slate out of one of them. He places it above a part of the fire to heat it up. Using a flat rock''s surface, he cuts down the plants into small chunks. He opens the hare, skins it, and empties its stomach.
Russ comes back with another, and Ether reiterates the operation. He tosses their hearts, livers, and kidneys to Russ, who catches them mid-flight.
The hares spin slowly above the fire, and the vegetables sizzle on the slate along with the eggs. "Sadly, we can''t find butter in a forest," Ethan jests.
Russ circles the clearing, checking and sniffing in every direction. Satisfied, he walks up to Ethan, who sits along the fire, and lays down by his side.
As he turns the spindle, Sylas stares at Russ. "I know I must have said it before, but I''ve never seen a dog like him," he says. "Where did you get him?"
"That''s a long story," Ethan says. "But I guess we have time for it."
Chapter 51: Russ
"Years ago, I was on a mission to stop pirates from smuggling magical weapons," Ethan begins. "I acted in the dead of night, concealed by a raging thunderstorm."
The spindle slows down as Sylas focuses on Ethan''s words. "What kind of magical weapons?" he asks.
"The kind that can destroy a town the size of yours in an instant," Ethan answers. "The pirates were countless; I fought my way through their gargantuan ship to their leader. But he wasn''t where I expected him to be. He took to a boat, but not without several magical weapons. One of them blew up, cutting the ship in half."
Ethan''s gaze turns to his memories ¨C the feeling of the glacial oceanic waters freezing his bones. He loses himself in the pain of being tossed around in the cargo ship''s bowels.
"I woke up on the beach on an island; the remains of the ship were scattered on its sand," Ethan continues. "Amidst the sound of crashing waves, I heard yelps."
"You found him on an island," Sylas says as if he found the answer to a question.
"I think he was on the ship as well. He was crying along the body of his mother, who, I think, carried him as she swam in the storm," Ethan says. The memory fills his mind with sadness. "I buried her away from the beach, on solid ground."
The image brings a tear to Sylas''s right eye. "How did you leave the island?" he asks.
"I was stuck there for a full year, amidst wild animals hell bent on eating us," Ethan says. "A few of the pirates survived too, but it would have been useless to reason with them."
"You survived a year on a deserted island alone?" Sylas exclaims. "No wonder you are so strong."
Ethan denies, "It wasn''t fully deserted. I was lucky enough to find the remnants of other stranded individuals'' shelter. It was extremely useful, especially early on."
Ethan''s mind drifts to the memories of the shelter, built by stranded American soldiers at the end of World War two. The men wrote increasingly insane journals about their five years on the island.
"I kept sane thanks to him," Ethan says. "I trained him every day I could. And he saved me several times, as many times as I saved him."
"How did you get out of the island? Did you build a boat?" Sylas asks.
"The best I could have built would have been a raft. And I hadn''t lost enough sanity to try it against the ocean," Ethan says. "A friend had been searching for me all this time, and after a year, she found me."
"She? I hope you married her after that," Sylas jests.
Ethan smirks. "Our relationship isn''t like that," he says. "And right after I came home, a plague paralyzed it for nearly two years."
Sylas''s face contorts in surprise. "What do you mean, paralyzed?"
"Our leaders ordered everyone to stay home unless absolutely necessary," Ethan explains. "The illness in itself wasn''t that dangerous, but it spread like wildfire. Our hospices were overrun by old and unhealthy people, and it killed many of them."
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"I''ve never heard of this," Sylas says. "You must come from very far away."
''This world is huge, with several isolated landmasses,'' Ethan thinks. ''He won''t guess that I come from another one.''
"I won''t get an answer, will I?" Sylas asks.
Ethan doesn''t answer; he flips the vegetable and breaks the yolks to ensure everything is cooked.
"Why are you here? I mean on this continent," Sylas asks.
Ethan''s expression hardens as he turns back to Sylas. "Beside the other soul in my body problem, I''m looking for a man."
Sylas raises an eyebrow. "Who is it?"
Ethan shakes his head. "I don''t know for sure. All I have is a face and the fact that he rules over a country or a city."
Sylas leans back, his curiosity piqued. "Why are you looking for him? Is he someone you want to kill?"
Ethan pauses, flipping the vegetables and letting the sizzling sound fill the silence. Sylas watches him, waiting for an answer. Ethan finally says, "Why are you asking that?"
"Because you''re a man who hasn''t told me his name and who disappeared the second we stepped into Opal City. Without mentioning that you somehow changed your hair''s color," Sylas says. "You don''t want people to notice you. And you are often cold as ice, completely numb to others'' feelings."
Ethan''s jaw tightens at Sylas''s words, the bluntness of his observations striking a chord. "I can''t argue with that," Ethan says, his voice low. "But if you think I am a killer of sorts, why would you confront me here, in the middle of nowhere?"
A shiver travels along Sylas''s neck. "I don''t think you''ll harm me," he says. "So, who is he? The man you''re looking for?"
Ethan sighs, running a hand through his hair. "He''s someone from my past. The person who killed my father when I was a child," Ethan answers, the confession lifting an invisible weight off his chest. "After twenty years without a hint as to who he was, the second soul in my body showed me a memory of him. He was giving a speech to his people, a crown of gold and rubies on his head."
Sylas''s eyes widen. He glances around, trying to avoid looking at Ethan. "Are you able to communicate with the other soul? You could ask him where he saw that man and who he is."
"It happened when I was in a coma, just before I woke up in the monastery," Ethan says. "At the time, I must admit that it slipped my mind. But, thinking of it, I''m not sure he would tell me without asking for something in return."
Sylas shrugs, a small smile playing on his lips. "You should at least try, if you get the occasion," he says. "I''m sorry you lost your father. I cannot understand how you must feel, and I won''t pretend to judge you for it."
Ethan''s eyes narrow as he spots an incoherence. "Didn''t you tell me you lost your father?" he asks.
"He isn''t dead, or at least I don''t think he is," Sylas answers. "He was called to the Realm of Ascension nearly ten years ago. I like to think that he''s still there or that he came back to a different part of the world."
"Ten years is a long time, but it isn''t unheard of," Ethan says. He pulls out a book from his haversack and browses its pages. "It usually ranges from one hour to a few weeks, with most coming back after one or two days. But there are several reported cases of people who disappeared for decades or even centuries."
"How did they survive if centuries passed?" Sylas asks.
Ethan reads further and says, "For them, only a small amount of time passed. There isn''t a relation between the time in the Realm of Ascension and the time here."
"Could I borrow your book?" Sylas asks.
"Sure," Ethan answers, handing him the book. "It needs to go back to the Chronicle Vault; it''s in the upper city."
The smell of roasted hare fills the air, announcing its readiness. Ethan divides everything in three, using tree bark as makeshift plates. He hands his meal to Sylas and places Russ''s on the ground. "Ok," he orders.
They eat in relative silence, the only sounds being the occasional rustling of leaves. Russ lifts his head between each bite, listening for any approaching threats.
They finish their meal as the fire dies down. Ethan moves to one of the rocks, in a position that allows him to keep watch over the clearing. Sylas follows suit, settling on the grass with his bag for a pillow.
Ethan lays down as Russ curls beside him. Ethan''s body relaxes, but his mind stays vigilant. His eyes grow heavy, but he remains in the lightest of sleep, ready to wake up at the most insignificant, unnatural noise.
Chapter 52: Ascent
Flames devour Ethan''s home, licking at the walls and beams. Heat sears his skin, and the air chokes him with the acrid stench of smoke and ash. He struggles, unable to breathe as the air burns his lungs. Through the inferno, a shadow moves, cutting through the smoke.
The man, his face framed by his long black hair and unruly beard, walks as if untouched by the heat. His hands drip blood on the ground, the red liquid sizzling as it hits the marble flooring. Ethan wants to lunge at the figure, but he''s frozen, bound by an unseen force.
Ethan jolts awake to the first rays of sunlight and the chirping of birds. Sylas is still sleeping, inattentive to his surroundings. ''It should be around six,'' Ethan thinks. Wanting to distract himself, he lets his mind wonder about this new realm. ''Their world seems bigger than ours, yet days are equal in length. And the gravity is sensibly the same.''
Ethan glances around, checking the clearing, and further away with predator''s sight. He lays back, pressing his back against the hard surface of the rock he''s sitting on. "Status," he says.
Ethan Reed
Lv.15 (Harbinger) Human
Class change available
Strength: 23 + Charisma: 12 +
Dexterity: 20 + Perception: 16 +
Constitution: 20 + Willpower: 23 (21) +
Intelligence: 20 +
Available characteristic points: 2
Titles
Dungeon conqueror (D)
First dungeon conqueror (D)
Dungeon conqueror (E)
Dungeon conqueror (F)
First dungeon conqueror (F)
First hunter
Goblin hunter
Hobgoblin hunter
Kin slayer
Kobold hunter
Skeleton hunter
Slayer of the first incursion
Warg hunter
Abilities
Anonymity (E)
Identification (F)
Insight (F)
Piercing shot (E)
Predator''s sight (E)
Silent steps (F)
Spell casting (E)
Strengthening (F)
''It has become increasingly difficult to level up. I had to kill a lot of Huskstalkers, humans, and a troll to get from fourteen to fifteen,'' he thinks. ''I shouldn''t wait too long to change my class. Viktor''s ability to paralyze everyone and Thea''s ability to disrupt spells should belong to ascended classes."
"Class change," he says, summoning the myriad of illustrated cards. New ones made their appearance, including crafting classes. ''Remnants Warden has the same silver edge as Harbinger. I think it''s an indicator of its rarity,'' he thinks. ''I''ve unlocked more than twenty classes, but perhaps I could get rarer and more powerful ones.''
"Close," he says, and the windows vanish. He goes down from his perch and begins his morning routine.
As Ethan completes his push-ups, Sylas wakes up, emitting pained groans and massaging his back. After a minute of laziness, he finally stands. "Alright, let''s get moving. The sooner we get there, the better. I don''t want to spend one more night on the ground."
Twenty meters above ground, Sylas struggles in his ascent of Mount Silverveil. He moves along a rope placed by previous climbers. Yet, as Ethan did before him, he doesn''t use it, as it unravels with each tug.
Above Sylas, standing on a rocky corniche and flanked by Russ, Ethan asks, "Why isn''t there a settlement here to extract the minerals we are searching?"
Sylas looks up, blinded by the reflections of the sun. "Beside the monsters, the mountain erupts with Ether every few decades. The aura it releases can kill humans," Sylas explains. "The last time was six years ago."
"How was it?" Ethan asks as he grabs Sylas''s hand to help him get to the corniche.
"It created magnificent waves of color in the night sky," Sylas answers. He glances at Ethan''s sword, poorly sitting into the sheath he made for him. "Where is your sword!?" he demands.
Ethan looks at the sword he carries and replies, "I broke it on a monster''s skull."
Sylas climbs to the corniche with renewed strength. "You broke it?! Do you know how valuable that sword was? I doubt I even have the strength to mold metal so rich in Ether," he fumes.
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"I still have the fragments if you want them," Ethan says. "The fact that I broke it means it wasn''t good enough."
"You have no respect for the hard work that went into it," Sylas says.
"Make one good enough for me, and then I''ll respect it," Ethan jests. "Backpack," he orders Russ, who climbs on Ethan''s back, his paws, and his head over Ethan''s shoulders.
They reach a grassy plateau, dotted with tall pines and bushes. Their objective, a hole in the mountain they spotted from its foot, stands before them.
A few strands of brown fur flutter in the wind, caught in the tunnel''s rocks. Sylas moves to the entrance, rubbing strands between his fingers. An animalistic stench wafts from its depths, stinging Ethan''s nose. Through predator''s sight, Ethan can hear distant snores. Threads of Ether tightly populate the tunnel, denser and more potent than outside.
Russ squeaks from a dozen meters away, laying down in front of a bush. Ethan walks up to him and uses predator''s sight to peer through the leaves. He finds the remnants of a small encampment: a modern backpack stuffed with berries, a black coat hanging from a branch, and a small travel knife.
"You should set up a rope to make the way down easier," Ethan says, hoping it will distract Sylas long enough.
"That''s a good idea," Sylas says, moving back to the edge. He cuts a length of rope and starts tying it to a massive rock.
Ethan notices deep gouges in the ground, broken branches, and bloodstains smeared across the bark of a nearby tree. He crouches, examining the ground closely. Large, deep footprints lead towards the tunnel, alongside drag marks. The imprints are those of large, naked feet with claw-like nails. ''They attacked him in his sleep, bashed him on the ground and in that tree, then dragged him into the tunnel,'' Ethan reconstructs.
Ethan gathers the remnants of the encampment. He stows the coat and the knife into the backpack and throws the lot far away. Ethan stands and surveys the area again with predator''s sight, ensuring that nothing modern is left. He returns to Sylas, who has finished tying the rope.
Sylas gives the rope a final tug and stands up. "Let''s go," he says, moving toward the tunnel.
Ethan takes the lead, descending carefully, with Sylas and Russ following closely behind. The deeper they go, the more potent the Ether becomes. It swirls around them, becoming an almost tangible force.
The tunnel narrows, and the stench grows stronger, overpowering Ethan''s senses. Sylas coughs, covering his nose with his sleeve. Ethan pushes on, using predator''s sight to guide them through the darkness.
They reach a cavernous opening filled with distant, echoing snores. Ethan scans the cavern, finding only bats and insects. "You can light up a torch," he says.
Sylas nods and ignites a torch, using it to search the cavern''s walls. He stops along the remnants of silvery veins and places his bag on the ground. He begins the extraction, each impact of his pickaxe echoing loudly.
''Shouldn''t exposed iron ore be red?'' Ethan asks himself. ''Perhaps Ether stops it from oxidizing." Holding his sword, he places himself a few meters away from Sylas, listening for anything approaching them.
Minutes feel like hours as Ethan switches his gaze between every path connected to the cavern. Sensing the surrounding Ether, he realizes that, when strands graze the stone and minerals, it leaves a fraction of Ether inside of it.
Sylas stashes his pickaxe and stores the few chunks of ore he extracted. "Someone already took most of what this cavern had to offer," Sylas says. "Maybe we should go deeper."
"Should we follow the tunnels pouring out the most Ether?" Ethan asks. "We could find even better ore."
"We need to be careful," he says. "It''s bearable for now, but if it gets too dense, it will become dangerous." He moves towards the tunnel emitting the most concentrated flow of Ether.
The temperature drops noticeably as they advance. The Ether becomes so dense that it slows down their movements, as if they were fighting against a strong wind.
Sylas stops as they pass a large, silvery vein. "There is probably more ore here than we can carry back, sweet," he says as he drops his bag to the ground.
"While you work, I''ll go see if I can find what is emitting all of this Ether," Ethan says. "Russ, guard."
"You are leaving us? What do we do if Skullgors find us?" Sylas asks.
"They aren''t following us; I can still hear them snoring," Ethan says. "And if I am wrong, just scream, and I''ll be there immediately." As he resumes his steps, he thinks, ''Perhaps I could lower the Ether''s density by using it. ¡ Strengthening.''
As Ethan draws as much Ether as possible from the air, using every drop to power his ability, Sylas gasps. "How are you doing that?" he asks.
Ethan, who was walking away, turns around. "What do you mean?" he asks, unaware of what had shocked Sylas.
"Drawing Ether without meditating. You are walking around as if it''s nothing," Sylas says, his jaw hanging slightly in utter incomprehension.
''That''s what Viktor meant when he told me that no soldier could draw Ether like that,'' Ethan realizes. "I''ve always been able to do that. Maybe it¡¯s because the way I learned was different," he says.
"My Ether manipulation is at fifty-five, and I still need to meditate to draw Ether. And neither I nor anyone I know can do it with such intensity," he says.
''It''s not like it''s an unconscious thing; I still need to focus a part of my mind on it. But it''s similar to listening to several conversations at once or continuously altering a plan to adapt to the situation. And Viktor, his mage, and Thea were all doing it, to some extent,'' Ethan thinks. "Maybe you should try when you are in a safer place."
Sylas begins his work as Ethan disappears into the tunnel.
Chapter 53: Trap
As Ethan walks down the tunnel, he stays focused on the distant sounds of Sylas''s pickaxe. He tunes the intensity of Strengthening to the stream of Ether he absorbs, creating a direct path between the strands of Ether and his muscles. Vapor evaporates from his exposed skin as his fibers tingle with intense heat.
The winds of Ether grow stronger, halting Ethan''s steps. The threads touch, usually causing a tingle, feels like sandpaper. They leave fragments of Ether inside Ethan''s skin, which he cannot easily manipulate. The sensation intensifies with each passing second, soon turning painful.
He closes his eyes for a moment, letting his body attune to the surrounding flow. "Ether manipulation leveled up," the voice announces. He takes a deep breath, focusing on the winds of Ether swirling around him.
Ethan raises his right hand, fingers spread, and concentrates on the Ether touching his hand. With a deliberate effort, he pulls on them, directing more Ether into his heart. The stream reaches a point at which Ethan fails to intensify it.
''I can freely control Ether inside my body. Perhaps I could command the outside threads to avoid me,'' he thinks. He draws small threads of Ether from his heart into his fingertips, remaining in control as they leave his body. Using them, he pushes against the threads battering him and bends them away.
Absorbing Ether through his skin and emitting it from its fingers takes Ethan''s full attention. His body heats up where the contradictory flows meet. He raises his left hand and limits the absorption of Ether to its surface. The flows met painlessly in his heart, swirling in a smooth pattern. "Ether manipulation leveled up," the voice repeats.
The outside Ether yields to his commands, parting like a curtain to clear his path. With each step forward, he grows more adept at manipulating the Ether surrounding him. The winds no longer batter him as fiercely as he finds a balance between absorption and deflection.
"Ether manipulation leveled up," the voice repeats for the third time. ''I''m on the right track'', Ethan thinks. The tunnel ahead widens, and the winds become more turbulent.
He stops for a moment, concentrating on creating a barrier ¨C a thin net of his own Ether that shields him from the worst of the outside threads. The winds howl, testing his new shield, but Ethan holds firm. He can feel the strain on his mind from the effort of maintaining his construct. "Ether manipulation leveled up."
As he continues down the tunnel, the sound of Sylas''s pickaxe grows distant. He can still sense both Sylas and Russ through predator''s sight and keeps an ear on their surroundings. He enters a widening cavern, its walls lined with glowing blue Ether crystals.
His eyes, adjusting to the dim, bluish glow, catch sight of something massive and dark lying in the center of the cavern. The remnants of a gigantic beast lie sprawled across the cavern floor, partially buried under layers of rocks. Its thick bones feel metallic, glowing in the cavern''s light.
As he approaches, his eyes are drawn to the heart of the beast. There, nestled within the ribcage, is an amalgamation of Ether, a swirling substance that seems to pulse with a life of its own. The threads of Ether he has been following all converge here, forming a complex web that simmers with an ethereal, green light.
In the center of this amalgamation, a floating glass-like sphere catches his eye. It is translucent and crystalline, yet holding a weight and presence that are almost tangible. Inside the sphere, two beastly eyes float, locked onto him with an unblinking, predatory gaze.
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Ethan feels a shiver run down his spine as he meets the gaze of the sphere. Glancing around, he spots weapons and armor under the layers of dust, and then the corpses of their owners.
Each set of remains seems to be positioned as if the individuals had been converging on the sphere. He examines the skeletal remains and their equipment, each separated by important spans of time. Some appear to have been decomposing for a few years; others look like they are a touch away from crumbling to dust.
''The mountain emits an intense aura of Ether every few decades,'' Ethan recalls. ''Could it be that it coincides with them approaching the remains? Is it conscious? Those eyes surely make it seem so.''
He looks around for anything else. ''I shouldn''t approach anymore,'' he thinks. ''But I could still use the occasion while Sylas is working.'' He sits down, his legs crossed, as he closes his eyes.
Taking a deep breath, he lets more Ether than he can absorb sip through his shield. It batters his skin and leaves shards of Ether inside. He reforms his protection and focuses on the unresponsive shards. His mind reaches out, sensing in more detail the effects they have on his body. They slowly dissipate, causing small damages akin to burns around them.
He guides small threads of his Ether to them, absorbing them with a simple touch. ''They are like the threads outside of my body,'' he thinks. He lets successive waves through, repeating the operation repeatedly. "Ether manipulation leveled up," the voice echoes several times.
He manipulates his protection to make it large enough to protect not only him but several others. He notices a chunk of ore embedded in the cavern wall, glowing with concentrated Ether. His mind wanders, pondering the question, "How long did it take for Ether to sip into this ore?"
He pulls out a Glock magazine from his haversack and unloads a bullet he places between his fingers. ''I can use Piercing shot to instantly make it harder,'' he thinks. He shrinks his shield and places the bullet just outside of it.
"Ether manipulation leveled up," Ethan hears again after long minutes of meditation. Sylas''s pickaxe quiets, and Ethan can hear him stashing the ore through predator''s sight. He stands up, picking up his experiment.
The copper outside layer barely holds any Ether. ''I guess it would take years, if not decades or centuries, for any meaningful quantity of Ether to naturally settle in it.''
As he walks back towards Sylas, he drops his protection, the density of Ether lessening. Through predator''s sight, he detects that a host of humanoid creatures are waiting for them in the first cavern they explored.
Ethan approaches Sylas quietly, the young man unaware of his presence. Russ, ever vigilant, spots Ethan and starts wagging his tail but remains at his post, staring up the tunnel.
Sylas, busy grabbing and stashing heavy chunks of ore, draws in Ether with every inhale and expels it with each exhale. "You¡¯re making great progress for someone who said it was impossible not long ago," Ethan says, startling Sylas.
"It''s still hard," Sylas replies, catching his breath. "But I''m getting the hang of it. I think this load is around a hundred and fifty kilos. Do you mind putting some in your haversack?"
"It''s almost full; I''ll just carry the whole thing. Don''t worry." Ethan helps gather the chunks into the bag, then swings it over his shoulder, using Strengthening to carry it with ease. "They are waiting for us in the cavern above. Just stay at the tunnel''s edge while I deal with them," Ethan says, silently waiting for an acknowledgement.
Sylas''s jaw drops slightly in surprise. He nods as he gathers his tools and steps behind Ethan. They walk back into the tunnel, soon reaching the cavern. Ethan drops the bag, unsheathing his sword as he steps inside.
"Russ, guard," he reiterates, motioning at Sylas. The Skullgors immediately react; their behavior is erratic and wild. Like mad gorillas, they beat their chests with frenzied force, jumping around the cavern and screaming in sharp noises.
Behind their skulls, their eyes glow with an intense, unsettling light. The biggest of them leaps toward Ethan, its massive arms swinging wildly. Ethan¡¯s muscles tense as he feeds them with Strengthening. He dashes forward, meeting the attacker midway through its leap and cutting it in half. The blade shatters on impact, its fragments embedded in the Skullgor''s body.
''That should deter them from approaching me,'' he thinks, drawing his dagger and discarding the broken blade. The remaining Skullgors open their mouths in grotesque roars, the sound shaking the walls and ground. In unison, they charge forward, baring their fangs at Ethan.
Chapter 54: Descent
Ethan dodges the first attack, his dagger flashing as he slashes the first Skullgor''s throat, drawing a splash of blood. The beast falls to its knees, holding its throat, its screams exiting through the wound. Blood pours from between its fingers, dripping to the ground.
The Skullgors howl in rage, their fury undiminished. They pound the ground with their fists, sending tremors through the cavern. Ethan dodges a blow from one of them, driving his dagger into its side and piercing its liver. The beast rolls to the ground, its gaze in the void as it suffers an excruciating pain.
Ethan''s dagger cuts through the air, each strike resulting in a dead or agonizing monster. He uses his strength and agility to move faster than they can adapt, weaving through the chaos.
The Skullgors are relentless; their reinforcements pour out of the tunnels. Their roars echo in the cavern, a cacophony of rage. They spot Sylas and rush toward him, opening their hands to grab him.
Russ swells in size, becoming bigger than the Skullgors as he draws from the surrounding Ether. He intercepts the nearest Skullgor mid-stride, clamping its jaws around the creature''s throat, his teeth sinking deep into its flesh. Russ shakes his head, tearing out the Skullgor''s esophagus, trachea, and tongue. The beast collapses, its blood spraying on Russ''s fur.
The Skullgors facing Russ recoil as he growls, approaching slowly like a predator. ''How am I less scary than Russ?'' Ethan ponders as he kicks a Skullgor''s tibia, breaking its leg.
A second Skullgor lunges at Russ, but he''s faster. He leaps onto the creature''s chest, knocking it to the ground. His powerful jaws snap shut around the Skullgor''s head, crushing its skull. The beat''s body goes limp, its limbs twitching in its final moments.
A third, witnessing the fate of its comrades, hesitates and runs off towards Ethan. Russ charges forward; its claws dig deep wounds into the Skullgor''s back. Taking advantage of Russ being a few meters away, a Skullgor grabs Sylas by the leg and drags him off into a tunnel.
Russ squeals to warn Ethan, but, having seen the event, he''s already rushing after the kidnapper. "Follow," he orders Russ, who runs into the tunnel with him.
Sylas wraps his arm around his head, shielding it from the high-speed impacts against the rocks. Sharp rocks dig into his arms and torso, and he screams with each wound.
Ethan races through the tunnel, guided by Sylas''s screams and the heavy footfalls of the Skullgor. The tunnel opens up into a wider cavern, and Ethan spots the Skullgor dragging Sylas towards a large pile of crushed bones. He cast debilitating hex at the creature, forcing it to drop its catch as it falls to the ground.
Sylas rolls to his knees, his bloodied eyes searching for anything to defend himself. He grabs a rock from the ground and hurls it at the monster''s skull, cracking it on impact.
Skullgors pour from the tunnels. Soon ten, ¡ twenty of them appeared, forming a ring along the room''s edge. They pound on the ground and on their chests, screaming wildly.
Ethan helps Sylas to his feet as Russ circles around them. His eyes scan the ring of Skullgor, planning to pierce their formation to go back to the surface.
"What now?" Sylas asks, blood dripping from his nose.
From behind the pile of crushed bones, an enormous figure emerges. A Skullgor covered in white fur appears at the top, its exoskeleton covering not only its skull but also its shoulders, chest, and back.
The other Skullgors fall silent, their pounding and screams ceasing. The evolved Skullgor roars ¨C a deep, guttural sound that reverberates through the cavern. "Insight," Ethan mutters.
Great Skullgor
Lv.20/20 (Skullgor) Skullgor
Lv.14/20 (Great Skullgor)
Strength: 35 Charisma: 0
Dexterity: 15 Perception: 20
Constitution: 35 Willpower: 17
Intelligence: 7
Talent
Fearless
Abilities
Endurance (F)
Fury (F)
Strengthening (F)
Ethan''s heart pounds at the Great Skullgor''s roar. His dagger feels minuscule in his hand in comparison to the beast. He scans the pile of crushed bones and scattered debris, searching for a better suited weapon.
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Dim crystals embedded in the cavern''s walls shine their light on a metallic spear. It juts out of the pile of bones, its long blade emitting a shimmering blue hue.
The Great Skullgor charges forward, his large body moving at an unnerving, unnatural speed. It leaps into the air, contorting to slam them. "Tackle," Ethan orders, simultaneously pointing at the spear. "Sylas, get me that spear."
Russ leaps into the air, his maw closing on its foot and dragging it to the ground. Russ''s paws touch the ground, and he charges forward, making the Great Skullgor fall on its face.
Sylas runs past the beast as Ethan slashes at its neck. The dagger skits against the bone plates covering the Great Skullgor''s upper body. "Let go," Ethan orders as the beast claws at Russ.
It stands back up, pounding its chest as it draws in Ether from the surrounding air. Its muscles billow with steam as he punches the ground, propelling shrapnels of stone. The spectating Skullgors scream in excitement, climbing on the walls and jumping around.
It takes a step forward but stops, looking at the foot Russ bit. It swelled, reddening with each passing second. It lunges at Russ, who jumps back to avoid the attack. Ethan slashes the creature''s forearm, but it backhands him, hurling him into the air.
The impact sends Ethan flying so fast that blood leaves his brain, as if he were in a rocket. For an instant, his sight darkens, but he spins into the air to place his legs towards his landing point. He kicks a spectating Skullgor in the face, shattering its skull and brain.
Russ jaws close around the Great Skullgor''s wrist, dragging it to the ground with a massive crash. The beast thrashes, trying to regain its footing. It rolls onto its back, throwing Russ off into the air.
Russ lands near Ethan, quick to his feet. Ethan gathers Ether in his palm, summoning a jet of fire that engulfs the beast. It thrashes against the stream, shielding its face.
"I got it!" Sylas yells, holding the spear above his head. The Great Skullgor sees him and roars, ignoring the fire to rush at Sylas. Sylas falls to the ground, terror etched on his face, holding the spear towards the beast.
Ethan bursts forward, barely catching up with the Great Skullgor. The beast leaps into the air, ready to crush Sylas under its fists. Drawing for his lifeforce, Ethan overtakes the enemy, reaching Sylas and grabbing the spear.
With a thrust, Ethan drives the shimmering spear into the Great Skullgor''s lower abdomen, where its exoskeleton ends. The beast roars in agony, its body convulsing as it tries to dislodge the weapon. Ethan twists the spear and pushes with all his might, throwing the beast into the pile of remains.
Bones, armor, weapons, clothes, and rotten bits of flesh fly everywhere, rattling on the cavern''s ground. The Great Skullgor tries to stand, but his legs refuse to move; he claws at the ground, dragging himself towards Ethan and Sylas. ''I damaged his spine,'' Ethan realizes.
"Adding the Melee Weapon (Spear) skill. Based on your previous experience a level of 11 has been applied," the voice announces.
Ethan lets go of the spear, which Sylas is still grasping. He gathers flames in his palm as he approaches the struggling creature. The spectating Skullgors fall silent, breaking the ring they formed to get away from Ethan. The fire he unleashes covers the Great Skullgor, hiding its form under the blinding red light it produces.
The beast''s roars turn into agonizing screams as the flames consume its fur and flesh. Its thrashing slows, each movement weaker than the last. The smell of burning meat fills the cavern, mingling with the acrid stench of smoke. A minute passes before the fire finally eats away the Great Skullgor''s remaining strength, reducing him to a smoldering corpse.
Ethan stands over the charred remains, his chest heaving with exhaustion as black veins grow along his neck. The remaining Skullgors retreat into the tunnels.
"Russ leveled up, Russ leveled up, Russ leveled up," the voice announces.
''How is Russ already level thirteen?'' Ethan thinks. ''It feels like we aren''t growing at the same pace.''
A window appears before both Sylas and Ethan. Sylas stares into the void with an expression of terror, sweat pearling on his face.
Skullgor nest (D)
Return stone
Ability book: Endurance (F)
Ability book: Strengthening (F)
Ether crystal (x5)
Great Skullgor''s bone plate (x5)
Gold coin (x10)
The pile of loot appears between Ethan and Sylas. Ethan passes it, kneeling to Sylas''s level. "Sylas," he says softly, trying to meet his eyes. "It''s over. He''s dead."
Sylas doesn''t respond; his eyes are wide and unfocused, staring into the void. "Sylas, look at me," Ethan insists, his voice firm. He shakes Sylas''s shoulder, trying to break him out of the fear. "You''re safe now. I''m sorry I failed to protect you, but it''s over now."
Russ pads over as he shrinks down, his head nudging Sylas''s leg. "You don''t get it," Sylas says. "I''m done for. I was level sixteen, and it said it eight times. Soon, I''ll disappear into the Realm of Ascension."
They stay silent and immobile for a long time. Sylas''s window shows extra rewards, gifted for his first conquest of a D rank dungeon.
--- Extra rewards ---
Characteristic point (x3)
Harmony shard of bestiality
A Skullgor emerges from one of the tunnels, bowing its head and approaching slowly. Ethan walks up to it, shielding Sylas. The beast stops and places a greenish piece of ore on the ground, recoiling in a submissive bow.
Ethan grabs it, thinking, ''Identification.''
Wyrdium ore
A dense metal ore with an unparalleled ability to conduct and amplify unnatural Ethers.
This piece of wyrdium ore holds dense Ether, improving its hardness, flexibility, thermal tolerance, and magic resistance.
Sylas pries the piece from Ethan''s hand, his fear replaced by curiosity. He uses Identification, opening a window of his own written in Eldorian. He gasps at the sight of the description. "Do you have any idea how much this is worth? What you can do with it?" Sylas asks.
"I''m sure you won''t refrain from telling me," Ethan says, stashing the loot into his haversack. He hands Sylas the two ability books and the yellow, polished crystalline shard. "You can tell me while we go down the tunnel he came from to see if we can find you more. And you should learn those two abilities; it will help you."
Chapter 55: Ishai
Skysong (Spear)
The spark steel of this spear''s blade amplifies the effects of lightning Ether.
This weapon has been enchanted with [Sharpness (D)], and [Durability (E)].
Ethan looks around, searching for anything of value in the scattered remains of the Skullgors'' meals. Among the bones, he spots human skulls, but also the skeletons of giant insects and Skullgors.
"Don''t you want to get the bag we left?" Sylas asks, bandaging his wounds with the sterile gauze Ethan gave him. "It must cost a lot of money; look at that seamless pattern."
"We''ll get it on the way out. And if we can''t, I''m sure the wyrdium will satisfy your boss," Ethan answers. He grabs an empty bag from the ground, checking it before tossing it over his shoulder.
They enter the tunnel where the submissive Skullgor came from. They soon come across new threads of Ether, different from the ones emitted by the monster''s corpse. They float softly in the tunnel, unable to slow their pace.
Soon, they reach a narrowing part of the tunnel where Ethan''s struggles to pass. His coat scrapes on the rocks as he forces his way through. They enter a cavern, finding a large, misty lake filled with luminescent water.
Sylas''s heartbeats hasten, and Ethan asks, "What''s wrong?"
"Don''t you know where we are?" Sylas says. "This isn''t water; this is a source of Ether. Those places are guarded by terrifying monsters."
Ethan scans the room with predator''s sight. "Beside the tree in the center, there is nothing alive here," he says.
"The tree?" Sylas asks. "I don''t see any trees."
"There is one in the lake''s core, behind the mist," Ethan says.
"That''s not possible," Sylas mocks. His gaze falls on a stalagmite made of Wyrdium, his eyes widening at the sight. "You''ll die if you touch liquid Ether."
"Russ, down," Ethan orders. Curious, he takes out a Kobold tooth and throws it in the lake. It doesn''t sink but skids on the surface, disintegrating where it touches the lake until nothing is left.
"Told you," Sylas says, gauging where to strike the ore deposit.
Ethan closes his eyes, sensing the Ether emitted by the lake. The air is thick with the palpable threads, a hum spreading across them. He feels the Ether intertwining with his own, sending tingling shivers down his spine.
He feels a pull towards the tree, a subtle tug coming from the threads of Ether. A small object, nestled in the core of the trunk, whispers to him in an unknown language. He opens his eyes, his concentration shattered by the clash of Sylas''s pickaxe with the stone.
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Ethan pushes away the threads of Ether with his own, confirming that he can control them. ''I should at least try,'' he thinks. He spreads his arms, absorbing the surrounding Ether into his heart before guiding it to his feet. He forms a tight net of Ether on the sole of his boots and around them, up to his ankles.
He stands immobile for a few minutes, perfecting the protection. He takes a step, ensuring that he can go back to solid ground if needed. The liquid Ether below his foot sparks in a breaking-glass pattern. His foot holds firmly on the tranquil waters, as if he were walking on concrete. He breathes in deeply and takes a second step, now entirely on the lake.
Sylas turns around just in time to see Ethan taking a third step onto the lake. His eyes widen in shock and horror as his mouth drops open. The luminescent surface of the lake shines under Ethan''s presence.
"What the abyss are you doing? Get back here!" Sylas shouts, his voice echoing off the cavern''s walls.
Ethan looks back at Sylas with a calmness that contrasts sharply with Sylas''s panic. "Trust me," he says, his voice steady.
Sylas shakes his head vehemently, fear and frustration warring in his eyes. "That''s insane! Why are you even doing it? What''s the chance you''ll find something good and not your own death?! You aren''t some god''s son; stop acting like it!"
"You have no idea how funny the last thing you said is," Ethan says, smiling. "Until recently, I thought that I was at the pinnacle of what a human can be, ready to face anything sent my way. It turns out I was just a big fish in a small pond."
"What does this have to do with risking your life?" Sylas asks, edging the water.
"I need to take every opportunity I have to grow stronger," Ethan answers. He carefully resumes his steps, ensuring that each of them lands on something solid enough to bear his weight. "Sooner or later, I''ll face the man I hunt. And that day, I''ll have only one chance to make things right."
Sylas watches silently as Ethan disappears into the mist, Russ whining a few meters away.
As Ethan enters the mist, he sees the outlines of the tree, further away than he originally perceived. Its trunk is metallic, smooth like polished steel, yet exuding an organic nature. In some area, the bark is mottled with intricate patterns that shimmer with a faint light. Golden leaves garnish its branches, their fallen brethren floating peacefully on the lake.
The roots of the tree twist and coil into the depths of the lake, pulsing with an inner light. The air around the tree is thick with Ether, visible as soft swirls of light.
At the center of the trunk, a small, glowing object is nestled, casting long shadows through the branches and leaves. Ethan feels its call, an insistent whisper that tugs at him. He approaches cautiously, closing the enlarged distance from the tree. From the exterior, it shouldn''t have been more than a few minutes away, yet Ethan finds himself walking for nearly half an hour.
"Ether manipulation leveled up," the voice announces as Ethan reaches the trunk.
As he nears the tree, the object''s whispers become clearer, speaking in an unknown tongue. It takes on the appearance of an apple, its surface carved by swirling gnarls. He reaches out, his fingers brushing against the textured, cold surface of the fruit.
The moment his fingers touch the apple, Ethan''s mind is pulled into a vivid, overwhelming vision. He finds himself floating in the vast expanse of the universe, with stars and galaxies swirling around him in a breathtaking dance.
The vision narrows its focus, zooming in on Earth. Ethan sees the planet in its entirety, its continents, its cities, and the satellites humanity has put in orbit. As he watches, the Earth begins to change. The colors drain away, replaced by a pure, blinding white. The transformation spreads rapidly, consuming the moon, the sun, and then the universe.
Ethan''s heart pounds in his chest as the vision expands once more, revealing a crystalline shard of the same white, held in the palm of a colossal hand. The hand belongs to a figure shrouded in darkness, its features obscured, but its presence powerful and malevolent.
The vision fades, and Ethan finds himself back at the tree, gasping for breath. Heat rises into his feet as his boots directly touch the lake. His heart races, and he reforms his protection. The apple-shaped object is now in his hand; its whispers are gone.
"Identification," Ethan mutters.
Chapter 56: Ishai - Part 2
Ishai fruit
Consuming the Ishai fruit triggers a profound transformation within the eater, evolving them to the zenith of their species.
After consumption, the individual will experience vivid visions of the past and potential futures.
The eater gains the ability to speak Aetherian, the primordial tongue spoken by the gods.
???
Legends say that the Ishai fruit was created by the Elder god, a gift to the worthy. It is believed to grow only in the sacred Ether sources, hidden from the world and protected by ancient guardians.
Ethan''s mouth dries up as he reads the description. ''I have a feeling the ancient guardian is the corpse I found,'' he thinks. ''Why are there question marks? Is it because my Identification ability isn''t high enough?''
Blood-vessel-like vines creep into the center of the trunk, joining where the fruit was to form a small black core. Ethan stores the Ishai fruit in his haversack.
A glint hurts Ethan''s right eye, coming from his peripheral vision. A featureless human rises from the source of Ether, its body made of the same water as the lake. It stands emotionless, its head turned in Ethan''s direction.
A wave of Ether emanates from it, passing through Ethan. "A tool. Not a man," the thing says in perfect English, its voice disturbingly androgyne. "An instrument molded in the flames of hatred, clinging to its vengeance."
"Rude," Ethan says, insulted by the entity''s words. "If you speak my language, would you mind telling me the reason for your appearance?"
"The will of the world doubts you. And so I am," it answers. A guardless blade, resembling a ninjato, grows from the water alongside it. "I will test you; ensure you won''t be a waste of his gift."
''His? If the fruit is a gift of the Elder god, why does it refer to it as a man?'' Ethan ponders. He pulls out Skysong and hides Dark fate behind his left forearm. ''I can''t use Strengthening or cast spells as long as I maintain the protection shielding me from the lake.''
It grabs the handle of the Ether sword in a fluid motion, taking a relaxed stance. Ethan looks around, weighing his options. "Fleeing is not an option," the creature says as Ethan thinks of it.
The creature moves with grace, its blade shimmering with the tree''s light. Each step it takes ripples through the lake, sending waves of Ether through Ethan.
Ethan tightens his grip on Skysong, feeling the unfamiliar weight of the spear. "Insight," Ethan mutters, but nothing appears. His heart pounds in his chest as he''s unable to gauge his opponent''s strength. With a deep breath, he steps forward, his stance mirroring the calm determination of his adversary.
The creature strikes first, its blade cutting through the air with a speed that Ethan barely registers. He parries, the impact sending a shudder through his arm. The creature''s blade eats away at Skysong''s steel, leaving glowing scars on the spear.
He retaliates with a series of strikes, aiming for the creature''s chest. The entity moves with precision, deflecting and dodging his attacks. Each time their weapons meet, the Ether sword damages Ethan''s spear.
Ethan shifts his style to more unpredictable movements that avoid the creature''s blade. Avoiding a blow, Ethan sees an opening for a kick and places it on the creature''s stomach. The attack leaves a glowing tear on the creature''s body, a feat far greater than what his spear achieves.
Ethan jumps back, stashing Skysong into his haversack. He spreads his threads of Ether along his right hand and forearm, forming a tight net.
They circle each other, closing the distance separating them as they look for an opening. Ethan loosens his body, melting away any tension as he prepares to engage in hand-to-hand combat.
The creature lunges again, its Ether sword slicing through the air. Ethan sidesteps, letting the creature overextend. Despite the non-existent distance, Ethan hurls his leg at the creature''s head. It blocks with its free arm, only for it to shatter like broken glass.
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Ethan continues his movement, twisting his hips to hit the creature''s head and pushing it towards the ground. It yields under Ethan''s strength, skidding on the lake''s surface.
Ethan resumes his relaxed stance as the creature rises to its feet. Its arm regenerates, flowing back from its shoulder like crystallizing water. "Dangerous, fear, not yours," the creature says.
"I''m not scared; you must be talking about yourself," Ethan says. "You are right; this isn''t my style. It belongs to the most dangerous man on Earth."
"One," the thing says. "No blade, no gun, only body made weapon."
"The kid truly has a gift for it," Ethan says, approaching the creature. It refrains from attacking, even as Ethan enters its reach, protecting its chest with its blade.
Ethan feints a punch with his left hand, then deflects the creature''s counter with Dark Fate. He spins the dagger between his fingers, placing it on the back of his hand. Ethan ceases to draw Ether with his left arm, forming a net of Ether around his left hand. He grabs the creature''s right forearm, relying only on the Ether he stores. He pulls it and punches through its chest, his right fist shattering the creature and its weapon.
"You leveled up," the voice announces, its tone weirdly warped and filled with static.
Ethan halts the protections he made around his hands and resumes absorbing Ether through them. "A moment later, and I would have consumed life force to maintain those shields. They cost so much Ether in comparison to my abilities," Ethan mutters.
Two of the creatures rise from the water, each in an opposite direction from Ethan. One holds a metallic card, while the other holds the Ishai fruit. Ethan''s heart skips a beat; he checks his haversack, calling for the fruit, but nothing comes.
"Your friend will perish when he enters the Realm of Ascension, as did his father," the two say in unison. "This card will save him from this fate, though you could choose to use it for yourself," the one holding the card says.
"Let me guess," Ethan begins. "I can only choose one of those, forever losing the other."
"Choose," they say in unison.
''Is this a second test?'' Ethan thinks. His stomach churns with acid as he weighs the options. ''Is it set in stone that Sylas will die when he enters the Realm of Ascension? Is there such a thing as fate? The fruit spoke of possible futures, or is it only because the insight it gives changes the outcome?''
"He means nothing to me," Ethan mutters, turning towards the Ishai fruit. ''Listen to me, lying to myself,'' he thinks. ''His situation is my fault. If I hadn''t been here, he would have retired just as he planned.''
He clenches his fists, feeling the weight of responsibility pressing down on him. ''Though I''ve only known him for a short time, he trusts me. He helped me, carrying me to the sanctuary that saved my soul.''
Ethan turns back, his eyes locking onto the creature holding the card. He takes a deep breath, his decision crystallizing in his mind. "I''d rather have no regrets the day I leave this world," he says, stepping towards the one holding the card. His voice trembles slightly, but his resolve is firm.
As he pries the card from the entity''s hand, a sense of calm washes over him. The choice, though agonizing, feels right. "I''ll find another way to become stronger, but not at the cost of an innocent life," he says.
The creatures vanish, leaving Ethan alone with his thoughts and the card in his hand. He looks at it, the metallic surface glinting in the dim light. "Identification," he mutters.
Perfect class card
Injecting Ether into this card will grant you a new class. This class will be the one most adapted to your skills, abilities, characteristics, and character, disregarding any skill requirement.
You will not be given an opportunity to refuse it.
Ethan stores the card carefully in his coat, his heart still heavy. He glances one last time at the tree, turning on his phone to take a picture of it. He turns his back to it, walking towards the shore.
The way back feels shorter, as if the disparity in space had vanished. Sylas exhales a sigh of relief as he sees Ethan leave the mist, his example followed by Russ, who wags his tail.
Ethan steps on solid ground, dispelling his shields. He turns to Sylas, pulling the card out. "I got this for you," he begins. "Promise me you won''t let it go to waste. That you will make the most of this second chance and grow strong enough to face the Realm of Ascension."
Sylas touches the card, and a window appears before him. His mouth opens slightly as he reads the description. "Are you sure about this?" Sylas asks, his voice tinged with disbelief and gratitude. "You could need it too."
Ethan nods, a faint smile on his lips. "I''m sure. But in exchange, you''ll become my assigned blacksmith, crafting me the tools and armor I''ll need. And I have no doubt I will need many."
Sylas takes a deep breath, then pries the card and channels his Ether into it. A bright light envelops the card, shedding to reveal an illustration, a silver edge, and a name: Arcane Smith. Another window appears before Sylas, detailing the class.
Arcane Smith
The Arcane Smith is a master craftsman whose expertise goes beyond the physical realm. With a profound understanding of Ether and magic, they forge weapons, tools, and armor imbued with powerful enchantments.
Every four levels in the Arcane Smith class will grant you a Strength point and a characteristic point. Starting at level two, every four levels in the Arcane Smith class will grant you an Intelligence point.
Lv.0: Enchanting, Magic resistance
Lv.5: Inventory
Lv.10: Ether infusion
Lv.15: Runic enchanting
Lv.20: Soul enchanting
''If ascended classes grant as many characteristic points as Harbinger, I truly must change soon. Unless it''s because of the class''s rarity,'' Ethan thinks.
Sylas stares at the vanishing card, absorbing the details that appeared in front of it. "I don''t know how to thank you," Sylas says, his voice thick with gratitude.
Ethan grabs the backpack filled with Wyrdium and walks towards the tunnel. "I told you how," he says. Exiting the narrow passage, Ethan senses an object in his hand. He looks down and sees himself holding the Ishai fruit. ''So, it was a test,'' Ethan thinks before stashing the fruit, a faint smile on his face.
Chapter 57: Revelation
Ethan slips into a shadowed alley, checking the position of the sun to guess the time; it is seven o''clock sharp. ''Hide,'' he orders Russ as he conceals his face under a hooded clock and his wooden mask. He searches for unwanted individuals through predator''s sight but finds none.
Two figures wait at the end of an alley, hidden in the long shadows projected by the dimming sunlight. Ethan''s lips curl into a hidden smile as he approaches them.
"Evening," Ethan greets, his voice low. "What news do you have for me?"
Marcus, an imposing man concealing his guard captain''s armor under a cloak, glances around before speaking. "Cole is adapting to his new station. He gave the guard all the necessary information for us to destroy Tobias Polsted."
"But the man was nowhere to be found; we guessed he had been disposed of," the woman standing next to him continues. She''s another captain, one who works in a different part of the city.
Ethan nods. "And Viktor Blackwood?"
Cassandra, the woman of the duo, answers, "He''s being held and questioned in the palace, but hasn''t said anything yet. It is likely that he will escape a death sentence based on his status alone. He must think he could resume his connections once out."
"But I''ve heard rumors that the regent is planning on transferring him to Stormshackle, a prison located on an island," Marcus continues. "He appeared as a generous man to the population; publicly executing him would have unwanted side effects. And he cannot be secretly executed, as it would tarnish the regent''s image."
"Keep an eye on his situation. I will have to deal with him the day his sentence ends, or he will become a problem," Ethan says.
"Of course, sir," Cassandra says as if answering to a superior. "This is all we have for you today."
"Very well," Ethan says. He pulls out two pouches, each holding twenty golds, and hands them to the captains. "And remember, your cooperation keeps you out of trouble. I doubt you have the renown to escape a death sentence."
Both captains stiffen, their expressions a mix of fear and resentment. With a final nod, Ethan turns on his heel, leaving the alley as silently as he entered. He takes his time to go back to Russ, surveying the surroundings with predator''s sight.
Passing along the terrace of a restaurant, Ethan spots Sylas sitting alone at one of its tables. He hasn''t been served anything yet, not even a drink. ''Is he waiting on a date?'' Ethan ponders.
Russ lets out a small, sharp bark as he sees Sylas. ''Shush,'' Ethan orders before turning his gaze to Sylas. He waves at Ethan, a faint smile on his face. He motions to join him, pushing the opposite chair with his foot.
Ethan sits at Sylas''s table, waving at a waiter to signal their presence. Russ lies down under Ethan''s chair, silently scanning the various patrons. Contrary to their table, everyone here wears expensive clothes and jewelry. Some stare them down with a look of indignation.
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The terrace gives them a view of the ocean, its waves emitting calming sounds in this peaceful evening. The restaurant also has an interior room and an open kitchen. Its team works tirelessly in coordinated chaos.
Ethan glances at Sylas''s hip, from which hangs a long sword and its scabbard. "I see you''ve got yourself a weapon," he notes.
"I''m planning to forge one for myself," Sylas says. "But in the meantime, I borrowed this one to train at the upper city''s garrison. They agreed for me to join their practice in exchange for a donation."
"That''s a good thing," Ethan says. "With your talent, you''ll soon be a great warrior. Perhaps you''ll make a good sparring partner next time we meet."
They wait for long minutes, during which the waiters avoid them. "I guess we aren''t welcome to eat here," Sylas says. "We should leave and find a place that will serve us. I''ll come eat here another day, when I look richer."
"Did you specifically want to dine here?" Ethan asks.
"Edgar told me I should," Sylas answers. "According to him, it¡¯s the best restaurant in Opal, home to the best chefs beside the regent''s personal team."
Ethan removes his ring of aura manipulation. It releases unseen waves that undulate the surrounding threads of Ether. The entire restaurant turns to him, visibly sickened by the disturbance.
"What is happening?" Sylas asks. "It''s as if we were back in the mountains; I can feel the treads clashing against my skin."
"When you condense enough Ether in your heart, it starts affecting the surrounding threads," Ethan explains. "I''ve yet to learn how to avoid that side effect without using this ring. There are several people in this city who do, but you can still feel their presence if you''re close enough."
"Who?" Sylas asks.
"The noble girl who was in your shop when I came for the quest does it," Ethan answers. ''It''s orders of magnitude more evident when she''s fighting,'' he mentally adds.
Sylas puffs. "You shouldn''t refer to the regent''s daughter as a girl," he says.
A man wearing a stained white apron approaches their table. "I apologize for the rudeness of our staff," he begins. "Would you be inclined to restrain your aura?"
Without a word, Ethan re-equips the ring, silencing his aura. The man motions for a waiter, ordering him to service their table as he returns to the kitchen.
The waiter hands them a one-page menu filled with hand-copied options for three-course meals. He fakes an inexpressive face, but Ethan can''t help but notice that he''s annoyed with their presence.
None of the names correspond to any dishes he knows, but their descriptions are more evocative. "I would like the lamb and a bottle of red wine, one with hints of cedar and spice," Ethan says.
The waiter''s expression shifts to a welcoming smile as he hears Ethan''s priestly elocution. "Would you fancy an appetizer? Or something for your furry companion?" he asks, suddenly more accommodating.
"A venison pat¨¦ for me, and he would love it if you had meat peels or offal," Ethan answers, handing him back the menu.
"A cheese board and the lobster," Sylas orders, holding his menu in front of the waiter.
The waiter nods and enters the building. Ethan uses predator''s sight to scan the surroundings, ensuring that no one is actively listening to them.
"I thought your red eyes were to see in the dark. Why are you using them now?" Sylas whispers.
"They help me in that regard, but this isn''t their main purpose," Ethan says. "They let me see and hear from very far away; it''s useful to spot hidden creatures."
"That''s how you knew that the skullgors were waiting for us," Sylas realizes. "Is someone following you?"
"I don''t think so," Ethan answers. "How are your wounds?"
"A priest healed them; I''m just feeling a bit rusted in my shoulder," Sylas answers. "If you want to change subjects, let''s talk about a weapon that would be good enough for you."
"There will be time for that later," Ethan dismisses.
The waiter comes back, delivering their appetizers, glasses, and wine to the table. He places a plate filled with discarded chunks of meat, bits of liver, and kidneys before Russ.
As the waiter leaves, Ethan pours himself a glass. ''He didn''t even let me taste it,'' he mockingly thinks. He spins the red beverage with his wrist, apprehending his next words. ''If only I could teach him everything Earth learned about blacksmithing, he would be an invaluable asset. But I cannot wait until our next meeting, or he could disappear, as he has no reason to do as I made him promise.''
Chapter 58: Revelation - Part 2
Ethan sips his glass, the flavors spilling across his tongue in a delightful combination. "Everything tastes so much better in this world," Ethan begins. "Each of the ingredients is distinctive and filled with flavor and substance. Nothing like the wines I''m accustomed to."
"A week ago, you were insulting an ale for not being up to your standards," Sylas says, trying the wine himself.
Ethan smiles. "The quality of the ingredients doesn''t automatically make for a better final product," he says.
A look of realization crosses his face as he lowers his fork onto his plate. "This world?" Sylas slowly asks. He places his hand over his mouth, stopping himself from reacting aloud. Lowering his voice, he says, "That makes so much sense. ¡ But I''ve never heard of humans crossing over."
Ethan takes the time to eat a bite of his appetizer. "It has only been three weeks since our worlds collided. But I''ve seen signs that others, like me, crossed over."
"Three weeks," Sylas says. "Then it must be pretty similar to ours for you to be this strong."
"Quite the contrary. Ether and monsters are a new thing for us, though, as I said, I was one of the strongest," Ethan replies. "I am surprised that you know about the other worlds; I feared that I would have to explain the notion to you."
Sylas chuckles softly. "My father used to frighten me with tales of the first orc invasions. Initially, they arrived in small groups, but soon portals opened, unleashing their armies upon our world. Back then, the continent was united under one banner, yet it took all of humanity''s strength to resist them."
"I read from one of Elowen''s books that the orcs appeared in the year 512." Ethan says. "What year are we in? And how long are your years?"
"Those weird questions are more understandable now," Sylas notes. "A year takes four seasons, each of which lasts ninety-one days. We are currently the 33rd of Autum 873."
''Three hundred and sixty-four days a year. This is too close to be a coincidence. Or is it a survival bias? I wouldn''t be here if Earth were too close or too far from the sun,'' Ethan thinks.
"What you told me about your father," Sylas begins. "Was it even true?"
"It is," Ethan answers. "I do not know how yet, but the man I seek killed my father in my world while belonging to yours."
The waiter approaches, their main course in hand. They stay silent as he exchanges their empty plates for the next ones. "Is everything to your liking?" he asks.
"Yes," Ethan says.
Sylas digs in. As the waiter leaves, he asks, "How is it? Your world."
Ethan takes a sip of his drink, considering how to explain Earth to someone coming from the Middle Ages. "My world, ¡ is different," he begins. He looks at the horizon, glancing at the vast expanses of greenery. "We''ve pushed our world to its limits with our numbers. Without monsters to stop us, we conquered everything and built cities sheltering millions of people."
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"How much is a million?" Sylas asks.
"A thousand times a thousand," Ethan answers, glad that they count in base ten. "Given its size, Opal must have around a hundred thousand inhabitants. Our cities are ten times as large, sprouting stacked homes taller than the palace."
Sylas''s gaze turns to the side as he imagines it. He seems to struggle to grasp the idea.
"We have ways to instantly speak with each other across vast distances, as if we were sitting at the same table. We can cure most illnesses, and people usually live to see their eightieth birthday," Ethan continues.
"Beside noblesse, our life expectancy is around forty years," Sylas says, his eyes gleaming. "How old are you?"
"Thirty-six," Ethan answers. "We built carriages powered not by horses but by fire. On them, the journey we made from the sanctuary would have taken us an hour."
Sylas''s imagination struggles even more, the confusion clear in his complexion. They pause, eating some of their meal. The lamb melts on Ethan''s tongue, its naturally rich flavors enhanced by a mustard and garlic sauce.
"Do you remember the magical artifacts I spoke of two nights ago?" Ethan resumes. "Some of those, even though they are not magical, have the power to destroy our world at the whim of a few powerful and aging men."
Sylas swallows his food with an audible gulp. "So what? Is everyone scared that they could die at any moment?" he asks. Glancing to the side, he adds, "Perhaps it''s not different from the dangers posed by some monsters."
"It has been a threat for nearly eight decades; a lot of people simply forget it, unless they are actively reminded of their existence," Ethan says. "What are those monsters?"
"We occasionally hear stories from the dark continent," Sylas says. "But here, it would be Cinderis, the Scorching Scourge. She is a dragon who decimated a country a few decades ago, only to be stopped by an anonymous adventurer."
"If she has been dealt with, she isn''t a problem anymore, is she?" Ethan says. "I hope there is a chapter on her in the history book I bought."
"There are rumors of sightings," Sylas says. "Tales of a great beast that obscures the night sky, its wings covering entire villages."
"A dragon¡," Ethan begins. "My world''s stories contain many of the monsters I encountered in yours. Hell, even our animals are the same; this lamb tastes better, but with the same flavors I remember."
"What is hell? I have heard you use that word before, but I have no idea what it means." Sylas asks.
"For you, I guess it would be the abyss," Ethan explains. "It''s the place where the sinners go when they die, according to one of the most influential religions we have."
Sylas drinks his remaining wine, exhaling a refreshed breath. "Why are you telling me all of this? I don¡¯t even know your name," he asks.
"It''s a dangerous name to know," Ethan says. "There are very few people I''m even remotely close to, but this isn''t the reason. The next time we meet, I''ll teach you what my world learned of your art. Thousands of years of knowledge and tools you will use to fulfill your promise."
Sylas stays quiet, unable to reply. The waiter comes to their table, taking away their empty plates as he hands them a dessert list.
"Nothing for me," Ethan says. He picks up Russ''s empty plate, handing it to the waiter along with the menu.
Sylas takes his time, struggling to choose between the options. "Two strawberry cr¨ºpes, ¡ and a lemon pie," he orders.
The waiter nods and leaves, taking their empty plates with him.
"When will that be?" Sylas asks.
"It depends on my obligations; I''ll only know after going home. It could be a week as much as it could be a few years," Ethan answers. "You can leave this city if you need to. Just make sure I can find you when I come back."
"Of course," Sylas says. "I''ll make sure that the forge''s staff always knows where to find me."
''I know I should tell him about his father. But it would only hinder him, making him even more scared of the Realm of Ascension'', Ethan thinks.
"Something on your mind?" Sylas asks.
"Nothing you should worry about," Ethan says, placing five gold coins on the table.
"I can''t let you pay," Sylas says, searching his pockets.
Ethan smiles softly, standing up from his chair. "Don''t worry about that. You can pay next time," he says. "I will let you eat your desserts in peace; I have a world of work to get back to."
Sylas''s gaze remains on Ethan as he leaves the terrace.
Chapter 59: Evolution
Reappearing in his manor''s main living room, Ethan turns on his phone. He glances at the updated time, confirming that only two weeks have passed. It vibrates without a notification, and Ethan answers the hidden call.
"Welcome back, Reaper five," Tombstone says. "You are right on time; how did your vacation go?"
Over the course of a long conversation, Ethan explains everything, omitting only Maelor, Sylas, and the Ishai fruit. "And now that I''m back, I''ll jump under the shower. Their notion of hygiene is ¡ lacking," he concludes.
"I should have everything. I''ve got a new assignment for you, but it can wait until tomorrow," she says. "You should turn on the news; a lot has happened in your absence."
"Will do," Ethan signs off before ending the call. He walks over to the large, flat-screen TV mounted above the bar and grabs the remote. The screen flickers, displaying a news channel.
"In other news, the mysterious series of disappearances has continued to baffle authorities. Thousands have gone missing worldwide, and the relevant authorities have yet to find any leads."
Ethan tosses his phone onto the couch and heads towards the bathroom. He strips off his travel-worn armor, stepping into the shower and relishing the feeling of hot water. As the steam of the high-pressure stream envelops him, he closes his eyes. Then, he sees thin, but undeniably present, threads of Ether.
''Am I able to sense them because I became more proficient, or did they appear while I was away?'' he ponders. Drawing on them, he uses predator''s sight to listen to the news.
"Tensions continue to rise as two new Russian warships go missing in the Black Sea. The U.S. and Europe reported that they are investigating the event, hoping to disarm the situation."
The hot water cascades over Ethan''s body, washing away the grime of his journey. He turns up the heat as his body accustoms to it, soon reaching the highest setting.
"The Swedish prime minister announced that his country''s prisons are over capacity. The surge of worldwide criminality puts a strain on every judicial system. Urging some governments to consider more drastic solutions."
As the steaming water begins to feel lukewarm, Ethan turns off the shower. He wraps a towel around his waist and heads to the master bedroom, the dampness of his skin cooling rapidly as the water evaporates.
"In brighter news, the food shortages hitting several major cities in Europe are ending as army transports come to the rescue."
Ethan opens the wardrobe to find an array of clothes, ranging from simple shirts to high-end suits. He chooses one of the black suits, along with a white shirt and a red tie. It feels ample around his abdomen, as if it had been cut for someone taller. "I don''t remember well, but I think my father was taller than I am," Ethan says to Russ, who watches silently from the door frame.
"And we now welcome Major Matthias Striker, leader of the unit that hunts the ones who use their new abilities to terrorize our population."
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As Ethan reenters the living room, he sees the immaculate uniform of Striker, his face marked by more scars than when they last met.
"Good evening," Striker begins, his voice steady and commanding. "To those using their powers to threaten society, I will give only one warning: we will find you."
Ethan unlocks his phone to scan various social media sites as he listens to the TV. ''Looting, violent riots, and crimes of all nature in every part of the world,'' Ethan summarizes as he watches clips shared by witnesses. ''Some people seem to have built their own little kingdoms, fighting off authorities when they come knocking. But society seems to otherwise endure.''
"You think you can use your abilities to harm others and get away with it?" Striker leans forward, his face carved by anger. "We will hunt you down. We will bring justice to your door. And if you think you can outsmart us, think again. We are watching. We are ready. And we will crush any resistance with an iron fist."
Ethan turns off the TV as the studio cuts Striker''s microphone. He places his phone on the coffee table before him and pulls out the Ishai fruit. He stares at it, its strange surface emitting a blinding light.
''The transformation it promises could be a tremendous advantage, but what if it makes me stand out too much?'' Ethan ponders. ''Will I even be myself afterward?''
Russ jumps on the couch, lying beside Ethan, to rub his head against Ethan''s leg. He looks at the fruit, his tongue moving across his lips as he wants a bite.
"Yeah, you would eat it without a second thought," Ethan muses. "I already have another soul in me, so what would be the trouble of a few more visions?"
Taking a deep breath, he brings the fruit to his lips, feeling its energy pulse through his fingertips. As he takes a bite, a surge of Ether floods his body, and his sight blurs. The world around him fades, replaced by a vivid vision.
He finds himself in an opulent ballroom, the air filled with the sounds of an unseen orchestra. He holds a woman, the both of them dancing in a perfectly synchronized manner. She turns her head, and Ethan realizes that he''s holding Thea Dawnstar, though she appears shorter than she should be.
He blinks, finding himself back in his living room, the Ishai fruit still in his hand. Its sweet taste lingers on his tongue, calling for another bite. Ethan''s arm moves outside of his will, and he eats more of the fruit.
The world shifts again; the living room dissolves into a landscape of chaos. Ethan''s senses are assaulted by the sounds of clashing metal, the smell of blood and sweat, and the roars of warriors.
He finds himself clad in heavy, battle-worn armor, standing in the middle of a city turned battlefield. The sky is dark, filled with clouds and the sounds of thunder. Before him, a tide of green-skinned orcs tramples forward, their war cries shaking the air.
Behind him stands a man clad in golden ornate armor, his blade reflecting the surrounding fires. His voice cuts through the battle, "We fight not for ourselves, but for our homes, for our families! If my death can give our king another hour, another minute, or even another second to reach us, I will gladly give my life! And so will you, for the fate of mankind rests in our hands!"
A roar of defiance rises from the soldiers, drowning out the orcish war cries. Ethan loses himself in the rhythm of battle, his body moving on instinct, his mind focused solely on the fight.
Suddenly, the vision shifts. The battlefield fades, replaced by his living room. Ethan stumbles, the fruit still in his hand. He takes a deep breath, his heart racing, the echoes of battle still ringing in his ears.
"Melee Weapon (Long sword) leveled up (x5). Adding the Armor (Heavy) skill. Based on your previous experience a level of 10 has been applied," the voice says.
Russ watches him with wide eyes, letting out a few quiet whines. The fruit beckons him to continue his meal; its strange whispers reappear, filling Ethan''s mind.
He fights against the urge, his mind wrestling with the fear of losing himself. The whispers grow louder and more insistent, urging him to bite.
Russ nudges Ethan''s leg, trying to bring him back to reality. Ethan raises the fruit to his lips once more, feeling its energy surge through him. As he takes another bite, the world around him dissolves into pitch-black darkness and utter silence.
Chapter 60: Evolution - Part 2
Ethan opens his eyes, gasping for air. He finds himself on the beach of Phantom Rock, the island he spent a year of his life on. The sun nears the horizon, casting long shadows amidst the orange landscape. He feels the same as when meeting Maelor in his temple''s garden, convinced that he''s in a vision.
He glances around and finds Maelor sitting on a rock. The priest''s robes undulate in the wind as he watches the horizon. He sips on a coconut, the bubbling sound reaching Ethan''s ears.
"They turn execrable the more you drink," Ethan says, stepping to Maelor''s side. "Thank you, for saving Russ."
"This is my first time trying one," Maelor begins. "And thank you for saving Sylas. ¡ You were so angry last time we met, yet you are almost amicable today."
"Last time, I was scared for the first time in decades, scared of losing my mind," Ethan answers. "Today I''m just passing by; at least I think I am. Why are you thanking me for? I doubt you knew Sylas."
"I''ve seen kids like him before. Rapid growth is a curse and not a blessing," Maelor says. "They grow so fast that most enter the Realm of Ascension by the age of fifteen, never to be seen again."
"I''ve read and heard a lot about that place," Ethan says. "But I am unsure of what to think about it, as no one seems willing to write about their experience."
"You''ll do fine," Maelor says. "That place tests you in many ways, using every weakness it can find. But it is nothing for someone strong of both body and mind."
Maelor''s revelation pushes Ethan to ask, "Did you ascend?"
"Indeed, I was a High-Priest. I died a level away from my second visit to the Realm of Ascension," Maelor answers. He takes a pause, sipping on his drink. "This isn''t over. I''m not meaning it as a threat, but as a warning. Our souls are still fighting, even if you can''t feel it for now."
"I know," Ethan begins. "Elowen told me that raising my Willpower was only a temporary solution."
"What do you intend to do then?" Maelor asks, turning his gaze towards Ethan.
"Perhaps I could resolve your unfinished business in exchange for a little knowledge," Ethan says.
"You propose it as if you wouldn''t benefit from my departure," Maelor quips. "I know what you want. I can tell you everything about the man you are looking for. But before that, you will find the Etherlight Crucible and bring it back to the citadel of light."
"Not set on changing my ways anymore?" Ethan jests. "What can you tell me about it? The Ether it emits, the individuals it could interest, anything really."
Maelor gazes into the void, remembering the past. "It emits light Ether with an intensity equivalent to that of the source of Ether we visited. But the second my killer placed his hand on it, I sensed it disappear."
"You were dying," Ethan says. "Perhaps you stopped sensing Ether all together."
"No, I clung to life long enough to sense the demon''s Ether," Maelor denies. "When I traveled alongside the artifact, I glimpsed into its aura. And I sensed that the Etherlight Crucible wasn''t the source of its Ether, but something trapped in it."
"I wonder if there is a place where I could find more information on it. Beside your citadel, of course; its priests would attack me on sight," Ethan says. "I cannot be the only one searching for it."
"Seraphel would have tasked his most devoted servants with this quest," Maelor confirms. He gazes back at the ocean, his expression darkening. "You saw your world disintegrating. Yet, aside from the moment it happened before your eyes, it seems you aren''t preoccupied by it."
"I live on a dangling line, a misstep away from death. I''ve made my peace with that," Ethan says. "But I''ll still try to stop it; almost everyone I know lives on Earth."
"How?" Maelor asks, placing his empty drink on the sand. "This sounds like an empty promise."
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"I don''t know yet. I hope the fruit will grant me another, more precise vision," Ethan reassures. "But in the meantime, I have business to attend to. I''m sure a guy like you wouldn''t mind ridding the world of an arm dealer that killed thousands, including children."
Maelor lowers his gaze, his face darkening further. "I''ve seen those memories of yours; they haunt me every single time I try to rest."
"I recall them sometime in my nightmares. No matter how accustomed to death I am, seeing their agonizing, desperate remains is heartbreaking," Ethan says. "But One has it worse than me, having lived it."
"You can use his real name; I won''t tell," Maelor jests.
"No one knows it, not even himself," Ethan says. "But perhaps his status showed it to him."
"You should ask him next time you meet," Maelor says before letting out a sigh. "Why couldn''t you give him a normal life? You had the money, the influence, and the contacts to build one for him."
Ethan inhaled slowly, settling himself on a rock near Maelor. "The turmoil I saw in him mirrored my own all too well. Left alone, forced to hide his emotions to fit into society, he would have become a real monster. So, I did what Four... what Lucian did for me: I made him strong enough so no one could ever harm him again and gave him a semblance of family where he could truly be himself."
"If that''s what you tell yourself," Maelor grumbles. He stands up, following the sun as it edges the ocean. "You saw what I went through; it didn''t make me a monster. I chose to help whomever I could, to make my world a better place."
The sun dips lower, painting the sky in hues of deep orange and purple. Without another word, Maelor walks away, his robes fluttering in the sea breeze.
Ethan looks at the waves crashing against the shore, their sounds becoming increasingly louder. His sight blurs as his ears fill with a piercing whistle; the rock below him turns softer.
Ethan finds himself back in his living room, comfortably seated on the couch. The distant chirps of birds reach his ears, along with Russ''s breathing.
"You gained three Strength points. You gained three Dexterity points. You gained three Constitution points. You gained three Intelligence points. You gained three Charisma points. You gained three Perception points. You gained three Willpower points," the voice announces.
Ethan feels something in his hand and raises it to eye level. It resembles an avocado seed, its surface gnarled and dotted with glowing cracks. ''Identification,'' he thinks.
Ishai fruit seed
The seed of an Ishai fruit that may only grow in the solitary quietude of an Ether source.
Ethan glances around, his gaze falling on the tinted bottles above the bar, their colors more vivid than he remembers. His skin maps every seam, loose threads, and imperfections of his clothes. The rays of sunlight passing through the windows warm his chest, illuminating the long ginger hair that flows over his shoulders.
"Adding the Language (Aetherian) skill. Based on your previous experience a level of 50 has been applied," it continues.
Ethan tries to speak in Aetherian. His heart empties of Ether at the first syllable, pulled in its entirety into his throat. He pauses, closing his eyes to restore his Ether from the surrounding threads.
"You obtained the Prescience ability," the voice adds.
''Prescience,'' Ethan hesitantly thinks. A spectral version of Russ appears around him, highlighting his presence. It moves an instant before the dog, its predictions seemingly exact. Ethan feels the flow of Ether that the ability guides to his eyes and increases it. Russ''s spectral double splits into several versions, depicting futures further away in time.
''This will be ¡ insanely useful,'' Ethan thinks, his jaw dropping slightly. ''But I hope these aren''t the visions of potential futures the description was talking about.''
"You gained the Oracle talent. You gained the Pastseer talent. You gained the ??? talent," the voice concludes, the name of the last talent a mix of incomprehensible gibberish and electronic noise.
Ethan opens his status to see three question marks instead of the talent''s name.
Ethan Reed
Lv.16 (Harbinger) High-Human
Class change available
Strength: 26 + Charisma: 15 +
Dexterity: 23 + Perception: 19 +
Constitution: 23 + Willpower: 26 (24) +
Intelligence: 23 +
Available characteristic points: 4
Talents
Oracle
Pastseer
???
Titles
Dungeon conqueror (D)
First dungeon conqueror (D)
Dungeon conqueror (E)
Dungeon conqueror (F)
First dungeon conqueror (F)
First hunter
Goblin hunter
Hobgoblin hunter
Kin slayer
Kobold hunter
Skeleton hunter
Slayer of the first incursion
Warg hunter
Abilities
Anonymity (E)
Identification (F)
Insight (F)
Piercing shot (E)
Predator''s sight (E)
Prescience (F)
Silent steps (F)
Spell casting (E)
Strengthening (F)
"High-Human? It said, the zenith of your species," Ethan recalls. "I was under the impression that it would improve me as a human. Perhaps remove my appendix and my coccyx and reinforce my body. But did it mean that I had several species available? English sure is a pain sometime."
Russ stares at the status window, impatience filling his gaze as he longs to go outside. Ethan checks his phone for hidden notifications.
"Tombstone hasn''t manifested herself yet," Ethan says. "I should have some time to choose my class and test my body. After we get you your bathroom break."
Chapter 61: Evolution - Part 3
''It should be here,'' Ethan thinks, pushing the door of a room filled with tatami mats. A mirror makes up one of the walls, reflecting Ethan''s new appearance. Countless weapons of different origins and ages hang on the walls, all in pristine condition.
Russ rolls over the mats, scratching his back on them. "Here, down," Ethan orders, pointing at a spot near the door. He approaches the mirror, turning his head as he scans his more pronounced jaw line.
"I''ll need to go see a hairdresser; this long mane is disturbing. ¡ I was already a tall man," Ethan says, removing his shirt to reveal his sculpted body. "I''ve probably gained a good ten centimeters, making me a hundred and ninety-five. I didn''t gain much muscle, but their definition definitely improved. I hope it won''t make me less enduring; this low of a body fat percentage isn''t any good."
He closes his eyes, sensing the Ether that flows through him. The threads cross his skin with better conductivity than before, gathering into his heart in greater quantity.
''Perhaps I could try to cast Silence again,'' Ethan thinks. He models the complex white runes of the spell in his mind, focusing on each intricate detail. His heart pounds with the intensity of the magic flowing into his mind and then into his hand.
Ethan opens his eyes, now glowing with the power of the spell. He raises his hand, releasing a wave of Ether with a snap of his fingers. It spreads out in a perfect sphere like a wave, undulating the surrounding threads. The room''s Ether turns still, leaving Ethan''s body unable to absorb it.
The spell nearly emptied Ethan''s Ether reserve but doesn''t consume anymore once cast. ''The first time I tried it, I felt that it would have used three to four times as much Ether as I could hold,'' he thinks.
The threads of Ether resume their movements, refueling Ethan''s heart. ''The duration leaves to be desired,'' he notes. ''Perhaps it will last longer the more proficient I become with it.''
He moves to one of the walls, grabbing a halberd from a display. "Class change," Ethan says, summoning the array of cards. To his surprise, spectral cards, less opaque than the rest, float among the classes he unlocked.
They bear illustrations and names, and when stared at, they reveal the conditions to unlock them. ''I''m not using Prescience; it must be an effect of Oracle," Ethan guesses. "It seems I always fulfill at least one of the requirements; it must not be listing every class."
He looks at a silver-edged card called the Slayer. ''Reach level ten with at least ten melee weapons. Obtain the Kin Slayer title. Obtain at least five Hunter titles,'' he reads. "Let''s try this one, just to see if it''s real.
He steps to the center of the dojo, taking the stance that naturally comes to him. In his mind, he conjures an image of Viktor Blackwood. The man had been a formidable adversary, with the ability to counter Ethan''s moves. Ethan focuses on the memory, bringing the figure to life.
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The room around him fades away, replaced by Opal''s underground arena. His opponent stands in front of him, his stance poised and ready. Ethan''s halberd slices through the air with a sharp whoosh. Viktor mirrors his movements, their blades clashing in a flurry of strikes. The imagined sound of metal-on-metal echoes through the dojo.
"Adding the Melee Weapon (Halberd) skill. Based on your previous experience a level of 13 has been applied," the voice announces.
Ethan stops his blade mid-slash, dispelling the opponent he summoned in his mind. Russ stares at him with an annoyed look, as he always does when Ethan shadow fights.
Ethan reiterates the process with a new weapon each time. Each weapon he picks up feels unique; its weight and balance call for a different style. The voice continues to announce his new skills. He tests a glaive, a short sword, a great sword, and a katana.
The Slayer''s card fades in, its illustration identical to its spectral copy. Curious, Ethan taps on it.
Slayer
Slayers are relentless melee combatants known for their ability to escalate their lethality as the battle rages on.
Every two levels in the Slayer class will grant you a Strength and a Dexterity point.
Lv.0: Sharpening
Lv.5: Critical strike
Lv.10: Slayer''s mark
Lv.15: Fury
Lv.20: Edge of oblivion
"So, it was real," Ethan says to Russ. "But this class shares the Fury ability with the Warbeast. Too bad I can''t get a description of the abilities," he says, pointlessly tapping on Fury.
He searches the spectral cards for other classes he could unlock. ''There''s a sniper class for which I need the concealment skill at ten. Shouldn''t I have unlocked it for wearing camo when rescuing Specter nine?'' he thinks. ''Perhaps I need to actively hide from something.''
''The only other silver class is Arsenal. I need to reach level ten with at least ten melee weapons, ten ranged weapons, three armors, and three shields,'' he reads. ''Was my coat not counting as armor because it''s as light as clothes?''
He walks over to a piece of armor, a breastplate that hangs against a wall. He removes it from its display and dons it. He moves around to see if the skill triggers, but the voice remains silent. "Russ, missile!" Ethan orders.
Russ jumps to his feet, looking around for his target. Ethan taps on the breastplate, and Russ runs at him. He leaps, landing his four paws on Ethan''s chest and sending him to the ground. Rolling to his feet, Ethan says, "You''ve gotten heavier."
"Adding the Armor (Medium) skill. Based on your previous experience a level of 3 has been applied," the voice announces.
Ethan sighs. "Missile," he orders, bracing himself to absorb the impact. Russ kicks him to the ground several times, raising the skill''s level.
They continue with a gambeson to unlock the light variant of the skill. Using a buckler, targe, and then a kite shield, Ethan engages in shadow fights with Viktor, learning the remaining skills.
The Vanguard appears in addition to the Arsenal. Ethan taps on the new silver card.
Arsenal
Arsenals are highly adaptable warriors, skilled at thriving across diverse combat scenarios. These combatants are akin to walking armories, dedicated to mastering every facet of the art of warfare.
The Arsenal''s level is capped by his highest weapon, armor, or shield skill on a five-to-one ratio.
Every two levels in the Arsenal class will grant you a characteristic point.
Lv.0: Inventory
Lv.5: Rapid martial growth
Lv.10: Martial echo
Lv.15: Shared martial skill ascension
Lv.20: Weapon aura
''If Rapid martial growth is anything like Sylas''s talent, it could let me catch up with a lifetime of training,'' Ethan thinks. He ponders for a long time, comparing each of his unlocked classes. "I choose ¨C"
Ethan is interrupted by his phone vibrating in his pocket, and he picks up the call. "Welcome back, Reaper five," Tombstone says. "I have a new mission for you."
Chapter 62: Evolution - Part 4
"Do you have anything new on the Plague Merchant? Or am I to hunt someone new?" Ethan asks.
"You are to join Reaper six and Specter nine in Dubai," Tombstone says. "We have an occasion to eliminate three targets who gathered in the same area. This includes the Plague Merchant."
"Are you still leaving One out of the picture?" Ethan asks. "He wants nothing more than to eliminate him."
"Like we previously discussed, his actions around the Plague Merchant are nothing short of suicidal," she refuses. "Without mentioning that he''s already on a mission."
Ethan sighs. ''They better not be hiding anything from me,'' he thinks, the thought angering him.
"It appears that following your rescue of Specter nine, Ghaya''s leaders had an internal fight, and only Yasin Hakeem remains." Pictures of urban battlefields and of the man follow each other on Ethan''s phone. "He''s your second target, and our client is paying extra for any additional dead Ghaya''s members."
"Those are already two high-level targets," Ethan says. "It feels unlikely for them to converge at the same place without a common goal."
Tombstone confirms, "It isn''t a coincidence. Your third target is a woman named Valeria Vex, an arm dealer with connections, suppliers, and clients all over the world. Our intelligence suggests that they plan to meet her."
"Suggest?" Ethan says, surprised. "It''s rare of you to be uncertain when it comes to intel."
"This is a rare opportunity," she says. "And our clients are growing impatient; those three cases are starting to date. Valeria Vex has been on Six''s plate for nearly as long as you began to hunt the Plague Merchant."
"If we hadn''t dealt with dozens of other targets in the meantime, it would feel like you are questioning our efficiency," Ethan jests.
He can hear her chuckle slightly. "Then you can prove it once again by dealing with those targets," she says. A series of maps highlighting hotels, hideouts, and local contacts slide on Ethan''s phone. "Our countermeasures are all active in Dubai, and you''ll be able to access weapons and vehicles from our local suppliers."
Ethan silently absorbs the information, memorizing everything he can. "Will I be able to meet Six and Nine, or are we to act separately?"
"I was about to tell you. The three of you will meet at the Royal Crescent Hotel, where a suite has been rented," she says. "Given the suddenness and importance of the situation, you are to work together. While it endangers your anonymity, we deemed it necessary."
"Very well," Ethan says. "Anything else I should know that I won''t find in the target packages?"
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"I had a hit on the portrait we found under your home," Tombstone says. An old picture appears on Ethan''s phone, followed by a late-nineties one, and then a recent image. "I''ve found several instances of his presence as a wealthy American businessman. Officially, his company has switched hands between father and son for around a hundred years. But given that his appearance hasn''t changed, it is likely that he doesn''t, or slowly ages."
"Where is he now?" Ethan asks. He realizes that he grips his phone with enough strength to bend it and relaxes his hand.
"It is unknown at the moment," Tombstone says. "He''s extremely discrete, and who knows what abilities he can use now."
"At least we know what company he owns. After Dubai, I will investigate them," Ethan says.
"I''ll collect every piece of information I can and send it to you," Tombstone says. "Your plane tickets and new passport are waiting for you at Jasper''s."
"Tell him that I need an adjustment on the height to one ninety-five," Ethan says.
Tombstone stays silent for a moment. "Did you experience a late growth spur?" she asks.
"Kind of," Ethan answers. "I ate a fruit from the other side and grew taller."
"That sounds better than breaking your bones and pulling them apart for weeks," she jests. "I''ll tell him; your papers will be available tonight. Good luck, Reaper five."
The call ends, and Ethan stores his phone in his pocket. He looks back at the class cards that have been floating around him. "I almost made a mistake," he jests to himself.
He takes his time to read every class he unlocked, hoping to use that knowledge against enemies who chose them. He takes pictures of the non-rare ones and sends the lot to Tombstone.
"I choose Arsenal," he says. The card vanishes as the new class appears on his status.
Ethan Reed
Lv.16 (Harbinger) High-Human
Lv.0/20 (Arsenal)
Strength: 26 + Charisma: 15 +
Dexterity: 23 + Perception: 19 +
Constitution: 23 + Willpower: 26 (24) +
Intelligence: 23 +
Available characteristic points: 4
Talents
Oracle
Pastseer
???
Titles
¡
Abilities
¡
Inventory (F)
"Inventory," Ethan says, but nothing happens. "Hum, how does this work?"
He pulls out Dark fate from the haversack and tries again, focusing on the dagger. "Inventory." As he speaks the word, the weapon vanishes into a glowing mist and digs into his hand. He moves his arm, expecting pain as it crosses his skin. He feels nothing but a slight tingle.
"Inventory," he says again, visualizing the dagger as he does for the haversack. The blade reappears in his hand. ''This is quite the upgrade,'' he thinks, looking at the haversack.
Holding the haversack in front of him, he thinks, ''Inventory.'' It blurs but soon returns to its normal state. ''That would have been cheating,'' Ethan mocks in his mind. He empties the bag into his inventory.
Closing his eyes and thinking the word, he sees what his body holds. Everything is stashed in a small, though twice as large as the haversack''s, space.
He spends a few minutes exercising by summoning and storing items as he moves. ''This ability barely costs any Ether,'' he thinks. ''But this also means that anyone could be hiding undetectable weapons.''
With a snap of his fingers, he casts Silence. As the spell freezes the Ether, he tries to summon Skysong, but nothing comes. ''Good,'' he thinks. ''That''s an unpractical but available solution.''
Ethan stretches his back, turning to Russ. "That''s early morning, and we have to wait till tonight. So, what about a small run of a few dozen kilometers? I feel like it would be nothing now."
Russ barks in response as if he understood the suggestion, happily waging his tale.
Chapter 63: High altitude
As he listens to an audiobook in Arabic, Ethan can hear Russ whine in his mind, not out of fear but out of boredom. ''We are still above the Black Sea; you are going to have to wait another three hours. I hope your neighbors aren''t too noisy,'' Ethan thinks.
He finishes a sketch of the Flame spell, hoping to find a hint on how the Eldorian sigils mold the spell. ''Heat, protection, wind, moisture, skin, forward, fuel, burn. I removed light and cleanse from the original spell, but how does the rest fit together?'' he thinks.
A piercing jet engine''s sound reaches Ethan''s ears, disappearing as soon as it appears. He looks through the plane''s windows, triggering Predator''s sight to see a F35 flying through the clouds.
''That''s odd,'' Ethan thinks. ''Something serious must be happening for a high-tech fighter to be deployed in the region. Is it about the destroyed Russian warships?''
"Are you a mage too?" Ethan''s neighbor asks as he sees the drawings of runes in Ethan''s notebook. "What spell is this?"
Ethan turns his gaze to the man wearing a graphic t-shirt featuring an obscure coding joke. A laptop adorned with stickers rests on his feeble legs, displaying an IDE. He has a disheveled look, with a mop of unruly hair and glasses perched on his nose.
"Too?" Ethan replies, caught off guard.
The man nods, curiosity in his eyes. "Yeah, I got the Mage too. But I haven¡¯t been able to learn any other spells besides Lightning bolt. I''ve been trying to modify it since Ether appeared, but I haven''t been successful yet."
"Modify a spell," Ethan mutters. "Did you make any promising progress?"
"Kind of, but without knowing what the runes mean, it''s kind of guesswork," he says.
Ethan hands him his notebook. "Can you draw your spell?" Ethan asks.
"Sure," the man says, scribbling it on a new page.
''I already modified a spell, but it nearly killed me,'' Ethan thinks as he watches the man work.
"Here you go," he says, handing back the notebook.
''Perhaps he could have a few insights in spellcasting,'' Ethan thinks. He annotates the two spells, translating the Eldorian runes into English.
"How?" the man asks, stars shimmering in his eyes. "Where did you learn that language?"
Ethan hands back the notebook, keeping an eye on what the man does. "I got lucky."
The man stares at the drawing, his pupils almost dilated. "When you cast it, where does it start forming? And where does the magic exit before reaching your hand?"
Ethan adds the entry and exit points to the drawing. The man annotates the spells with hypotheses. "The Ether passes by each symbol successively, turning into ¡ fire."
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"Indeed," Ethan says. "The intensity of the flames depends on the intensity of the Ether I pour into it. And I was able to will it into a small ¡ fireball."
"The symbols of your fire spell diverge into two paths," the man says. "The first contains the symbols for fuel, wind, heat, burn, and forward. And the second contains moisture, protection, and skin."
"What do you mean by diverge?" Ethan asks.
"The structure behind the symbols is like a circuit that splits and then joins at the exit point," he explains.
"So, it''s matter, intent, and then area of application," Ethan says. "But the circuit of your spell is different."
"I think each symbol has its own entry and exit points. We share the forward symbol, and its side is connected in the same way to its predecessor."
"Then, does it mean we can use any symbol we know to create new spells?" Ethan asks.
"Perhaps," the man says. He draws a new spell using moisture, heat, burn, and forward. Placing the pen by its side, he closes his eyes and extends his hand.
"Don''t blow up the plane," Ethan mocks. As the man struggles with his mind, Ethan visualizes the Shield spell but replaces the last word, sphere, with skin.
A layer appears around his skin, slightly lifting his clothes. ''It costs more than the original version, but it''s discrete,'' Ethan thinks.
"You learned the Dermal shield spell," the voice announces.
The man opens his eyes, a small jet of vapor escaping his palm. "I did it," he says, a smile on his face. "It called it Boiling gale."
"You should learn my spell too," Ethan says. "As a thank you for the insight."
The man closes his eyes once again, blinking several times to double-check the Flame spell. As the man focuses, Ethan casts Lightning bolt, killing the screen embedded in the seat before him.
"You learned the Lightning bolt spell."
''But why did I need an entire book to learn my first spell?'' Ethan asks himself. ''It cannot be all there''s to it. It must be more complex and have more depth."
Ethan feels a pull on his mind, as if he were about to be drawn into a vision. He glances around, checking that no one else has noticed their conversation, and lets go.
The vision takes him to the depths of a forest, illuminated by the two moons. The place is filled with luminescent plants and unknown insects. Ethan and a small group of children are gathered around an old teacher. His robes are woven with Aetherian runes, and his eyes shine with Ether.
The young mages listen intently as he speaks, their faces illuminated by the ethereal glow of the flora. The air hums with magic, even if Ethan cannot sense any thread of Ether.
"Is there a difference between the spells I create and the ones I learned from the spell book?" one of the youngsters asks.
"There is indeed," the old man answers. "The tomes given by God inscribe in your mind the perfect version of the spell they contain. However, if the spell were written in Aetherian, merely molding it in your mind would drain your Ether and Life force. This is why they are translated into our mortal language. As you mature, both in your ability to cast spells and in your mastery of Ether, these spells will transform into their original, divine form."
''The runes on his robes orbit around notions of protection; I can read shield, barrier, ward, ¡'' Ethan reads before his vision blurs.
Ethan finds himself back in the airplane as his neighbor conjures a minuscule flame, hidden in his hand. ''This wasn''t one of Maelor''s visions,'' Ethan thinks. ''It must have been coming from Pastseer.''
As he refocuses on his surroundings, Ethan notices a stressed passenger with a medieval-looking bag. The man¡¯s eyes dart around nervously, and he checks his phone repeatedly.
Anxiety spikes as Ethan triggers predator¡¯s sight, sensing three other similarly aged and stressed people on the plane. Each of them has an out-of-time bag at their feet, through which Ethan cannot see. ''Those are all haversacks,'' Ethan confirms with dread. ''Just my luck. And on a plane of all places.''
Scanning the rest of the plane, Ethan searches desperately for an air marshal or equivalent. He senses the cold metal of a handgun resting in a man¡¯s belt but realizes that that man¡¯s heartbeat is dangerously low. ''They already started,'' Ethan thinks.
Chapter 64: High altitude - Part 2
"Excuse me," Ethan says to his neighbor, standing up from his seat. He traverses the plane towards the restrooms closest to the cockpit. ''The plane is barely a fifth full, and many are sleeping; that''s a good thing,'' Ethan thinks.
He glances at the stressed men. They are all dressed in different ways, but Ethan can smell the same cocktail of odors coming from the two he passes. One of them glances at Ethan, his eyes betraying his anxious mental state.
Ethan reaches the area next to the cockpit, where he finds the restroom and the stocks for the flight attendants. ''Four targets to neutralize, with unknown abilities. And they can only be discovered after we land and exit the plane.'' Ethan thinks.
''I can sit behind them and kill them with debilitating hex'', Ethan thinks. ''But other passengers could sense the Ether that is drawn to my body or the spell itself.''
''I can''t access the hold without damaging the plane, and their bodies would be found when they unload the cargo,'' Ethan''s mind continues. ''And even if I neutralize them, they could be found before I get Russ back. I need to stop whatever they are planning and make their best option to not act at all.''
Ethan takes a deep breath, playing the various scenarios in his mind. He enters the restroom to play the part and triggers predator''s sight to eavesdrop on them. He waits for a few long minutes, but they stay silent.
Ethan steps out of the restroom and casually makes his way back towards his seat. Passing one of the men out of the others'' line of sight, he abruptly sits beside him. Ethan summons Dark fate and stabs its tip into the man''s side.
The man opens his mouth to let out a scream, but not a sound exits it. Ethan''s debilitating hex, fed with the dark Ether drawn by his dagger, completely paralyzes the man. Ethan only uses his dagger''s dark Ether, avoiding any risk of a passenger sensing the spell.
The man tries to move his fingers to tap something on his phone, but it falls from his weakening grip. Ethan catches it and reads, ''Step one. Got the guard. Are we sure they aren''t any more? Viper told us it would only be him. Get ready for step two; we wait until the attendant gets near me. The big ginger guy seems dangerous. I''ll kill him when we start; no need for a hero.''
"It''s laughable that you think you could kill me," Ethan mutters as he reads the last message sent from this phone. Plane mode is active on the phone, revealing that their application is a proximity one. The man''s eyes lose focus as he falls unconscious, his weakened heart unable to oxygenize his brain.
Ethan keeps his dagger''s tip in the man''s flesh until black veins appear on his neck. ''He should be out for a few hours,'' Ethan thinks. As he cancels his hex, Ethan doesn''t hear the man''s heart restarting. ''Fuck,'' he thinks. ''If he dies, it will trigger an investigation, and it will be a mess.''
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Ethan places his finger on the man''s chest and casts a weak Lightning bolt. The electric arc restarts the man''s heart, but he doesn''t wake up, despite the intense pain it should cause. ''Good,'' Ethan thinks.
With the man''s phone in hand, Ethan moves to an empty row. ''The remaining three are all sitting near witnesses,'' Ethan thinks. ''Perhaps I could attract their leader to my first victim.''
He taps on their app: ''I can''t do it.'' He hits send and watches the reactions through predator''s sight. One of them looks at his phone and then towards the seat of the supposed sender. He looks around suspiciously, his scarred cheek and bald head giving him a wrathful look.
''What do you mean you can''t do it?! All you must do is get the target under control,'' Ethan reads. He spots the sender by the sound of his fingers tapping on his phone at the back of the plane. ''You just stand up and point your gun at him!!''
Ethan glances at the seats before his victim. A young man, perhaps in his early twenties, sits there, watching an action movie. ''Who''s that kid?'' Ethan asks himself.
Ethan types a response: ''Something is off.'' The bald man stands up, his eyes scanning the plane. He moves towards his sleeping co-conspirator, his haversack in hand.
As the man approaches, Ethan puts on his earpieces and starts a video, faking to be innocently watching something. The man reaches his colleague''s row, and his heart skips a beat. ''Don''t be stupid,'' Ethan thinks.
The man resumes his steps, passing along Ethan and sitting next to his accomplices. "Jacob is down," Ethan hears him whisper through predator''s sight.
"The fuck," another whispers a little too loudly, attracting a passenger''s attention. "What do we do?"
Their phones vibrate, displaying a text from Ethan: ''You stay idle, refraining from furthering your plans.'' They look around and above their seats to scan their neighbors.
The scared man taps on his phone. ''Who are you?'' Ethan reads. They look around, trying to see who receives a text.
Ethan watches them through predator''s sight, every small movement magnified in his mind. He takes a deep breath, the remnants of dark Ether killing the hint of apprehension he should feel.
Ethan types another message: ''Does it matter? If you don''t want to end up like Jacob, you''ll do as I say.''
The bald man''s eyes widen, his grip on the phone tightening. He looks at his companions, his voice barely above a hushed whisper. "I''m going to find him; we''ll start the moment I kill him."
''Motherfucker,'' Ethan thinks. He taps: ''Good luck'' and places the phone in his inventory.
The bald man tenses as he reads Ethan''s message. He pulls out a Glock from his haversack and hides it in the front pouch of his hoodie.
The man walks down the aisle, glancing left and right at each passenger. He taps repeatedly on his phone, sending a single character in a repetitive manner. His head turns as he tries to focus on his hearing.
His two accomplices watch the aisle, their right hands in their haversacks. ''That''s getting out of hand,'' Ethan thinks. ''I can''t feint to go towards the back, as he just saw me use the front restroom. And if I disarm and grab him as he passes me, his friends will know where I am.''
''I could take him out if the lights were off,'' Ethan thinks, glancing at the various LEDs illuminating the plane. He places his hand around one on the side of his seat and forms the Lightning bolt runes in his mind. ''I hope the breaker for the lights isn''t shared with the rest of the plane.''
Chapter 65: High altitude - Part 3
Darkness engulfs the plane as Ethan throws electricity into the lights'' circuit. Screams erupt from the awake passengers. ''Strengthening, silent steps,'' Ethan thinks, instantly reaching the bald man.
With his left hand, Ethan grabs the man''s handgun through his hoodie and racks the slide, ejecting the chambered round. Ethan hurls his right fist at the man''s head; the impact feels like hitting concrete.
Scale-like Ether shapes formed at the surface of the man''s skin, absorbing the impact. He pulls the trigger by reflex, unaware of his weapon''s condition. The man pulls out a knife from his haversack and slashes at Ethan''s side. Ethan lets go of the handgun, releasing the slide that racks a new round and deflects the knife.
The man pulls out his Glock, loosely aiming at Ethan''s chest. ''Inventory,'' Ethan thinks, summoning Dark fate into his right hand. He stabs through the man''s wrist, stopping him from pressing the trigger.
The man opens his mouth to scream; Ethan uncurls his fingers and stabs them in his throat. Ethan''s blow, inflicted with maximum strength, crushes his vocal cords despite his protection. Ethan pushes him into an empty row, moments before the screams die down.
The Glock falls to the ground as the man tries to place his unresponsive hand on his throat. Ethan ensnares the man''s neck in his arm, pressing until he falls unconscious.
''He''ll bleed out before we land,'' Ethan thinks. He unbuckles the man''s belt and ties it around his forearm, using his knife to twist it and form an improvised tourniquet. Ethan grabs a blanket from the pouch in the seat before him and covers the man with it. ''Sleep tight,'' he mocks in his mind.
The lights turn back on. The two remaining enemies stare into the aisle; their phones vibrate as Ethan sends a message from his second victim''s phone. ''You lost half of your manpower. Stay put; you''ll need to be two to escort your friends out of the airport; they are in bad shape.''
Their hearts pound in their chests as sweat pearls from their foreheads. They look at each other and push their haversacks below the seats before them. Ethan taps a last message: ''Wise decision.''
He grabs the Glock of the man he just neutralized. ''How did you get your hands on a Glock 46? That''s a German police exclusive,'' Ethan asks himself before storing it in his inventory.
Ethan waits for the two remaining men to stop looking down the aisle and rejoins his original seat. His neighbor stopped working on his code; instead, he grips his armrest tightly. "Scarred of a faulty breaker?" Ethan asks as he sits down.
"I thought we were getting attacked by a beast," the man answers. "I''m always nervous when I fly, but my company keeps sending me all over the world."
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"What are they sending you to do in Dubai?" Ethan asks.
The man looks to the side, clearly thinking of a lie. His shoulders tense up, and his hand moves from the armrest to rub the back of his neck. His eyes dart back and forth, avoiding Ethan''s gaze. "Just, uh, some technical support work," he says, his voice strained and unconvincing.
"Flying across the world for tech support, you must be more than skilled at your job," Ethan says. He looks down at the man''s code, but the preview displayed on the right side of his screen is that of a personal website.
''Trevor Hastings,'' Ethan reads on the login details of the IDE. ''I''ll ask Tombstone for intel, just in case. I already need more information on the attackers and their target anyway.''
"Language (Arabic) leveled up," the voice announces as Ethan turns the podcast back on.
After landing in Dubai, Ethan discreetly follows the four men. They leave the airport, moving with suspicious caution, constantly checking their surroundings. Outside, the two able men hail a cab, and Ethan does the same.
Using predator''s sight, Ethan eavesdrops on them, transmitting the address they gave their driver to his. The city of Dubai sprawls around them, lights and towering buildings illuminating the night. Their cab weaves through the traffic, distancing Ethan''s.
Ethan''s driver stops in an isolated industrial area. Ethan pays and slips out of the cab with Russ. He approaches the closest warehouse, sensing them inside through predator''s sight. They are speaking in hushed tones, bandaging the wounds of Ethan''s victims.
''Hide,'' Ethan orders. He steps inside, his presence unnoticed, until he is almost upon them. The men whirl around, their eyes widening in shock.
Before they can react, Ethan extends his hand, dark tendrils swirling in the air. They fall to their knees, their bodies paralyzed by Ethan''s hex.
"Who are you working for?" Ethan asks.
Their eyes widen in fear and confusion as they struggle to resist the paralysis. One of them manages to rasp out, "We¡ we don''t know. We''re just hired guns."
"That''s not good enough," Ethan says. "Who hired you? What were your orders?"
"Please¡we don''t know the real name," another wheezes. "We get our orders through a proxy. Calls, encrypted messages. We were told to capture Ayden Verity, crash the plane to make it seem like he died, and deliver him in Iraq."
"33.595, 44.885," the bald man adds. "They were going to pay us five million each for the boy. You can have it all if you help us fix the situation."
Ethan''s eyes narrow, the tendrils of his hex wrapping tighter around their bodies. "Who is Viper?" he asks.
"Alright, alright!" the bald man yells, tears filling his eyes. "Viper is our handler. We don''t know his real name. He gives us jobs, weapons, and instructions. He is the one who gave us the bags and the Anonymity books."
Ethan considers their words, looking for any signs of deceit. They seem to be genuinely terrified and clueless. ''Tombstone might be able to track their handler down with one of their phones,'' he thinks.
"But he failed to tell us someone was looking after the boy," their leader adds.
"I''m not," Ethan says. "You just took the wrong plane, and I can''t have loose ends."
Ethan releases his hex to cast Flame. Fire erupts from his hand, roaring to life and engulfing the men. Their screams are brief, the flames consuming them in mere seconds.
"You leveled up. You leveled up. You leveled up," the voice announces.
The fire illuminates the warehouse, casting flickering shadows as it burns. Ethan watches until the flames die down, leaving nothing but charred remains. He exits the warehouse, the cool night air a stark contrast to the heat inside.
Chapter 66: Reunion
After double-checking the location on his phone, Ethan knocks on a steel door found on the side of a nightclub. A slit opens in the door, revealing a pair of manly eyes that scan Ethan.
"Where the golden dunes meet the sky, there lies our secret," Ethan mutters in Arabic. "A mirage only real to those who live in shadows."
The man closes the slit. A series of locks click open, and the man holds the door for Ethan to enter. He can hear music reverberating through the concrete walls, along with the steps of its listeners.
Four men, including the doorman, keep watch. They are all equipped with heavy plate carriers and M4s. A man wearing a purple suit and golden shoes appears from another door, with a cort¨¨ge of followers behind him. They push a series of imposing concert equipment crates, placing them around Ethan.
"I don''t remember ever seeing you in my humble shop," the man says in English. His accent is burlesque; he chops his words, adding ample hand movements to each of them.
"A common acquaintance recommended your shop for the most recent upgrades to your selection," Ethan says. "I''m looking for a few things, but most important of all, I need something for a big, tough game."
"Then you came to the right place," the man says. With a hand motion, he orders his followers, and they open the crates, creating a vast display of weapons. He grabs a cartridge from one of the crates and approaches Ethan. "The added powdered Ether crystals in the propellant doubles the exit velocity of these 7.62x51 cartridges. Steel casing to withstand the pressure, and a bullet core made of steel harvested from golems. I''m running low on them, and I fear that my supplier won''t be able to produce more with the absence of new monsters."
"How successful are they in penetrating body armor, or even armored vehicles?" Ethan asks as he glances over the displays. "And surely, they must require a reinforced firearm."
"Fifty BMG resilient plates have been on the market for a few years now, even if they just stop you from being dismembered when you die. Those bullets go right through it," the merchant answers. He grabs a HK417 from the same crate. "The last of a special order; its internal components are made of titanium and tungsten. I''m sure you''ll immediately notice the increased weight; I assure you that this is the sole difference with the model you must be familiar with."
Ethan grabs the gun, cycling it to ensure the emptiness of the chamber. He checks the accessible custom parts and aims the rifle at a far wall. "I''ll need a four-time ACOG, a deported sight, and the three twenty-round magazines you have available," Ethan says.
"Very well," the man says, clapping his hands. He motions at another crate, filled with medieval knives, daggers, and short swords. "Could I interest you in blades? I have a selection brought by our invaders."
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Ethan glances at the weapons, sensing their effects on the surrounding Ether. They pale in comparison to his dagger and spear and would break if he were to fight with them.
"I have no need for a new blade. However, I''d like something to deal with many targets at once ¨C something loud," Ethan says as he walks up to a crate of shotguns.
"With your build, it would be a shame not to recommend the Vepr 12. It''s an upgraded copy of the Saiga 12, a semi-automatic magazine feed shotgun," the man says, handing Ethan the gun.
Ethan repeats his inspection and says, "A good recommendation; I''ll take it with three drums, fifty of your largest buckshots, and fifty sabots."
"Very well," the man says. "May I interest you in anything else?"
"Five M67 fragmentation grenades, five M84 stun grenades, five M18 smoke grenades, and five thermite grenades," Ethan lists. "I''ll also need four of your highest-rated ballistic plates."
The merchant''s assistants gather the items as Ethan lists them, placing everything in a large duffle bag. The merchant writes on a notebook and approaches Ethan. "I''m sure you are aware of my payment modalities. Please transfer the amount to the account I wrote down."
''A hundred thousand. This improved riffle must cost a lot.'' Ethan thinks. ''But what if it isn''t enough to take down Tatiana?''
"You seem perplexed," the merchant says. "Anything else we can do for you?"
"How much for an AT4?" Ethan asks, already sending the details to Tombstone.
The man motions for an assistant to add the rocket launcher. "I''ll throw it in as a gift," he says. "I hope you''ll consider revisiting my shop the next time you need to restock."
"I can''t promise anything, but this was a pleasant experience," Ethan says. He sends the amount to Tombstone, and the merchant''s phone rings almost instantly.
"It''s a pleasure doing business with you," the merchant says, motioning for his assistants to dismantle his shop. "And remember, you don''t know where you bought all of this. Would someone ask."
"Of course," Ethan says as he leaves the building. Once outside, he places everything in his inventory and orders, ''Come.'' Russ runs at him from a dark spot in the alleyway.
Ethan enters the room rented by Tombstone with Russ on his heel. It opens into a spacious living area with floor-to-ceiling windows that offer a view of Dubai''s skyline. The morning sunlight creeps in, illuminating the room with a warm, golden glow. ''I haven''t slept in twenty-three hours, yet I don''t feel a hint of fatigue,'' Ethan realizes.
The furniture is plush and modern, with a large sectional velvet sofa. A steaming cup of coffee rests on a low glass table, along with a vase of fresh orchids. A massive flat-screen TV dominates a wall in front of the largest side of the sofa.
"Five?" Kyle asks from behind the bathroom door. "I was beginning to wonder if I was going to see one of you today."
"I had to handle a small issue after leaving the airport," Ethan says.
Ethan steps inside the living room, glancing to each side. To the left, an elegant dining area features a long mahogany table surrounded by high-backed chairs. A well-stocked bar, complete with a selection of fine wines and spirits, stands nearby.
The bedrooms on the right are equally lavish, each with a king-sized bed. Each room has its own private balcony, furnished with comfortable loungers.
"I''ve never met or even heard of Six before. How is he?" Kyle asks.
"Talking while you''re in the bathroom is quite weird," Ethan comments. "Why the question? You''ll meet soon enough."
"I just want to know what you think of him. I wouldn''t want to say something I shouldn¡¯t," Kyle says. Ethan spots a slight change in Kyle''s voice, as if he went half an octave higher. Suspicious, Ethan triggers predator''s sight and sees a feminine figure through the wall.
Chapter 67: Reunion - Part 2
"Come out; I know it''s you, Kate," Ethan says. "You''ve gotten better; you almost got me this time."
"Level seventy-seven mimicry, and yet you saw through it in a matter of six sentences," she says, her voice turning to a beautiful feminine melody.
Her voice is like a perfectly tuned instrument, with each word flowing smoothly with a soft, melodious tone. There is a hint of playfulness in her inflection. As she steps into the light, her presence matches the allure of her voice. Her eyes sparkle with mischief, accompanying a knowing smile. "You''ve grown taller," she says as her brown eyes fall on Ethan.
Ethan feels a strange, almost magnetic pull toward her. He tries to shake off the feeling, perplexed by the immediate and overwhelming attraction he feels. Her appearance is captivating ¨Calmost too perfect. Kate''s skin glows softly, highlighting her exquisitely delicate features. Her chestnut hair cascades like a silken waterfall, shimmering in the rising light.
"You''ve grown ¡ prettier; I didn''t think it possible," Ethan comments. His senses tell him that Ether emanates from her, passing over his body. "But there''s something unnatural to it, isn''t there?"
Her smile widens, and she takes a step closer, her movements graceful and fluid. "We both profited from the system. I missed those muscles of yours; why did you have to lose them after the island?"
Ethan feels like her very presence is enchanting him, making it impossible to look away. "I had to. ¡ It was making me stand out too much."
She laughs softly, a sound that sends shivers down his spine. "I''m glad you earned them back. What do you say we put our new bodies to the test?"
Ethan narrows his eyes and snaps his fingers. The surrounding threads of Ether freeze as he unleashes a Silence spell. "Not now. Nine could come back anytime now."
Kate straightens up, moving her head away from Ethan. "You are no fun," she says. "It could take him another few hours to arrive in Dubai."
"Ok. You don''t drink black coffee. In fact, you need so much milk and sugar that it shouldn''t be called coffee anymore," Ethan quips. Russ leaves Ethan to jump and roll on the sofa.
"I hate you," Six playfully says. She sits on the sofa next to Russ, but he gives a light growl and goes to another section. "He decided to go eat breakfast on his own."
"No room service?" Ethan asks, exploring the remaining corners of the suite. "Or did you scare him off?"
"I barely spoke that he was already mine; he is no fun," she mocks. "I doubt he ever had a woman in his bed."
"Seducing a target is literally a part of all Specters'' training," Ethan says. "Do you have any additional information on our mission?"
"Valeria Vex didn''t come here to sell anything; she''s here to recruit," Six says. "She is organizing what you could call a convention for black-market weapon manufacturers."
"How many actors are we talking about? Surely, they will all be armed and guarded," Ethan asks, pouring himself a cup of coffee.
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"Dozens," she answers. "But this gives us an occasion to blend in."
"I''m convinced that she knows every attendant; we won''t be able to invite ourselves," Ethan says, sitting beside Russ.
"I asked Tombstone to find us a participant we could dispose of and impersonate," she says. "I''ve brought my entire collection."
Ethan glances into the bedrooms. "I''m not seeing anything," he says. "I remember it taking up an entire room."
She explains, "My second dungeon reward was a haversack. It''s a bag that can store ¨C"
"More objects than it should, making them lose both shape and mass until you summon them back. I got one as my first dungeon reward," Ethan cuts.
"No fun," she mutters. "So yes, I have my entire disguise collection with me. I could erase all those great features of yours and turn you into the plainest of men. Or into a copy of another attendant, which I will probably do."
Kyle opens the door, a plate of pastries in hand. He exhales a sigh of relief as he sees Ethan. Russ stands up, waging his tail as he spots Nine.
"Hi," Kyle says as he places the plate down. He sits alongside Russ, opposite of Ethan, and scratches the dog''s chin. His eyes scan Ethan from head to toe. "You''ve changed quite a lot."
"You gained quite a lot of muscle yourself. I ate a fruit that grew at the bottom of a dungeon, and it made me taller," Ethan says. "Even if we can enter her convention, our targets might be hard to reach and kill, depending on their new abilities. The Plague Merchant has a guard, a bulletproof Russian woman, who can cast an impenetrable protection on others. As for him, I ignore his class, but it could be Poisoner or Alchemist."
"I''ve read that in Tombstone''s intel," Kate says. "Valeria recently hired a lot of new faces. It is likely that most of them are high-level or that they have rare and dangerous classes. As for her, I think she''s a Merchant."
Kyle continues, "Ghaya always had a hard time recruiting. But I''ve heard that Yasin''s inner circle has become extremely dangerous. During their power struggle, he and five of his men defeated around a hundred enemy soldiers."
"Someone has competition," Kate says, smiling at Ethan. "Any reliable solution for bulletproof enemies? I''ve read that you were able to kill one."
"High-caliber weapons," Ethan says. "But using a Barrett in close quarters is a no-go. I bought a new rifle, improved by otherworldly finds, but I haven¡¯t confirmed its efficiency. Worse case, I''ve got abilities that should ignore their protections, but I''ll need to get close."
"Speaking of abilities, should we know what each of us is capable of?" Kyle asks. "I''m a level fourteen Warrior with Endurance, Strengthening, Unyielding, Identification, Anonymity, and Vigilance."
Ethan and Kate exchange a glance without saying a word. "Do you know how the Reapers are ranked?" Kate asks Kyle.
"No," Kyle admits.
"We hunt each other in a tournament where duels take place in the real world. Be it the streets of New York or the depths of a South American forest," Ethan says. "With how much things changed, it''s only a matter of time before they organize a new one."
"And you don''t want others to know the extent of your abilities to improve your chances," Kyle says. "Guess I''ll see them when we get down to business."
''That, and I don''t want them to see that I''m a high human. Though I could change Anonymity to include my entire status except for my species,'' Ethan thinks.
"And he definitely wants his second place back, especially since he lost the last one on a technicality," Kate says. Her phone vibrates; she looks at it before placing it down on the table. "And here is our entrance ticket."
The phone displays successive videos of UAVs and UGVs on battlefields, tearing apart their opponents. A appears, showing a man in his forties who takes care of himself and presents a robust stature.
"Cyrius Hargrove," Kyle reads. "A seller of illegal unmanned combat vehicles. He supplies eastern special forces for their covert operations and various criminal organizations."
Kate continues, "He''s accompanied by several of his engineers and guards. Two of which look close enough to me, and Five. Which means that you''ll have to play his role, Nine."
"I guess I''ll start reading about engineering and robotics," Kyle says. "It''s a good thing that the system hastens the learning process."
"How much time do we have before Valeria''s convention starts?" Ethan asks.
"I doubt her attendants would come in advance," Kate says. "It will probably start tonight or tomorrow."
"Then we have no time to spare," Ethan says. "Where do we find him?"
Chapter 68: Competitors
"According to the bill of lading, the container is located in Terminal three. Here is his identifier," Ethan relays as he spies on Cyrius'' crew. The woman he''s spying on is flanked by two guards hiding handguns in their suits. They enter a black SUV that drives off into the port alongside a truck.
"Just as Tombstone predicted," Kate says. She''s leaning on a guardrail, dressed in plain clothes that hide her forms and weapons. "Six people, potentially twelve if six are hiding in the truck. Once they get their cargo, they will guide us to their hideout."
"Nothing tells us that he''s waiting for them," Ethan says. "They could very well stay separated until the last moment. And if that''s the case, we would lose our ticket to Valeria''s event."
"If that''s the case, we eliminate those once I hear her voice, and we call him for a ¡ problem that needs his attention," Kate says. "And if that doesn''t work, we ask Tombstone to trace back the call to his location and go find him ourselves."
"Unless he''s using one of the numerous ways there are to dissimulate his phone''s location," Ethan says. "In which case we could always ask Tombstone to spy on the local hotels'' cameras. He would want to escape the city as fast as possible if we threatened him."
"See, there''s nothing to worry about," Kate says. "Unless he can turn invisible or some other magical bullshit. You can never know nowadays."
As Ethan watches the small convoy, his mind drifts away. ''An instrument molded in the flames of hatred, clinging to its vengeance,'' he recalls the creatures from the source of Ether saying. The words sting his mind; he shakes his head, repelling the thought.
Kate approaches Ethan, leaning forward on the railing next to him. "Is there something on your mind?" she asks, placing her hand on Ethan''s.
Ethan pulls his hand free without force. He looks down, his hearing still focused on the convoy. "I may have a lead on the man who killed my father," he says.
"I know it''s been a long time since you told me," Kate begins. "But last time you were wavering, shaken by the hypocrisy of your situation. After all, you inflict on many children what this man did to you."
Ethan''s eyes darken, anger seeping into his voice. "After decades without even a sighting, I felt as if my rage had vanished, washed away with my other emotions. But now, we''ve found a lead, just a mere image, and it rekindled my unrelenting, seething hatred. I will have his head, no matter how hypocritical it may be. If someone wants revenge for what I''ve done, I won''t blame them, but they will have to fight for it."
"As if there was a man who could kill the Hand of Death," Kate muses.
"That''s a title I haven''t heard in a very long time," Ethan replies. "I doubt anyone but you remembers it."
She chuckles lightly. "La Mano de la Muerte is still a popular bogeyman in Bolivia. Mothers use your name to scare their children away from joining the cartels."
"The surveillance operators are knocked out," Kyle chatters in their earpieces.
Kate and Ethan exchange a questioning glance. "I guess it wasn''t you," Ethan says as he unmutes himself. He scans the port for any sign of suspicious activities, but the heat and many workers interfere with predator''s sight. "Any hint as to who did it?"
"The operators were strangled and hidden in lockers. They disabled the cameras and took the hard drives," Kyle explains. "I found a schedule; they took their shifts thirty minutes ago."
"What are the chances that they are after our targets?" Kate asks. "It could be entirely unrelated."
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Ethan closes his eyes, focusing on his enhanced hearing. A foghorn pierces his eardrums, shaking his mind as it vibrates loudly. Clangs of metal reach him from the crates hoisting metal containers. He scans the constant voices of workers shouting orders in various languages. Amidst this chaos, he spots whispers ¨C the voices of Chinese operators coordinating their approach.
Their leader lifts his fist to order a stop as workers pass before them. He says something on his radio that Ethan relays to Kate as best he can.
"Your accent is awful," Kate mocks. "He said that the target vehicles are on the move and ordered to ready the transport."
A truck starts near one of the terminal''s exits, a demilitarized Soviet transporter. Ethan moves down the stairs of the platform they were on. "I think that they are quite likely after our target. We can''t have them interfere, or we''ll lose our lead. And worse, it could reach Valeria''s ears, making her flee or reinforce her security."
"Nine, get the car in case we require an extraction," Kate says. "How many are there? We can''t just start a gun fight in an international port."
"Five on foot and two in an approaching military truck," Ethan reports. "I don''t intend to kill them here; I''ll only make sure they are unable to reach our target in time."
"What if they chase them?" Kate asks. She ponders for a second and suggests, "I''ve seen another truck just like the one our target is using. We could use it to make them chase us and dispose of them in an isolated place while Nine tracks the target."
Ethan plays the scenarios in his mind. "Agreed. Go steal the decoy truck while I handle the Chinese operators. Nine, get ready to tail the target."
"Copy," they both say at the same time. Kate disappears towards the entrance of the port. Ethan spots a worker''s uniform hanging on a hook and places it in his inventory.
Ethan takes a deep breath, sharpening his senses. He dashes with inhuman speed while using Silent steps, darting in the maze of containers and machinery.
Sliding at the end of a container, he ducks under a transport truck. He grasps the truck''s frame to sneakily move with it towards the terminal''s center.
The truck takes a wrong turn, and Ethan rolls off it. He continues his path, jumping between containers and scaling the stacks with disturbing ease. ''My body feels so light, and I''m not even using Strengthening. Yet, my mind is able to keep up; is that the effect of raising my Perception?" Ethan thinks.
Ethan spots the enemies from a vantage point. They are grouped together, speaking in low, urgent voices. Their leader fires incomprehensible orders through his radio. They carry suppressed MP5 knockoffs and plate carriers. A radio jammer is strapped to the leader''s plate carrier, but a red LED shows its inactivity.
Though it is weak, perhaps hidden, Ethan can feel a ripple in the Ether coming from their leader. ''He might be a problem if he can properly feed his abilities,'' Ethan thinks.
The targets stopped in front of a blue container. ''I need to attract a lot of workers to stop them from doing anything,'' Ethan thinks.
Ethan moves to a narrow passage between containers and quickly dons the yellow jacket and hard helmet he stole. He moves onto the nearest road and spots a forklift operator unloading a container.
"Disguise leveled up," the voice announces.
"What do you want?" the forklift operator asks as he spots Ethan. He tries to say something else but falls on the controls as Ethan''s hex neutralizes him.
''I hope you''ll get to keep your job,'' Ethan thinks. He pushes the driver, who falls to the ground. He turns the wheel and aims the forklift at the container nearest to the Chinese operators. Ethan pries a wrench from the sleeping man''s tool satchel and jams it behind the brake pedal, pushing on the accelerator.
The forklift screeches forward, ramming and impaling the container in an echoing metallic tear. Plushies'' fillings fly around, creating a cloud of cotton. The Chinese men lift their submachine guns, retreating between more distant containers. Workers flock to the accident site, taking pictures and videos of the situation.
"The targets took a single crate from the container and are leaving," Ethan mutters as he glances toward them. He uses predator''s sight to peer at the contents of the box and at what''s left in the container. "Their box contains an imposing mass of metal, but the rest of the container is filled with crated bottles."
The target convoy leaves the area, soon replaced by Kate, who parks in front of the container. ''Strengthening, silent steps,'' Ethan thinks before reaching Kate''s passenger door in a flash.
"They haven''t reappeared yet," Ethan says as he opens the door to Kate''s surprise. "Nine, the target is leaving the terminal. Keep to the plan and find where they are headed."
Kate draws a FN-57 and checks the chamber. "How high are your stats to move that fast?" she asks.
"High," Ethan answers. He spots the military truck in the passenger''s side mirror. "You can move out; their truck is behind us."
Kate drives off as if unaware of the enemies'' presence. Her phone displays an itinerary to an unknown location. The Chinese operators climb in the truck, and its driver tails Six and Ethan.
Chapter 69: Competitors - Part 2
Kate exits the highway into an industrial district, with the Chinese truck close behind. "Where are we headed?" Ethan asks.
"An abandoned construction site," Kate replies. "Tombstone said monsters killed the workers and their CEO."
"The area isn''t dense. We''ll need to steal another vehicle to escape," Ethan says, noticing three black SUVs closely tailing the Chinese crew. He peers into them using predator''s sight.
"We have the target in sight. Five men in the back," Ethan hears a man say in Russian. "We''ll attack as soon as they disembark. Do not shoot inside the truck!"
"Someone is watching them from the white van on the parallel street," Kate warns. "I think it''s been following them since the port."
Ethan eavesdrops on the van and relays their conversation to Kate. "It isn''t Chinese," he comments.
"Adding the Language (Korean) skill. Based on your previous experience a level of 1 has been applied," the voice says.
"It''s Korean," Kate confirms. "They are after our pursuers."
"There are also three SUVs filled with Russians behind the truck," Ethan adds. "It seems like they think the Chinese have the cargo."
"I almost went a full year without being shot at," Kate mocks. "Does it have to be like this every time we work together?"
"I''m sure you heard what we were saying, Nine. Make sure no one else follows the target to their hideout," Ethan says. "We can''t have them searching for the cargo once they realize it escaped."
"Even if we kill them all, they can''t be acting on their own. They could be actual soldiers sent by other nations; they will just send more."
"At least it will delay them. We could even use them to take on Valeria''s security if we feed intel to their leaders," Ethan says. "It won''t take much for them to fight each other; we just need to ensure they will."
Ethan summons his Vepr 12 and loads a drum of sabot rounds. Kate looks at it with bewilderment, silently asking how Ethan made it appear. She enters the construction site and stops their truck under an overpass barely wider than the vehicle. A door frame to the building stands a few meters ahead.
Ethan throws two smoke grenades backward and kicks off the windshield. They slide on the hood, taking cover behind the engine block.
White smoke billows between them and the Chinese, who disembark to take cover behind coiled wires, barrels, and concrete blocks. The black SUVs enter the site, their engines and brakes drawing the Chinese''s attention. The Russians open their doors, aiming their weapons at their targets. "What''s happening?" Ethan hears one of the Russians ask.
Kate pulls a plate carrier from her haversack, quickly donning it as Ethan summons his own. "Get ready to move through the building. There are several cars in an underground parking lot on the other side," Ethan says.
Ethan summons and unpins a fragmentation grenade. He throws it below the truck, with just enough inertia for it to stop between the two groups. It explodes with a thundering crack, followed by a storm of gunfire. Bullets ricochet around Ethan and Kate, who remain unfazed.
''Just about... right now,'' Ethan predicts; the silence of emptied guns confirms his thoughts. He throws a thermite grenade in the truck and moves to the door frame, closely followed by Kate.
Through predator''s sight, Ethan spots the two groups scattering around the building''s perimeter. The Korean van stops in the underground parking garage, its six passengers quickly dispersing inside.
As they descend a flight of stairs, the first Korean soldiers appear behind a door he tries to open. A single shot from Ethan''s shotgun sends the man sprawling. "One on the left," Ethan says.
Kate peeks around the corner and fires two precise shots, dropping another soldier who was about to flank them.
They move through an unlit hallway, their movements fluid and precise. Another soldier emerges from a doorway, but Ethan anticipates his approach. He sidesteps and sends a round through the man''s skull.
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A soldier dives for cover at the end of the hallway. Kate shoots him mid-flight, hitting him in the throat. The two remaining Koreans peek out, firing their Type 88s down the hallway.
Kate and Ethan duck behind pillars as bullets whiz past them. Ethan tosses a flashbang grenade. It explodes with a blinding light and deafening noise.
A disoriented soldier stumbles out. Kate shoots him in the knee and both shoulders, sending him to the ground. The last enemy hides behind a pillar. ''Piercing shot,'' Ethan thinks as he aims with predator''s sight. The sabot round punches through the column and the soldier''s plate carrier.
"You leveled up, you leveled up," the voice announces.
"We should have time to quickly interrogate him," Kate says as she lifts the last man she neutralized. She tosses him into a room before closing the privacy shutters lining the windows.
"You have a minute, no more; the police must already be on their way," Ethan says. He follows them inside, placing himself next to the door to watch the hallway.
The Korean''s screams echo violently in the concrete building. Kate''s body pulls in Ether, and a gas-like shimmer descends from her skin. The man''s screams cease, and he stares at her as if heavily drugged.
As she questions her victim, a Russian enters the hallway. He hears her and lifts his gun, aiming at the door. Ethan motions with his finger to stop talking. He spots a Chinese soldier creeping into another room, reloading his submachine gun.
Ethan lowers himself and steps back from the door. He whispers, "There''s a Chinese soldier nearby. Could you attract him?"
Kate tunes her voice to that of a Chinese man. "Over here," she says loudly. "I need help."
The Chinese soldier enters the hallway; the Russian aims at him and presses the trigger. His AK12 jams, the failed click of the firing group echoing around. The Chinese spins around, hitting his new opponent in the chest five times.
The Chinese mumbles something as he pushes open the door. He falls forward, entirely paralyzed by Ethan''s debilitating hex. His heart stops, depriving his brain of oxygen.
As Kate resumes her interrogation, Ethan picks up his victim''s gun. He takes the last full magazine the man was carrying and reloads it before storing his shotgun.
Kate shoots the Korean in the head, spreading his brains on the ground. "They are indeed part of the military, and they are far from alone," she says. "But I have their clandestine HQ location for Tombstone."
They push into the underground parking garage, covering each other as they navigate through rows of modern parked cars.
Ethan scans the empty parking garage through predator''s sight. "Clear," he says as he crosses towards an old sports car. He glances from left to right, searching for hidden threats.
A suppressed burst reaches Ethan''s ears, and he dashes back to protect Six, bringing her low to reduce their size. His back plate catches three of the subsonic bullets, but he barely feels them.
A last bullet craters on Ethan''s thigh, unable to pierce his skin. It crushes the muscles behind the impact point, as if it had been stopped by a ballistic plate.
Kate dashes behind the sports car. Ethan spins around, emptying his magazine at the shooter. The bullets ricochet off him, each impact creating an ethereal shimmer.
The Chinese leader appears from thin air, a mist revealing his body. He''s battered and bloodied, dragging his perforated left leg. "You trapped us!" he yells; that much, Ethan can understand. The soldier drops his empty submachine gun to the ground.
He raises his hand, metallic spikes forming along his palm. With a flick of his wrist, he hurls them at Ethan, who casts Shield, deflecting the projectiles. ''Is he using the same ability as Tatiana, or is it a shield spell?'' Ethan ponders. He closes the distance with the man, who unsheathes a combat knife. Ethan casts Silence; the soldier''s protective layer shatters, turning to descending dust.
Ethan grabs the wrist holding the knife and pulls inward, unbalancing his target before swiping his feet. The Chinese leader''s face slams into the concrete, his teeth skidding across the ground.
The car''s engine ignites as Ethan crushes his opponent''s vertebrae with his foot. He lets go of the dead man''s arm before stealing his smartphone. ''I''m sure they''re following you too,'' Ethan thinks. He breaks the back of the phone and tears out the battery. ''I''m sure Tombstone can get something out of it.''
"Ranged Weapon (Submachine gun) leveled up, Ranged Weapon (Submachine gun) leveled up, ¡ Unarmed Combat leveled up, Unarmed Combat leveled up, ¡" the voice echoes repeatedly.
Kate opens the Jaguar''s passenger door, and Ethan jumps into the car. The wires pulled from under the wheel are tied together. "How is your leg?" she asks.
"Fine," Ethan answers. "Apparently, I''m now bulletproof to nine millimeters."
The tires screech as she exits the parking lot, entering the deserted street. A white and green Lamborghini appears behind them, drifting as it turns into their street. Its police siren pierces Ethan''s enhanced hearing, stabbing his mind.
"I''ll handle it. Find us somewhere to ditch this car," Ethan says. Using Inventory, he summons his shade-drake mantle and wooden mask.
The passenger of the police car rises from the window, positioning himself on the door. He draws a Caracal pistol and aims at their tires. Kate switches lanes from left to right and back, avoiding a critical hit.
Ethan moves to the backseat and summons his Vepr 12. ''Piercing shot,'' he thinks as he fires, aiming for the Lamborghini''s engine. The sabot rounds pierce through both cars'' windshields and hit his target, creating clouds of sparks.
"My ears, you dick!" Kate yells. The police car''s engine breaks momentum, bringing the vehicle to an immediate stop. Kate turns into a narrow alley, following a new itinerary on her phone.
Chapter 70: Priceless
Ethan parks their newly stolen Toyota in the parking garage, where Kyle awaits them. They disembark, and Nine flickers a light to signal his position.
"Any signs of someone else following the target?" Ethan asks as they regroup. Russ pokes his head through Kyle''s car window, and Ethan pets him. "We had Russians, Chinese, and Koreans on our end."
"We were lucky; I haven''t seen anyone following them. They were all onto you," Kyle says.
"And the target?" Kate asks. "Surely they aren''t in this garage."
"I followed them to a suite on the second floor; they had a hard time pushing the crate through the door," Kyle says. He shows a live video feed of a door on his phone. "They are still in there. No one entered, and no one left since they arrived."
"Good," Ethan comments as he calls Tombstone.
"Welcome back, Reaper Five," Tombstone says. "What may I do for you?"
"We need the plans of the building we''re in," Kate says. "Including the electrical installation."
A silence follows. Blueprints appear on all their phones, detailing the layout of the tower. "According to their systems, there is a suite on the second floor drawing significant power."
"That''s the one," Kyle says. "It''s bigger than I expected. But it has a balcony we could use to attack from multiple angles."
"That won''t be needed," Kate says. "This building has centralized air conditioning. I''ll access the roof and put everyone to sleep."
"Including us," Ethan comments. He points at the vents in the garage. "I don''t have gas masks, and the AC runs through the entire building."
"The rooms are connected by chutes," Kyle notes. "That''s another exploitable access. You could use it to poison them; it won''t be as efficient but could neutralize a few."
"I''ll take the main door, Six the chute, and Nine the balcony," Ethan says. "Six will trigger our break-in."
"If you need to restock, I have some equipment here," Kyle says, opening hidden compartments in his trunk. "Rifles, pistols, SMGs, grenades, combat drugs, and protections."
Ethan approaches and pulls out a compact suppressed M4 with subsonic magazines. He inspects and cycles it. Kate imitates him with a suppressed UMP45, storing it in her haversack.
"I''m taking a month off when we are done," she quips. "Any sign of video surveillance? Or communication from their suite?"
"They aren''t transmitting or receiving anything other than the internet. And I''m not picking up any calls coming from that area on any cell tower," Tombstone answers. "The hotel''s network is infected with our failsafe; no one will react to your presence."
Ethan, Kate, and Kyle split up, heading to their respective positions. Ethan reaches the main door, taking cover behind a corner. Six silently climbs into the chute from the laundry room, positioning herself right above their hatch. Nine scales the building in seconds, placing himself next to the balcony door.
Kate opens a slit in the hatch to release an ability-generated gas into the room. Heart rates slow slightly; some cough lightly or rub their heads. A ringtone resonates. The caller''s name surprises the man who raises his phone. His heart rate skyrockets as he picks up. "Yes, boss," he says.
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"Are you on schedule for tonight?" a young man''s voice crackles through the phone.
"Yes, everything is on track. We are running the last of your safety checks as we speak."
"Good," the boss responds. "Remember, our clients are very particular. Do not antagonize anyone; angering any of them could be disastrous."
"We understand," the man assures, wiping sweat from his forehead. "We''ll do our best."
"See that you do," the boss says before hanging up.
Kate takes a deep breath and counts down. "Three¡ Two¡ one¡ go!"
''Strengthening,'' Ethan thinks. He shoulders the door, opening it with a loud metallic crack. Kyle mimics him, hurling himself through the balcony windows. The occupants of the room split their inhibited stupor between the two of them, unable to take cover in time.
Ethan and Kyle fire precisely at each target, avoiding endangering each other. Kate fires through the small opening she created, cutting down several guards. Seconds later, only Cyrius remains unharmed. He raises his hands above his head, surrendering while holding his phone.
"Ranged weapon (Assault Rifle) leveled up."
Alongside tables covered with laptops and documents, they find a perplexing bomb. Standing two meters high, it holds fire Ether crystals embedded in sockets surrounded by H-6 explosives. Eldorian runes adorn its structure, glowing with a reddish hue. Cables link the laptops with its exposed inners, connecting them to onboard computers.
Kyle secures the room, his eyes scanning for any remaining threats. Kate steps through the hatch with her gun still trained on Cyrius.
"Talk," Ethan demands. He scans through the walls with predator''s sight, searching for hidden threats. "Where is tonight''s meeting?"
"You think I''ll tell you anything?" Cyrius sneers, his eyes darting between the three of them with a hint of defiance. "You have no idea how fucked you are. Once my boss realizes that he''s unable to contact me¡ª"
"You have no idea how fucked you are," Kate cuts in, mimicking his exact voice. She leans against a wall, her weapon aimed at his legs. "Don''t bother with threats; it won''t help you."
"The Ritz-Carlton, that''s where we were going to be," Cyrius says. His heart is beating rapidly as more beads of sweat form on his forehead. "But you''ll never get close. You won''t even make it past the lobby."
Kyle examines the tables covered in documents and laptops, searching for additional information.
"Who is your boss?" Kate asks, stepping closer.
Cyrius chuckles softly. "You think I''m going to give you his name? You''re naive, inexperienced at best."
Cyrius lunges at the table, grabbing a Glock taped to the underside. Ethan shoots the pistol, breaking it into pieces. Cyrius jams the now-jagged under slide into his throat, slashing it open. His eyes widen, then his body goes limp and collapses to the floor.
"Damn it," Ethan says. Cyrius'' blood pools on the parquet until his heart stops.
"How afraid of your boss must you be to go to such lengths?" Kate comments. She picks up his phone from the ground, placing it in her pocket.
"People do strange things for love," Kyle says. "Maybe the lives of his loved ones are on the line."
"He wasn''t the head of the operation," Kate reminds them. "We must act before their boss realizes the situation. I will be able to stall him, but it won''t last forever."
Ethan approaches the cylinder; it hums quietly, the crystals leaking fire Ether. "It''s no wonder that foreign nations want to get their hands on this," he says. He passes his finger over the structure, sensing the Ether reinforcing its steel.
"They haven''t tested it yet, but they estimate the damage radius to be a kilometer," Kyle comments, glancing at schematics on an open laptop.
Ethan takes a picture, sending it to Tombstone before calling her. "It''s a lot for its size. The MOAB has roughly the same explosive power but is twenty times as big."
"Welcome back, Reaper Five, Six, and Specter Nine," she says. "I guess you are calling for a cleaning crew."
"And exploitation. There are several laptops and a weapon of a new kind here," Ethan says.
"Seeing the picture I just received, I can think of many clients who would be interested," Tombstone says. "But I guess you''ll need it to infiltrate your target''s convention."
"I''ll leave here a disabled phone I took from a Chinese soldier. At the very least, Russians, Chinese, and Koreans are looking for it," Ethan says. "Our best intel is that Valeria''s convention happens tonight at the Ritz-Carlton."
"By the way, I have the address of the Korean clandestine HQ. I''ll send it to you," Kate says. "We may need you to get them some intelligence at the right time for them to intervene and occupy Valeria''s guards."
"The Ritz-Carlton will be home to a tech meet-up tonight. A lot of companies will be present, with their higher-ups and commercials. I''m sending all the details to your phones," Tombstone says. "I found a crew near your location; they will be there in fifteen minutes. Good luck for tonight."
Chapter 71: Convention
"It''s itchier than I remember," Ethan comments from the back of the rental truck. He rubs his neck lightly through the mask covering his head. "Did you change something?"
"I did, but it should be both more realistic and easier to wear. This new material lets sweat and air through," Kate says. "It''s that suit I should complain about. Whoever their employer is has no notion of quality. Dressing your employees in those skin-sanding fabrics should be a crime."
"I''m glad Cyrius stained his. I wouldn''t want to wear those scrubs," Kyle mocks as he parks the truck. He exits his seat and moves to the back door, opening it to let Ethan unload the bomb''s crate. He hands Ethan a sword in a modern black leather sheath. "Could you store that for me? I''ll probably need it if our guns turn out to be inefficient."
Ethan lowers the crate to the ground on a dolly. He takes Kyle''s sword and reenters the truck to hide the light of his abilities. He unsheathes it by a centimeter. The blade shimmers with a silver-green glow, its surface etched with Eldorian runes. ''Identification, Inventory,'' he thinks.
Phantom Reaver (Long sword)
This blade made of Wraithsilver can damage incorporeal creatures. When this weapon is fed Ether, it creates an aura that weakens and slows incorporeal creatures.
This weapon has been enchanted with [Sharpness (C)] and [Durability (C)].
"This is a remarkable weapon. I guess you found it in a high-level dungeon," Ethan comments.
"It was another D-ranked dungeon, a gigantic cemetery filled with undead," Kyle says. "The sword belonged to the boss. We guessed that he was an adventurer who came before us."
"This seems like the entrance to the real party," Kate says, showing the live feed of a guarded door. "Tombstone hacked the hotel''s security, but it seems like the inside''s network has been shut down or isolated."
"Then we made the right decision to take the place of official attendants," Kyle comments. He checks the chamber of the Glock hidden in his suit. He pulls out his phone. "Are the exploitation guys finished with their work?"
"Five minutes ago," Kate says as she swipes on her own phone. "The cargo is going to an auction starting in an hour. We are supposed to arrive in a few minutes."
"Good," Kyle says. He locks the truck, leaving a front window open for Russ to jump out if needed. He passes his arm through, cranking up the air conditioning. "What does the Russian bulletproof bodyguard look like?"
"One eighty something, blond, with the physique of a wrestler, not shredded or unnatural, just bulky," Ethan describes as he pets Russ. He shows him a picture on his phone, sent earlier by Tombstone. "She seems to always braid her hair; it''s been like that in every picture Tombstone found."
The team exits the garage towards the guarded door. The hotel resembles a hive, with attendees discussing the latest innovations and technologies. Booths line the hallways, showcasing new gadgets and software. The setting sun beams through the outside portions of the hotel, reflecting off its pool. Ethan unfolds a pair of sunglasses and hides his eyes behind them. ''Prescience,'' he thinks. His eyes take on a golden hue, allowing him to foresee everyone''s movements a fraction of a second before they happen.
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The meet-up bustles with demonstrations of innovative projects in AI, cybersecurity, and biotechnology. ''I wonder how long it will take for the common world to see Ether-based products,'' Ethan thinks. The three of them scan the environment for any signs of their targets or threats. Their attire blends seamlessly with the investors that peruse the stands.
Kyle leads them towards the guarded door. The two burly guards scrutinize them before one starts scrolling on his tablet. The guard holding the tablet nods at his coworker and pushes the door open without saying a word.
Inside, Ethan cancels his ability and removes his now-conspicuous glasses. The atmosphere shifts from the bustling convention floor to a more exclusive and secretive ambiance. The main room, accessible via multiple open doors, exudes an air of dark opulence. The attendees are clad in a mix of bespoke suits, exotic leathers, and enigmatic masks. Each person radiates an aura of danger and is flanked by personal guards. Muted conversations hum with conspiring undertones as they eye the goods already on display.
The guard who opened the door follows them. "This way, please," he says, motioning towards a door. He opens it and guides them to the backstage area, where several other crates rest, guarded by his colleagues.
Ethan scans the room, searching for Valeria Vex. ''No luck,'' Ethan thinks. ''Is she elsewhere? Is she late? Or is all of this running without her while she''s doing something else?''
"You can place it there," the guard accompanying them says. Ethan unloads the crate and drags the dolly to the side. The guard opens the crate, revealing the shimmering bomb. He moves towards Kyle and asks, "Do you wish to change the starting price for this item?"
"No," Kyle says, mimicking Cyrius'' voice as best he can. "When will it be auctioned?"
"Lady Vex will decide that," the man answers. He closes the lid and motions towards the main room. "Our bar has a new selection, enriched by findings from the other world. Do not hesitate to ask any of my colleagues if you need anything."
As the man leaves them, Kyle whispers, "So she is, or will be here. But we don''t know how long we can disappear before they start asking questions."
Kate briefly follows a man to an elevator with her gaze. "He''s one of Valeria''s new employees," she whispers. "What are the chances that she''s upstairs?"
Ethan glances around to check that no one is watching him and blinks predator''s sight on and off. "There are three people above, including a woman. Two of them, potentially including Valeria, are in a suite. And there''s a man in an isolated room with a lot of computers."
"According to the blueprints, the hotel''s security room is not in this building," Kyle whispers. He glances around, searching for cameras. "Even if Valeria isn''t up there, neutralizing that guy would make our job much easier."
"Agreed," Ethan says. He looks inside the elevator as the man enters it. "There aren''t any cameras in the elevators, but they may be checking if the elevators are moving."
"There is a service hatch," Kyle says. He moves around and spots an isolated elevator at the end of a corridor. "This one seems unguarded."
"It is," Ethan confirms with predator''s sight. "Six, can you play it off if they come to see why the elevator came down?"
"Yep," Kate says. They move towards the elevator, blending in with the other attendees and avoiding the cameras'' fields of view. Kate leans her back on the elevator''s calling button, faking to scroll on her phone.
The doors open, and Ethan double-checks that there are no cameras. Ethan enters and reaches up, feeling for the edges of the service hatch. He finds the latch and opens it. He boosts himself up, then extends a hand to help Kyle. They close the hatch behind them. ''Inventory,'' Ethan thinks, exchanging his fragile suit for his mantle. Ethan activates predator''s sight once more, scanning the floors above. "They''re on the third floor," Ethan whispers.
Two guards approach Kate. She maintains a cool demeanor, feigning a smile.
"Ma''am, the upper floors are a restricted area," one of the guards says, suspicion evident in his tone.
"Oh, I''m so sorry!" Kate says, putting away her phone. "I just leaned back on the wall and called it by accident."
The guards exchange a glance, their heart rates hastening at the sound of her voice. "We''ll escort you back to the main area. Please refrain from wandering off."
Inside the elevator shaft, Ethan and Kyle start their ascent, moving silently and with ease.
Chapter 72: Convention - Part 2
"If she hadn''t surrounded us with innocents, what would have been the easiest way to deal with the three of them?" Kate asks as the guards leave her.
"I would have detonated the bomb after identifying the targets and leaving the area. No one would regret the rest of the attendants anyway," Ethan says. He lets go of the steel elevator cable with his left hand and catches the edge of the third floor.
"She always surrounds herself with bystanders," Kate comments. "Once, she concluded the sale of viral bombs in a middle school."
"Couldn''t she do that on a crowded public terrace?" Kyle mocks as he places himself on the opposite side of Ethan. He grasps an electric panel lid and tears it off, revealing a multitude of colored cables and control boards. He stares at it for a moment and finally says, "I''m usually good with electronics, but I''m lost on that one."
Ethan pulls out his phone and sends a picture of the panel to Tombstone. His phone vibrates a few seconds later. "She says you need to invert the blue and red cables on the bottom-left board," Ethan reads.
''I haven''t told you what it is,'' Ethan sends as Kyle gives him a questioning look. He receives another text and reads, "Is it an elevator''s door inner control panel?"
Kyle shrugs and inverts the wires; they spark as he re-inserts them. The doors slide open, revealing an empty, expensively decorated corridor.
A gust of Ether flows into the elevator from the left. Ethan glances at the reflective surface of the elevator door''s corner. A light-purple sphere floats above the ground, disturbing the Ether with its presence. The disturbance grows stronger as a slit appears on its surface, revealing an eye that stares at the elevator. "The hallway is being watched," Ethan whispers.
Kyle re-switches the wires, causing the doors to slide shut. "A camera?" he asks.
"It''s an ability or a spell, but it''s clearly supposed to act as a camera. It''s a floating sphere that sprouted an eye," Ethan says. "But I was able to sense it when the doors opened."
"How did you sense it?" Kyle asks.
"Through the Ether," Ethan answers. A doubt crosses his mind, bringing him to ask, "I know that Six is able to properly absorb and use Ether. But what about you?"
"What do you mean by properly? I''m able to use my abilities for a minute or so, and I only need around ten to replenish my Ether," Kyle says. He closes his eyes, clearly trying to sense Ethan''s Ether.
"I''m sorry, I should have asked when we were at the hotel. It was wrong of me to assume," Ethan says. "Your way of using Ether is the same as that of the average person in the other world. It is ¡ deeply flawed. Six and I, and the powerful fighters I met on the other side, are all capable of absorbing Ether as easily as we breathe."
"I literally need to focus for several seconds to even sense Ether, I don''t see how this could be possible," Kyle says. "How high is your Perception?"
"Nineteen, but I was able to sense Ether clearly at sixteen, if that matters at all," Ethan answers. "I''ve met a young man who was able to learn it, but I guess you''ll need time. When this is over, I''ll teach you."
A guard enters the elevator and pushes the second-to-last button. They climb to the next floor, and Kyle readies himself to open its doors. "We won''t have long to exit the shaft if he goes to the last floor," Kyle says.
"Don''t worry, he will stop under us," Ethan reassures. He closes his eyes to better sense the surrounding Ether. He tries to detect any other surveillance abilities on the fourth floor. "This floor seems devoid of magical surveillance."
The guard enters the third floor, passing the eye to enter the surveillance room. "Why did you page me?" he asks the man sitting before the computers.
"I got a warning that the elevator''s doors opened and closed. But the elevator wasn''t even on this floor." Ethan recognizes the voice as that of a stressed-out Trevor Hastings.
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"What a perfect coincidence," Ethan mutters. He pulls out his phone and calls Tombstone.
As he leaves Trevor, the guard stops the door from closing and says, "I''m going to check the floor. ¡ Don''t bother us with false alarms; Valeria is arriving soon, and we are already stressed enough."
"Welcome back, Reaper five," Tombstone says as she picks up the call.
"Did you find anything on Trevor Hastings? I know I told you it wasn''t urgent at all, but his relevance to our mission just skyrocketed," Ethan says.
"I found his boarding information, passport, poorly anonymized social media accounts, past employments, and what''s left of his family," she says. Everything she gathered slides on Ethan''s phone. "And I just searched a few leaked databases that gave me his phone number."
"Thorough, as always," Ethan comments. "He''s their security guy, and we''d need him to look the other way."
"Give me a few minutes," Tombstone says. Ethan can hear her tapping on her keyboard through the line just before the call ends.
"We are going to be here for some time," Ethan says, scanning the silent guards with predator''s sight. The only sounds they emit are their heartbeats and the rustling of their clothes. "Six, Valeria isn''t in the building yet. One of her guards said that she should arrive soon."
"I''m still looking for any of the other two," Kate whispers.
Kyle fidgets with a near-empty, crumpled pack of cigarettes; the sound echoes in Ethan''s mind. "It''s not exactly the time to smoke," Ethan says.
"I don''t intend to," Kyle replies, his heart rate quickening. "To tell the truth, I''ve never smoked in my life. This one belonged to a friend of mine."
Ethan shuts down his predator''s sight and turns to Kyle. He mutes his earpiece''s microphone and asks, "Is there something you want to talk about?"
"I don''t know why you''re doing this job. But for me, it''s personal," Kyle says, placing the packet back into his pocket. "Even though I wasn''t born there, I grew up in Algeria with my mother. I wasn''t immensely popular, being of mixed origins. But I had one very close friend."
Kyle falls silent for a moment. "I had a mission in Algeria once. I paid a man to use his home as a sniping nest, and he stayed the entire time, making small talk and offering me tea. The weirdest part is that despite everyone I met being nice, I had to bargain for everything, even food," Ethan says, trying to lighten the mood.
Kyle smiles lightly before returning to an emotionless face. "One day he broke a car window to steal a bag. He spent a year in jail for it. When he came back, he was different. He still acted as a friend, but he started judging anyone who didn''t act according to what he was told about the Quran."
"He was indoctrinated inside," Ethan comments. "That''s awfully common."
"It got worse over time; it was everything he talked about, everything he was," Kyle continues. "I joined the army, and he disappeared. Not even his mom knew if he was alive. Three years later, I heard his name on TV; he blew himself up in a factory, collapsing the building and killing a hundred people."
Ethan stays silent, feeling only disdain for the terrorist. Yet he clearly perceives that Kyle has violently conflicted feelings about his own words. ''Wait a minute, isn''t that¡ª''
"I deserted and hunted down the men who brainwashed him," Kyle says, cutting off Ethan''s thought. "When I found them, their underlings were running around. A sniper had killed their leaders on the balcony of their own home."
"I''m sorry I took it from you," Ethan says. "But why did you join if they are already dead?"
"You missed one. You couldn''t have known or cared; Yasin Hakeem wasn''t at the top of their ranks. But he''s the one who indoctrinated Tariq and made him do it," Kyle says. "He took off on his own, and I hunted him, destroying everything he tried to create. I got stuck when he joined Ghaya, and that''s when Tombstone made first contact."
"What do you plan for after? If everything goes well tonight, you''ll have achieved your goal," Ethan asks. He briefly triggers predator''s sight to ensure that nothing is happening.
"I''ve made quite a bit of money hunting down terrorists for them," Kyle says. "He used to smoke before it all began, even if it was forbidden. He called it a taste of liberty. I''m keeping it for when it''s all over, and then I''ll retire."
"Sounds good," Ethan comments.
"I''ve spotted two more members of her personal detail," Kate chatters in their earpieces. "They''re securing the place. I think she''ll arrive soon."
Ethan reinstates predator''s sight and hears a series of cars parking near the entrance. A dozen individuals exit them, immediately forming a protective circle around a woman.
"I''ve also spotted the Plague Merchant''s bodyguard," Kate whispers. Ethan''s phone vibrates as she starts a video call, aiming the camera at Tatiana. He glances at the feed that captures Tatiana watching the auction room, her back against a wall. A man next to her leans into her ear, whispering something. Ethan redirects predator''s sight to hear him through the building. "Valeria''s escort is landing," the man whispers in Russian.
Tatiana''s physique is more refined than Ethan remembers. She appears to have lost a lot of weight while growing her muscle mass, giving her an agile look. A long, black sleeve and a glove fully hide her left arm. Yet something feels wrong with it, as if small rocks lined her skin, creating relief under her sleeve. Her powerful heart beats at a sluggish speed. She whispers back, "Good, get ready." The man leaves her side, tapping something on his phone.
Chapter 73: Convention - Part 3
"See where the man who just left her is going," Ethan instructs. He hears the entrance doors open as the woman and her escort enter. "They might be planning something that could complicate our mission. And check the entrance; I think she just arrived."
"Aren''t you afraid that someone with your ability could hear us?" Kyle asks.
"I''m the only one from this world who could have acquired it the way I did," Ethan replies. "I''m worried that my targets will gain abilities that make my job impossible, but it''s only been a month."
"That''s Valeria," Kate says. Ethan sees her trailing the man to an empty corridor leading to an emergency exit. "He seems ready to open a door. Is there anyone behind it?"
"It leads to the tech meet-up. There are a lot of people right beyond that door," Ethan explains. He scans the crowd, but they are too far away and behind too many walls to focus on an individual person or voice. "My best guess is that he''s planning on letting people in who are mixed up with the guests."
Valeria and her escort navigate through the crowd to reach the stage at the end of the main room. They split to each side of the stage, leaving her alone at the center, except for a single guard.
"Welcome, ladies, gentlemen, and other villains," Valeria says through a microphone. Kate redirects her phone''s camera towards her. Valeria''s open-back, floor-length, crimson gown shimmers under the chandelier lights. They reveal the small, sharp, and sturdy scales that make the dress. Eldorian runes shimmer on the silver jewelry she wears ¨C a ruby necklace and a hand chain adorned with garnets.
The guard by her side wears a three-piece costume that Ethan recognizes as being made of cloth similar to his own mantle. ''He hides a large dagger in his vest and a pistol in his belt,'' Ethan notes.
"Tonight, you are all part of something extraordinary," Valeria continues, her eyes scanning the room. She gestures to the array of items displayed on the stage around her. The crowd murmurs, whispering about the items they desire with curiosity and greed.
"Every item in tonight''s auction is a gift from our invaders. These are artifacts imbued with powers we have yet to fully comprehend, or creations made possible by their Ether and our greatest minds." Her voice drops to a seductive whisper, drawing everyone closer. "Some say these objects and the discoveries they enabled cost a billion lives. I say, I would have gladly paid billions more."
Muted laughter ripples through the crowd. She pauses, allowing the audience to quiet down. "I will be seeing some of you before we begin. In the meantime, I advise you to enjoy our refreshments, especially the spirits brought from the other world."
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Her guard guides her off stage, where her escort reforms. They move to the closest elevator; he enters alone with her. "Fetch our first guest," she orders as the doors close.
"Six, one of her guards is searching for someone," Ethan says. "Can you spot who it is?"
Kate hums positively before following the guard with her gaze. She moves around to keep him in her line of sight and says, "The man beside Valeria seems strong. But I can tell she''s quite nervous and hiding dark circles with makeup. Do you think she knows about us or the Plague Merchant?"
"I''ve read your files on her," Ethan says. "She always disappears at the smallest sign of danger. It must be something else. Perhaps she''s not recruiting because of the opportunities granted by Ether, but because she lost too many people last month."
Trevor''s phone vibrates, startling him as he sees the caller''s name. He picks up and says, "Hi mom."
"Hi, Trevor," a voice answers, but it is not his mother''s. Tombstone''s voice is heavily distorted by a shifting voice changer. "I need you to listen very carefully."
Trevor''s heart races. He glances around, ensuring no one else is in his room. "What do you want?"
Tombstone''s voice takes on a menacing tone, dripping with mock politeness. "Two years ago, you anonymously revealed to the public that your employer was ignoring countless safety protocols. I assume you know their stance on whistleblowers, given the fate of some of your coworkers."
"I have nothing to do with any such leak," Trevor says. He sweats profusely, shifting the body temperature perceived by Ethan. He readies himself to end the call. "Good luck with your jokes."
"Perhaps they would prefer to learn about your sale of their inventions to foreign nations," Tombstone says. He stops himself from touching his screen. "Perhaps we could make sure that you would be out of their reach, held in a dark cell. The FBI would like to put a face on the virus that ransomed Eastern European nuclear power plants last year. Even if you were only its creator."
Trevor stays silent for a moment, then finally asks, "What do you want?"
"Consider it a professional courtesy," Tombstone says, her tone mocking. "Shut down your surveillance and take a nap for the rest of the night."
Trevor glances at his screens. "Alright," he says, swallowing hard. "I''ll shut it down."
"Enjoy your night off, Trevor," Tombstone says before ending the call.
Trevor sits there for a moment, the phone still in his hand. He moves to another corner of the room, where several servers rest on metallic racks. He shuts them down one by one, their heat disappearing in Ethan''s vision. Trevor sluggishly bends below his desk and unplugs cables from his computers before sitting back in his chair.
''He disabled his DVRs and Ethernet connections. Well played,'' Ethan writes to Tombstone. Ethan nods towards the control panel and says, "You can open it; we will go down a balcony to reach the third floor. He''s a Mage, but I cannot be certain that the eye is his."
The guard searching for Valeria''s first guest returns to his colleagues. He hails the man who was watching the entrance door and asks, "Did Cyrius Hargrove arrive? He was on the list you texted us."
"Yes; he was with a blonde and a giant," the guard answers. "I''ll help you find him."
"You are her first guest," Ethan says. "Go back down and pretend you were exiting the toilets in the elevator''s corridor. I''ll be right above you if we need to act while you''re with her."
"Understood," Kyle says before falling back into the elevator and disappearing through the hatch. The elevator descends as Ethan switches sides to manipulate the doors'' wires. He opens them and enters the last floor, dusting himself off.
Chapter 74: Convention - Part 4
''Silent steps,'' Ethan thinks before hastily moving to the room above the two guards. He stops at the door''s edge, using predator''s sight to scan the opposite buildings for a sniper. The bustling nightlife forms a myriad of moving, dancing presences. ''No one seems to be watching,'' he concludes before moving inside.
Valeria and her guard enter the room below. The two who were watching the room nod silently before exiting and positioning themselves on each side of the door. She sits on a couch facing another one, separated by a glass coffee table.
A phone vibrates in the guard''s suit; he hands it to Valeria. Her heart rate rises as she sees the caller''s name, and she hands it back. He places it back in his pocket without refusing the call.
Kyle exits the restroom after using it to clean the grease that gathered on his hands. The two guards reach him, gently grabbing him by the arm. "Lady Vex is awaiting you," one of them says, guiding him to an elevator.
Ethan rests his shoulder on the balcony''s glass window edge, looking down at the tech convention. ''I should spend my characteristic points. I''ve grown a lot stronger, but I shouldn''t take any risk against Tatiana,'' he thinks. ''Status,'' he mutters, summoning the gray window.
''It is beginning to grow too long,'' Ethan internally mocks. ''A constitution of twenty-three made me slightly bulletproof, even if it still hurts. I should raise it to twenty-five.''
As Ethan presses the plus twice, he senses a surge of Ether appearing from thin air. It forms in his skin and spreads to form a tight net that slowly dissolves into his cells. More Ether forms and vanishes into his bones and organs, strengthening them. ''I probably couldn''t notice before, but where did that Ether come from?'' Ethan asks himself. ''I thought that I began understanding how Ether works, yet it seems that I still have a lot to learn.''
''Handling my speed has become easier since my Perception improved; I''ll upgrade it to twenty,'' Ethan thinks. He presses the Perception''s plus and Ether forms around his head, seeping into his eyes and brain. ''I can use Strengthening to improve my Strength, but raising my Intelligence improves my effectiveness at wielding Ether and therefore my abilities. Twenty-five it is. I''ll keep a point in case I need to ward off Maelor.''
More Ether forms around Ethan''s head, seeping into his brain. ''It''s a shame that Intelligence is limited to the manipulation of Ether and my ability to remember things. It speeds up my thoughts a bit, but I would have appreciated it to incorporate wisdom.''
Images of Ethan''s past teachings flash before his eyes as he''s reminded of physics, biology, history, and other matters. A voice echoes in Ethan''s mind as he starts daydreaming of his childhood home. "I''m glad that Dr. Alexander was able to refer me to you," Ethan imagines his father saying. "It has been in my possession for eight years, and you''re the only historian who seems to know anything about it."
Ethan feels the pull of a vision on his mind. He glances down at Kyle and the guard; they enter the elevator. The guard staying with Valeria pours two glasses of liquor before placing them on the coffee table. "I should have a minute," he thinks before letting himself be enveloped by the vision.
The surroundings turn to Ethan''s father''s desk room. He holds the missing piece of his hidden trove ¨C a disk no larger than a coin, adorned with crystals and inscribed with countless Aetherian runes ¨C before his killer. The bearded, long-haired assassin gently takes it from his hand before inspecting its runes. "It has been eons since I laid eyes on this item," he says. There''s a calm, measured cadence to his words, each syllable pronounced with care and deliberation. The subtle warmth in his tone makes it easy to believe his intentions are noble.
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"Really?!" Ethan''s father asks. He searches his desk for a notebook, opening it to his notes on Aetherian. "My research led me nowhere; this language doesn''t correspond to anything ever recorded. Where have you seen an item like this?"
The man unholsters a handgun and aims at Ethan''s father''s head. Ethan moves in, grabbing the man''s wrist to drive it upward. His hand passes through the illusion, and the man shoots, hitting his target.
Sorrow washes over Ethan, turning his eyes heavy. The man stashes his weapon and pries from his coat a hollow pendant. He places the disk inside, the fusion creating an echoing click. He pulls out a pure white Ether crystal and breaks it before directing the Ether into the pendant. It shines and emits a hologram of orbiting spheres, all circling a central one. He touches it, and a tear forms in the space before him, letting through the image of a vast city.
The air shimmers as he extends his hand, absorbing an undetectable Ether. He silently mouths an incantation and liquid fire forms in his hand, drooling on the floor. He flicks his arm, propelling it on the walls and shelves. The desk room bursts into flames as he exits, passing Ethan, who''s hiding in a cabinet.
The vision fades away, returning Ethan to the hotel room he''s standing in. He presses his fingers over his eyes, dispelling the semblance of tears that were forming. "You didn''t even try to discuss it; he wasn''t stopping you. He trusted you because of whom you pretended to be. Merely lying that you could study it with your other findings would have gotten you out of the mansion with it," Ethan mutters.
Kyle enters the room below, and the guard guiding him stops outside. Valeria motions for him to sit before her as her guard stares him down. Kyle''s heart beats at a relaxed pace, devoid of stress. He moves towards them, gently removing his vest to place it next to him on the couch. "He''s clearly used to it," Ethan thinks.
"I spotted a terrorist from Ghaya," Kate chatters in their earpieces, spiking Kyle''s heart rate. He sits down, prying the glass from the table and feinting to take a sip.
"You should have warned me," Valeria''s voice cuts through the tense silence. It is sharp and filled with controlled anger. "Why didn''t you tell me that our plan failed?"
Ethan Reed
Lv.16 (Harbinger) High-Human
Lv.5/20 (Arsenal)
Strength: 26 + Charisma: 15 +
Dexterity: 23 + Perception: 20 +
Constitution: 25 + Willpower: 26 (24) +
Intelligence: 25 +
Available characteristic points: 1
Talents
Oracle
Pastseer
Rapid martial growth
???
Titles
Dungeon conqueror (D)
First dungeon conqueror (D)
Dungeon conqueror (E)
Dungeon conqueror (F)
First dungeon conqueror (F)
First hunter
Goblin hunter
Hobgoblin hunter
Kin slayer
Kobold hunter
Skeleton hunter
Slayer of the first incursion
Warg hunter
Abilities
Anonymity (E)
Identification (F)
Inventory (F)
Insight (F)
Piercing shot (E)
Predator''s sight (E)
Prescience (F)
Silent steps (F)
Spell casting (E)
Strengthening (F)
Russ
Lv.13/20 (Ambush predator) Dog
Bonded: Ethan Reed (Obedience 94)
Strength: 10 Charisma: 6
Dexterity: 22 Perception: 25
Constitution: 12 Willpower: 14
Intelligence: 6
Abilities
Bond telepathy
Camouflage (F)
Growth (F)
Poisoned natural weapons (F)
Shadow blend (F)
Silent steps (F)
Chapter 75: Convention - Part 5
Kyle lies with conviction, "I was as mad as you when I learned on my way here." He places his glass of liquor down, his imitation of Cyrius'' voice uncanny. "Believe me, if I had known earlier, I would have told you."
"Five, do you have a shot at her?" Kate asks.
"If absolutely necessary, yes," Ethan replies, readying himself to jump onto the balcony below. "But I won''t intervene unless Nine can''t manage. We need to locate our other targets."
Valeria remains silent for a moment before asking, "Where is he now?"
"I don''t know," Kyle responds without hesitation.
Ethan''s phone vibrates as Tombstone calls. The screen shows she¡¯s calling both him and Kate. He picks up, hearing Six do the same.
"I have bad news," Tombstone begins without introduction. "The exploitation crew cracked the phone you left. The Chinese are on their way to your location. They have someone who can locate objects, and they pointed to the Ritz-Carlton."
Ethan slides his hand over his face as he lets out a deep sigh. "How much time do we have?" he asks.
"A few minutes. Their orders are to do whatever it takes to obtain the bomb, no matter how loud or ugly it gets," Tombstone says. "I''m altering traffic to delay them as much as I can, but you don''t have long."
"How can they do that?" Kate asks. "Surely Dubai''s police and military won''t let this slide."
"They seem to have authorization," Tombstone replies. "Police forces were ordered to avoid the area."
"We can''t abandon now," Kate whispers.
"We won''t. This just hastens our plans," Ethan says. "Find the Merchant and Hakeem. We¡¯ll trap them inside and let the Chinese do the work. If they escape, we''ll ambush and kill them."
"And Valeria?" Kate asks. "They won''t come upstairs if they find their prize. We''ll already be spread between two dangerous targets."
"I''ll handle her when they arrive. No one below will hear me in the middle of an assault," Ethan assures. "You¡¯ll leave the building in advance and blend with the other convention''s attendees."
Kate hums in agreement.
"I needed him," Valeria''s voice rises. "I have buyers harassing me for products that should have been ready a month ago. And now my best fixer dodges my calls, scared he''ll be burned alive like his men."
Ethan''s memory flashes at Valeria''s words. "She''s talking about Ayden Verity. I eliminated four men hired to kidnap him from my flight," he says. "I gave his name to Tombstone. But by just googling him, I found out he''s the son of a big robotics company''s founder."
"If he''s linked to Cyrius, could he be his boss?" Kate asks. "I have eyes on Hakeem; he''s examining a crystal ¡ heart."
Ethan looks down at Kate and follows her gaze. "Got him in my sight. I''ll follow him through the building once it begins," he says.
"We''ll have another shot once the auction is over," Kyle says, unfazed by Kate''s words.
Both Valeria and her guard twitch and stare at him. "It took you months to bait him into the area. He must have realized his lover is a lure. He''ll be on high alert for months, and so will his father if he learns about it," she retorts. "Yet, you don''t seem scared. How long before his father traces her back to you?"
"I''ve anticipated and planned for that," Kyle lies confidently.
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Valeria narrows her eyes. "Planned accordingly? How so?"
"When he investigates the accounts I used, he''ll find one I hacked from an influencer who attracted many people here to trap them. He''s already suspected to have captured several women, but I found out that he''s also fond of young men," Kyle lies. He readjusts his position and feints to take a sip of the drink. "I know the stakes all too well."
"Good," Valeria says. "What''s that next shot at him you mentioned?"
"He hasn''t given up; he pestered her with messages. I can set up another meeting for you to capture him," Kyle lies. "It wouldn''t be as clean. I''ll let you decide if you want to go forward with it."
Valeria sighs. "Can I still reach you on the same number?"
"Yes," Kyle replies. "I may need time to respond."
"As always," Valeria says. "You can go downstairs. I have many people to interview; it will give me time to think."
''Tombstone would have noticed this conversation if it happened on his phone,'' Ethan thinks. ''He must have had a hidden one. Well played, Kyle.''
"Nine, rejoin with Six and leave the building," Ethan orders as he spots a convoy of black, tinted vans in the distance.
"I haven¡¯t found the Plague Merchant yet. Too many rooms and people," Kate says.
"It doesn''t matter," Ethan replies. "If he''s planning an attack, he may have stayed behind. I''ll capture Tatiana if possible."
Kyle exits the elevator and is let go by the guard escorting him. He whispers, "Meet me at the northeastern stairwell. Why do we need to get out?"
"There¡¯s a Chinese assault incoming. They really want their bomb," Ethan says, following them with predatory sight as they move through the hotel''s corridors.
They head to the second floor, where Kyle breaches a door, opens a window, and looks down at the isolated corner of the inner yard. He vaults over the window and lands silently.
Kate follows, and he catches her. "I didn''t need your help, big guy," she mocks.
"I didn''t want you to break your heels," he retorts. "Can you spot their entry point?"
"They seem to be parking in front of the main door," Ethan says. The vans screech to a stop, and heavily armored assault troops disembark.
The tech convention''s attendees closest to the front door pull out their phones to record the situation. Two of the squads split from the main ground to invest the yard. "Get down!" they order.
Valeria''s guard glances at his vibrating phone. "We need to go," he yells, grabbing her arm.
An explosion echoes, blasting open the doors. Splinters of wood and metal fly, and the sound of countless boots thunders as soldiers storm the first floor.
Sundering gunfire erupts as the soldiers open fire on guests and guards. Valeria''s guards respond with small arms fire and spells. The Chinese front line''s ballistic shields melt under the fire spells, while her guards are cut down by machine guns. The fight turns the entrance hallways into a death trap.
The guests swarm to the back door, where Tatiana''s underling still is. He opens the door, and ten members of the outside crowd enter, pulling out compact rifles. The first fleeing guests freeze in shock and are trampled, creating a human collapse that blocks the corridor.
Ethan summons his shotgun and jumps down to Valeria''s balcony. ''Piercing shot,'' he thinks as he unleashes a tempest of lead on her and her guard. The pellets tear them apart, spreading organs and clothes on the walls and floor before they can react.
The two remaining guards open the door, ready to shoot. Ethan spins and inflicts the same fate, emptying his drum. The room falls silent, save for the muffled echoes from below.
"You leveled up, Range Weapon (Shotgun) leveled up, Range Weapon (Shotgun) leveled up, Range Weapon (Shotgun) leveled up."
''That talent really is something,'' Ethan thinks as he checks the room. "Clear. Valeria Vex is dead."
A ragged breath catches Ethan''s attention. He spins around to see Valeria''s pieces levitate, rejoining her body with sickening sounds. Dark green scars form at the seams of her reconstructed flesh, glowing in the dark.
Ethan summons another drum of buckshot and reloads his shotgun. He shoots again, pressing the trigger as fast as the gun can bear. Valeria waves her hand, and a shield deflects the pellets that then pierce the walls behind her.
Ethan forms the symbols of the Silence spell and moves forward. He snaps his fingers a moment after Valeria; a wave of Ether pierces him, dispelling the visualization of his own spell.
She moves her right hand, and a stone in her jewelry shines with a blinding red light. ''Prescience,'' Ethan thinks. She unleashes a beam that Ethan barely dodges. The attack cuts through walls, slicing the building to the roof.
The separated walls shatter, tumbling onto fleeing convention attendees. Ethan summons Phantom Reaver and, with Strengthening, swings at Valeria.
She cuts the air with two fingers; a gleaming blue sword appears in the air, slashing at Ethan. He blocks the blow, but its force pushes him back. She slashes again, and the etheric sword pursues him through the room.
The last of her scattered chunks melt into her jaw, reforming it like a jigsaw. She contorts and screams, scratching her skin in tremendous pain. Her voice comes with an eerie resonance. "Bastard! I''ll make sure you stay alive as I tear you apart! You''ll suffer as I do, and then I''ll inflict the same fate on everyone you know as you watch!"
Chapter 76: Undeath
"She''s back from the dead, and she''s a powerful spellcaster," Ethan says, blocking another slash. He deflects the blade and conjures a fireball in his offhand.
Valeria prepares to snap her fingers as she notices his spell. ''She dispelled Silence just like that. Why isn''t she stopping me from casting now? How limited is her range?'' Ethan wonders. He hurls his fireball at her, quickly followed by another aimed at the ceiling above her.
She snaps her fingers, making the first fireball vanish. The second one spreads like napalm on the false ceiling, causing burning plastic to rain down on her shield, setting the room ablaze. Thick, black smoke rises, giving Ethan the cover to leap unseen to the upper floor.
"Melee Weapon (long sword) leveled up, Melee Weapon (long sword) leveled up," the system announces.
''In just one exchange?'' Ethan thinks. ''She''s drawing in an enormous amount of Ether, far more than I can. Just how immortal is she? Can she survive another killing blow? Do I need to Silence her to end it?''
A sphere of red light emanates from her, passing through the walls and Ethan. A luminescent powder forms on him and on his footsteps, highlighting his path and presence through the walls.
''Insight,'' Ethan thinks.
Mary Jones
Lv.0/1 (Villager) Human
Strength: 10 Charisma: 16
Dexterity: 10 Perception: 10
Constitution: 10 Willpower: 10
Intelligence: 12
She extends her hand towards the remains of her three guards, drawing their souls into her palm. An unnatural wind sweeps through the hotel, extinguishing the electric lights.
''She''s summoning demons,'' Ethan realizes. He rushes back towards her, summoning his enhanced assault rifle just as he reaches the edge of the floor.
"By the pact that binds us, I summon thee, O demon of the Abyss," Valeria intones, her voice shaking the Ether. "Be my weapon to slay the righteous, for I offer you souls to feast upon."
A crack appears in the wall closest to Ethan. Two clawed fists, armored with yellow, spiked chitin, pierce through, followed by their owner. The creature, a towering humanoid, summons a halberd in his hand.
Ethan fires at the creature, but the bullets merely scratch its armor. The beast swings his weapon, cleaving the rifle in half. Ethan drops the shattered gun and leaps backward.
''Strengthening,'' Ethan thinks, absorbing as much Ether as he can. ''My range is too small, and Valeria is already siphoning too much Ether.''
Long, dark hair flows from a face made of bones, too alien to be human. Horns pierce it from within, forming a five-peaked crown above his head. Threads of Ether connect Valeria to the creature, digging into his skull and along his spine.
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He moves his jaw, revealing three rows of teeth and a serrated tongue. Words spill out in an alien language, causing Ethan''s mind to spark with pain as he feels Maelor''s presence behind his eyes.
"Adding the Language (Abyssal) skill. Based on Maelor Halvern experience a level of 19 has been applied," the system says.
''I am Azagoth, executioner of Malakar, champion of the Abyssal coliseum,'' Ethan translates. He summons the Abyss Watcher long sword in his offhand. ''This guy''s presence is insane; he must hold ten times the Ether I can.''
Azagoth steps forward and lowers himself to swing his halberd. The blade cuts through the walls effortlessly. Ethan dodges by a hair, his Prescience barely keeping up with the speed of Azagoth''s movements. The walls ignite from the cuts, spreading fire through the corridor.
Azagoth redirects his blade, following up with rapid thrusts. Ethan retreats into a corridor, dodging the speartip of Azagoth''s weapon.
Ethan sprints down the corridor, gripping his blade with his thumb as he extends his left hand. He casts a lightning bolt, sending it crackling through the air. The spell pierces Azagoth from front to back, but the demon charges forward undeterred.
Azagoth swings his weapon wide, forcing Ethan to halt his spell and parry. They clash with relentless ferocity, with Ethan barely managing to parry and dodge the onslaught, unable to find an opening.
The demon halts his attacks, momentarily exposing himself. He tenses his muscles, causing his armor to bulge. Ethan seizes the opportunity, stabbing at the shoulder joint with the Abyss Watcher blade, but the chain mail stops the blow.
Azagoth burns a vast amount of Ether, red scars forming on his exposed skin. His muscles swell, releasing a heat that turns the surrounding moisture into vapor.
Ethan unsummons his offhand blade and wields Phantom Reaver with both hands. He swings at Azagoth, but the demon parries with incredible speed. Azagoth follows with a downward slash that Ethan barely parries.
The force of the blow collapses the floor beneath Ethan, sending him to the level below. He rolls to his feet as the demon lands where he was. His boots set the carpet ablaze.
"A pity that so few of your kind can challenge me. I long for a duel like the one I had against your sovereign centuries ago," Azagoth says, approaching slowly.
"If you long for a worthy opponent, you should give me a decade to grow instead of killing me now," Ethan says in Abyssal.
Azagoth stops, stunned. His maw opens wide, letting out a laugh that shakes the room. "Perhaps I should. But by the contract that binds me, I am bound to my summoner''s commands."
A beam of fire enters Ethan''s Prescience, piercing his chest from behind. He dashes to the side, hurling himself through a wall to dodge the attack. Valeria''s spell cuts through the building, scarring Azagoth''s armor.
As Ethan regains his balance, he sees a mad grin form on the demon''s face. The Ether threads binding him to Valeria shatter, and he laughs louder, cracking the walls around him. His thundering voice drowns out the noise below.
"Melee Weapon (long sword) leveled up," the voice announces a dozen times.
The demon charges at Valeria, breaking through walls as if they were nonexistent. He stops in front of her, his weapon poised. "Eternal torment is the only sentence for those who trample my honor," he growls.
"Obey me, demon!" she yells, moving her ornamented hand towards him. One of the stone emits a bright blue glow in the lightless building. Lightning bolts surge from her hand, piercing him in his chest, arms, and legs.
He swings his halberd, sending her head rolling to the floor. The cut ignites, searing her flesh and boiling her blood. Her burning head levitates and reattaches to her neck as Azagoth watches. She bends and screams, tears forming in her eyes as smoke spews from the seam.
"Did he mention the pain when you gave him your soul?" Azagoth muses. "If you exhaust your Ether to kill yourself, I will give you mine so you may survive until it corrupts your flesh. Of the minutes you gave me in your world, I''ll make sure that you suffer each second I remain."
''I''ll reach her the moment he disappears and cast Silence on her,'' Ethan plans. ''If that isn''t enough, I''ll have to drain her Ether with Dark Fate or pull it out using mine.''
"Hakeem took a kid hostage," Kyle says.
Chapter 77: Confrontation
A few moments before Valeria''s return to life
"Clear. Valeria Vex is dead," Ethan announces over the radio. Gunfire follows his statement. Kyle glances at Six, who returns his look with equal confusion.
Tech convention attendees scramble for cover as the Chinese soldiers move in. "Get down!" the soldiers shout repeatedly.
''Calm down,'' Kyle thinks as he tries to calm his racing heart, feeling its pounding spread to his spine. He surveys the Chinese troops, noting their gear. ''Anti-material resistant vests, ballistic masks, titanium-Kevlar helmets, anti-fragmentation shoulder pads, and leg protections. And all I have is a Glock.''
Frightened attendees of Valeria''s auction push and shove to reach the yard. Their guards open fire, but the soldiers respond with overwhelming, heavy gunfire.
Kyle and Six take shelter behind a wide pillar, unfazed by the bullets whizzing past them. Kyle screws a silencer onto his pistol, thinking, ''Ethan can''t track Yasin.''
Six retrieves an FN-57 through a concealed opening in her dress. "I only have one extra magazine," she says.
"She''s back from the dead, and she''s a powerful spell caster," Ethan informs them.
Six takes a deep breath to steady herself. She summons a thin gas with a hand motion, easing her stress. Kyle gives her a puzzled look, and she explains, "Nothing to worry about; it only affects stress."
"The parking lot is on the other side of the yard. I left guns and vests with Russ," Kyle says, peeking around the pillar to scan the crowd.
A guard with an empty handgun runs towards them, seeking cover. Kyle trips him, and Six locks him to the ground, suffocating him with her heel.
A group armed with compact AK-74s emerges from a window. Kyle''s heart skips a beat as he spots his target, shielded by five men. They move quickly to another wing of the hotel, evading gunfire.
"Go back to the van; I''ll handle Yasin," Kyle orders. He follows the group, moving from cover to cover without engaging anyone.
Reaching the door they disappeared through, Kyle senses a sudden spike of Ether behind him. He turns to find Six, who followed silently. "You don''t get to order me around. I''m not leaving until the mission is complete," she says, cutting off his scolding.
Kyle opens the door to a long bar room filled with cowering patrons. Yasin fires a grenade launcher. Kyle ducks behind a pillar, avoiding the explosion that shreds the door behind Six.
Shrapnel tears into Kyle''s vest and mask, causing intense pain in his face and arm. He tears off the dangling silicone and checks his wounds. His arm trembles, barely able to hold his pistol. ''Just cuts, calm down,'' he reassures himself.
He looks for Six and sees her behind another pillar. She pulls out an injector from her dress and throws it at Kyle. He flicks off the cap and injects himself in the arm; the pain and tremors disappear.
"Kill them!" Yasim orders as he passes the doors at the end of the room. His guards spread behind covers, aiming their rifles at the pillars.
Six shoots three times at a circuit breaker above the bar, shrouding the room in darkness. She follows up with the chandeliers in the middle of the room, creating a cacophony of breaking glass. Yasim''s guards fire blindly.
Four guards activate their rifle lights, scanning the room. They find the fifth member of their group, dead on the ground, his throat slit.
"Where are they?!" one of them yells. They reload their rifles in a flash. One of them clears a jammed cartridge without looking down.
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''Gunslingers,'' Kyle realizes. A bottle shatters over a guard''s head, sending him reeling. He crouches back, covered in stinking alcohol. Three of them aim at the bar while the last of them remains on the pillars.
A muffled exhale reaches Kyle''s ears. The light suppressing him vanishes as the rifle holding it slides away. Kyle rolls to the bar as the guards'' torches redirect. They find another fallen comrade, stabbed in the heart. He clings to life, grasping his wound as he falls to the ground.
A lighter hits the alcohol-soaked guard, setting him ablaze. He screams and rolls to the ground.
Kyle stands up and opens fire in uncoordinated synchronization with Six, who shoots from another corner of the room. Their targets fall to the ground.
"Hurry," Six urges, appearing by the door Yasin used as she reloads.
"How are you doing that?" Kyle asks as he joins her.
They cross the door, entering a balcony linked to the floor below by two stairs. Bullets fly at them, hitting the balcony''s edge and the wall behind them.
Six grunts in pain as she ducks to cover; a bullet wounded her in the thigh. The rifle clicks as it fires its last bullet. Kyle peeks out and shoots at Yasim, hitting him in the right forearm and shoulder.
Yasim jumps to the side and pries a tetanized kid from his mother''s arm. She crawls after them, but Yasim kicks her unconscious. He uses him as a shield and backs down toward a door.
Yasim''s right arm dangles at his side as he still grasps his empty rifle. He pushes open the door with his back and enters the parking lot just as the Chinese vans traverse it.
"Go after him," Six says. She''s holding onto the wound; it would bleed profusely if she were to let go. "I''ll handle this. Get him!"
"Don''t die on me," Kyle says, unmuting his earpiece. "Yasin took a kid hostage." He jumps down the balcony and lands close to the door that he opens and rushes through.
The young boy cries, desperately clawing at Yasim''s arm as he drags them further inside the parking. Yasim violently moves his arm, hitting his hostage''s head.
"It''s going to be all right, kid," Kyle says as he approaches as slowly as Hakeem backs down. He aims at his head, but his arm oscillates outside of his control. His sight shivers, making his aim unreliable.
"Take one more step, and I break his neck!" Yasim yells as he tenses his arm.
Kyle stops as he plays the scenarios in his mind. ''If I use Strengthening, I could reach them in an instant. But what if he was strong enough to kill him just by squeezing his arm?''
"I remember your face," Hakeem says. He moves between cars and trucks, scanning around for something. "We caught you in France until you escaped and killed Najjar. But when I saw your picture, it sparked in my mind; you hunted me in the street of Algiers after blowing up my car and killing my men."
"Let the kid go, Yasim. This is between us." Kyle''s voice is calm and steady despite his fear for the kid''s life.
A shadow passes behind Yasim, a barely noticeable dimming of the dying light. He glances back with an audible gasp. Kyle moves away, vanishing from Yasim''s sight behind a van.
"I''ll kill the kid if I see you again!" Yasim yells as he moves further inside the parking lot. He reaches a sports car and opens it with the fingerprints of the hand he uses to hold the kid.
''I can''t let him escape again,'' Kyle thinks, his legs paralyzed by the situation. A loud thud attracts his attention, and he looks above Yasim''s car.
Hakeem looks up, his eyes widening as he fears the source of the growl that landed on the roof of his car. A dire wolf that darkens its surroundings and whose fur melts with the gray concrete snaps at him.
''Why is there a monster here?!'' Kyle thinks. He triggers Strengthening to bolt between cars and snatches the kid away from Yasim. He leaps backward and aims at the frozen terrorist head, but the beast snatches him before he can pull the trigger.
The dire wolf shakes his head, hurling Yasim into his car, the one next to them, and the ceiling. Kyle hears his target''s bones breaking and dislocating, each of those sounds coming alongside a muffled scream.
His body goes limp, and the beast lets it fall to the ground. It steps down from the car, releasing the tension it was inflicting on the suspensions.
Kyle walks backward, placing the crying kid behind him. The beast shrinks down in size, its fur turning a light brown except for his black head. Kyle asks, "Russ?"
Russ runs to Kyle, squeaking as he rubs his blood-covered maw on his pants. The kid recoils and falls on his ass, traumatized by Russ.
"Yes, yes, you''re a good boy," Kyle says in baby talk. He removes his pistol''s silencer and holsters the gun. "Your dad didn''t tell us you could do that; that''s awesome."
Russ moves away from Kyle and walks to the kid to lick his face. "Can I go?" the kid asks with a shaking voice. Kyle nods, and he runs back to his mother.
"Yasim Hakeem is dead," Kyle informs Six and Ethan. He pulls out his phone and takes a picture of Yasim''s mangled face to send it to Tombstone.
Kyle steps closer to the corpse. Yasim''s blood spills on the concrete through his mangled neck as his body fails to realize that his crushed brain leaves him no chance of surviving. Kyle''s heart, which has pounded with adrenaline moments ago, feels hollow and heavy.
He wipes his face with a trembling hand, trying to shake the eerie sense of detachment. ''Is this it?'' he wonders, the question lingering in his mind. He runs his hand through Russ'' fur, finding solace in the dog''s happiness.
Chapter 78: Rematch
"Russ leveled up," the system informs Ethan. Moments later, Kyle adds, "Yasim Hakeem is dead."
''What did Russ do?'' Ethan wonders, feeling a twinge of worry. He edges into the room where Azagoth stands over the writhing Valeria.
"See you soon," the demon mocks, transforming into a cloud of sparks that dissipate into the wind.
Ethan visualizes the sigils of the Silence spell and dashes into the room. A curved blade appears in the periphery of Prescience, and he parries with his sword, retreating.
He exchanges a flurry of blows and parries with his attacker before leaping back to create distance. Tatiana steps into the light of the burning corridors without making a sound.
"I thought it was you, Reaper. Weren''t you able to see through walls last time we met?" Tatiana asks in perfect English, without a hint of her Russian accent. Her blade, a Shashka ¨C a slightly curved, guardless medieval Russian saber ¨C rests at her right side. It looks fresh-forged, yet the blade shines with an otherworldly greenish hue. A blood-red gem is embedded between the handle and blade, sprouting small veins into the later.
Ethan touches his face and realizes that his mask melted away, revealing his face. He did not feel it amongst the surrounding heat.
''If only I could use Predator¡¯s sight and Prescience simultaneously,'' Ethan laments internally. He briefly activates Predator¡¯s sight to confirm she is alone. "You didn¡¯t come here for me. Were you planning to kill Valeria?"
"Given her condition, I can afford to deal with you first; I need to let her cool down before questioning her anyway," Tatiana retorts.
They circle each other amidst the wreckage left by Azagoth. "Did you come without your master?" Ethan probes, trying to sense her Ether through the restraints on her aura.
"He''s downstairs, looting what the Chinese left," Tatiana says. "I was tired of him fuming about the fact that they took what he decided was rightfully his."
"Ether manipulation leveled up," the voice announces as Ethan peers through her aura manipulation. Her heart holds less Ether than his, but her concealed arm contains just as much.
''What is this arm?'' Ethan asks himself.
Tatiana swings at Ethan, who leans back to dodge. The trajectory of her attack is simple, almost childish. The veins in her blade extend, lengthening both the blade and handle.
Ethan deflects the blow thanks to Prescience and counters with a downward slash. Tatiana grips the handle with both hands, her sword crackling with electricity. She blocks Ethan''s attack, a blade of lightning forming along the path of her strike, reaching behind Phantom Reaver.
Ethan contorts to avoid the lightning blade, disengaging and retreating further. He mentally forms the sigils of Debilitating Hex, channeling large quantities of Ether into them.
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"You reacted before I triggered my abilities," Tatiana says, suspicion lacing her voice. "You didn¡¯t have golden eyes last time; is this their power?"
"You weren¡¯t so arrogant last time," Ethan replies, casting his hex. Tendrils of dark Ether rush at Tatiana, hidden by the surrounding darkness. "Do you think you¡¯ve grown enough to best me without taking this seriously?"
The hex''s tendrils contort and deform, drawn to the base of her neck. An object hidden under her shirt creates a vortex of Ether, pulling the tendrils away from Ethan''s control.
Ethan dispels the hex, the last tendrils vanishing into her necklace. The vortex and its etheric presence disappear.
"You haven¡¯t been slacking either," Tatiana mocks, lowering herself into a stance, her blade poised. Ethan mirrors her as she turns serious.
''Strengthening,'' Ethan thinks. They burst towards each other, their blades clashing with a deafening sound. Ethan deflects her blade instead of parrying, redirecting its electric afterimage. They exchange blow after blow, the remains of the corridors crumbling around them.
She deflects his blade upwards, creating an opening to slash at his chest. She swings upward, aiming for a decisive strike.
Ethan casts Dermal Shield, focusing it on his left hand as he grabs her blade. The lightning afterimage splits on his shield, striking the ceiling and floor. He swings Phantom Reaver downward, aiming for her head, but she catches his blade with her left hand. Her glove shatters from the force, revealing a cyan, scaled hand bearing claw-line nails.
They stand immobile, each trying to overpower the other''s defenses. Ethan¡¯s shield cracks under the pressure she exerts, while her hand doesn''t yield in the slightest.
Valeria collapses onto her guard''s corpse, retrieving her bloodied phone. "If I am to die, I''m taking you all with me," she mutters, pressing her phone¡¯s screen. They both disengage, bursting towards Valeria without a care for each other.
A flash of light appears behind Dubai¡¯s tallest towers. Valeria''s crazed smile curls off as she sees it, despair etching her face. She releases her Ether, turning to dust, blown away by the fires¡¯ winds.
"You leveled up, Melee Weapon (long sword) leveled up (x4)," the system announces.
The ground trembles as explosions¡¯ deafening roars shatter windows and topple buildings. The sky darkens, shockwaves rippling outward, flattening entire city blocks. The air fills with debris¡ªconcrete, glass, and twisted metal.
Shimmering waves of Ether pulse outward, distorting reality itself. Buildings twist and contort, some lifting from their foundations as if caught in a gravity-defying spell.
As Tatiana watches the explosion, Ethan summons his AT4. ''Piercing shot,'' he thinks as he pulls the trigger, and Tatiana detonates instantly. The bomb¡¯s shockwave blows the rocket¡¯s smoke, leaving an empty, scorched spot.
Ethan stumbles as the floor cracks beneath him, forcing him to parkour to the inner yard. He jumps from floor to floor, grabbing rebar to slow himself down until he lands. He scans the yard and sees Kyle and Russ entering it from the parking lot.
He spots Kate urging civilians to exit the bar. The single floor above them cracks and deforms. A block of concrete falls on Kate in Ethan''s Prescience, and he bursts through the yard. "Above!"
Kate looks up and moves aside, but a man exiting the building pushes her back out of his way. It strikes Kate''s head, and another larger piece crashes down beside her. Ethan grabs it but senses a whole section of the wall above detaching. He throws Kyle''s sword next to him.
''Strengthening,'' Ethan thinks before catching the falling concrete above his head. Another block falls on the one he holds, and the weight brings him to one knee. "Russ, rescue!" he orders.
Russ runs towards them with his tail between his legs. Kyle follows him but pales in comparison to the dog''s speed. Something detonates in the middle of the yard, creating a cloud of smoke quickly dispelled by the bombs'' waves.
Tatiana appears from it, her cyan, scaled left arm fully exposed as Ethan''s rocket tore off her sleeve. She lunges at Ethan, aiming to slice through his chest.
With a burst of speed, Kyle intercepts her and blocks her attack before it can reach Ethan. His reserve of Ether dwindles with each passing second, already edging life force exhaustion.
Chapter 79: Rematch - Part 2
Russ crawls between the concrete chunks immobilizing Kate and grabs her by her dress, tugging at it. Ethan squats the wall he''s carrying, slowly lifting himself when another chunk falls on it. He falls back to one knee, drawing all the Ether he can to bear the crushing weight.
Tatiana attempts to maneuver around Kyle, but he counters each of her strikes with precision. Her lightning pierces through his defense, striking and burning his flesh. Yet he seems unaffected by his wounds.
Kyle''s breaths grow ragged as black veins appear on his neck. With a brutal clash of blades, Kyle forces Tatiana back to the center of the yard. He collapses, unable to move, leaning on his blade, stabbed in the ground beside him.
''I could do it with Tombstone. I have to try,'' Ethan thinks, fearing that what he plans could kill him and Kate. He diverts parts of the Ether he absorbs and guides through his back to Kyle and into his heart.
"Ether manipulation leveled up," the system announces. Kyle stands back up, feeding his abilities with the Ether Ethan gives him. "Thank you," Kyle says, steeling himself as Tatiana leaps back up.
She thrusts her sword at the ground, planting it next to her. The scales of her left arm blaze with a bright ethereal glow. The air crackles with energy, and a roar echoes across the yard, covering the sounds of crashing buildings.
Sparks travel from her feet to beyond Ethan''s. Tatiana''s eyes blaze with Ether as a serpentine illusion wraps its spectral form around her arm. Ethan casts Shield, willing the spell to form not around himself but around Kyle.
Tatiana hurls a beam of lightning bolts at them. The bolts arc through the air, leaving a trail of blinding light in their wake. The roars crescendos, cracking the pavement of the yard and deafening the survivors.
The lightning strikes the shield with a thunderous impact, each bolt crackling and cracking its surface. It shatters, and the attack flails Kyle with bolts that burn through his flesh.
Protecting his face with his sword, Kyle stands his ground, clenching his fists with such strength that he bleeds over the handle. Through Kyle''s abilities, Ethan''s Ether substitutes the muscles, and bones damaged by her magic. Yet, this ability of his doesn''t negate the damage his heart and other organs suffer.
Time seems to stand still as the power of the lightning beam reaches its climax. She closes her palm despite the Ether of her arm not being fully consumed. The attack vanishes along the roaring illusion wrapped around her arm. Kyle drops to his knees, his body smoking and trembling from the onslaught.
Russ frees Kate from the rubble and drags her off to the side, towards a cover of fallen debris. Ethan staggers under the crushing weight of the concrete, his body straining as he holds with every fibers of his body. He bends to the side, aiming to discharge the weight onto the ground.
Kyle forces himself to stand, leaning heavily on his sword. His body is a patchwork of burns and open wounds, filled with broken bones held together by Ethan''s Ether.
Tatiana''s left arm starts slowly absorbing Ether from its surroundings as she pries her sword from the ground. She poses her blade with both her hands, coating it in lightning, and mutters, "I''m going to enjoy this."
Kyle readies himself, barely able to stand through the pain.
"Kyle won''t survive this attack," Ethan realizes. His heart races, and a sensation of intense heat blooms from his chest, radiating through his veins. Every fiber of his being thrums with power. His fingers pass through the concrete, gripping it. He rises, the oppressive weight now feeling light in comparison to the force pulsing through him.
"Strengthening ranked up," the system announces.
"Prescience," Ethan thinks. The world around him slows as he previews the chunk of wall hurtle through the air, missing Tatiana by a hair as she bursts forward.
Tatiana lunges at Kyle in a single step, leaping through the air slightly above the ground. Ethan channels all his Ether, prying it from Kyle for an instant, and swings the massive slab of concrete with all his might.
Her eyes widen as the projectile closes in, the realization dawning on her that she''s unable to dodge. It sends her sprawling, the impact reverberating through the battlefield. The slab skits on the ground and hits a wall, collapsing it and the two stories above.
Tatiana spins around in the air and grabs the ground with her left arm to stop herself. She stands back up and relocates her right shoulder in an echoing pop.
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Kyle steps forward as Ethan restores his Ether sharing. Ethan says, "You should go; take Six and get away from here."
"I fear the only thing keeping me alive is you right now," Kyle retorts. He passes his hand over his eyes and flicks off blood leaking from his temple. "You either make it out, or neither of us do. You won''t convince me to leave you."
She charges again, her sword alight with fresh lightning. The ground trembles beneath her as she approaches with blinding speed.
Kyle''s blade meets Tatiana''s with a deafening clash, sparks flying from the impact. Tatiana''s strength and speed seem to increase with each passing moment.
Ethan summons Skysong and thrusts at her, hoping to catch Tatiana off guard. She dodges by twisting her body, but the distraction is enough for Kyle to land a blow on her side.
Blood spills from her wound, yet it seems like it is already healing. As Ethan sees it, he''s reminded of Thrumm using the same ability. ''She has Regeneration,'' he realizes.
She snarls, retaliating with a strike that sends Kyle stumbling back. She follows through on Ethan with a series of close, rapid cuts. He deflects her with the spear''s metallic shaft, each of her blows scarring it.
Her blade''s lightning doesn''t pierce Skysong but travels it and gathers on its blade. He sees Tatiana''s next move, her sword piercing Kyle''s defense to stab his throat.
Ethan swings Skysong, aiming for her sword. The impact generates a crackling explosion of lighting that sends Ethan''s weapon into the ground and her sword into the air.
Kyle thrusts Phantom Reaver at her chest, piercing her right lung. She moves in, furthering the blade into her own body. Her scaled fist coats in flaming Ether, and she punches Kyle in the face, Ethan unable to react between Prescience and reality.
Kyle flies into a building too far away from Ethan for his Ether to reach Kyle. ''Fuck.'' Ethan bursts into Kyle''s direction, but Tatiana grabs him by the ankle. She slams Ethan into the ground and then twists her entire body to send him into an opposite building.
Ethan''s plexus crashes first into a wall, the impact paralyzing his diaphragm and emptying his lungs. He falls into the yard, unable to breathe; he stands up and moves forward, but the lack of oxygen blurs his sight.
Kyle exits the building in a smoking explosion. Black veins crawl under his paling skin, yet he seems faster than ever. Tatiana grabs her sword as it falls down and pries Skysong from the ground. She throws his spear at Ethan, forcing him to dodge as he struggles to breathe.
Kyle roars as their blades clash, the impact sending shockwaves through the yard. Each strike shatters the pavement, creating a web of cracks that spread out from their feet. Sparks and arcs of lightning fly with every collision, illuminating the battlefield.
Kyle slows down, soon landing his last blow that is nothing more than a desperate, childish swing. She relishes in the moment, slowly readying her sword to cleave him from head to toe.
Kyle impales her below her throat, the sudden burst of speed allowed by a last shard of life force escaping her reflexes. "I missed," he says along a gulp of blood.
She recoils, grabbing her throat in pain as her pendant, pierced by his attack, falls on the ground. She lunges forward, stabbing Kyle through the heart. The gem at the base of her blade pulses, and a red whisp escapes Kyle''s body.
"No!" Ethan roars, finally finding his breath. Despite his heart being filled with Ether, he feels life force seeping into it. He wills it to flow into his heart and form the Flame sigils in his mind. The fireball he summons bathes the hotel in a blinding blue light as it traverses the yard in a flash. It shrieks in the air, vaporizing it on its path until it collides with its target.
It doesn''t explode but rather expands, covering Tatiana and the rubble behind her in a cone of radiant light. She''s propelled backward, her body and clothes igniting.
Ethan rushes at Kyle''s side, catching him in his fall. Despite his strength, Ethan feels Kyle''s weight in his arm. He stares down at Kyle, his heart sinking as he sees the blood pooling from the wound in Kyle''s chest. Ethan presses on the wound, unable to stop the bleeding.
"I got what I wanted," Kyle coughs. He places his sword and smoke packet in Ethan''s hand. "Killing him was the point; making it out was always optional. I got what I wanted, and now I can go in peace knowing he won''t hurt anyone else."
''Maelor, if you can hear me, I beg of you to come save him!'' Ethan thinks, his prayers unanswered.
Ethan''s hand trembles as he clutches the sword, Kyle''s blood still warm on the handle. The world around him seems to blur, the edges of his vision darkening as a red-hot fury builds within him.
Ethan''s breath comes in ragged, uneven gasps. His heart pounds in his chest like a war drum, each beat a call to violence. He looks down at Kyle''s lifeless body, his whitening eyes staring into the void.
Tatiana exits the pile of rubble. The spell scorched her skin, creating wide wounds that don''t heal. Her hair falls out in burning chunks as her clothes melt onto her skin. "Did I break a Reaper''s heart?" she mocks, the wound in her throat turning her voice cancerous. "Do not worry; I''ll send you right after him. Maybe you will catch the same ride to hell."
"This ends now," Ethan growls. The red strand hovering Kyle''s body sinks into Ethan, restoring his life force. "Insight."
Tatiana Chertov
Lv.20/20 (Vanguard) Human
Lv.14/30 (Ascended ¨C Immortal)
Strength: 22 Charisma: 12
Dexterity: 15 Perception: 17
Constitution: 37 Willpower: 20
Intelligence: 14
Talent
Last stand
Rapid growth
Titles
Ascended
Ascended skill ¨C Melee weapon (saber)
Ascended skill ¨C Melee weapon (great sword)
Dryad huntress
Dungeon conqueror (C)
Dungeon conqueror (D)
Dungeon conqueror (E)
Dungeon conqueror (F)
Faun huntress
Goblin huntress
Human huntress
Imp huntress
Kin slayer
Mistress of the hunt
Necrospider huntress
Ogre huntress
Troll huntress
Warg huntress
Wolf huntress
Abilities
Berserk (F)
Blazing strike (F)
Damage transfer (F)
Endurance (C)
Harmony ¨C Lightning breath (F)
Sanctuary (C)
Silent steps (D)
Strengthening (D)
Toughness (C)
Unyielding (F)
Regeneration (F)
Chapter 80: Rematch - Part 3
Ethan casts a Debilitating hex. Tendrils of Ether lunge at Tatiana, but she leaps back and dashes around, skillfully avoiding them until he dispels them. ''I have to keep her from regenerating,'' Ethan thinks. He summons fire into his hands and wills his spell to weave around his blade in a spiral, coating it in a scorching aura. Flames flicker and dance along the edge of the blade.
Tatiana''s eyes narrow, the last remnants of arrogance leaving her face. She keeps moving, seeking an opening in Ethan''s stance from several steps away.
Taking a deep breath, Ethan visualizes another set of sigils in his mind. They glow with a faint golden light, pulsing with his heartbeats as Ether flows into his skin, casting a Dermal Shield. He grits his teeth, his vision narrowing to a tunnel as casting multiple spells induces immense mental stress.
Ethan lunges forward, his blade slicing through the air with a searing hiss. Tatiana meets his attack head-on, her sword''s lightning crackling against the blazing flames. Her blade''s fulgurant afterimage shatters on Ethan''s shield while his fire washes over her, searing her arms.
Fear grows in Tatiana''s eyes as Ethan presses his advantage. She channels more Ether into her sword, which glows brighter with each strike. Lightning snakes along the ground, rubble, and walls, shattering them and sending shards raining down.
Ethan thrusts his sword forward, pouring more Ether into the flames. Tatiana tries to dodge, but the fire catches her side, engulfing her in a blaze. She screams, the sound echoing through the burning wreckage. She grabs Ethan''s blade with her left arm, locking it at her side, and swings at him.
Ethan releases his left hand and dodges to the side, still holding his blade. He transforms the flames pouring from his free hand into a jet stream. She lets go of his blade and leaps backward, protecting her face with her sword.
As fire engulfs her, Ethan channels all his Ether into Strengthening, preparing to cleave her as the flames obscure her vision. He bursts forward but collapses, blood pouring from his mouth and fire igniting in his lungs.
"I feared it would turn you into sludge, but it seems you''re strong enough to linger," a harsh, mechanical rasp emerges. Each word grates with a metallic echo, underscored by a guttural undertone.
Ethan turns towards the voice, his gaze locking onto the Plague Merchant. A metallic half-mask conceals the ravaged side of his jaw. Translucent gas seeps from an open vial strapped inside his coat, swirling around him like fog.
Helicopter rotors appear in the distance, along with the engines of vehicles spreading through the area. The fire covering Tatiana recedes, and she approaches slowly, as if the fight has ended.
Ethan forces himself to stand, stumbling towards the Plague Merchant, his sword poised at his side. His adversary doesn¡¯t move, a smile on his face. ''Look desperate,'' Ethan thinks as he swings childishly.
The Plague Merchant looks at the approaching blade with amusement. Ethan snaps his offhand fingers, freezing the Ether; golden dust appears and falls from the Plague Merchant''s skin. Ethan roars, pouring all his might into the last inches of his swing. Pain sparks through his body as the poison spreads; Ethan''s blade deviates, cutting off his target''s right arm at the shoulder.
The Plague Merchant screams, grasping his shoulder as he falls. His blood pools on the ground as he cries out in pain. Tatiana charges with a primal roar, her muscles billowing with vapor. Glowing red veins protrude along her skin, and she swells in size.
Ethan dispels his Silence and summons the Flame spell once more, hurling a jet of fire at her. She charges through, parting the flames with her arms. Each of her erratic strides shakes the ground, sending clouds of dust into the air. Ethan stops his spell, preparing to cast a debilitating hex, waiting for her to get close enough.
A motorcycle lunges through the air from behind the rubble. The rider, displaying impeccable precision, smashes Tatiana''s head with the back wheel. The impact sends her staggering backward, momentarily dazed. Ethan unleashes his spell, dark tendrils seeping into her burning flesh.
The rider dismounts mid-air, using the momentum to swing the motorcycle like a massive club. The improvised weapon strikes Tatiana with a resounding crash, pushing her back several steps.
Tatiana recovers from the initial shock and lets out a guttural roar, her eyes blazing. She swings at the rider, cleaving the motorcycle and scattering its parts. The rider¡¯s fists coat in flaming Ether, and he punches her with both fists in the chest, using his entire body. She flies past the remains of the hotel in a deflagration that snuffs out the surrounding fires.
"Tombstone only told me where you were when the bombs went off," the rider says as he removes his helmet. The short-haired young man holds a vial of red potion before Ethan, his blue eyes emotionless.
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"Must I understand you disobeyed orders and abandoned your mission to come to Dubai?" Ethan coughs as he takes the vial. He uncorks it and swallows the contents. The pain tearing through his body vanishes, replaced by radiating heat. "Because right now, I¡¯m glad you did, One."
One slides his hand into a medieval satchel strapped to his belt and pulls out a pair of scaled metallic gloves. The Plague Merchant stands up, dropping a vial that shatters on the ground. He stumbles forward, scratching his shoulder as it scars.
Ethan summons his Glock and shoots him in the knees, shoulders, left lung, and three times at the base of his spine. The Plague Merchant falls, his mask clattering against the ground.
One strides towards the Plague Merchant, his hair lifting in the air as tremendous amounts of Ether leak into his muscles. Flaming Ether forms on his fists and feet, licking up his limbs.
"You can have him once we''ve dealt with her," Ethan says. Tatiana crashes into the yard, still frenzied. "We can''t allow her to escape and grow stronger."
The three charge forward as Ethan coats his blade with fire once again. Each step shatters the ground, their movements creating echoing blasts. ''She moves so fast; I can only use Prescience to see a tenth of a second ahead, or it splits into too many possibilities,'' Ethan thinks.
Every clash of blades and armored fists sends shockwaves through the air. The sparks they generate blind the terrified crowd, who crawl away from the moving battle. The very sounds of their fight shatter the eardrums of those who stand too close.
One of Tatiana''s wide slashes cleaves a man in half. Red strands appear from his sectioned corpse, diving into Tatiana''s body. Her muscles swell again, and with an instantaneous slash, she sends Ethan flying back. Ethan''s blade vibrates in his hand, shaking his bones as he lands.
Lightning bolts cover her mutated arm, and she opens her palm towards Ethan. The serpentine illusion curls around her arm and roars, projecting a beam of lightning forward. One grabs her arm in mid-jump and twists it away. The electric arcs she unleashes slice a news helicopter in half, releasing a cloud of fire in the air. One contorts and passes over her shoulder, dragging her forearm with him and redirecting the blast into her face.
Ethan charges back, deflecting a sword blow aimed at One. The force of the impact sends shockwaves that ripple through the crumbling hotel. Tatiana''s eyes gleam with malevolent fury, her muscles pulsating with stolen life force.
One places a series of rapid, precise, and powerful blows that exploit her shifting balance. The speed of his attacks creates a blur, his movements too fast to follow. Her ribcage shatters under the force of his ability. Her mutated arm moves like a whip, deflecting his last attack and striking him in the chest.
The three combatants move in a deadly dance, their blows weaving a web of destruction. Tatiana''s laughter echoes through the chaos, a sound of pure, unbridled madness.
With each strike, One''s blazing fists grow brighter, her body collapsing under their impacts. He falls back slightly and focuses his ability at the tip of his extended fingers, turning the blazing Ether into beaming tips. He bursts forward, his arm turning into a radiant spear aimed at her heart.
His fingers collide with her in a golden blast, a shield stopping them. Ethan snaps his fingers, emptying his Ether in a Silence spell. Her shield vanishes, and One stabs through her chest. His hand reaches the other side, impaling her heart.
She lifts her blade, roaring as she brings it down on One. Ethan parries it and sends it flying into the air. He ends his spell, and he summons Dark Fate, stabbing it into her skull. She falls to her knees, life leaving her gaze.
Ethan grabs her falling blade and plunges it into her chest as One removes his hand. Its gem pulsates, and red strands start leaving her body.
One walks toward the Plague Merchant who still lingers on the ground.
"Come here," Tatiana coughs, surprising Ethan. He approaches her cautiously, his sword ready to counter any move she might make. "I don''t have long," she gasps. "On my phone... you''ll find a bank account that needs to go to my son. The code is the first of May, two thousand and eleven. He needs it or they will stop cur..." Her voice fades as black veins spread across her face.
One tears up the Plague Merchant''s smoking coat and throws it far away. He lifts him to his dangling feet with one hand, staring into his terrified eyes. One''s voice trembles with a mix of triumph and fury. "Finally, after all these years, you will pay for the nightmares you''ve plagued me with," he growls, his voice echoing with raw hatred. "Every scream, every tear, every moment of agony ¨C this is for all of it."
He rips off his own shirt, revealing a huge chemical scar marring his sculpted chest. "Look upon your creation as it snaps the life out of you," One screams, lifting him higher off the ground.
The Plague Merchant''s throat twitches as he tries to speak. "Are you going to cry, beg, plead for mercy?" One taunts. "As if it would work. You of all people should know; not even the pleas of children go answered."
One tightens his grip further, slowly suffocating the Plague Merchant. His eyes roll back as his head falls to the side, and One crushes his neck before throwing him to the ground.
"You leveled up, you leveled up, you leveled up, Melee Weapon (Long sword) leveled up (x19), Melee Weapon (Dagger) leveled up, Melee Weapon (Spear) leveled up (x10), Ether manipulation leveled up, Life force manipulation leveled up." The system''s announcements follow each other in Ethan''s mind.
Ethan pries Tatiana''s phone from her pocket as he pulls out his dagger. "Are you alright?" he asks One. He wrenches her sword free and takes pictures of both her and the Plague Merchant.
"Never better," One replies. He pulls a shirt from his satchel and covers himself. He stops over Kyle''s body and lifts it off the ground. "Do you have a car?"
"Maybe," Ethan answers. He moves away from the corpses before throwing a fireball at each of them. He guides One to the side of the yard, where he grabs Kate before entering the parking lot. Russ follows closely, his tail curled and his ears flattened.
Military and rescue vehicles crowd the roads as they drive away from the hotel. Helicopters shine their lights on the collapsed buildings, taking the place of the downed streetlamps. The distortions of space created by the bombs linger, forming a haunting tableau frozen in time.
Chapter 81: Funerals
Ethan stands alone before Kyle''s pyre atop a flat rock in the vast desert. The flames cast a flickering light over the desolate landscape, where only the distant glimmers of boats and planes can be seen. He left his phone in the car, hoping to be truly alone, free from anyone¡¯s prying ears.
A knot tightens in his chest, but his face remains stoic. Russ, lying nearby, whines softly as he half-heartedly gnaws on a camel''s bone.
"Kate survived¡ we both did thanks to you," Ethan begins, his voice breaking the silence. "One had potions that healed her, and now she''s resting with a view of the sea. And One had to leave; he didn''t want Tombstone angrier than she must already be."
Ethan stands motionless, the words spilling out into the solitude of the desert. "I always kept my distance, you know?" he says, his gaze fixed on the dancing flames. "It was easier that way. I thought getting too close meant having something to lose. I convinced myself that it was the only way to avoid getting hurt again."
He pauses, his throat tightening. "But it disturbs me that I don''t feel much of anything. You are the first of us I''ve seen die, and yet I felt nothing but seconds of rage," Ethan admits. "This isn''t right. I should be overwhelmed with pain, sorrow, or even hatred. But all I have is a vague knot in my heart."
"Standing here¡ I realize how little I knew of you. It wouldn''t have made things more painful; my heart is too cold for that," Ethan says. He approaches as the flames die down. He takes a deep breath, the hot air filling his lungs. "I''m sorry I didn''t try to know you better. Maybe if I had, I would have realized earlier that you weren''t ready, and you might still be alive."
The fire dwindles as Ethan replays the mission in his mind, imagining it without Kyle, only to conclude that if it wasn¡¯t Kyle, it might have been Kate. Ethan lets out a bitter laugh. "Listen to me," he mutters, shaking his head as if to dispel his thoughts. "Who am I kidding? It''s not like I''d suddenly let Kate or Tombstone in, not like I''d break down those walls. She might lose interest if I did anyway."
He paces around the dying ember. He stops, staring down at the last remnants of Kyle''s pyre; the flames are now nothing more than faint glows. "Tombstone told me your father is still alive and that you kept in contact. It won''t be easy for him, but we''ll tell him you were killed in a fire. We couldn¡¯t let your body out of our supervision; protocols, you¡¯d understand."
Ethan carves the mark of the goddess of death along the stone. "I don¡¯t know which god you prayed to, if any. But if Maelor¡¯s memory serves me right, this should protect your soul from necromancers and other fuckery. ¡ I¡¯ll let you rest now."
Ethan turns away as the ashes are swept away by the wind. He enters his car just as his phone buzzes. He picks up.
"Is it done?" Tombstone asks, her voice weary even through the voice changer.
"Yes," Ethan confirms, the word rasping in his throat. "I''m going back to check on Six."
"The higher-ups finished discussing your report," Tombstone says. "It seems they¡¯ve finally realized how much our world has changed. The whole world has. ¡ They¡¯re thinking of bringing everyone home to focus on the system and its dungeons, even if it will cost us a fortune in delayed contracts."
"I¡¯ve only seen posts and news about the bombs. But how are things on our side? Did we get exposed?" Ethan asks.
"Our system caught a few blurred footages taken by witnesses in the yard. But they were purged from social media and their phones. You can thank Cypher for that," Tombstone replies. "I¡¯ve read a few police reports, but they couldn¡¯t describe any of you with any accuracy."
"Good," Ethan says. "That was a mess. Share my apologies with Cypher; he must be working around the clock to cover everything."
The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.
"We both are. We¡¯re trying to pin the bombs on China," Tombstone says. "The local government is already questioning them anyway. They fear being dragged down with them as they authorized their intervention."
"Sorry," Ethan says. "Did you find anything on Tatiana¡¯s potential son?"
"It appears her child is battling an unknown illness in the U.S.," Tombstone informs Ethan. "His symptoms began four years ago, around the time she started working for your target."
"I assume it¡¯s safe to say the Plague Merchant may have poisoned him," Ethan says. "She mentioned a bank account she wanted her son to inherit. You must have a lot on your hands, but when you have the time, could you look into it? That was her dying wish."
"If only Four hadn¡¯t taught you to respect them¡ The account is empty," Tombstone says. "It seems someone drained many of the funds related to the Plague Merchant."
Ethan¡¯s throat tightens. "How much was in there?" he asks.
"Around three million," Tombstone informs with a detached tone. An account report appears on his screen, showing the last transactions draining the funds.
Ethan falls silent, staring at it for a moment. He brings the phone back to his ear. "Take that amount out of my pay for the Plague Merchant and use that instead. ¡ It isn¡¯t much after all."
He hears her sigh through the phone. "I will."
"If that¡¯s everything, I¡¯ll drive back to Six¡¯s hotel," Ethan says.
"I had a hit on Christopher Hayes; he still looks exactly like his portrait," Tombstone informs. "He landed a private plane in Turkey and left alone. I lost him in a rental car, driving southeast near the frontier of Iraq."
Ethan¡¯s heart pounds in his chest. "Then I might be going there after leaving Six," he says.
"Iraq is a big country, even if it¡¯s mostly empty," Tombstone says. "I¡¯ll tell you when I find more on him, but for now, you¡¯ll probably both be called back home. Good night, Five."
''She¡¯s right; finding him in this desert will take an eternity. I should check in with Cole before going back to base,'' Ethan thinks. The call ends, and Ethan starts the engine. He opens the passenger seat, and Russ, who was waiting behind, leaps in.
Ethan pushes open the door of the hotel where he left Kate, finding her at the farthest edge of the bar. Russ walks off to a dark patch of grass outside, nibbling on his bone. Only a few patrons are present, eating their dinner as they watch the news.
"The latest reports estimate the number of victims to be as high as sixty thousand," the TV chatters. "Rescue teams are still unable to enter the center. The Ether there destroys drones and specialized robots in mere seconds. Here are images of the scene with our local reporter."
The bartender switches the channel, struggling to find one that doesn¡¯t speak of the tragedy. He settles on a soccer game and places down the remote.
Ethan sits down beside Kate and flashes predator''s sight to ensure that no one is paying attention to them. "How¡¯s your head?" he asks, his voice low enough for only her to hear.
"Just a small scar," she answers. "It¡¯s my leg that got the big one. Who would want me now?"
Ethan puffs at her remark. "I¡¯m sure you¡¯ll find a way to remove it if you want to. A light Ether crystal would suffice; I should have kept one of those."
The bartender approaches and pours a glass of whiskey for Ethan. The man is visibly tired and sad. He leaves without a word and returns to cleaning glasses.
"I thought spirits were prohibited here," Ethan remarks as he sips the glass.
"They loosened the regulation for foreigners. And tonight, everyone is drinking," Kate says. "Don¡¯t beat yourself up over Nine. He isn¡¯t the first to die on one of our missions, and I doubt he¡¯ll be the last."
"He was the first to die on one of mine," Ethan admits. "Most likely because I rarely work with others. And I think our four missions together make up most of the times it happened."
"That probably was the last time," Kate says as she sips her own cocktail.
"What do you mean?" Ethan asks. "Are you thinking of quitting?"
"Do you know why Valeria was my target?" Kate asks.
"Because she was gay," Ethan answers without hesitation.
"¡ Well, yes. But mainly because it shouldn¡¯t have required a bloodbath and the destruction of a city. It should have been a quiet accident in a hotel room or at one of her homes," Kate says.
"You could say it was exceptional," Ethan says, half-reassuring himself. "But it could also become the new norm."
"And now our targets come back from the dead. What do I do when I¡¯m alone with them?" Kate says. "I¡¯m not like you; I would die if that happened to me."
"I only survived because she made a mistake. She summoned a demon that was infinitely stronger than me, but by chance, she broke the pact she made with him, and he turned on her," Ethan says. He finishes his glass and motions to the bartender for another one.
"Ding," the system chimes. Ethan scans the bar, realizing that everyone heard that noise again. "The nine primordial labyrinths will now manifest in your world."
Chapter 82: Second stage
A gray window materializes in front of each bar patron. A few are surprised by it, as if they hadn''t accustomed themselves to this new fact of life.
Invitation to the Primordial Labyrinths
You are invited to enter the Primordial Labyrinths. If you choose to accept, you will be transported to one of the nine remaining labyrinths.
Declining this invitation is not final; you may summon it again by speaking its name.
Do you accept?
YES NO
Kate quickly taps ''NO,'' causing the window to vanish.
"Ding," the system chimes again, but the sound is distorted. Ethan feels a strange pull on his mind, as if a vision was about to take hold. The system''s voice morphs, still distorted but becoming that of a living woman laced with hatred. "Villagers who turned on their kin became Wolves hiding among you. Their cursed blood now thirsts for yours; any attempt at abstinence will drive them mad, transforming them into crazed beasts. The mark of the curse of monstrosity will appear on their backs."
Ethan''s eyes scan the bar, searching for any sign of panic, anyone who might be hiding something. The patrons exchange suspicious glances. The bartender nervously keeps checking the door to the kitchen. A man crouches under his table, his eyes darting to every shadowed corner of the room.
"They will come for you in your sleep. Protect yourselves, and exterminate them," the voice continues, a chilling undertone in every word.
"Why did the voice change?" Ethan mutters, confused.
Kate gives him a puzzled look. "What do you mean?"
"The voice just now," Ethan says, the mental pull suddenly fading. "It wasn''t the system''s usual robotic tone. It was... alive and angry."
Kate shakes her head. "It sounded exactly the same to me. What it said was more intense, sure, but the voice didn''t change." She gently lifts his hair, checking the back of his head. "Are you sure you''re okay? She didn''t hit you too hard, did she?"
Ethan''s mind races. ''The chime and the voice were distorted, just like at the source of Ether,'' he thinks. He tries to focus, hoping to trigger another vision, but nothing comes. ''It''s not like I can ask another Ishai fruit eater for advice.''
The bartender, visibly shaken, fumbles for the remote and switches the TV back to the news channel. The live commentators stare at each other, stunned into silence. One of them glances nervously off-camera, where the teleprompter should be.
Another pulls out her phone, her eyes widening as she reads something. "This is breaking news, but it seems that... reports are coming in of...," she stammers. Her eyes dart back to her phone, disbelief etched on her face. "Social media are erupting with live footage of Mount Vesuvius; it''s spewing massive amounts of ash over Naples. Lava is seeping through cracks across its surface. Thousands are¡ª"
The screen behind them flashes, displaying a dark, rural European landscape. The image flickers with static. The sky above churns with black clouds, spiraling into an abyss. A thick mist rises from the forests, revealing an enormous castle, its towering spires piercing the dark clouds.
The castle''s stone absorbs what little light remains. Its ancient walls are scarred from battles long past and entangled with thorny vines. A low rumble reverberates through the television, shaking the ground beneath the steady cameraman.
The mist thickens, curling around the city like dark tendrils. The camera struggles to capture the buildings as they disappear in the fog. The person filming retreats into their car; panic spreads through the streets and screams echo from homes.
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A man sprints into view, his face twisted in terror. He races past the car, pursued by a mass of black fog that surges after him.
The cameraman hides in their seat, their breath quickening as their hands tremble, shaking the phone. Darkness engulfs the car, swirling in patterns of black and grey. Shadows press against the glass, tendrils of fog caressing the windows.
A woman''s scream shatters the silence. The camera jerks, capturing fleeting, chaotic images before it tumbles to the floor with a thud. The camera now points upward, catching a glimpse of the fog retreating through the car¡¯s seams.
"It''s empty!" a patron gasps as they all see the now-vacant seat where the woman should have been. The studio cuts the livestream, replacing it with a black screen. The commentators sit frozen, their mouths agape, mirroring the stunned expressions of the bar''s patrons.
Kate shatters the bar''s silence with the crunch of an olive, the sound echoing faintly through the room. The patrons fix their eyes on her, as if she¡¯s committed some unspeakable offense, stunned by her complete lack of reaction.
Realization dawns on Ethan, and he quickly steps off his stool, pulling out his phone as he heads for the door. He holds it open as Kate follows him.
"Welcome back, Reaper Five," Tombstone greets him, concern creeping through the voice modifier. "Judging by your timing, I assume you''ve seen the first images of the... labyrinths."
"Yes. Sorry to bother you so late, but I need to know something," Ethan says, his heart pounding as he clings to the hope of a lead on his most crucial mission. "I know about Naples and Eastern Europe, but is anything happening in Iraq or nearby?"
"It''s in Romania," Tombstone precises, her typing audible through the phone. "I''ve also seen footage from southwest England; the wildlife there is growing out of control, shrouded in a thick, ethereal mist. And to top it off, the land is shifting, isolating the area behind water."
"Pompeii, Dracula, and... Avalon," Ethan thinks aloud, his mind flashing back to lessons from his father. "Check south of Baghdad, where Babylon or Uruk once stood."
"Uruk?" Kate asks, her curiosity piqued.
"The first city," Ethan explains, waiting for Tombstone''s response. Seeing Kate''s confusion, he elaborates, "The birthplace of writing and recorded history. The kingdom of the legendary Gilgamesh. His epic depicts him as a two-thirds god, a hero-king who sought immortality and later became a god of the afterlife."
"And how do you, of all people, know that?" Kate teases, raising an eyebrow.
"My father was kind of a historian," Ethan replies. "He even had a convincing fake tablet of the Epic of Gilgamesh above his fireplace."
"You were right," Tombstone says, sending a satellite image to Ethan''s phone. A colossal labyrinthine city has emerged from the desert, its stone walls adorned with gold. At its center stands a massive Ziggurat, surrounded by a sprawling palace atop lush gardens.
"I''m going there," Ethan declares, heading towards his car. He opens the back door, and Russ jumps in.
"Did you forget that you''ll soon be called back?" Tombstone warns.
"They haven''t ordered it yet, and I''m not asking for permission," Ethan retorts, handing Kate the keys to a second vehicle parked nearby. "I''m giving them the courtesy of a warning. I''ll trade for a more suitable vehicle at the Saudi-Iraq border."
"Hey, calm down. I''m on your side," Tombstone reassures him. "I''ll keep you updated on government responses. But you''ll have some explaining to do when you return."
"Thanks," Ethan says, ending the call. As he gazes at the image of the desert labyrinth, memories of his first vision from the Ishai fruit flood back. ''What''s the endgame here? Is our world slowly turning into theirs, or does it end with my premonition?''
He turns to Kate and steps closer. "I can''t tell you what to do; it''s your life. But the world is getting crazier every day, and hiding might not be a long-term solution."
Kate locks eyes with him, her intensity making his heart race. "There''s something you''re not telling me, isn''t there?" she asks, her insight cutting through his defenses.
''If I tell her, I might as well say goodbye to any freedom. Whoever controls N.E.S.T. would lock me up and use my abilities at every opportunity,'' he thinks, feeling his mouth go dry as he struggles to find a lie.
"No need to explain," Kate says, taking his hand. Her eyes are filled with concern. "I may not take on another target for a while, maybe never. But I won''t sit by and let the whole world become a threat to me. I''ll move forward at my own pace."
"Good," Ethan replies, relieved. As he pulls his hand away, Kate notices a ring of protection he¡¯s summoned in hers. "This isn''t much, and honestly, I forgot I had it. But it might save you one day, and I want you to have it."
"It''s a bit strange to gift a woman a man''s ring," Kate jests, but her expression softens as she slips it onto her finger. "If I didn''t know better, I''d think you''re proposing."
Ethan shakes his head. "It''s just a ring of protection. But I guess it''s my way of keeping you safe when I can''t be there."
She looks at him, her teasing smile fading into something more serious. "Don''t do anything reckless, alright?"
"I''ll be fine," Ethan assures her, stepping into his car. "I just need to have a conversation with someone. The only annoying part is he''s probably heading into the labyrinth."
"See you soon," Kate says, turning on her heels and heading back into the bar.
"An eighteen-hour drive through the desert," Ethan says to Russ. "At least we''ll have a view of the sea for most of it."
Sylas – Chapter 1: Trapped
"Sylas?!" Edgar¡¯s voice booms as he enters through the smithy¡¯s door. He strides past the forge entrance, shielding his face from the blazing heat. "I told you to go home! Don¡¯t tell me you worked all night."
Sylas remains focused on the steel pommel he¡¯s shaping with a grindstone, not even glancing at Edgar. Once the pommel reaches the desired shape, he places it on his workbench. He turns, covering a cracked Wind Ether crystal that had been fueling a furnace. The flames die down, revealing the tang of a blade being tempered within.
"I said the spears could wait. We don¡¯t owe the guard to deliver on time, especially when they¡¯re bleeding us dry with their mandated prices." Edgar pours water from a large barrel and hands it to Sylas. "You¡¯ve got to be careful. That new ability of yours might keep you standing forever, but look at you¡ªthere isn¡¯t a drop of water left in your body."
Sylas takes the cup, realizing that dehydration might be the source of his headache. He pulls the blade from the furnace with his bare hand, dipping it into a barrel of oil. Flames erupt, licking up his forearm. He breathes steadily, drawing in Ether with each breath to fuel his Heat resistance.
Edgar¡¯s gaze shifts to the thirty spears bound together in a wide bundle. He approaches the oil bath, his eyes narrowing as he inspects the blade¡ªa faithful replica of Ethan''s Starfell long sword. He closes his eyes, clearly examining the Ether within the steel.
"What do you think?" Sylas asks, a knot forming in his stomach. Watching others judge his work has always made him anxious, even after countless times.
"You¡¯ve shaped it well, but the Ether isn¡¯t aligned properly in the metal," Edgar critiques. "Still, forging a sword like this would¡¯ve taken me days. My heart can only manipulate enough Ether for half an hour before I need to rest. You¡¯ve done well."
"Yeah, I fought with it for hours, but no matter what I do, the Ether won¡¯t stay at the blade¡¯s edges; it keeps reverting," Sylas sighs.
Edgar places the blade back on the workbench. "You can¡¯t force Ether. If you push it, it pushes back. You¡¯ll get it one day; it just takes practice."
"Well, it might be a while before I can practice with that kind of ore again," Sylas says, a faint smile tugging at his lips. He¡¯s been waiting for Edgar to hear this. "My sword forging skill is ready to ascend. I wanted to finish this piece before starting fresh."
Edgar freezes, stunned. "Already?" he stammers, moving to the back of the shop and nearly stumbling over a pile of coal. "That¡¯s incredible news. I¡¯ve got a bottle of wine saved for a day like this. Just give me a minute."
"It¡¯s six in the morning, Sir. Maybe we should celebrate tonight," Sylas suggests. The thought of wine on an empty stomach makes him feel queasy. He grabs the spears and binds them to his back with a rope. "I need to deliver these spears to the guard. I¡¯ll be back after; there are a few orders I need to finish for adventurers."
As Sylas steps outside, he¡¯s met by a slow-moving procession. Priests of Seraphel surround a large stone coffin carried by silver-clad soldiers bearing the Wyvern emblem¡ªa symbol of an ancient, now kingdom-less army dedicated to protecting people from monsters.
The coffin¡¯s lid is adorned with a sculpture of one such soldier, helmetless, his strong, aged face framed by long hair thinning at the temples. Civilians follow, murmuring prayers for his soul.
Sylas places his hand over his heart and looks to the sky. "Radiant Lord of Light, we humbly beseech you to extend your divine protection over the soul of our departed one. In your boundless mercy, shelter them within the warmth of your eternal glow. May they find solace and purpose as an eternal servant of your divine presence."
As he finishes, he hears a woman beside him concluding her own prayer. "¡ªMay they rest undisturbed, cradled in the quiet of your boundless night, safe from all harm, and at peace in the stillness of your eternal domain."
She walks away, a basket of herbs in her arm. Her prayer to Kaliathra, the goddess of death, is not uncommon or ill-intended, but it unsettles Sylas to think that someone wouldn¡¯t advocate for a soul to ascend to Seraphel.
"Theology leveled up."
Sylas resumes walking, holding the spears upright as he weaves through the procession. It seems endless. If a soldier of this order is being buried here, it¡¯s likely in the cemetery behind the castle where noble families'' crypts are located. This means the procession will pass in front of the garrison¡ªhis destination.
He slips into an alleyway to avoid walking through the crowd. A small group of scruffy men loiter there, one of them juggling a curved dagger. Sylas slows, wary of the encounter. He resists the urge to turn back, knowing it might provoke pursuit. They eye him, and one man, who had been lounging against the wall, straightens.
The man juggling the dagger chuckles. "Go on, kid. We¡¯re not robbers. Just waiting to escort a merchant back to his ship," he says, sheathing the dagger.
Sylas walks past, his eyes darting between them. They watch him with amusement until he gets too close. Three of them step back, and Sylas realizes he¡¯s unintentionally let his aura slip. He quickly restrains the Ether in his heart, stopping the waves of energy radiating from him. "Sorry," he mumbles as he passes, leaving them in uneasy silence.
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Soon, he reaches the garrison. The guards on duty hail their comrades above, who open the portcullis just in time for Sylas to enter without stopping. The garrison¡¯s expansive yard is filled with young recruits, no older than thirteen, stabbing wooden mannequins with sticks.
"They¡¯re all new," Sylas whispers, amused by their uncoordinated, unbalanced strikes. Their instructor kicks their legs with his own stick, correcting their stances.
Three recruits stand to the side, panting in sweat-soaked linen clothes. The bulkiest of them¡ªbulky for a thirteen-year-old, at least¡ªspots Sylas chuckling at the sight of his comrades. He marches over, taunting, "Blacksmith, what¡¯s so funny?! Think you can do better than us real Warriors?"
"You¡¯re far from being a real Warrior," a woman¡¯s voice cuts in. Captain Cassandra Emberlain, Captain of the guard and this garrison, descends the stairs from her quarters. "Real warriors recognize when they¡¯re in the presence of someone far superior. Take his spears and distribute them among your comrades. Then, do twenty more laps around the garrison before rejoining practice."
The boys stiffen and obey, taking the bundle of spears from Sylas. "You give me too much credit, Captain. I wouldn¡¯t be able to attack another man."
"Not even if your life depended on it?" she asks, handing Sylas a pouch of coins.
Sylas quickly counts the coins aloud, fearing to appear impolite or mistrustful. Cassandra waits in silence until he says, "That¡¯s forty-five silvers. Everything¡¯s here."
"I didn¡¯t know you could count," Cassandra remarks. "Were you taught to read as well?"
"Yes, Captain, my father taught me," Sylas replies. A shiver runs down his spine as he notices Cassandra eyeing him with interest.
"There¡¯s something we need to discuss," Cassandra says, motioning for him to follow her back up the stairs.
Sylas follows, a knot tightening in his gut. He wonders what she could want from him. Is it more work for the forge? Could she need help because she can¡¯t read? Or is her interest in him something more personal? The thought makes him blush, though he quickly dismisses it as ridiculous.
They reach her quarters, a spacious room with wooden tables covered in large, unfurled maps. She gestures to a wooden stool in front of her desk and a large, velvet-covered chair. Sylas hesitates to sit, unsure of what to expect.
She sits in her chair and retrieves a rolled parchment from a locked wooden box. She places her sword on the table with a resounding thud, revealing its intricate details. The guard of the long, yet thin blade takes the shape of a flying falcon. Eldorian sigils garnish the wings of the bird. "Sky Dancer," Sylas reads quietly.
"More interested in my sword than in what I have to say?" Cassandra teases.
Sylas snaps out of his admiration. "Sorry, Captain. I was just admiring the craftsmanship. The detail on the feathers is exquisite¡ªlike fine jewelry. It doesn¡¯t add any practical advantage, but it certainly exudes prestige."
"Your master forged it for my father when he was just a bit older than you," she says, unrolling the parchment on her desk. "You¡¯re from Elmswood, right? The village attacked by Orcs?"
"Yes," Sylas replies, finally sitting down, momentarily forgetting his earlier anxiety. He glances at the parchment¡ªa letter reporting an Orc horde attacking cities in Caeloria, their northern neighbor.
"By order of the regent, we¡¯re forming units to reinforce our borders in case of an invasion. Elmswood might have been an advanced raiding party," she explains.
"Why are you telling me this?" Sylas asks. "I haven¡¯t heard anything about Caeloria in the streets, so it must be a secret."
"It won¡¯t stay that way for long. Refugees from Caeloria¡¯s southern cities are crossing into our borders," Cassandra says. "Our last war was forty years ago. Our troops have only fought monsters and bandits since."
"I still don¡¯t see why you¡¯re telling me this," Sylas admits.
Cassandra leans back in her chair, her eyes locking onto his. "You¡¯re right. Normally, I wouldn¡¯t share this with a Blacksmith. But you¡¯re more than that."
Sylas shifts uneasily, the knot in his stomach tightening. "I¡¯m just a Blacksmith, Captain."
Cassandra¡¯s lips curl into a faint smile. "You¡¯re modest, but that¡¯s not true. Your skills are exceptional, thanks to your talent. You¡¯re better with a blade than any soldier under my command, and your mastery of Ether rivals mine. You have potential, and we need every capable hand in the days to come."
"Potential for what?" Sylas asks, his heart pounding. He knows the answer but dreads hearing it.
"Your talent is rare. Most who possess it die young. You have the potential to become a hero, someone who could protect this country from threats the common soldier cannot," she says. "The guard needs officers who can inspire others with their strength. And you need training and experience. You could become a legend."
"I¡¯m not that man," Sylas says, immediately regretting the force in his voice. "I¡¯ve never led men in battle. I¡¯ve never even led men in a mine. I¡¯m a blacksmith, not a Warrior. What good would my abilities be on a battlefield?"
"Abilities can be given, experience can be earned, and leadership can be taught. But talents? True talents like yours are rare. We need you to apply it to a greater cause, for which you will be well compensated. Reach the heights of the system, and you¡¯ll be rewarded with ennoblement, lands, and riches beyond what most men can dream of."
Sylas stares at her, his heart pounding, torn between the urge to refuse and the fear of what refusal might bring. He doesn¡¯t want to go to war, doesn¡¯t want to fight. He¡¯s nearly lost his life both times he¡¯s had to fight.
"I don¡¯t need money or land, and certainly not at the cost of my life. I¡¯m happy with my work and my home," Sylas says, standing up, ready to leave. "I¡¯m sorry. I don¡¯t see why you think I could be anything like you imagine. Good day."
"The regent is the one who saw potential in you," Cassandra says, stopping him, her voice turning cold and authoritative. "And he won¡¯t let you waste it in a forge. Under article eight, paragraph five of the Amberfell constitution, the state can enlist anyone deemed necessary for the kingdom¡¯s safety. Refusing this summons is punishable by death. You¡¯re enlisting, whether you like it or not."
Sylas¡¯ breath catches in his throat as Cassandra¡¯s words hang in the air, inescapable. The room seems to close in on him, the weight of the situation pressing down on his shoulders. It feels like a trap he¡¯s walked into willingly.
"But my work at the forge¡ª" he begins, desperation creeping into his voice.
"¡ªwill be taken over by another capable hand," Cassandra interrupts, her tone final. She places another parchment on the desk, a prefilled enlistment form assigning Sylas as a Sergeant. "The regent¡¯s orders are not to be questioned, Sergeant."
Chapter 83: Labyrinth
Russ barks as a rock jolts their Toyota, causing its poor suspension to jostle the vehicle and spill his bowl of shredded beef and barbecue sauce. He lets out a quick squeak before eagerly licking the mess off the trunk bed.
"Glad you¡¯re enjoying it," Ethan remarks, keeping his eyes on the sand-covered road ahead. He takes a bite from his own MRE. "Ten boxes of beef, tortillas, dry bread, and marshmallows. A hundred and twenty identical, tasteless meals. At least we¡¯ve got instant coffee this time, not that awful fruit-flavored powder. I just hope we don¡¯t get stuck in there for too long¡ªI¡¯d rather not eat this for a whole month."
He summons a bottle of water, part of the same bulk purchase from the man who supplied the MREs. The walls of the labyrinth appear in the distance, prompting Ethan to activate his predator''s sight. It is devoid of life and sound.
As they approach, Ethan notices that the sparse vegetation marks a stark boundary. On one side, closest to him, there are living grass and shrubs; on the other stand dried and dying plants. He halts the car and steps outside. A dense, unknown Ether surrounds the labyrinth, its dark green threads seeping into the lifeless plants. Ethan throws the remnants of his bread into the Ether, watching as it withers within seconds, resembling a loaf of bread left for months.
''This seems worse than dark Ether,'' Ethan thinks. ''If I accept the invitation, there''s no guarantee I¡¯ll be teleported into this labyrinth. I could end up back in England¡ªor anywhere else on Earth.''
He peers deeper into the Ether, noting that the wall stops just before the first buildings. Summoning the Abyss watcher''s lantern, he holds it close to the Ether wall. The lantern repels the dark green threads, pushing them back by meters. Russ watches, tilting his head in confusion.
''I''ve already seen demonic and dark Ether... so this must be death Ether,'' Ethan deduces. He dashes along the wall, testing the reaction time of the death Ether to the lantern.
"Only four or five kilometers to go. I just hope the lantern¡¯s battery lasts a few more minutes," Ethan says to Russ as he gets back in the car, placing the lantern on the passenger seat. ''Worst-case scenario, we get stuck in the labyrinth. But I could use the Anchorstone to return to Opal, though finding a way back to Earth will be a pain.''
The wall splits before them, rejoining after the car, behind their dust trail. Soon, they reach the edge of the city. Ethan checks his phone¡ªno signal. The city is silent; not even the wind can be heard.
Russ jumps down from the trunk, sticking close to Ethan¡¯s heel. "I don¡¯t like this place either," Ethan mutters as he unsummons the lantern.
He triggers predator''s sight and moves past the first buildings, entering the maze of alleys and stairs. He guides himself using the satellite picture sent by Tombstone, aiming for the central Ziggurat.
The streets are devoid of life or activity of any form. The houses and other buildings appear several years old, some bearing cracks and loosening bricks.
Ethan explores one of the most prestigious buildings he meets. He finds an imposing statue of a lightly dressed woman. Wings spread from her naked back; her hair is the only thing that covers her chest. Symbols are carved in a gold plate at the base of the statue.
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''Sumerian,'' Ethan realizes. ''But I don''t need to read it to know this is the goddess of love, war, and fertility.''
"Adding the Language (Sumerian) skill. Based on your previous experience a level of 1 has been applied."
"Sure, that will be useful," Ethan mocks. Russ whines, bored out of his mind. Ethan thinks aloud, using Russ as his interlocutor. "Unless the otherworld shares our legends, this place didn''t come from their world but from our past. However, it''s evident that it''s an absurd exaggeration of what Uruk once was."
"Woof," Russ affirms, making Ethan smile.
''I wonder if there are magical items in a place like this. Even Ether crystals would be nice,'' he thinks. Ethan opens himself to the surrounding Ether but doesn''t find anything holding significant power in the vicinity. ''I guess there is nothing to loot here.''
A piercing jet engine sound reaches Ethan''s ears. He looks up as a SU-35 fighter jet approaches, piercing through the Ether wall before nosediving past the city. It crashes behind the other side of the wall in a cloud of fire.
''He must¡¯ve been at least three kilometers up,'' Ethan estimates, trying to gauge how high the Ether wall extends but finding no end to it. ''How high does it go? Are the other labyrinths the same?''
A crow caws from atop a building, startling Ethan. He looks at it, but he does not see its figure or heart in predator''s sight. Focusing on it, he notices that the beast does not even breathe.
Ethan closes his eyes, focusing on the Ether surrounding him and the bird. He notices that the crow is like a doll, sewn with thin threads of Ether, a single thread leading to an unknown part of the city. The bird flies off, soon leaving Ethan''s sight.
''So, there are animals here, but not living ones. Was that someone''s summon?'' Ethan thinks. Russ gets closer, his leg bouncing on and off Ethan''s. His head twitches from one side to the next, his ears flattening backward.
"What is it?" Ethan asks. The ground shakes, as if this place itself were answering his question. A roar reverberates through the air, originating from the Ziggurat. It is a sound more akin to the grinding of colossal gears than that of a beast. The earth trembles harder, cracking the buildings around Ethan.
As fast as the roar appeared, it vanishes, and with it the earthquake it brought. Russ lowers himself to the ground, terrified. Ethan kneels beside him, gently stroking his fur while scanning the surroundings. "Heel," he commands, and Russ regains some composure.
They proceed cautiously until they reach an archway marking the entrance to the palace garden. Once lush with life, the garden now stands as a graveyard of withered plants. Olive, date, pomegranate, apricot, and over fruit trees stretch their gnarled branches above them.
They find the opened part of the U-shaped palace, where massive stairs lead to the black and gold Ziggurat. Ethan''s eyes dart from one side of the palace to the next, searching for any movement or figure.
''We¡¯re exposed on all sides here,'' Ethan thinks.
A dense mist forms, reducing visibility to a few meters. Ethan summons the Anchorstone into his offhand and Phantom Reaver in his right hand. A sudden clatter of hooves echoes behind them, and they turn to face it. Russ growls, ready to lunge at whatever appears from the mist.
An immense body of gleaming metal plates emerges from the garden, a titanic bull whose steps necrose the ground. Its eyes burn with a sickly green glow. Steam hisses from its nostrils, followed by plumes of dark green napalm that crackles through the air like liquid fire. The ground quake as it steps forward, the mechanical grinding of his body echoing in the air.
"Insi¨C" A loud, omnidirectional error sound pierces Ethan''s mind. A red window materializes before him, displaying a brief message:
You haven''t completed the trials of the Labyrinth of Death. You are not yet worthy of facing its lord.
Light engulfs Ethan¡¯s vision as the ground vanishes beneath his feet. Darkness envelops him, but in his enhanced sight, Ethan sees Russ falling beside him. Grabbing Russ by the collar, Ethan pulls him into his arms, twisting mid-air to ensure his feet will hit the ground first.
Sylas – Chapter 2: Troops
Sylas stands in the shadows of the garrison, watching as young soldiers form three groups of nine in the center of the yard. His heart pounds, and a knot of anxiety tightens in his stomach at the thought of meeting them. Beside him, Captain Cassandra Emberlain sips from a steaming cup while her eyes scan a parchment.
"What¡¯s that? It smells nice," Sylas asks, his curiosity piqued.
"This?" Cassandra replies without lifting her gaze. "It¡¯s coffee. Made from roasted and ground beans. Keeps you awake, and soon enough, you''ll probably be hooked on it."
As three men emerge from the barracks to join the formations, they bark orders at the recruits, adjusting their stances with precision. Each young soldier clutches a spear and a kite shield, their bodies clad in gambesons and helmets that cover their heads, cheeks, and noses. The men shouting instructions wear more elaborate armor: chest plates and chainmail over their gambesons, with iron greaves on their legs and short swords at their belts.
"Those are your Corporals," Cassandra explains, her voice steady. "They''ll manage the troops on the battlefield and handle their daily duties. The Men-at-arms should report to them first and only come to you when absolutely necessary."
Sylas glances down at himself, feeling out of place with just a longsword at his hip. Unlike the others, his armor includes thick leather shoulder pads, gauntlets, a brassard, and cuisses. A blue cape, embroidered with his rank¡ªa sea serpent above three golden Vs¡ªdrapes over his shoulders.
"I still think I should be properly trained before taking command of any troops," Sylas confesses, unease creeping into his voice. "Wouldn¡¯t that be better?"
Cassandra finishes her cup, her expression unchanging. "Experience is the best teacher. Besides, you won¡¯t be alone. Another Sergeant will shadow you to make sure you¡¯re properly trained."
"And who will that be?" Sylas asks.
"Hi," a voice chimes in, startling Sylas. He turns to see a young woman with golden hair cascading down her shoulders, her blue eyes sparkling with a mix of confidence and mischief. She extends her hand. "I''m Liliana Eirlys, pleased to meet you."
Sylas blinks, momentarily caught off guard by her striking appearance. Her leather armor accentuates her athletic build. The blue cape on her shoulders adds a touch of elegance to her otherwise practical attire.
He hesitates, then takes her hand, his grip firm but slightly trembling. Cassandra¡¯s subtle smile doesn¡¯t escape his notice before she returns to her neutral demeanor. "Pleased to meet you as well, Sergeant Eirlys," he stammers, trying to keep his voice steady.
"Liliana¡¯s fine," she says with a light laugh. "We¡¯re equals, after all."
Sylas nods, his heart still racing. He swallows hard, searching for his voice amidst the swirl of emotions in his mind. "Liliana it is, then," he manages, trying to keep a manly voice.
"Don¡¯t worry," Cassandra adds with a teasing tone. "Liliana¡¯s one of our best. Trained since childhood to lead troops and fight alongside them. You¡¯re in good hands."
Liliana gives a modest shrug, but pride flickers in her eyes. "I''ve been through my share of dungeons and fights," she admits, her gaze shifting to the soldiers in the yard. "But I''m here to help you. We¡¯ll get you up to speed in no time."
Sylas takes a deep breath, straightening his posture. "I¡¯m just a Blacksmith," he confesses, his stomach twisting with the fear that his honesty might be met with disdain.
"I know," Liliana replies with a reassuring smile. "I¡¯m not a Warrior or anything of the sort either. Don¡¯t doubt yourself¡ªabilities can be bought."
Relief washes over Sylas though his heart continues to race. Cassandra hands him another parchment, detailing the names and roles of the soldiers assembled before him.
As Liliana steps forward, her smile fades into a serious expression. The soldiers straighten, a hush falling over the yard. Cassandra nudges Sylas forward, and he moves to stand beside Liliana. He feels the weight of the soldiers'' stares, assessing him with a mix of skepticism and curiosity. Sylas can¡¯t shake the feeling that he doesn¡¯t belong here, that he¡¯s an outsider in this world.
Liliana¡¯s voice rings out, commanding the soldiers'' attention. "Listen up!" she calls, her tone sharp and authoritative. The soldiers snap to attention. "This is Sergeant Hartwell. You will respect him as you respect me! I trust you all understand the consequences of disobeying one of us."
Sylas exhales a breath he didn¡¯t realize he was holding, feeling the knot in his stomach loosen slightly. He forces himself to meet the soldiers'' eyes. They no longer glare at him with disdain but look ahead, waiting for orders.
"Adding the Leadership skill. Based on your previous experience a level of 0 has been applied," the system announces. Sylas restrains a smile as he realizes every soldier before him must have a higher leadership level than him. "Leadership leveled up."
Sylas stands there, still grappling with the reality of his new role. A mix of relief and amusement fills his mind as the system''s announcements echo in his mind.
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Liliana glances at him, offering a subtle nod of encouragement. Sylas turns to the soldiers. "I¡¯m not here to tell you how to do your jobs," he begins, his voice steady despite the turmoil inside. "I¡¯m here to learn from you, and I hope we can benefit from each other''s skills."
A tense silence follows, stretching out painfully long. Sylas¡¯ heart pounds, his vision blurring at the edges as he waits for a response.
Finally, one of the corporals, a tall man with a scar running down his cheek, chuckles. He locks eyes with Sylas, and for a moment, Sylas fears the worst.
The corporal nods. "Understood, Sergeant," he says, his voice rough but respectful. The other soldiers nod in agreement.
"Leadership leveled up, Leadership leveled up, Leadership leveled up, Leadership leveled up," the system announces.
"All right, let''s not waste any more time," Liliana commands, her voice strong. "Sergeant Hartwell and I will be joining today''s training. I expect nothing less than your best!"
The soldiers respond with a unified shout, their voices echoing off the garrison walls. As the drills begin, Sylas stays close to Liliana, closely observing her movements and commands. Despite his unease, he can¡¯t help but admire her commanding presence.
"Leadership leveled up (x5), Melee Weapon (Spear) leveled up (x10), Shield (Kite) leveled up (x10)," the system announces as the training progresses. Sylas surprises himself with his stamina, barely winded while the soldiers around him pant heavily. While he didn''t have to use Endurance, some are collapsing from exhaustion.
"In formation!" Liliana orders. The soldiers scramble to their feet and reform into their three groups. "Tonight, say your goodbyes. Tomorrow, we march north to Alderwood Grove, where you¡¯ll complete your training and serve your people."
Sylas feels a sharp pang in his chest at her words. As he looks over the soldiers, he notices their determination, though one face stands out, etched with stress and worry. The familiar burn of anxiety resurfaces in Sylas'' stomach, his hands trembling slightly at his sides.
"Dismissed!" Liliana commands. The soldiers disperse, some heading to the barracks, others leaving the garrison. She approaches Sylas with a smirk. "Don¡¯t be late tomorrow, or I¡¯ll drag you out of your home myself."
As Liliana exits the garrison, Sylas stays rooted in place, absorbing the gravity of her words. The realization that she sent him into danger in a single sentence dawns on him. After a moment, he shakes off the lingering dread and heads back home.
As the sun sinks below the horizon, Sylas hears a knock at his door. He lives in a modest apartment above the forge, a space rented to him by Edgar. When he opens the door, Edgar stands there with a basket in hand. "Please, come in," Sylas invites him.
"You probably aren''t in the mood to celebrate tonight, but I thought you''d still appreciate a good meal," Edgar says, stepping inside. His basket is filled with a bottle of wine, fresh salmon, potatoes, herbs, and butter. He hangs his coat on a nearby hook and sets the basket on the kitchen counter. "I''m sorry for what you''re going through."
"How did you find out?" Sylas asks, adding logs, sticks, and dry moss to his furnace before striking a flame. "I''ve been thinking all afternoon, and I suppose it was inevitable. From the moment I set foot in this city, I exposed myself to those people."
"I still have friends in the guard," Edgar replies, taking out a knife to scale the salmon. "Could you cut the potatoes into small chunks?"
Sylas peels the potatoes effortlessly before chopping them into cubes. Edgar gestures toward the herbs, and Sylas season the potatoes with crushed, fresh peppercorns, mustard, and garlic.
Edgar sets two cast iron pans on the furnace, throwing in unhealthily large chunks of butter. Sylas chuckles at the sight before adding the potatoes to one pan as Edgar lays the salmon in the other. The rich aroma soon wafts through the air, drawing curious sniffs from passersby outside Sylas'' windows. They set the table with plates, cutlery, and glasses before Edgar pours them both a generous glass of wine.
"I¡¯ve been drafted myself," Edgar begins, causing Sylas'' heart to skip a beat as he wonders if it happened today. "It was four decades ago, and I was only a little older than you."
"That would make you nearly sixty, yet you look like you''re in your thirties. Not exactly on the brink of death," Sylas remarks, flipping the salmon. "Sorry, I didn¡¯t mean to be rude."
Edgar chuckles. "Oh, I don¡¯t have long left; that¡¯s true. I already have great-grandchildren," he jests. "My service lasted a year, and though I was mostly in the rear, repairing their broken gear, I saw things that still haunt me."
"I¡¯d rather you lied to me," Sylas admits, his heart sinking as he stirs the potatoes, ensuring each piece turns to the unfried side.
Edgar sighs heavily. "I wish I could, Sylas. But the truth is, war changes a man. It takes something from you that you can never quite get back."
Sylas glances at Edgar, noticing the shadows under his eyes. "I¡¯m not strong enough for this. I¡¯ll probably freeze again the moment an enemy charges at me¡ªit¡¯s happened before. When I saw the eagerness of the kids they assigned me, I couldn¡¯t understand it. How can anyone be happy at the thought of walking to their doom?"
"I was like them once," Edgar says softly. "They grow up hearing stories of great heroes and dream of becoming one themselves. I guess you never heard those stories, given your circumstances."
"No, I didn¡¯t," Sylas replies as he dresses the food onto their plates.
"Alchemy (Cooking) leveled up," the system announces as they sit. They eat in silence, the meal melting on their tongues, the white wine enhancing each bite.
"You haven¡¯t forged yourself any gear," Edgar observes as he finishes his plate. He nods at the sword resting against one of the walls. "That sword is standard issue for the guard; it won¡¯t suit you."
"It¡¯s not like I can just swap my equipment," Sylas replies, polishing off the last of his salmon.
"You can," Edgar counters, locking eyes with Sylas. "They call it personal additions. As long as it¡¯s your own, you can use it¡ªunless a commanding officer says otherwise. It was common in my time, and today, no noble would send their sons out in standard gear."
"If I had known, I would¡¯ve made this armor heavier. I need a thicker chest plate, a helmet with a visor, and all the leather parts should be replaced with iron. As for my weapon, it should be heavier. And if I had the money for pure Ether crystals, I¡¯d enchant it well."
"Get some rest tonight," Edgar advises as he carries the plates to a bucket of dirty dishes. "You¡¯ll need your strength for the days ahead¡ªthe Alderwood Grove is quite a journey." The mention of his destination surprises Sylas, as Edgar shouldn¡¯t have known. Edgar retrieves his coat and heads to the door. "But if you can¡¯t sleep, I suggest you work on that sword."
"Good night, and thank you for the meal," Sylas says as Edgar closes the door behind him. He sighs at the sight of the dirty dishes, muttering to himself, "If I don¡¯t clean this now, it¡¯ll turn into a monster by the time I get back¡ if I return."
Chapter 84: Gate
Cold. Ethan collides with raging waters that rush them down a turbulent descent. He holds onto Russ as the icy waters engulf them, the force of the current threatening to pull them apart. Ethan fights to keep them afloat, kicking against the relentless current. They are pulled under, the sound of rushing water filling Ethan''s ears. Russ yelps, releasing air bubbles in panic.
The current shifts, and they are propelled upward, breaking through the surface and gasping for air. The waters turn still, and Ethan sees the green glow of fires in the distance. Figures and human hearts appear next to the lights. He places Russ on his back and swims towards them.
"Adding the Swimming skill. Based on your previous experience, a level of 40 has been applied."
Ethan reaches the edge of a natural rock platform and lifts both of them onto it. His clothes and Russ'' fur dry the moment they leave the water. He checks Russ for cuts or gashes, fearing that rocks may have harmed him, but finds none.
Twenty men and women turn their gazes towards them, seated along cavernous walls. They seem to come from all around the world, but they all share a sunken look of dehydration.
''I guess drinking that water is out of the question,'' Ethan thinks. A large vertical slit in the furthest wall lets vast quantities of Ether seep through. They stare them down as Ethan and Russ walk towards the end of the platform.
One of them shivers and sweats profusely. He is better hydrated than the others, but his eyes bear dark circles. His heart beats fast, and he''s losing blood from a bullet wound in the forearm.
''Who in his right mind would come here wounded?'' Ethan asks himself. A doubt crosses his mind. ''Did he come here to escape whoever was hunting him? They eye him as much as they eye us, but with fear instead of curiosity.''
Ethan closes his eyes and senses Aetherian sigils filled with Ether carved on the man¡¯s back. They slowly release threads into his body, like the tendrils of jellyfish. This isn¡¯t anything he imagined finding. How did that man find himself carved with that godly language? His heart holds little Ether, as does that of each of the people present here; he couldn¡¯t be strong.
''I cannot read that aloud; a single word emptied my Ether last time,'' Ethan thinks. ''By the blood that was spilled and the life that was taken, the hideousness of your soul shall be brought forth. Flesh will twist, bones will break, and your true form shall¨C''
The sigils propel threads into his body, wrapping them around his spine and organs. He bends forward and claws at the stone ground as his face contorts in pain. His bones elongate and snap into new positions, each with a sickening and resounding crack. His skin stretches and tears, giving way to fur that sprouts on his back, chest, and arms. His fingers elongate into sharp, wicked talons that scrape gouges into the floor. His teeth sharpen, his jaw extends, and his ears shift, elongating into pointed tips.
Russ grows and growls, placing himself between Ethan and the man, now half-man, half-werewolf. The spectators stare in horror, shrinking back against the walls or frozen in place. The once-man''s bloodshot eyes shift between Ethan, Russ, and the helpless spectators.
He lunges, not at Russ, who stands the closest, but towards a woman frozen by fear. Ethan lifts his hand and shoots dark tendrils at him, bringing him to the ground as a debilitating hex paralyzes him. The woman screams as his body grinds to a halt.
''Is it my fault? Did he transform because I read the mark?'' Ethan ponders. ''Insight.''
Alejandro Torres
Lv.1/1 (Villager) Lichor (Human)
Lv.3/20 (Wolf)
Strength: 10 Charisma: 11
Dexterity: 8 Perception: 11
Constitution: 10 Willpower: 13
Intelligence: 8
Titles
Kin slayer
Abilities
Fury (F)
Alteration
Curse of monstrosity (Major)
''He isn''t human anymore,'' Ethan notices. He approaches the paralyzed half-beast, scanning him from afar. His eyes and face scream hunger, his gaze focused on the woman before him. ''Should I kill him so he can''t attack anyone else? Or is there a chance for him to regain control?''
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A gunshot cuts off Ethan''s thoughts; he reflexively raises his hand to protect his face, even though he would have been too late. A man shot the beast in the head; he holds his smoking handgun with shaking hands. His head twitches as he looks up, as if surprised by the system.
"What did it say?" Ethan asks. He approaches the man and pries the pistol from his weak grip before placing it on the ground. The man is wearing plain clothes, but Ethan spots a badge clipped to his belt, hidden under his vest.
"I don''t speak English," the man says in German as Ethan stares him down. Ethan reiterates his question in the man''s tongue. He answers, "It told me that I needed to kill four more wolves to be rewarded."
''When this becomes known and when images of them start to circulate, it will turn into a witch hunt,'' Ethan foretells. He moves away from the German policeman and toward the center of the room.
"I''m looking for a blond, muscular man that looks like this," Ethan says loudly, showing a headshot of the portrait on his phone. "Has anyone seen him?"
"I did," a particularly dehydrated woman says. "He was here fifteen hours ago; he was the first to pass the Cerberus."
The mention of the mythological beast surprises Ethan, but he quickly reminds himself that he just crossed a river that could be the Styx. He moves toward her, changing his demeanor to feigned empathic friendliness.
"Did he say anything?" Ethan asks. He looks behind the slit, seeing nothing but a cavern. "And did anyone else pass the¡ Cerberus?"
"He didn''t even look at us," she answers. Her stomach growls. "He passed without speaking a word; he didn''t glance at any of us and walked straight through the crack. I''ve seen twenty-eight people try, but only ten of them succeeded."
"Thank you." Ethan places his right hand to summon an MRE and a water bottle before her but refrains from it. They would steal them from her, like hungry animals. He could summon a pair for each of them, but if he doesn¡¯t watch them, they would fight all the same; he is sure of it. At most, they have been here for less than a day; they can hold until properly prepared soldiers appear. They will share their rations with them and keep the situation under control.
He stands up and moves toward the large slit in the wall. The Ether it lets through is dense, enough to wound someone who doesn¡¯t control his own at all. Russ walks through, unharmed as the Ether he holds repels the threads surrounding him. Ethan follows, tutting at Russ as he shouldn''t cross doorways first.
The cavern before them resembles the one they passed, carved by nature in rocks. A large black door sits open at the end of the room, leading to descending stairs.
Something growls in a shadowed corner of the cavern; the sound comes in three canonic iterations. A three-headed mastiff, devoid of presence in predator''s sight, emerges from it and jumps in front of the door. Chains link spiked collars to the spot where it was; they rattle on the ground as it barks at Ethan and Russ. Spikes made of bone jut out of its legs. Its tail snaps at them as Ethan realizes that it turns into the body and head of a snake.
Errant souls appear next to it from piles of bones scattered on the ground. It barks and snaps its maws, dark green flames appearing in one of them, drooling onto the ground.
Ethan senses the Ether and sees that, contrary to the crow, it is a real creature. Yet, it holds little Ether, less than half of what Russ controls. "Cancel Predator''s sight, Prescience, Insight," he mutters.
Cerberus
Lv.20/20 (Death hound) Death hound
Lv.1/20 (Cerberus)
Strength: 20 Charisma: 1
Dexterity: 17 Perception: 25
Constitution: 16 Willpower: 13
Intelligence: 5
Abilities
Aura of dread (D)
Death breath (F)
Territory (D)
Shadows'' embrace (D)
Alteration
Servant of the Labyrinth of Death
''He''s... weak. Aura of dread will be a problem, and I have no idea what Territory and Shadows'' Embrace do. But with sixteen in constitution and no protection-focused abilities, he shouldn''t be too hard to wound with a gun. And what abilities make him immune to predator''s sight if he doesn''t have nullified presence?'' Ethan thinks.
Russ grows larger than the Cerberus; he barks with a force that resonates in the cavern. The beast takes a step back, its three heads barking at Russ. Russ lowers himself and moves towards the Cerberus. Ethan doesn''t say or voice anything in his mind as the scene is reminiscent of Russ meeting other large dogs.
Russ stops a meter away from the Cerberus, staring him in the eyes. They fall silent, both bending lower, readying themselves to lunge forward. Russ bends his front legs, hitting the ground with his chest; the Cerberus imitates the playful bow.
Russ bolts off, and the creature runs after him, its tongues dangling from its mouths. Ethan chuckles loudly, the sound attracting spectators at the edge of the slit. They stare at the two beasts in complete disbelief as they roll on the ground to make each other fall.
After a few minutes, the Cerberus stops chasing Russ, panting loudly. He lies down on his side, his maws drooling profusely. "More French bulldog than Cerberus," Ethan quips as he walks to the door.
Russ bends his front paws and lets out sharp, playful barks towards his new friend, calling him to continue their game. ''Russ, heel,'' Ethan mentally orders; Russ rushes to his side, returning to his normal size. They descend the stairs, leaving the mastiff panting on the ground.
''I entered the city of Uruk, and yet, even though the Styx has roots in Mesopotamian mythology, the Cerberus doesn''t belong to it. I wonder if those who can''t pass the Ether are a reference to the souls who could only eat dry dust,'' Ethan thinks.
"You completed your first trial of the Labyrinth of Death, the Gate of Cerberus," the system says.
''My first trial. Gate¡,'' Ethan repeats in his mind, thinking of his past teachings. ''Several mythologies had multiple entrances to the underworld, some that were the entry points for the dead, and some used by living beings. I could find more people than she saw down there.''
Sylas – Chapter 3: Creation
Sylas lies awake in bed, his eyes stinging as they flutter open. The pale lights of the moons stream through the small window above him. His hand trembles slightly as he brushes it over his face.
His gaze settles on the sword placed against the wall. "I can''t sleep anyway," he mutters. He sits up, throws on his pants and shirt, and makes his way to the door where his boots await. As his eyes adjust to the darkness, he slips down the stairs. The streets outside are deserted, bathed in the silver and white hues of moonlights.
Sylas pushes open the backdoor of the smithy, igniting a lantern. He feeds the furnaces with coal, coke, and fire Ether crystals. One by one, he ignites them, and the room floods with heat and light, burning his tired eyes.
He inhales deeply, drawing in Ether as he surveys the ores stored in the smithy. Three large wooden crates hold iron ores, meticulously sorted by their Ether contents. Above them, small chests house rarer ores: bright steel, spark steel, ember steel, and the wyrdium he recently brought back.
Doubt gnaws at him as his hand hovers over the ores. Should he risk the Ether-dense iron, knowing he could waste it like this morning?
His eyes catch on a book and a small chest lying on his workbench, with a note resting on top. "I was planning on gifting you these for your birthday, but I think it¡¯s better you have them now. The book belonged to my master and his master before him. I will soon retire, and I hope you''ll pursue our craft to its greatest heights. Perhaps one day you¡¯ll add to it and pass it on to a worthy successor. Edgar." Sylas'' chest swells with pride at Edgar''s words.
He opens the thick, leather-bound book. Its sturdy pages hold drawings of weapons and knowledge about ores and techniques. Some pages are newer; others bear annotations correcting flawed information.
Sylas grabs a stool and sits at his workbench, finding a bookmark placed within the book. The marked pages describe a technique of layering different materials to mix their unique properties. It could create a blade capable of channeling multiple Ether affinities.
"I only have time to craft one blade. Might as well take the risk," he mutters. His hand hovers the small chest Edgar left. He lifts the lid, finding two perfectly square-cut, pure Ether crystals. Their energy twists the surrounding threads, emitting an aura stronger than anything Sylas has felt before. He shuts the lid, silencing their overwhelming presence.
"I guess I have no choice but to honor your wish," he whispers, carefully moving the crystals, book, and letter to the edge of his workbench. He selects the densest pieces of iron and the purest wyrdium. The wyrdium will enhance any unnatural Ether, making the sword adaptable to whatever abilities Sylas may acquire. The iron will ensure a sturdy blade, capable of withstanding even the strongest blows.
He begins heating the ores in separate spots of the furnace, the fire Ether crystals intensifying the heat. Uncovering a cracked wind Ether crystal, he directs it into the furnace, pushing the temperature to unbearable heights. "Heat resistance," he mutters, shielding himself from it.
Before the ores begin to melt, which would cause the Ether to leak away, he moves the wind Ether crystal, controlling the temperature. He picks up a piece of red-hot ore and places it on his anvil. Using Strengthening, he hammers it, crushing and folding the material until the impurities fall away. One by one, he refines each chunk into thin, rectangular plates.
Once all the plates are heated again, Sylas stacks them, alternating layers of wyrdium and iron. He hammers the stack into a sword billet, then folds it onto itself, doubling the number of layers. Hours blur together in a haze of heat and sweat as he repeats the process until he reaches the tenth fold. The wyrdium''s hue is now nearly indistinguishable from that of the iron.
As the billet reaches a bright, almost white-hot glow, Sylas pulls it from the forge and lays it before him. With a shout, he brings his hammer down with all his might, striking the metal. Sparks fly in every direction. Again and again, he pounds the billet, shaping it and forcing it to bend to his will. Each blow serves as an outlet for the frustration and fury that have been building inside him since he was conscripted.
Yet with each hammer stroke, a gnawing fear creeps into Sylas'' mind. He dreads the thought of this blade, crafted by his own hand, being wielded to arm innocents, or worse, to take their lives. The notion that this weapon, born from his labor, might fall into wicked hands churns his stomach. It might be true of all the weapons he has crafted, but this one will be his strongest creation yet.
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Sweat pours down his face, sizzling as it hits the blade. As it takes shape, Sylas channels the Ether within the metal towards the edges, not by will but in response to his turbulent emotions. Gradually, his mind clears, the anger, stress, and fear subsiding. He holds the sword up, inspecting his work. It is wider, thicker, and heavier than a typical long sword, yet it feels light in his hand.
He brings it to the grindstone, refining the edges with a strength that eats away at the stone with each passing minute. When he lifts the blade from the tool, it reveals swirling patterns of green and grey, prominent along the edges and in the fullers.
He returns the blade to the furnace. Sylas checks the book, adjusting the wind Ether crystal to achieve the perfect temperature for high tempering.
He then forms a guard from Ether-dense ore, shaping it into flat spikes with central square sockets. He carefully fits the tang of the blade, repeating the process for the pommel, which he molds into a beveled diamond shape. He uses a die to thread the tang, ensuring the pommel aligns perfectly with the blade.
From a log of ironwood ¡ª a dense wood that sinks in water ¡ª Sylas carves a handle, shaping it into a slight oval to guide the grip. He wraps the handle in blueish leather, harvested from a small hydra, securing it with glue after testing the fit.
Finally, Sylas dips the red-hot blade into an oil bath. He pulls it out, checking for any warping and preparing to correct it with a bench vice if needed. None appears. He smiles, satisfied as the blade''s patterns cast a greenish glow across the forge.
Assembling the final pieces, Sylas places the sword on his workbench, using supports to level it. He sets the Ether crystals into the guard''s sockets, carefully folding the metal edges to hold them in place.
With a deep breath, Sylas dreads the next moment where the system will judge his work. "Enchanting," he whispers, and a gray window appears above the blade.
Enchanting
This blade can hold three enchantments: two C-ranked enchantments and one B-ranked enchantment.
Speak the names of the enchantments you want to bestow upon the blade, in ascending order of ranks. Enchantments may fail if attributed to slots of insufficient rank.
This blade, made in disdain of authority, in want of freedom, and in the need for innocence, yearns for the [Righteous] enchantment.
The quality of an item, regardless of the Ether its materials hold, is the main component of the enchantment rank it can bear. Sylas feels a swell of pride as he gazes at the B-ranked slot, knowing it''s a testament to his craftsmanship. Moreover, the blade is so well-forged that it can accommodate two crystals¡ªa rarity, as per his teachings.
"This is the first time I''ve seen a message about a blade requesting an enchantment," Sylas murmurs. "Cancel," he quickly decides, not wanting to inscribe the blade after toughening it. He turns back to the book in search of a section on enchantments.
"Besides the basics Edgar already mentioned, there¡¯s not much here," Sylas mutters, his eyes scanning the remaining pages. "It seems Edgar¡¯s predecessors weren¡¯t particularly versed in this domain. Maybe I could learn by examining weapons and armor I come across. An elemental enchantment would be a safe choice, but it feels like such a waste."
Taking a deep breath, Sylas picks up a hammer and chisel knife, his hands momentarily pausing in hesitation. The uncertainty of which enchantment to choose¡ªand by extension, what name to bestow upon the blade¡ªweighs on him. Finally, he carves sigils into both sides of the blade, filling them with golden threads. "Righteous Edge," Sylas reads aloud, holding the blade before him.
"Enchanting," he commands, bringing the window back into view. "Sharpness, durability, righteous."
The crystals dim and transform into iron, their Ether flowing into the sword. A soft white light radiates from the blade, which now emits a faint whistle, like the whisper of wind through the air¡ªa pure note underscored by a gentle hum.
"You leveled up. Crafting (Jewelry) leveled up (x5)," the system announces. Sylas smirks; despite the prettiness of golden sigils, it hardly seems like jewelry work.
"Identification," Sylas commands.
Righteous Edge
This long sword can only be wielded by those of pure intentions, those who uphold honor and righteousness. When wielded by a paragon of these virtues, it will reveal its true power.
The blade, forged partially from wyrdium, amplifies all unnatural Ethers. Ether infuses the blade, enhancing its durability and edge.
This weapon has been enchanted with [Sharpness (C)], [Durability (C)], and [Righteous (A)].
"It... evolved," Sylas stammers, reading the description again with a soft smile. "I suppose one day, someone truly worthy will wield you. I''ll be long gone by then."
Despite the fatigue, he reaches for a sheet of paper from Edgar''s drafting board. With a writing quill, he carefully sketches his creation, documenting every step and its enchantments. Exhaustion overtakes him. He drifts into a deep sleep, the wooden chair beneath him somehow becoming remarkably comfortable.
Chapter 85: Desolate lands
The long stairs open onto a vast cavern lit by distant green flames. Dark clouds cover the ceiling, giving the impression that a sky lies behind them. Russ prances on the now flat ground, happy that the torturous descent is over.
Bones crack next to them, and they turn to see a dried corpse tearing itself out of black, withered vines. It stands, a rusted short sword in hand. It bears ragged armor that might have once been padded leather. An iron helmet rests on its head, with goat horns sprouting from the sides.
''A Draugr,'' Ethan realizes as he recalls bedtime stories. His confusion about the labyrinth grows. ''A Nordic monster, in a place guarded by a Cerberus, under a Sumerian city. How many mythologies is this place inspired by?''
The monster lunges at Ethan with surprising technique, but it is slow. Ethan sidesteps the attack and beheads it as he summons Phantom Reaver. As he would for a skeleton, Ethan crushes the Draugr''s withered head under his boot.
The body turns into a coal-like dust that seeps into the ground. Ethan thinks for a moment. ''What if I encounter creatures like Lucifer, or the Leviathan? They have to be stronger than the Bull of Heaven we saw in Uruk.''
Ethan glances in the distance, discerning the corners of a vast castle piercing the clouds. He ponders silently for a moment, wondering if this place''s dangers outweigh his need to talk to Christopher Hayes. He shakes off the ridiculous concern. ''He stayed on Earth for a reason, and that reason may be to come here the moment it appeared. He could vanish to the other side once he''s done here, and I''ll lose him again.''
A figure appears in Ethan''s predator''s sight, far away in the heart of this strange land. He focuses on it, magnifying its presence until he discerns the shape of a man. His heart beats frenetically as the man walks hunched, grabbing a rocky fa?ade with his left hand to stop himself from falling. His head twitches to watch behind him, and he shoots a handgun at the air, yelling, "Leave me alone!"
Ethan focuses on the man''s surroundings but sees nothing and hears no sound. He guesses, ''He must be hallucinating. That''d make sense if he''s as dehydrated as the ones above.''
Then, as suddenly as it appeared in Ethan''s sight, the figure vanishes. ''Is he dead?'' Ethan ponders, looking in his direction. He doesn''t find him; worse, he doesn''t find the wall of rocks he was leaning on.
''What a strange place,'' Ethan thinks. He surprises himself with his lack of reaction. An entire spot vanishing without warning should be worrying, yet it doesn''t faze him at all. ''I guess I''m already adapted to these strange situations.''
He walks to the edge of the small cliff they are on, finding a natural staircase. It descends into a valley of rocky paths covered in withered vines, holding sleeping Draugrs.
A few ruins stand in the distance¡ªa Greek temple, a cemetery, a European church, and others farther away. Ethan chooses the temple as a landmark to gauge the distance he will travel.
Large, sharp rocks line the valley they tread, creating diverging pathways that open into clearings. Pools of water and faint streams appear here and there, but just as before, the water they hold won''t leave them. Ethan tries to sample it with an empty bottle, but the water vanishes inexplicably as he lifts the bottle.
Braziers holding green flames illuminate the place. Their low altitude creates elongating shadows and dark corners. Death Ether feeds them, coming from underground and traveling through their stone bases.
Human sounds reach Ethan''s ears as they walk. He perceives gunshots, both of low and high caliber, and clashes of medieval weapons. Cries and pleas for help mix with the fights, people living their last moments at the hands of Draugrs or other humans. ''I shouldn''t make too much noise; I don''t need to attract attention to us.''
The Draugrs seem to wake only if disturbed by touch or noise. With Russ being naturally stealthy, Ethan takes care not to step on vines, leaving most of the creatures where they slumber. The thought of killing them all to level up crosses his mind, but he''d rather spare his strength in this unknown place.
After hours of walking, Ethan doesn''t feel any closer to the castle. Russ strolls behind him, following Ethan through smell as he sniffs everything around. Time after time, Russ suddenly looks up, glancing everywhere until he finds Ethan, as if he had lost his trail.
''That doesn''t usually happen this often,'' Ethan thinks. He looks around, confirming the positions of the landmarks he used since entering here. He has created a distance from the entrance stairs that corresponds to the hours he walked, and the Greek temple seems to be close enough too. ''If I can''t get closer to the castle, I should at least explore that building.''
They make their way to the ruins. Its dark stone pillars are cracked in so many spots that they seem a whoosh away from crumbling. A paved space lies between them and the temple, with a stone coffin at its center, covered in Nordic runes.
They enter through the temple''s large, open gates. Its statues, covered in withered vines, lurch above them. They represent a muscular man with prolific hair and beard, dressed in a toga. He carries a scepter crowned by two spikes. ''Hades,'' Ethan remembers.
A cold fireplace lies before the main altar, surrounded by modern junk. Ethan scans the empty packets of chips and protein bars. He spots two sets of imprints in the dust, one belonging to an overweight individual and the other to a thinner one. Shifting his gaze to the side, he sees dry blood on the floor.
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''Those drops come from someone who''s been hit with a bludgeoning weapon, probably on the head,'' Ethan thinks as he examines the blood. He traces it as its owner stumbled and then got carried to the altar. The altar itself doesn''t hold any blood, but its dust reveals that something humanoid was dragged onto it. The way they were removed left no mark, making Ethan ponder if the person teleported away.
"Welcome, ¡ welcome, ¡ welcome," an ominous voice says in gradually silencing whispers. Each repetition seems to come from another corner of the temple. "Welcome to a house of the lord of the underworld."
Nothing appears in Predator''s sight, nor in Prescience. Russ looks around, equally oblivious to the presence''s location. "So, Hades is the lord of this place. It could have been Lucifer, Hel, Donn, Anubis, or even Mictlantecuhtli; why him?" Ethan''s question isn''t aimed at earning him a truthful answer, but to gauge the entity''s knowledge.
"One and the same," it whispers. A wind whooshes across the temple. "I come bearing an offer. ¡ Bring a human sacrifice to the altar, and you shall be granted access to the castle of the lord; they are waiting."
"You made the same offer to the one who was here before me," Ethan mutters. How desperate or mad were they to accept this bargain? Ethan focuses on the Ether, trying to sense any anomaly in it. Something flies fast, pushing away the threads in its path.
Ethan bursts forward, summoning Phantom Reaver at the end of his extended arm. It pierces flesh and then stone as Ethan pins what lies invisible to a wall. A scream, like that of damned souls, echoes in the temple, shaking the dust off its stones.
Silence follows, yet Ethan can sense it squirming on his blade. He unleashes a debilitating hex, and the pointless struggle of the creature ceases. "Now that we''ve established your ability to feel pain, I have questions for you."
"Intimidation leveled up," the system announces. Its voice is followed by the dry roars of Draugrs outside the temple.
"If I can''t use you, I''ll at least enjoy seeing you torn apart," the creature coughs. Black ooze forms along Phantom Reaver, dripping off it in dark drops.
''Insight,'' Ethan thinks, sensing that the Draugrs are not at the doors yet. A window appears, showing nothing but a gray background. ''It must be using Anonymity.''
A first Draugr crosses the gates, throwing a spear at Ethan. He spins, grabbing it mid-flight while letting go of his blade, and throws it back at its owner. The projectile splits the air with a whistle and turns its ribcage to dust. Five others rush in, charging with their shields.
''Missile,'' Ethan thinks. Russ jumps, growing mid-air, before slamming his paws onto the shield wall. The Draugrs clatter to the ground, unable to stand before Ethan covers them in fire. ''Heel.''
Russ rushes back to Ethan''s side, growling at the creature still pinned to the wall. It tries to dislodge the blade now that Ethan has canceled his hex to cast Flame. It mutters, "You are tougher than you look. But I doubt you will send this one to the grave as easily as the others."
Ethan restores his hex, not wanting the creature to escape.
A Draugr clad in rusted laminar and mail armor steps inside. Its eyes glow with Ether from behind its helmet, and its presence makes itself known by shaking the threads. It hefts its two-handed axe, lunging at Ethan. The blade of its weapon covers itself in frost, chilling the air in the temple.
''Strengthening,'' Ethan thinks. He bursts at the Draugr, placing himself behind its reach before it can swing. He punches the creature in the chest, collapsing the structure of its armor. It flies through the temple''s front wall, its axe''s head freezing the ground as it skids on it.
The Draugr stands, its left arm falling off its body. It drags its axe with its remaining hand, rushing at Ethan. Ethan summons Skysong and throws it at the creature, piercing the base of its neck. The metallic spear''s weight and energy throw the Draugr on its back. Ethan steps on its chest, grabs its axe, and hurls it into the Draugr''s skull.
"You leveled up. Melee Weapon (Long Sword) leveled up. Melee Weapon (Spear) leveled up (x3). Unarmed combat leveled up. Adding the Melee Weapon (Great axe) skill. Based on your previous experience a level of 21 has been applied," the system announces. The glowing eyes of the Draugr dim as its Ether escapes into the air. Its body turns to dust, leaving its armor and axe.
Ethan grabs the weapon, peering into its Ether. It seems of poor quality, damaged by time, and holds no noticeable Ether. ''The ice must have come from the Draugr.''
As the dust vanishes into the ground, some of it lingers, shaping itself into a bone ring mounted with a topaz. Ethan grabs it from the ground and identifies it.
Ancient ring of ice transmutation (D)
Pouring Ether into this ring will manifest ice Ether.
"That would be useful if it manifested light Ether," Ethan thinks. He slips on the ring and moves a sliver of Ether into it. A minuscule amount of cold blue Ether escapes the topaz, swirling into the air. "The conversion rate is awful. Too bad I don''t have any spell for it; at least I could use it next time I''m in a desert."
"Useless, foolish man!" the creature curses. Its voice breaks, as if it were losing its mind. "The one before took it from me! You need to die! You must die, or I''ll be stuck here forever! You selfish creature, die! Give me what is mine!"
Despite Ethan''s hex, it wrenches the blade free, making it clatter to the ground. Ethan summons Dark Fate and throws it at the beast, hitting it as it flies away. It falls; its gasps for air mix with gurgles of blood.
Ethan approaches the beast. Its breaths grow shallow and fast; his dagger must have hit something important. Perhaps, in its last moments, it will prove itself useful. Ethan asks, "What is it you want? That thing that would have gotten you a way out?"
"I won''t tell you, or you''ll want it," the creature says between gulps of black blood. It crawls away, slowly and predictably, desperately trying to escape Ethan. It falls on its invisible face, the thud echoing on the walls. "I hope you thirst to death here, lose your mind, and rot among the other corpses."
It stops squirming. The coal-like dust appears where it was and seeps into the ground, leaving Ethan''s dagger. He stores it and gives a final search of the temple, seeking any hidden passage or stash. He finds nothing and resigns himself to leave this place.
''Is this why people are killing each other here?'' Ethan ponders as he aims for another building, a European church. Russ trails by his side, his head bouncing up and down in fatigue. Ethan realizes that he hasn''t slept in days. ''He got some rest at the back of the car, but he might still be exhausted. Backpack.''
Russ jumps on Ethan''s back, placing his front paws above his shoulders. Ethan supports his legs to help him stay secured, and Russ rests his head, closing his eyes.
Sylas - Chapter 4: Deserter
Sylas gasps for air, trying to breathe in the cold waters that take him. He opens his heavy eyes to see Liliana standing next to him, an empty bucket of cold water in her hands. He looks down at the book, fearing that she watered it. It has moved away to a far corner of the workbench, away from the water.
"I told you to be on time," she says, exasperated. She throws the bucket back next to the large barrel of water. Her gaze falls on Righteous Edge, resting in its sheath along the workbench. She grabs its handle; while she can pivot it on its tip, it''s too heavy for her to lift. "Is this why you look like you didn''t sleep?"
"It is," Sylas answers. He stands up and grabs the blade, attaching it to his belt. He closes the book and places it under his arm. "My gear is upstairs. You can wait for me outside."
With a scoff, she leaves through the front door, passing the shop''s earliest customers. Sylas removes his drenched shirt to squeeze out the water it holds.
Leaving the smithy, Sylas notices that he''s calmer this morning; seeing Liliana doesn''t overwhelm him with shyness. The lingering sense of dread seems to have vanished as well. His body aches as he steps upstairs to his apartment. He spots her, watching him from behind a corner.
Sylas finds his door unlocked, not by force but by someone who used lockpicks. He pushes it open and enters his home. He places his book in a satchel, along with spare clothing, his coins, and the harmony shard he dropped. "Everything I own takes so little space," he mutters to himself.
He changes into dry, clean clothes and clads himself in his guard attire. A knot forms as he tightens his chest plate. He does it all so fast, as if he wants to go out there as a soldier. He sits on the bed, glancing at the room.
He lets out a long sigh, taking in the sight of his small apartment. The silence hangs heavy; he rubs his temples, trying to push away the fatigue and worry. He stands up slowly and heads outside.
Liliana is waiting at the end of the stairs, looking impatient. Sylas descends to her level. Getting closer to her, he notices that she seems sleepy, as if she woke up a few minutes ago. "Not a morning person?"
"Clearly," she answers. She motions for him to follow her before guiding him through the streets. "You scared me; I thought you were gone when I found your home empty."
"So, you are the thief who picked my door," Sylas mocks. "How unbecoming of a guard."
Liliana smiles lightly. She explains, "I started the job by investigating crimes in the city. It¡¯s a good skill to have when you need to investigate a suspect''s home without alerting them."
As they near the north gate, Liliana takes a turn into a small alley. She stops before a large yard with a cobblestone fence. Children are cleaning leaves that have fallen from an oak tree that sits in the middle. An old woman clothed in an ample dress bearing the effigy of Seraphel approaches.
"To what do we owe the pleasure, Lady Eirlys?" the woman asks, her voice soft and respectful. Children look at them, stopping their tasks as they listen to the conversation.
"I have something for you," Liliana says. She pulls out a pouch from her satchel, coins clinking inside. The woman moves her hands to protest, but Liliana pushes the pouch into her hands before she can speak. "I''m only a courier from my mother; she wouldn''t let you refuse. Well, mostly; I added some of mine to it. I hope it will get you a bit farther."
Liliana unties the pouch in the woman''s hands, revealing a top layer of gold coins. By the size of the pouch, it must contain around a hundred coins. Opening it here could endanger the place by attracting muggers and thieves; the woman must understand that as she closes it hastily.
"Thank you for your generosity, Lady Eirlys," the woman says. She hides the coins in her robe. "It''s a wonderful gift. It will help us keep them warm and fed this winter. And it will allow us to pay teachers to come more often."
"I''m glad to hear it. I''m afraid we must go; our troops are waiting for us," Liliana says. She offers a small bow and walks back from where they came; Sylas follows her, and soon they reach their troops waiting near the gate.
A Corporal steps towards them, straightening into a salute. He informs them, "Sergeant Eirlys, Sergeant Heartwell. We are loading the last of our supplies as four others are fetching the horses. But we are missing someone, ma''am, sir."
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"Who?" Liliana asks, glancing at the soldiers. They are loading crates and bags bought from shops, adding them to their spare spears and camping supplies.
"Osric Dunleigh, ma''am, sir."
Sylas unfurls the parchment holding all their names and finds his along with the address of his home. It is written that he lives with his parents. He hands it to Liliana, pointing at the correct row. He mutters, "My name is Hartwell."
Liliana smiles lightly. She whispers, "You should say it louder, or he will get it wrong again."
Sylas looks the soldier in the eyes and reiterates, "My name is Hartwell, not Heartwell."
The Corporal tenses. He stammers, "My apologies, sir. I''ll not make that mistake again." He stares at Sylas as if expecting something ¨C something he dreads rather than anything else.
"It is usual to order physical exercise as punishment for small mistakes. It helps them remember," Liliana whispers. She hands back the parchment to Sylas.
"Go back to your men," Sylas orders. He tries to make his tone as authoritative as possible. "Do not get it wrong again."
"Leadership leveled up."
"He will do it again," Liliana whispers. She motions for Sylas to follow her, and he does as such.
Sylas retorts, "Perhaps, but then he will have been warned of the consequences. Are second chances not a thing in your world?"
"You don''t get a second chance when someone stabs you," Liliana answers.
They move through alleyways until they reach a small house, cramped between two others. Liliana knocks on the door, the sound echoing back outside. She demands, "This is the guard. Open your door."
A long silence follows. Sylas moves around, looking through the windows for any signs of movement. "He could have missed his squad, waiting at the garrison. And his parents must be at work."
"Is that the most likely reason?" Liliana asks. "Can you think of another?"
"He could have been killed or kidnapped on his way. His family could have been murdered in their sleep, or he could have deserted," Sylas humors.
"Perhaps. We have a duty to find him, as he could be in danger," she says. She kneels before the door and uses lockpicks to open it. It clicks as she turns her tools, and she stands back up with a smile. She pushes open the door. Someone pushes back, slamming the door shut.
"Let me," Sylas says, approaching the door. Using Strengthening, he kicks the door, breaking it open. A man flies from it, crashing into a table and its chairs.
Liliana enters, placing her thin blade under the man''s throat. She asks, "You look like your son. Where is he?"
Something moves in the shadows ¨C a woman swinging a pan at Liliana. She swings her blade, hitting Sylas'' as he parries her and grabs the woman by the wrist.
"He wanted to be a city guard. He would have earned a good wage without risking his life every day. But you wanted to send him to fight Orcs!" the woman screams.
"Where is he?" Liliana reiterates, placing her blade back under the man''s throat.
He answers, "He left a note last night; we found it on his bed. We don''t know where he is."
"He deserted then," Liliana says, removing her blade. "You''ll be questioned. But," she turns to the woman, "attacking a guard is an offense that will carry a prison sentence."
The woman falls to her knees, tears forming in her eyes. A guard arrives at the door, alerted by Sylas breaching the door. He asks, "Do you need assistance, Sergeants?"
"I''ll let you handle it," Liliana says, heading further inside the house. "I''ll make sure he isn''t hiding under a bed and try to find something to track him down."
The guard looks at Sylas, waiting for orders. He glances at the scene, understanding what is happening with ease.
"Take them into custody," Sylas orders. "Do not harm them; they only need to be interrogated about the desertion of their son, Osric Dunleigh."
They turn their heads to Sylas, surprised by his words. The soldier guides them outside; they offer no resistance. Liliana reappears in the room, looking furious.
"It wasn''t your right to decide what to report or not. She attacked me and should bear the consequences of her actions," Liliana says. "You don''t get to judge them; it isn''t our role."
"She acted in anger and confusion; you weren¡¯t harmed, and neither was I. Hadn''t I stopped you, you would have killed her; you aimed at her throat," Sylas retorts, his voice growing louder. "I am not one of you. And if becoming like you means killing scared mothers, I won''t let it happen. You don''t get to tell me what is right; this is mine to decide."
Liliana recoils as Sylas unconsciously steps forward. He realizes he''s scaring her and lets it go, leaving the building. She exits after him, her face etched with several shifting emotions. It is not fear, anger, or disdain, but rather worry, as if she was the one who said something she shouldn''t have.
"Intimidation leveled up."
"What will happen to him?" Sylas asks, breaking the silence.
"If we had caught him in his home, he would have been sentenced to a short period in jail," Liliana answers. They reach their soldiers as they secure the carts. "But now that he has fled, the sentence will likely be death."
A soldier guides a horse to her, and she climbs onto its back. The stallion wears leather and iron armor covering his head, neck, and chest. Sea snakes garnish blue cloths attached to the armor, yet it bears a larger, iron molding of a wyrm with fins and scales.
"I''m guessing this horse is a personal addition to your gear," Sylas says, a hint of jealousy in his voice.
"Envious?" Liliana mocks. She bends to the side, making sure only Sylas can hear her. "You can mount behind me if you want. But I doubt it will improve how the soldiers see you."
"I''m fine walking," Sylas says, blushing. He leaves her to place himself at the end of the formation while she takes the lead. As they pass the city''s gate, his mind turns into a storm, thoughts colliding and scattering. The stress gnaws at him, making his head throb, as if his skull were trying to hold a flood of worries and fear.
As he walks, and as the landscape turns into unconquered wilderness, a shroud spreads in his body, releasing the tensions. It is as if his body has reached a point where it ignores the stress that is still all too present in his mind.
Chapter 86: Desolate lands - Part 2
"What are you doing?!" The scream reaches Ethan''s enhanced ears. He spots the scared figure through the rocks. Someone¡ªa man with elongated limbs and a crooked frame¡ªswings a blade at him. They are close; if Ethan has to kill someone to advance, better it be a would-be murderer.
''Silent steps, Strengthening,'' Ethan thinks. He leaps above, landing next to the attacking man. He swings Phantom Reaver, his landing and presence muffled by Silent steps. The blade carves the man''s back, cutting from his shoulder to his hips.
The attacked young man lies seated against a rock, three deep lacerations apparent on his chest. Death Ether clings to him, withering his skin by the instant. His fingers seek a potion in a satchel attached to his belt, the glass vial slipping from his bloodied grip.
The Wolf, his fur already apparent, leaps to the side. He comes back at Ethan as if his wound isn¡¯t affecting him. He swings his blade, a Draugr''s short sword coated in death Ether. Ethan deflects it and slashes the man''s chest, cutting his liver, ribs, and right lung deeply.
The assailant descends on all fours, running away like a beast. Ethan bends to burst after him but senses a tug at his pants. The wounded man has grabbed them, his touch withering the fibers. Ethan stops himself, fearing he might tear off the man''s wrist with his strength.
Ethan summons his suppressed M4 and shoots, hitting the Wolf in the legs, back, and shoulder. He leaps from one rock to another, barely bothered by his wounds. Russ leaps after him, only stopping as Ethan orders, ''Heel.'' The Wolf vanishes in the distance.
Ethan summons the Abyss Watcher lantern, dispelling the death Ether surrounding the young man. He kneels to his level, lifting the potion to his lips. The man swallows it all in pained gulps, his bright purple eyes locked on Ethan.
The edges of his wounds flare up with dark green veins. They don''t heal and keep spitting blood on the ground. He gags on his own blood; tears drip on his cheeks. "I am going to die here. I shouldn''t have come¡ I thought it was my chance to be someone great. And now I''ll rot in this forsaken place."
''He got both his lungs,'' Ethan thinks. The wounds he suffered are filled with death Ether the lantern doesn¡¯t affect. Ethan peers into the man with predator''s sight. ''They are collapsing, and he has several internal bleeds. These are catastrophic injuries. I still have a potion, but I''d need to draw the death Ether out of his body. Even if I succeed, I don¡¯t know if I can expel it from mine; I have nothing to consume death Ether.''
"Medicine leveled up. You obtained the Human Hunter title. One characteristic point has been granted," the voice announces.
"If I asked you to kill me, would you do it?" His voice is barely a whisper, fueled by the little air his lungs can move. He stares into Ethan''s eyes, his filled with tears. "Forget it; I''d fail to ask it¡ I tried once before, years ago. It¡¯s fear that stopped me. Not of pain, just fear."
"It is natural to be afraid of death," Ethan says. "It doesn¡¯t have to be rational. It¡¯s your body doing all it can to continue existing."
"Are you afraid of death?" the boy coughs. "The only good thing it gave me was the sight to see the emotions of others. You are blank, like I¡¯ve never seen."
"Emotions are a luxury I don¡¯t permit myself," Ethan says. A dying man wouldn''t denounce him anyway. The conviction he says it with, along with the immediacy of his response, makes him ponder. ''Do I, or is it just my heightened Willpower? Lucian lives by this statement, but it¡¯s not as if I never felt fear. In the last month alone, I feared for the sanity of my soul, and I was afraid that Russ might die. It is a strange thing, knowing no fear for mythological monsters or my own demise, yet being scared for another''s life.''
He coughs blood, distracting Ethan from his thoughts. "It¡¯s getting cold," he mutters. Ethan summons his black coat and drapes it over his shaking frame.
"Is there someone you wish to inform of your fate?" Ethan asks. Tombstone can send anonymous, untraceable messages, and this wouldn¡¯t be the first time.
"No," he coughs. His body arches forward as his strength leaves him. "I had a girl until last month, but besides her, they are all long gone."
Russ lies down near them, watching the area. "What is your name?" Ethan asks.
"It doesn¡¯t matter," the man says, his eyes losing their color. "I never mattered, and no one will remember me when I¡¯m gone."
Ethan stays silent as he senses that the man has only seconds left. He grabs his shoulder, stopping him from falling face-first to the ground in his last moments, and places him on his back.
His body turns into coal-like dust, flowing through Ethan''s fingers and into the ground. A large, bronze coin remains in his palm, heavy. A skull is molded onto it. Ethan turns it around as he stands back up, wondering if the man was real or a servant of the labyrinth.
He waits for a moment, expecting the system to tell him something. After seconds of silence, he grabs his coat and places it back into his inventory. ''If it is a reference to Charon''s obol, I might be able to move forward now. He should have told me his name; I could¡¯ve thanked him properly.''
Unnatural howls echo as ten heartbeats and pairs of running feet rush towards them. A larger, bigger man with a strong, slow heart leads their pack. They exit into the clearing, clad in Draugr''s armor and bearing their weapons. They may have been men once, but they stand as crazed, hunched, near-monsters. The look in their eyes screams hunger and hate, like that of rabid wolves.
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They expand, forming a line behind their de facto leader. "Give us the coin, and we¡¯ll let you leave with your life," he says. His sentience surprises Ethan.
"You can talk; I thought you were too far gone already," Ethan says. Despite his conviction that he¡¯s far stronger, he¡¯d rather spare his stamina and ammo from a pointless fight. "Leave this place; if you don¡¯t, you will die painfully, like countless others before you."
Their leader hurls his axes at the ground, letting out a growl. Russ swells in size, curling behind Ethan, his head reaching his master¡¯s chest. He growls louder than the half-monster, making the other Wolves step away.
"Get me their coins!" he roars. The ones behind him burst forward, hefting their rusted swords, axes, hammers, and spears. The one that fled is among them, his wounds healed into scars.
''Stop,'' Ethan orders. Russ stays where he is, growling. He summons his combat shotgun and shoots sabots at each of them. The projectiles pierce their skulls, hearts, and lungs with ease. Seconds after they charged, they now lay on the ground.
The four he headshot turn to dust, each leaving a coin and their belongings on the ground. Bones crunch as those whose brains are intact move. The rare sabot that stopped in their flesh falls and bounces on the ground as they stand up. They morph, their bones elongating as they move further away from humanity.
Ethan unsummons his empty shotgun and manifests Phantom Reaver. A Wolf jumps at him; Ethan sinks his blade into its guts. He grabs the writhing beast by the throat and throws him away in time to cut another¡¯s lunging claws. The Wolf holds his cut fingers in pain, opening himself for Ethan to cleave his head.
The first beast rolls to the ground and rushes towards Russ. Russ growls and snaps at him, remaining in his spot as commanded. Ethan orders, ''Kill.''
Their leader hammers the ground, swelling in size as white fur rips out of his shirt. He breaks into a four-legged rush, crushing the ground with each stride. He leaps into the air, diving towards Ethan.
Ethan summons Skysong under his arm and supports it with the ground. It impales the beast, and Ethan summons fire, coiling it along the spear. The white Wolf bursts into flames, clawing at the air in desperation. Ethan throws him to the side, unsummoning his spear.
Russ whines. Ethan turns to see him biting down on the Wolf''s throat, but the mad beast twisted his dismantling neck to bite Russ''. A hammer hits Ethan in the chest, sending him beside Russ. He spins mid-air, skidding on his feet to slash the biter''s head.
Russ coils and whines. Something burns under his fur. Aetherian sigils carve themselves on Russ'' back. He bends to lick them, whining and squealing in pain.
The Wolves recoil, their legs shaking as Ethan''s aura seeps past his ring. It comes in blasts, each sending waves through the Ether. The threads whip their skin and fur, sending burning shards of Ether into their flesh.
He feels his life force extracting from his heart, outside of his control, drawn by his wrath. Ethan unsummons Phantom Reaver and calls Tatiana''s Blade.
Zhiznezhret (§Ø§Ú§Ù§ß§î§Ø§â§×§ä)
This saber made of an alloy of wyrdium and steel can grow into a great sword when fed Ether. It eats away the life force of its victims, turning it into a plume of red anyone can absorb.
This weapon is enchanted with [Shift - Great sword (C)] and [Soul eater (C)].
Ethan''s rage pries life force from the depths of his heart, feeding it to his Ether. The saber grows into a great sword, its veins burning with searing red. Blue fire drips from his offhand as he summons a Flame spell.
Their leader stands back up, his fur a carbonized black. He roars, and they charge forward. Using Strengthening, Ethan takes a single step; the force makes him vanish, only for him to appear before a rock, his great sword impaling the leader to it. The sound of his stone-breaking step comes as a delayed, deafening crack.
Strands of red escape the Wolf, seeping into Ethan''s body to refuel his lifeforce. He slaps the air before him, hurling liquid fire at the beast. Ethan stares the Wolf in the eyes as his regeneration and the flames fight in excruciating torment.
As Ethan wrenches the blade free, he feels it struggling. He peeks down; Zhiznezhret''s edge is chipped in several spots. The likely explanation is that Phantom Reaver damaged it in the fight against Tatiana.
The three remaining Wolves flee. Ethan moves in their way, grinding into the ground to stop himself. He places his second hand on the handle, covering the blade in dripping fire. He bisects the three with a single swing, their bodies bursting in consuming flames.
He moves back to the leader, whose only remains are his head and burning torso. He demands, "How do I break the curse?!"
The Wolf stares him in the eyes, the only sound escaping him a low growl. His shoulder moves, as if trying to claw Ethan with his nonexistent arm.
"Answer me!" Ethan commands. The torso''s head snaps and snarls, not a thread of humanity left in it. Ethan lets the fire consume him, ending his tainted existence.
"You leveled up (x2). Russ leveled up. Melee Weapon (Long sword) leveled up (x3). Melee Weapon (Great sword) leveled up (x10). Ether manipulation leveled up. Life force manipulation leveled up (x5)," the system announces. Ethan doesn''t listen; he rushes back to Russ'' side, diving to kneel beside him.
Russ shrinks down, the bite diminishing to that of no more than a dog. Ethan doesn''t dare look at the mark, fearing to trigger the transformation. He thinks, ''Status.''
Russ
Lv.15/20 (Ambush predator) Lichor (Dog)
Bonded: Ethan Reed (Obedience 94)
Strength: 10 Charisma: 6
Dexterity: 23 Perception: 25
Constitution: 12 Willpower: 14
Intelligence: 6
Abilities
Bond telepathy
Camouflage (F)
Growth (F)
Hunter''s mark (F)
Poisoned natural weapons (F)
Shadow blend (F)
Silent steps (F)
Alteration
Curse of monstrosity (Minor)
Ethan''s heart tightens as he glances at the bottom of Russ'' status. He rummages through the Wolves'' belongings. Among scraps of food and remnants of water, he finds two vials of health potion. He uncorks one and pours it into Russ'' bowl. He orders, "Drink."
Russ licks the potion. His wounds close, forming small scars where fur won''t grow again. He stands, prancing on the ground, unaware of his condition. Ethan''s worry attracts Russ'' attention. He approaches and licks his face, trying to make him feel better.
Ethan feels a pull on his mind. The hateful woman''s voice appears again. "You slayed five Wolves, and for this feat you''ll be granted a point of Strength, and a point of Constitution. You slayed ten Wolves, and for this feat you''ll be granted a bead of evolution."
Red light and smoke manifest before Ethan before forming into a small sphere. He catches the bead of red marble into his hands. It emits a pungent smell of roasted, seasoned meat that waters Ethan''s mouth. Russ lunges at it, but Ethan keeps it away. He orders, "Leave it."
Russ continues to jump at Ethan''s hands despite his order. He stores it in his inventory, and Russ calms down, a disappointed look on his face. The pull on Ethan''s mind recedes.
"It would be a good time to have a vision," Ethan mutters. He walks from one corpse to another, prying the coins from the ground. "Because I don''t know what to do."
The coin he holds in his hand vibrates. Whispers, inaudibly low, escape it, shrouding Ethan''s mind. A vision of a lake takes him, then it moves through the alleys of the labyrinth until it returns to his eyes. The whispers vanish, leaving Ethan in a daze. He looks at the path it showed and begins walking, Russ on his heel.
Chapter 87: Desolate lands - Part 3
The path showed by the vision feels eternal. The landmarks Ethan takes to locate himself move accordingly to him, but the castle''s approach is slower. Something alters his perception of distance, but Ethan is convinced that he''s getting closer.
The endless landscape of rocks, vines, and Draugrs hypnotizes Ethan like a long road. Remaining focused on his enhanced senses, he daydreams of the consequences of the Wolves appearance.
Their ability to spread their curse with a bite is a danger, especially since they can regenerate. He thinks, ''I hope governments have gathered enough forces to deal with them. ¡ Who am I kidding? As if they would act to snuff them out before it becomes unmanageable.''
Water begins to appear more often, forming puddles and small streams that descend towards their destination. ''If half of the population became a Villager and given a yearly murder rate of around six for every hundred thousand people,'' Ethan thinks. ''There could be fifty thousand of them. It would be less because murderers don''t stop at one victim, but it could also be more with the changes brought by the system.''
The passage they tread open onto a vast lake. An island stands in the distance, shrouded behind a mist. Ethan can discern tombs on its shores. He ponders, ''Do we need to get to it? But I can''t be sure that those waters are safe. It''s not even real water.''
A paddle hits the surface of the lake, attracting Ethan''s attention. Invisible to predator''s sight, he sees a figure approaching on a small boat. Black and dusty rags cover its body, face, and even forms. A smell of rotting meat approaches with it, forcing Russ to cover his nose.
It stands alone in its empty boat. As it approaches, Ethan notices its bark-like skin covered in moss and fungi. It looks humanoid, but its head is too high, and its limbs seem covered in growths that lift its rags.
"Your pockets are heavy, traveler," the gondolier says in English, its voice wet and deep. It sits down in its boat as it stops on the shore. It moves its hand over the empty part of its ride and summons items from a glowing mist. "May I interest you in my wares? Ethan Reed."
''Stop,'' Ethan orders. He leaves Russ behind as he approaches the thing. Mushroom, mush, and mold make its body, yet it feels incomprehensibly familiar. He stares at it in what should be its eyes. "How do you know my name? I didn''t sense you using Insight. Did you have another way to discover it?"
"I am Decay, a servant of Kaliathra," it answers. The revelation makes Ethan ponder. It seemed as if this place wasn''t hers but rather a creation based on Earth''s myths. "Though our meeting here is none of her designs, I know your name for it echoes in her realm."
"Is this her realm? I thought we were still on Earth." Ethan asks. "It seems quite different to the place she summoned me to."
"This isn''t your world, nor the one you visited. This is a halfway point, an ephemeral place I can reach because of its link to our essence," Decay explains.
"Then why are you here? To sell wares? It seems unfitting of someone of your name," Ethan asks, curious. "One could think that you are a danger to them, something that would want to infest them."
"The nature of things is to die; it doesn''t have to be today." Its voice carries a sense of authority, like that of a teacher. "I''m only here to save the souls I can. Those coins you carry hold them prisoner, and I have a duty to grant them eternal rest."
"I''d prefer you to answer my questions rather than sell me wares," Ethan says.
"Ask, and I shall try to help you find answers," Decay offers.
"Russ has been bitten," Ethan begins. Russ whines, reacting to his name. "He is infected with the Curse of Monstrosity, and I need to know how to cure him."
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Decays'' Ether seeps past the control it exerts on its aura. Though it doesn''t move or even shivers, a moan of pain escapes it. A thread whips Ethan''s forearm, sending a burning pain into his flesh. For a moment, Ethan senses its Ether as denser than Mount Silverveil''s beast. Dizziness takes Ethan, the presence too heavy for his mind. Decay calms his aura, returning it to its unreadable state.
"I cannot answer your question, for I was commanded not to. Only a god may loosen my tongue," it answers. Ethan looks to the side, pinching his lower lip as he ponders if it is too dangerous to try.
"Ans¨C" Ethan begins in Aetherian. The first syllable of the word spends his Ether, closing his throat as the last threads escape it. Thankfully, unlike an ability, Aetherian doesn''t trigger life force exhaustion of its own.
"You are too weak," Decay laments. The comment comes as a confirmation that Aetherian is the key to its knowledge. Ethan replenishes his reserves with the surrounding threads. He tries to absorb more, pushing his limits, but his heart aches and his body expels it.
''The Ether here isn''t dense enough to use it to train. And Russ condition leaves me no time for it,'' Ethan thinks, his mind racing. He looks down at his hand, clenching it into a fist. ''If I can''t gather more Ether, I have no choice but to make it stronger.''
He closes his eyes, tensing his body as he reaches within his memories. He floods his mind with images of the attack Russ suffered, of Tatiana killing Kyle, of the Plague Merchant''s victims, and of his father''s death. Wrath surges through him, drawing life force from his heart and into his Ether. They swirl together, mixing with one another. As he speaks again, the world quiets, the lights dim, and the clouds freeze. "Answer."
Ethan''s Ether escapes his throat in its entirety, flooding the surroundings and Decay. It seeps into its body, vanishing into it. Ethan gasps for air. Despite having used life force to amplify the potency of his Ether, a single world left him empty.
"Life force manipulation leveled up."
"You care more about your companion than about yourself," Decay notes, his tone affirmative. "Contrary to the many other curses, that of monstrosity isn''t a mortal''s creation. If there is such a thing, only its creator knows of its cure. Her intents in brewing it are a mystery to even the gods, and more than one has lost a devoted follower to it."
Defeat takes Ethan; this is the opposite of what he had hoped for. The hollow feeling due to the lack of Ether turns into a shallowing desperation. He looks back towards Russ, his eyes heavy.
"However, there is a path forward for your companion. One where he embraces his curse without losing himself," Decay continues. Ethan twitches back to the creature. A glowing mist forms in its hand before taking the shape of a vial of dark ooze. Ethan places a finger on it to identify the potion.
Potion of soul purity (S)
This potion restores the soul of its consumer to its natural state, negating any mutations it may have suffered from.
Decay clutches the vial, his fingers making it clear that it is not a gift. "How much coins for the potion?" Ethan asks.
"It is something you desire deeply. My task beacons me to ask for all the souls you can spare," Decay answers.
Ethan puffs at Decay''s price. It would be a ruthless salesman on Earth. He asks, "How much should I keep for me and Russ to pass the trials?"
"One each," Decay answers.
Making sure the one belonging to the young man is among them, Ethan summons nine of the eleven coins. The creature opens and extends its other hand, where Ethan places the coins. It stores them in its inventory and grabs Ethan''s hand, carefully placing the vial into it. Its flesh yields against Ethan''s skin with a cold and sticky touch.
"I had a vision of this place when I was ¡ praying for a cure. Were you the one who called me here?" Ethan asks. Still looking at Decay, he stores the potion in his inventory.
"I did no such thing," Decay begins. "I heard you were blessed with a gift from God, granting you visions of both the past and future. Perhaps it helped you in that regard."
"It was different," Ethan mutters. Worried, he asks, "You know a lot about me, even things I have kept to myself. Should I expect the servants of Seraphel, or the other gods, to have that level of intelligence on me?"
"It is unlikely. You attracted the sight of many by your potential, but they all but one turned their gaze to another," Decay answers. "We, servants of Kaliathra, wouldn''t betray her trust; we wouldn''t share her words. Without her, we would be nothing."
"I''m I to understand she watches me days and nights?" Ethan asks. A shiver travels along his spine, spiking the base of his skull. "Please do not answer. I''d rather ignore the truth that know she is."
"I leave you to your journey," Decays says as it stands in its boat. It grabs its paddle and floats away. Before vanishing, it adds, "You need to give it to him only after the curse finished its natural progression. No matter how painful it may be for both of you."
"Where should I go next?" Ethan asks loudly for Decay to hear.
"To the castle of the lord," Decay answers. He vanishes into the mist, his voice coming as an echo. "They are waiting."
Chapter 88: Vivid history
Ethan looks at the sky, noting once again the absence of flying creatures. Extremely large and tall, the towers of the castle loom over them, projecting long shadows. It still seems far, a few hours at least. Ethan''s eyes have grown heavy over the last hour, his need for sleep finally catching up.
''Midnight,'' Ethan notes, looking at his disconnected phone. Russ sleeps deeply on Ethan''s back. He looks around, his gaze falling on an alcove carved in a cliff-sized rock. No human presence is in the area. ''That''s the safest spot we''ve seen thus far. If my body was only ignoring the effects of sleep deprivation, I could soon experience hallucinations. I need to rest.''
''Off,'' Ethan orders. Russ raises his head and shakes it. After jumping down, he follows Ethan as he ascends to the alcove. It is deep enough to be called a cavern, offering a single-entry point shelter. Ethan scans it through predator''s sight and then stares at the Ether, searching for movements that never come. He sits down, his back against the farthest wall. Exhausted, Russ falls on the side, stretching his legs before closing his eyes.
"I guess I have to take a watch until you wake up from your coma," Ethan mutters. He summons the book he bought in Opal and opens it for the first time. ''The fall of the eternal kingdom: 800 years of Aldorian history.''
Recalling the same symbol from Elowen''s sanctuary, Ethan traces his finger on the Wyvern insignia woven onto the cover. The first few chapters detail the early days of Aldoria ¨C a fragmented continent containing Opal.
The current calendar begins at Aldoria¡¯s founding, but the book speaks of events that occurred long before that. Those initial chapters recount the existence of countless small territories ruled by warlords. It was an era of perpetual conflict, where borders shifted with each passing year.
Amid this chaos, a man of no renown emerged from a distant corner of the continent. Aranthor Elarion was barely more than a boy when he slew the warlord who had oppressed him. This first conquest was the first of a long crusade against all Aldoria''s rulers. Everywhere he went, he inspired others to join his cause, building an unstoppable force.
In less than a decade, he conquered all of Aldoria, a feat no ruler had ever accomplished. But the hero soon revealed himself to be a tyrant. He chose the most powerful of his army to be the executors of his will ¡ª a will bent on controlling everything. He outlawed all religions, burned the temples of every god, and hunted down anyone who prayed in secret. Yet his reign is remembered as the safest period in history, with no notable calamities.
King Elarion remained on the throne for five hundred years until he left on a solitary journey south in search of power and riches. It is believed to have led to his demise. Not long after his disappearance, Orcs surged into Aldoria through portals, conquering it in less time than Aranthor had taken.
After the fall of Kingsreach ¡ª then the capital of Aldoria and now the capital of Valloria ¡ª the God of War appeared, enabling humanity to fight back. Legend has it that the war itself gave birth to Balthor. With his guidance, new heroes fought back against the green tide, forcing the surviving Orcs to flee to the southern continent of Kharsis.
''The soldiers I fought with gave their lives for a savior that never arrived. At least mankind won in the end,'' Ethan thinks. He feels a pull on his mind, a vision that beacons him. He checks the surroundings with predator''s sight and lets it swallow his consciousness.
A room appears, stretching wide and high, its stone walls draped in shadows. Torches mounted along the perimeter flicker, creating dim lights. An emerald glow emanates from towering crystal pillars, each holding swirling souls. The sight pinches Ethan''s heart. How many people is that? He feels like he could discern thousands of faces.
An astronomical apparatus dominates the core of the room ¨C a labyrinth of interconnected, metal spheres and rings. It moves languidly in ever-shifting orbits around a central altar. A necklace levitates above it ¨C the same complete necklace Ethan''s father died for. A surge of hope urges him to approach, and as he does, he sees two figures standing opposite from the altar.
One bears an armor of gold, while the other''s is of the darkest blacks. Swords rest at their sides as they talk, their voices barely whispers to Ethan''s ears until he reaches them. The armors they wear are airtight, composed of small plates moving on each other in perfect articulation.
"You could have done right by the people the day you slew the last king. But no, you had to continue the cycle and take the throne for yourself!" the black knight accuses. His left arm motions violently as he speaks. "I trusted you, Aranthor, and you betrayed me. You betrayed all of us!"
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"You don¡¯t understand," Aranthor says, his sword posed at his side. "I shouldered mankind for centuries, protecting them from¨C"
Black interrupts, "You call that protecting?! You made them weak, unable to choose for themselves, forever bound to your will. Our armies would have crushed the green skins and brought the fight to their world. But today! They are overwhelmed, on the brink of total defeat. If our enemies of old saw what we became, they would laugh at our weakness."
''So, he was still alive when the Orcs were attacking,'' Ethan notes. As expected, he should copiously doubt anything he reads about their history.
"It''s not too late!" Aranthor booms. He circles the altar, the black knight answering at the same pace. "If you stop this madness, we will drive the Orcs off our world! There is no need to destroy theirs or even invade it. Close the gates! With the both of us, exterminating those who remain will be over before dusk."
The black knight aims his blade at Aranthor. "I will not allow your reign to endure."
"The people you seek to save from me are dying because of your actions," Aranthor accuses. "You are a hypocrite and a fool."
"The strong will survive," the black knight retorts. "There''s no point in talking any further. History will decide who''s right."
"I don''t care who thinks I''m right," Aranthor mutters. He bursts forward, swinging his blade as he passes the levitating pendant. Black deflects his attack and answers with a downward slash.
Aranthor kicks black in the back. He moved with a speed Ethan couldn''t perceive. He didn''t make a sound, didn''t create a blur, and didn''t move the air. Black flies through the room to crash into the opposite wall.
"You are holding back," black growls. He jumps down to the ground. "Why? Do you hope that you can spare the last person that remembers you as anything else than a tyrant?"
"You''ve been by my side in the darkest hours of our lives. Caelum, you are a brother to me," Aranthor says. "I understand how it seems, but if you trust me, I can promise you that our dream, your dream, will come true."
"Then make me trust you!" Caelum orders. "How could I, after all this time, after all you''ve done, when you keep your so-called plans to yourself?! There was a part of me who yearned to believe you, an ember of trust; but you snuffed it out."
Howling souls escape the crystal pillars and seep into the medallion. It shines with a blinding light, Ether so dense it manifests to the naked eye. Aranthor bursts forward to swing at the pendant. Caelum does the same, parrying Aranthor''s blade before it reaches its target.
The air splits between them, their auras fighting against each other''s. Sparks fly off their blades as they maneuver to create an opening. Caelum says, "Even now you restrain yourself. If they really mattered to you, you''d have killed me by now; I know you could."
The medallion spins, the light it emits turning into thin threads coalescing into a crystal shard. Aranthor hurls his left hand at the medallion, urging Caelum to do the same. Their gauntlets close around the pendant, twisting its light as their auras clash with a thundering crack. Bringing new lights to the room, tears form in the space around them, showing an endless void akin to outer space.
Blinding light fills Ethan''s sight, vanishing along the two knights, the tears, and the pendant. The crystal shard the medallion was forming breaks into dust that falls onto the altar. Its fragments melt the stone, turning into specks of lava.
''I saw this exact shard in my vision,'' Ethan thinks. He climbs the stairs to the altar. Could it be that this medallion is the one that found its way to Earth? Ethan glances everywhere, trying to find a clue as to where he is.
A shiver travels through his spine as if something were watching him. The shadows of the room spread, throwing it into darkness as the torches die and the souls dim.
"A pity," a voice mutters from the darkness. It is deep, commanding, and carries a sinister edge.
Noise grows in Ethan''s ears, blended with thousands of foreign whispers. His sight darkens, and his heart races. His body reacts as if the entity were an immediate danger to his life. Is it? Can this thing wound his body or his soul through a vision? Forcefully closing his eyes, Ethan tries to wake himself up.
A pair of red eyes shine in Ethan''s sight, carved into his eyelids. The voice appears above the noise, silencing it with theatrical arrogance. "All this power turned into specks of dust. Ho, how wrathful would you be seeing yourself? The thought alone delights me. Now, shall we return you home?"
Leaping to his feet and gasping for air, Ethan returns to the present. The book fell in his abrupt movement, losing the page he was at. Russ lifts his head; he stares at Ethan with a look begging to rest longer.
"Don''t worry, we aren''t going anywhere," Ethan says. His heart still races, and his body sweats profusely, pearling onto the cavern''s ground. He grabs the book and closes it. The images of his vision flash in his mind as he tries to commit every detail to memory. Anger sparks as he thinks, ''If the medallion found his way to Earth, then one of them could be Hayes, and the other my father''s killer.''
Ethan replays their dialog in his mind, hoping to trigger Maelor''s memory. The only thing he feels is the exhaustion that washes over him as the adrenaline recedes. He sits back down and places the book into his inventory. Russ seems rested enough to both sleep and watch; Ethan closes his eyes.
''It''s getting complicated,'' Ethan thinks. Frustration takes him. He''s undeniably getting closer, but each step forward, each question answered, asks several more. His mind grows dull, and he lets himself go, falling into slumber.
Chapter 89: Offerings
Ethan finds himself in an endless loop, trapped in a distorted memory of a vision. He stands in his father''s study, his heart pounding, as he watches the scene unfold again and again. The assassin draws his gun and shoots Ethan''s father. The shot rings out impossibly loud, and Ethan watches in horror as the bullet tears through his father''s skull. Blood splatters in slow motion, painting the desk with streaks of red. His father''s body crumples, hitting the ground with a dull thud in a frozen expression of incomprehension.
And then, everything rewinds with a sickening jerk, dragging Ethan back to the beginning. He knows it''s a nightmare, but the realization does nothing to break him free. He tries to shut his eyes, but his eyes refuse to block this vision.
"Russ leveled up."
The message buzzes through his mind. Ethan''s eyes snap open, and the dream collapses like shattered glass. Panicked, he looks next to him and doesn''t find Russ. He leaps up and edges the alcove to look below. Through predator''s sight, he sees Russ in a clearing a hundred meters away.
''Strengthening,'' Ethan thinks. He hurls himself high above, crossing the distance in mere seconds. He lands in the clearing, finding a pile of Draugrs'' armor and weapons. The enlarged figure of Russ crushes the skull of a last Draugr behind the pile.
Shrinking down as he exhausts the last of his Ether, Russ howls. His body grew taller and longer while his maw widened. He is different; his entire fur turned coal-black, but Ethan recognizes him immediately.
"Russ," Ethan calls. His head twitches towards his master. Russ breaks into a run. As the fur at the base of his neck rises, he closes his maw and lowers his body. Russ leaps and bites where Ethan was. "No!"
In the middle of his sidestep, Ethan grabs Russ by the neck and forces him to the ground. He pulls inward and makes Russ fall to his side, locking him there. Russ snaps at the air, kicking and clawing the ground; he barks and growls, trying to twist his neck to get Ethan''s hand.
Ethan''s heart races, his breath coming in short gasps as he grapples with Russ. His fingers dig into the thickened fur, tugging at his neck to hold him down. "Stay with me," he pleads, his voice cracking with fear. Russ'' wrathful, bloodshot eyes flicker back to their normal, curious, and attentive look.
Ethan calms himself, trying to appear as confident and stoic as possible. Russ'' assault waivers, and he soon licks his lips in surrender, trying to appease Ethan. Ethan lets go of Russ, who rolls into a down.
"You scared me there," Ethan says. He stands up, keeping his attention on Russ to react to any surprise attack. He summons his status and looks at Russ''.
Russ
Lv.17/20 (Ambush predator) Lichor (Dog)
Bonded: Ethan Reed (Obedience 63)
¡
Abilities
Bond telepathy
¡
Alteration
Curse of monstrosity (Severe)
''At least I can still talk to you through my thoughts. Decay said to wait the end of its natural progression,'' Ethan reminds himself. He moves the armor with his foot, seeking anything of value to distract himself. Russ comes to his side, rubbing his head against Ethan''s leg. This first transformation is less extreme than that of the men he slew, yet it doesn''t reassure Ethan in the slightest. He pets his now wolf-like dog, hiding his fear of soon losing his companion.
"Let''s get moving," Ethan mutters, pulling out his phone to check the time. He realizes he only slept a few hours. Yet, despite the urgency of the situation receding, he feels surprisingly well-rested. Is it because he¡¯s a high-human, or could he push himself to stay awake for weeks if he continues to improve his Constitution?
They walk towards the castle, Ethan keeping a constant eye on Russ. The slightest, most innocent noises alarm Russ, something he has been long desensitized from. Reminiscent of his young self, but in a powerful body, he acts as if his training regressed by years.
At the castle''s feet, the molten wax of countless candles lines towering stairs. While they are all consumed to varying degrees, none of them are expired. ''Is there someone changing the candles?'' Ethan asks himself, the tough making him smirk lightly.
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Six humans wait at the end of the stairs, sitting on the oversized steps. They stare at Russ. Who wouldn''t when his predatory gaze switches between all of them? An opened arch lies behind them, the entrance to a small circular room.
''They are thirsty,'' Ethan notes as he sees the sunken look of one of the men. If he rushed here, he might be on his second day without water. ''How hard can it be to carry water on you before teleporting?''
Three of the five men wear gear taken from Draugrs, while the others are clad in chainmail and leather armor. The only woman, who sits on one of the last steps, hides her gear below a modern, woodland pattern cape.
''Leave it,'' Ethan orders as he sees Russ'' attention locking onto a man. He growls but refrains from acting; instead, he looks back at Ethan in a spurt of obedience.
The woman stands up, waving with a friendly smile. As she moves, she reveals an enchanted, neck-high gambeson shirt. She hides satchels at the back of her belt, through which Ethan cannot see. Just like her, the two leather-armored men carry haversacks in their gear.
"Hiiii." She''s tuning her voice to be unsettlingly friendly, succeeding in nothing more than alerting Ethan. She steps forward to block their path. Russ growls, approaching her while lowering himself. Ethan grabs him by the scruff and pulls him back to heel. She doesn''t seem worried about it. "I''ve never seen a Tamer before. You shouldn¡¯t growl at people like that; that''s impolite."
"Sorry, he''s not exactly himself today," Ethan says. The two properly geared men tense, staring at Russ as if they were ready to protect her from him. The first places his hand on the handle of a sword hanging from his belt, while the other slides his under his coat to a concealed dagger.
''Those two are with her, but not the others. What are they waiting for?'' Ethan ponders. He peers into the Ether. She''s the only one trying to conceal her aura. If she weren''t, it would be a mild discomfort for everyone here. Her party is leagues above the three others, but all their auras are weak by Ethan''s standards.
She readjusts her mid-length, light-brown hair with her right hand. A hand chain is attached to it over a thin, leaver glove. The piece of jewelry disturbs the Ether slightly, and so does the pair of sapphire earrings she wears. "Don''t worry, dogs love me. I''ve got a Beauceron."
''Not as a bond,'' Ethan remarks internally. Holding Russ by the collar, he steps to the side and passes her. A statue of a kneeling, withered man stands beyond the arch and before a large metal door, its hands opened and extended. Eight small, cold braziers surround the statue.
Two green flames appear on as many braziers. The people behind them stand and approach. Ethan spins to face them, hiding his left hand behind his back, where he prepares a Lightning Bolt spell.
"Don''t worry," she says. Motioning for the others to wait, she climbs to Ethan''s level. A third brazier ignites. She pulls out a soul coin from one of her satchels. "We need eight people to pass the gate, and just as many of these coins. I wasn''t sure a wolf would count, but it seems like it."
''Were they waiting outside to see if I have coins?'' Ethan asks himself. He cancels his nascent spell and summons the coins in his hidden hand before showing it. He scans the reactions, ready for all of them to try and take what is his. "How do you know that? Are you just guessing?"
"Mostly." She throws her coin at the sword-carrying man behind her, and the flame turns red. He throws it back to her; the fire shifts to green. "Thank you, Derek. I tried to hold more than one, but it doesn''t work."
Ethan clenches his jaws, refraining from sending them away as he may not have another choice. Allying himself with strangers is dangerous. None can be considered harmless, or they wouldn''t have a soul coin. He thinks, ''If it''s just to pass the gate, it''s not a problem, but I doubt it will end there. They won''t be a danger to me, especially those three. But with Russ threatening to attack them or me at any moment, they cou¨C''
Without letting Ethan finish his train of thoughts, they all enter the circular room, the flames appearing one after the other. She approaches Ethan, and a window flashes before him. "You seem competent, more than the other three at least. What do you say you join our party?"
Party invitation
Ivy Langley extends you an invitation to join her party. If you accept, you will join the following people:
Ivy Langley (Mage)
Derek Turner (Warrior)
Grant Dawson (Thief)
Accept Deny
"I don''t need to join your party to open the door," Ethan says. Her overly friendly tone cannot stop setting off alarms in his mind. Even if she doesn''t have any ill intentions, how could she trust him on a whim? He taps ''Deny'' and moves away from her, still holding Russ'' collar.
The last person crosses the threshold of the arch, and a wall of green fire closes it. The three outsiders to Ivy''s party recoil at the sound and sight, worry etching their faces.
"Just give it what it wants," Ivy says. She places her coin in the opened hands of the statue, and a first flame turns blue. One after the other, they all imitate her as Ethan watches their every movement. As he places down the last two coins, the pile turns into dust that seeps through the statue''s hands.
The door groans, scraping against the stone floor as it opens outward. A long hall awaits them, its chandeliers lighting up in quick succession. Figures fall from the sky-high ceiling, diving through the many arches that bear it. In loud thuds, three winged women clad in black plate armor land before them. Their unfurled demonic wings curl behind their backs as they rise.
''Prescience,'' Ethan thinks. Frost coalesces in Ivy''s right hand while the others heft their weapons. Not seeing any aggression from them, Ethan remains calm. He glances at the rest of the hallway, particularly the ceiling they fell from, but finds no other entities.
"Welcome to the castle of the lord of death," the three women say in unison. Light of their slightly elevated heels, they open to the side, motioning towards the end of the hallway. "They have been awaiting your arrival."
"You completed your second trial of the Labyrinth of Death, the wandering."
Chapter 90: Judgement
Ivy unsummons the spell she was preparing. She strides forward, passing Derek and then the armored women. Her party follows her, their eyes staying on the three hostesses. Ethan imitates them, keeping everyone in his Prescience-enhanced sight.
Ethan eyes the three women. They look like triplets, sharing the same elegant facial features, height, and shapes. Each wears a tiara of some sort around their long black hair, thick and engraved with snake scales. One of them, whose tiara shines with reddish hues and bears a ruby, stares back at him. Though redirected towards the end of the hall, her gaze was intense, almost hateful.
The three remaining stressed men finally lower their weapons and follow. Repeating their stone grinding sound, the gates close behind them. The three hunch at the sound. Everything worries them, even more than it stresses Russ.
The illuminated hallway ends in a stone, ornate door. ''Cain Slaying Abel,'' Ethan remembers as he sees the sculpted gates. It is a faithful medium change of the painting he once saw in London.
Statues line the wall of the hallway, depicting various historical characters of varied periods. ''Ceasar, King Midas, Nero, Genghis Khan, Louis sixteen,'' Ethan notes. There are others he doesn¡¯t recognize amongst the pristine marble statues.
Where there aren''t statues lie thick wooden doors devoid of decorations. They bear no sculpture, gold, or even silver and look poor in comparison to the rest. Weirded by it, Ethan notices the absence of smells. He can smell Russ and many of the others, but he doesn''t sense a hint of dust, rust, moisture, or anything that should be in a castle.
"Wait, isn''t that Julius Caesar? What the fuck is he doing here?" Derek asks loudly. He approaches the statue, triggering no response from the hostesses that have been following them.
"I was thinking they were people from the otherworld," Grant admits. He grabs his chin as he looks at one of the statues. His expression makes Ethan wonders if Grant is feinting to think.
"We passed like three Greek temples and got attacked by Draugrs. How uncultured must you be to not recognize them?" one of the men lagging behind says, annoyed. He hides a light Nordic accent, but his square jaw and blond hair cut like a Viking''s betray his origins. Pointing at status, he adds, "I get it for Egil Skallagrimsson, but man, Midas? Genghis Khan?"
"Shut the fuck up, Mikko. No one like a know it all," Derek says. He scuffs and catches up with Ivy, who looks at him with a displeased expression.
Ethan glances at the ceiling above the stone door. A landscape of mountains laden with distant naked men eviscerated by ground-bound blades lies there. Demonic figures, most likely Chinese Yaoguais, overview the torment. ''I should have read Journey to the West,'' Ethan grumbles to himself.
Mikko glances at Ethan and looks at the ceiling. A hint of recognition sparks on his face. "This is the hell of the mountain of knives. The ones who kill without good reasons go there."
"A crime not far from the sin of wrath, especially when motivated by envy," Ethan whispers back to Mikko. Searching for any other hidden painting, Ethan moves around while looking at the ceiling.
Metallic sounds escaping the door attract Ethan''s attention. It opens, releasing wafts of roasted meat and fried foods into the hallway. An unnamed man, whose short hair shines with sweat and oil, runs into the next room.
"Fabio, wait!" Ivy yells, her voice between worry and command. She breaks into a jog, reaching the doorway right after him. The room behind holds a royal table made of marble and contoured with gold. Filled with roasted hogs and pheasants, steamed fish, omelets, and more, the banquet shines with countless colors.
Fabio rushes to the table, grabbing a golden, fish-molded pitcher to empty it of its water. The three armored women move to the first chairs, unfazed by his behavior. They slide the seats back, inviting them to sit at the banquet.
While they restrain themselves, everyone''s face betrays their thirst and hunger. Their gazes move around as they search for any sign of deceit. A throne lies empty at the end of the table, stuffed with velvet and embroidered with gold.
"Please restore yourselves after this long journey," the hostesses say. One of them moves back the throne, as if inviting one of them to sit in it despite eight normal chairs being present at the table.
"I thought we were going to meet your lord," Ivy says, voicing Ethan''s inner thoughts. She places her hand on one of the chairs but still refrains from sitting. "Is he to join this table?"
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"They invite you to enjoy the meal they prepared for you," the hostesses say. They move to three corners of the room, like guards watching over the banquet. "Your journey must have been long and arduous; they will grant you audience once you have had time to restore yourselves and rest."
"They seem to have been waiting for sometimes," Ethan says. He moves to the last corner with Russ, ensuring that everyone is in his sight. "Having recently slept and eaten, would I be eligible to meet them now? I''m grateful for their generosity, but I have no need to eat more than necessary."
"The lord will grant you a single, common audience. You are welcome to wait on the side and to spend the night awake," they say.
Ethan ponders for a moment; their answer is an occasion to gauge if this place encourages or antagonizes sins. Increasing the Ether he uses for Prescience, he asks, "Do they value their time over ours? Your lord sounds quite prideful."
The three hostesses'' gazes snap to him, hateful. They calm themselves as quickly as his words angered them and answer in unison. "They care only to ensure equality between their guests."
''That''s quite the reaction. But what rules does this place want us to follow? Avoiding committing one of the seven deadly sins is evident, but should I follow the ten commandments? And what of the Bible, the Koran, the Torah, the Taoism precepts, or even the religions of the otherworld?'' Ethan thinks. His inner thoughts worry him, for he''s guilty of many crimes in all the religions he knows. He''s undeniably a killer, a liar, and a thief, more than once guilty of the sin of wrath.
"Did you find something out?" Ivy asks, still standing beside her chair. She glances back at Fabio, who is stuffing his face with meat. "We should share anything we understand or find."
Ethan presses his tongue against his palate; sharing intelligence with strangers goes against his ways. He glances at the hostesses, ready to decipher their reactions, as ephemeral as they are. "You should eat if you''re hungry and drink if you''re thirsty. But you should stop once you''ve had enough and be thankful for it. This place is judging us, or rather is putting us to the test, to see if we will commit sins when given the opportunity."
The three overseeing women do not react to his warning. Fabio lays down his fork, his food touching his plate for the first time. Muttering in Italian, he joins his hands for a prayer. Ivy seats and serves herself small portions of several appetizing dishes. No one chooses the throne.
They eat in silence, often looking back at the hostesses. Despite their position giving them a view of the entire room, the three women stare in the distance. Once every few minutes, Ethan catches one staring at someone.
The one bearing a ruby continues to focus on Ethan himself. Another''s attention, whose tiara holds an emerald, switches between Fabio and the remaining man. Wearing an amber, the last of the three''s interest lies in Ivy.
''It''s only noon, but they spoke of spending the night. Do they intend to make us sleep here, to test our laziness?'' Ethan thinks. He glances down at Russ, who is watching the room. ''I don''t think religions judge animals, so why did he count as a participant? I need to watch him now that he angers himself easily, plus he would never say no to food.''
Derek''s breaths grow faster. Curious, Ethan switches Prescience for Predator''s sight and sees that all their hearts are beating wildly. Their faces contort as they struggle against their will to eat. The hostesses smirk, returning to their poker faces as they notice Ethan looking at them.
Mikko''s hands tremble as he approaches a glass of wine from his lips, fear clear in his eyes. Throwing sausage down his throat, Grant seems on the edge of throwing up. Ivy hits the table with her fist, rising to her feat as she throws her roast-beef-holding fork in her plate.
''How can it be a sin if your coerced into it?'' Ethan thinks. He visualizes the sigils of the Lightning Bolt spell and pours a sliver of Ether into it. Electricity crackles between his fingers; he sends it into the table''s metallic contour, jolting everyone sat at it. They stand up in shock and let go of their silverware.
"If you all finished your meal, you are free to roam the castle until the lord grants you your audience," they say. "Should you need anything to ensure your wellbeing during your stay, you may call upon us at any time."
"We don''t know your names," Ivy says. She steps away from the table, looking at Ethan''s hand. "You didn''t present yourselves."
"Names are knowledge, and knowledge is power, a power we do not wish to grant you," they say. "To demand our service, you may speak our request in any of the castle''s rooms."
''I wonder how mad they would be if I said their names aloud, curiosity not being a deadly sin. Their aura is stronger than Ivy''s, but still weak, and their armors are made of non-Ether-reinforced steel. I could take them,'' Ethan thinks. He glances at the one bearing a ruby and triggers Insight. "Tisiphone," he reads on the window.
Tisiphone
Lv.20/20 (Fury) Fury
Strength: 19 Charisma: 20
Dexterity: 24 Perception: 19
Constitution: 16 Willpower: 17
Intelligence: 15
Talent
Killers'' tally
Abilities
Chains of guilt (D)
Edge of oblivion (F)
Excruciate (D)
Hunter''s mark (D)
Inventory (F)
Alteration
Servant of the Labyrinth of Death
"I knew it," Mikko exclaims. His gaze moves between the three of them. "You three are the Erinyes, the furies of old Greece. Megaera punishes oath breakers, Alecto those who sin against their family, and Tisiphone the murderers."
''Well, that makes sense,'' Ethan thinks. He notices Ivy recoiling at the mention of Alecto''s duty. Frost coalesces once again in her hand, her gaze aimed at the amber-bearing fury.
"We mean you no harm and only serve the will of the lord," they say in unison. Their sights stay on Ethan, showing not wrath but their annoyance at his meddling. Their wings unfurl, propelling them into the arches of the ceiling. They vanish through passages carved into the walls, behind cornices and decorations.
''It''s a good thing I won''t need to sleep. Might as well explore; it could be seen as sloth if I languished here until they summon us,'' Ethan thinks. He lifts himself from the wall he was leaning on and walks out of the room, returning to the hallway and its many doors.
Chapter 91: Judgement - Part 2
Peering into the Ether, Ethan walks along the hallway to examine each door. Threads of Ether escape one of them, signaling that something powerful lies behind it. He pushes the door open, staring forward with Prescience. Descending stairs await him, their old but pristine stone lit by wall torches.
"Why this one?" Ivy asks from the doorway of the banquet''s hall. She breaks into a jog and joins Ethan, stopping as Russ growls. Raising her uncovered, left hand to her chest, she looks into the stairs. "I can feel it to. Why are you going there when anyone else would flee from whatever holds that much Ether?"
''That much?'' Ethan repeats to himself. Her group seems to have spent time in dungeons. How can she consider it dangerous when she could emit a stronger aura? She seemed so confident outside, a stark contrast to the look of worry she now shows.
Derek and Grant join her as she watches Ethan stepping down the stairs. He hears six pairs of feet following him. The idea of ordering them to go away crosses his mind. ''Having test subjects might be useful,'' the thinks. The awful, intrusive thought makes him smirk.
They enter a wide corridor, its walls holding dusty, moisty books on stone shelves. The poor storage conditions and time washed off the titles. Ethan recognizes some of the spines by their designs; all of them are history books written when the history appended. He pries the driest book near him; its pages fall off, eaten by mold.
Ethan looks back at the small crowd behind him. They stare at him like lost puppies, their eyes begging for him to take charge. As impermeable his mask may be, Ethan''s gaze betrays his annoyance at their assumed helplessness. He thinks, ''Why are you here if you can''t take care of yourselves?''
Worry etches their faces the longer it goes on. Derek is the first to look away, unable to withstand Ethan''s stare. He goes to a shelf and imitates Ethan, his choice equally worthless. He says, "Why store them here? That''s stupid."
"This place doesn''t make sense ¨C the whole castle, I mean," Ethan says. He grabs a torch and moves further into the corridor. A door lies at the end, caved with a six-armed demonic figure bearing three eyes and fangs. A large snake rests on its shoulder, curled around the eastern-looking creature. "Who would have their dining hall a hallway away from the main gate? It had no door leading to a potential kitchen, and the place lacks any form of defense."
A movement in Ethan''s peripheral vision catches his attention, directing it to the door. The snake''s eye stares at him; it wasn''t before. Ethan leaps back, and the stone snake carves itself out of the door. Ethan catches it mid-flight behind the head. ''Strengthening,'' he thinks as he crushes it in his grasp.
The snake grows, bending away Ethan''s fingers. He throws it in the middle of the room. Now half a meter thick and twenty meters long, the snake writhes, its tail carving into the shelves.
Ivy, Grant, and Derek tense, the latter moving forward with his sword drawn. The three other recoil in the stairs, looking with only their heads edging out.
Attracting to her the surrounding Ether, Ivy closes her eyes as frost coalesces on her right hand. The hand chain she carries vibrates, flowing in her Ether.
The snake springs at Ivy. its stone fangs collide with the flat of Derek''s sword. He''s pushes back, his boots scrapping the stone floor until he stops the attack, a meter away from Ivy.
Ethan moves languidly, hiding his strength while still dodging the snake''s tail with Prescience. Russ lunges and barks, unable to bite the stone monster as Ethan holds him by the collar. Frenzied, he struggles to absorb and hold Ether. As worrying as it is, it also means that Russ cannot grow and escape from Ethan''s grasp.
Ivy unleashes a cone of frost, swallowing the snake''s head. While not freezing the stone itself, the spell embeds the monster in thick layers of ice. It loses all flexibility in its upper half and smashes its head into the ground.
Derek pulls out a sledgehammer from his haversack. He consumes his Ether and strikes down, shattering the beast''s upper maw.
Grant grabs something from his own haversack, a plastic pipe sealed at both ends with a fuse jutting out. He lights it up with a lighter and shoves it down the snake''s exposed esophagus. Grant rolls to the ground, avoiding a tail blow before falling back.
Ethan casts Dermal Shield and turns around, protecting Russ behind himself. The pipe bomb detonates into a cacophonic storm of stone shrapnel. Ethan''s ears whistle, the countless echoing sound blasts of the explosion triggering tinnitus. Russ rolls on the ground, pointlessly shielding his ears under his paws.
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The snake''s tail, now a standalone piece, writhes and strikes at Ethan. He places his shielded forearm in the way, the impact cracking the stone. He turns around, furious at the reckless idiot who detonated an explosive in a sealed environment.
"Whooooooo!" Grant screams, his hands high in the air. Turning to dust, the snake''s body leaves behind a headband. It is simple, made of a single curved line covered in carved lotus leaves. Grant rushes to it, excited like a kid.
Ethan grabs Grant by the collar of the armor, lifting him twenty centimeters to make him meet his eyes. Ethan growls, "Are you insane? You are lucky no one was wounded by your stupidity. What if the castle had collapsed on us? What if the shrapnel had killed or even wounded someone? The cowards behind you couldn''t have survived overpressure."
Why is he so angry with that untrained man? The thought lingers in Ethan''s mind until he recalls a similar conversion he was at the other end of. But there is something else at play; he shouldn''t be angry. Could be that just like for gluttony, wrath is encouraged by this place? He lets go of Grant, who falls on his ass. Before the Thief gathers himself, Ethan pries the circlet from the ground, identifying it.
Headband of ??? enlightenment
While wearing the headband, the user feels a profound sense of clarity and heightened awareness. Intelligence +2
???
''It''s just like the Ishai fruit,'' Ethan notes at the sight of the interrogation marks. The hidden adjective in the title puts on edge; this item may hide a nefarious secondary effect. He calls, "Mikko?"
The Nordic man''s head pops out of the staircase. He approaches, stepping past Grant. He stops a few meters away from Ethan, scared of Russ, and says, "Yes?"
"Do you know anything about that guy?" Ethan asks. He moves to the door and shines his torch at the carved figure.
"I''m not sure," Mikko answers, his voice lingering as he approaches. Ethan pulls Russ away to let Mikko have an undisturbed look. His blue eyes scan the sculpture, stopping on its third eye. "I think that''s Mara, the demon that wants to stop Buddha''s from reaching enlightenment. But why would he be in a place linked to death?"
Ivy glances at the books scattered by the snake. She approaches the pair and says, "If this place represents the death of knowledge, it makes sense."
Ethan glances back at the window generated by Identification. "I''d bet that this headband side effect ¨C" The interrogation marks blur before expanding and turning into text.
Headband of false enlightenment
While wearing the headband, the user feels a profound sense of clarity and heightened awareness. Intelligence +2
For every day the headband is worn, it diminishes the user''s intelligence by 1. On the first day, they are charmed by the headband, convinced of their own intellectual superiority. While charmed, the wearer will refuse to remove the headband unless their Willpower allows them to.
"It''s a cursed item," Ivy says as she reads the description over Ethan''s shoulder. She moves towards the door. "We had to force one off of Grant''s finger once before."
"Is that so common?" Ethan asks. Now uninterested in it, he throws the cursed headband to Grant.
"No," Ivy says. She pushes on the door, triggering a clicking mechanism that opens it all the way. Ether wafts into the corridor, sickening Mikko by its density. Ivy grabs him by the shoulder and places him on the side. "We only found one in a dozen magical items. And the people we met didn''t know much about it."
"You met people in a dungeon?" Ethan asks, feinting surprise. He manipulates his own Ether to shield Mikko from the threads whipping at him.
"Not quite in a dungeon, but we did," Dereks says. "When Grant was cursed, we had to flee from the dungeon''s boss; that''s when we found their camp. They are little more than fur-wearing savages who live in tents."
"Communicating was the hard part, but Grant draws pretty well," Ivy continues. "Even though they lacked any notion of what consent is, they helped without asking anything in return. We spent some time with them until we were ready to go back inside."
"We sure taught them what it means," Grant chimes in. Belying of his boastful voice, his gaze, locked on Ethan, is filled with resentment. "Just had to kick a giant jobbie''s sorry ass into the ground."
Ivy stares at Grant with her disapproving stare. "There are better ways to say it, but he''s right. Don''t use bombs indoors; my ears are still ringing."
Grant''s gaze snaps to her in surprise, his expression morphing to shame. How long have they known each other for her words to affect him so deeply?
"Fabio, Andrei, come over here," Ivy says. She motions for Mikko to move further away from the door. She stops them at the center of the corridor with her hand. "Sit down and use this place to learn how to absorb Ether. Close your eyes until you sense threads around you and ¡"
Her voice dies off as Ethan crosses the stone door, entering a large circular room whose walls are lined with smooth obelisks. A statue lies at the center ¨C an obese demon wearing nothing but a loincloth and jewelry. A crater-sized pit surrounds it. Gold coins of innumerous origins, ingots, jewels, paintings, ceremonial weapons, chests, and more.
Ethan steps forward, eyes drawn to the pit of wealth. A deep hum fills the air, louder than anything else. Every glint of a gem, every reflection of a polished surface speaks to him in hushed whispers. His hand tightens on the torch as a magnetic force wraps around his chest, tugging him forward. He has wealth, millions even; he doesn''t need anything from this pit ¨C so why is it calling to him?
Chapter 92: Judgement - Part 3
Resisting the urge to step forward, Ethan closes his eyes and imagines the runes of a Lightning Bolt. With a sliver of Ether, he sends it into his leg, jolting him out of the beaconing trance.
Tackled by Derek, Grant falls to the ground, crawling towards the pit with dilated eyes. His nails scrape against the stone, chipping on it. "Let me! I need it!" he screams.
Ethan maintains the image of the spell''s sigils and throws another lightning arc at Grant. Both contract, Derek''s strength squeezing the air out of Grant''s lungs. He inhales like a drowning victim, turning to his back as Derek stands up.
"You radge," Grant spits. He rolls to his feet, Derek grabbing him by the shoulder. "Can''t stop yourself from hurting me, can you? Nearly crushed me with your bloody spell."
"I saved you," Ethan says. He moves away from the pit, turning around to see Ivy rushing in.
She looks at the scene, her eyes soon drawn to the pit. Russ barks, snapping her out of her nascent trance. She asks, "What''s happening here?"
"Your Thief can''t control himself," Ethan says. The words escaped him as if his thoughts were unregulated. He closes his eyes, examining the closest obelisks'' Ether to distract himself from the conversation.
"Easy for you to say with your costume that costs a month''s pay!" Grant yells. He pushes away Derek''s hand and approaches Ethan. "You rich bastards can''t help yourselves, always looking down on us. What if I need the money?"
"Grant!" Ivy calls. "It is obviously a trap. Just like the food, if you take that money, you''d be guilty of greed. Can''t you see? Why are you so angry? Why am I so angry?"
"It wants to make you say or do something you''ll regret, out of wrath," Ethan guesses aloud. The obelisks'' Ether mimics a slick surface, hiding shifting writings below. It is impossible to read through.
Ivy circles the pit, observing the statue. Behind it, she says, "There is another one here."
Ethan approaches from the other side, keeping an eye on Grant and Derek. The second statue, hidden behind the swollen frame of the first, depicts a man with an effeminate face. A crown rests on its head, golden and inlaid with gems. It sits atop a laid-down dromedary, with demons playing instruments at its sides.
''I recognize neither of them,'' Ethan thinks. He peers into the Ether towards the three who stayed behind. ''And Mikko won''t be able to come here.''
"I think that''s Paimon," Ivy says.
"Paimon as in one of the kings of hell?" Ethan asks. His memories flash with fragments of the Ars Goetia. He skimmed the book in his father''s library but never read it.
"I don¡¯t know," Ivy says. "There''s a character in a game with that name. When you look her up, it also gets you an image of that guy, riding his dromedary."
''Wasn''t he linked to secret knowledge? But dealing with demons requires sacrifices,'' Ethan thinks. He summons a gold coin and flings it into the pit. It tumbles onto a pile, triggering a clattering coin slide. Illuminating the room in a red hue, the eyes of the stone statues fill with crimson light.
A voice appears, omnidirectional, deep, and commanding. "What knowledge do you seek?"
Another voice, more sinister, adds, "Know that asking for more than your offering is worth will have consequences."
Ethan ponders for a moment. What''s the limit of this thing''s knowledge? And how does it gauge the value of knowledge? Such a thing is subjective, as is the value of an offering. He approaches the pit and asks in Eldorian, "What offerings would grant me the knowledge of exactly who the man I spent my life chasing is? His location, weaknesses, allies, and plans."
Ivy''s gaze turns to Ethan, her jaw slightly ajar. The top of an obelisk reveals itself. The English words carved in it read, ''All your possessions and more. Your wealth, your gear, the remedy to your companion''s demise, your power, your knowledge, your memories, and your life force.''
"You just spoke their language," Ivy realizes. Her eyes move to the side as she thinks. Glancing at the answer it gave, she says, "You were surprised when we mentioned the people living outside the dungeon. But you spent time with them, or you wouldn''t know their language. Did you use it to make sure no one here could understand your question?"
Ethan flicks another coin in the pit. The statues repeat their offer, "What knowledge do you seek?"
"What is the Eldorian sigil for the word: burn. And how may it be integrated into a spell?" Ethan asks. The same obelisk uncovers some more, revealing the sigil with its entry and exit points, labeling them as such. "Unless it used the knowledge that I knew to deceive us, it seems honest."
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Ivy''s gaze stays on Ethan, as if she were expecting an answer to her rhetorical question. She takes a handful of silver coins from her haversack and throws them in the pit.
"What knowledge do you seek?"
"How dangerous is that man? Is he a danger to us?" Ivy asks, pointing at Ethan. He tenses at her question ¨C the information could be a danger to him.
"Your meager offering does not scale to the desire you have for this knowledge," the second voice says. Air escapes Ivy as if a blade had pierced her lungs. A red strand shoots out of her, crossing the space to the first statue''s maw. Derek grabs her as she falls to her knees, black veins appearing on her neck.
Another obelisk uncovers itself. ''He is the last moment of thousands who thought themselves unreachable. He is master of murder in all its forms, a manipulator, liar, thief, and betrayer. He wears countless masks and speaks in a thousand voices. He is skilled, patient, relentless, and a being of sheer will. Only if you''re a danger to him by your actions or knowledge will he be a danger to you.''
Grant''s jaw drops as he reads the obelisk. He staggers backward, starring at his newfound fear. Ethan feels a familiar weight in his hand, hidden behind the shadows of his torch. He summoned his Glock inadvertently while reading, only realizing it now.
Ivy''s and Derek''s gazes fall on Ethan, the trio now starring at him. He unsummons his pistol, relieved that this thing didn''t give out his name or even a title.
''Or if you are a target,'' Ethan mentally adds, the missing information making him think. ''This thing didn''t answer thoroughly and left more than one blank that would require another question. And they undoubtedly crave those answers now, heightening their price.''
"I''m sorry," Ivy stammers. She stands up, leaning on Derek''s shoulder. The veins on her neck signal that it consumed a large amount of her life force. Derek takes a vial out and hands it to her, its translucent content swirling with red strands. "I shouldn''t have."
"Don''t ask any further. You wouldn''t want to pay the price for it either way," Ethan says. He approaches from the obelisk that answered his questions.
"Intimidation leveled up."
''I can''t risk asking something that will drain my life force. Beside the furies, there is nothing here I could regenerate it from, if the blade even endures. I should at least use the occasion to obtain something I don''t particularly value, but that will still be useful,'' Ethan thinks. He summons the rest of his gold coins, adding the ring of ice transmutation. ''It would be a lot in the otherworld, but not to me. Should I add an item I have use for?''
"If you don''t mind us hearing your question, I could ask it for you," Ivy says. She approaches, holding her hands in front of her. The black veins on her neck are receding. "If the price we pay depends on our desire to get an answer, it wouldn''t cost me much."
Ethan turns to her, contemplating her idea. It is tempting. Is she proposing that in hope of getting on his good side? Even without predator''s sight, he can see her heart rushing, throbbing a vein in her neck. She''s terrified of him. How many times has he seen that look? Dozens, perhaps hundreds. It appears on all the bystanders who witness him working.
Ethan flicks a coin in the pit, and the statues repeat their offer. He asks in Eldorian, "What offerings would grant her the knowledge of my father''s killer location, weaknesses, allies, and plans?"
''The worth of feeling a little safer,'' the new part of his obelisk reads. The answer tightens Ethan''s chest. This means he could know, but the risk of them uncovering too much gnaws at him. Only in death could he trust them to keep a secret, and he has no desire to kill them. They aren''t the monsters he hunts, and unless they deceived everyone, they are just wannabe adventurers.
"We won''t tell anyone," Ivy says. Her strange ability to read Ethan irritates him. Or is it just a logical conclusion? She steps forward, still holding her hands before her, but stays several paces away. "I''m sorry I asked what I did. Let me make it up to you."
''She''s strangely calm,'' Ethan thinks. It surprises him; most people can''t think straight when their bodies are in a panic. He''d have to word the question in a way to conceal any identifying information, but then he could receive an imprecise or incomplete answer. Besides, he doesn''t trust this place. He summons five of his demonic Ether crystals, adding them to the offering his holds. "There is someone in this labyrinth who can answer my questions. No need for you to put yourself in danger."
"Then what do you want to ask with that?" Ivy asks, pointing at the objects in his arm.
Ethan lowers everything into the pit, careful not to break the crystals. As the voice finishes its line, he says, "Teach me spells of equal value to the offerings I gave."
A large surge of Ether bursts from under his obelisk. It sips into it, carving Aetherian sigils onto the stone as it uncovers. They burst with light, escaping their medium to rush into Ethan''s mind. Fully uncovered, the obelisk cracks and breaks.
"You learned the Sound Dampening spell. You learned the Mind Shroud spell. You learned the Fear spell," the system announces.
''I thought it would carve the spells, not mimic a spell book. Is it because I used the word: teach?'' Ethan thinks. He straightens up, the light of the sigils leaving his sight.
"Everything alright? It looked like two or three spell books at once," Ivy says.
"I''m fine," Ethan answers. He gazes upon the shattered obelisk. Does it mean he obtained as much knowledge as it will give him, or did it break because of the Ether''s intensity? He circles back around the pit, towards the entry door. He adds, "I''ll find a place to rest; don''t follow me. And don''t ask anything stupid; I can hear through walls."
They gasp in surprise as he turns predator''s sight on. It isn''t a proof of his ability, but it will scare them a little more. Ethan crosses the stone door''s threshold, leaving the room for the corridor holding molding books.
Mikko, Fabio, and Andrei sit there. With their eyes closed, they try to control the threads of Ether touching them. Mikko is the most pitifully proficient of them, succeeding in bringing a thread from his index into his forearm. With no training, Ethan, and even Tombstone, could control Ether threads by visualization alone. Are they lacking something, or is it Ethan who was different?
He passes them, his ears focused on Ivy and her group. The three of them pooling their resources, she asks for spells with the same wording as Ethan. Listening, he thinks, ''Should I have trusted her? It would have been foolish, but I''d be closer. ¡ If only I could.''
Chapter 93: Judgement - Part 4
Amongst the hallway''s doors, Ethan finds stairs leading to the castle''s ramparts. Moats lie below, too deep to see to the bottom. Russ walks beside Ethan. He twitches his head, each time with a snarl. He''s frustrated, or at least it''s the way he usually shows it.
They reach a circular observation platform. Russ lies down under a stone bench, starring at the platform''s entrance. Ethan gazes at the vast, desolate expanse with predator''s sight. He spots a dozen humans, all journeying to the castle. From this spot, he can make out some of their features, searching for Hayes among them. Unable to find him, he thinks, ''He has a fifteen-hour head start on me. Can I even catch up? The wait is killing me.''
Keeping his sight on the ramparts, he sits down on Russ'' stone bench. The cold air gliding over the ramparts carries a scent of rot. Discomfort forming in his throat, Ethan lies down on the bench, below the winds.
Scanning around for any sign of surveillance, Ethan summons his status. He looks to the side at Russ'', but nothing seems to have changed for now.
Ethan Reed
Lv.16 (Harbinger) High-Human
Lv.13/20 (Arsenal)
Strength: 27 + Charisma: 15 +
Dexterity: 23 + Perception: 20 +
Constitution: 26 + Willpower: 26 (24) +
Intelligence: 25 +
Available characteristic points: 6
Talents
Oracle
Pastseer
Rapid martial growth
???
Titles
Dungeon conqueror (D)
First dungeon conqueror (D)
Dungeon conqueror (E)
Dungeon conqueror (F)
First dungeon conqueror (F)
First hunter
Goblin hunter
Hobgoblin hunter
Human hunter
Kin slayer
Kobold hunter
Skeleton hunter
Slayer of the first incursion
Warg hunter
Abilities
Anonymity (E)
Identification (F)
Inventory (F)
Insight (F)
Martial skill echo (F)
Piercing shot (E)
Predator''s sight (E)
Prescience (F)
Silent steps (F)
Spell casting (E)
Strengthening (E)
''I completely missed that I had a new ability,'' Ethan thinks. He looks at it, pondering what it may do. He stands up, stretching lightly. ''Martial skill echo.''
A glowing mist escapes his entire body, forming into a dim specter of himself. It raises its guard, using Ethan''s default hand-to-hand stance for duels.
Russ growls, crawling from under the bench to face the thing. ''Down,'' Ethan orders. Russ obeys, but his eyes stay on the thing as he continues growling.
"That''s remarkably identical to me," Ethan thinks aloud. He throws a punch at it, the specter deflecting with Ethan''s techniques. It follows up with a counterattack, aimed at Ethan''s sternum.
Ethan catches its fist. "You have my technique, but your strength is lacking," Ethan says. He pours more Ether into the connection linking them, the specter''s strength increasing in proportion. ''That''s less effective than Strengthening.''
''Cancel martial skill echo,'' Ethan thinks, loathing how long this is to say or think. The specter vanishes. ''The ability name isn''t unarmed combat echo. So, what if I give it a weapon?''
Ethan retriggers the skill, simultaneously thinking of his M4 to summon it. To his surprise, the rifle appears in the specter''s hands; it assumes a shooting stance, ready to clear the ramparts.
''Go there,'' Ethan thinks, focusing on a far spot. The specter breaks into a run, aiming its rifle as it moves. Russ raises his head, unsure of the order''s meaning.
''Come back,'' Ethan orders, careful not to use Russ'' commands. The specter turns around and runs back to the platform. The fact that it understands natural language is impressive. But how complex could Ethan word his orders? Could he use this thing to cover him with a sniper rifle? Could he order it to poison a drink or place explosives?
''What happens if someone damages it?'' Ethan thinks. Summoning Phantom Reaver, he swings his arm faster than the specter can react. Its head splits from its torso, floating in the air until the specter vanishes. Ethan''s heart contorts, some of his life force escaping from it, vanishing without a trace.
"That was dumb," Ethan blames himself. His M4 vanishes with the entity, returning to his inventory. ''But that''s a good thing to know. Is there a distance limit to its ability to return my weapon? I should test it extensively when I have the time.''
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Ethan looks back at his status. He raises his Strength to thirty and his Perception to twenty-one, keeping two potential points for his Willpower. Ether manifests from thin air, seeping into his muscles, tendons, eyes, ears, and nerves. Still unable to perceive the source of the system''s Ether, he closes the window.
Ethan sits back down, summoning his history book to continue where he left off. The next chapters explore the void left by the war and the many countries that sprout after, including Amberfell. He loses himself to his reading, realizing minutes later that he lost his focus on the outside world.
As a precaution, Ethan triggers predator''s sight to spy on everyone inside the castle. Coming from under, ragged gasps reach Ethan''s ears. He looks down and sees Fabio''s figure squirming on a bed, his heart racing. ''Is he having sex?'' Ethan asks himself. Fabio''s movements and the placement of his hands correspond, but not the fact that no one appears on top of him. Two moaning voices with no seeable sources reach him. ''How hard is it to understand? Don''t commit sins in this place.''
He hears the door leading to the ramparts groaning. A feminine figure steps through, her posture betraying Ivy. She looks beyond the ramparts to the desolated lands as she approaches. She doesn''t seem to be searching for Ethan. Is she seeking some fresh air?
Ivy reaches the platform''s entrance. Russ barks, scaring her. ''Shush,'' Ethan thinks. He twists to sit on the bench rather than lying on it. He locks eyes with her, silently commanding her to go away.
Ivy enters the platform and sits on the opposite bench. She says, "Sorry for earlier."
"You already apologized three times; I think that¡¯s enough," Ethan says. "Where are your bodyguards?"
"With Mikko and Andrei. They wanted to train on their Ether manipulation. And Fabio is searching for a place to sleep; he was tired," Ivy answers.
"Sure," Ethan says, the word escaping him. "I told you to not follow me."
"I didn''t follow you," Ivy retorts. She smiles lightly. "And besides, I don''t think I''m in danger with you around."
"You are the worst judge of character I ever met," Ethan says. Images of the many people he tricked flash in his mind, making him smirk as he realizes she''s not. He places his book down, not wanting her to see him use Inventory. "How is it I don''t scare you?"
Ivy looks down to avoid Ethan''s gaze. Moving her hands against each other, she sighs. "You helped us twice without asking anything in return. No matter what the obelisk referred to, you''re not deranged or mad; that''s the kind of people that scare me."
"Who''s to say I''m not mad?" Ethan says. Once again, he spoke his mind without his usual restraints. This place''s influence is dangerous. He straightens himself, focusing on this conversation and his own words.
"I''ve known enough of them to recognize mad people. Irrational, emotional, violent, and insulting people," Ivy says. She looks down, as if she realized she wouldn''t normally share this either.
"Perhaps we shouldn''t talk. Avoid sharing too much," Ethan says.
"Actually, I came here exactly for that," Ivy begins. "You were the first to understand what this place is about."
"Not entirely," Ethan cuts.
"You might be our best chance to find out how to pass this level," Ivy continues. She fiddles with her thumbs and then says, "Derek didn''t commit any crime before, but Grant and I did. He was a thief, a real one. He stole from jewelry stores; he never killed or even hurt anyone, but it isn''t less of a crime. And I ¡ I ¡ When I was a kid, I ¡ killed my father."
Ethan triggers predator''s sight. Her heart is beating fast; what she did weighs on her. Yet her expression and voice are neutral, devoid of emotion. Is she lying? But to what goal? Ethan shuts down predator''s sight and locks eyes with her.
"My mother lied, and the judge concluded to self-defense. But I attacked him when he had his back turned," Ivy says. Her heart is still racing, throbbing the same vein as before.
"Why?" Ethan asks, the question escaping him.
"I ¡ He drank a lot and be¨C passed his anger on my mom. On that night she was so injured she couldn''t walk, and I couldn''t take it anymore," Ivy says.
"I don''t know what to tell you. Not about what you did, but about its impact on whatever the next trial is," Ethan says.
"Could it be that it will judge us on everything we did? That''s how it works in religions from Christianity to old Egypt," Ivy asks.
"If this place judges past crimes, or even just deadly sins, no one can pass it," Ethan says. "What child didn''t steal something out of envy, even if it''s candy in their parents'' cupboard? Who never wanted more than they had? Who never did anything reprehensible in anger? The weird part about this place is that it coerces into committing sins. I doubt it works with our laws, but being in control of yourself is necessary to be guilty of a crime."
''I don''t feel guilty of anything I did, but I was clearly conscious of every crime I committed,'' Ethan thinks. His own heart rate rises. Could it be that only the pure of heart can pass this trial?
"What if instead of resisting the urge, people gave into it? Would they be guilty then?" Ivy asks. Her heart calms. Her body returned to the calm state her mind never left, making Ethan ponder if she was somehow faking it.
"Most likely," Ethan answers. It cannot be all there is to it; otherwise, why would the furies eye those they are supposed to punish?
"Thank you," Ivy says. "I don''t know exactly what you are, but I feel like we can trust you."
"I''m only taking care of the both of us. If I save someone else in the process, it''s a happy side effect," Ethan says. How can someone say that after reading the obelisk''s answer? Unless this is a failed attempt at charm, she is far too trustful for her own good. He picks up the history book and resumes his reading, making it clear that the conversation ends there.
Ivy stands up, a light smile on her face. Dusting herself, she walks off the platform, towards the door leading downstairs. She gasps right before Russ begins to growl.
Alecto''s sabatons echo from the door as she approaches with her hands behind her back. Ethan stands up, grabbing Russ'' collar in prevention.
Ivy steps back, reentering the platform and placing herself further away than Ethan. Frost coalesces around her hand as she draws Ether from the surroundings.
Alecto stops a few paces away. "The lord is awaiting you," she says. Without waiting for an acknowledgement, she turns on her heels and walks back to the door.
Chapter 94: Judgement - Part 5
''I''m running out of time,'' Ethan thinks. Following Alecto, they descend the stairs to the main hallway, where they rejoin with everyone else. Ethan''s mind races. If the only things that matter are the sins committed in this place, only Fabio will be on the hook. If their entire life is judged, who could pass? ''Why do we have to enter in groups of eight? Is it only to provide targets for the anger it tries to entice?''
Ivy''s hand shivers, or rather, her whole body shakes. Her heart races, veins pulsating below her skin.
Grant stares at Ethan, terrified. Could it be that he fears being killed on a whim? Ivy made it easier with the information she revealed, but Ethan doesn''t need him dead unless he acts against him.
The stairs leading to the door bearing the sculpture of Cain and Abel groan. The steps break away from each other, descending to form a reversed staircase. Through the darkness, Ethan can see a stone door with another illustration ¨C a carving of The Last Judgment.
Mikko freezes for a moment, staring at the copy of Michelangelo''s work. Ivy stops too. She grasps her uncovered hand with the other, trying to stop herself from shaking. Derek places a hand on her shoulder, worried.
The furies line the edges of the stairs, clicking their sabatons as they straighten with their hands held behind their backs. They all say, "They are awaiting you."
Derek leaves Ivy''s side and descends first. He places his right hand over his thigh, his fingers ready to unholster an inexistent handgun. Likely realizing it, he relaxes his fingers and places his other hand on the handle of his sword.
''Since we entered this place, I have been stronger than anything the labyrinth threw at us. The most dangerous beings here are the Wolves.'' Ethan thinks. He steps down the stairs, Russ following. ''Whatever this lord is, it''s possible that I could fight my way through. The furies will attack me if I try anything, but that won''t be a problem if they share characteristics.''
A large circular room awaits them, around thirty meters wide. Half of the walls, like an amphitheater, hold stone tribunes. A disproportionate judge''s bench lies on the other side, opposite of the room''s entrance. There are no other doors or paths leading away from the room.
As the furies enter last, the door closes and the stairs behind grind, closing the sole escape route.
All but Derek and Ethan shiver in stress. The furies motion towards the stone tribunes, silently ordering them to sit. It takes some time for everyone to take place. Besides Russ'' growls, only the furies'' sabatons make any sound.
A dark smoke rises from behind the bench; it takes a humanoid shape and condenses into a giant creature. A flowing robe of dark linen drapes its body. Glowing in the light of torches, golden runes, and glyphs of Nordic and Egyptian origin garnish its attire. A scale is embroidered on its robe, broken in half by the opening revealing its upper chest. A Britannic bench wig frames a black jackal head with a long, braided goatee, its eyes glowing red.
''He''s ugly. And what is this patchwork of myths?'' Ethan thinks. He glances at the humans around him and sees them staring at the thing in fear. Were they expecting something less intimidating?
The furies bow to the creature. With both of its hands already on the bench, it raises a third to its maw, a large cigar between its fingers. The shift of its attire reveals that he still hides a fourth arm behind the bench. It snaps its fingers; a flame forms on its thumb, with which it ignites its cigar. It puffs clouds of gray, flooding the room in their scent.
The smoke burns Ethan''s lungs more than it should; it''s bearable but makes breathing painful. Everyone else cough, bending in pain with each expulsion of smoke. Russ covers his snout, coughing through his nostrils.
With the cancerous voice of a lifelong smoker, the judge finally speaks. "At last, the last defendants reached my doors. You shall excuse the wait." It vanishes into black smoke.
The walls behind the bench split and fall down, revealing a titanic room. Their now small room is connected to a larger disc-like platform by narrow stone bridges. Seven other rooms, such as theirs, circle the central platform. Each holds eight people, all staring at the endless void surrounding the bridges.
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The bench floats towards the center; it connects with seven others, forming a circular bench hovering above the platform. The creature reappears up there, eyeing each room one by one.
The furies fly off to the central platform, placing themselves under the bench.
It announces, "And thus, all the necessary lost souls finally joined my house." It draws on its cigar and exhales more smoke. "Your civilization sins so much that none may pass my trial. But if none are given the opportunity to ascend, I would fail at my task. Thus, eight may succeed while the others will fall to the torments of purgatory."
Yells escape from the other rooms, inaudible from Ethan''s position. He triggers predator''s sight, not to hear their complaints but to scan their faces. He searches for Hayes but once again fails to spot him. He thinks, ''Even if people are brought here in batches of sixty-four, he probably came way ahead of me. And I doubt he could be said to be sinless, being a company owner on earth and either a tyrant or a traitor on the other side.''
Derek booms, "What a load of crap!" His voice echoes through the massive chamber, drawing the attention of not only their group but the figures in the other rooms as well.
Ivy tenses, her worried eyes staring at Derek.
Derek continues, "Judging people by irrelevant standards of religions from a time when slavery was normal? A smoking judge acting like he''s sentencing us at the back of a front, between two lines. You don''t even have a singular identity; your religions contradict each other and punish what others consider mundane. How can you claim authority when you represent nothing of our laws?"
The room falls silent, the furies stiffening. The lord pauses mid-puff, its red eyes glowing. For a moment, the creature seems amused, as a low chuckle reverberates.
"You presume to question powers far beyond you," the lord finally says. "Do you believe you are above judgment, or is it the delusion of superiority that feeds your insolence?"
Derek''s face stays defiant. "Real justice has standards ¨C accountability, fairness. How is it that you dare judge us on laws that we do not know?"
"Ignorance of the law isn''t a valid defense. You, of all defendants, should know that," the lord retorts.
"Not when you fail to provide it. What tells us that you won''t make it on the spot to fail those you want? Where is our defense? Where is our jury of peers?"
Megaera leaps forward, closing the distance with a speed the others can''t follow, yet languidly in Ethan''s eyes. She summons a black, thin, long sword in her hand and places its blade under Derek''s throat. The fury commands, "Mind your tongue when addressing the lord. The next insult will cost you your life."
"My point exactly," Derek quips. She twitches her blade, but he stays immobile, staring at her.
Ethan peers into the Ether and realizes that her blade holds none of it. Just like her armor, it is nothing in comparison to even his dagger. He could slice it with ease. Tisiphone''s seething gaze falls on Ethan as he visualizes his fight with her sister. He ponders, ''Can her talent tell her when someone is thinking of killing? I''ll have to act without premeditation, or she might alarm them.''
"Does this mean that eight of all sixty-four people may pass, or that a room will?" Ivy ponders aloud. It breaks the tension, and the fury returns to her post. Her question makes Grant look at Ethan.
The lord exhales and continues, "One by one, you will present a candidate amongst your cohort, or one will be designated should you fail to choose."
Ethan''s heart hastens, not in fear for himself but for Russ. He scans the scene and estimates that, if necessary, he could leap to the lord''s bench. But with so many people here, isn''t it expected of them to gang up on the thing? Or is it so strong that no amount of enemies could defeat the lord?
"They will engage in a game of my creation," the lord continues. A game? Derek is right; this thing will not judge anyone fairly and will do as it pleases. But Ethan feels he cannot act now; he ignores too much of the thing''s abilities. And perhaps the game is a skill-based one he could win. "One where they ¨C"
A roar cuts the lord, rushing from one of the rooms. Two men run down the bridge, one armed with a mace and shield and the other with a decorated bow. The later arms a shot; light shines from the arrow''s tip, turning into a beam as he releases the string.
The lord raises a hand, forming a disk-like shield in the arrow''s path. It blocks the strike but cracks; the arrow spins in the air, its momentum broken. It hurls a fist at the bench, the impact echoing.
Megaera rushes to them. She leaps in the air, spinning to avoid a mace blow, and passes beyond the first man''s shield. She summons a blade like her sister''s and slits his throat with little force. The archer arms another shot, but she grabs his bow and twists it away from his grip. With a flap of her wings, she impales her knee in his chest, bringing him to the ground.
The man turns and stares at her, a dumfounded expression on his face. Ethan catches a smirk on Alecto''s face. He ponders, ''Did they try because they thought they couldn''t pass anyway, or did the furies convince them to do it?''
The lord booms, "For your greed in exploiting others who sought nothing but escaping their condition. For your wrath in beating the one who sought shelter in your love. And for your lust in bedding another than your wife, I condemn you to purgatory!"
Blinding light engulfs the man; he vanishes without a trace. The rooms fall silent, their occupants'' faces etched by fear. Some who hefted their weapons lower them, courage leaving their minds.
Ethan thinks, ''It only spoke of deadly sins, but that thing condemned him for sins he committed outside the castle.''
Chapter 95: Judgement - Part 6
The lord straightens its posture and picks up its cigar from the bench, where it fell in its surprise. It puffs once again, leaving time for everyone to calm down.
Megaera pushes the body of the mace-wielding man with her foot, dropping it into the darkness below. Ethan expects a thud that never comes even through predator''s sight. He mentally estimates, ''At terminal velocity, the body would travel over fifty meters per second. It''s already past the height we climbed to enter this place. Just how deep is this building?''
Twenty seconds pass before the lord breaks the silence. "Now that we have been ridden of the fools amongst you, I may finally explain how you''ll play for your soul. For each game, you are to elect one amongst your room to partake. If you fail to do so, they will be chosen."
Ethan peers into the Ether and senses multiple presences equivalent to Ivy''s amongst the participants. The lord is concealing its aura, but not well enough to counter Ethan''s Ether perception. Its aura is weaker than Tatiana''s, but something is amidst; the lord isn''t absorbing Ether. Could it be that the cost of the ability it used to disintegrate a target was negligible? Or is it unable to recharge outside of meditation?
''If it''s capable of vaporizing someone without spending a lot of Ether, why did Megaera slay one of them?'' Ethan ponders. ''Any of the other two could have held him if necessary for the lord to declaim his sins. It would have been more ¡ grandiose that way.''
"You''ll enter a stage at the center of which a golden bough awaits. One by one, in an order decided every turn by chance, you''ll move a tile in any of the four main cardinal directions. Moving next to another player will grant you a single attack against them. At the beginning of your turn, you may choose to attack someone next to you, but it will end your turn. Many boons and dangers will await you, and you''ll need to make use of them to be the first to reach the prize. The winner must choose who will receive the chance to ascend. I will judge those who lose," the lord continues. It lifts an hourglass from under its bench, inverting it as it places it down for all to see. "You have until the last grain of sand to choose a participant."
Alecto coughs to clear her voice and translates the information in Chinese. Is there someone in the other rooms who doesn''t speak English?
''Fuck. That''s why they allow animals as participants. It isn''t something Russ can partake in. And where is the list of those game elements? Do we have to test things to see if they will harm us?'' Ethan thinks. His stomach tightens; he will volunteer should Russ be chosen. But winning twice? ''Taking part in the first game is reckless. I should at least wait to see how it unfolds. I doubt anyone will volunteer anyway.''
"The majority chose you; get to the platform," Alecto commands in Chinese from one of the bridges. It isn''t an exact understanding of her words, Ethan filling up the gaps. An Asian man looks left and right, confused.
''I see; they chose him,'' Ethan thinks. He glances at those around him. They are frozen, oblivious to what transpired in the other room. Worry creeps in Ethan''s mind. Ivy''s group knows what he is; they could decide to get rid of him. Or worse, they could all elect to send Russ. Would it be enough, or even allowed, to coerce them not to?
The hourglass runs out. The furies fly to different rooms and call out names. The people they order to join the central platform refuse. They recoil until their doors block their escape route. Megaera throws her chosen across the bridge. He lands with the cracks of breaking bones. Staring at him squirming on the stone ground, the others agree to move of their own volition.
Tisiphone lands in Ethan''s room. Ethan''s heart hastens outside of his control. Ivy and Mikko hold their breaths while the others'' quicken. They stare at her except for Russ, who scratches the back of his left ear.
"Grant Dawson," Tisiphone calls. Her predatory stare finds him as she pronounces his last name.
He takes a step back. Looking at the man still unable to stand, his right leg broken at the tibia, he exits the tribune and moves forward.
Ivy follows him with her gaze. She looks worried, but Ethan notices that her body calms down at once. She''s relieved that it wasn''t her; who wouldn''t be? But contrary to her or Ethan, the others stay affected by the stress they experienced for longer.
The last participant enters the arena. Its ground shines, rising into walls, decors, chests, and a pedestal holding the golden bough. Ethan recalls, ''It looks like One''s little decor for the game we played. And from here they all resemble pawns.''
The furies fly upward before landing on the walls, giving them a view of every player. They all stand in the middle of a square tile, wide enough to hold them but not so much as to be out of reach of an attack coming from an adjacent tile.
The lord leans over the bench to scan the stage below. "Cheating in any way will be punished. This includes acting out of turn, disrespecting your movement restrictions, using abilities outside of the permitted attacks, or attacking more times than allowed to."
It pauses, letting its words sink into the audience. Its gaze moves from one competitor to the next. "Remember, you are playing for your life. Mercy and hesitation are not welcomed here."
Twenty faced dices, the size of soccer balls, appear next to them and roll to their feet. Grant, who''s standing next to a tile holding a small chest, obtains the highest score with a twenty.
''What happens if there is a tie?'' Ethan ponders. It isn''t the case this round. ''They are not all equidistant from the bough and can''t see it right now. It is in an isolated room, a bit off center. Is its position random?''
The number on Grant''s dice shines. He glances at the furies and the lord with a questioning look. "What does this mean?"
"Your dice will shine once it is your turn to play," Alecto explains. She turns her head to the Asian player and relays the same information in Chinese.
Grant moves to the chest and, with a hesitant hand, opens its lid. A card rests at its bottom, bearing an illustration of a running man and some text. "Passive, you may move two tiles on your turn," Grant mutters to himself.
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"Passive cards'' effects only apply from the beginning of your next turn," Alecto clarifies. Once again, she reiterates in Chinese.
Another player''s dice shines. The man, who was thrown by the fury, holds his bleeding leg, the bone jutting out. He doesn''t notice the glowing numbers and seems like he''s about to lose consciousness.
A silence hangs for a moment. Tisiphone walks down the wall section leading to the man. "As you are unable to continue playing, we have no other choice than to eliminate you," she says. She jumps down, summoning her blade and pointing it downward. The tip pierces the man''s throat, ending his life.
The crowd gasps. Around himself, Ethan sees Mikko, Ivy, and Fabio shaking. Derek seems to be the only one unaffected.
The other players move one by one. The last of them, a woman, opens a chest and pulls out a card. It reads, ''Action, summon a Hobgoblin two tiles away from another player.''
"Actions may be played on the turn you loot them at," Alecto says in both languages.
"I want to use it," the woman informs. The card vanishes and a wall bursts, a Hobgoblin forming from the dust. It lands two tiles away from a player, who, in surprise, steps backward to another tile.
Tisiphone lands behind him, her sword summoned. She swings, and he parries with a Draugr''s sword. She''s too fast for him; before he can counter, she kicks his knee and uses the pain and distraction to place her blade along his throat. With a slow movement, she slides the edge against his flesh, cutting through to his spine.
The dices turn into coal-like dust, and a new series appears above the remaining players. Another dice manifest above the Hobgoblin. Ethan only realizes now that the monster stayed on its tile. ''Is it a player too? Could it take the bough and win?''
The dices roll once more, thudding against the arena floor. Grant stares at the number, almost as if he could alter the result with his will. His dice lands on an eight, last in the order. Once again, there are no doubles in sight.
On its turn, the Hobgoblin moves a single tile towards the nearest player. Its dead eyes seem devoid of any kind of emotion as it stares into the void.
As his number finally shines, Grant looks around. He can see the woman who summoned the monster a dozen tiles away. A chest lies two tiles from him, opposite to her direction. He moves to it and eagerly opens its lid.
A card rises from it, levitating in the air to Grant''s eye level. ''Trap, Judgement.''
The lord brings its cigar to its maw and draws on it. "For your greed in stealing that which wasn''t yours and your sloth in wasting years of your life to spirits and drugs, I condemn you to purgatory!"
In a flash of light, Grant disappears from the arena. He didn''t make a sound, even from Ethan''s enhanced point of view. No scream, no pain, no burning, no sublimation. He vanished without a trace.
This time, Ethan was peering into the Ether as it happened. No Ether left the lord; it appeared around Grant in vast quantities. Like for characteristic upgrades, it seemed to come from nowhere. ''Can this thing somehow control the system?''
Derek stares at where Grant was before raising his gaze to the lord. Tisiphone''s attention falls on him, but everyone can tell he''s seething. Slivers of life force escape into his Ether, strengthening his unconcealed aura.
"I''m sorry," Ivy whispers. The words break Derek''s choler, and he looks back to her. Only Derek and Ethan can hear her. "I insisted we came here. I thought it would be like the dungeons ¨C simple monster hunting. I''m sorry."
"It''s not your fault; we both knew that we could¡ die any time we entered a dungeon," Derek whispers back. He leans forward, his gaze turning back to the lord. "It looked like teleportation."
"What?" Ivy exclaims.
Derek whispers, "When the lord condemns someone, it looks a lot like a dungeon teleportation."
''I''ve never seen someone else teleport without doing so myself,'' Ethan recalls.
The game continues. The participants find cards after cards. They allow them to move faster, locate the bough, summon or destroy monsters, move other players, and more.
The hobgoblin, now boosted by two of the woman''s cards, rushes three tiles to stop next to the Chinese man. It swings a club at him. The man rolls to the side, avoiding the blow but landing on the adjacent tile.
"For your greed in selling dangerous and toxic creations as remedies to others'' ailments, I condemn you to purgatory!" the lord booms. Light englobes the man, and he vanishes.
''Why kill some participants and condemn others? And how is it that on the forty-something rolls, none tied? Is the lord cheating?'' Ethan ponders.
The woman, now one of two remaining participants, uses a card to exceptionally move five tiles. She reaches the bough and lifts it off the pedestal.
The lord draws on its unending cigar. "My congratulations. Now, choose who will be given a chance to ascend."
"Me, I choose me," the winner answers.
Light englobes her, and in an instant she''s no more. The crowd gasps. This looked no different than the fate of the condemned. Could it be that this entire game is a trap, a hoax leading to the same fate?
''If she was teleported to the next trial, then Derek would be right; the condemned could also be teleported rather than killed,'' Ethan thinks.
"As to you," the lord booms towards the remaining player. "For your envy in destroying your brother''s marriage to strip him of the love you never knew, I condemn you to purgatory!"
The arena vanishes with the man and the monsters. The lord turns back the hourglass. "You have until the last grain of sand to choose a participant."
The tension in the room is palpable; a lot of them are still shaking from the deaths that occurred before them. The furies kick the corpses into the void. Ethan stares as the grains of sand descend one after the other.
''It would be safer to play the last two games,'' Ethan thinks. ''But the chances of me and Russ remaining unselected are thin.''
Megaera lands near their platform. Her eyes narrow in on Fabio, her wings spreading slightly. The sand runs out, and without a break, she lifts her arm to point towards him. "Fabio Olivera, you''ve been chosen."
The blood drains from Fabio''s face, his leg almost buckling beneath him. "No, please¡," he whispers. In his stress, he fiddles with a golden ring on his left ring finger. Megaera moves forward to grab him, but he avoids her and starts walking down the bridge.
The arena transforms once more. The aesthetic stays the same, but the walls, chests, and bough positions all changed.
Turn after turn, they move through the maze. Warned by the first game, they make sure not to break any of the rules even when hit by monsters and traps. Or at least they try, as one rolls to the ground, consumed by a woman''s Flamme spell.
Fabio finds himself at the edge of the bough room, two tiles away from the prize. His last adversary stands four tiles in front of him, and it is his turn.
The man approaches forward two tiles, just as many as Fabio can move. He shows a card and says, "I want to summon a wall in front of him." The ground rumbles, and a solid one-tile-wide stone wall bursts forth, cutting off Fabio''s path. The other man gives the wall a cold smile, confident in his victory.
The dices fall once again, and Fabio plays first. He moves left and forward, placing himself next to the man. He swings his Draugr''s mace to the man''s head, but he blocks with his forearm. His bones break under the impact, and he falls to the ground. A passive card allows Fabio another strike, and he aims once again for the head. The man shields himself with his other arm, sacrificing it in the same way.
The wounded''s dice shines, and he stands back up to stumble towards the bough. "I choose me," he cries, the pain seeping in his voice. The lord stays silent. The man grabs the golden prize between his teeth and reiterates. "I choose me!" Light envelops him, taking him away.
The lord''s gaze falls on Fabio. "For your gluttony in gorging in my charity, I condemn you to purgatory!" Fabio falls backwards as light envelops him, making him vanish from existence.
''It lied,'' Ethan realizes.
Chapter 96: Judgement - Part 7
"You have until the last grain of sand to choose a participant," the lord says. The arena melts as it turns its hourglass, returning to a flat stone platform dotted by corpses and blood.
''If I am right, this entire thing is a ploy to kill as many as it can,'' Ethan thinks. ''Giving them a shard of hope in winning the game to avoid being attacked by everybody at once. But in that case, wouldn''t it be easier for it to play a single round with each eight member groups?''
This time, a man moves out of a room on his own. Unless it escaped Ethan, this game is based on chance, if not entirely rigged. Did he find a pattern in the loots? Or does he think he could start closer by moving in first?
Ivy begins to shake again. Each game sees the chance of being chosen rising, but in the end, everyone would get to play. Mikko leans forward, his gaze lost to the void. He looks absent, taken by the stress and fear.
Derek opens a system window ¨C his status, it seems. His jaw hangs slightly as he sees Grant''s side status still appearing along his. His surprise turns back to a neutral face. Does he not know if party statuses vanish upon a member''s death? Or did he just decide to not share the information with Ivy, in fear that she may choose to get to purgatory in search for Grant?
Ethan''s gaze moves to the lord. A crooked smile on its canine maw, he glances from one room to the next. Ethan''s knuckles grow white as he clenches his fists. That''s the smile of those who destroy others for their own satisfaction ¨C the kind of predator that enjoys their victims'' suffering.
The sand finishes its downfall. The furies fly off to the rooms, and Tisiphone lands in theirs. She looks at Ivy, her gaze birthing a shiver that travels up Ivy''s spine.
Derek moves to Ivy''s left, placing himself between her and the fury. Does he plan to win twice to save them both? Seeing his intentions, Tisiphone eyes move away from her.
"Eth¡ª" Tisiphone begins. Ethan''s heart ignites. He bursts forward, the stone cracking beneath his feet. Her head falls from her body, rolling on the floor with metallic echoes. Mid-summon, Phantom Reaver sliced through her armor, leaving a glowing cut around her neck.
Ivy gasps, her gaze shifting from Ethan to the lord.
Mikko''s eyes widen. He inhales sharply, crawling away from the severed head that rolls to his feet.
"What is this?! Sins in my domain?!" the lord bellows. It hammers its bench. The lord''s gaze locks on Ethan, its eyes filling with fire. The sight of burning eyes takes Ethan aback. Her corpse turns to dust, leaving her armor behind.
"Are you going to condemn me? After all, I just killed that monster only because I didn''t want her to say my name," Ethan boasts. He enters the bridge, tapping the blade on his shoulder. "Or can''t you because I don''t regret it."
"What do you mean?" Derek asks. He moves forward, only stopping as he sees Ethan''s hand motioning for him to stay back.
"I think they only hold as much power as we allow them to," Ethan says. "You enumerated Grant''s sins before sentencing him. But when it came to Fabio, you only mentioned gluttony. We know he felt guilty about it because he prayed for forgiveness after I told them it could be a trap. But I know he, a married man, spent the night with several guests you planted. And yet, even if he partook in a threesome in your house, you didn''t condemn his lust."
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The lord fury grows; it grabs its marble bench, its grip cracking it. "You are the worst sinner that walked the halls of my castle! Thousands lie dead in the dirt because of you!"
"And yet I feel no guilt for any of the monsters I killed, especially not in my wrath. That''s why your game kills some participants and judges others. The initiative and cards aren''t random. In truth, many of the people here could pass your judgment," Ethan retorts. He''s now convinced that the lord cannot condemn him, but he cannot be certain for Russ. He clenches his jaw, searching for something that will guarantee him all the lord''s attention. "The system seems to have a thing for people achieving unattained feats. I wonder if anyone ever killed you."
The lord places a hand over where his heart should be. Their ability to nullify predator''s sight stops Ethan from asserting their biology and weaknesses. Moreover, the lord teleported before, and even if it takes a few seconds, Ethan will have to strike fast the moment he reaches it.
''Prescience,'' Ethan thinks. He glances at the rooms and sees that no one is following his example. Good. They would be a nuisance on this soon-to-be battlefield.
The two remaining furies break into a charge. Alecto kicks the ground, leaping above Ethan to land behind him and flank him with her sister.
"Martial echo," Ethan thinks, visualizing Zhiznezhret at the same time. Glowing mist emerges from his back, forming into a specter of himself. Its blade grows into a great sword, in time to block Alecto''s blade as Ethan parries Megaera.
The furies recoil, the strengths they met unyielding. Alecto swings at the ghost, but it vanishes as Ethan cancels his summon. His blade pierces through the disappearing mist, behind Alecto''s swing, and pierces her stomach.
Megaera screams and slashes at Ethan''s side, but he hurls her sister by the flat of his blade, striking her in the chest. The impact throws Megaera backward, Alecto following as she slides off the sword. Their armors scrape against the stone ground until they grind to a halt.
The lord raises a hand, its palm spread. Bathing the arena in light, a spear springs from its palm, haunting-green and whistling. It embeds into the ground where Ethan was, decaying the stone it pierces.
''Strengthening.'' Ethan bursts forward, slashing at Megaera as she stands up. She doesn''t react in time, the blade sectioning her torso into halves. In the prolonging of his attack, Ethan coats his blade in fire and leaps on the lord''s bench, aiming his flames at its neck.
The lord opposes his hand to the searing wave, summoning a circular shield in its path. The flames split on its surface, hitting the ground and ceiling in bright bursts.
Ethan kicks the bench to fly into the lord''s shield and chains a horizontal slash. Phantom Reaver cuts through the shield as if breaking thin glass. The blade strikes the lord''s hand, slicing four of his enormous fingers.
The lord hurls its other hands at Ethan; they burst with roaring green fire, spreading death Ether on their path to catch Ethan. Thorny vines sprout from the bench, catching and locking the approaching hands in place. Ivy gasps as her spell drains her Ether, the thorns growing into the lord''s flesh.
The fingerless hand strikes Ethan in the chest, but he catches it and twists to propel himself onto the lord''s shoulder. Ethan breathes in deep, directing ambient Ether into his Strengthening and tensing for a beheading strike.
"I condemn ¨C" the lord begins. Ethan swings prematurely, his blade and flames stopped by the lord''s flesh. He forces his way through, the edge cutting slowly. "¨C you to purgatory for the wrath you bore when attacking your master," the lord says, its voice filling with pain.
Light escapes the room Ethan came from. He turns his head in time to see Russ'' form disappearing into it. He yelps in Ethan''s mind, scared. In an instant, he vanishes with the light. Yet the terrified yelps endure, distorted and sharper than they should be.
Ethan''s life force rushes into his Ether as his sight tunnels towards the lord. But a thought crosses Ethan''s mind; he fell in the lord''s trap, his anger and wrath a danger to him. It is not guilt but an admission of the wrongness of his emotions. As instantaneous and ephemeral as his thought was, it suffices. "I condemn you to purgatory for your untamed wrath, you primitive, violent, inhuman beast."
Light engulfs Ethan, but in his last moment in this place, he swings with all his might. His flames, turned blue by his life force, melt the lord''s skin as if it were ice. Ethan fails to see the result, but he knows that his attack landed, his hands feeling the failure of the lord''s flesh and the toughness of its spine.
"You leveled up. Melee Weapon (Long Sword) leveled up (x3). You completed your third trial of the Labyrinth of Death, the Judge."
Chapter 97: Purgatory
Sulphur rushes into Ethan''s nose and lungs before the light leaves his sight. Winds push him to the side. He lowers his balance, crushing something under his right foot in the process. He sees again; it was a human skull amongst an ochre mountainous ground. Ethan raises his gaze to see a well made of floating rocks bound to each other by gargantuan chains. At the bottom lays a vortex of blood-red mist, seemingly about to swallow the world around him. Above, an island stands amongst the rest, large like a city, and bearing a golden tower reaching above dark clouds.
Staircases made of floating rocks web the islands together, often crossing over the void. A figure treads one of them, leaping from one rock to another, bringing them down and then up as if they were spring loaded.
"Russ!" Ethan yells, his heart thumping. Using his mind to communicate wouldn''t give Russ knowledge of Ethan''s location. But the rational part of his mind regrets the loudness; what kind of monsters lurk here?
A howl comes, carried by the winds and originating from below. Ethan looks down and jumps, aiming for the nearest descending island. His legs absorb the fall, bending fluidly before he breaks into a run to the next edge. The howling grows louder, and Ethan leaps again. He sees him, sitting in the center of an island with his eyes closed, howling like a wolf.
The thud startles Russ, and he looks at Ethan. He rushes forward and jumps on his hind legs to place his paws on Ethan''s chest. "I''m back; I missed you too," Ethan says as he shakes Russ'' ears;
A step echoes on the island, crushing the ochre sand covering the ground against it. A man wearing a crimson jacket over a golden vest stands there, aware of the noise he just made. Holes and tears dot his attire, as if beasts had clawed through them. He looks from his foot to Ethan and Russ. "Friends," he says in a sugar-coated tone.
"You are rushing a few steps here," Ethan retorts, locking eyes with the man. He''s carrying a guitar on his back, a flute in his jacket, and a sheathed dagger behind his waist. ''Prescience.''
"Pretty eyes, what do they do? I hope they''ll tell you I''m not a threat," the man says. He has an accent, betraying an Australian or New Zealand descent. His voice comes hoarse and weak. He raises both hands above his shoulders. "There are enough things wanting us dead down here already."
"What are you talking about?" Ethan asks. He glances left to right, searching for other dangers. He sees a few phantomatic spots in the distance, foresights of other people on distant islands.
"I saw the light above, so I''ll assume you just arrived," the man begins. "Monsters live here; they hide, but when night comes, they emerge by the thousand."
"Thousands?" Ethan asks. "How is it you live to tell the tale?"
The man scoffs, "Oh, I''ve died plenty of times already." Ethan questions his hearing. Did that man just say he¡¯s died, not once but several times? The man goes on, "This place isn¡¯t meant to kill you; it¡¯s meant to make you suffer. And each time you die, you''ll lose a point in every characteristic."
''What would happen if someone reached zero in one of those? I saw monsters with no charisma, but would zero in strength mean you can''t move or even breathe?'' Ethan ponders. This person shares a lot; what are the chances he''s a servant of the labyrinth? ''Insight.''
Rowan Oakhart
Lv.12 (Bard) Human
Strength: 8 (11) Charisma: 21 (24)
Dexterity: 8 (11) Perception: 9 (12)
Constitution: 8 (11) Willpower: 14 (17)
Intelligence: 11 (14)
Titles
Dungeon conqueror (E)
Dungeon conqueror (F)
Abilities
Bardic rift (D)
Dissonance (E)
Inspiration (D)
Alteration
Purgatory shackles (3)
"Satisfied?" Rowan asks.
"It''s a miracle you made it this far in the labyrinth," Ethan comments. "You died three times, didn''t you?"
"Three times indeed," the man confirms. "Every night since I was cast down to this hellish realm."
"Three nights? How did you reach the castle so fast? Wait, it hasn''t been three nights yet," Ethan says.
"It took us two days to reach its doors," Rowan answers. "I left for the labyrinth the moment it invited me. It seemed a timely exit door at the time."
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"You only had a fifteen-hour advance," Ethan thinks aloud. ''There is no difference in time flow between the worlds, but could it be that there is one here? Why? That would explain why Russ'' yelps were sharper.''
A rock falls down from a higher platform, startling the man and Russ. Looking up, Ethan sees the archer who attacked the lord before the game. He''s too far for him to hear them.
"You know him?" the Bard asks as he approaches. Russ growls at him, and he stops, leaving ten meters between them.
"I saw him in the lord''s game," Ethan answers. He looks up to the largest island. "Are we supposed to climb to that tower? It seems important."
"I don''t know. When you reappear, it''s on a random island, high or low. I''ve seen people appear one away from the tower island, and many at the very bottom," Rowan says.
Ethan summons and throws a water bottle at the man. "Thanks for the information," he adds. Ethan scans the levitating bridges and maps out the shortest path leading to the top.
Barely catching the bottle, Rowan unscrews its lid and gulps half of it in seconds. He gasps for air, his voice returning. "Thank you. You can''t imagine how badly I needed some water."
"Good luck," Ethan says. He motions for Russ to jump on his back, and with his furry backpack, he jumps to a floating rock. It dives under their weight but soon returns to its original height.
Ethan leaps from one rock to another, each time taking gigantic, inhuman steps. He can''t drive the spikes of adrenaline from his mind, each dive igniting his heart and scaring Russ. Ethan notices Rowan following at a distance; he''s order of magnitudes slower and seems to gauge each jump.
With a final leap, Ethan lands on another island, slightly more elevated than the previous one. It is flat, except for a rock at its center. Russ jumps down and barks and whines at Ethan; he hated crossing that bridge and makes it known.
"Shush," Ethan commands softly. He wants him to calm down, but his complaint is understandable. How will he react at the next bridge? And at the tenth? Ethan knows he will obey, but not without whining about it.
Ethan looks back and sees Rowan crossing the halfway point. He struggles, his muscles slowly giving up. "Wait!" he yells, the word only reaching Ethan through predator''s sight.
''Just how many tagalongs will I get here?'' Ethan internally laments. A wave parkours the Ether from the center of the island. Ethan turns back towards it.
The rock breaks and rises, standing up as a compact beast of ochre skin with fire drooling out of its toothy maw. Dust cascade down from the humanoid, packed body. Ethan steps back as Russ barks at the thing.
It roars, propelling fire in molten drops along a ground shaking grinder''s noise, and breaks into a run. Something so big shouldn''t move this fast; it charges at the speed of a car, each step webbing the ground below.
Ethan summons Skysong; with Strengthening, he throws the spear at the beast''s leg and pierces its skin. The wound is shallow, yet blue blood seeps out, dripping onto the ground as Skysong falls off.
It thrashes at Ethan and Russ, its hand spreading into four stone talons. Ethan grabs Russ'' collar and dashes to the side. The beast stabs the ground, shaking the island as its fingers dig up to its palm.
Ethan lifts his hand and releases tendrils of darkness that grab the creature. The debilitating hex brings it to the ground, the creature now unable to lift itself. ''Insight,'' he thinks.
Purgatory Golem
Lv.20/20 (Purgatory Golem) Purgatory Golem
Strength: 15 (25) Charisma: 0
Dexterity: 5 Perception: 5
Constitution: 35 (30) Willpower: 10
Intelligence: 1
Abilities
Fire breath (D)
Toughness (D)
Alteration
Constitution boost +5
Strength penalty -10
Servant of the Labyrinth of Death
''Minus ten¡ . I should have used a monster to thoroughly test the hex. Can I see how much strength I gain with Strengthening?'' Ethan thinks. He glances to the side where Rowan is approaching and decides not to open his own status. He summons Phantom Reaver and cuts down the creature''s neck; the blade slices through, ending the monster.
"What the fuck?" Rowan gasps. He jumps from the last rock, landing on the island and falling to his knees. "I wanted to tell you there was one here. But I never imagined someone could kill them. I''ve seen people burned alive by them; no one even hurt one."
"It wasn''t strong," Ethan comments. He unsummons his blade and nudges Russ off the corpse as he bites down on its leg. Russ doesn''t let go, but the thing melts into black dust and vanishes into the ground. It leaves a pair of gauntlets behind. Ethan lifts them off the ground and observes the black plate edged by crimson accents. A topaz is embedded into the back of each hand, a fire burning inside of them. ''Identification.''
Purgatory''s hands
Those gauntlets burst into flame when feed Ether. While they burn others, they protect their wearer against fire.
This weapon has been enchanted with [Heat resistance (D)], and [Durability (E)].
''Not the best I found,'' Ethan thinks. He stashes them into his Inventory and glances back at Rowan. The man struggles to catch his breath. "Is there anything else I should know about this place?"
"There is something on the top island. I don''t know what, but I heard it moving and people screaming when it did," Rowan says. He stands up and dusts himself. "That''s all I know. But please, if you''re going to climb, let me come with you; I can''t survive on my own, but you might be strong enough."
Ethan grinds his teeth, the demand frustrating him. He can hardly explain it, but the people who leech on others annoy him deeply. How could this man be anything but a burden?
Light dims around them. The red swirls below darken, turning a dark shade of purple that emits little light. Rowan steps back, shaking. Claws climb along the edges, their owners soon appearing from them. The dark creatures of unique, grotesque shapes, with dagger-like fangs and crooked claws, snarl at them.
"I hope we meet tomorrow," Rowan stammers. He unsheathes his dagger, the blade shaking in his unsteady hand.
"Russ, guard," Ethan says while motioning towards the frightened man. It''s more to incite him not to rush the beasts, making it easier for Ethan to protect Russ. He circles Rowan, his growls switching between the monsters and the man.
Chapter 98: Purgatory - Part 2
The light vanishes, obscuring the monsters. Ethan visualizes the sigils of the Flame spell and unleashes a scorching wave upon them. The ones his spell swallows writhe on the ground like spiders, their limbs curling inward. He jumps back and spins in the air, spreading fire in a circle around the three of them.
"You can kill them!" Rowan cries, bewildered. He sheathes his dagger and grabs his guitar. He strikes the chords, unleashing a reverb that echoes not only in the air but also in the Ether. Thunderous drums echo from the air along the distorted, grinding guitar riffs.
A monster leaps above the fire and lands at the edge of the fiery arena. It stands on four insectoid, fleshy legs that bend at two articulations. A humanoid head, with black, faceted eyes and a hundred shark teeth, crowns a bulging body of flaccid flesh and chitinous plate. Its arms bend on themselves, like the folded weapons of a praying mantis.
Each note of Rowan''s jagged barrage of sound hit Ethan''s chest with the strength of a sledgehammer, nurturing an animalistic drive. Filling with power, Ethan''s muscles steam as he triggers Strengthening. He cannot stay in place; the energy within him, the song coursing through his veins, urges him to move, to rip and tear.
The monster extends mantis scythes from its arms, their edges dripping with dark ooze. It lunges and slashes wide, but Ethan moves forward. He places himself behind the monster''s reach and blocks its limb at an articulation. It pushes Ethan''s back with its inertia, his shoes dragging on the ground.
Too close, Ethan lets go of Phantom Reaver and summons his dagger. He stabs it at the base of its maw with a strength that digs his arm into the wound. The blade juts through the back of its head, and the monster goes limp.
''Something is wrong,'' Ethan thinks. His draw on the surrounding Ether is lower than it should be because Strengthening refuses to use up more of it. ''I''m as strong as I ever was without using life force; why can''t I go further, at the upmost of my Ether flow?''
Another beast, like an elongated spider, an eight-legged ant with spider eyes and mandibles, jumps in the arena of fire. It bounces off the ground with a speed that catches Ethan off-guard. Its mandibles fall on him, aimed at his shoulders.
Ethan catches them, using his grip to grab the slick, chitinous, dripping spikes. The weight feels like a titanic boulder, his back arching under the pressure held by his abs.
''Those things are much stronger than the golem,'' Ethan realizes. He closes his eyes and focuses on the flow of Ether coursing through him. He imagines the threads of Strengthening bulging, forcing them to transport more Ether.
His muscles, already sculpted beyond human capabilities, grow further. His vest tears at the shoulders, back, biceps, triceps, and forearms while his pants hold by a thread. He pushes back, lifting the beast off the ground, before arching backward and pulling its mandibles apart. With the sound akin to crushing a crab''s shell, the monster splits in halves along its length.
Black ichor falls from the corpse, and Ethan casts a shield; he will not test the toxicity or acidity of their blood with his own skin. He dashes backward, approaching Russ and Rowan as the fire dies down. A hand to the sky, Ethan summons a fireball and shoots it high, shining crimson light over the island.
The beasts, two dozen in total, snarl and screech as they approach. They drag, like predators playing with their prey. The corpses of the one Ethan killed turn into dust, leaving nothing behind.
Ethan re-summons Phantom Reaver and coats the blade in a Flamme spell. His body screams to rush at them, to tear them to pieces in a mindless rampage. This bard''s ability to raise Ethan''s strength is great, but the emotions it imposes on the mind are dangerous.
Ethan dashes at the closest beast. His shoes dig into the ground as he explodes forward. Phantom Reaver cuts through a claw-bearing creature, its segmented body splitting and igniting.
Without pause, Ethan grabs and tears off the monster''s arm. He swings it, hurling the limb into the ranks of its comrades. It crashes into one closing in on Russ and Rowan, knocking it off balance.
Rowan''s music grows louder, its ripples in the Ether swelling into a tempest. Life force seeps into the Bard''s aura, elevating it to new heights. The threads lash at Ethan, but instead of wounding him, they nourish his body. His tendons and skin tingle; his heart pounds, vibrating his chest like a mad gorilla beating its own.
Ethan dashes through the monsters, his speed leaving a trail of fire that cuts through their limbs, torsos, necks, and legs. In an instant, half of them lie dead. Pain surges in Ethan''s ankles, knees, shoulders, elbows, and wrists, the impacts of each cut accumulating damage. He lets go of Strengthening to only rely on Rowan''s song. With his freed influx of Ether, he unsummons his blade and recasts Flame in his right hand; focusing on his mind, he summons Lightning Bolt in his left.
The unrelenting monsters climb over the bodies of their fallen, drawing ever closer. Russ swells in size, finally regaining control over his Ether. He lunges forward and grabs a neck; he tears off the sickening head along its spine in a series of wet pops.
Ethan swallows the close monsters in fire and pierces the farthest ones with bolts of lightning. Their flesh sizzles and bursts under the spells, bringing them one by one to the ground.
A last one rushes through, immune to the heat and electricity. ''Martial skill echo,'' Ethan thinks, visualizing Skysong at the same time. His specter forms in its path and digs his feet into the ground, the spear posed forward. The beast lunges at it, impaling itself in the chest.
Ethan jumps above the creature as he summons Phantom Reaver. In his descent, he cuts through its neck, bringing its head to the ground as its body remains lifted by the spear.
"You leveled up. You leveled up. You leveled up. Russ leveled up. Russ leveled up. Melee Weapon (Dagger) leveled up (x3). Melee Weapon (Long Sword) leveled up (x10). Melee Weapon (Improvised) leveled up (x2). Melee Weapon (Spear) leveled up (x3). Ether manipulation leveled up," the system announces.
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A shiver echoes throughout Ethan''s body as Rowan''s song ends. Ethan''s muscles deflate, and feebleness takes him. He places a knee to the ground as his shoulders fail to hold his arms. Tingles fill his flesh as if blood had been taken from it and then restored. He stands, his strength returning languidly.
''There was a reason I couldn''t go stronger, obviously. But I feel like I could do it again even without a bard,'' Ethan thinks. ''Does this mean there is a cap to characteristics?''
Rowan lowers his guitar, his jaw hanging at the sight of the bloodied mounts. Russ shrinks down, and Rowan lowers a hand to pet him despite the black blood covering his maw.
Russ snaps his head and bites the hand. He pulls, bringing Rowan to the ground. "Drop it!" Ethan commands as he bursts forward. Russ jaws unclench, dropping his arm; he bites down on Rowan''s neck.
Ethan slides his arm under Russ'' throat and squeezes. The neck lock will either make him fall unconscious or he will stop biting down. Russ'' jaws snap shut, crushing Rowan''s spine and squeezing blood out of his body.
Rowan''s lifeless body lies on the blood-soaked ground. Ethan''s breath hitches, his mind replaying the scene, trying to make sense of what happened.
"I''m sorry," Ethan laments. Russ lets go, but Ethan shifts his grip to catch him by the scruff. The man will come back, but an emotion crushes Ethan''s heart. Is it guilt, or could it be that it is fear? This never happened, as Russ was a prolonging of Ethan''s intent, trained for years, and intelligent when it came to knowing who his allies were.
Ethan looks down as Russ finishes sizing down, his heart rate slowing down. He looks up at Ethan and whines, confused on why he is held by the skin. His own heart hastening, Ethan doubts he can release Russ. Could he turn on him once again?
Ethan summons dark tendrils from his fingers, paralyzing Russ. He tunes it to let Russ breathe. He lets go and summons his shade drake coat into his hand. Lifting Russ to his back, Ethan ties him with the coat. He triples checks the knots, the improvised devices holding Russ from the bottom and pressing him against Ethan.
"Sorry," Ethan mutters. How long until the curse ends its course? How long until he can cure him? He looks to the ground as a shiver spreads from deep inside. "Just a little longer; I''ll help you; I promise."
Ethan breaks into a jog and leaps to the next bridge, guided in the darkness by predator''s sight. Monsters manifest along the edges as he lands. ''Martial echo,'' he thinks as he bursts forward. The specter runs in before Ethan, aiming Skysong forward.
The monsters claw their way to the island, screeching and thrashing at the air. The specter impales the one blocking the next bridge and pushes it to the side. Another leaps at Ethan. He ducks and cuts the beast''s chest while gliding on his knees.
Ethan kicks the ground and leaps to the next bridge. ''Cancel Martial echo,'' he thinks, dispelling the specter before the living mass of darkness swallows it.
One after the other, he crosses every island, each time opening a path to rush to the next bridge. Bodies litter the place, left untouched once dead. The monsters'' goal is only to kill; they are not starved predators, but executioners.
Landing on the last island before the largest one, Ethan sees a man sitting on a rock, a last monster vanishing near him. He''s breathless, holding himself upright by leaning on the shaft of his glaive. The weapon freezes the air around its blade, creating a descending curvature of the dim light.
He spares a glance at Ethan before looking back down. He wears heavy armor made of chainmail, cloth, and plates covered in the scaled leather of a large, blue reptile. His lungs struggling, he says, "I''m one bridge away from the end. I hope you don''t plan to attack me; I wouldn''t go down easily."
"Why would I even try that?" Ethan asks.
"You don''t know?" the man growls. His lips draw to a line. "That''s good. Perhaps you''d agree to help me with the next part then."
''I don''t know¡ Is there an advantage to gain from killing another man? A way to remove the shackles?'' Ethan ponders. He approaches but leaves several meters between them. "I guessing you''re referencing the beast living there."
"I am," the man growls. He stands and motions towards the city-sized island. Moldings of humanoid figures cover the tower''s surface; it reaches high into the sky, above a layer of opaque, black clouds. The rest of the island is nothing but a barren land, devoid of life. "I haven''t fought it yet; hell, I haven''t seen it yet. Let me catch my breath, and then we''ll go."
Ethan glances over his shoulder at Russ. His dark eyes look back at Ethan, painful. He unties Russ and lays him on the ground. "Rest," Ethan commands, even though Russ ignores the meaning of the word.
"Wounded?" the man asks.
"Sick," Ethan answers. He sits down on a rock beside Russ and locks gazes with the man. His eyes shift to the dark tendrils linking Ethan and Russ before coming back to Ethan. "If you are strong enough to kill those monsters, I welcome working together. But understand that betraying me or my companion will earn you nothing but a painful end. One your mind will not heal from, shall you come back to life."
The man swallows hard. Pushing against his glaive, he straightens his back to meet Ethan''s eye level but fails, his torso short a good ten centimeters. "I won''t attack you or the dog. I''ve never betrayed anyone, and I don''t intend to start today."
Some of the lord''s condemnations contained twisted secrets; what did this man do? "Why are you here for then?" Ethan asks.
"I''m not proud of it," the man begins. He looks away from Ethan''s cold stare. "But if you must know, I spent years drinking away my pain. I''m here because of my sloth, because I wasted time ¨C time I should have spent with the ones I had left."
The lord made another such judgment during the game for Grant. Ethan realizes he forgot about the man; he must be somewhere below, lying dead for the night.
"I guess you won''t tell me why you''re down here with me," the man says. "The name is Anders, by the way."
"The lord used him to anger me and condemned me for my wrath," Ethan says, nodding towards Russ. "Otherwise, I would have killed them."
"So, you tried to fight them too," Anders says. "I think my party succeeded; I''m the only one they could use their power on."
"When did you enter the labyrinth?" Ethan asks.
"Right when it was announced," Anders answers.
"You didn''t even think about it?"
Anders snorts. He glances at Ethan and explains, "Most people don''t know, but if you are the first to do something grand, the system rewards you with pretty good rewards. So yes, we didn''t think about it."
"What kind of reward?" Ethan asks, feinting ignorance.
"Unique titles and abilities, sometimes characteristic points," Anders answers. He extends his hand, and frost falls from it, dripping like liquid hydrogen. "I got the Permafrost ability by being the first to absorb ice Ether. The funny thing is that the Ether would have killed me if I hadn''t used the ability to control it."
"A bit oversharing," Ethan comments.
"If we are to fight together, we should know each other''s strengths; it will improve our chances," Anders retorts. His gaze falls on Ethan, expecting him to return the favor.
Ethan motions towards Russ. "I can cast a hex that saps a target strength. Otherwise, I am a melee fighter, and I can cast flames."
"I would expect someone strong enough to climb here to have cleared a few dungeons," Anders says. "Very well. Now, let me sleep in peace. We''ll handle whatever is waiting for us when the light comes back."
Before Ethan can argue, he senses Anders falling asleep; the fight must have exhausted him. Ethan''s body is spent, but his mind stays awake. He sits back, letting his muscles rest as he keeps watch of the island.
Chapter 99: Purgatory - Part 3
Ethan presses against the rock to shift his weight; his wrist sparks with a pain that shoots up his forearm. He lifts his hand and looks at it. ''I abused Strengthening. Not only is there a backlash to do so, but I also wounded myself,'' he thinks.
He summons his painkillers and swallows a pill, even if he knows it''s more than he needs for this light pain. With a glance towards Anders, Ethan opens his status.
Ethan Reed
Lv.16 (Harbinger) High-Human
Lv.17/20 (Arsenal)
Strength: 30 + Charisma: 15 +
Dexterity: 23 + Perception: 21 +
Constitution: 26 + Willpower: 26 (24) +
Intelligence: 25 +
Available characteristic points: 4
Talents
Oracle
Pastseer
Rapid martial growth
???
Titles
Dungeon conqueror (D)
First dungeon conqueror (D)
Dungeon conqueror (E)
Dungeon conqueror (F)
First dungeon conqueror (F)
First hunter
Goblin hunter
Hobgoblin hunter
Human hunter
Kin slayer
Kobold hunter
Skeleton hunter
Slayer of the first incursion
Warg hunter
Abilities
Anonymity (E)
Identification (F)
Inventory (F)
Insight (F)
Martial skill echo (F)
Piercing shot (E)
Predator''s sight (E)
Prescience (F)
Silent steps (F)
Spell casting (E)
Strengthening (E)
''Level seventeen already? Wasn''t there a cap related to my skills?'' Ethan ponders. He improves his Constitution to twenty-eight as he glances at Russ'' status, now level nineteen. ''What did Tombstone say when she opened the skill menu? Skills?''
A secondary gray window appears, listing every skill he has and their level. He scans the many melee and ranged weapon skills until he lands on his long sword''s skill at eighty-five. ''It''s the easiest one to raise in this place. I have to get it to a hundred before leaving, otherwise I might get stuck for some time. I wonder if I could learn in a school. This feels so natural to me now; I would but heads with a teacher when he tries to remove my ''bad'' habits."
Ethan''s eyes grow heavy, and he closes his status. He shakes his head to cast the sudden exhaustion away. A figure appears in his peripheral vision; he spins to see a woman behind him. Ethan summons Dark Fate in the shadow of his forearm.
Her eyes, pools of darkness amongst pale skin, stare at Ethan with softness. She passes a hand in her long, silvery hair that blends black along its length.
"I thought it was you," she whispers. With a speed that belies the fluidity and calmness of her graceful movements, she sits down beside him. His body, usually so fast to react on its own, doesn''t even flinch. "You may call me Rest; I am a servant of Kaliathra."
Ethan glances at Anders, making sure he''s asleep, and dismisses his blade. "I met your associate, Decay, earlier. What do you want from me? I have no soul for you."
"Is it pride that makes you think I would come for you?" Rest quips. She raises a hand to her breasts and puffs, caricaturing offense. "I came because this place insults me. People shouldn''t come back to life; it is¡ unnatural."
"Where are we?" Ethan asks.
She grabs his forearm and slides her hand into his, pressing her shoulder against his side. Despite Ethan''s inhumane perception, he doesn''t process the gesture before it ends. His instincts have never been so quiet as in this moment, making him ponder if it isn''t a ruse. The touch quiets Ethan''s aches and mind. "It appeared with the labyrinth and shall vanish with it. It is a part of it, close to her domain yet far from her influence. A place of death, where you cannot die."
"Did you come to take away those who died tonight?" Ethan asks. Rowan''s corpse flashes before his mind''s eye; Russ did kill him after all; Ethan killed Rowan, a man who did nothing wrong, an innocent.
"I can''t," Rest says. She rests her head on his shoulder, making his guilt vanish. "I can only take away those who give up on life. I will find those I can; I sense them below, resting for the night."
"Why is time flowing differently here?" Ethan asks.
She smiles. "The worlds you walked are close to each other for now, but this place has to be far from them to ignore my mistress'' influence."
"I don''t understand," Ethan comments.
"It will make sense someday," Rest says, like a parent denying a child the full explanation. "If you survive, that is."
Ethan''s mind drifts to his conversation with Decay. He glances at Russ, who is sleeping deeply. "She gave me gifts, and you and Decay answered my questions and even helped me. What does she want from me?"
"She wants nothing you won''t freely give. Gods and their servants cannot walk amongst men, for it would¡" Her voice dries, and slivers of aura escape her. Like Decay, something is censoring her answer, and Ethan has no life force to spare. Besides, he doesn''t want to wake up Anders. Rest''s gaze falls to the ground, making her look troubled. "My mistress needs help; something terribly wrong is about to happen again."
Ethan moves free from her, escaping the peace of mind that dulls his senses. Is she speaking of what he saw, his vision of the world''s end? Wouldn''t that be a good thing for the goddess of death? Billions of souls leaving for her domain. "I had a vision. Of my world swallowed by light and of a glowing shard of Ether, a shard I then saw Aranthor Elarion fight to stop the summoning of. Please, if it is what you refer to, help me understand."
"I cannot," Rest laments. She places her hand over his, once again calming his mind. "I cannot speak of the gods'' secrets; I cannot betray her trust."
"Your worlds are shards of the Elder God. Shards that didn''t take the form of a god," Ethan mutters as he recalls Elowen''s words. His mind drifts to a vision, and he continues with another quote. "All this power turned into specks of dust. Ho, how wrathful would you be seeing yourself? Now, shall we return you home?"
Rest''s dark eyes bud with tears.
"I understand," Ethan begins. Rest hurls both hands at his mouth, shutting him up.
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"Please, I beg you, do not speak it," she pleads. "Promise me you won''t, not for anything. And I¡ I will¡ I will ensure you can climb the tower and escape this place."
Ethan moves her silk-touch hands away from his face. He must tell Tombstone, One, Kate, Four¡ Maelor''s voice pierces through his mind. ''You have to tell everyone, or you will let innocents perish again.''
''Shush,'' Ethan thinks. ''Why would it be a danger to Kaliathra? It doesn''t threaten her unless the process can be reversed. Besides, I could tell them, but what would they do?''
He waits, expecting an answer that never comes. Still, hearing Maelor''s voice when he''s awake is new and a sign that his condition is worsening again.
"When?" Ethan asks. "When and where will this happen again?"
"I don''t know. All I am aware of is that it consumes souls, a lot of them," Rest answers.
''When I saw it happen, their capital was under attack; hundreds of thousands died, humans and orcs alike. Does this mean they have to engineer a new war? Perhaps in a specific place,'' Ethan thinks. ''There is no way besides the Waystones to move people to the other world. No, I''m wrong; Sylas mentioned that after the first sightings of Orcs, permanent portals opened. But when will it happen? Is their plan to throw our armies, still new to the system and under-leveled, against Valeria''s capital? In four hundred years they would have had the time to infest governments in some way.''
"I said too much," Rest says before sighing. She looks up. "Our followers are few, and none have the strength and courage to help."
"Why not call upon adventurers from the other world? There must be people stronger than me," Ethan comments. "I''m sure you can find a selfless hero."
"Not one Kaliathra can call to her domain. Not one with your potential," Rest answers. "The people who dabble in death are rarely sane. And we cannot call upon a power-hungry madman."
"I wouldn''t call myself sane," Ethan quips.
She puffs. "No matter how hated the path you took may be, it''s reason that holds the helm of your mind. Besides, the will of the world chose you, that alone ¨C" Her voice cuts, snuffed out by the power silencing her.
Ethan resists the urge to command her to speak her mind. Covering up the situation with Anders would be complex, especially considering Rest''s loose lips.
"I''m sorry, I speak too much," Rests laments, her gaze still to the clouded sky. She looks down and turns back to Ethan. "You would have known one way or the other. But I have a feeling it was the reason she sent me here now."
The situation, being watched by a goddess who sees him as a pawn, fills Ethan with frustration. The feeling vanishes in a heartbeat, snuffed out by Rest''s influence. If she isn''t deceiving him, Kaliathra''s goal may be altruistic. ''Save the world.'' The ridiculous idea makes him puff. In the end, it isn''t different from his current allegiance; like N.E.S.T., she''s pointing at a monster whose death would benefit everyone.
"I can help her if you share what you know, but I''ll need to tell one person. I guarantee you she will keep it a secret," Ethan says. If he''s right, it could lead him to his father''s assassin. The thought births a wrath Rest''s ability struggles to suppress, tensing Ethan''s arms and neck.
She holds Ethan''s cold gaze. His anger vanishes as he reclaims control of himself, silencing the emotion. The speed with which he calmed his mind surprises him. Emotions never take hold of his mind for long, but with her influence, it lasted a mere second.
She sighs, and a window appears in front of Ethan.
Pact of silence
??? offers you a pact of silence. Should you accept it, you will be unable to speak of the shards of divinity to anyone but ???, until ??? releases you of this pact.
You may spread this pact to 1 person by speaking its name. You''ll be able to speak of the shards of divinity with anyone you spread this pact to.
Accept Deny
"How did you do that?" Ethan asks. The pact of non-aggression wasn''t the most interesting of contracts, but this one sparks his interest.
"It''s an ability," Rest says. "One called Pact of silence. The pact abilities are rare amongst your realms and horded by some. But they are not unfindable."
''What would happen if I recorded myself revealing what I know to Tombstone?'' Ethan ponders. He looks down at the window and asks, "You will tell me everything you can and help me pass that tower?"
"Mm-hmm," she mutters.
Ethan holds her gaze for a moment, reading her emotions, and finds no trace of deceit. He presses ''Accept'' and she exhales before shifting to a friendly smile.
"I''ve told you much of what I know," Rest begins. "But there is one more thing. When the orcs invaded, Caelum Cindralis vanished into their world, and it was soon after he came back that the shard was formed."
''If it is linked to the medallion, he might already have it. I will only be sure of that when meeting Hayes,'' Ethan thinks. ''And if it is something else, it is safe to assume he already did what was needed in his four hundred years among us. Which means I don''t have any time left. Whatever happens, I need to go to Kingsreach as soon as possible, or I might miss him.''
Deep in his thoughts, Ethan notices too late that Rest''s moves to kiss him. The touch of her lips sends a shiver through his brain, dulling his emotions even further. As she lets go of his hand and lips, her influence on his mind doesn''t recede, leaving him calm and without worry.
''I guess that''s the part that helps me climb the tower; at least I hope it is,'' Ethan thinks.
"I leave you to it," Rest says. She stands up and dusts her dress before turning to a ribbon of light and vanishing below the island''s edge. The swirls at the bottom of this world return to their blood-red color, illuminating the islands.
Anders'' eyes flutter upon as the temperature shifts a few degrees. "Were you talking with someone?" he asks.
"My dog," Ethan lies. "Sorry if I woke you up."
"You didn''t. I thought I heard someone speaking Eldorian, weird," Anders comments. He stands and stretches his back, emitting a series of cracks and pops.
Imitating the man, Ethan stretches before moving to Russ. He ties him back up, double-checking the knots, and summons a bottle of water for himself. Ethan glances at Anders, expecting the man to demand water, but finds him drinking from a waterskin. A satchel rests open on his belt; Ethan cannot see its contents and assumes it to be a haversack.
Anders moves to the final bridge and leaps on its first rock; Ethan follows suit. Much like Ethan, Anders moves with ease despite his heavy armor. His glaive, a large double-edged blade held by a metal shaft, looks light in his hand. Before the system, wielding such a hunk of steel would have proven infeasible, if not dangerous.
A crystal shimmers at the base of the blade, held in the center of an engraved circle. Its cold, blue light intensifies as Ethan perceives Anders directing Ether to the shaft. He seems adept at absorbing the surrounding Ether.
They leap to the final island and break into a run towards the central, golden tower. Running at Olympic speed, they cross the barren place in minutes.
Anders paces next to Ethan and asks, "You are strong. What level are you?"
"Seventeen," Ethan lies.
The surrounding air thickens with the stench of rotting corpses. ''Prescience,'' Ethan thinks. Dust rises from the distant ground, moved by an unknown wind.
"Be ready," Anders commands. He hefts his Glaive and consumes Ether; his inner threads move to his muscles and skin.
The Ether shakes, and Ethan perceives its threads splitting as something flies towards them. He kicks Anders in the backplate, propelling them both away.
Thunder crashes where they stood, bellowing an ochre cloud. A shirtless figure appears from the vanishing dust, tall and imposing, wings stretching wide. There stands a creature of beauty, with shimmering skin framed by platinum hair. His physique is flawless, sculpted to perfection; he bears a glance of melancholia, one found in religious paintings.
What Ethan first saw as pants and gauntlets reveal themselves as blackened, chard, overgrown organic armor. His wings hold singed and contorted feathers, veins of fire running along the quills.
''The devil himself, nothing less,'' Ethan mulls over. His feet grind against the dusty ground as he lands. He summons Phantom Reaver and triggers Strengthening, readying himself for a charge.
The winged creature extends his palm towards Ethan. The latter summons a shield, expecting the monster to cast a spell. But it is from Ethan himself that dark threads of Ether escape; they rush into the devil''s hand and seep into his palm. The monster''s red eyes shift to a bright gold.
Chapter 100: Monster
Anders comes from the monster''s side, swinging his glaive wide. The winged monster levitates away from the blade''s path with detached indifference. Anders follows up with fast thrusts, but the devil dodges each of them with minimal effort.
''He is using Prescience,'' Ethan thinks. He lunges forward, his own Prescience still predicting the monster''s movements. As Ethan swings, their opponent glances at him. The exchange of gaze immunizes the monster against Prescience.
A blade springs from the flesh of the monster''s right hand, made of the same carbonized, organic black as his arm. He parries Ethan; the impact shatters the outer layer, revealing an obsidian edge. The guardless, straight blade billows with blinding fire. The flames lick Ethan''s sword, heating up its handle.
Anders comes for another slash, the blade of his glaive releasing dripping frost. As his opponent glances away, Ethan''s Prescience returns to full effect. Seeing it in advance, Ethan deflects a blow aimed at parrying Anders. The glaive bites into the devil''s abdomen, shooting ice through his flesh and out the back.
The devil counters Ethan''s parry and cuts him on the chest, slashing his coat and unbinding Russ. With a flap of his wings, the monster flies a hundred meters back. He breaks the ice with a punch before spreading his arms and wings.
Anders kicks a rock with the butt of his glaive, sending it flying like an arrow, covered in dripping frost. The projectile breaks upon the devil''s leg, shattering into dust. Frost creeps along his armor around the impact, freezing him.
"You shall not escape my realm," the devil thunders. Fire spreads along his wings as the surrounding Ether rushes to him, rising from the well of islands. "You will perish; return to your eternal torment, punished for your sins until the end of times!"
Ethan looks back at Russ, still paralyzed by the debilitating hex.
Fire pools in spheres along his wings; they shoot in the forms of scorching arrows. The projectiles rushing at them, Ethan casts a shield large enough to engulf the three of them. Flames radiate on its surface with each impact, shaking the ethereal structure.
"How long will it last?" Anders asks.
"He is drawing Ether continuously, so he may be able to continue as long as we allow him to," Ethan answers.
"I meant you," Anders corrects. "I can''t sense your aura."
"I''m in the same situation as him; unless he strengthens his spell, I can hold it forever," Ethan answers. He unsummons Phantom Reaver and holds both hands before him, fingers spread into a funnel. "I will cast another spell, but two being my limit, I won''t be able to restrain my dog any longer. He may attack you; grab him by the neck, kick him if you must, but don''t wound him."
Ethan cancels the debilitating hex and visualizes the Lightning Bolt spell. Threads of Ether circulate from his heart to his mind and into his hands. Closing his eyes, he forces the threads to thicken to transport more Ether than they should. "I don''t have time for you," Ethan mutters, more worried about Russ'' state than about the fight.
Under Anders'' watchful gaze, Russ stands up. He shakes before sitting to scratch behind his ear, ignoring Anders.
Electric arcs crackle between Ethan''s hands, his veins burned by the pooling Ether. It springs onto the ground, hitting it like whips of lightning. Suppressing the burning pain of holding tremendous Ether, Ethan restores his reserves.
Fire projectiles still raining on them, Ethan cancels his shield and unleashes his spell. The lightning bolt hits the devil in the chest, blinding everyone with its blast of white light. The strike propels him to the ground, his spell ending with the impact.
Unable to see, Ethan snaps his fingers to cast Silence. His hand protests the sudden move, numbed like his arms by his overuse of Ether. The last of the scorching arrows dwindle in the spell''s area of effect, turning into dying sparks.
As Ethan''s sight returns, Russ runs off to a rock before Ethan can resume his hex.
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"It wasn''t enough," Anders comments, hefting his blade towards the downed monster. He breaks into a run, leaving Ethan behind to reassert control over his arms.
With a flap of his wings, he rises from the ground, his flesh still sizzling from Ethan''s spell. Pain contorts his face. He coughs black blood, bending forward as he holds his stricken stomach.
Anders burst forward; his glaive hits his dark sword, the clattering of metal echoing in the well. Despite his precise parries relying on Prescience, the devil struggles to move. Anders comes close to overpowering him in their clash.
Ethan rolls his shoulders as his strength comes back. He glances where Russ was and only sees a wet rock. He triggers predator''s sight and sees him sneaking in plain sight with his abilities. Prowling, he''s seconds away from lunging at them. The shadowy, monochrome ocher of the island makes him almost invisible. Ethan bursts forward and warns, "Behind you!"
Anders leaps to the side, avoiding Russ as he lunges forward. Despite Prescience, the monster does not see Russ until he bites down on his left wing.
The winged devil rolls over, still levitating, and kicks Russ into the sky. Russ holds and tears off a bloodied chunk in his forced ascension. Fire grows in his wings as the Ether rushes to him, his body aimed upward.
Anders blade comes down like a guillotine, hitting the monster in the chest. The blow craters him into the ground. Not sharp enough, his blade acts like a blunt weapon against the monster''s skin. Ice spikes burst from under the monster, piercing through his chest, legs, and wings.
He cries in pain, his screams shaking the air. The fire pooling in his feathers unleashes a hailstorm of scorching arrows. They curve to strike Anders in an orchestra of smoldering explosions.
Anders flies above Ethan, propelled backward by the spell in a smoke trail. Resuming Prescience, Ethan lunges at the downed opponent with a downward slash. The devil levitates backward, breaking the ice spikes and avoiding the blow. He spins on himself to stand up and resumes his stance.
''Martial skill echo,'' Ethan thinks. His specter appears on the other side of the devil, wielding Zhiznezhret. A swing of the growing great sword breaks the monster''s wing, cracking its main bone as it fails to cut.
Ice spikes burst from inside the devil''s body, piercing through his chest, legs, and arms. Ethan glances back, seeing the smoking form of Anders making a fist in their direction. Anders turns the fist into a thumbs up, informing Ethan of his alright condition.
Ethan closes the distance and follows up with a two-handed strike, aimed at the chest. The devil hurls his blade with a desperate scream to parry Ethan''s. Phantom Reaver breaks the obsidian blade into shards. Ethan bursts forward to transform the blow into a thrust to the heart. The blade rattles against his spine, and Ethan forces it upward. It cuts his ribs in a series of cracks, exiting by the neck.
The devil stumbles, still standing despite the halves of his torso arching away. Ethan''s specter cuts back down at the broken wing, clipping it as fire started to pool into its feathers.
Ethan dismisses his aid and opens his left palm towards the monster. Visualizing the sigils of the Flame spell, Ethan imagines the flow of Ether bulging. He unleashes a fiery torrent that swallows the winged devil.
''It''s like getting better with Ether; I can only increase the amount of fire,'' Ethan realizes. A red strand released by Zhiznezhret rushes to him, springing out of the tempest. His heart, already full, refuses the life force, and it mixes with his Ether. The fire brightens and turns blue, his heat melting the ground into a dark, bubbling sludge. The swirls of overlapping flames mesmerize Ethan''s mind, made light by the power coursing through it. ''I must take the time to study spells; they are my most powerful weapons.''
His Ether dries up, the absorption of the surrounding threads insufficient. He closes his hand, and the stream of flames shuts down, revealing a cone of molten slag. The ground coalesces into patches of red molten sand and dark glass. Lightheaded, Ethan closes his eyes to regain control over himself. ''More training to assert my limits, that''s what I need.''
"Melee Weapon (Long Sword) leveled up. Melee Weapon (Great Sword) leveled up (x2). Ether manipulation leveled up. Life force manipulation leveled up. Russ leveled up," the system announces.
"You said you could cast flames, not that you were an Archmage," Anders comments. He rises from the ground, removing his smoking helmet as the last of his clothes'' embers die down. He is surprisingly unharmed; the barrage of fire seemed more dangerous than that.
''Was it that impressive?'' Ethan ponders. Akeron''s Flame spell was far more powerful and didn''t come with Ethan''s backlash.
Death Ether forms from nothingness, surrounding them. It shimmers into the visual spectrum, creating swirls of dark green that dive to an empty spot. Light bends there, refracted by a mass moving along the darkness.
''No,'' Ethan thinks. He triggers predator''s sight to see Russ crawling there, waiting for Anders to turn his back to him. The runes on his skin burn, and he yelps, his abilities cancelled by the pain. The death Ether seeps into his body, decaying his fur where it enters.
Ethan bursts forward to reach his companion. Fire fills his lungs and throat, forcing him to cough uncontrollably. A spatter of his blood hits the ground as a shiver echoes through his body, sapping his strength. A red window appears in front of him.
A bond has been broken. Both parties will suffer the consequences.
Chapter 101: Curse of monstrosity
Russ rises from the ground, wavering to the sides and shaking his head. His dark fur grows along his back, neck, and face as his muscles swell and define. His skin cracks between the ribs, revealing luminescent dark-green flesh. Claws jut from his paws like obsidian talons, dripping with poison. His eyes, once brown, turn dull green, shining into the dark space.
Ethan stumbles forward, the pain stabbing into his heart like serrated knives. He who usually walks off pain, accustomed to its permanent presence, cannot silence this paralyzing agony.
Spikes, like blades, jut out from Russ'' spine, lining one after another in decreasing size until they reach his tail. He howls, shaking the air and the Ether.
''Insight,'' Ethan thinks.
Russ
Lv.20/20 (Ambush predator) Death hound
Lv.0/20 (Death hound)
Strength: 28 (13) Charisma: 3
Dexterity: 14 (24) Perception: 28
Constitution: 15 Willpower: 14
Intelligence: 6
Abilities
Camouflage (F)
Growth (E)
Hunter''s mark (F)
Poisoned natural weapons (F)
Shadow blend (F)
Shadows'' embrace (F)
Silent steps (F)
Territory (F)
Alteration
Strength boost +15
Dexterity penalty -10
Anders hefts his glaive at Russ as the now-monster prowls towards him. Russ growls, his claws digging into the ground by his weight alone. He lunges forward, breaking into a run with his maw closed, ready to bite.
Ethan''s pain recedes to the manageable burning pressure of a gunshot. He bursts forward, using Strengthening to close the distance with Russ. He unsummons his blade and spins into the air, his foot aimed at the side of Russ'' colossal neck.
Russ melts into the ground; he vanishes into the shadowed island, only illuminated from below. Ethan''s kick hits nothing but air, and he lands on the ground, unable to find Russ even through predator''s sight.
"Get to the tower!" Ethan commands Anders. The man puts back on his helmet and runs off towards the golden pillar. The ground darkens, soon turning into a pool of shadows in a large radius around Ethan.
''Prescience,'' Ethan thinks, expecting Russ to jump out from the ground. He glances around, his feet vanishing under a layer of dark smoke rising from the now black ground. He readies a hex, denying himself a Dermal shield to cast his dark spell faster.
A specter of light lunges from behind. Ethan dashes to his left, avoiding the dark mass of fur and claws hurling past him. Raising a hand, Ethan releases the debilitating hex, its threads missing Russ as he dives back into the shadows.
Anders exits the darkened ground and turns to look at Ethan while jogging backward. Ethan swings his arm, motioning for Anders to keep running, fearing that Russ could switch targets.
A shock hurls Ethan into the air. He spins and lands on his feet, holding his side where he was hit. His hand feels wet; he looks down and sees blood, seeping through four cuts. He scans around, finding nothing but shadowed ground.
"Predator''s sight," Ethan thinks, switching his eyes. He sees Russ lunging from the darkness and steps aside. Though he dodges, Russ'' claws still catch his leg, scratching it through his pants.
Hoping for the spell to reach Russ instantly, Ethan summons a Lightning Bolt and strikes Russ in the side. For an instant, the ground''s layer of darkness splits under the electric arc''s light. The dog tumbles to the ground, and Ethan visualizes the sigils of a debilitating hex.
Pain constricts Ethan''s heart as fire rushes through his veins, hotter around his wounds. "Poison," Ethan realizes. Russ vanishes back, dodging the hex the pain delayed.
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"I need to take his shadows away," Ethan thinks. He winces as the pain and numbness of Russ'' poison spread. Drawing in Ether, he raises a hand and shoots a fireball in the air. The shadows crawl back, creating a circle of ochre ground around him as the spell detonates. Ethan aims down and unleashes an artillery barrage on the ground, creating pyres that scare off the night.
Russ appears from the ground, spit by it as his dark shelter vanishes. The dancing lights create a background to his ochre camouflage, making it useless. "Prescience," Ethan thinks as he now sees Russ.
Russ slaloms between the fires, rushing towards Ethan with his mouth closed. His claws dig into the ground with each leap. His form is brutal, like an enraged grizzly.
Ethan waits for him and casts a debilitating hex, its dark tendril catching Russ in his final, attacking lunge. Shifting to the side, Ethan catches Russ'' neck under his right arm. The inertia pushes Ethan back, his feet grinding against the island''s ground.
Russ swaps his left paw, striking Ethan in the chest. Lacking in strength, the attack only scratches Ethan, but he can feel poison spreading from the wound.
''Strengthening,'' Ethan thinks as he contracts his right arm, aiming to cut Russ'' oxygen flow. He holds tight as Russ shakes him off the ground with his neck and back.
Russ snarls, writhing beneath Ethan''s tightening grip, his monstrous body surging with wrath. Ethan feels Russ'' body thrashing, each movement heavier, more desperate, as his grip tightens around the monster''s neck. The poison spreads in his veins, making his limbs feel like lead, and his heartbeat thunder in his ears; but he holds.
Ethan''s mind races with memories of the island they met and the hope he gave him during their stranded time. "I won''t lose you," Ethan breathes, his voice hoarse. He pulls Russ tighter, his muscles straining against the animal''s frantic struggle. "Not like this."
Russ'' claws continue to flail, scraping at Ethan''s sides, each impact sending waves of pain through his body. He tries to deflect them, but his left arm rests unresponsive at his side, paralyzed. Poison seeps through every new scratch, stinging and burning like acid.
Ethan''s vision blurs, consciousness slipping further away with each breath. He tries to envision his Ether, to bolster his hex, but his mind is sluggish, put asleep by the toxin.
"I need you," Ethan whispers as he sees the flames dying down. His mind, teetering on the brink of unconsciousness, drifts back to the time before Russ entered his life. "I was nothing but a husk," he admits, his voice barely more than a breath. "Then you came along, and for the first time, I had something that mattered. Caring for you, having to feed, shelter, and teach you brought me back. I know it was selfish, pulling you into my world, risking your safety every day. But you make me feel alive... you make me¡ human. And I can¡¯t let that go anymore."
For a moment, Ethan''s grip falters. The shadowy ground under him seems to shift, threatening to swallow them both. But he tightens again, his despair drawing on his life force and giving him back his strength.
"When we finally end the man who haunts my sleep, I promise you that we''ll leave that life behind," Ethan says. "No more jobs. We will be free to go anywhere we want, to explore that new world together."
Russ'' body convulses, a shudder that nearly throws Ethan off balance. The massive claws slow their thrashing, his muscles twitching as they relax. The shadows around them recede, and Russ'' eyes close shut.
"Thank you," Ethan whispers, summoning the potion of soul purity. Ethan lets go of Russ, who falls to the ground. Fighting to stay awake, Ethan crouches and forces open Russ'' upper jaw. He moves the vial to the edge of his throat and uncorks it, his feeble arm resting on Russ'' tongue. The dark liquid burps out of the vial and drops into Russ'' throat.
As Ethan removes his hand, Russ springs to his feet. He tumbles backward and shrinks down to his normal wolf size. His dark green eyes shimmer with a lighter shade, and he falls to the ground.
Ethan''s heart skips a beat as Russ now looks dead. "Please," he mutters.
Russ'' claw scrapes the ground as he flexes his paw. He closes and reopens his eyes, his gaze falling on Ethan. Russ stands and bows his head, successively approaching and backing away like a scared animal.
Still crouched, Ethan extends a hand towards Russ, a tear forming at the edge of his right eye. Ethan kills the emotion, forcing himself to appear and to smell confident. He doesn''t say a word, fearing that he may have forgotten him.
Russ approaches and sniffs Ethan''s bloodied hand. He straightens, his green eyes staring into Ethan''s. His tail shifts left and right, hastening until he wags frenetically. He bows playfully and yelps before jumping on Ethan''s chest, his claws scrapping Ethan''s skin.
Animal bond
Russ''s affection is high enough to form a bond. You''re currently bonded to 0 animals out of a maximum of 1.
Once you bond with an animal, you''ll be able to dictate their growth.
Would you like to form a bond with Russ? If either party starts to hate the other or dies, it will break the bond. Undoing a bond will cause temporary penalties.
YES NO
Ethan taps ''YES'' without hesitation. Russ releases a sharp, happy bark as Ethan grabs his head and pets him with every inch of strength he has left.
Chapter 102: Resurrection
"By reaching a level of obedience of 50 with a monster, he unlocked the Ascendant talent. By reaching a level of obedience of 80 with Russ, you gained the ability to communicate by thought," the system announces. "You obtained the First Monster Tamer title. The Bond Unseen Lineage talent has been granted."
"Am I the first to bond a monster? Amongst all the Tamers that must exist, it''s¡ unbelievable,'' Ethan ponders. He shakes Russ'' now-fluffy ears, inciting the dog to twist his head in playful discomfort. "Yes, you''re a good boy. A good boy that now glows in the dark; I''m sure that will be useful for infiltration."
Ethan''s hands tremble, his mind and sight still clouded by Russ'' poison. The wounds tinge and burn, their pain returning. Russ nudges against Ethan''s chest, whining.
"I''m fine," Ethan says. He presses against the cuts, stopping the blood loss, and summons gauze. Ethan unbuttons his damaged vest and shirt with his left hand and drops them to the ground. He wraps his abdomen with tight layers of gauze.
Russ curls on the ground and tries to scratch his ears. He''s surprised when the spikes on his back stop his paw, forcing him to adjust his posture and angle of attack.
Ethan secures the large bandage with knots and grabs his clothes. They are rags, slashed by claws, and torn from his overuse of Strengthening. He moves over to retrieve his coat, finding it cut at the elbows, yet it still is in better condition than his vest. He dons his white shirt and the dusty cloak, storing the ruined vest of his costume.
''I must look like a beggar with all this dust and tears,'' Ethan thinks. He glances back to look towards Russ but finds himself looking at the approaching ground. The next moment, he''s pressed against the ochre dust, his mind struggling with a shock spreading from his jaw.
Russ shoves his head under Ethan and rolls him to the side. He moves to Ethan''s head, whining as he presses his nose on Ethan''s skin.
Thunderous steps run towards them, echoing through the ground. The adrenaline recedes further, letting blood loss and poison take over. His mind clouded, Ethan commands, ''Guard.''
Russ barks, and the steps halt. Anders says something, but Ethan''s mind is unable to decipher the noises.
Ethan closes his eyes, visualizing his last health potion. The image appears like a red, blurry stain that doesn''t summon anything when he triggers Inventory. The noises of Anders'' voice and Russ'' barks die down. Ethan splits the image, starting with the empty vial to then fill it with the red liquid. He imagines the smell and the taste of it before thinking, ''Inventory.''
Ethan feels the potion''s weight in his hand and commands his arm to bend and bring it to his mouth. The limb refuses to comply, grinding against the dust and stopping far away from its goal. The sensation of his legs and arms vanishes. Yet he doesn''t feel any fear or stress as a coldness crawls under his skin and around his mind. The beating of his heart disappears, and his head, the only part he still feels, dives into the fluffiest of pillows.
Pain stabs Ethan''s chest, and he lifts his chest off the ground. Russ barks, feinting lunges to force Anders to back away. The man holds an empty vial in his hand; this isn''t Ethan''s health potion.
Anders raises his hands in the air, reassuring Russ. "See, I''m moving away. Don''t bite me, ¡ please."
''Leave it,'' Ethan commands. Russ jumps on Ethan''s legs to lick his face; Ethan pushes his dog away, still trying to catch his breath. He turns to Anders and asks, "Did you give me something?"
"When your¡ dog finally let me," he begins, exaggerating annoyance. "I gave you your health potion. Good thing you had one, because I''m all out. And after that, I gave you an anti-poison; you looked all pale with dark veins, almost blue lips, and quite a lot of foam."
"Thanks," Ethan says. The ease with which he accepted death troubles him. The coldness that took his mind recedes, making Ethan ponder if Rest''s power may have been at play. He rises to his feet, pushing Rush off his legs.
"When I saw you walking around, I thought you weren''t that wounded. But clearly you should have been a little more worried seeing all that blood," Anders says. He motions towards the ground, where pools of red mix with the ochre dust. Anywhere else, it would have looked like a murder scene.
"That''s a lot of blood," Ethan comments.
"Yeah," Anders snaps, his voice filled with anger. "He hit you in the liver with the first blow. I''m surprised you held out that long."
"Why are you angry?" Ethan asks.
"Instead of saying he was sick, you could have told me he was going to turn into a monster. I saw the mark on his back; that''s the same one as the Wolves; you knew it would happen. I could have helped you hold him down for you to give him that potion," Anders blames, gesticulating. "But noooo, you had to do it all by yourself. Even if it meant getting killed by your own dog."
"We don''t know each other," Ethan snaps. "It was convenient for us to fight that monster together, but do not dare think that even for a moment I trust you. And neither should you."
Anders opens his mouth to say something but stops himself. He turns around to walk back to the tower. "You''re right. It''s not really you I''m angry with; I''m sorry."
''Who is he angry with then? And once he saw the marks when Russ transformed, he could have refused my command to run away. This is hindsight hypocrisy,'' Ethan thinks. As Anders walks away, Ethan opens his status to examine Russ''.
Russ
Lv.20/20 (Ambush predator) Death hound
Lv.0/20 (Death hound)
Bonded: Ethan Reed (Obedience 95)
Strength: 13 Charisma: 6
Dexterity: 24 Perception: 28
Constitution: 15 Willpower: 14
Intelligence: 6
Abilities
Camouflage (F)
The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.Growth (E)
Hunter''s mark (F)
Poisoned natural weapons (F)
Shadow blend (F)
Shadows'' embrace (F)
Silent steps (F)
Territory (F)
"Your charisma went back up," Ethan notes. Russ also gained strength and constitution as part of his transformation. "I guess that, intelligence, and willpower are part of your soul. Too bad the system didn''t give you four characteristic points. That would have been a useful loophole."
Russ dives into Ethan''s shadow and vanishes into it. Ethan flinches at the sight before leaning over his shadow and looking into it. It attracts thin threads of Ether that vanish from existence as they reach the ground. Green eyes open on the shadow to glance back at Ethan.
"Russ, heel," Ethan orders. Russ leaps out of the shadow and moves to press against Ethan''s leg, staring upward. "It must be your new Shadows'' embrace ability."
Ethan summons a bag of shredded beef from an MRE and heats it up with an ember of a Flamme spell. "Ok." He gives Russ a first bite and taps on his shadow with his foot. Russ disappears into it, and Ethan programs, ''Shadow.''
They repeat the process of heeling and vanishing a dozen times. Russ'' ability to learn and his eagerness for beef make it easy for Ethan. He is soon convinced that Russ understands the command.
"That''s a good boy," Ethan says as he shows the empty bag to Russ. "I was wondering how I would climb with you, but you made it easy for me. Shadow."
Russ vanishes from sight, and Ethan walks towards the tower where Anders is waiting. ''Perhaps once he was outside of Russ'' reach, safe, he thought he would have acted differently had I warned him. He did approach him to heal me.''
His back leaning against the tower, Anders points his thumb at it. "There are no entrances, just plaques with text in several languages."
Ethan glances down at the closest plaque and reads it. "You who fell to purgatory shall let go of the weights of your soul to rise back to life. Enlightenment will be your resurrection."
"Yup," Anders comments, staring at Ethan''s shadow as Russ'' eyes glance at him. "So, what are we supposed to do?"
"Climb," Ethan answers. He leaps onto the tower, grasping a golden face before moving upward. Improved by the system and Strengthening, his body feels feather light to pull up.
Ander stashes his glaive into his belt pouch and follows suit. He catches up with Ethan, placing himself forty degrees to the left. He absorbs Ether in the same way as Sylas, drawing in threads with each breath.
Russ'' eyes open on the tower''s surface, glancing back and forth between Ethan and Anders.
"So, he''s in your shadow," Anders notices. "You dispelled his fire by freezing the Ether around us. Not mentioning your red and golden eyes, you are way stronger than you said."
"What''s your point?" Ethan asks. The questioning annoys him, but blocking the conversation will create more suspicion. If his party members are on the same level as he is, they may be a major player in future events. They would have credibility towards the authorities and public should they denounce him.
"You are not level seventeen; I''d even guess you already ascended. So, what is it? Did you multi-class in both Warrior and Mage? And what''s up with the eyes?" Anders asks.
''I hope Tombstone and Cypher erased every trace of my fight in Dubai. Otherwise, he could recognize me,'' Ethan realizes. "I acted surprised when you spoke of unique achievements. The eyes are abilities much like your Permafrost. And yes, you are right, my total level is over thirty."
"You don''t trust people, do you?" Anders asks. Ethan''s expression makes it clear he won''t get an answer to the rhetorical question. "How is it? The realm of Ascension, I mean."
"That place tests you in many ways, using every weakness it can find. But it is nothing for someone strong of both body and mind," Ethan answers. He hopes that Maelor is right.
"So, it¡¯s a custom challenge," Anders comments, self-convincing himself of Ethan''s words. "Don''t you worry that you won''t be able to get an ascended class now that you multi-classed in two basic ones?"
"Not really," Ethan lies. "There are items in the other world that can give you a new class. I''m sure I could find one in some high-ranking dungeon. Plus, not being able to level up doesn''t stop your growth. I raised my willpower on my own; I''m sure I could gain strength the way we used to. Without mentioning hunter titles and dungeon rewards."
"That''s good to know, thanks." Anders says. He glances back and forth at Ethan, or rather around Ethan. "How are you doing that? Drawing in Ether continuously, I mean."
"You''re not the first to ask me that," Ethan comments. One could think that it''s only a matter of training, but to Ethan, it''s natural. Even though it improved with Maelor''s knowledge and Ethan''s experience, his pull on Ether has always been easy. At his first meeting with it, in the kobolds'' lair, it was even drawn to him. "How did you absorb Ether for the first time?"
"Me? First time was an ice Ether crystal. But Ether-Ether? Our Mage had to¡ meditate for a good ten minutes. And when he taught us, I spent half an hour trying." Anders answers.
''Weird,'' Ethan thinks. The hypothesis of a genetic component crosses Ethan''s mind. But how could that be in a population alien to Ether? It would be like a desert species evolving gills. ''Meditation seems to be the default in the otherworld. Kate has the same ease as me ¨C so did Blackwood and Dawnstar. I should ask Tombstone; with the entirety of N.E.S.T. as a sample, we could find a common element. It would help explain why there are so few strong people on the other side. It''s a massive disadvantage compared to me.''
Ethan stops, realizing he lost himself in his thoughts, his guard completely down. His usual restraints are gone, not in the way of the lord''s castle, but because he''s calm and, for once, not alert.
"Everything alright?" Anders asks, stopping a meter above.
''Rest,'' Ethan mutters in his mind. He resumes his ascension, focused on staying alert. "It''s nothing."
Images seep into Ethan''s mind ¨C flashes of blood, his father''s face, his lifeless eyes, and his murderer. The images twist his thoughts, paralyzing his ascent. His muscles grow weak, unable to grab higher, unable to let go of their current hold.
Anders stops at the same level, a haunted look etching his face. But then, the earlier coldness creeps under Ethan''s skin and wraps around his thoughts. The memory distorts, its edges blurring until they turn into a quiet void. Ethan takes a deep breath and glances back at Anders.
"If that''s what the plaque meant, I will be here for some time," Anders mutters. He reaches higher, his arm looking feeble as he struggles to lift himself. "Go ahead, don''t let me slow you down."
Ethan moves his gaze upward and resumes his ascension. More memories surge forward, each one cutting deeper than the last. He sees himself, barely an adult, standing amid the carnage of a South American slum. His hands, slick with blood, grip a blade chipped on its victims'' bones. Gang members litter the ground, their faces frozen, their bodies in desperate poses. The coldness takes it away.
Higher, another vision overtakes him. A young child, One, stares up at him with an emotionless stare. Ethan remembers the lessons, the drills, and the nights where it taught One to survive, to kill, to become a weapon. The coldness takes it away.
Ethan pulls himself faster, fearing that Rest''s ability may falter. He realizes that he never thinks of those memories unless someone mentions them. They are stashed away to the back of his mind, forgotten.
Screams rattle in his mind ¨C civilians gunned down by soldiers. Their panicked faces, the helpless cries of mothers clutching their children. Ethan remembers watching the execution from the side, ensuring his cover remained intact. He sees the bodies crumple to the ground, pushed into a trench on the side of the road. The coldness takes it away.
A dozen meters under the clouds, an image burns through his mind. In a darkened alley, a drunk giant lunges at him with a knife. Ethan, a child, still suffering the burns of his mansion''s fire, reacts to instinct. The man falls, blood spilling across the pavement from the wound his own knife pierced in his heart. But it''s the girl''s face that he remembers the most. The wide, uncomprehending stare of a daughter seeing her father''s last moment.
The memory presses against his mind like iron spikes. Yet, as before, Rest''s influence creeps into his consciousness. The cold presence draws out his emotions and snuffs out the memory. His hands find strength again, and he pulls himself up the tower.
He glances back at Anders, who continues to struggle with his own burdens, far below. Ethan pushes on, climbing through the layer of cloud where light takes him away.
"You completed your fourth trial of the Labyrinth of Death, Purgatory."
Chapter 103: Cooperation
"Necromancer!" a man yells before the light recedes. Thundering steps rush at Ethan. He casts a Shield, stopping the hand of the man from grabbing his coat.
"I recognize that voice," Ethan says in French. Russ growls from inside his shadow. They stand atop a circular ochre platform shrouded in a dust storm, illuminated by a dim, red sun. Four other people are there, their eyes on the confrontation. Ethan notices Ivy and Derek amongst them, their jaws hanging. "But once again, I am no necromancer, Lucien."
"Lies! I see that thing in your shadow, that monster that recks of death," Lucien retorts. His eyes flash bright cyan, fixated on Russ'' presence. He looks healthier than before; his blond hair is longer, and his skin is smoother. He''s wearing a vestless, cobalt, and navy-blue three-piece costume from an expensive brand. The accoutrement is far away from the t-shirt and jeans he was wearing last time. This modern style combines well with the leather belts holding a sword at his hip and a shield on his back.
Lucien d''Arcange removes his hand from Ethan''s shield to draw his long sword. The sigils on its blade shine as they leave its sheath, reading, ''Radiant Dawn.'' He swings, the attack slow in Ethan''s eyes.
Ether coalesces at Lucien''s feet in five spots. Vines burst from them, catching Lucien''s legs, torso, and attacking arm. Ivy walks toward them, holding her gloved and decorated hand forward.
The two remaining men move forward but stop themselves, their gazes on Ethan. Dressed in all black costumes and white shirts, they look like bodyguards. Ethan notices their tie clips and cufflinks, shaped in the form of Seraphel''s symbol.
''Kaliathra said the servants of gods would hunt me, but it seems only the most fervent of them get the memo,'' Ethan thinks.
"What happened to you?" Derek asks, joining them.
"Just like they said, I was in purgatory. It''s another trial," Ethan explains. He dispels his shield and steps away from Lucien. "I saw other people down there, but not Grant."
"We still see him on our status," Derek comments. His gaze shifts to Ivy, who doesn''t seem shaken by either of their words. "Can he make it? Just like you did."
"Unlikely," Ethan answers. "But he won''t die until he gives up. Strong monsters appear every night, but you come back to life the next day with a malus."
"If we clear the labyrinth, maybe he will be brought out," Ivy theorizes.
''With how the servants of the labyrinth reappear, I doubt it. Rest did say that it would vanish, but we have no idea of when,'' Ethan thinks. He holds Lucien''s seething gaze for a moment, pondering how to deal with him.
"Wait," Ivy begins. "How could you have spent a night there? We just left the castle like ten minutes ago."
"Time flows differently down there, but this feels too fast. A bard I met spent three nights in Purgatory; he entered the castle half a day before us," Ethan explains.
"When did you enter the labyrinth with walking anger issues?" Ivy says, nodding towards the men in black and then Lucien.
The oldest approaches. Several pieces of light armor show through his clothing by the shape they give it. He hides a gun in his belt and carries a short sword at the hip. He pulls out his phone and presses the side button, but nothing happens. With a tut, he stashes the spent device. "I''d say two days after the invitations."
"Then teleporting between trials is not instantaneous," Ethan guesses. "We won''t know how much time passed until we leave this place."
"Speaking of trial," Ivy says. She takes out a crystal from her haversack and approaches Ethan. "We passed thanks to you. And given that you killed the lord, their loot is yours."
Ethan takes it with his thumb and index. It is small, with jagged faces, and filled with swirling smoke patterns of black and green. ''Identification.''
Deathvein crystal (B)
This crystal improves the resistance of the creature who consumes it to death Ether, allowing them to resist its corruption.
''Consume? Am I supposed to eat it?'' Ethan ponders. He stashes the item in his Inventory. "Thank you."
The oldest of Lucien''s guards stares at the vanishing crystal. He approaches and asks, "So your group killed the lord too. I hope you didn''t lose anyone."
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"We didn''t do anything; he killed the monster on his own," Ivy says. "We only had to fight the last, wounded fury."
"Alone?" the man stammers. Fear appearing in his eyes, he steps away from Ethan.
Arriving in a burst of blinding light, a woman stumbles forward. She catches herself before being able to see. She wears light armor made of blue, scaled leather. The coat-like piece, thick around the chest, is fitted with satchels, vials, and daggers.
Ethan recognizes the material of her armor as identical to Anders''. He turns towards her while keeping his attention on Seraphel''s minions. She glances left and right at the faces surrounding her.
"I came here with a party," she begins. "Have you seen anyone wearing armor like mine? Please."
"I''ve met a man named Anders," Ethan says, hoping revealing he is alive will make him one less enemy on this island. "He''s still in purgatory. And, even if it will take him some time, he''s on his way out."
Her breath catches, and her eyes widen. She steps forward, her hands trembling as they reach towards Ethan. "He''s alive? I thought the judge had killed him."
"He is," Ethan confirms.
The woman''s shoulders sag with relief, and a smile breaks across her face. She crosses the distance between them, her arms spread wide. Russ leaps from Ethan''s shadow, placing himself between them to growl.
Everyone but Ethan recoils, scarred of the terrifying wolf. Derek''s hand falls on the handle of his sword; the woman pulls a curved dagger from her belt. Lucien''s men grab their pistols, poorly hiding them behind their coat.
"Leave it," Ethan commands. He speaks the order to establish that he''s in control of the threat. Russ goes silent and sits down, glancing at everyone else. He licks his lips and looks up at Ethan. "Sorry, he doesn''t like it when strangers approach me."
"Is that your dog?" Ivy stammers. Her spell weakens as her focus shifts, withering the vines holding Lucien. She takes a few steps forward, scanning Russ'' new form. "What happened to him?"
"Long story," Ethan answers. He pats Russ on the head and orders, ''Shadow.''
The new woman sheathes her dagger in the inside of her belt, making it hard to see. Looking more intently, Ethan spots thin knives under her coat and on the inside of her forearms. The pommel of a straight dagger shows at the edge of her boot. She dusts off her coat and tightens the straps holding her satchels and vials. "I''m River, by the way," she says, spotting Ethan''s scanning glances.
"I''m Ivy, this is Derek, and I think blondie''s name is Lucien. As for the giant, he won''t tell anyone." Her voice is sweeter than a moment ago, like when Ethan met her.
The dust storm dies down, revealing a circular array of similar ochre platforms. No sign of life appears on any of the other levitating disks, nor any sign of monsters.
The paladin''s gaze goes unfocused, as if lost in thoughts. What an odd moment to let his guard down; doesn''t he fear Ethan? He stands immobile amongst the withering vines for long seconds.
"What''s happening to him?" Ivy asks, pointing at Lucien. His guards, oblivious to the situation until now, move to his side. They look worried, and the youngest of them moves his hand to clasp a pendant in the image of Seraphel''s symbol.
"Something is coming," Lucien says as he returns to his senses. He breaks free of the vines and detaches the large, metallic kite shield to attach it to his left forearm. "Something powerful and dangerous."
"Did you have a vision?" Ethan asks. Curious if Lucien shares a talent with him, Ethan triggers Insight. The window that appears bears his name but paints him as a level one Paladin.
"It''s a premonition, a warning given to me by the god of light," Lucien answers. "Do not tempt me necromancer; your only reprieved is that there is a bigger danger than you."
"Once again, I am not a necromancer. I thought I made that clear when I defeated you in a swordfight," Ethan retorts.
Inconspicuously, Lucien is the most protected of them. Under his shirt and pants, he hides chainmail made of Ether dense iron that doesn''t emit a sound when rattled. He moves to approach Ethan, but his oldest guard stops him by the shoulder. Lucien mutters, "Seraphel calls for your head; you are an evil that needs to be vanquished."
"For the love of God, will you speak a language we understand?!" Ivy yells. She approaches Lucian and stabs her finger into his shirt. She''s surprised by the chainmail''s resistance. The absence of reaction from his guards amazes Ethan; are they new to the job? "I don''t know what''s your problem, but you won''t harm anybody until we clear this boss fight, understood?!"
"Boss fight?" Lucien and his guards ask at the same time.
"Don''t you recognize this? It''s like a dungeon. We were waiting for the last member of the raid, and now that she is here, we must defeat the boss," she explains.
Lucien''s oldest guard asks, "Did you do it before?"
"What? No," she begins. "Look at this! This is a deserted set of arenas with nothing else in sight. And according to blondie, from the little French I understand, something dangerous is coming. Don''t you see this is just like in Final Fantasy fourteen, ¡WoW, ¡Dark Age of Camelot?" Her voice slows on the last words as she realizes only Derek knows any of these names.
"I think my son plays one of those," the oldest bodyguard says.
"I hate old people," she mutters, defeat clear in her posture. "¡We have to kill a big monster to get teleported to the next place."
Ethan looks down from the edge, keeping his attention on the humans. He triggers predator''s sight. Quieter than the people and the winds, he hears laments coming from below. Roars, like those of a thousand beasts, deafen him. They all look up to see something blocking the red sun.
It plummets toward them. Its form is long, serpentine, with an elongated, skeletal body reinforced by jagged bone plates and patches of decayed flesh. Long, fin-like wings spread out on either side, flaring as it approaches, its bones creaking and clacking with each contraction. Its jaws are massive and angular, with a bone blade for the chin and serrated, knife-like teeth. Inside its cavernous ribcage, a grotesque, exposed heart dangles. Decaying tissue surrounds it, pulsating with every beat.
As it dives, the creature''s maw opens, revealing a deep darkness within, a void where light vanishes. A chain arcs around its neck, held to the side of its maw by titanic, rusted nails. Its roar reverberates through the air, shaking the floating platforms and echoing through the void below. It vibrates Ethan''s bones.
The beast descends, diving in the center of the platforms before rising to the side of theirs. Its claws ¨C long, serrated bones ¨C dig into the ground. It roars once more, unleashing a pestilent wave upon them.
Chapter 104: Leviathan
The beast raises a clawed hand and slams it down towards Ethan. He bursts backward, avoiding the slow blow while keeping his attention on Lucien.
River vanishes into a puff of mist, rendering her invisible to the naked eye. Her draw on Ether, coming with each of her breaths, makes her visible in Ethan''s Ether senses. But he knows he will lose her track the moment he focuses on something else.
The Paladin''s men run back to reach the half of the platform opposite to the monster. Ribbons of light escape them and swirl around Lucien, giving him a golden glow.
Bone plates detach from the creature, only to be caught by flesh tendrils. The dark, oozing tendons writhe like parasites. They multiply until their strength suffices to press back the bone against its body. Despite its eyes being nothing but dark holes, Ethan feels them staring at him.
The absence of any fear or sense of urgency at the colossal Lovecraftian sight shakes Ethan. While Rest''s influence was a boon on the tower, he loathes it now for calming his heart in this deadly situation. His attention shifts to Seraphel''s minions, the second menace. While Lucien stares at the beast, his men could attack Ethan in the back with their guns or unknown spells.
Frost coalesces around Ivy, forming into ice spears floating next to her. She lashes her hand forward, and they shoot in its neck, piercing the rotten scale and bones. Black blood drops to the platform, bubbling like molten tar.
The gargantuan monster''s maw snaps open; a jet of dark-green gas expands from it. Ethan casts a shield; the breath swallows everyone, making their figures vanish.
Winds scream from where Ivy was, their howls echoing around. The gas swirls and rises off the platform, drawn to a tempestuous orb above Ivy. She aims it at the monster and reflects its breath attack, englobing its form in its own gas.
Hoping for the gas to be flammable, Ethan summons a fireball and throws it at the creature''s maw. The spell strikes true, illuminating the darkness in scorching orange light. The gas ignites with a deafening boom that shakes the platform. A wave of heat explodes outward. For a split second, blinding flames shroud its upper half.
Cracks resound as the explosion tears through its bone plating. Chunks of dark, petrified scales and bone fragments rain down. The beast recoils in agony, a feral roar ripping from its maw.
Forms rise from the bubbling blood, twisted humanoids with asymmetrical limbs. They claw themselves out of the tar, revealing dark, hairless, scaled skin.
River appears from mist and stabs the first creature in the upper stomach. She pulls her dagger out and avoids a claw strike by twisting her head out of the way. Blood pours from the wound, as if its heart were lower than it should. The creature falls to the ground and melts into the same sludge that gave it birth.
River turns towards them and motions at her stomach. "Hit them low; that''s where it hurts!"
The boss dives away from the platform, letting itself fall far below and out of their reach. It arches to rise back into the red skies, circling the platforms like a predator.
Lucien charges forward, striking the closest humanoid. His blade shines with light moments before the beheading blow. The flesh exposed by his blade burns with golden light, disintegrating into ashes. The creature melts into tar, spreading on the ground.
Ethan summons a fireball and hurls it at the pair of monsters rushing him. Their forms vanish in a burst of flames, their ashes carried away by the winds.
Lucien moves with ease, cutting through their ranks in a reckless charge. Claws reach him, but skit against his armor. He doesn¡¯t see it, but the creatures he moves behind backtrack to circle him.
One of the monsters reaches Derek and Ivy. The Warrior kicks the lunging creature in the face, bringing it to the ground. It claws his armored pants in its fall, drawing blood from shallow wounds. Derek spins to the side and impales his blade in its neck. It writhes, clawing at the ground until Derek twists his blade, snapping its spine.
The monsters circling Lucien jump on him, swallowing him under a mass of writhing claws and teeth. His guards rush to his help, drawing both their short swords and pistols.
The flying beast¡®s trajectory shifts as it dives back towards them. It roars, its maw dripping with dark-green flames. The red sun dims, its light obscured by the skeletal body of the gargantuan creature.
Ivy commands, ''Run to another platform!'' She and Derek dash off to the side. Derek casts a glance at the overwhelmed Paladin and splits to rush towards Lucien. Ivy seems to think this place follows the rules of games; is it why she gave that order?
''Strengthening,'' Ethan thinks before bursting through the platform. He leaps onto the next, reaching it first. From the corner of his eyes, he sees River appearing from thin air to break into a run. ''Does Veil limit your speed? I should know more about that ability; it''s too dangerous.''
Derek rams his shoulder into the mass surrounding Lucien, breaking their ranks. He follows up with slashes that clear Lucien''s flank. Despite only relying on his stored Ether for his abilities, Derek makes quick work of the beasts. Those reserves, however, dwindle in mere moments. He commands, "We need to move!"
Lucien grabs a monster by the neck and slams it into the others, breaking their hold on him. The monsters cut his face and forearms, yet the wounds knit themselves back up, leaving no scar. His blade melts the beasts, as do the bullets of his guards. The projectiles they shoot glow with golden light. Their impacts feel more powerful and devastating than they should.
Slaying the last creature, the three followers of Seraphel look up at the diving beast. Turning their heads to the next platform, to which Derek is already rushing, they break into a run.
Lucien overtakes Derek and leaps to River''s side. He glances back and realizes, like the others, that his men are too far from the edge. "No!" the Paladin bellows. He moves forward, ready to jump back, but River catches his shirt, thinking that he doesn''t have enough time.
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Derek leaps from the edge as the monster unleashes a torrent of green flames that takes half the island. The breath attack licks his armor and clothes; the leather turns black and the iron rusts. He lands close to Ivy, holding his back where the flames hit the strongest.
Ethan extends threads of Ether and directs them to Derek, replenishing his reserves. Derek glances at his chest, unable to sense or understand what happened. He takes a red potion from his haversack and downs his contents. Parts of his armor fall off, revealing blackened flesh that heals back to white.
The beast flies off, and the flames vanish to reveal a dark ground. Two figures crawl on it, losing clothes, hair, teeth, skin, and then flesh to an expeditious necrosis. River shields her mouth, stopping herself from vomiting at the sight. Lucien stares at them, furious.
Ivy sidesteps to move next to Ethan. She hissed only for him to hear, "What are you doing? Don''t stand here. What is it? Is it blondie that scares you? Can''t you see that he will cooperate until we''re done?"
Does she expect him to heal them? No, that isn''t what she means. He''s restraining himself from giving his all, and she understands why. But with the two of them dead, the threat is now manageable.
The beast flies back, this time crashing on the platform, its jaw''s blade, and bones scaring the ground. The dying men are crushed, swallowed by the monster''s body. They remain as nothing but smears as it flies off.
Trails of dark ooze bubble on the platform it wrecked. Masses rise from them, bigger and stronger than before. Some sprout three arms, while others bear hooked bone spikes on their body.
Lucien turns to Ivy. "You knew we had to get away from the platform. How do we kill it?"
"What?" Ivy stammers. "Well, its weak point has to be its heart, but it doesn''t expose it."
The gargantuan beast dives at the edge of the platform, arching back to settle to its side.
"The wind spell you used. Can it make someone fly? Or at least control their fall?" Lucien barks.
"Maybe. I don''t know," Ivy stammers, scarred.
"Well, you''ve got a minute to find out," Lucien commands. "Necromancer, get it to fly away with your fire. When it comes back to smash into the ground after his breath, we''ll climb it and get to its heart."
''That''s expecting it to repeat the exact same actions,'' Ethan thinks. Lucien''s posture, focused on the landing beast, makes him unthreatening to Ethan.
Ethan summons a fireball in each hand and throws them at the landing monster. They strike the base of its neck, spreading ichor that molds into monsters as soon as it splatters.
On the side, Ivy lifts Derek off the ground and moves him in the air under River''s watch.
''Not powerful enough,'' Ethan thinks. Despite the damage, his spells didn''t even stagger the beast. He bolsters the threads of Ether he uses to form another fireball. It swells to a size overshadowing his, radiating a heat that vaporizes his sweat. He throws it, the spell arching down on its path, and strikes the top of its ribcage.
With not enough time to even claw at them, the monster dives off the platform and into the sky.
The minions born of its blood rush Lucien, who fell them with ease. He glances back to see Ivy nodding towards him and bolts to the next platform. Everyone follows, leaping one after the other to safety.
Ethan rolls his shoulder as he recovers his arms. He readies himself to cast a Shield, expecting the monster to divert from its pattern.
The flying beast dives, its maw filled with green flames. In the last moment, it contorts and aims its breath at them and not at the platform.
"Get close," Ivy commands. She holds her hands forward and summons a spherical gale to shield them.
Ethan forms a shield behind her winds, large enough to englobe all of them.
The green fire slams against Ethan''s shield, licking hungrily at its edges. The intensity makes his spell shimmer and flicker. The tendrils of flame bend its shape, like pressing against molten plastic. Ethan focuses on it, guiding more Ether into the threads that weave the spell. Close to Lucien, and thinking of the next step, he refrains from overpouring into it. For a tense moment, it seems as though the shield might crack.
Ethan senses Ivy expending more Ether, breaking her limits to amplify the force of her spell. Her winds expand, turning into a column that sends the flames into the skies. Ivy''s face turns pale, beads of sweat on her brow. Dark veins grow on her neck.
Derek catches her as she falls backward. She gasps for air, but her breath catches. It isn''t her first time, not in the labyrinth at least, but she is paralyzed by the lifeforce exhaustion.
The monster turns around, flying low to ram into them.
"Only dodge its next attack when it cannot switch targets anymore," Ethan orders. He triggers Strengthening and bursts through the second platform to reach the first. He grabs one of the lingering monsters by the neck and bursts back, summoning Zhiznezhret. The monster thrashes, but the speed makes its limbs rattle in the wind.
Ethan comes back to the group before the boss'' next attack. They stare at him and the monster he brings. Ethan thrusts the saber through the monster''s stomach, where River indicated. The monster goes limp, and a sliver of red escapes it, drawn at once to Ivy. She gasps, grasping her heart and throat as colors return to her skin.
The boss does not come to an island but at them, aiming for the gap between the platforms. It crushes the sides, its bones cracking with each impact.
Ethan jumps in the air, aiming to land on the monster. Wind makes him fly higher as Ivy propels everyone else after him. He catches himself at the back of its body, right before its tail.
The monster sores high, and Ethan slips, taken by gravity. He summons Phantom Reaver and stabs the blade into a bone plate, stopping his fall. River falls by, and Ethan catches her by the forearm.
"Fuck!" River yells, her articulations nearly dislocating in the impact. She climbs up Ethan''s arm and grabs the edge of a large bone plate. "Thank you."
The monster''s body cracks along Ethan''s length, releasing his blade as it opens into a toothy maw. It snaps at him, but Ethan lets himself fall to avoid the bite. He stabs his sword in its tail, coming to a stop after a cut a dozen meters long.
The monster arches forward, making it possible to stand once more.
Ethan coats Phantom Reavers in flames and bursts forward. He slashes relentlessly at its body, digging the blade deep into its flesh. The dancing trails of fire sear the wounds and vaporize its blood. Yet, dark tendrils spring to life in them, knitting its flesh and undoing the damages.
''It''s useless,'' Ethan thinks. He reaches the others who stand up from a net of vines. ''If we cannot damage its body, perhaps Ivy is right, and we must destroy its heart.''
Bubbling warts of ichor burst along its back. Humanoids with thick arms and talon-like claws climb from them and descend on all four to charge.
Mindful of the ground that could open into a maw, Ethan slices through the first creature. Flames flare from the blade, leaving the monster writhing in agony as it melts into black sludge.
"Get to the neck; that''s where we''ll climb down to its heart!" Derek shouts, spinning his sword in a defensive stance.
Ice spears burst forward, impaling three of the monsters and sending them into the void.
The boss exhales a gas cloud that glides over its body. Anticipating the explosion to blast them off the monster, Ethan dispels his flames. He hopes Ivy will deal with it.
Lucien charges forward, but his right foot dives into the monster''s body, caught by a maw. The opening widens, swallowing him all, and bites down. The teeth grind against his armor, pressing against his body.
Seeing the gas, Ivy raises her hands and summons winds that deviate it away from them. Her gale sphere gathers the poison above her, expanding as it takes in the gas.
Derek rushes to help Lucien; a creature bursts from a pool of blood, lunging at him. Derek stabs it through the chest, but the creature''s talons strike him along the arm and in the lung. Derek breaks away from the beast as it melts; he stumbles back, holding his bleeding chest.
Ethan''s eyes dart to Derek as the Warrior staggers, blood seeping from between his fingers. Derek consumes the last of his Ether into triggering an ability, yet life force doesn''t come to him. The boss writhes, forcing Ethan to duck and grab the ground. Derek doesn''t react to the shock, and he falls off the monster.
Chapter 105: Leviathan - Part 2
"Noo!" Ivy screams. She extends a hand towards Derek, summoning another gust of wind below him, but he falls away from her reach. She glances at Ethan and Lucien and jumps off the monster, taking with her the condensed sphere of gas.
Ethan turns back to move to the neck and sees Lucien struggling in the maw. The paladin slams his blade with the little reach he has, burning away its flesh. ''His ability can damage it permanently,'' Ethan notes, seeing the absence of tendrils.
Unsummoning his blade, Ethan grabs Lucien by the shoulders and heaves him. The maw fights Ethan for its meal, pulling on Lucien''s legs, which are already down its throat.
Monsters grow from its body, circling Ethan. They screech and scratch at the bone plates before lunging forward.
''Martial skill echo,'' Ethan thinks, summoning Skysong. Ethan''s ghost manifests next to him, holding the spear towards the screeching creatures. They lunge at it, and it impales them one after the other.
Russ'' enlarged form grabs one the ghost missed and drags it into Ethan''s shadow. In his mind, Ethan hears the creature''s bones breaking under Russ'' teeth.
Lucien screams as Ethan''s strength and the monster''s grip pull him apart. He wrenches his blade from its flesh with the space Ethan gained him. It covers in light, and he stabs it next to him, disintegrating teeth and flesh.
The monsters writhe, forcing Ethan to use a hand to grab its body. Ethan''s ghost, and the small monsters fly off into the void. Ethan thinks, ''Cancel Martial skill echo.'' The ghost and Skysong vanish, returning to Ethan.
The maw holding Lucien loosens, and Ethan pulls him out. His clothes dissolved up to his knees, leaving his chainmail and feet exposed.
"Why did you save me?" Lucien asks.
Ethan breaks into a run, motioning for Lucien to follow. He lies, "You said it yourself; there is a bigger danger than you to deal with. And besides, your god doesn''t like me; I hope he will appreciate the gesture."
Lucien tuts at Ethan''s answer.
''I''d better give Lucien a shot at destroying the heart. If it can mend, then his ability could be our only effective weapon," Ethan thinks.
Warts grow from the beast, hatching more of the small monsters. Ethan summons Zhiznezhret and grows it into a great sword. The blade cleaves through the horde, releasing red whisps with each kill. Ethan grabs them into his influx of Ether. They mix with it, flooding Ethan with power.
''Let''s make it easy for him to reach the heart,'' Ethan thinks. He grabs the chains binding the beast''s jaws and pulls to the side. Using Strengthening, he tenses them with a strength that cracks its carapace. Craters form under his feet, carved in the monster''s bone plates. Ethan orders, "Get to the other side, into its ribcage, and destroy its heart."
Lucien nods and splits to the side. He clasps a necklace in the shape of Seraphel''s symbol and mutters to himself. Light Ether forms from the jewelry, and Lucien absorbs it.
The monster rolls to the side, its body turning upside down as Ethan forces it to twist its head. The titanic creature''s muscles yield against Ethan''s strength. He hears its neck snapping out and back into place, dragged back by black tendrils.
Lucien disappears under the boss, or rather above it. Ethan places the chains under his left arm and stabs Phantom Reaver at an angle to anchor himself.
Minions claw themselves out of its body, using their talons to climb towards Ethan. He sees River lifting herself from the tail''s side to climb above it, clearing its back. Stepping on the chain, Ethan presses against the boss to tension it and stand.
The minions multiply, rushing him like a wave of claws and scaled flesh. He extends his free hand, the other holding his blade, and traces the sigils of a Flame spell. The blue torrent of fire swallows the beasts, licking upward at the boss'' sides as it engulfs its back. They screech and fall, dropping like burning drops of gasoline.
Russ yelps from Ethan''s shadow, his eyes staring at the endless void below. Reaching the end of the excess life force, Ethan stops casting. The scorched flesh bursts with parasitic tendrils, mending the gaping wound.
"Radiant Lord of Light, hear the fervent call of your devoted servant." Lucien''s voice is loud, as if amplified by an unseen stage. "By your blazing light that purges infamy, grant me the strength to strike down my enemy. Let your divine fury flow through my sword, that I may cleanse the world of this evil lord."
''Did he make that prayer on the spot? I would have guessed they would be in Eldorian, not French.'' Ethan ponders. He hears monsters blooming around and in front of Lucien, protecting the heart. Pouring his Ether into Strengthening, Ethan climbs the chain to the boss'' neck.
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At the edge of the chain, Ethan summons both Tatiana''s saber and Phantom Reaver. He leaps and stabs them into its flesh, using the blades like ice axes. Alternating between weapons, he scales the beast, leaving behind a cascade of ichor.
Ethan sees Lucien running at the beating heart, ignoring the monsters rushing him. His blade shines like the sun, forcing Ethan to look away from it. He summons his M4 and fires a Piercing Shot at each of the creatures, sending them to the ground.
Lucien raises his sword high, the light coalescing into a beam that pierces the ochre sky. With a battle cry that resonates as loud as his voice, he brings his blade down. The sword slashes the side of the heart; a blinding explosion of light and Ether erupts from the point of impact. It sends shockwaves through the beast, cracking its bones and scales. Searing flames engulf the heart, the golden fire reducing it to charred remnants.
Ethan feels the beast convulse beneath him. It rolls back onto its belly, enabling Ethan to run back to its chains. He grabs them once again, forcing the beast to turn towards the platforms. It writhes and roars, losing lift every passing second. It plunges downward, hitting an empty ochre platform in series of cracks. Ethan jumps down, looking back to see Lucien escape the ribcage in time. River jumps off from its tail, rolling onto the ground.
The beast grinds against the platform. Its inertia brings it to the other side, where it falls into the depths of this place. Ethan stares down at Lucien, expecting him to attack.
Instead, Lucien runs towards the next platform, where Ivy kneels above Derek. Frozen monsters surround them, grown from ichor that feel in their aerial fight. The pool of blood, the paleness of his skin, and the emptiness in his gaze convince Ethan of Derek''s demise.
Kneeling to his side, Ivy sobs, her hands covered with his blood. An empty vial lies next to him, its contents drooling out of his mouth as his body won''t swallow it.
"Step aside," Lucien orders to Ivy. He clasps his necklace and mutters to himself. Light Ether appears from it, transmuted from Lucien''s own, and gathers around. "If his body is still viable, I can bring him back."
''How?'' Ethan thinks. Then he remembers how little he knows of the abilities and spells that exist. But if his body needs to be viable, why not heal it first? Ethan glances at the devastated expression carved on Ivy''s face. He asks, "Don''t you have a way to heal his body before trying?"
"No," Lucien answers. "Without his soul present, light Ether alone won''t heal his body. No matter how much I create."
The idea of revealing his spells to Lucien annoys Ethan, but deep inside he feels he owns Ivy and Derek. Ivy helped him in his fight against the lord. And Derek, despite his lack of power, took a selfless stand against them. Rest''s coldness surrounds the thought, trying to suffocate it. A flicker of something he doesn''t recognize breaks through the detachment. It''s an urge to help, to mend this broken body, and it catches him off guard.
''Why do I even care?'' Ethan ponders. It would be easy to let Derek stay dead. It wouldn''t give Lucien information. It would be a threat until he deals with the Paladin without angering Seraphel. Yet something inside him resists that cold calculation.
Ethan extends his own threads and grabs Lucien''s ambient light Ether to guide it into himself. Imagining the sigils of the Heal spell, he aims his palm at Derek and releases the spell. The wounds knit back together, restoring a healthy outlook. Still holding slivers of light Ether, Ethan directs the rest of the spell towards himself.
"How?" Lucien ponders aloud. His gaze falls back on Derek, and he summons more light Ether before holding his hands above the corpse. Stardust falls from them; Seraphel''s sigil carves itself onto the ground around Derek.
Screams, like thousands of souls howling in the rushing wind, pierce Ethan''s mind. He stumbles back, the impacts of loud metallic gates battering in a storm punching his brain. Russ leaps out of his shadow, rolling across the ground in pain as he covers his ears.
The coldness of Rest''s influence leaves Ethan, and with it the screams. He sees the sigil of Seraphel vanishing; Russ stops squirming but stays where he is, staring at Lucien.
Derek lifts his chest off the ground to cough potion and blood. He shakes as Ivy hugs him, a smile on her face. His skin is whiter than before, as if lifeforce had been taken from him, and he looks absent.
"How a necromancer like you, who recoils in the presence of his light, can use his spells, I can''t understand." Lucien turns to Ethan, but his hateful gaze moves to Russ. "One day, I will cleanse the world of your wickedness."
Ethan summons Dark Fate, hiding the dagger behind his forearm. Circling the Paladin, he threatens, "I hope you realize the gap separating us. You may try the ability you used against its heart, but I doubt you would even graze me."
"You gained yourself some respite," Lucien says. He looks at the first platform where the smears of the dead mix with dust. "Two lost their lives here. Thanks to you, I''m not among them."
"Are you okay?" Ivy asks, but Derek stares into the void. She looks up to Lucien and asks, "He''s going to get better, right?"
"Give him a minute," Lucien says. "Coming back is not a pleasant experience, and he will be weaker for a while. The last person I used it on took a few days to completely recover."
River reaches them and exhales, placing her hands on her thighs to catch her breath. "I''m sorry, I could only hold onto it. I would have joined you if I could, but it was too much for me."
"Good thing you didn''t fall," Lucien says. "I''d hate to have to scrape you off whatever pavement is down there. Saves me the paperwork."
She kicks him in the calve with little force. Ethan puffs, appreciating the dark humor. Curious, he asks, "Why did you enter this labyrinth?"
"I entered the labyrinths, not this one specifically," Lucien answers in an annoyed tone. He leaves River''s side to look at the red sky. "God commanded me to. He speaks to me in my dreams, sharing visions with me. I saw that sky, but more importantly, he showed the countless people who would die in those places. The sooner they are conquered, the less they will kill."
"You leveled up. Russ leveled up (x5). Melee Weapon (Spear) leveled up (x3). Melee Weapon (Long Sword) leveled up (x5). Melee Weapon (Saber) leveled up (x3). Melee Weapon (Great sword) leveled up (x3). Ether manipulation leveled up. Life force manipulation leveled up. You completed your fifth trial of the Labyrinth of Death, the Leviathan," the system announces. Light englobes the six of them, and Russ rushes to Ethan''s shadow.
"It is goodbye then," Lucien says. He opens his hand in a motionless wave. "Next time we meet, it will be to settle our score. I''ll make sure of it."
They vanish from each other''s sight. Distant chants of choirs replace the sounds of the turbulent winds. A flock of doves passes in Ethan''s sight as he sees a landscape of clouds and a large, golden garden gate.
Chapter 106: Heaven
''What now?'' Ethan ponders, taking in the sight of the golden gates. They lie open, with beams of light directing attention to them. ''I guess that after purgatory, the thing missing was heaven. I doubt Michael will let me enter though.''
Ethan glances down at his shadow where Russ'' eyes open, reassuring Ethan of his presence. Ethan triggers Predator''s sight and then Prescience to scan the surroundings.
Finding no sign of life or foretelling ghosts, Ethan strides to the open gates. The choirs grow louder and sharper, the hundred singers reaching their highest note.
Ethan passes the gate, and the world turns to the insides of a building. The sudden spatial change shocks Ethan, who takes a second to adapt to his new surroundings. He looks to the right, where the corridor he''s in bears wide windows through which he sees a garden. ''I''m home,'' he realizes.
Ethan''s sensations diminish ¨C his appetite satiates, and his burgeoning thirst leaves him. ''I doubt that place actually feeds me. If I stay long, I need to make sure I eat, even if I''m not hungry.''
A man, his face away from Ethan, tends to a rose bush at the feet of the mansion. His clothing feels familiar, but Ethan is unable to remember who he was.
A door opens at the end of the corridor. A woman, wearing a fitted, waist-length jacket in a deep forest green, steps into view. Underneath, she wears a high-necked blouse with soft lace frills that peek out. It looks dated, older than Ethan is.
Her auburn hair floats behind her as she steps through another door. She leaves the corridor for the main living room. Ethan''s glances to the side where a portrait, one that was destroyed in the fire, hangs. It depicts his parents, his mother wearing the same outfit as the woman.
Ethan breathes in deep, apprehending the mind games this place will try to play. He walks down the corridor and enters the room she vanished into.
His father stands along the bar, as he was on his last day, studying old maps sprawled on the marble. He places down a glass of liquor and turns to Ethan, motioning for him to approach.
The familiar scent of old books, leather, liquor, and a hint of his father''s cologne fills the air. Ethan''s mother stands in front of a window, her face away from him, looking outside in silence.
"Ethan," his father greets, his voice warm, filling the room with calm authority. He gestures at the maps with a glint in his eyes. "There are artifacts hidden within those mountains that beg to be discovered. And now that you have some time¡ well, I figured you''d want to come along."
Ethan realizes that he never saw his father from this angle. He even needs to look down, the man being a few centimeters shorter. Ethan swallows hard. His father''s excitement feels so genuine, so real, that Ethan nearly forgets that he''s gone.
"Dad¡" The word rings hollow in Ethan''s mind. His voice is a whisper, laden with grief. "You''ve been gone for over two decades."
His father chuckles, lifting his glass as if toasting to Ethan''s confusion. "Gone? I know my last expedition lasted longer than expected, but not that much." He takes a sip, studying Ethan.
Ethan''s mind dulls, and for a moment his father''s words ring true. Memories overlap with each other, mixing up Ethan''s sense of time. His gaze falls on a journal laid on the piano, where his father is thanked for donating artifacts to a museum.
Ethan closes his eyes, touching his brow. Trying to focus on reality, he recalls his training with Lucian, yet his father takes Four''s place. He remembers his father teaching him how to shoot, not with a m40a5 but with an old hunting rifle.
Ethan seeks another memory. He imagines the heat and places himself within the vision of his father''s death. Yet, nothing emerges ¨C he can only see the desk room, but not the killer, nor the fire.
''It''s trying to trap me into a¡ dream,'' Ethan thinks. He forces himself to remember, to burn in his mind that he''s in the labyrinth, pursuing Hayes. He reopens his eyes and turns around, moving towards the door.
The knob refuses to turn. Ethan forces, breaking the metal knob with his overwhelming strength. He looks at it and then breaks down the door with a kick.
"What are you doing?" Ethan''s father demands. "I doubt you learned to behave like an animal in Cambridge. Just what kind of life have you been living since?"
''It can invade my mind with foreign memories. Why ask about my life? Is it because I never wondered what it would have been?'' Ethan ponders. He looks back at the living room and states, "I am an assassin, a monster who kills when law, when society, fails to. Thousands lie dead because of me, and you killer is to blame for it!"
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The weight on Ethan''s mind lightens, stating reality aloud weakening this place''s power.
Ethan''s father rushes to him and grabs his arm. His grip binds Ethan with a strength that overshadows his, surprising Ethan. "Boy. What''s happening to you? Tell us. If you are ill, we can call ¨C"
Through his skin, Ethan can feel his father''s aura, stronger than his. In a way, it reminds Ethan of the intensity of Decay''s aura. Ethan pushes him away. Feeling his right memories returning, he insists, "I won''t play along. End this game already and send me to the next trial."
"Why?" his father asks. His voice is the same, but his tone shifted to a more solemn one. Straightening, he moves away from Ethan and crosses his hands behind his back. "Why would you reject the opportunity to abandon your wretched life and live the one that was taken from you?"
Ethan steps forward, mentally fighting the influence of this place. "You''re not real. You''re merely another twisted challenge of the labyrinth. For a moment I thought you brought back their souls, but they are only made from my memories. What you dared dress as my mother hasn''t spoken a word, but how could she? I never heard her voice."
"Is it not better than the pain awaiting you outside? There is no one waiting for you, so why not give into the dream? Let me show you; let me give you all the things you deserve." Its influence batters against Ethan''s mind, creating lapses, as if Ethan were dazed.
"No," Ethan growls, gritting his teeth. "I don¡¯t want your lies."
His father''s face darkens; he tilts his head, scrutinizing Ethan. "You''ve built walls so high, you no longer know who you are without them," he says. His voice returns to Ethan''s father''s tone. "You love no one, and no one loves you. The world would be better off without you. You failed everything I stood for ¨C you steal, lie, and murder! What purpose are you clinging to that justifies such misery?"
The accusations, shouted in his father''s voice, shake Ethan''s soul. Ethan narrows his gaze, his shadow flickering as Russ'' eyes grow brighter. He summons flames in his hand, letting them drip onto the floor.
"This is nothing more than a twisted echo made from my memories and mind," Ethan growls. He flicks his hand, bathing the living room in flames. He stops himself from moving the flames to his father, his guts twisting at the idea. "This is what really happened, and I will have the head of the one who haunts my sleep for it. Now release me!"
They hold gazes, the orange flames flickering in his father''s eyes. The room fills with black smoke that swallows the furniture and his mother''s form. The acrid smell and heat rekindle his memories, finally reminding Ethan of his trauma.
Ethan''s mind clears, giving him back his clarity, his pain, his hunger, and his thirst. His father straightens up, his features softening. The burning mansion vanishes and turns into an endless ocean of white. Only the creature, still dressed as Ethan''s father, remains.
"What now?" Ethan asks.
"Clearly, there is no reunion I have to offer that you will accept. Therefore, it is my duty to see you to your next trial," Ethan''s father says. "None of those that preceded you were able to refuse my gift as fast as you did; it pains me. I have seen a mighty king and heroes, yet I wouldn''t have thought the strongest willed of them to be an assassin."
"A king¡?" Ethan mutters. Among the two men he seeks, there is only one king. "Are you speaking of Christopher Hayes¡ Aranthor Elarion?"
"I''m indeed referring to the man you seek," his father says. "By some act of fate, it seems that, despite your tardiness, you''ll meet in the end."
''Is it another trap?'' Ethan ponders. It spoke of reunion, but implying that it can only use the dead could be a ruse to trap Ethan in a dream of his goal. Perhaps trying to change the subject could reveal its ruse. "What are you? ¡ I wasn''t teleported, which means you can shape this place at will in the most minute details. It''s clear you are amongst the strongest beings of this labyrinth."
"I am but a servant given a goal and the means to attain it," it begins. Ethan''s father circles Ethan, scanning him from a distance. "I feel a presence on you, one I¡ revere. There is another here, similar but opposite, for I hated him the moment he entered my domain. Tell me, assassin, what is it?"
"I can only presume you sense the goddess of death. For reasons I do not know of, she seems to have taken a liking to me," Ethan answers. "As for the other, if his hatred for me is anything like it, I think you detest his link to Seraphel, the god of light. Didn''t you see all that in my memories?"
It closes its eyes, and Ethan feels a pull on his mind. He resists it, apprehending the creature''s attempt at pulling him back into a dream. Yet, after only a moment, his mind clears.
"I see," it says. "My memories are, I think, clouded. Before the first of your kind reached my realm, I thought the labyrinth was all of existence. And yet I find myself learning that I''m just a twisted echo of a real god''s influence."
"Listen," Ethan cuts. "I do not have time to listen to your existential crisis. Could you do as your duty dictates and send me to the next trial?"
"It cannot be an existential crisis, for I live only for my purpose," it says. What an odd thing to say; doesn''t it fear vanishing with the labyrinth? It moves its hands to the front, an orb forming between its palms. "Perhaps you could deliver my essence to her, for a part of me to exist beyond the labyrinth''s end."
"You reanimate my dead parents, toy with my mind, insult me, and you think I would help you?" Ethan asks, anger boiling inside him. How does this thing, who still wears his father''s face, dare make demands?
The creature pauses, studying Ethan''s reaction with an unsettling calmness. The orb between its hands pulses, flickering like a heartbeat.
A pool of dark green forms at Ethan''s feet, expanding like a stain on the immaculate white. Russ eyes open in it, larger and brighter than they should. The creature recoils, holding the orb close to its heart. Ether expands from the darkened ground, electrifying Ethan by its touch.
"I don''t understand," the creature stammers. "Such anger at me. What have I done to offend her?"
''Is there something I cannot hear? Or sense?'' Ethan ponders. He looks down at Russ'' eyes and thinks, ''Leave it.''
The presence recoils into Ethan''s shadow. Thinking of it, how can he have a single, defined shadow in this place lit from every angle by white infinity? "Send me to the next trial. Now."
With a resigned sigh, the creature makes the orb vanish and raises a hand. Light envelops Ethan, and soon he feels himself vanishing, swallowed by it.
"You completed your sixth trial of the Labyrinth of Death, Heaven."
Chapter 107: King of old
The light vanishes; Ethan finds himself back in the gardens of Uruk''s palace. Spotlights shine at the night sky at the edges of the death Ether wall. Ethan looks down at his phone, which synchronizes with the network and updates the time. ''Four days,'' Ethan thinks. It''s more time than he experienced, but not a problem.
Russ eyes look at him from the shadows, and he leaps out. Prowling, he points towards the surrounding fog, where a dim white light pierces. Ethan triggers Predator''s sight to see a figure lying there and sense another man. The second stands atop the Ziggurat, hands behind his back.
The observer stares in their direction, a long coat flowing in the wind behind him. Ethan cannot discern his features through the fog, but he senses him through the Ether. His aura creates waves that swallow the tallest of Uruk''s buildings. Their length spans dozens of meters. They are painless, just as Ethan cannot sense he''s standing on a sphere hurling through space.
''Heel,'' Ethan orders. With Russ at his side, he approaches the gleaming spot and finds a man lying on his back, sheltered by a spheric shield. He wears clothes made of blue, scaled leather. Ethan''s glance moves to the man''s legs, blackened and disintegrating below the knees.
"It''s in the fog," the man struggles to say. He''s sweating despite the coldness of the night. "Green light, that''s when you know the flames will come."
''The bull,'' Ethan thinks. He looks back up at the Ziggurat, where the man is still standing. ''Did Aranthor not deal with that thing? Maybe he just arrived, but why is he staring at me?
A clatter of hooves echoes from the gardens'' corner. The immense bull of gleaming metal manifests from the all-encompassing fog. Liquid, dark green flames drool to the ground, necrosing the dead grass that remained. It whistles steam out of its nostrils, boiling the air before its titanic head.
Ethan glances back at who he assumes to be Aranthor, wondering if he will join the fight. But the man is still staring at Ethan.
Rolling cramps off his shoulders, Ethan strides forward. He reassures himself, "After the Leviathan, you don''t seem all that intimidating."
"You who defied death," a voice booms from the bull. It doesn''t move its maw; the words resonate from within its body. "You who defied the natural order will know divine punishment."
"I''d remind you that Ishtar sent you because Gilgamesh refused her advances. It wasn''t because he searched for and reached immortality. Your place isn''t in the labyrinth of death," Ethan quips. In the back of his mind, he hopes that his long lessons on antic history skip him this encounter.
The bull scratches the ground, fire smoldering out of its nostrils. It exhales, sending a pestilent wind towards Ethan and the shielded man. The stench wets Ethan''s lungs with molasses that stick to them. Russ hums the air, licking his lips. ''You''d eat anything,'' Ethan mentally mocks.
Ethan takes a breath despite the stench, focusing his thoughts. His hand ignites with flames, casting a dim light that dances on the gardens. The bull paws at the ground, building momentum ¨C a tremor that vibrates the earth.
Ethan''s gaze darts back to the man atop the Ziggurat ¨C his unflinching stare is unnerving. Ethan activates Prescience, and the bull splits with its potential future. ''I should limit myself to some abilities to keep an edge on him. Just in case.''
Ethan steps to the side as the bull charges, its hooves cracking the stone as it barrels past. Decaying patches extend in its wake, contaminated by its fiery drool. Ethan raises his hand, spreading fire to the bull''s flank. The flames glide off the metal hide, sending sparks flying to the ground. The creature grunts, shaking off the blast with ease.
Russ grows taller than Ethan and howls towards the night sky. A black mist rises from his fur and bursts forward, enveloping the turning bull. It seeps into its body and darkens its silvery glow. Fog extends from Russ, covering the gardens in a thick layer of darker-than-black smoke. Russ vanishes into it.
''So much for keeping our abilities secret,'' Ethan laments.
Ethan draws in enough Ether to fill Strengthening to its soft limit and bursts forward. Summoning Skysong, he impales the spear in the bull''s chest. He digs in deep and summons a torrent of flames along the spear''s shaft and blade.
The bull rears at the blow, and Ethan presses forward, keeping the monster with its front paws in the air. Russ emerges from the darkness like a shark and bites down on the creature''s tail. He dives back into his domain and drags the lower half of the monster with him.
It bellows, the distorted sound shaking Ethan''s bones. Green flames leak from the joints of its body, covering it in blazing fire. Russ'' shadow spits out the monster and recoils around its light. The flames burn brighter at the base of its neck, from where they pulse. Molten fire drooling along it, Skysong''s edge rusts at the flames'' touch.
Ethan sees the bull''s ghost exhaling fire and he bursts back. A torrent of flames engulfs the garden; Ethan leaps into the air, avoiding the necrosing waves. Russ'' eyes open behind the monster, staring at its blazing back.
Ethan lands behind the monster, who heaves itself to turn back around. Grabbing Skysong with both hands, Ethan steadies himself and stabs it at the flames'' core. The monster weight impales the spear into its neck, and its necrosing breath cuts off. It bellows in agony and hurls itself backward.If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.
The flames covering its body die down, and ichor, yellow and translucent like oil, pours out from the wound. It tumbles to the side, shaking its head as more ichor exits by its nostrils.
"You''re definitely lacking in comparison to the Leviathan. Are you supposed to be more threatening because you''re intended to be fought alone?"
Russ'' shadows grow back under the bull, reclaiming the ground its flames took away. He springs out, slashing through the metal in camouflaged assaults.
"I have seen enough," the man booms. He jumps down from the monument in a nonchalant leap and lands on top of the bull. Purple sigils carve themselves in a circular array on the ground surrounding them. The array glows brighter, searing into the ground.
A deep hum vibrates through the air. The metallic bull struggles, its body creaking and groaning under an unseen force. Sparks fly as metal plates buckle inward, its limbs collapsing under its own weight. The ground cracks and sinks, creating a shallow crater as the monster collapses.
It stops, and the man walks down the bull''s corpse, revealing the face of Christopher Hayes. His tall, muscular frame moves effortlessly, exuding confidence. Russ'' shadows recoil from him, creating a three-meter disk around his feet. His long coat settles around him, accentuating his broad shoulders and commanding posture.
His golden-blond hair, combed back, glint like a crown. Emotionless, his pale blue eyes pierce through Ethan, appraising him. Every step he takes is deliberate. He walks like nobility, emphasizing poise and control with his head held high.
Hayes'' face is chiseled, marred only by faint lines at the corners of his eyes and faded scars. He stops a few paces from Ethan. The purple sigils, still glowing faintly at his feet, fade away as he surveys the scene. Without a word, he turns his attention to Ethan, and for a moment, the gardens fade into insignificance.
Something stirs in Ethan''s mind ¨C a presence that recoils to hide from this man. Rest''s voice pierces through, "I''m sorry."
"Impressive, mongrel," Chistopher Hayes remarks, his voice deep and commanding. He glances to the side, staring at where Russ hides. "This is what I could say had you begun your journey at the same time as the rest of your world."
''What?'' Ethan thinks. He was prepared for an awkward conversation''s start, but not at an accusation so direct. He unsummons what''s left of Skysong to appear less threatening and clears his throat. "I ¨C"
Hayes cuts him. "When my descendants were slaughtered, a witness survived ¨C a guest they sheltered. Before the attack that spelled their end, a man visited. Tall, muscular, with crimson hair and an English accent," Hayes begins. "Looking at where we are now and seeing your allegiance, I can only conclude you colluded with the traitor. Where is he? Where is Caelum?"
"You are mistak ¨C"
"Do not dare lie, mongrel!" Hayes roars. "I will have the truth!"
Hayes steps forth and vanishes in Ethan''s Prescience. Ethan spins around, stopping a kick aimed at his back. The impact hurls Ethan into a wall, shattering it into crumbling blocks of stone.
"Your knowledge of my abilities is one more proof of your treachery," Aranthor growls. He extends his right hand, and a long, silvery blade appears in it. A hollowed fuller runs down its center, sheltering electric tendrils.
Aranthor shifts his stance; the arcs of lightning coil outward, illuminating his face. The air around the sword crackles, a scent of ozone filling the space.
As Aranthor steps forward, the ground beneath him trembles. He slashes into the air, hurling a lightning wave at Ethan. Foretelling the attack, Ethan moves out from the wall and sidesteps the blow.
"My father was the one who discovered your people," Ethan says. He summons Phantom Reaver, circling Aranthor. ''Hide,'' he commands Russ.
"Lies will not save you," Aranthor answers. He vanishes again, and Ethan bursts forward, avoiding a sword slash that weaves like a snake. He could only have parried this blow from the front.
"Caelum murdered him for one of your possessions!" Ethan bellows. He prepares a debilitating hex, staring at Aranthor. "He took an artifact from him, the missing piece of a ¨C" Ethan gags at the words, a force strangling his throat.
"Then he helped him all the same," Aranthor says. Anger grows in his gaze. What? Is this man insane? He believed Ethan, and yet he decides to continue on? Aranthor poses himself for a strike.
"I want him dead," Ethan says. If his visions are correct, Caelum caused Aranthor''s kingdom''s downfall. Shouldn''t he see that they are on the same side? "I sought you out because I knew you were his enemy. We don''t have to fight. I still safekeep all your other possessions, and I will give them back to you; they are yours."
"Child, I believe you," Aranthor bellows. His voice, like rolling thunder, leaves no place for doubt; this is the truth. "Now that I know what was, there is only the matter of your allegiance. The bond is weak, but it will not be left uncleansed."
''What?'' Ethan ponders again. He falls into his one-handed stance, convinced that Aranthor wants him dead. Hiding it behind his forearm, Ethan summons Dark fate and waits for his enemy.
Aranthor takes a step forward and bursts towards Ethan. His blade flows in the air, taking a snaking path. It would be unpredictable for someone not dotted with foresight. Ethan deflects the blade upward to Aranthor''s surprise. He unleashes the dark tendrils of his hex; they take hold of Aranthor''s body, digging into his chest.
''Martial skill echo,'' Ethan thinks, giving his ghost Phantom Reaver. He appears behind Ethan and swings at Aranthor''s head. The king parries the blade, but this move stops him from countering Ethan''s dagger strike.
Dark Fate bounces of metal, shaking in Ethan''s hand. He bursts backward, unsummoning his ghost and retrieving Phantom Reaver into his hand.
Aranthor''s golden armor shimmers, catching and refracting every hint of illumination. The plates fit together seamlessly. It is a marvel of craftsmanship that leaves no gap or weakness. Each articulation is fluid and precise, giving him full range of motion. It moves as if it were part of him, every step imbued with the same predatory grace. A crimson cape floats behind him, made of the same color as the rubies embedded in his pauldrons - wyverns'' heads.
The helmet, a masterpiece that boasts several layers of protection, retracts. Golden plates slide along invisible, silent rails, folding away to reveal Aranthor''s features. Aldorian sigils glow along the armor''s surface. Their light pulses to the rhythm of a heartbeat.
Aranthor closes the distance and swings upward. His blow propels Ethan into the air, the king''s blade making Ethan''s tremble. The impact shakes Ethan''s organs, rumbling his stomach, heart, and lungs. A lightning wave comes after him, splitting against Phantom Reaver''s edge. Ethan summons a Dermal shield, deflecting the electricity.
Hayes stabs his blade into the ground. He extends his arms and sigils carve themselves in the grass. They form into an overlapping array of spells, the word ''fire'' the most prominent of all. The rubies of his armor glow, shining their red light through the night and fog. Heat rises, and a column of fire bursts forth, climbing to swallow Ethan.
Chapter 108: King of old - Part 2
Ethan casts a shield to surround himself with. The column of fire engulfs the etheric sphere, biting on it with the sound of jet engines. Ethan grits his teeth as the heat gnaws at his shield, the roar of the inferno drowning out all other sounds. Ethan''s spell shrinks, driven back by Aranthor''s overwhelming power.
Sweat pours down Ethan''s face, sizzling as it meets the shield''s inner surface. The surrounding threads running low, Ethan fills his mind with rage to summon his life force. The shield densifies, repelling the flames as the column propels Ethan into the sky.
The fire dies down as he exits the column, hovering above its zenith and the clouds. Ethan unsummons his shield, taking a deep breath of Ether as the threads return. Despite his artificial anger receding, Ethan''s heart keeps racing.
The thrill of battle creeps into his mind, silencing his other senses. Not a day ago, he was loathing the thrill for being all he felt until he met Russ. Ethan kills that feeling. He opens himself to his surroundings to keep enough of his attention on Russ.
Ethan''s breathes in, filling his lungs to their maximum. Like pouring towards a depression of air, Ether engulfs itself into his heart. He overfeeds Strengthening, swelling his frame.
Diving back, Ethan summons Zhiznezhret and stabs it through the bull''s head. It convulses, and the dark green light of its eyes vanishes. Red whisps pour out from its body, and Ethan absorbs them, restoring and exceeding his life force. The bull''s life force is tremendous; it fills Ethan with tenfold his own.
Ethan''s Ether surges, more potent and overwhelming than before. Breaking through his ring''s restraints, Ethan''s aura spins like a typhoon. His muscles billow with steam, their power begging, screaming to be used. Ethan switches for Phantom Reaver. He bolsters Prescience and coats the sword in blue flames.
Aranthor glances around, examining Ethan''s aura as it disrupts his own. A smirk forms on his face as he steadies himself to block Ethan''s next move.
Ethan moves with a thunderclap, Phantom Reaver crashing against the king''s blade. Aranthor''s arms shake as he pains to oppose Ethan''s strength. Holding his breath as he charges, Ethan chains countless attacks. One breaks Aranthor''s guard, opening him for a downward slash Ethan executes at once.
Aranthor blocks with his forearm. Yet, as he glances down, he sees a melting gash caused by Phantom Reaver. While it wasn''t enough to breach his armor, it means this blade can wound him, even in his golden fortress. His confident gaze and smirk vanish, replaced by indifference.
Ethan presses on, Phantom Reaver striking Aranthor as he struggles with Ethan''s speed. Their steps shatter the air, each breaking the sound barrier as they fight through Uruk.
Aranthor summons an array of purple sigils on the ground, and gravity strengthens. Ethan''s joints scream as he hurls himself towards Aranthor. Using his entire, amplified weight, in the blow, Ethan strikes downward. Aranthor disengages, a deep, bloodied gash in his chest, as Ethan stumbles to his feet.
Ether coalesces from nothingness in sickening quantities and seeps into Aranthor''s body. The wrinkles of his eyes untangle, and his aura grows even stronger. He looks down at his hands and back at Ethan, a smirk on his face. Unsummoning his array, he shifts his stance, dropping his two-handed style for fencing.
Their blades lock, biting into each other with sparks and flames. They slide and spin their swords to breach their guards, staring at each other. Through their clash, Ethan can sense Aranthor has grown stronger. What changed? He didn''t open his status to raise his characteristics, nor did he trigger an ability. Did that Ether make him stronger in exchange for nothing?
Aranthor criticizes, "You are self-taught, mongrel; I can see it in the flaws of your stance and blows. Why would someone so strong seek to bow their head to a god? You are Ether blessed and can use life force. Why, you who fight with such passion, would serve death?"
"I''m not serving her!" Ethan answers.
"It appears you are strong enough to drive me closer to my heights," Aranthor begins. He breaks their clash and disengages. Spinning his blade before touching its edge, Aranthor takes a taunting tone. "Your blade yearns to flow as part of you, yet you hold it back by your stiffness. Your obsession to control its every move conflicts with its will to bathe in the blood of its enemies."
''A lesson, now?'' Ethan ponders. He circles Aranthor, focusing on his flow of Ether. His exceeding life force begs him to move, to burst forward, and to cut down his opponent.
"The labyrinth of death has been claimed," the system announces. "You obtained the Conqueror of the labyrinth of death title. You obtained the Conqueror of the first labyrinth title. Extra rewards have been granted."
A loot window appears in Ethan''s sight, obscuring Aranthor''s movements. The king''s blade strikes Ethan''s at an odd angle, breaking his guard as Phantom Reaver escapes his grip. Aranthor chains with a downward slash.
The world slows down in Ethan''s perception. The thrill of battle comes back. It drowns Ethan''s pains, tunnelling his senses towards Aranthor. With Russ hiding in his shadows, Ethan could give into it. Aranthor is too strong for Ethan, or at least he''s too strong for the current one. Ethan lets the thrill through, calling forth his past self and its bloodthirst.
Every fiber of his being explodes with exhilaration, the thrill flooding his mind. It drowns out reason and hesitation, leaving only raw instinct and power. There is not room for preservation, no space for doubt; there is only Aranthor.This book is hosted on another platform. Read the official version and support the author''s work.
Ethan moves behind Aranthor''s reach, grabbing his armed arm under his left elbow. Summoning the Purgatory''s hands, Ethan punches Aranthor''s stomach. The blow squeezes blood out of Aranthor''s nose. Ethan moves his left gauntleted hand to grab Aranthor''s wrist and coat it in blue flames.
Aranthor drops his sword to extricate his burning hand and bursts backward. Ethan lunges forward, grabs Aranthor''s cape, and pulls him into the ground. Aranthor''s helmet reforms, shielding his head from the impact. Ethan lands on top of Aranthor and unleashes a series of punches. Each impact craters into his armor, the heat of Ethan''s life force flames melting its metal.
Aranthor vanishes, and Ethan spins around. Lunging forward, Aranthor extends his right hand towards Ethan to summon a spear. The weapon cuts Ethan''s side as he twists to avoid a lethal blow.
He grabs Aranthor''s spear and rotates his chest, pulling back the shaft and hurling his fist at the king''s. It connects with his face in a series of cracks and hurls Aranthor through five buildings. They collapse, lifting large clouds of sand in his wake.
Spinning Aranthor''s spear forward, Ethan aims at the flying, golden target. He coats the weapon in a Lightning bolt, making it crackle in the air as it flies off in a sonic deflagration.
Aranthor vanishes, avoiding his own spear before it strikes a wall and pulverizes it. Ethan spins around and sees the king diving to grab his fallen blade. Ethan catches his golden-plated arm and crashes him into the ground.
Aranthor punches the ground, hurling himself into the air to escape Ethan''s hold. Ethan lets go of the arm and grabs both Aranthor''s blade and Phantom Reaver.
Ethan swings as the king descends, but his target vanishes. Using the momentum of his first blow, Ethan slashes behind him with Aranthor''s own blade. It connects, digging into his armor and biting into his side.
Aranthor catches his blade''s guard, stopping Ethan from cutting deeper into his torso. Aranthor''s gaze shifts to something behind Ethan. There is no one else here, and the wall keeps the people outside. It''s a distraction, a trap Ethan won''t fall into. The king pulls back to wrench his blade from Ethan''s hold, but Ethan takes it into his inventory.
Russ leaps out of the shadows behind the king; Ethan''s thrill of battle vanishes. His senses expanding, he hears a deep hum vibrating the air, rising into a crescendo. The giant, camouflaged dog pounces against Aranthor''s backplate, bringing him to the ground.
''Shadow,'' Ethan commands. Russ dives into Ethan''s, vanishing from sight.
Ethan''s excess life force runs low, leaving him only a few precious seconds as Aranthor''s equal. He grabs phantom Reaver with both hands, hurling it to ram the blade at the base of Aranthor''s neck. Blinding light beams through both of them in Ethan''s Prescience. He leaps to the side, avoiding a ray that strikes Aranthor, splitting across his armor into a jet of golden fire.
Uruk''s buildings vanish into coal-like dust, revealing the sands below. The wall of death Ether falls, its shimmer vanishing from sight. Figures stand where Ethan was teleported, hundreds of people. Some are bloodied and weak, crawling on the ground; others cower behind small dunes, and a few stand upward. Amongst them, one approaches, draped in light, his eyes beaming in Aranthor''s direction.
Like a beacon of light, Lucien illuminates the desert. The ray of golden flames originates from his hand. Something shakes Ethan''s inner Ether. A downpour of light Ether descends from the skies onto Lucien, seeping into him.
Ethan triggers Predator''s sight to spot all the people who appeared. He senses Lucien''s heart beating at an unsustainable rate, close to cardiac arrest. He sees Ivy and Derek, Anders and Rowan, some of the faces of the lord''s challenge, and Grant cowering in a corner.
A tear in space forms where the Ziggurat stood. It yawns open like a gaping maw, ten meters wide. Energy crackles at its edge, shimmering between hues of deep violet and ethereal blue. The portal swirls and churns with a power so immense that the air vibrates and the ground quakes.
A torrent of Ether explodes outward, rushing into the barren expanse with the ferocity of a storm. The surrounding threads densify, turning as powerful as those of the other world. Towering trees and verdant plains appear on its surface, a mirror to another place. The light of day pierces through, illuminating a cone of the nighttime desert.
''The portals appear once the labyrinths have been conquered,'' Ethan realizes. ''It isn''t a matter of time but a checkpoint to wait for someone strong enough to appear on this side.''
Lucien''s scorching ray dies down. Aranthor climbs out of the molten sand that surrounds him. Another wave of Ether coalesces from nothingness and seeps into his body. His armor falls off in chucks, first his arms and his helmet, and then his chest plate. He wipes his face, flicking off red magma drops, revealing deep burns.
"The Paladin I sensed. Always the one to make the most noise with your heralds," Aranthor says. He unsummons the remains of his plate armor and calls forth another set. The tunic made of cloth and gems radiates with blinding brilliance. Golden plates reinforce his chest, a star embedded on his torso. He extends his right hand, and another blade appears. The long, straight, thin, black long sword drools dark smoke, covering the ground around him. "Ho Ninshar, I require your company for this fight, so you may revel in the blood of a god''s puppet."
The blade hums. Dark veins grow from its handle and onto Aranthor''s forearm. His muscles swell, and his eyes bleed to black, leaving only two blue pupils.
"You are weak," Lucien booms. His voice is not his own; it rolls out like thunder, deeper, each word shaking the sands. "Four centuries have ground your mortal form to dust and decay."
"Had it only been four hundred years, you would kneel in my presence," Aranthor says. He passes Ethan, walking towards Lucien. Aranthor''s voice breaks ever so slightly. "Four hundred years ago, these worlds stood remote. I''ve seen more of their history than we know of our own. I was there when they took their first step. I was there when they discovered war. I was there in these mongrels'' darkest moments."
"I understand, child," Lucien intones, his voice heavy. "How wretched it must have been for you¡ªstripped of power without the elder God''s grace. How it must have torn at your soul to watch, unable to command, unable to shape their fates as you deemed."
Ethan glides over a small dune, shielding himself from their sight. He takes out his phone and opens N.E.S.T.''s hidden application. Not wanting anyone to hear he messages Tombstone. ''Out of the labyrinth. Surrounded by army. Dangerous fight with Hayes. Ready anonymous exfil.''
"My strength is returning; soon, I will walk back to my kingdom," Aranthor says. He points his sword at Lucien, dripping smoke onto the sand. "Once again, I will erase you from the mongrels'' lives, rob you of your power, and put an end to your schemes."
Ethan breathes in deeply, recovering from the overuse of Strengthening. The conversation between Aranthor and Seraphel makes him feel out of his depth. How long has Aranthor been among them? Why didn''t he always shelter the pendant''s shard with him? Why didn''t he return to Kingsreach with a dungeon stone? What are Caelum''s weaknesses? Why does Caelum want to form a new god? So many questions he thought of asking before all was gone to shit.
"Your recovering strength may yet falter against the might of this vessel," Lucien proclaims, his voice echoing. He steps forward, a radiant blade of light manifesting in his grasp. "I have longed for our battles. If this is to be our final clash, then let us expend every shred of our power; let this be a struggle sung of for eternity."
Chapter 109: One true sovereign
Aranthor and Lucien lunge forward in sound-breaking charges. Their blades collide with a blast of light and darkness, splitting the place between day and night. Their towering auras clash like opposing storms on the desert sands.
The black blade hums louder. Its touch corrupts Lucien''s sword, bleeding its black into the Paladin''s blade. They disengage and come back at each other, their weapons clashing in a display of force. Each blow or parry sends ripple through the Ether. The intensity of that unnatural aura forces many to crouch and hide, fearing to be struck by a thread.
Lucien''s blade shines brighter; the next impact propels Aranthor through dunes, creating distance. Lucien extends his left hand towards the night sky and closes his fist, sending Ether far above.
The stars shine brighter. They descend like flares, forming head-sized projectiles, trailing cosmic dust behind them. Passing the clouds, they arc towards Aranthor and Ethan. Ethan breaks into a run; countless projectiles crash behind him in blinding explosions.
''Even now he tries to kill me,'' Ethan mulls over.
Aranthor weaves through the descending attacks, soon clashing with Lucien, who''s unaffected by them. Aranthor bursts backward, creating a gap, and swings his blade at the air. A wave of shadows emerges from it, swallowing the sand as it grows and widens.
Wings made of metallic, golden feathers manifest on Lucien''s back, propelling him above the tsunamis of darkness. The survivors of the labyrinth run away, struggling to move in the sand. The wave falls on some, ending fifty meters away from Aranthor before sinking into the ground.
Those who lie slain by his attack rise, their skin turning black and slick. Shell-like armor grows from their bodies, encompassing their frame in something akin to plate armor. Leathery wings showing blood vessels sprout from their back, ripping what''s left of their clothes.
Lucien thunders, "Ever the first to sacrifice your own kind in pursuit of your ambition."
"These mongrels are not my kind," Aranthor retorts. He draws in Ether, extending his left hand towards Lucien. His blade hums louder, and the beasts answer with their own rhythm. They fly into the sky, rushing Lucien with bared fangs and claws.
"This is the sole mercy I grant you," Lucien growls, his voice seething with finality. He raises his left hand, summoning a cone of radiant fire. It swallows their winged forms, casting them into oblivion with but a touch.
Arrays of spells appear in a sphere around Lucien. It bursts with fire, its heat radiating to Ethan, turning the little water present in the desert to steam.
''Whomever wins will come after me,'' Ethan thinks. He summons Dark Fate and stabs the tip into his forearm, transmuting part of his Ether to dark Ether. If he only gets one shot at his enemy, he''ll need to weaken them as much as possible.
Aranthor''s spherical array vanishes, and its flames with it. Lucien stands in its core, shielded by a sphere of light, untouched by the flames. He dives at Aranthor, their blades clashing once again as they create a sand fog with every step.
Ethan''s gaze falls on a glinting pile of items in front of the portal. He looks to the side, where the loot window endures.
Labyrinth of death (B)
Ability book: Soulsight (C)
Characteristic point (x5)
Deathvein crystal (B)
Death Ether crystal (x5)
Gravecall (Scythe)
Gold coin (x200)
Soulkeeper ring (B)
Spell book: Blight
--- Extra rewards ---
Ability book: Wraith''s touch (C)
Ability book: Banshee''s howl (C)
Characteristic point (x5)
Deathvein crystal (A)
Dungeon stone: Starfell kingdom castle (A)
Spell book: True death
''Great,'' Ethan thinks. He opens his status and affects four points to strength, four to constitution, and two to perception. Switching to Russ'' status, who shared the rewards, he uses five points on his strength and five on his constitution.
Ethan looks down at his shadow. Russ'' eyes open in it, staring back with concern. Ethan glances back towards the lights that surrounded the death Ether wall. Vehicles approach from their position, raising a sandstorm behind them. ''We could run off through the portal. But we won''t have any other way back. And by the time we want to come back, some army will surround it. We could take our chances in the desert, but I think they are both faster than us.''
"How have I longed for this thrill," Lucien booms. He summons a shield, pushing Aranthor away, and draws in Ether. Light coalesces around his blade, brightening his already blinding edge. Swinging, he propels a wave that cuts the desert. Aranthor mimics Lucien''s move, creating a dark wave of his own.
The attacks clash, skidding to the side of each other. Aranthor''s blade catches a running man, severing his body in its length. Lucien flies above Aranthor, following his first wave with countless others. Their force sends shockwaves through the sand, creating craters where it touches the ground. Lucien soars higher; he descends, his blade poised for a thrust.
Aranthor meets Lucien''s descent head-on, his blade swelling with darkness as he feeds it Ether. The desert howls in protest to the clash of their swords. The winds they cast unmake the dunes, revealing and moving rocks.
Lucien breaks the engagement by twisting in midair, using his wings to thrust himself to the side. He extends his left hand to the sky and soars high. Another wave of falling stars comes at Aranthor, ignoring Ethan this time.
The king swings his blade in hastening slashes that propel blades of darkness, each striking a falling flare. Their distant clash illuminates the night in countless, blinding explosions.
The falling stars struck on the side change course instead of being destroyed. Some fall on the bystanders, pulverizing the unlucky few.
Under the cover of the blinding lights, Ethan breaks into a run. He moves to the portal and brushes over every item of the loot pile, transferring them into his Inventory.
Three descending flares move more vividly. Ethan can sense each of Lucien''s projectiles, but not these three. At the edge of the clash, they coil around Aranthor''s blades, and, far from him, dig into the sand.
Lucien''s spell intensifies; the descending stars grow in number but lose in precision. Aranthor''s distant slashes adapt as he weaves them closer to each other, focusing his attention on the near beam of light.
The three digging flares spring from behind Aranthor. One strikes him in the back, the others unable to reach him as he vanishes. He reappears in the air, behind Lucien, and strikes downward. Though parried, the blow craters the flying Paladin into the ground.
Taken by gravity, Aranthor descends. He unleashes a tempest of black blades in his fall, keeping Lucien where he is. Nearly reaching his target, he summons his gravity spell on the ground. His speed explodes, and he strikes Lucien with a blow that collapses his guard and takes his left shoulder.
They weave through the desert, Aranthor pressing his advantage with quick blows aimed at Lucien''s left side. Lucien''s flesh reforms, his arm regrowing from the stump. Yet, spots of his skin and hair fall from him, turning to dust.
Ethan catches a glance of Aranthor''s exposed back, his muscles made bare by Lucien''s spell. Bits of flesh flutter at the edge of the wound, falling as he tears them in his sudden movements.The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.
Lucien regrown offhand drips with golden flames. A deep, rising hum appears from him, its intensity heightening as waves of Ether rush to his palm. His sword beams once again; the next clash of blades propels Aranthor back dozens of meters. Lucien raises his left hand, and a beam of radiant fire conquers the night.
Aranthor extends his left hand, and a white scorching ray emerges from it. Their spells clash with each other, the confrontation closer to Aranthor than Lucien. The ground quakes. Heat and energy spiral outward, turning sand to glass.
Sweat streams down Lucien''s brow, evaporating to steam as it leaves his skin. His blade brightens, widens, and lengthens; he pours as much Ether into it as into his radiant beam. Sparks of white lightning jump from his weapon, striking the sand and disintegrating it.
Aranthor digs his heels deep in the sand, his left arm trembling. He summons a glass bead between his right fingers, filled with swirling red whisps. He throws it in his mouth and bites down; his flames turn blue, focusing into a tighter beam. They pierce through Lucien''s attack, eating away at his spell and threatening to swallow him.
Aranthor teleports behind Lucien and swings at his back. Lucien, expecting his opponent to strike as he still deals with the spell, spins around. The blue fire swallows Lucien''s frame.
Lucien, burned alive, strikes with his empowered blade. It collides with Aranthor''s black sword in a blinding explosion of light and Ether. Aranthor''s form drags through the desert, parting dunes in its path. He stands up, his right arm hanging limp at his side, holding a blade snapped at the third. Skin, from his right hand to shoulder, disintegrates, exposing torn muscles.
Lucien flies into the skies. His shirt and back burned away, but his muscles and flesh regrow far beyond even the accelerated capabilities of the human body.
Aranthor extends his right fingers, dropping his broken blade. It melts into the sands, creating a shadowed lake amongst the desert. Tendrils spring from the ground, hurling at Lucien with spike-like tips. They coil around each other, making their paths unreadable without Prescience.
Lucien dives down, deflecting the tentacles he can, being struck and pierced by those he cannot. His wounds heal in seconds, yet other parts of his body, like his skin and hair, disintegrate further, turning to flowing sand.
Lucien''s thrust breaks Aranthor''s defense; he stabs him through the guts, his blade of light piercing to the other side. Aranthor grabs Lucien by the neck and summons his fire column''s array. It bursts forth, illuminating the night with white and blue hues. Lucien form is taken by the jet of fire, burning away his clothes, skin, and flesh.
The fire dies down, and Seraphel''s light leaves Lucien''s burned corpse. Despite his scorched state, he grasps his heart as he collapses to the ground.
Aranthor pulls the blade of light out of his stomach before it vanishes in his hand. Blood seeps out of his body, his muscles contracting to limit the flow. He kicks Lucien to turn his body and make him look at the sky. "One of many," Aranthor mutters. Black tendrils rise from the ground, reforming his full blade as he angles it above the Paladin.
Another wave of Ether manifests from thin air. This surge of power stuns Aranthor for a second, making him avert his eyes as he arches and stumbles backward. Ethan contracts his muscles to burst forward, but he senses something moving in the Ether, between him and his target.
Lucien vanishes into mist. Appearing on the ground, a set of small prints moves away from the position. River holds her breath, refusing to draw in Ether. But she must be panicking to have overlooked the obviousness of her tracks.
Engines roar, rushing towards them. Ten Jeeps and APCs reach their part of the desert, illuminating Aranthor with spotlights. "Hands up, knees on the ground!" a loudspeaker yells in broken English.
Ethan sighs at the soldiers'' boldness born of only stupidity. Those vehicles come from the late Soviet era. And, judging by the speaker''s accent, he''s in the presence of Middle Eastern forces. He could have played European of American soldiers, posing as a mere survivor before escaping. But with these unknown forces, he cannot assume anything. He hopes that Tombstone can do something to extract him, or he''ll have to steal a vehicle and escape through the desert. But for now, the winner of the duel lingers; he refocuses on Aranthor, readying his hex.
Aranthor glances at the armored convoy and disappears. The sand lagging to respond to his sudden move, he dashes to face the convoy, his blade posed at the side. The vehicles brake in an arc around him, unloading soldiers. They aim rifles, machine guns, and cannons at him, yelling to obey and surrender.
Ethan triggers Predator''s sight to count the soldiers, hoping to get some useful intel as they speak over the radio.
"You were given the boon of Ether, and yet I see none of you using it. You would rather crawl under your unworthy masters'' protections. You think yourselves untouchable in your machines, but that time has ended," Aranthor says. He stabs his blade into the ground, extending his able arm. "Let me show you."
Sigils carve themselves in the sands, forming a circle of spells that envelops all the vehicles. They open fire; the bullets crater against his skin or skid past it. The 14.5mm of the single BTR-80 strikes him harder, crushing his muscles and cracking ribs. A column of white fire, fivefold the one Ethan suffered, engulfs them, turning their forms to smoke and slag.
"You have my thanks, mongrels," Aranthor says, his back turned to them. "Thanks to you both and his pathetic god, I returned. I had to relinquish my powers millennials ago to preserve my body; they are mine once again. For this, I will make you their first witnesses in this new age. Powers like you could never dream of achieving."
His aura, the invisible wave that pulsates the threads of Ether, grows, rising higher than Ethan can sense. Its effects on the Ether become more agitated, creating pockets of violence that lash out on the survivors. They recoil, fear taking hold of their expressions. Five threads lash at a man from five different directions, five echoes of his aura, and disintegrate him. His ashes float away, filling the air with more rotten stench of burned flesh.
Aranthor turns to them, detachment filling his gaze. Despite his wounds ¨C the stab in his guts, the burns of molten sand, his skinned back, and his limp arm ¨C he moves unhindered. He utters a single word only Ethan understands. Yet everyone obeys. "Kneel."
One by one, they place a knee to the ground, bowing their heads while gritting their teeth. The Aetherian command is undefiable. Anders stabs his glaive in the sand, struggling to keep himself up for one more second than everyone else.
Aranthor steps towards Ethan, his gaze on River, who still maintains her Veil. He unsummons his dark blade and extends his arms, breathing in the night air.
His words echo not through the air but through Ether itself. "Behold, mongrels, and tremble before the one true sovereign, the unparalleled ruler of realms, the conqueror of worlds, the one and only King." Light bends around him as Ether flows into his body, creating a void as far as Ethan can sense. "Eternal Sovereign."
Blinding light covers him, forming a nighttime sun that illuminates the world around them. It recedes only enough for Ethan to see Aranthor''s form ¨C a white knight bathed in light, a glowing cape flowing in a non-existent wind. A spectral crown shimmers above his head, absorbing every strand of Ether coming back to them, leaving none for Ethan.
"Witness the one who transcended mortality," he roars, his voice shaking the world. Ribbons of light manifest in his hand, forming a silvery long sword coated in translucent flames. He steps forward, each of his strides bending Ethan''s perception of space.
''Move!'' Ethan screams in his mind. His body ignores his commands and stays immobile, kneeling before Aranthor.
"Behold the perfection of might," Aranthor proclaims, his eyes glowing with fierce fire. He swings his sword in a flawless arc; the weapon moves with blinding speed. It calls forth a blade of Ether that follows in its wake, growing with each instant. The air seems to part in reverence as the sword cuts through it.
Ethan''s mind reels as the sword approaches, unstoppable and inevitable. Desperate, Ethan calls forth his life force, filling his mind with his father''s murderer''s image. He wills his mouth to pronounce a single word, not in English, not in Eldorian, but in Aetherian. "Move!"
Ethan''s Ether rushes into his throat, the word unleashing it upon his surroundings. Aranthor takes a step forward as Ethan bends to the side. The blade curves upward, sending the wave of Ether not to decapitate everyone but into the air. It parts the clouds, snuffing out the columns of smoke rising from the molten vehicles.
"What?" Aranthor stammers. A wave of Ether pierces through Ethan, and a window appears in front of the king. His jaw hangs, and he stumbles back, his mouth stuttering unspoken words. His aura breaks into a frenetic tempest; his crown vanishes along his armor, and he falls to one knee. He coughs out blood, his own Ether thrashing against his flesh and burning it. Aranthor''s unleashed aura slams into Ethan, burning his heart and lungs. "I don''t believe it. You lie! You made that up to distress me. ¡What am I saying? You couldn''t have known."
Ethan bursts backward, searing daggers piercing his chest, stabbing his heart. Aranthor''s crown dispelled, the threads of Ether return. Struggling to move, Ethan restores his reserves to trigger Strengthening.
Aranthor''s frenetic aura whips at cowering people, turning chunks of their bodies to charred dust. They scream, holding their scorched limbs, crying in agony.
"Do you know what I sacrificed?" Aranthor booms. He giggles ¨C a sound of pure, unbridled madness. His body moves like a puppet, his muscles unable to coordinate with one another as he twists around. "I did as they asked; I purge the world of the gods. And now?! Now they give it, and more than I had, to Kaliathra''s puppet."
Ethan steps back, Aranthor''s aura pushing him away. He extends threads of Ether, forming a net to shield himself from the tempest. Summoning Phantom Reaver, he coats the blade in flames.
"It doesn''t matter," Aranthor mutters. He extends his left hand, and his black blade appears once more. "Ho Ninshar, I require your company for this fight, so you may revel in the despair of the will of the world. ¡ I''ll claim your life and resume my work. May they be on my side or not."
Vines sprout from the sand, trapping Aranthor''s weakened body in their thorns. Frost coalesces in the air around Anders'' glaive as he steps forward. Aranthor''s blade bleeds on the vines, the touch of its black ichor melting them.
''It''s not a fight you can join; you are too weak,'' Ethan thinks, glancing at Anders. His consciousness edges towards slumber, his painful heart struggling to sustain him.
Chapter 110: Regicide
A rapid-fire drum solo fills the air and transitions into a guitar riff ¨C a fast and shredding melody. Two Bards, including Rowan, stand atop the highest dune. Their guitars scream with a metal edge, aggressively electrifying the atmosphere. Ethan''s pain vanishes, strangled by this musical painkiller.
Aranthor sighs and lunges forward, swinging his blade in a wide arc. He is faster than in their earlier clash, but his wounds and out-of-control aura hinder him.
Ethan deflects Aranthor''s blow. Their blades move upward, drawn by each other. In a move faster than Ethan can react even with Prescience, Aranthor kicks Ethan in the chest. The blow pierces through him, sending ripples of pain through his ribs as it hurls Ethan into the air.
Anders comes at Aranthor, thrusting his glaive at the king''s chest. Aranthor contorts, moving his torso to the side to avoid the blow. Anders overextends as if he struck true, his perception too slow to follow Aranthor. The king extends his dodge into a slash, his blade aimed at cutting through Anders¡¯ chest.
A loud gunshot echoes through the air - the aftereffect of an Archer in scaled blue loosing an arrow at Aranthor. The king smirks and reverses his grip on his blade. Anders still oblivious, Aranthor grabs the man by the armor and heaves him into the arrow''s path. It pierces through Anders back, striking a lung.
Anders exhales in pain and punches down on Aranthor''s wrist, breaking his hold. Vines bursts from behind Anders, grabbing him by the chest and taking him away from the king.
Grasping it between his fingers and the handle of his sword, Aranthor summons a vial of red liquid. He bites down on the cork and tears it off the vial.
Spinning in the air, Ethan summons his Glock and shoots at the potion, striking true and spreading it in the sand. Aranthor growls and motions his blade upward. A wave of shadows rises from the ground, threatening to swallow Ethan.
Ethan''s own shadow takes him just in time, yanking him from the path of the wave as he was preparing to leap over it. He''s taken to a mirrored, spectral version of reality, drenched in muted grays. Shadows churn like swirls of black smoke. Moments and space stretch and compress, causing bursts of clarity and dizzying distortions.
Ethan lands, his feet touching the shifting ground, as if he weighs nothing at all. Russ heels at his side, his form darker than before, clouded in black smoke. Ethan surveys the distorted battlefield. The echoes of the Bards'' music linger, resonating within the shadows.
Moving through this realm is like moving in a dream, each step taking tremendous will. Ethan pushes on, rushing through the wave towards Aranthor. The real world''s sounds filter through ¨C muffled, a dream-like echo.
Aranthor avoids arrows, sidestepping and twisting out of their ways. He swings at the air, propelling dark blades at the Archer, forcing him to dive out their way. Why isn''t he using his teleportation ability? Could it be a consequence of his lost grasp on his own Ether?
Through the shadow realm, Ethan reaches the back of the wave, where, in its absence, he is thrown out. Lunging forward, Ethan reaches the king in his exit of Russ'' realm. Aranthor extends his arm and summons his fire array, engulfing Ethan in it. With a snap of his fingers, Ethan silences the Ether, surprising Aranthor, who cannot block in time. Ethan''s blade bites into Aranthor''s abled shoulder, his flesh hard as steel.
Ethan''s spell negating The Bards'' power, all the pains return, flooding his senses. He moves back, holding his heart as each beat overtakes him with agony. He ends his spell, and the sounds kill the pain.
Aranthor drops his blade into the ground. It melts, turning to a lake of shadows reaching Ethan. Black tendrils shoot from it, forcing Ethan to backtrack and escape them.
The wave takes the life of three cowering bystanders. Turning them into winged beasts of slick, black skin and carapace armor. The darkness hums, and the monsters fly off towards Rowan and his partner.
Anders exchanges a glance with Derek. The later breaks into a run towards the Bards. ''Guard,'' Ethan commands, pointing at Derek. Russ leaps out of Ethan''s shadow, swollen to a size higher than his master. He gained muscles, his form now hulking and shredded. Russ bolts to join Derek, his speed raising a sandstorm in his wake.
Reaching high into the sky, the tendrils arch back to strike Ethan outside of the source''s reach. He weaves through them, stepping ever farther from the lake. On the other side, Aranthor aims his palm towards Ethan, Ether rushing to it.
Remembering the spherical array used against Lucien, Ethan rushes into the tendrils. They whip at him. Using Prescience, he weaves through their attacks, ducking, leaping, and sidestepping them.
Aranthor''s hand closes, summoning his sphere of sigils around Ethan. The latter summons his life force, bursting forward with a thunderclap. The spell ignites behind him, repelling the shadowed lake and melting the sand.
Feed by life force, Ethan closes the distance and slashes at Aranthor. The king summons his gravity spell and stops Ethan, the force too powerful for him to even lift his arm.
Ivy summons a spear-like ice spike and lashes it forward, coating it in spiraling winds. Aranthor glances at it and extends his arm to grab Ethan, aiming to use him as a shield.
"Stop!" Ethan commands, using his remaining life-force-infused Ether to speak Aetherian. It binds Aranthor in place, Ethan''s Ether acting like chains around the king.
"Move!" Aranthor commands too late. Aimed for the king''s head, the spear arches to the ground, taken by gravity, and empales his left leg.
They both jump back, exiting the gravity spell. Aranthor''s command forced Ethan''s body to use such strength that his legs burst with pain. He feels unsteady, his legs twitching in burning spasms.
Derek and Russ overtake the flying beasts, reaching the Bards a moment before them. The first of the three lunges for Rowan. Russ snatches it by the leg, dragging it to the ground before pawing it, his claws cutting through its skull.
Derek parries another, using his blade to shield himself from its claws. Russ grabs Derek''s opponent by the wings, shaking it in his maw. It spreads the monsterized man into flying chunks of flesh and bones.
Aranthor''s blade comes back to him, reforming from rising black tendrils. He slashes at the ice spike, breaking it into shards. His leg wound drools with blood.
The last of the beasts fly above Derek and Russ, lunging for Rowan''s duo. Rowan strikes the wrong chord, unleashing a sound that pierces the monster''s eardrums. It grabs its head and falls past its target. Russ rushes at the monster and snatches its head right off.
Ethan and Aranthor come at each other, clashing steel in a tempest of blows. Their blades tremble, the impacts making Phantom Reaver and Aranthor''s dark blade vibrate. Despite Aranthor relying only on his left arm, his restored strength surpasses Ethan''s.This narrative has been purloined without the author''s approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.
River manifests behind Aranthor and stabs her dagger into his liver. He twists his entire body and kicks her in the stomach, sending her flying in a gust of sand. She takes her dagger with her, and blood flows out of his wound.
Taking advantage of the distraction, Ethan lunges at Aranthor with a wide, brutal blow. Aranthor swings before even looking, coming at Ethan''s blade from the side.
Phantom Reaver flies off Ethan''s grasp, taken by a maneuver of Aranthor''s blade. Ethan continues the striking motion and summons Aranthor''s electric long sword. The blade cuts Aranthor''s chest, skidding on his ribs but opening his stomach.
Aranthor''s black blade comes back at Ethan from above. Ethan moves in to come behind Aranthor''s reach, aiming a thrust at his heart. The king contorts out of the path of Ethan''s attack. He twists his black blade upward and hits Ethan on the head with its pommel.
Ethan''s vision spirals as the impact sends him reeling. He parries another blow and disengages from Aranthor. Shadows warp and elongate, and the high-pitched hum of metal blurs. Every sound carries weight, echoing as if underwater. The edges of Ethan''s sight distort, Prescience''s ghosts turning to raw patches of color.
The Bards'' relentless riffs reverberate through Ethan like electric current, killing the pain. Ethan centers himself, forcing clarity through the haze and refocusing on his target. Aranthor holds his stomach, his guts apparent through the wound.
Aranthor dodges another ice spear. As the king''s gaze moves to the distant Ivy, Ethan rushes him. His legs protest every step, his damaged muscles twitching with burning pain. The rhythm of the Bard''s guitars spikes along their voices.
Aranthor roars, his voice twisted with pain and fury. His aura flares, tendrils of Ether writhing and lashing out. Unable to use Prescience on the threads, as Ethan doesn''t see but rather senses them, he can only dodge so many. Ethan lashes out with the electric long sword, sparks trailing in its wake. The blades'' impact propels a crackling blade of lightning that shocks the king.
Ethan twists with the momentum, following up with another blow. He feints right and lunges left, his blade arcing for Aranthor''s disabled side. Aranthor returns to his full senses and shifts, his body twisting away. The last second dodge leaves Aranthor open for a split second. Ethan seizes the opportunity. He drops low, avoiding a blow, and drives his shoulder into Aranthor''s midsection. The blow knocks the king off balance, overwhelming him with pain as it squeezes out guts.
Ethan channels flames into his blade, turning it into a blazing arc of fire and lightning. Aranthor''s eyes widen as he sees the strike coming, his weakened body unable to keep pace. He lowers his black blade, but it''s too late. Ethan''s long sword cuts clean through Aranthor''s knees, severing his legs. The force of the strike sends Aranthor to the ground, his back against the sand.
Ethan doesn''t pause. He steps forward, his nerves screaming in agony. Deflecting a last, desperate blow, Ethan drives his blade through Aranthor''s able elbow. He twists the longsword, separating the severed joint in a pop.
"It''s over," Ethan says. He stands above the defeated king, pressing Aranthor''s blade on its owner''s neck. The king looks at Ethan with defiance, not an ounce of fear in his eyes.
Considering all the threats neutralized, Ethan commands, ''Come, shadow.''
"What are you waiting for?" Aranthor barks alongside a gulp of blood. "It''s only fitting that you''ll be the one to kill me. Tying up a loose end."
"We could have talked," Ethan mutters. "I followed you into the labyrinth to inquire about Caelum; I had no intention to attack you."
"You wouldn''t understand," Aranthor retorts.
"That you hate the gods and couldn''t stomach the¡ will of the world''s infidelity? You call us mongrels and decided to kill everyone here to show up your powers. Had I not been lucky; had I not spoken Aetherian, there would be no survivors of the labyrinth." Ethan says. "So no, I do not understand how someone who calls himself a king can give human life so little worth."
The words feel hypocritical to Ethan. He doesn''t care about the people surrounding him either. But never in his right mind would he unleash his strength on them in such a maniacal display.
"Lucky," Aranthor murmurs with a laugh. "Mongrels have no worth. You''ll see one day, when everyone you knew will have long turned to dust. They will repeat the mistakes of their ancestors and their ancestors before them. They are no better than cattle, of no value unless bound to an iron will."
What kind of life turned him so insane? Still keeping his foretelling gaze of the king, Ethan triggers Insight. The window, depicting him as Christopher Hayes, is obviously tempered with. But it''s already evident to Ethan that the man before him is a high-human, like himself. His mind suffered from a single year of total seclusion; what would be left after millennials?
''Guard,'' Ethan commands, hearing Anders heavy footsteps approaching. A shadowed lake spreads from Ethan, creating a wide area around them. Russ leaps out of it, growling.
Anders comes to a stop. He calls, "What are you waiting for?! We need you to heal River and the Paladin; come on!"
"You will kill him, won''t you?" Aranthor asks, dazed.
"I will have his head for what he did," Ethan answers, the subject of their exchange clear to both.
"Good," Aranthor mutters.
"You asked about Caelum''s location before, so you won''t know where he is. But where is he likely to be? Where did you fight him last before hopping to our world?"
The blood flowing out of Aranthor''s wounds dries up, his heart racing to keep him awake. "It''s in Kingsreach, at the bottom of the royal academy of magic."
"Is there any other place like it? Can he build another one?" Ethan asks.
"No," Aranthor admits. "We found no other. Its secrets belong to a realm that has been sealed from ours; no one knows how to build another."
"What is he trying to achieve?" Ethan asks.
"I don''t know," Aranthor admits. "For a long time, I thought he too was chosen by them, but I was mistaken. He¡" His voice trails off as his consciousness fades.
Ethan sends a Lightning bolt into Aranthor''s chest; it doesn''t jolt him awake. Rowan''s music cuts off, and the pains return. Ethan catches his heart, the organ pierced by a searing firebrand. He forces a last effort and slashes through the king''s throat, the flesh resisting him.
"You leveled up. Russ leveled up (x5). Melee Weapon (Long sword) leveled up (x5). Melee Weapon (Saber) leveled up (x5). Melee weapon (Spear) leveled up (x5). Ether manipulation leveled up (x3). Life force manipulation leveled up (x2)," the system announces.
Aranthor''s blade hums, calling out to Ethan. Russ growls from Ethan''s shadow, sensing the danger. Ethan finds himself hesitating, his left hand trembling as it moves towards it.
"We don''t have any potion, please," Anders calls. The voice drags Ethan out of the trance.
''I would have needed one. I need to heal myself first,'' Ethan thinks. His heart bursts with pain, as if the muscle tore off in half. It still beats, but Ethan''s Ether leaves him, the organ unable to hold it anymore.
Helicopter rotors echo, approaching their position. ''Shadow,'' Ethan commands, not wanting the vehicle to fire upon Russ. He melts into the ground, and the lake of darkness shrinks down to reform Ethan''s shadow.
He glances up to see a black, unmarked Blackhawk, the sight bringing relief. Picking up Phantom Reaver, he walks away from the body, dragging his feet. His sight darkens as his body struggles to move forward, every beat of his heart an agony.
Lifting a sandstorm, the Blackhawk lands in front of Ethan, and six soldiers exit it. They are clad in thick armor, armed with battle rifles, bearing no markings. Ethan senses Ether-dense metal in their plate carriers and other protections. A soldier stays inside to man a M2 Browning mounted instead of the usual M134 minigun. The machine gun is loaded with tungsten SLAP rounds. It must be a measure taken to handle bulletproof targets.
Five of them form an arc behind Ethan, walking backward as he advances. The last one places himself under his arm, easing his steps towards the helicopter. The soldier helping Ethan takes out an injector filled with red liquid. He stabs it into Ethan''s jugular, releasing the cold stim into his blood. "Healing potion, sir."
"You were fast," Ethan mutters.
"We were waiting nearby," the soldier answers.
Anders runs at them, his shouts muffled by the engine and blades. Ethan can feel the potion healing his legs and skull, but it does nothing for his heart.
"Sir?" one of the soldiers asks.
"Warning shots, no more," Ethan answers.
The soldiers fire five rounds each at Anders'' feet, purposely missing by a few centimeters. The armored man stops, yelling at Ethan. He tries to decipher the sounds, but it comes as a blur.
Ethan grabs a second injector from the soldier''s plate carrier and throws it at Anders. The soldiers all see the gift but say nothing. The one aiming the machine gun grabs a box of rations and water behind him and lowers it to the ground.
Ethan steps into the helicopter, and the soldiers join him. The pilots lift them off the ground and take them to the skies. A soldier cuts open Ethan''s shirt before moving his gloved hand around his chest.
"Ether burns on the heart, cracked ribs, commotion, ..." Ethan''s mind trails off as his eyes close and a deep slumber takes him.
Interlude I – Enemy unknown
''Your brother was accepted in the royal academy. I''m sure you wouldn''t want us to speak about it, but we know it''s thanks to your High-priest''s recommendation. Thank you. I hope you''ll soon be free to come visit us. Love you. Mom,'' Althea finishes reading. She folds the letter and slides it in one of her pouches with all the others.
"My Lord," a young squire salutes. He carries with him her large, silvery kite shield, freshly mended by him and other squires. Althea tries to recall his name, unsuccessfully. The large dragon on the shield reflects the light of their campfire in Althea''s eyes. "Do you need anything else?"
"Thank you. Go see if Garrick needs your help," Althea commands. She grabs her shield. The smooth surface under the decorations reflects her image, that of a battle-hardened knight. She hates those faint scars on her cheeks and brow, marking her ivory skin with beige streaks. Once light Ether healed those, but she grew too accustomed to it. Her braided blond hair seems lost in the silvery plate armor that encases her. She places the shield down on the tree trunk acting as her seat.
"Yes, my lord," the squire says. He runs off to Garrick''s watch position.
"You look like shit," Leofric booms. The black-haired burly man carries two bowls of steaming stew in his gigantic hands. He sits down beside her, his black plate armor cracking the layer of bark covering the fallen trunk. Handing her a bowl, he says, "Thank you for healing my leg."
"No problem, you look like shit too," she says. "Thankfully that Scaleketh didn''t tear it off; I couldn''t have healed that."
"The bastard would have run off with it if it hadn''t held until Julia casted her spell. Would have had to hunt it down hopping on one foot to avenge myself."
"It''d be dead by then; indigestion," Althea quips.
Leofric snorts at her comment. "Its hide will be enough to clothe an entire squad of scouts back in Kingsreach. And I must say, it tastes good for a lizard."
She looks down at her stew and lifts a chunk of white meat with her spoon. It looks edible. Althea mouths the spoon and bites down on the meat. It is chewy and bland, like badly cooked white fish. She comments, "At least the vegetables and spices make up for it."
Armand, the platoon''s lieutenant, approaches from behind them. The man removed his armor, preferring to wear his black uniform when in camp. Despite its sharpness, it hides much of the man''s frame. "The squires we lost today are buried in the clearing on the way to our camp. See that they are given consecration before we move out."
"I will, Lieutenant," Althea says. She takes another spoonful of her meal. ''Weren''t they buried by a priest? Thinking of it, I haven''t seen any since we left Kingsreach.''
Althea looks over the camp. The scouting squad enters its premise, coming back from their reconnaissance mission. ''Shouldn''t there be more of them?'' she ponders. She counts them and finds ten out of the twenty she expects. ''They must have split during their mission.''
She looks around, scanning the various squads of bowmen and spearmen resting in their designated tents. While it feels small, the improvised position shelters an entire platoon ¨C five squads of archers, five of spearmen, a heavy infantry squad, a support squad, the scouting squad, five mounted messengers, and four knights. And it''s without counting the squads'', camp''s, and knights'' squires. The messengers'' griffins seem restless; someone must have forgotten to feed them.
It isn''t uncommon for a Lieutenant to command such a force, apart from the knights. How did Armand convince the Knight-Captain to lend them to him?Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site.
Leofric coughs. "What are you thinking about?"
"I''m wondering why we are here," Althea answers after a bite. "Have you ever seen four knights for a single platoon? Someone wants to make sure our young lieutenant comes back alive."
"You are younger than him," Leofric quips.
"Doesn''t matter," Althea retorts. Where she''s a warrior trained since childhood, he''s the son of the local Duke, who was likely appointed Lieutenant on connections alone. "I''ve seen his likes. He talks well and speaks of honor, but the moment things get serious, he will break. I wouldn''t be surprised if he sacrifices the entire platoon so he may survive."
"Don''t let him hear you say things like that," Leofric comments.
"What would he do? Report me to the Knight-Captain, or better, the church?" Althea retorts. While the knights help the army, they are not part of their chain of command.
"After enough reports, they might just do something about it," a deep voice says from behind. Althea turns her head to see Garrick unwillingly sneaking up on them. His black and green leather armor, covered with local leaves and branches, makes him hard to discern. "We are here because it was deemed necessary."
"We are here because a Duke wants us to be here," Althea reiterates. The meal unappetizing, she lays down her spoon and hands Leofric the rest of her soup. He grabs it as he places down his own, empty bowl. "The oracles have rarely been so vague in their presage. Usually, it means that the threat is not really one. I bet we will find some goblin nest threatening to raid a village."
"It''s because it is vague that we should be more cautious," Garrick says, sitting down. "It is the complacency, the arrogance of safety, which will be your downfall."
"I know my lessons; thank you," Althea says, annoyed.
"Knowing is not enough; it would do you good to apply," Garrick reprimands. He shakes her hair with his gloved hand. "How many times have I repeated the same teachings in the last three years? One day I''ll give up on you if you keep ignoring them."
"She only lacks experience," Julia, the last of the four knights in the vicinity, comments. She approaches from the side, dressed in a majestic blend of a dress and a mage''s tunic. The bodice is fitted, adorned with silver sigils, each thread shimmering as she infuses them with her Ether. Flowing down from the waist, the garment transitions into a cascading shirt. Its layers of deep blue rippling like water with each movement.
Revealing her hands, hidden below long, flowing sleeves, she grabs Garrick''s face and pulls him in for a kiss. The back of the dress reveals her skin, showing a concentric tattoo written in sigils unknown to Althea. Althea glances to the side, embarrassed by the display of affection.
"You don''t flinch when someone''s guts fly out of their bodies, but a little kiss still scares you?" Leofric pokes.
"Don''t mock her," Julia says, finally letting go of her husband. The tone with which she said it worries Althea as she expects a following quip. "She will get accustomed to it when she finds herself a spouse. If that ever happens."
Althea''s tension spikes, creating pressure in her temples as she tightens her jaw. Will there be a single day where Julia won''t mention Althea''s celibacy? It''s not her fault; she''s one of the youngest of her social class. What is she to do? Go against tradition, risking being put aside by both her orders to court someone lower than herself? Or is she to settle for an old man?
"She''s only pestering you because she is jealous you are a class above her," Althea thinks. Following old traditions, Valleria separates its people into ten ranks. Althea being an ex-adventurer, knight, member of the church of Seraphel, and having ascended, she ranks at the fifth echelon. Had she not vowed to not own land, she would be a baroness. Sadly, barons tend to be twice her age.
"If everything goes well, our mission will be over soon," Garrick says. He removes a spider that escaped his leaves from Julia''s shoulder. "I wonder where we''ll be sent next. Though I doubt we''ll be together for a while."
Leofric gulps the rest of his soup and places his bowl down. "I heard adventurers talking of orc raids in the west. Seems like some small tribe, but you know how the king is about orcs. That''s where we will be next, guarding the frontier for months without action."
Althea sighs. "With his new court, it could take months for them to respond to that ¡ threat. With some luck, we will already be elsewhere when they do."
Julia huffs, announcing the superior intellectuality of the remark to come. "Duke Felspar''s army is in maneuvers three days away from here. Sir Faewin, Ashmere, Vorath, and Lady Lyris are overseeing the mock battles. They have been with his army for a year and will soon be relieved of their duty to the duke. We will be their replacements."
"Is that actual information? Or are you guessing?" Leofric asks.
"Predicting," Julia retorts.
A squire comes running at them. He stops a meter away, breathless, and relays, "Lieutenant Viremont requests your presence at the commandment tent."
Interlude I – Enemy unknown – Part 2
A squire pours Armand a glass of wine before leaving the commandment tent. He motions them to approach the table laid in the center, illuminated by a hanging lantern.
"You required our presence, Lieutenant," Althea says. The way she said it doesn''t feel right to her, too respectful.
Leofric enters after her, his frame almost too big and large for the tent. He steps past Armand to observe the maps placed on the tables. Garrick slips in silently to place himself on the edge, leaning back on a thick wooden pole. When Julia enters last, she purposely brightens her clothes, shining the light of their sigils on the tent''s furniture.
"The scouts lost half of their members," Armand reveals.
"What?!" Garrick bursts, lifting himself from his relaxed posture.
"There wasn''t a fight," Armand says. "The soldiers they lost vanished without a trace. They stopped answering signals, and when their teammates went to check on them, they found nothing, not even tracks."
The tension in the tent rises as the knights exchange glances. Garrick is the first to break the silence. "A predator able to snatch trained scouts without a trace? That sounds like Obscurants."
The guess doesn''t feel right to Althea, who hunted one of the shadowy beasts before. "No, they live alone. It wouldn''t have taken ten people; it should be one every three to four days at most."
Leofric scoffs, leaning against the table to observe the map. "There are deep tunnels in the nearby mountain. What about a bunch of Shadowtresses?"
Julia clicks her tongue. "Absurd. All the recent sightings are in Caeloria. If we had a pack of them here, the nearby villages would have been attacked for being in their territory."
Althea''s mind rushes through dozens of memories; a lot of monsters could snatch someone without a trace.
"Can I finish?" Armand asks.
They turn towards him as he swirls his remaining wine. "One of the scouts saw something. A humanoid sneaking away from them, a large staff on its back."
"And they didn''t catch him?" Julia asks.
"They tried, but it lost them," Armand answers.
"Cultists," Leofric sights. "At least this will be expedited with your forces. But still, ten men? And this far remote?"
"I''ll go find them," Garrick says. "They won''t escape me."
Armand finishes and lowers his glass. "I recalled every squad to the camp. Tomorrow, we will investigate the villages. But we won''t take the risk to lose someone else tonight; it seems to advantage them."
"With all due respect," Julia begins, meaning none. "We are not your underlings. If my husband deemed best to handle the situation himself, it is his right."
"We know almost nothing of our opponent. There is no guarantee that they will be your lesser," Armand says. "It''s the complacency, the arrogance of safety, which will be your downfall."
The four knights glance at each other, stunned by the lieutenant''s use of their codes.
Armand sighs. "I know you do not respect me, my authority, or my decisions. But I trust you will abide by your own teachings, for all our sakes. If not, I''d rather see you relieved from your duties."
Garrick leans against the tent''s structure, giving up on arguing. It must hurt him to see the codes used against him, he who follows them adamantly.
"Very well," Julia says, glancing at her husband. She turns around, her dress floating around her. "If this is everything, we''ll take our leave until tomorrow morning. Good night, lieutenant."
"Good night, lady Sildane," Armand says as she leaves with Garrick in tow. He turns to Leofric and whispers, "Dealing with her is exhausting."The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.
"I can hear you," Althea says.
"Do you think otherwise? Lad¡ Baroness Drevoss," Armand asks. The way he spoke her title and name was infinitely more respectful than for Julia.
"No," she admits. In truth, she cannot stand Julia''s remarks and ego. "But still, you shouldn''t speak ill of someone behind their back."
Armand smiles. "You are right, it''s not distinguished, is it? Anyway, once we secured the villages, I count I can trust you to heal the villagers you can. Maintaining a good image is beneficial for the army, the knights, and your church."
"Yes, sir," Althea says. Once again, she regrets the reverence in her tone. Something annoys her; it should be the task of the priests accompanying the army. "If I may ask, do you know why there are no priests among us?"
"When I requested them, I was told the Citadel of Light was dealing with an internal matter necessitating all their attention." Armand leans back on his map table, crossing his arms. "I thought you would know more than me on that matter."
As Althea is both a member of the church and a knight, she would only be called if absolutely necessary. "It must not be a dire matter; otherwise, I would have been informed."
"Let''s hope so," Armand says. "You''re dismissed. Take care tonight; I can only recommend ensuring your tents are guarded. They could have followed the scouts to the camp."
"Will do," Leofric says as he exits the commandment tent. Althea follows as the lieutenant returns to his maps.
On her way back, she notices that griffins in the messengers'' enclosure are still restless. Their wings twitch as they sniff the air and emit low, throaty growls. She brushes it off as nerves for the intelligence she just obtained.
A cold sweat jolts Althea awake. Her heart pounds in her chest as she sits up in her bed. She clenches her jaw, trying to shake off the useless panic. She sits at the edge of the bed and checks that her sword is still under it.
A gust of wind lifts the edge of her tent, engulfing cold air into it. Her nightgown offers little protection against the chill, but her body itself suffices. Her breath fogs as she resets the uprooted stake. The camp seems quiet, save for the crackling of the fires and the rustling of guards making their rounds.
A quick, disjointed conversation happens outside her tent. She tries to decipher the gibberish, but her mental fog stops her. It seemed urgent nonetheless, and she slips out of her tent.
The two sentries notice her presence, their eyes widening slightly at the sight of the knight in her nightwear. She blushes, and they straighten, aiming their gaze to a far point.
"What''s happening?" she asks, covering herself with her arms. She didn''t think of her state before exiting the tent and regrets it now.
"We have nothing to report, sir," one of the sentries says.
"What were you talking about? It sounded urgent," she presses.
"We haven''t spoken for like¡ an hour," the second sentry says.
Althea re-enters her tent and grabs her sword. She moves to the side and lifts the fabric, opening the tent where the stake was uprooted. She finds bushes behind her tent but sees nothing¡ no one hiding among them.
She moves back inside and checks her entire gear. She finds everything ¨C her armor, weapons, shield, potions, and satchels. She stops on the satchel holding her personal letters, finding it worryingly light. She opens it and finds nothing inside ¨C all her letters gone.
"Sound the alarm," she commands the sentries outside. "There are enemies in our camp!"
Armand paces in front of Althea''s tent as she finishes dressing up. "Are you sure you didn''t misplace them?" he asks through the fabric.
"I stored a letter inside tonight," Althea answers, fastening the clasps of her gauntlets. In armor, she exits the tent to find the lieutenant surrounded by an entire squad.
A squire runs towards him to report. "Sergeants Mudrick and Hayward are missing documents, both personal and official."
"Enemies in our own camp," Armand sighs. "Reinforce the troops at the gates. Find them! But do not step outside our fortifications; no one is allowed to leave."
All but one of the soldiers scamper around. Armand stares at him with a questioning expression.
"I thought you wanted us to guard you, sir," the soldier says.
Armand motions towards Althea. "I think an ascended knight will be more than enough. Search the camp."
"Garrick is probably outside already," Althea says as the soldier leaves.
"I saw him first," Armand says. "He''s on the observation platform."
Althea sight bursts with light. She''s taken to a vision, one of the near future, seeing as she finds herself standing beside Armand. His head explodes, a high-speed spell striking him from behind. She returns to her senses and spins to place her shield behind Armand. Nothing happens.
"You just had a vision; what''s happening?" Armand asks, drawing his sword.
"Someone killed you," Althea says. She places herself to encompass Armand between her armor and her shield.
"Guards!" Armand calls. Five men arrive in an instant, their blades raised towards the direction Althea stares at.
Garrick darts on top of the palisades, landing before them to scan the camp. In a minute, the section is overrun with soldiers, but they find no one.
''What kind of Mage can prowl like that?'' Althea asks herself.
Armand frees himself from her and orders, "Wake up everybody! We''re on high alert for the night! No one leaves, no one enters."
"You shouldn''t stay outside," Garrick says as he approaches them.
"I won''t cower when assassins roam my camp," Armand hisses. He steps towards his commandment tent. "Once I put on my armor, we''ll check that everyone who pretends to be a soldier is indeed one of us."
Interlude I – Enemy unknown – Part 3
Hidden far away behind trees and bushes, Althea watches over the village of Cinderhold. Two infantry squads are questioning its inhabitants, knocking at each of the fifty or so buildings. Their archers prowl in the forest, closer to the village, to ensure the soldiers safety and potential retreat.
Althea rubs her tired eyes. They spent the night questioning soldiers and found nothing. Not a spy hiding among them, and no one who even saw anything. She sighs, hoping that they will find and end them today; otherwise, tonight will be as restless.
They have questioned half the inhabitants already, but so far, they haven''t found anything. Althea cannot hear them, but the absence of precipitation or agitation is just as good.
She glances at the villages surrounding. Besides their side of the forest, the only hiding spots are in the forest opposite to theirs. It''s sparer in vegetation and on a steep incline that would make any retreat hard for anyone hidden there. Only a high-level Archer would be a threat to them, but shooting would be suicidal.
The rest of the village''s surroundings are composed of open plains and plowed fields. It would be impossible for someone to hide there, and once again, if they are discovered, it would be impossible for them to run away.
She closes her eyes and summons a sliver of light Ether through her oath. Even if she knows she shouldn¡¯t use it for selfish reasons, its ability to reduce exhaustion makes it worth it. ''What I wouldn''t give for some coffee. Why can''t they just put it in the army''s rations?''
She thinks of Julia, who''s still in the camp, most likely sleeping. Why is she the only one that was deemed unessential to the mission? Althea would have liked to sleep too.
She doesn''t see him, but Althea knows that Leofric is somewhere behind her, shielded by a hill with the infantry squads. They have been waiting for hours and still have two villages to investigate. The wait must be eating Leofric alive; he''s probably praying for an attack just to get moving.
Garrick stands near the tree line, his camouflaged tunic making him hard to spot for someone oblivious to his presence. His eyes turned to a deep green, a sign that he''s enhancing his sight to see far away. Althea double takes toward him, realizing he''s tensing his bow.
He''s aiming somewhere in the opposite patch of forest. Did he see someone hiding in the leaves? Or in a tree? Althea lowers herself, scanning the hill once more.
She hears the muffled snap of a branch coming from there. She looks back at Garrick to see if it was his arrow and finds him falling to the ground. His bow drops from his hands as he clutches his stomach. He lets out a scream as he tries to stand up, blood seeping through his fingers.
The archers stand up, drawing their bows towards the sound. A war horn blows from behind Althea. The soldiers investigating the village turn around and rush toward them. From behind Althea, the three remaining spearmen squads charge forward.
She puts on her helmet and runs towards Garrick. He moves and tries to crawl behind a tree. Althea flattens the vegetation in her path, her armor weighing four times her own weight. A spearman crosses her path, and she jumps to the side to not crush him.
The trees shatter around them; hundreds of spells, like a hailstorm of needles, pierce the trunks. Archers fall to the ground, sprays of blood ejecting from their bodies. Furious, unceasing clatters, like a thousand hammers beating metal fill the air.
Althea reaches and kneels beside Garrick. His stomach is torn, open below the ribs. She visualizes the runes of a Heal spell, drawing light Ether from her oath. His flesh knits back together, but he screams louder. He vomits ichor, turning to the side to not suffocate.Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit.
Heavy infantry behind him, Leofric advances through the barrage of spells. Sparks ricochet from his tower shield, the spells unable to pierce his defense. More powerful spells come at him, forming craters into his shield as he runs forward.
A bush rises from the leaves, heaving a metallic log above its shoulder. It throws fire behind it and smoke forward. A crack of thunder echoes as blinding fire passes through Leofric.
The light recedes, and Althea sees a scorched hole in Leofric and his shield. He falls backward to the ground, exposing the heavy infantry. The spells reach them, stopped by their armors as they cower back. A larger, more powerful projectile pierces two of them. Another is hit at the back of the knee, where only chainmail protects him. It tears through, bringing him to the ground with an agonizing scream.
"Retreat!" Armand orders from behind. "Retreat!"
Althea heaves Garrick on her shoulder and runs towards Leofric. Her shield, placed to protect her load, takes several undamaging hits. A spell strikes her in the leg; its force almost makes her trip. She reaches Leofric, attaches her shield to her back, and heaves the giant on her other shoulder.
The spell storm ends, as if their mages flew away. A thick white cloud emerges uphill, descending like a volcano''s ashes. Figures move in it ¨C three, maybe four people. They vanish as the smoke thickens.
Althea runs back along with the retreating soldiers. She finds Armand carrying wounded archers away from the battlefield, clad in black plate armor. Behind cover, she lays down the two wounded.
"The enemy is fleeing too," Armand says. He places the men he''s carrying beside Leofric and Garrick. Returning to the other side, he orders, "Form a triage here, heal those you can, and get the healthy to move the wounded back to camp!"
"Where are you going?" Althea asks. He doesn''t answer as he vanishes from sight towards the fight. Althea takes a sigil of Seraphel from her pocket and prays. "Radiant lord of light, grant me power to heal these broken souls, to mend what has been torn, and to bring hope where shadows threaten to consume life."
The sigil pulses in her hands. Golden tendrils of Ether radiate from her, formed from the Ether she absorbs with every breath. She absorbs them, filling her heart with light Ether, and kneels besides Leofric.
She places her hands over the gaping hole and channels a Regrowth spell. It takes tremendous amounts of Ether, but the power reforms his vanished spine, guts, muscles, and skin.
Garrick isn''t waking up, but having already healed him, she moves to the archer. Armand brings three others and places them down beside her. "Those were still breathing."
He vanishes back towards the battlefield, motioning for soldiers to follow him. They bring back as many as they found, often too late or with fatal injuries.
She heals them one by one, closing wounds that went from one side of their bodies to the other. One by one, able soldiers take them to be brought back to camp or place them on the side to be buried later.
Leofric stands up from the ground, touching his healed wound. Blood seeping through his helmet, he asks, "What happened?"
"You got hit by a fast, very fast fire spell," Althea says. She stands up and walks towards Garrick. "Why aren''t you waking up? It''s not the time to nap."
She unclasps her right gauntlet and presses two fingers on his throat. Her heart skips a beat as she cannot sense his. She panics and rips his tunic to look at the wound she healed. His chest is swollen, distended, and bruised on the flanks. His skin turned pale and cold. Blood pours out of his mouth as she touches his swollen skin.
Tears form in Althea''s eyes as she casts another Heal spell. It gives back its colors to Garrick''s skin, but he doesn''t wake up. With his heart stopped, Althea knows she cannot bring him back.
"I''m sorry," she pleads.
"Mourn later," Leofric commands as he rises her to her feet. He motions towards the soldiers Armand and his men are still extracting from the forest and the village. "Help those you can."
Althea swallows her grief. Her limbs turn heavy, but she forces herself to stand, wiping the tears from under her helmet. She kneels beside another soldier, a young archer clutching a broken arm, the bone jutting out in two places. She presses the fragments back in place, drawing a scream from the boy, and heals him. His wounded bone and flesh reknit, leaving a large scar.
One by one, Althea moves through the triage line, trying to save as many as she can. Each spell pulls on her link to Seraphel, and she can feel her hands tremble from exertion.
"Althea," Armand calls, his voice low. He steps beside her, his armor streaked with blood. "We have to move out. More of them may come, and we can''t risk being surrounded. We''ll have to transport them wounded. Can you heal the worse ones on the way?"
She nods, exhaustion weighing on her shoulders. They oversee the retreat, ensuring no one is left behind. Althea and Armand cast a final look at the battlefield and leave it behind.
Interlude I – Enemy unknown – Part 4
Back in camp, silence looms over the soldiers, broken only by the stoic sobs of grieving survivors. One by one, they lower the corpses recovered hours after the battle into the ground. Garrick''s burial will not happen here; his body will be sent back to Kingsreach, where a knight''s tomb awaits him.
Althea stands stiffly, her eyes swollen with exhaustion and sorrow. She wears a white priestess robe, steeling herself to appear strong when she gives these fifty-three men their last rites.
Althea''s eyes drift to Julia''s tent, from which she hears muffled sobs. Her feet feel leaden as she approaches. She stops before the tent, taking a deep breath, and raises her hand to part the flap.
Julia sits hunched over Garrick''s body, her hands trembling. Her tears fall in streams onto his tunic.
"Julia¡" Althea''s voice is soft and careful, but the sound breaks the stillness.
Julia whirls around, her face twisted by grief and range. "You!" She rises unsteadily, her eyes blazing with pain. "How dare you show your face to me?"
Althea takes a step back, her chest tightening. "I came to¨C"
"To what?" Julia spits out the words, stepping closer, her body trembling. "Where were you, Althea? You were supposed to protect him!" She strikes out, her palm connecting with Althea''s cheek. It doesn''t hurt her, but the emotions it brings draw tears from her eyes.
"I''m sorry, Julia."
"Sorry? Sorry, won''t bring him back!" Julia screams, her voice cracking. "All you damn power that everyone praises you for, your strength, your invincibility, and your damn holiness ¨C and still, he''s gone!" Her hands clench into fists, her shoulders heaving with sobs. She glares at Althea, hatred mingling with despair.
''It''s unfair,'' Althea thinks, unable to speak it. ''I did everything I could. Take your anger on those who killed him, not me! It''s them who need to pay for it.''
Julia collapses back into her chain. "Get out," she whispers, her voice hollow. "Get out."
"I''m sorry," Althea repeats, knowing how meaningless it sounds. She turns and leaves the tent. Outside, the cold evening air bites at her skin. She shouldn''t be capable of feeling cold, but she knows that it''s her soul that suffers it.
Drying her tears, she moves back to the edge of the camp. Armand joins her as the last body is placed into the ground. The crowd hushes. Some shift uncomfortably, unsure how to behave; others stare into the distance, scared.
"It is my first time losing so many at once," Armand whispers, for only her to hear. "It feels¡ wrong. The way it happened, we didn''t stand a chance. It wasn''t a fight; it isn''t how a fight should be."
"You''ve been sheltered all your life, promised glorious combats filled with honor and glory," Althea whispers. "This is the real world. Where countless die because you underestimated an opponent. One day you''ll enter a lair, and only a handful of you will come out. Too bad you were the ones who had to report its horrors. And when that happens, they will hate you for it, because you weren''t strong enough to save all of them."
He grabs her shoulder as tears stream down her face and hands her a handkerchief. She wipes off her tears, and he stops his with his thumb. "Who can fight against that?"
"Very few," Althea answers. She recalls images of her time as an adventurer ¨C faces she will never see again. "But they die too; everyone does. ¡ I''m sorry, I know I should be the one you can rely on for spiritual guidance, but today, I can''t."Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.
"It''s not for me you need to be strong, but for all of those behind us," Armand says. "A few more minutes, and then you''ll be able to mourn."
The soldiers clear the improvised cemetery, leaving Althea and Armand alone before it.
"Radiant Lord of Light," she begins. "We humbly beseech you to extend your divine protection over the soul of our departed ones. In your boundless mercy, shelter them within the warmth of your eternal glow. May they find solace and purpose as an eternal servant of your divine presence."
Althea''s voice is strong but tempered with a tremor of grief. "In this hour of darkness, let us remember their courage and the duty they embraced. We serve and protect without fear, even in the face of our own demise. As we commit their bodies to the earth, we pledge to carry forth their memory and their purpose. They shall not be forgotten."
She pauses, taking a shaking breath before clasping her symbol of Seraphel. A faint glow radiates from the sigil, beaconing the crowd to bow their heads. Unwillingly summoned light Ether flows through Althea, comforting her with a heat that dispels her grief. Anger replaces it, a hatred for those who took her friend and mentor.
Seraphel''s sigil carves itself below her feet, shining golden light upon the attendance faces. Another sigil mixes with it, the mark of oaths ¨C an ancient version of the Eldorian rune of the same meaning. Armand moves away from her and drops to one knee, bowing towards her. The soldiers, squires, and Leofric imitate him, unsure of what is happening.
"What must I do?" Althea murmurs, as much to her god as to Armand, who seems to know what is happening.
Armand raises his head slightly, refusing to gaze upon Seraphel''s light. "The legends speak of Paladins vowing new oaths in times of crisis to bring them power and purpose. Be careful; just like breaking your initial oath, it would be disastrous if you broke this one."
It has been seven years since she took her oath, and it stayed the same even when becoming an Adjudicator. Choosing this class, she thought she would be sent to fight Seraphel''s greatest battles. Maybe that time has finally come.
The Ether around Althea vibrates, a hum resonating through her bones. Memories of Garrick flood her ¨C his face, his voice, his teachings, and his final, agonizing scream.
Althea closes her eyes, feeling the heat of Seraphel''s light coursing through her. Her heart pounds against her chest as she raises her head, shoulders squared. "Radiant Lord of Light, in your Ether I stand, and by your will, I swear this new oath." Her voice rings clear, carried by the Ether.
"I vow to hunt those who would strike from the shadows, who seek to sow chaos and despair among the innocent. By my shield, I will protect those who cannot protect themselves. By my blade, I will strike down the wicked, the assassins, and the spawns of darkness that live amongst men. I will have no mercy for the wicked and shall exterminate them by any means necessary." The last sentence escapes her as if it weren''t hers. It doesn''t matter; she accepts it.
The sigils below her feet burn brighter, spiraling upward as radiant tendrils wrap around her. Her white clothing shines with blinding light. light Ether engulfs itself in her, blinding her senses.
It subsides, leaving her breathless yet unshaken. Silence falls upon the camp once more. A voice breaks it, deep, rolling like thunder. "This oath is accepted."
"You obtained the Second Oath title," the elder God announces. "Seven characteristic points have been granted. You obtained the Killers'' tally talent. You obtained the Vow of Destruction ability."
From: Maj. Ava Rook (O-4)
To: Col. Oliver Carver (O-6)
Subject: Initial assessment of Earth-2 Military Capabilities
Sir,
The situation on Earth-2 remains volatile. A gunfight broke out when a member of the unidentified military fired an arrow on a reconnaissance unit. The encounter highlighted our technological and strategic supremacy over their foot soldiers. Attached, you will find a detailed report containing a list of standardized units deployed, an estimated command hierarchy, and profiles of their more unique combatants.
Summary: Earth-2 soldiers exhibit enhanced durability compared to standard human combatants. Their tactics and weaponry align with medieval technology. Our fear of finding their ranks filled with powerful individuals such as the labyrinth-1 group A was unfounded, except for three of them. Notably, some of their personnel demonstrate resistance to high-caliber rounds but remain vulnerable to anti-tank weapons, such as the M72 LAW.
The securitization of our foothold enters its final steps and should be achieved in sixty hours. However, I must reiterate my disagreement with the president''s wish to visit Earth-2. There are many unknown variables we do not yet control.
Respectfully,
Maj. Ava Rook (O-4)
Interlude II - War
Althea extends her hand to catch a snowflake, the first this year. It comes earlier than expected, as it isn''t yet winter. It melts along the steam rising from her exposed skin. A roar comes at her from the left along the thundering steps of her armored sparring partner.
He rolls his great sword over his shoulder and swings in a wide arc. Althea steps back, avoiding the blade that then strikes the ground. Another man thrusts his spear at her back, and she spins to deflect with her wooden sword. His dulled spear crashes into the first man''s ribs, pushing him to the ground.
Following her counter, Althea swings down at the man''s head. She restrains her strength, but the blow still knocks him out.
"Stop!" one of the sparring squads'' sergeant commands. He vaults over the fence marking the sparring ground and heaves a fallen soldier to his feet. "How do you expect surviving on the battlefield when you lose your minds in a sparring match?! Your opponent shattered your formations, and you come back at her one by one?!"
The spear-struck soldier groans in pain as he rises from the ground. Althea presses her hand against his side and casts a Heal spell, restoring his broken rib. He taps on it and looks back at her. "Thank you, sir," he says.
"You maggots are no better than bandits! Get your asses off the ground and reform!" the sergeant continues. He''s fuming; he expected his men to follow their teachings to the letter. But when faced with an overpowering opponent, they lost it.
''Not like you wouldn''t do the same,'' Althea thinks to herself. Images of the slaughter flash in her mind. The few nights since didn''t heal this scar yet.
As the sergeant munches up the soldiers one by one, Althea exits the training grounds. The two remaining sergeants stand there, muttering to each other. "That''s merely an extreme, unlikely case. I can''t believe he asked her for a spar. That will undermine their morale for days."
"They are terrible," Althea comments. The extreme, unlikely case is precisely where they are heading. "Nine out of ten couldn''t draw in Ether as they fought. And the few who could are so unattuned to their abilities they barely gained one point of strength. It is not only their tactics and discipline, but their base understanding of combat that is lacking."
The two sergeants look away, unable to hold her gaze. They both bear family emblems on their collars ¨C minor ones. For Althea, it is their class, or their academic success, that made them sergeants. They are unlikely to have seen real combat. The sergeant in the sparring ground is older and scarred; he made his proof through battle. One of them says, "It''s quite unfair. Our squads are amongst our company''s best."
"This type of thinking will get you and your men killed," Althea retorts. "There is no better than your peers; there is only better than your past self."
"Lady Drevoss, would you mind another round?" the first sergeant asks from the sparring ground.
Althea looks at the squire holding her coat. He stares at her with obvious nervousness. She paused her duties for this spar, and he fears reprimand for it. She motions for the squire to approach. "I fear I cannot delay myself any further."
"Thank you for your time," the sergeant says. He turns around and motions for the squads to split into sparring groups.
Althea slips on the coat her squire holds for her and sees a dirt stain on her white shirt. She removes her shirt and tosses it at the squire. "Get me another one."
A sparring soldier peeks in her direction. He''s disappointed to only see the bandages bidding her chest in place. He suffers a blunted spear to the groin, making Althea smirk; she thinks it a fitting punishment. She hesitates to ask for her shirt back but refrains; she was taught that once you''ve made a decision, you stick to it.
Her squire runs off to her tent. Tightening her coat, she leaves the area and walks up the main avenue towards the commanding tent. Duke Felspar''s army spreads as far as Althea can see, save the distant Mount Cinder. The emblems of marquis and counts flutter in the wind, raised above their territories.
Armand appears from between tents, a stack of parchments under his elbow. Despite the duke''s insistence for officers to wear armor, he sports his black uniform. He isn''t the only one to disobey; all those who do say it''s to not panic their troops. There is no use for rumors of assassins prowling in the camp.
"Did you misplace your armor, baroness Drevoss?" he jests. He places himself next to her and adapts his pace. "I see we are both late to our meeting."
"You can drop the baroness; as long as I can serve Seraphel, I cannot own land," Althea remarks. "My armor is being worked on; I asked for more plating and better joint coverage."
"It already seemed impregnable," Armand comments. "Is it not going to be too heavy?"
"It was when I first obtained it, but it doesn''t weigh much anymore," Althea says. With a strength of thirty, nothing seems heavy to her. She looks to the side, where a squad of heavily armored soldiers is sparing. They reached a separation in the camp, to the grounds of another battalion. They fly the emblem of Marquis Vandris, a man known for his ruthless and powerful troops. Even his spearmen are clad in thick plate armor. Yet they move with ease, better even than the average enlisted. "They will have a better chance."
Armand follows her gaze to the squad. "I couldn''t convince Felspar that his basic troops will only be slaughtered; I''m sorry."
She glances at him and sees that he looks genuinely concerned. She misjudged him; not only did he risk his life to retrieve wounded soldiers, but he also cares for them.
Another thing she didn''t expect of him is the fact that he never killed a man. Since her second oath, she sees marks above everyone''s head ¨C how many humans they killed. At first, she hoped that it would include monsters when she saw Leofric''s count, but it doesn''t. It also warns her when somebody is thinking of killing, even when it''s an intrusive thought.This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
''I hope he doesn''t get someone, or himself, killed because he hesitates when he faces an enemy,'' Althea thinks. ''Someone who commands soldiers should not be a stranger to fighting. That might have been his first combat ever.''
Armand catches her staring at him but glances away, blushing. "I doubt this is appropriate for a strategic meeting."
She tightens up her loosening coat and looks away, feeling her face reddening. "I stained my shirt while sparring; a squire is fetching me a replacement."
They arrive at the commandment tent, where five towering men eye them. Their armor wouldn''t shy in comparison to Leofric''s, and neither would their shields. The one closest to the entrance nods towards them, authorizing their approach.
A griffin lands near them, carrying numerous crates in nets. Squires unload the beast, its rider holding the reins to stop it from picking someone''s head off. He hands them to one of the guards in black and runs towards the tent, a letter in his hands.
"The little knight is here," one of the guards whispers to another. Althea knew that crossing a characteristic''s natural threshold makes one leagues above a lesser man. But she didn''t expect that in raising her perception to see their spells, she would start hearing whispers from ten meters away.
She ignores them and crosses the flaps with Armand right behind her. She looks back through them but doesn''t see her squire. He should already be back. They are in an airlock; she could wait a few more minutes.
She hears Armand unbuttoning his coat and turns around. He lifts off his black linen shirt and hands it to her. Althea accepts Armand''s shirt. The exchange is brief, but her gaze lingers on him for what seems a little too long. Scars cross his muscular torso in deep, harsh lines ¨C wounds left by sharp claws and fangs. They range from thin, faded lines to broader, ragged marks.
"What did that?" she asks, pulling the shirt over her head. It smells of cologne and is, thankfully, not too oversized.
"Depends on which one. There is a long list of monsters that tried to kill me." Armand closes his coat, the piece covering his entire torso. He crosses the next flaps into the tent''s heart.
Duke Felspar stands at the end of a large table, surrounded by two giants in black plate armor. He''s reading a letter sealed by the king. Sir Faewin, Ashmere, Vorath, and Lady Lyris nod towards Althea as she enters. Several marquises turn their heads towards Armand, questioning looks on their faces. It strikes Althea that it is odd for him to be invited. Officers stand beside them, their coats or armor painting them as generals.
"May I inquire as to why a lieutenant is among us, Duke Felspar," Marquis Vandris asks.
"Lieutenant Viremont is here to observe," Felspar explains. He insists on the last word, as if it were more an order than a statement. "With his achievements, he may very well be a general before reaching half your age."
"Getting your platoon slaughtered in a routine expedition does not speak well of one''s ability to command," Vandris says. He glares at Armand, but the latter doesn''t shy away from his stare.
"There were three knights with him," Lady Lyris comments. She toys with a short sword, spinning its tip on her finger. It is undeniable that Garrick was a skilled knight; his death is a blow to their entire order. "There wasn''t anything routine about that event. Otherwise, we wouldn''t be here."
Vandris holds her gaze without excusing himself. The room grows silent, the knights squaring up from their laid-back postures. Althea exhales in exasperation. This sight isn''t an uncommon one; she witnesses it at every encounter of her orders. "What did I miss?" she asks, breaking the tension.
Duke Felspar mouths a silent thank you and leans on the table. A map of the region covers it, with wooden pawns indicating their troops. He points at an isolated block on the side of a large rift. He explains, "We narrowed their position to the ruins of Fort Emberwatch. It hasn''t seen use for decades and is in bad shape; its walls were open by trolls."
"Any sightings of the enemy?" Althea asks.
"Scouts are scanning the entire region. Not even one who reconned the area surrounding the fort came back," Vandris says. "It is reminiscent of your first encounter, and not far from it."
"I agree," Althea comments. The count above Felspar''s head, a staggering two hundred, increments by one. She stares at it, trying to understand what this means. Did he poison someone in the camp? That sounds unbelievable.
"The fort is built on the rift''s west, atop a large hill," Felspar explains. "Our main force will attack at dusk; the sun will be in our back, making aiming harder for their spellcasters. They must not be expecting such a hastened response; it will be another advantage."
Armand steps forward; but Althea stealthily motions for him not to intervene. "I must advise that we keep to your most armored forces. Their spells shred through the standard soldier, piercing mail, muscles, and bones. It would be nothing more than avoidable losses."
"That sounds like fear," Vandris sneers. His gauntleted hand brushes over the map, knocking aside one of the wooden pawns. "Avoidable losses? Would you see my trained, geared, and experienced soldiers at the advent of our formation? Soaking arrows; too tired to fight once we take to the fort? War is losses, little knight."
The room''s atmosphere chills. None of the marquises speak, but she knows they think the same. They all have veteran troops, and none would see them sent in as a front line.
Duke Felspar coughs to get their attention. "Earlier, I made a request to the king, and in his grace, he agreed to the detachment of war ogres. They will be here before tonight and will be our front line. I despise useless deaths, and it seems we will avoid many."
"A great decision," a marquis says.
Armand glances at Althea; he doesn''t seem relieved. Perhaps he is unaware of the beasts. She leans towards him and whispers, "They are monsters clad in armor so heavy I cannot cut through it. It''s rare to see them used as they cost a lot of gold and time."
Felspar continues, "And I trust I can count on your mages to shield our advance, Marquis Vandris."
"With pleasure," Vandris says. The mention of his mages makes him smile. He must expect to be able to learn their enemy''s spells. Their spread is as unavoidable as it is terrifying.
"We will discuss formation later," Felspar says. "Lady Lyris, I believe you are more indicated than me for this next part."
She lifts herself and steps to the table. She stabs her blade at the edge of Mount Cinder, south of the rift. The marquises lean back at the display, their eyes darting to her. She begins, "The rift is connected to the mountain''s network of caverns. I, with the soldiers I selected, will use them to infiltrate the rift. We''ll climb it when you begin your assault and throw their troops into disarray by killing their leaders and mages."
Althea stares at Lady Lyris as she explains the plan. Hidden beneath her apparent calm, a storm churns within her. The oath etched into her soul echoes, pressing its demand: strike down the assassins ¨C the spawns of darkness that live amongst men. Her heart burns as she restrains herself ¨C it demands her comrade''s blood.
Althea''s hands tremble, and she forces them to grip her coat. She exits the tent, gazes following her as she vanishes through the flaps. She walks away and finds a crate to sit on. Pain claws through her chest, as though she''s swallowing shards of glass. She clamps her jaw shut, stifling a scream that would draw attention.
Armand descends to one knee beside her, lowering his head to her level. "What''s wrong?" he asks.
"It''s my oath," she manages to say. "It wants me to¡ kill her."
"I warned yo¡; I''m sorry," Armand says. He looks to the side, perplexed. "Perhaps you could see the lesser evil here. Her methods are dishonorable, but she will save hundreds of men. The cultists we hunt attacked our men unprovoked. And Seraphel knows what they are doing to the prisoners. You will have the time to discuss her methods later, but for now we need her."
Althea shuts her eyes tightly, struggling with her inner turmoil. She unclenches her fists, the shaking subsiding as she convinces herself of his words. "Radiant Lord of Light, forgive me," she mutters.
Interlude II – War – Part 2
"No weapons inside, sir. Remove anything sharp he could take from you. And anything he could strangle you with."
Naomi unholsters her handgun and places it on the security checkpoint''s counter. Passing her hand in her boot, she pulls out a dagger and places it next to the gun. She slides off her belt and adds it to the pile. Finally, she tucks off her combat shirt and removes a combat knife from her back.
"Is it everything, sir?" the guard asks.
"Unless you also want the plastic knife," Naomi retorts.
"It couldn''t hurt a steak," the soldier quips. He pushes a button, and a buzzer goes off as the next, barred door slides open.
Taking the food tray she came with, Naomi enters the prefabricated corridor. A soldier guarding it from the inside follows her.
"I advise you against any physical contact with him, sir," the soldier says.
"I was told he has been the most accommodating of our prisoners," Naomi says. She stops before the Plexiglas door holding her goal captive. "Did he attack someone?"
"The docs are treating him for scabies," the soldier says.
A shiver climbs along Naomi''s spine. "Thanks for the heads-up. Stay to the side; it''s better if he doesn''t see you."
"Yes, sir," the soldier says. He places himself against the wall next to the door.
Naomi slides her badge through the door''s reader, opening it. A man dressed in orange scrubs sits on the cell''s bed. He stands up as she enters, his hands to the side. He looks like a caveman, with unruly black hair and a badly trimmed beard.
She sits at the table installed in his cell, bolted to the ground like its two stools. Placing the tray down, she triggers Silver Tongue, her first Diplomat''s ability. It eases the nerves of whomever she speaks with. She can only use it for a few minutes, but that will be enough as she has a meeting coming up.
"Naomi," she says, pointing at herself.
He approaches the table and grabs the plastic knife from his tray. He presses on its side and lets go, making the knife jiggle.
"Knife," Naomi says. She makes a cutting motion with her hand.
He holds it up and repeats, "Nive." She''s confident this is a bad pronunciation and not their word for it. He stabs it into his ground beef and splits it in half. Holding it back up, he says another word, the pronunciation alien to her.
"Language (Eldorian) leveled up," the system announces.
She takes a paper and crayon out of her pen pocket and writes the word, ''Knife.'' Handing him the armless crayon, she slides the paper towards him.
He looks at it dumbfounded. Shaking his hand, he refuses the crayon and then points at himself. He mimics writing before repeating the same refusal hand motion. She guesses he cannot read or write.
Naomi leans back, letting out a disappointed sigh. He digs into his meal, taking a mouthful of beef and potatoes. His facial expression makes him seem disappointed by the taste. Odd; she thought it would be better than their dirt-filled food.
He hums, attracting attention to her rank insignia by pointing at it.
She looks down at it and explains, "Warrant officer."
He makes a height hand motion, moving it up and down. Could he be asking where she stands in the hierarchy? She takes back the paper and draws the various ranks of the U.S. army. "Fuck," she curses when drawing the details of the highest enlisted ranks with her unprecise crayon.
"Fack," he repeats.
He smirks as he sees the twenty-eight drawings. After pointing at himself, he taps on the privates'' insignia and says a word. She points at the five stars general, and he speaks another word. He takes the paper and loosely rolls it to crown himself with it.
"Your leader is your king," she mutters, glad that they seem to share historical concepts. Taking back the paper, she adds an eagle holding arrows and an olive branch above the rest. "President."
He seems stunned for a moment and points at the ceiling. She gives him the crayon as he extends his hand for it; he draws a symbol above hers. Naomi saw that symbol in reports from Earth ¨C people claiming to be servants of a new god. "Seraphel," he says.
She takes back the crayon and draws a cross next to his symbol. "President," she says, pointing at the eagle. "God," she adds, indicating the cross.
He scoffs, as if she had offended him. He lifts the plastic glass off his tray and looks at it, investigating its clear contents.
"Water," Naomi says.
He translates it and brings it to his lips.
"Language (Eldorian) leveled up," the system announces.
Noami''s watch beeps, making him fall from his stool in surprise. She mutes it and confirms the time. Rising from her stool, she knocks on the door, asking for it to be opened.
"Balric," he says. She turns to see him tapping his fingers against his chest. He hands her his knife and fork, blade, and points towards himself.
She reproduces his refusal hand motion. "Eat," Naomi adds, mimicking the act. The door opens, and she slips out. The soldier follows her as she leaves the corridor. "That was fast, sir."
"I''ll be back after my meeting," she says. Reaching the security checkpoint, she grabs her gear and re-equips herself. Naomi exits into the largest yard of the fort they took possession of.
The high stone walls surrounding them cast large shadows on their sheet metal buildings and tents.
Jackson, her colleague, lifts himself from the prison''s exterior wall to approach. "Made any progress?" he asks.Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.
"Surprisingly, yes," she answers. She starts walking towards the inner yard of the stronghold, where the headquarters are installed.
"I can''t believe they are scared of me. Can''t do my work properly because of them," Jackson says. The prisoner he visited yesterday cowered against the wall of his cell before attacking.
"I would be scarred too if a giant chocolate man talked to me," she quips.
"You ain''t closer to his Caucasian ass than me," Jackson retorts. He pulls on the side of his eye to elongate it.
"At least I''m white," Naomi counters. "Makes me a little more normal for them."
"Normal? Normal?" he asks, faking offense.
"Default settings, if you want the politically correct," Naomi doubles down.
A soldier forces a prisoner out of the back of a Humvee. The yelled commands break Naomi''s and Jackson''s joust. They know he doesn''t understand, so why bother yelling? The man is still in his leather tunic, a few leaves strapped to his hood and shoulders.
The vehicle''s radio goes off, echoing numeric noise. The Humvee''s pilot grabs the radio''s extensible handheld to bring it close. "Repeat," he says.
His sergeant turns to him, fuming. He grabs his leg and throws him to the ground. The soldier rolls to stand back up, but his sergeant roars, "Stay on the ground! Start pushing!"
He flattens himself to the ground and starts doing pushups. It is effortless despite his gear.
"Do you want artillery to fire on your fellow soldiers?!" the sergeant barks.
"No, sir!"
"Then you say: say again!" he yells. "Say it!"
"Say again," he repeats.
"You are forgetting something, soldier!"
"Say again, sir," he corrects.
The captive looks at the display but isn''t shocked by it. The soldier holding him escorts him away towards the prison buildings.
Naomi and Jackson get too far to hear the sergeant''s rambling, but she doesn''t see his man leaving the ground even as they enter the command post.
Three dozen officers and warrant officers enter the room in the next minute, sitting at foldable tables before a projector. A technician connects his laptop to a conference hub and dials up their meeting room.
Maps of both sides of the portal appear in the center. The video feed of a meeting room filled with high-ranking officers and consultants pops up on the side. Naomi recognizes it as one of the meeting rooms she visited in Washington.
Major Rook, the leader of the companies stationed in the fort, arrives last. A soldier clad in a hulking loadout escorts her. The man would be considered a unit with nothing else than clothes, but his armor makes him look like a sci-fi super soldier. Everything, from his torso to calves, is covered in bulletproof armor. His head, hidden by a ballistic mask, is surrounded by an anti-explosion collar that rises to cover the back of his skull. Forty-millimeter grenades for his M32 launcher litter his front plate. A belt links his backpack to his primary weapon, an M134 minigun, stashed away to the back side of his armor.
''Lucky,'' Naomi thinks. A few months ago, it would have been the delusion of a civilian. Today, it is the luxury of those who obtained the right classes. Each of his steps creaks the floor of their building, the place not meant to support his weight. And yet he moves with ease, as if all his gear weighed nothing.
Despite his presence, Rook draws more attention than the goliath. An aura seeps from her, rummaging through the guts of the attendance. Naomi asked about it, and those who seem to know best think it''s a side effect of holding too much Ether.
"Ladies and gentlemen, Secretary of Defense," a voice crackles through the communication line. The tension in the field war room is palpable. A tall officer, laser pointer in hand, directs attention to the central display. It shows a satellite feed of Chinese mechanized troops in the desert.
"Our latest intelligence confirms the movement of Chinese convoys towards Iraq''s border. They appear to have been hiding in Iran," the Secretary of Defense says. "Current estimates indicate four mechanized companies supported by artillery batteries and air assets. Furthermore, our intelligence suggests a rapid mobilization of their armies in mainland China. Their planes are loading up."
Questions arise in Washington ¨C incomprehensible gibberish through the communication line. Whispers break out among the assembled aides, analysts, and senior military staff. A map flickers onscreen, with red markers showing Chinese deployments.
The secretary coughs, restoring order. A new set of markers appears on the screen, showing blue air forces crossing the Mediterranean Sea. A second wave is already leaving Italy; they are preparing for a drawn-out event. "AFCENT is deploying assets in the region. It is a show of force, but they will act if our troops are fired upon."
The main door slams open as a warrant officer barrels through it. The room turns to him, staring in silence. He lifts a laptop in front of him, towards Major Rook. "Sir, you need to see this."
"I hope this is of vital importance, son," the secretary says over the line.
"Our SkyGuardian drone is in the sky, and we found an army," the warrant officer says. He connects his computer to the central hub and displays an aerial feed. Thousands of tents form an encampment with rows of colored pavilions, surrounded by wooden palisades.
Analysts take screenshots of the camp, drawing estimates on their tablets in silence. They whisper to each other, doubting their own results.
Infantry formations march in perfect unison, armed with swords, spears, and shields. Large trebuchets, catapults, ballistae, and other siege engines are visible in the rear.
A flying monster crosses the feed ¨C a griffin like the few who attacked earth. Its rider orders the beast down, and it lands in the middle of the camp before the largest of the tents.
"They could be fielding a hundred thousand men, sir," the senior strategic analyst says. A woman in Washington confirms their estimates. "Assuming comparable movement speed with Earth''s medieval era, they could be here tomorrow."
"We poked the wrong beast," someone mutters. Whispers fill the war room. Another quips to his neighbor, "The only problem I see is we don''t have enough ammunition."
Major Rook takes a step closer to the screen. "We would be outnumbered two hundred and fifty to one. What reinforcements can we expect?"
"My battalion cannot expend more companies from Iraq," a colonel says. "The response from the locals has been¡ more turbulent than expected. Our men are already stretched thin; any more would endanger lives."
"I agree, colonel," the secretary says. "We chose to limit our deployment to not alarm foreign nations, but that ship as sailed. Generals, what are our options?"
"The sixth fleet is already in the Mediterranean Sea," a general says. "Earth-2''s portal can be in the range of the USS George H.W. Bush within seven hours. Our Ospreys can deploy marines to the portal in ten."
"The 101st and 82nd divisions are still waiting orders in Greece," another general says.
"President on the line," a woman says, handing a phone to the secretary. He brings it to his ear and listens for a long minute. He tries to argue, but the president cuts him off. He hands back the phone and ponders silently for what feels like an eternity.
"I want the sixth fleet in range as soon as possible; any further actions are delayed until otherwise informed. Trust that reinforcements will be with you as soon as possible, major. In the meantime, you''ll have to make do with your two companies," the secretary says. "Our technological supremacy will need to be enough. This meeting is adjourned. Generals, I will see you with the president in fifteen minutes. Major, our foothold in the new world is in your hands; do not disappoint."
The line to Washington cuts off. The major steps in front of the screen and turns to the attendance. "Alright gentlemen, I want options to dismantle their assault preemptively. Re-evaluate all our defense measures. Simulate a frontal assault from their troops. And call back our A-Team; I want solutions on their hierarchy."
"Can''t we try negotiating?" Naomi asks, the words escaping her. Rook turns to Naomi, and she feels her throat dry up. Now that she has attracted attention, it could not be worse to explain her thoughts. "We expected to find scores of monsters, but they are humans. We are making great progress with the POWs; we could be able to delay whatever they are planning."
"I won''t trust ''could'' and ''delay'' when we''re attacked on both fronts," Rook responds, her tone final. "We are at the forefront of humanity''s future. There is no guarantee that the portals emerging from the remaining labyrinths will be in our grasp. If we fail to assert control over these savages, then Russia or China will. And when they do, they will see nothing but land and resources, without regard for the cultures."
''Give it a month, and we''ll drop a sun or two on them,'' Naomi thinks. She shrinks into her seat, repelled by Rook''s unyielding gaze. She catches a glance of a first lieutenant, a smirk on his face. He fidgets with a small bronze emblem ¨C a shield adorned with a pair of weapons: a sword and an axe. ''What emblem is that?''
Interlude II – War – Part 3
"Fifteen hundred," Toothpick, Duck Hunt''s spotter, says. He lifts his eyes from his rangefinder, a long grass hanging from his lips.
Duck Hunt opens the bolt of his Tac-50, pressing against the chambered round to put it back in the magazine. He pulls out an APEI round from his plate carrier and chambers it.
"You killing a man, not a tank," Toothpick quips.
"They beat estimate by a day; I''m not risking another inhuman feat," Duck Hunt retorts. The army before them was predicted to be two days away from them. Yet here they are, jogging for hours towards the fort. "How are they still running? They would be exhausted if they ever reached the fort."
"We could do it," Bling-Bling says. He stops cleaning the dirt on his handgun to glance at them. "Forty-five kilometers in a day; easy."
"We''re fucked if every peasant on this side has the stamina of a ranger," Toothpick says.
"They wouldn''t be here if we hadn''t engaged them," Duck Hunt says. The team opened fire on a small group four days ago, killing fifty soldiers. The order came from their hierarchy and not the major they are helping on this side of the portal. It was a matter of discontent until it happened, and ever since.
"I told you to stop mentioning it," Toothpick says. "It was an order, and we were explicitly told to shut the fuck up about it."
Duck Hunt grunts; arguing won''t get him answers. It seems to him that they are the conquistadors taking their world from the natives. As if they haven''t evolved since. He asks, "Why didn''t they bomb the guy with the Reaper? That would have stopped them last night."
"They didn''t bring bombs for it. And that''s a SkyGuardian," Toothpick answers. "They were spent on its previous mission. They requisitioned it for observation; they didn''t think they would need to neutralize someone in particular."
"Same thing," Duck Hunt quips. "Just a little more battery life; ten more million per unit."
"We''re seriously not going to talk about it?" Ratata asks. He sets up a second ammo box beside his machine gun.
"Nop," Duck Hunt answers. He refocuses on his left eye to glance at the monsters. Forty beasts, each twice the size of a man, march at the forefront of the army. They are armored head to toe in heavy, rusting metal. Their helmets leave no opening for their eyes or mouth, making him ponder how they see. In their gauntleted hands, they carry axes and warhammers big enough to crush a car. "We told the major, that''s her problem now."
"The drone saw them hours ago; they could have told us," Toothpick comments.
"They aren''t part of the mission," Bling-Bling explains. "We didn''t need to know."
The radio set beside Duck Hunt crackles. Toothpick picks it up and says, "Say again, over."
"You are cleared to engage, over," the radio transmits.
Duck Hunt readjusts his aim, following the up-and-down rhythm of his horse-riding target. He confirms, "On target."
"Three¡" Toothpick begins. "Two¡ One¡"
Three suppressed shots echo around their twelve-man squad. Duck Hunt folds his rifle¡¯s bipod, stashing it on his back as the bullet flies. The APEI round strikes its mark, slamming into their leader''s helmet. The impact sends faint sparks flying; a plume of smoke rises from the scorched red metal.
"Hit head at fourteen hundred meters. Damage minimal," Toothpick says.
Duck Hunt''s heart skips a beat, and he places his rifle back down. Through the scope he sees the knight pressing on, his crimson-dyed armor only marred by the strike.
Besides the target, his two underlings, each bearing their own flag, are less fortunate. The other two snipers struck them in the head and neck, each shot piercing through their target''s armor.
Toothpick whistles low. "Knight in shining armor just ate it like its nothing."
Duck Hunt chambers another round from his plate carrier and readjusts his aim. The other sniper duos move away from their position, descending from their elevated spots.
"Piercing shot," Duck Hunt murmurs. It exhausts his Ether, leaving his chest feeling empty. Compensating for the reduced drag, he aims as if shooting five hundred meters closer.
"We aren''t supposed to use abilities," Toothpick grumbles. "You know it can send you to the hospital. Thirteen hundred and fifty."
"On target," Duck Hunt informs.
"Send," Toothpick confirms.
Duck Hunt stares through his scope as the round flies towards its target. A knight in silver armor ¨C a woman they saw at their first engagement ¨C protects him with her shield. The bullet splatters against it, its load burning away pointlessly.
The light bends around an archer, air swirling around the tip of his arrow. He fires it, and it flies towards them in a high arc. ''No way he can hit that with a bow,'' Duck Hunt thinks.
"Move out," Toothpick commands. The entire team moves back behind their cliff, regrouping around their three GMVs. The arrow strikes where Duck Hunt lay, digging up to its shaft into the dirt. They look at it for a long second and get in, Ratata taking the top-mounted M2 Browning.
"Fear not for my safety, lady Drevoss," duke Felspar says. "This armor has served my family since the time of the great unification of Aldoria. No human spell will ever breach it. I dare say it is as impressive as yours."
''Spell¡'' The word lingers in Althea''s mind. She looks at her shield; it is marred by a black, scorched stain. It was still too fast for her to properly see, but it seemed complex ¨C a cylindrical shape with colors that disturbed the air in its path.
Honor guards secure the marquises, bringing them back to their own healers before Althea can intervene. The duke unsheathes his long sword, the blade crackling with electricity as he holds it high.
"The enemy strikes us from afar; they fear the taste of our steel," the duke roars. His voice reaches the entire army, empowered by an ability. The Ether answers him, the surrounding threads diving into the army''s ranks. Althea can feel it giving her strength and stamina, easing her steps and breaths even further. "Onward soldiers! Bring the fight to them! Cleanse the kingdom of these wretched creatures!"Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator.
War horns roar from the many formations. The Bards, who were supporting their hastened pace, are joined by the rest of their squad. Standing on carts, dragged in the middle of their ranks, they breathe in deep. Tambours rumble at a running pace; bagpipes rise into a blood-pulsing concert. Althea senses her body reaching the cap of all the boosts she can receive.
The army breaks into a charge, the ogres at their forefront. Heavy cavalry splits to the sides, galloping past the main formation. They ride to where the spells came from, lances at the ready.
Griffins take to the skies from the back lanes. Their crews, pairs of riders and archers, scan the ground. One of them takes a war horn from his saddle and blows its signal. This sound means they stopped enemy riders.
''We finally see them!'' Althea thinks. She outpaces Felspar''s horse but then slows down, restraining herself from running at them.
"Go!" Leofric orders. He runs to their level, taking the duke''s other side. "I''ll take care of the duke."
"I need not be taken care of," the duke roars. "Go, champion of the light! Make your god proud."
Althea breaks into a sprint, the weight of her armor crushing the ground and rocks below her feet. She outpaces the heavy cavalry, clearing the distance between the army and its griffins in moments.
"Contact on our six!" Ratata yells. He spins the mounted machine gun around, aiming it behind them. "She''s¡ she''s running at us!"
"Engage!" Toothpick commands. He brings the radio to his mouth and unfolds his map. "Command, this is ODA-3423. We are pursued by heavy cavalry, enemy air support, and an armored woman running fifty an hour. Request immediate air support. Request fire for effect: HE; grid mission; Grid E2P 110 470; Grid E2P 110 478; Grid E2P 105 474; over"
The M2 browning roars above them, drowning out their voices. Duck Hunt turns to see their pursuer and shoulders his M4. He sees Ratata''s bullets cratering against her armor, digging through the metal yet uncapable of slowing her down. He aims and fires at her knees, to no better effect.
"ODA-3423," the radio crackles. "Fire mission approved; Grid E2P 110 470; Grid E2P 110 478; Grid E2P 105 474; fire for effect; HE; over."
A griffin dives down on them; Rico, who''s manning the Browning of another vehicle, fires towards it. The bullets dig themselves into its feathers, drawing blood in geysers of crimson. It falls down, hitting the side of Duck Hunt''s Humvee.
Bling-bling struggles in the driver''s seat, trying to keep them stable. The uneven, rocky ground spites them for driving this fast. It throws upward one wheel after the other, threatening to tumble them to the side at any moment.
Althea twitches her head to the side to avoid a projectile. Maintaining an angle to ensure deflection, she moves her shield as her enemy tries to bypass it. The chariot before her is deeply disturbing. No creature pulls it, and yet it moves faster than any non-bonded horse.
Their spells, shot from a metal catalyzer, pierce the additional plates she demanded. Duke Felspar''s armorers did a great job creating and affixing these new parts that act as an overlayer of armor. But they simply didn''t have iron of sufficient quality. Nonetheless, her true armor below doesn''t yield against their magic.
She reads that each of them killed hundreds, if not thousands. Their bloodlust fills Althea''s sight ¨C a crimson aura that obscures everything else. Her oath beckons her to end them, a thrill she openly gives herself to.
''Strengthening, toughness,'' she thinks as she leaves the Bards'' range. Breathing in deep, she draws in the surrounding threads, feeding her abilities to the limits of her body.
The man holding the catalyzer of another chariot, the one who killed the griffin, retrieves a metal log from it. Althea''s mind races at the sight. Fire bursts away from it, and she dives to the side; her shield catches something heavy. An explosion blasts through a rock behind her, cracking it in half.
A man in the chariot throws something at her ¨C a wide, rounded cylinder orders of magnitude slower than their spells. Fearing it to be their last resort, she shields herself from it. It explodes, sending bits of metal that skid against her armor. The sound fills her ears with high-pitched whistles, drowning everything else.
The chariot swerves as another griffin dives from the sky, aiming for their top riding mage.
''Radiant Lord of Light, grant me your strength. Bless this shield, carried in faith, so no darkness passes unscathed by your light,'' Althea prays. Her shield brightens until it turns into a beacon of golden light, flames licking its sides. Althea leaps, closing the last few meters in a bound. She slams her shield into the side of the chariot, the impact lifting it onto two wheels.
Unleashed with a thought, the power she called through her oath explodes, sending the chariot tumbling. The two others turn around, their mages handling green boxes. One charges at her, clearly aiming to ram their ride into her.
Althea unsheathes her sword, holding it towards the approaching beast of metal. ''Radiant Lord of Light, bless this blade, held with purity of purpose. Grant it the strength to slay the darkest night.''
She jumps instants before the collision and rams her blade in the man at the front. The chariot stops, and she''s thrown back onto the ground. The top Mage fires at her once again. She bursts forward, dashing along the chariot as her blade cuts through it. It beheads the dying first man, sections the chests of two others, and splits the Mage''s legs from his torso.
The last chariot stops, its crew firing weak spells at her as they try to recover the first chariot''s wounded.
Duck Hunt wakes up as liquid splashes on his face. He flicks it off with his gloves but realizes that it is blood. Screams and gunfire echo, noise to his clouded mind. His sight is blurred, unable to focus on anything. The situation comes back to him in a flash ¨C a rush of urgency and adrenaline. He tries to stand, but his legs refuse to obey.
Duck Hunt draws his handgun. With his left hand, he pushes on his personal radio. "ODA-3423 to command." He struggles to stay coherent, his mind as if he were drunk and filled with pain. "We are engaged with an enemy combatant. She''s taken one of our vehicles. Request immediate extraction! Over!"
The line hisses with static. Duck Hunt''s eyes dart to the wreckage he flew from, flames licking at its frame. The guns go silent; the only sound left is a grind of metal, of stomping, heavy armor.
"ODA-3423, this is command," a voice finally responds. Blood squeezes out of his throat as pain bursts in his chest. The hulking frame of their demise steps on him, her hand grabbing the radio and tearing it from his grasp. She holds it before her, listening to command''s response.
Duck Hunt levels his handgun at her head and presses the trigger. The round splatters against her chin guard ¨C nothing but sparks. He fires again and again, to no avail. She lifts her blade above his head and slams it down.
Their language is unknown to Althea, as is the strange Echostone. It is rumored so rare that she only knows of one pair, and yet they all had one. The battle''s chaos recedes to a ringing silence, broken only by the distant hooves of the cavalry.
Blinding light flashes where the left cavalry unit stood. Nine other explosions shatter their ranks, sending chunks of men, horses, and armor into the air. The sound comes after, louder than any spell or thunder she ever heard.
The right cavalry formation is taken by the same fate, scattered like straw, their bodies torn in an instant. Ten thousand men vaporized by spells of ancient times. Yet no Mage was present; something fell out of the sky.
Another series of projectiles falls on the main army; they explode in the air, halted by a large, overhead shield. Several Mages fall unconscious, the attack draining the Ether of those feeding the protective spell.
Althea stands immobile, her breath heavy as she takes in the carnage. The stench of burnt flesh and scorched metal mingles with the air, seeping through her helm.
Her gaze sweeps over the remnants of the army''s riders. Men and beasts alike reduced to shreds. Experienced, powerful soldiers clad in heavy armor obliterated as though they were nothing. Those who survived crawl away, limbs torn from them.
Her knees threaten to buckle, not from exhaustion but from the weight of the realization. ''This is not war.''
For a fleeting moment, despair claws at her faith. How can she, even with the light on her side, stand against an enemy that wields such powers? How can she protect anyone when countless deaths are a moment away?
Her eyes fall on the remnants of the enemies and their creations. Strange, disturbing, deadly to the common man, yet not invincible. The men she fell screamed in mortal pain when she ended their wretched existences. They are no more than common men and die as such, regardless of the artifacts they wield.
Her mind focuses on a singular, horrifying truth: if this enemy is allowed to survive, Valloria¡, the continent will burn. Althea straightens, her resolve returning. She can feel her oath beckoning her to press onward.
She steps forward, the army joining her. They wear expressions of profound sorrow, that of people who accepted their fate. Their faces are pale, their lips quivering as they murmur silent prayers. She can read in their eyes ¨C even if all of them must die, they will stop this enemy before it becomes too late.
Interlude II – War – Part 4
"Cancel the extraction. ODA-3423 is lost," Major Rook orders. She lowers her binoculars. Her face betrays none of the emotions she could have. She rotates her forearm and glances at her watch. "Call back the Apache. We need to rework our battle plan; how long will it take them to enter the defensive perimeter?"
''Seriously, not a word? Just: They are lost?'' Daniel thinks. He stares at her for a long second before realizing she''s talking to him. He fumbles with his tablet, estimating their pace on the drone''s feed. The result baffles him. How can they move, as an army, so fast? They are sustaining an Olympian running speed. "At their current pace, they will be in the five-kilometer range in forty-five minutes. An hour and a half if they slow back down. The forest surrounding the fort will delay them, but it isn''t wide enough to make a major impact."
Another artillery volley echoes from the rear lines of the fort, near the edge of the rift. Rook observes through her binoculars, remaining silent during the long thirty-second travel time. The shells detonate in the air, stopped by a shimmering force.
"Call off artillery," Rook orders. "We are wasting ammunition."
Daniel''s captain relays her order to a lieutenant. He seems more concerned about the situation than she is. His left hand fiddles with a pen, spinning it between his fingers. He asks, "What is your plan, sir?"
Rook glances at him before returning her attention to the distant army. "Their¡ spell isn''t omnidirectional. Once they are in range of our machine guns, we''ll circle them with our IFVs. I want our mortars ready. Ensure every nest has as many rounds as possible. Move our artillery for direct firing."
"You want to wait for them to approach, sir?" the captain asks. He tames his voice after the first two words, avoiding sounding disapproving. His pen accelerates, gliding between his fingers with echoing clicks. "Wouldn''t it be tactically sound to harass their approach with our Apaches? If we were to inflict enough losses on them, they would likely retreat. We could use the forest and guerrilla tactics to neutralize their remaining hierarchy."
"They saw countless men blown away by our guns, and yet they didn''t slow down. Those aren''t the cowering soldiers of our usual enemies. Their moral won''t break because we kill some; it will only make them fight harder," Rook says. She seems so convinced of her words; how could she know for sure? "I won''t risk our helicopters to another inhuman ability. And the forest won''t be to our advantage. She will hunt our men down, and none of them will be able to stop her. We''ll fight them on our territory with every weapon we have. Tell the Abrams their target will be the silver knight, the woman who killed our men."
"Captain Reynolds to tank commanders. Prepare for anti-infantry operations. Load HE rou¨C" Captain Reynolds stops himself as Rook motions for him to halt.
"Consider this an anti-tank mission," major Rook begins. "This woman threw off a Humvee and shrugged off fifty cal. Tell them to use sabot rounds."
"Captain Reynolds to tank commanders. Correction, disregard previous order to prepare HE rounds. Prepare M829 rounds for armored engagement. Your priority target will be the knight wearing silver. Acknowledge, over."
Her shield before her, Althea scans her surroundings repeatedly. She glances up at every rustle of the overhead tree branches. While the soldiers beside her are stressed, she feels like she''s the only one to be terrified.
With the sun in their backs, the army exits the length of thin forest at the fort''s outskirts. The remaining trees that once surrounded it vanished, replaced by an endless clearing of mud. Their trunks, debranched and debarked, are staked in tall triangular piles. Not even a stump is left in a five-kilometer arc around the fort, their work ending at the rift''s edge.
''How long have they been here?'' Althea ponders. The thought of them having people like her to achieve such a venture in a short time scares her. The enemies she killed were stronger than the average man but weak compared to her or even the average knight. If they have people on her level in addition to their artifacts, it would be a disaster.
Duke Felspar motions for the army to stop at the tree line. Marquis Vandris splits from him after a long conversation. He guides his horse through the ranks, dictating orders to the generals. They split slightly, forming three columns, each thirty thousand men strong. He shuffles the carts holding the Bards, spreading them across the groups.
As the sunlight dims, Althea sees a blue and violet shimmer on the fort''s side. She moves through the army, the soldiers parting to let her pass. Beyond the southernmost ranks, she sees the strange light painting the entire south walls of the place. She finds a large rock behind the tree line and scales it to get a better view.
Reaching the rock''s flat top, she finally sees the light source. A tear in reality stands beside the fort, granting a view onto a desert''s night sky. Its hues become brighter as the sunlight yields, making more soldiers notice them. Small, sand-colored buildings surround the portal. Figures crawl in them, only their heads visible; their inner seems dug into the ground.
It has to be a last-minute illusion, a ploy to scare them. Their last living griffin flew back to camp to relay what happened to the messengers. Felspar wanted the king to know he may need to take action should they fail. In its absence, they weren''t warned of this dreadful sight.
The tales have always seemed distant, abstract ¨C stories meant to frighten or inspire children. The Orc invasion of centuries past was a calamity. It shattered a kingdom that once spanned the continent, splintering its people into the factions she knows today. Entire cities were razed, their names now only existing in stories. Indominable legions fell to their overwhelming ferocity. And now, before her, a tear in reality promises to unleash that nightmare once more.
Sir Faewin, his bow in hand, joins her in silence. He stares at it for an eternity, his jaw hanging. "Is this what I think it is?" he murmurs.
"I don''t believe it," Althea stammers. She places her right hand over her heart and closes her eyes. ''Radiant lord of Light, could it be? Is it happening again? Has the scourge that brought the Orcs come back?''
Light Ether forms from her own, filling her heart. The air grows still, a soft hum resonating, silencing every other noise. Light fills her sight, and she''s taken into a vision.
She stands on the walls of Kingsreach, the sight of mountains, lakes, and forests known to her. Behind her, she hears the activity of the city ¨C merchants bargaining, guards patrolling, and children playing.
A flash of light blinds her. As it recedes, she sees nature turned to crushed, torn, blown-off remnants. She turns to see the city gone, replaced by a smoldering crater. Shadows of men litter the rare shards of standing wall, their hands shielding their eyes.
"I am sorry that this sacrifice befalls you," a deep voice says from behind her. It rolls like thunder. A hand seizes her shoulder, its overwhelming strength keeping her from shaking. She tries to turn her head, but her body refuses. "Without a Herald, I cannot act in your world. Only you and the men who will sacrifice themselves for the good of your world can prevent this tragedy."The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.
"Then make me your Herald," Althea mutters. The words escaped her before she remembered the implications. The fate of all heralds is a dark one. Every story she heard and read of them, may they be of Seraphel or the other gods, is one of tragedy.
"I simply cannot," Seraphel says. She feels his strength wavering, his grasp on her shoulder leaving her more room to move. "I have chosen my Herald. And even if he wasn''t, I could not, for no Herald can be born of your world."
The sky breaks. Cracks of deep crimson bleed it as if it were a dome of glass. Seraphel''s presence grows small. A larger sentiment of something watching her takes its place.
"I acted too much in your favor," Seraphel''s says. He lets go of her shoulder. "Forgive me for the sacrifice I am willing to make. I show this to you not to confirm your fear but to give you a chance to understand. You have been a faithful servant, Althea; one I would welcome by my side."
The vision ends, throwing her back onto the battlefield. The light Ether she summoned vanishes, leaving her empty and weak. She breathes in, drawing in Ether from the surrounding threads.
Duke Felspar raises his crackling blade high, his voice booming with power as it echoes across the army. "Men of Valoria! Before us stands horror, a force that would reduce us to shreds. These forbidden powers cannot be left in the hands of those who would see our end!"
"I will not lie to you; many of us will not see another day. Perhaps my words frighten you, but I will not deceive those who protect our kingdom." The duke pauses, lowering his sword to point it toward the distant fort. "If we would abandon this quest, it is our children, our wives, and our loved ones who would pay the price. Only we stand between those we swore to protect and this cabal! We will not allow this scourge to take one more step into our kingdom!"
"Long before our time, our ancestors sacrificed themselves to see us freed of Orc dominion. Today we ensure our descendants the same freedom!" the duke roars. Not knowing about the portal, it is odd for him to bring them up. Althea notices that Sir Faewin stands near the duke; he knows. Then why not tell them the truth he promises? Does he think it would be too much? That his army would flee this place? "Mankind''s fate is decided here and now!"
Althea descends from her perch. Her heart feels heavy as she steps back into the army. She weaves through soldiers who clutch their weapons with trembling hands, their faces pale. Her gaze falls on duke Felspar, the Ether trembling under the weight of his voice.
She catches Sir Faewin''s eye as she moves through the ranks. He''s tense, but only someone who knows him could tell. She looks at all the soldiers ¨C the vast sea of men and women of whom little will remain.
''Leaders must be able to do what others won''t dare,'' Althea remembers from the knights'' codes. She thinks of her family, of her mother''s embrace, of her father''s devotion to their people, of her brother''s hope to march in her steps. ''Accept the weight of ordering what will hunt you at night. This is the burden we must carry in exchange for peace.''
She steps forward, joining the army''s forefront. Althea''s breaths deepen as the weight of her choice settles in. Seraphel''s vision leaves her shaken, but the threat and her duty to protect the kingdom steady her. She doesn''t say a word; she fears that her voice may reveal the dread her helmet hides. She stabs her sword into the ground, her gaze on the distant fort.
The duke glances to the side from where marquis Vandris nods back. He spins his horse to face the enemy. The Bards resume their tune, drowning them in a blood-rushing boost of characteristics. The duke lowers his sword and bellows. "Charge!"
The ogres move first, entering the clearing with thundering steps. The army follows, splitting into three groups. While the central one charges forward, the others circle the clearing to attack the fort on the sides. Althea runs beside Felspar, at the helm of the central formation.
Explosions blast furious winds upon them. The Mages shield blocked spells coming from the fort, digging deep gashes into the ground. The air above echoes with a deafening thrum mingling with high-pitched whines. Beasts of metal rise from the fort, blades like great swords spinning above them like a twisted training puppet.
Archers tense their bows, aiming at various heights. They breathe in deeply, drawing in Ether. The air around them cools, disturbing the light as it descends and spreads across the ground. They shoot between the army and the fort, their arrows releasing fog on impact. The formations rush into it, vanishing from sight.
Cracks of thunder echo from the forest, riding along flashes of light. Explosions erupt among the soldiers, scattering armor and limbs. The Mages struggle to extend their spells to the side, leaving them exposed from above and behind.
The flying beasts of metal overshoot the formations, turning on themselves and descending to almost ground level. Imposing catalysts under their noses burst with flashes of fire. More death comes at them, hitting the back lanes, where their Bards and Mages are located. Cylinders under their short wings unleash screaming bolts. They detonate on impact, blasting away hundreds.
The air above screams. Countless projectiles fall on them, each bringing another explosion that takes dozens of lives. Soldiers fall under the force, their armor, weapons, and limbs torn from them. Then, the first horror she heard comes ¨C thousands of hammers striking metal in a furious cacophony.
The Mages fallen, dozens of needles strike her armor. Felspar''s horse falls to the ground, bringing the duke down with him. The ogres charge through, their own armor impermeable to the magic. Many others do not share their protection; they fall as they are hit in the legs, arms, chest, or head.
Althea exits the fog at the castle''s feet, followed by scattered, wounded forces. Air leaves Althea''s lungs as pain sears her chest. The impact spins her to the side; a soldier behind her expands into a ring of flesh and bones. She touches her side with her gauntleted hand, reaching deeper than she should. Blood covers her silver armor, flowing from her.
Exiting the fog, Leofric protects her from the fort, his tower shield hiding her entire frame. Hundreds of spells ricochet from his shield, lighting their surroundings with sparks. He commands, "Heal yourself!"
''Radiant lord of light, grant me power to mend my torn flesh. So I may endure to bring the enemies of humanity to their end.'' Another blow strikes her leg, bringing her to one knee as it shatters her femur. It pierced through Leofric''s shield, tearing apart the side of his tassets. Light Ether refuses to come to her. ''If it is to be my last day, I''ll see that it is theirs as well. I will suffer so the world may live in peace. Grant me power to protect those we shelter from these horrors.''
Another blow strikes her chest, piercing through Leofric''s stomach. She feels her Ether leaving her, her heart struck by the attack. Althea falls to her back, the taste of blood filling her mouth. She claws at the dirt below her, trying to get back up, but her arms fail her.
The world turns gray; its sounds vanish, replaced by total silence. Althea''s pains recede, and she stands back up, only to see her surroundings stopped. Every soldier, every beast of metal, and every spell and arrow hang motionless. The smoke of explosions lingers like frozen water. Althea''s gaze sweeps over the carnage. Men and women lie on the ground, terror and pain etched in them like sculptures. Flying projectiles trailing tails of fire hurl towards the ogres.
A glint of light stings her eyes, and she looks down at it to see herself lying in the mud, a hole in her chest. A cold shiver traverses her. Her hands tremble as she reaches for her body, only for them to pass through. Figures made of green smoke appear from the corpses of the dead soldiers, filling the clearing.
The air shimmers as a figure materializes before her. A woman steps towards Althea, her face hidden behind a white, plain mask. A veil-like dress flows around her, shimmering in and out of existence at its edges. She touches Althea''s face, the contact electrifying Althea''s skin.
"So much potential," the woman says, her voice soft. She turns Althea towards the sea of green, phantomatic figures. "Your god sacrificed you for me to cross to your world. This will not be in vain; I vow it."
Seraphel''s voice comes back to Althea. ''Only you and the men who will sacrifice themselves for the good of your world can prevent this tragedy. You have been a faithful servant, Althea; one I would welcome by my side.''
Althea knows this woman; she saw statues to her liking, statues of the goddess of death. There will be no greater calling for her, no place by Seraphel''s side. He gave them to her. Were the Oracles aware of this fate? Did they lie in his name to see them to their end? Why grant her a second oath if she was to die days later?
Kaliathra stares in the distance, and she stops moving; it is how Althea''s visions were often described to her. The goddess comes back to her senses and glances at the distant Mount Cinder. Kaliathra speaks in a language unknown to Althea; each word shakes her, sending ripples through the ground.
"What happens now? What torments await us?" Althea asks, scared by her religious teachings. She knows that in being refused by Seraphel''s realm, she will be tortured for each of her faults in Kaliathra''s domain.
"They will know rest and peace," Kaliathra says. Cracks of deep crimson, the like of Althea''s vision, break the sky. "But I am afraid you''ll not share their fate. It pains me to ask this of you, but you still have a role to play, one too important for me to take your soul."
Interlude II – War – Part 5
The caverns tremble under the weight of countless explosions. It shivers the flame held in the lantern Ronan carries. He grasps his grappling hook, stopping it from clattering against his armor.
Lady Lyris motions for their group to stop. As he freezes, Ronan hears voices in an incomprehensible language. They echo from above, through openings leading to higher caverns in the labyrinthine network. He twists his lantern, covering the glass sections with metal covers. The other lantern bearers imitate him.
A cone of white light shines through a ceiling hole, illuminating the ground as if it were in broad daylight. It moves along the ground, searching for them. Lady Lyris motions them to move back, and they enter various tunnels, cowering from the light.
The light vanishes. A voice echoes from where the light came from before another answers from the opposite side of the hole. Green, luminescent sticks fall, bouncing off rocks and rolling across the ground. Two ropes descend, followed by two figures in strange armor. Both summon a cone of light to scan the area with their backs to each other''s.
Ronan cowers into the tunnel before a light illuminates him. He sees Lady Lyris vanish into mist, the only trace of her presence being her footprints in the dusty ground. She''s slow, her ability forcing her to maintain a languid pace. The lights moving away from his tunnel, he sticks his head out.
Lady Lyris manifests next to an enemy and seizes him by the neck. She thrusts her dagger into his throat; he blocks her blade with the tool he holds. She pulls him back and stabs him in the chest.
The enemy convulses as the dagger hits him, but his movements remain precise. He grabs her hand, keeping her blade into his stomach, and bows forward. His move lifts Lady Lyris above his shoulder, throwing her to the ground with her blade still in his stomach.
The second man spins around, bringing his light onto them. Ronan charges with a roar, attracting his immediate attention. The man levels his illuminating artifact at Ronan, blinding him with its light. Thunder echoes; burning pain tears Ronan''s leg apart, bringing him to the ground. His blade escapes his grasps and skids against the cavern''s ground.
Lady Lyris twists on the ground and sweeps her opponent''s legs while turning her blade in his guts. He screams as he falls to the ground. She lunges at the second man as he turns back towards her. He levels his artifact at her and unleashes countless blasts. She coils around his attacks, ducking below them.
A crack of thunder comes from above. Lady Lyris falls to the ground, blood pouring from her skull. The second man lights the tunnel Ronan came from while sidestepping towards his wounded comrade. A voice comes from above as a third figure descends one of the ropes.
The third man grabs spheres from his chest and tosses them in the tunnels. Deflagrations deafen Ronan, but not enough to avoid him the agonizing screams of those in the tunnels.
The second enemy stabs their wounded with small cylinders and pours powder into the exposed dagger wound. He grabs the wounded and places him on his back. Despite his wound, the first man grabs tightly onto his comrade, freeing his hands.
The third man walks up to Ronan and aims his artifact at his head. A repeated whisper crawls on the cavern''s walls, echoing as it goes deeper into the caves. They exchange a word, and the second man climbs back up, his comrade still on his back.
The remaining enemy kicks Ronan''s blade towards him; Ronan grabs it and gives everything to stand up. The enemy levels his artifact and unleashes three cracks of thunder. Rowan falls, his chest burning with pain.
The mountain roars, the sound shaking the ground and Ronan''s insides. He looks at his opponent and finds him gone, already climbing a rope. Won''t he end his suffering? Ronan''s eyes grow heavy as his strengths leave him.
Another roar echoes, louder than before. The cavern floor quakes beneath Ronan, dislodging stones and stirring dust clouds. Barely conscious, Ronan feels the earth tremble again, in a pattern like the footsteps of a beast.
"The enemy assault has been broken," major Rook says. She turns away from the battlefield, where mortars and machine guns are still raging. "Only a few stragglers remain; they won''t last long. I want a report on our wounded. Also, get me a count on ammunition and remaining supplies."
"Understood, Major," Daniel''s second lieutenant says. He leaves the balcony, demanding assessments through his radio.
Major Rook sighs, breaking her stoic persona. Her fingers tap against her own radio as her expression turns worried. She glances back at the battlefield, her eyes on the fallen silver knight. "Daniel, how many people like her could we be facing?"
"I do not have that kind of data," Daniel answers. "We would need to study their population extensively to come to any conclusion. A similar survey is ongoing in the U.S., but the ones who profit from the system are reluctant to comply. In our world, ten percent of people saw a significant increase in capabilities with the system. And based on the labyrinth incident, one in a thousand could prove a real threat."
"And they were only given less than two months to grow," Rook adds.
"Not only that, but their access to dungeons had to be limited," Daniel adds. He opens his own status and sighs. The sight of his lowly second level disheartens him. "Most of us could require years of regular raids to reach level twenty. It must be the same here. Most of their soldiers would never have reached her level. But if one of the labyrinth''s strongest was given a decade to train, they would surpass her. The Paladin is already there."
"Do not mention him," Rook reminds him. They were ordered to forget about his presence; it escaped Daniel. She extends her hand before her, looking at something Daniel cannot see. "The difference in our leveling speeds isn''t everything. Some, like me, see and direct the Ether with a mere thought; others, like you, cannot sense it. Without it, you cannot feed your abilities, making you even weaker."
Something whips Daniel''s back. It brings him to his knees; blood seeps into his mouth, filling his nose with its stench. Rook stares south, behind Daniel. He stands and turns around to see fire illuminating the top of the nearby mountain. Something moves in the crater ¨C a mass of red scales. It unfurls its wings and breathes out a column of fire that pierces the clouded sky.
The dragon''s roar reverberates through the air, drowning out their guns. The sight of it makes Daniel fall back down, his legs giving up. It climbs out of the mountain, dragging clouds of dust and debris behind it.
"Major Rook to Lieutenant-Colonel Alastair," Rook begins. "I have eyes on what I can only describe as a dragon. Request immediate support for aerial engagement, over."
The beast takes flight, its eyes trained on the portal. It moves with incommensurable speed, crossing the kilometers separating them in seconds. The winds it creates uproot trees as it hurtles towards the fortress. The Apaches rise, unleashing their remaining rockets and shells on the beast. Explosions bloom across its body, unable to slow it down.
With another roar, the dragon beats its wings, summoning an expanding gale. The force shatters the rotors of the closest Apache, sending it spiraling to the edge of the tree line. The remaining helicopter retreats, its pilot struggling to maintain control.Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.
Rook yells orders through her radio, her voice drowned out by the furious winds. The Abrams fire at it from the fort''s exterior, their sabots breaking through its scales but not its flesh, spreading them like shrapnel. The southernmost artillery fires shells that scatter flames across its body, unable to wound it.
The dragon descends upon the fort. Its maw opens wide, revealing a furnace-like glow that outshines the setting sun. A torrent of fire erupts ¨C a searing beam of destruction that engulfs the fortress''s outer wall. Abrams and fortified positions melt. The defenses are reduced to slag, glowing embers rising from the ground.
Rook''s radio comes to life. "Vice Admiral Andersen to Major Rook. We diverted F-16s to your positions; they should be with you any moment now. Over."
''This isn''t right. The sixth fleet would take hours to send a fighter from their carrier,'' Daniel thinks. He stands back up, the thought of what could be happening on the other side giving him the strength to go look through the portal.
The smell of fire and ash invades Althea''s lungs. As she opens her eyes, embers fill her blurred sight, dancing in the air and slowly descending on her. She digs her armored finger into the mud below her. They twitch, her every muscle protesting against her intent. The world swims around her, the edges of her vision dark. Her chest feels heavy, as though a mountain presses on her ribs.
The sound of battle crashes into her ¨C a symphony of thunderous cracks, shrieking wings, and the guttural roar of a beast. She hears the ogres roaring in pain near her, their massive form rolling in the mud. Memories flood back with nauseating speed, and her heart rages to life. It races recklessly, each beat coming with a sharp pain.
Althea groans, her voice drowned beneath the storm of chaos around her. She touches her chest, finding a hole in her armor and flesh. Through her blurred vision, Althea sees a dragon landing on the fort''s right side, peeling off its towers and walls.
The beast''s red scales shine with the fire it brought, each edged with blackened cracks. Heat radiates from its body in waves, distorting the air around it. Smoke trails from its maw as liquid fire drools from it. It roars again, the sound reverberating deep into Althea''s bones.
Althea freezes, her eyes locked on the beast as old tomes'' images strike her mind. This is Cinderis, the Scorching Scourge, a creature who can destroy kingdoms. Althea''s breath catches, and she grabs her sword from the ground. For a second, she sees someone standing atop Cinderis, somewhere on the dragon''s back. Pain stabs her leg as she tries to stand, her bone still shattered.
Althea closes her eyes to draw light Ether from her oath. Searing pain burns her heart, denying her Seraphel''s help. She peers into the Ether and senses death Ether carved onto her heart. It forms sigils unknown to her that come to agonizing life as she tries to summon light Ether.
Panic takes Althea as she realizes she cannot sense Seraphel''s presence ¨C that constant feeling of safety she always lived with. She glances around, finding Leofric''s form fallen beside her. Ignoring her side and chest burning with pain, she dives her hand into his satchels and retrieves vials.
Cinderis'' chest heaves as it prepares another breath, her throat glowing along cracks in her scales. Its tail lashes behind it, crushing fleeing enemies and making the ground tremble.
The portal unleashes ear-piercing screams. The very air shakes, sending tremors through Altea''s armor. A metal bird, its wings stiff to its sides, bursts through the portal and soars high into the sky. The dragon''s attention snaps to it, and it flies after the new beast.
Althea removes her helmet and drinks up a healing potion. A soothing warmth blooms in her chest, spreading through her veins, knitting her wounds. The stabbing pains in her chest dull. The fractured bone in her leg begins to mend, the sensation agonizing as the broken pieces move to fuse back together.
"Leofric," Althea whispers as she rolls to her knees. She presses a hand to his neck, searching for a pulse. She finds none and soon sees the opposite half of his head, blown off by another spell.
Althea bows over his body, her head touching his armor as tears burgeon in her eyes. She glances back up at the crumbling fort; a figure watches her from above. ''Mourn later,'' Althea hears Leofric say. She wipes the tears from her face, smearing ash and blood across her skin.
A flash of light comes at her from the fort''s walls. She protects herself from it, blocking a spell with the kite shield still strapped to her forearm. She has to take to the fort and kill their leader, their hero, who spearheads the invasion. It will give her world time to prepare for what is to come, even if it is as little as another week.
Cinderis twists in the air as their beast of metal turns around, its speed superior to that of the dragon. One after the other, iron birds burst through the portal along with piercing screams. They arc upward, soaring into the sky to reform in a flock of fourteen beasts. They chase the dragon and unleash a torrent of fire bolts onto its back.
Althea uncorks another of Leofric''s potions, a vial of deep orange bearing the glass sculpture of a bear. She hesitates only a moment before drinking it. The taste burns like molten metal against her tongue.
A fire ignites in her chest, spreading through her veins like wildfire. Her muscles billow with steam as she triggers Strengthening, the ability allowed to go further by the potion. Every ache, every pain, is drowned in an overwhelming tide of power. Her vision sharpens, every ember in the air becoming distinct and slower. She sees a path to the gate as the fire covering it dies down. Her heart pounds like a war drum, urging her to move.
Replacing her helmet, Althea breaks into a sprint. She tears through the mud; each step feels like it threatens to lift her into the air. Something explodes under her right foot, tumbling her. She steadies herself and charges through the path, her armor and shield deflecting countless spells.
With a battle cry, Althea crashes into the fort''s gates. The wood and iron shatters under her weight and strength. Splinters rain down around her as she charges through the breach.
A man levels a metallic log at her. She bursts forward, leaving him no time to act before she slams her shield in his guts. He flies backward and splatters against a wall, his blood raining on others cowering behind cover.
''Vow of destruction,'' Althea thinks. The world darkens; only the enemies she sees remain, highlighted in blood red. They rise from their covers, using their artifacts to unleash spells that skid off her. More on the ramparts do the same, their attacks unable to harm her. She moves forward and kicks a cut half wall of slick stone, hurling it at two of them.
The rock crushes them and rolls over their frame. The red auras Althea sees leave their bodies to seep into her. A shimmer of light rises along her blade, armor, and shield, humming with power. Some of the world''s colors return to her, making her aware of her surroundings.
Arrows fly from the outside, striking exposed enemies in the side and neck. War cries come from behind Althea as heavy infantry bearing Vandris'' colors charge through the broken door. They are few, but they are angry and bloodthirsty. The enemies'' artifacts fail against their Ether-rich, thick armor and shields. Her allies'' speed overwhelms the enemies'' sparse lines. They may be terrifying at range, but they fall like flies in melee combat.
They retreat into a tunnel, forming a column that unleashes incessant spells. Althea charges shield first into it. Each step reverberates with metallic clang, drowning out the panicked shouts of those before her.
A cluster of enemies scrambles to exchange parts of their artifacts for new ones. Shielding herself from the others, she lunges at them, her blade cleaving through their bodies. Each kill gives strength to her gear, making her sword sharper and her armor lighter.
She hurls her shield into the next group, her power and weight spreading them across the wall. The remaining flee, giving up on slowing down her advance. Althea tears off a loose rock from the wall and hurls it at them. It pierces through three men, scattering their chests.
The last of them exit the corridor and close a door. Metallic spheres fall from the overhead murder holes. They bounce in metallic clicks and detonate. In a blast of light and sound, thousands of projectiles hit her, scraping against her armor and rare exposed skin.
Althea turns to see the men who followed her screaming in pain. Several bleed from the joints of their armor, only covered in leather and cloth. Others tumble around, holding their ears. One removes his helmet to reveal his torn-out eyes.
Althea runs down the remaining portion of the corridor, barreling through the door. She breaks it along the stones that held it in place. It leads her to an inner yard where enemies run towards the portal. Cracks of thunder rage from above the murder holes, striking her allies on the head.
A metal beast turns its head, aiming a large, hollowed staff at Althea. She raises her shield, deflecting attacks as she charges the monster. She can feel its spells, like hammers swung at her by an ogre. She crashes into the beast, but it doesn''t move. Althea dashes along its rectangular body, hurling her sword through it. She hits something hard, her blade stopping into it. The beast''s incessant roars die, and clear, translucent blood pours out of the wound.
Cinderis twists in the air as the flock rises above the clouds after a raid on its side. It sends a column of fire after them, lighting the sky with crimson flames. Head-sized embers rain down upon the fort, bringing along billowing black smoke.
Interlude II – War – Part 6
Duke Felspar appears from the corridor leading to the main gate. Heavy infantry rushes into the yard. The enemies cower, moving behind one another as only one of them uses his artifact at once. They flee melee combat but are allowed no such luxury.
"Their walls have fallen!" Felspar roars, his voice reaching over the ramparts. "Have no mercy for these traitors! In the name of the King, let none survive!"
Fire crashes next to Althea, igniting the metallic beast''s blood. A man appears from its top and climbs down the other side. A powerful impact on the brow twists Althea''s head. She glances to see a man aiming a long artifact at her from one of the inner stronghold''s towers.
She jumps on the burning metal beast and slices through the base of its head. Sheathing her sword, she heaves the head by its artifact and spins on herself. With a final throw, she hurls the hunk of metal at the tower, breaking its outer wall. It crumbles, losing one stone after the other until the entire tower collapses.
"They try to flee through the hole in the south wall!" Felspar bellows. As he turns to face his men, Althea sees his missing left arm, blown off at the shoulder. He aims his blade at the next gate, in the direction of the fort''s core. "Take to the stronghold! Deny them their retreat! Make them pay in blood for each of our fallen comrades!"
The shimmer around Althea''s blade turns to solid light parkoured by cracks of white lightning. The world''s colors return more vibrant than before, her enemies still highlighted with red. Armand said he only heard of Vow of destruction once. It rewards its user for every slain enemy until a threshold where it unlocks its full potential.
Althea realizes that, in the thrill of battle, she forgot about the duke''s son, or even the other knights. She looks back and sees none of them. The rare few who found their way here all bare different markings. They are the last survivors of their squads.
The world feels slower to her; she sees it in all its details. Every drop of blood drawn by one of their artifacts splashes distinctly in her sight. There is a mechanism to them, a cycle in which each attack ejects a brass cylinder. The more she looks at it, the less it feels like magic. Thirty attacks, and then they need to exchange a part. The artifacts near her emit no aura, and neither do the ones they hold.
Deafening thrums echo from the portal. New enemies pour out from the tear in reality, motioning for their fleeing comrades to go behind them. These ones advance towards the heavy infantry, laying down a tempest of projectiles from bulkier artifacts. They show no fear. Even when charged, they methodically aim for the joints, feet, hands, and neck.
Archers enter the yard from the gate''s corridor. Marquis Vandris appears with them, several healed wounds visible on his chest. Seeing them exposed to the enemies'' attacks, Felspar motions for them to dive to the ground. He bellows, "Form a shield wall at the edge of the breach! Vandris, turn their ranks to ash!"
Althea breaks into a run to join the wall. Felspar stops her with the flat of his blade. "Go to their inner stronghold; that''s where their champions will be," he says. "Vandris and I will block their path through the portal; you make sure none of them remain in our backs."
"And Cinderis?" Althea asks, glancing at the dragon.
"One world-ending problem at a time," Felspar says. "Go, champion of the light. Make your god proud."
His words ring hollow to Althea, nothing like the pride it triggered hours ago. She cannot linger on this feeling and shakes it off to give back into the thrill of battle. She nods and turns around, breaking into a run towards the next gate.
Vandris summons fireballs in his hands. He aims above the shield wall and fires them. They arch and fall beyond his men, detonating to liquid-like fire that sticks to its victims. Metallic spheres fly to him; with a gust of wind, he sends them high into the air before they explode.
Stepping away from any ally, Althea feels like she can trigger the abilities she restrains when her comrades could be hit. With her mind, she focuses on a ring she wears and triggers its power. ''Aura of conquest,'' she thinks.
She breaks through the next door as if it were made of straw. Enemies fire at her, but after an instant they cower behind cover, groaning in pain. Her aura strikes them with blades of Ether, cutting shallow gashes in their flesh.
The power of her ring extends along her crackling sword, coating the blade in an additional layer of Ether. She swings at their positions in a dance that propels waves of energy. Each strike cuts through their covers and bodies, spreading past them into the ground, walls, and buildings.
Althea pushes onward, her body a blur of motion. The fort''s walls shake with the force of her strikes, each resonating with a disintegrating hum. The enemies in her path scramble to evade her, their strength reduced to nothing in the face of her power. Every time they regroup, she''s already upon them, her blade cutting through their fortifications.
Their ranks break as she intensifies her aura. Some fall into a maddened frenzy as fear presses upon their minds. Those who would have fought back now flee, the air alive with their despair.
As she reaches the last inner gate, it explodes. The detonation sends her rolling to the ground, shrapnel hitting the few she spared. Her blade escapes her grasp and stabs itself into the ground. Two figures appear from the vanishing dust. The woman of the duo emits a powerful aura. Althea rolls to her feet and lunges at them to leave them no time to act.
Althea stops midair, lifted by a spell, before she can grab her sword. With her hand extended towards Althea, the woman barks an order to the giant in sand-colored armor beside her.
He jogs to Althea and grabs her sword from the ground. He seems unaffected by her aura. The woman''s spell spreads Althea''s limb to the sides, opening her to her underling. ''Resolve,'' Althea triggers, sensing panic growing in her mind.
Althea focuses Strengthening on her right arm, forcing it to aim at the woman. If she can level her fingers at her target, she can unleash her only offensive spell. At twenty meters, it is still possible to hit her even through metal gauntlets.
The giant poses himself for a thrust at the mail joining her chest and legs. A thrum fills the air; the woman gasps as a sword impales her in the stomach. The blade''s angular inertia throws her to the ground.
Althea falls from the spell''s hold. Her own blade misses its target but still cuts her side. She jabs the man in the face, sending him reeling. Following up, Althea joins her fists and strikes on top of his skull. She feels his spine''s disks crushing each other; he falls to the ground.
The woman stands. She removes the blade and sears the wound with a Flamme spell. Althea looks back to see Armand running towards her, still far away. The woman casts another spell and runs back to the tower, her steps eased by winds dancing around her.
''If I capture her, we could learn their tactics,'' Althea realizes. She runs after the woman, entering the stronghold right after her. The woman extends her hand behind herself and unleashes a torrent of fire in the stairs. Althea shields herself from the blast and continues, parting the flames with her shield.If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.
They reach a large room opened by large slits in the walls. The woman stops, her back to a wooden crate from which she pries a metal cylinder. Colored ropes link it to the crate''s insides.
Althea sheathes her sword, ready to knock her out with a punch. She approaches slowly, her shield up, tensing her arm to keep it aimed should the woman levitate Althea once more.
The metal birds scream as they arc around the fort. Cinderis dives after them, edging close to the stronghold. One after the other, they pass through the portal, vanishing from sight. Cinderis'' wing crashes into the fort, beneath Althea.
Althea tumbles in the rolling room, feeling gravity losing its grasps on her as the building falls. She''s ejected through an opening, unable to catch a wall to stop herself.
Althea''s sight spins, her side burning with pain as she''s bent by the winds. The howling filling her ears grows louder as the ground approaches. She crashes into a rock, hurling its shards into the air.
Althea groans, her vision doubling as her fingers dig into the surface of the rock she crashed into. A flash of light fills her sight; she looks up to see the portal''s gaping maw in front of her. The sky above the desert she sees lights up with streaks of light. Explosions paint the night in fire and smoke, their thundering impact echoing delayed.
A line of metal giants, square beasts thrice the size of any cart, spit abyssfire that churns the air and splits the sand. Above them, the looming silhouette of a titanic bird circles like a vulture. It roars with countless firebolts, striking distant spots with blinding explosions. Fireballs spit out from its sides, descending upon their horrifying battlefield.
Althea coughs blood. She forces herself to stand, her muscles screaming in protest. The woman''s corpse lies close, crushed by the crate she leaned on. Althea is hurled backward; something exploded past the portal, projecting her with an unstoppable force. Althea rolls into the mud. She tries to breathe, but her lungs refuse, unable to draw air as her sternum expands with pain.
Althea''s mind races. She has seen horrors before ¨C twisted creatures summoned from dark rituals, monsters who feed on children ¨C but nothing like this. These enemies all wield powers Mages need years to equal. Their beasts tear men apart, besting even their most precious armor. And through the portal, she sees them raining death from the skies.
She staggers to her feet, her legs threatening to buckle beneath her. The ground trembles with the pounding of their war. Althea''s ears ring, her senses overwhelmed. Her chest tightens as the realization sinks in. Her world is doomed; no nation, not even hers, which prides itself so grand, can stop them.
A woman wearing scorched rags steps past Althea to walk towards the portal, blazing red hair floating behind her. Her bare feet melt the ground to slag, sending radiating heat.
"Not even four centuries," the woman laments. She yawns, closing her eyes despite the danger in front of her. She turns her head towards Althea and smiles. "Hello, little Paladin. Why are you staring at me like that?"
The inconceivable number crowning the woman freezes Althea in place. Hundreds of thousands of people died by her hand. Yet Althea''s talent doesn''t warn her of any bloodthirst from the woman.
"Who are you?" Althea manages to ask.
"Your civilization ought to keep better records; it would be respectful to remember your heroes," the woman says. She breathes in, and Ether rushes into her, creating a temporary void around them. "I am Rhaelyra."
Althea''s mind rushes to childhood bedtime stories. Rhaelyra Eboncrest, the adventurer who died to end Cinderis'' carnage. Her companions long died of old age, and yet she looks as young as Althea. She says, "It''s you I saw atop Cinderis. The stories said you killed it and that you died in the fight."
"Her?" Rhaelyra asks. She turns towards the dragon landing far behind them, crushing the trees, her wings spreading to hide the dying sun. "Ignivara is her daughter; Cinderis is dead."
Somehow, despite the carnage and imminent threat, that news relieves part of Althea''s worries. Seeing the dragon so calm after her carnage, as if waiting on her mistress, makes her seem harmless. Well, as harmless as a castle-sized dragon can be.
"I will give you some time," Rhaelyra says. A spell reaches her from an enemy. The projectile melts in the air, its remnants splashing harmlessly against her skin. "Soon, I''ll sleep again, and it will be up to your people to stop them. My kindred who opened the portal is slumbering for now, but when he wakes up, he will open the others."
"When? And how do you know? Who is he?" Althea asks.
"The Ether told me; you should try to listen to it. Now watch. You must not despair for your state; you have the potential for what I will show you." Rhaelyra extends her arms to the sides. The fires of the fort rise as ribbons of red light, drawn to her like to the center of a storm. Her voice strengthens, echoing not through the air but through the Ether. "By the blood I was given, I claim her strength as mine. Let my mortal form be no more; that I may purify the world by her flames. So, her crimes may one day be repaid. Dragonheart."
The air trembles as all the Ether Althea can sense rushes into Rhaelyra. Fire spirals around her, forming a vortex of molten streaks. The ground around her liquifies; it turns to glowing red magma. Her body changes. Scales of deep crimson emerge along her skin, gleaming like gemstones. Claws, glinting like steel, replace her fingertips. The fire molds into blinding wings and tail; it vanishes, revealing the red, scaled limbs.
Her eyes are the last to change. The pupils narrow into slits, their natural green replaced by burning flames. She takes a step forward, and the ground quakes. The man who shot her bursts into blue flames; his form vanishes in an instant. Her form radiates an oppressive heat, bending the air into shimmering waves.
She turns toward the portal. Rhaelyra raises a clawed hand; an inferno swirls into it, coalescing into an orb of blue fire. The fireball surges forward with a blast that drowns out every other sound. It passes through the portal as a streak of light. Its explosion rivals the dawn, bathing them in a light so brilliant that Althea has to shield her eyes. When the glare fades, the desert is no more. Blue fire covers the other side of the portal, licking through it at its edges.
Althea does not find Rhaelyra; she vanished amidst the flash of light. Ignivara, as Althea remembers Rhaelyra calling her, flies off north, her form already turning distant.
Duke Felspar passes through the ranks holding the breach in the fort''s wall. Removing his helmet, he stares at the portal with wide eyes. Blood covers one of his eyes, seeping through his temple.
Armand and marquis Vandris join him, soon imitated by thirty soldiers of all callings. Some fall to their knees, their bodies realizing the gravity of their wounds and exhaustion.
"Is it¡ everyone?" Althea asks. She glances at the clearing in front of the fort. Bodies litter its mud, and none seem to move. They form a mass of bloodied leather and armor as large as their army was hours ago. She falls back, sitting on a rock behind her as her stomach churns.
"There are wounded we can still save among them," Armand says. He grabs her forearm, pointlessly tugging on it as he lacks the strength to lift her armor. "Get up; we have to help them."
"I can''t," Althea mutters. Armand freezes at her words. She cannot see his face through his helmet, but she can still read his confusion. "Something happened to me. I¡ died on that field. Whatever brought me back stops me from calling upon his Ether. I can''t heal them!"
Felspar glances at his missing arm; he closes his eyes and inhales deeply. "None of our healers survived. We will scavenge for their potions and give them to those who need them the most. The rest will have to wait for our return to the camp. Lieutenant Viremont, take half of the heavy infantry and clear the fort. Take prisoners if you can; we need to know more about their world."
Althea watches the duke''s calm resolve, his composure maddeningly stoic. She grips her knees; a void inside her grows deeper with every breath. The god she knew as her guiding light feels impossibly far away, unreachable. Even without this curse, what he did, for the greater good it may be, makes her angry. Angry at his betrayal not only of her but of all those who lie dead in the mud.
The cries of lingering soldiers outside the fort claw at her soul. Felspar and his men move through the carnage, triaging who they can. Every scream, every shuddering gasp for air feels like an accusation. Finally ready to see, to have an absolute confirmation of her state, she opens her status.
Althea Drevoss
Lv.20/20 (Paladin) Human
Lv.9/30 (Ascended ¨C Adjudicator)
Strength: 30 Charisma: 17
Dexterity: 15 Perception: 23
Constitution: 27 Willpower: 28
Intelligence: 14
Talent
Killers'' tally
Second oath
Titles
Ascended
Ascended skill ¨C Melee weapon (long sword)
Basilisk huntress
Dungeon conqueror (B)
Dungeon conqueror (C)
Dungeon conqueror (D)
Dungeon conqueror (E)
Dungeon conqueror (F)
Ghoul huntress
Griffin huntress
Harpy huntress
Human huntress
Imp huntress
Kin slayer
Kobold huntress
Lesser demon huntress
Mistress of the hunt
Ogre huntress
Saurian huntress
Abilities
Aura of conquest (F)
Aura of sanctity (F)
Banishment (E)
Divine oath (Seraphel) (D)
Endurance (D)
Ether ward (D)
Purify (D)
Resolve (D)
Spellcasting (E)
Strengthening (D)
Toughness (D)
Vow of Destruction (F)
Alteration
???
Chapter 111: N.E.S.T.
Repeated beeps fill Ethan''s mind. He forces his tired eyes open and finds himself in a gray concrete room. A window to his right shows a landscape of snowy mountains. A monitor is linked to him, beeping at the slow rhythm of his heart.
How long has it been? Earth still exists, and his muscles are still there; it cannot have been long. He looks around for the time, but neither the monitor nor the shut-down TV show it. He probes for his phone but only finds scrub pants.
His muscles feel paralyzed, slowly coming to life with a thousand buzzes growing in them. He triggers predator''s sight to spy on the conversations, but the thick, soundproof walls inhibit his ability.
High-heels echo behind the door, followed by a pair of sneakers. To Ethan''s relief, Tombstone opens the door. She looks back and orders away the nurse who followed her.
Tombstone strides into the room, a reinforced tablet under her arm. She places down a bag she held in her left hand. Her heels click against the concrete floor until she sits down in a chair beside his bed.
"I guess I''m back to the base," Ethan says. He tries to sit up, but his body protests. "How long have I been out for?"
Tombstone looks up to him, taking a deadpan expression. "You missed World War Three."
"The landscape seems a little too unnuked for it to be credible," Ethan retorts. She doesn''t break from her serious expression. Could it be that he missed years of conflicts? The absence of withered muscles seems to indicate the contrary, but perhaps the system kept them trained. "Are you serious?"
"I am," Tombstone begins. She taps on her screen, and the room''s TV lights up, showing a desert engagement. Ethan recognizes American and Chinese vehicles. "It lasted only one night; they fought for the portal you opened."
"Who won?" Ethan asks.
"No one," Tombstone answers. She taps on her screen; the TV switches to a satellite view of a sea of blue flames. "Something attacked from the other side. These flames don''t weaken; they''ve been like that for a week."
"How long have I been out for?"
"Two weeks," Tombstone answers. She switches the display to a body scan showing bones, blood vessels, and organs. Her jaw tenses, making her seem angry. "You haven''t been ''out''; you were dead. Your heart stopped on the helicopter."
"And yet I''m here; what happened?" Ethan asks. Besides, neither Kaliathra nor her underlings showed up in his sleep, making it improbable.
"We don''t know," Tombstone answers. His first guess was that they used a potion, artifact, or ability. How could they not know if they are the ones who brought him back? "Your body started drawing Ether on its own, and while it shouldn''t have been possible, your brain showed activity. Beside your heart, it looked like you were hibernating. Your entire body slowed down to almost stop. It started beating again yesterday; that''s when they took you off the pump."
"That''s not something humans do," Ethan slowly says.
"No, it''s not. Speaking of not being human, would you care to explain why you have two spleens, too many lymph nodes, a secondary liver, and three kidneys? And that''s only what we found without opening you up."
''Walked right into that one,'' Ethan thinks. He presses against his side, trying to find that third kidney. He glances at the camera with an eye motion obvious enough for her to notice. She deactivates it from her tablet. "Remember the fruit I told you made me taller?"
"Yes," Tombstone says with a raised eyebrow.
"It was the least of its effects," Ethan begins. He opens his status for her to see. "It evolved me to something called a High-Human. And more importantly, it gives me visions of the past and future when I experience triggers. There is one I saw when I touched the fruit I need to talk to you about. But I need you to accept a contract to explain everything."
"You want me to sign something now? Are you sure your head is ¨C" She stops herself as the Pact of Silence appears in front of her. She reads through it. "Who is the question marks who can release me from this contract? Don''t tell me you don''t know."
"My best guess is the servant of the goddess of death who swore me to secrecy. I met her in the labyrinth. But seeing as it can be extended to others, it might have come from someone or something else."
"The servant of a goddess, sure¡" Tombstone holds his gaze; he lets nothing appear in his expression, making it as serious as possible. She accepts the pact and the window vanishes. "Go on."
"Caelum Cindralis, the man I hunt, will sacrifice our world to make a new god. If what I learned is correct, our world is a shard of their original god. He wants to turn it back into that shard, billions of people included," Ethan reveals. It might have been too harsh, but he knows her to be stoic and analytical. "He took an item he needs for that from my father. And I know he has to do it in the underground of Kingsreach''s royal magic academy."
Tombstone stares at Ethan, her expression unreadable as she processes his words. Her hand whips at his face without warning. He dodges the slap, her motion too slow for him.
"You knew this last month? And kept it to yourself?" she hisses. Her hand tightens to a fist at her side as she glares at him. "Didn''t you think the billions of people deserved a heads up?"
"I ¨C" Ethan starts, but she cuts him off. Why is she, who''s usually so calm, so furious at him? Ethan notices makeup hiding exhausted eyes; is it fatigue?
"Where is that place I can''t pronounce?" Tombstone asks.
"The English translation would be Kingsreach," Ethan says. "It''s the capital of their largest country."The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.
"So, it''s in their world." She sighs. "Why didn''t you say something sooner?"
"For all I knew before the labyrinth, it could have been a hallucination." Ethan answers. "We spoke through the phone; neither of us trust them enough to share that kind of information. If they knew they would keep me in a room watching news, hoping I get visions."
Tombstone sighs. "You are only telling me because you need my help, aren''t you?"
Ethan looks to the side. "He needs something more from our world than the medallion he stole from my father. He may already have it; they spent millennia among us. But if he doesn''t, he will come back for it."
"And you want to find him if he does," Tombstone says. She sinks in her chair with a sigh. "You can''t keep things like this from me, even if you don''t find it credible yet. It''s not what we promised each other."
"It''s not," Ethan confirms. Even inside of N.E.S.T., she''s the only one he trusts with absolute certainty. He would count on One as well, but the boy is too loyal to lie to their superiors. "You stopped yourself from telling me something when we were in my home; what was it?"
She looks away, her expression shifting to discomfort. "Four is missing. We lost his phone on the day the system appeared, and we have had no contact since."
It strikes Ethan to the chest with the force of a hammer. He calms himself, letting no emotion show in his expression. The logical conclusion is that Lucian teleported to the other world. Not coming back could mean he exited the dungeon without killing the boss, not finding a return stone.
"You are taking it better than I thought," Tombstone says.
"You don''t have to keep things from me," Ethan retorts.
"Sorry," she says.
"You don''t have to be; we both lied to each other," Ethan says. He sits on the edge of the bed for his shadow to extend to the ground. "Speaking of new things. Russ, come."
Russ leaps out of Ethan''s shadow, landing beside Tombstone. She lets out a scream, standing in surprise. "What did you do to him?!"
"He was bitten by a corrupted man; it turned him into a monster," Ethan says. "Luckily for us, I met someone, a servant of the same goddess, who had a potion to restore his mind."
Russ rubs against her legs, nudging her hand for pets. She shakes his fluffy fur, taking care to avoid the spikes on his back. "That''s you who stole from the mess. They kept saying there was a monster, but that''s you who terrorized our staff."
Russ jumps on the bed and flattens himself over Ethan to cuddle him as much as he can. He licks his master''s face, Ethan trying to dodge the incessant attacks.
"Off," Ethan commands. He sits back up and locks eyes with Tombstone. "If I survived, Aranthor Elarion¡ Christopher Hayes might have. Do you know what happened to his body?"
"Same as the labyrinth survivors," Tombstone says. She taps on her screen; video feeds of cells appear on the TV. Ethan sees faces he recognizes in them: Anders, River, Ivy, Derek, and others. "Taken to the U.S. for questioning and held since. Surprisingly, no one snitched on you."
It is indeed surprising. Ethan didn''t expect any such gesture from them. "If Lucien was alive, he would have told them everything he could."
"D''Arcange?" Tombstone asks. Ethan nods. "He¡ survived. Someone got him out of there. He was still completely burned when they did, though."
"Who is his Palpatine?" Ethan asks.
"New church. A lot of important people joined them, and, while they don''t use it much, they have huge theoretical influence." Photos of meetings slide on the TV, showing politicians, military officers, and celebrities. A lot of them sport a symbol of Seraphel as a ring, earring, tie clip, or necklace. "Some of our biggest clients are in there."
"Well, not on my side of things," Ethan comments. "I know this one has a huge public contract with us; has something changed since? Seraphel''s influence can be quite domineering."
"Not yet," Tombstone answers.
"We should make sure none of them are among us. I fear their god can listen through them," Ethan says. He sees Tombstone rolling her eyes, as if he said something obvious. "I need to go to Kingsreach. I can use the pirates I control to travel on a boat, but it will take me a lot of time. I might need to go for months. Plus, I''ll soon reach my maximum level, and that means some time in the realm of Ascension."
"You aren''t going anywhere until you prove you''re fully healed. You barely awoke; I''m not letting you leave until you see doctors and get tested."
"I doubt you could stop me," Ethan slowly says. She stares at him with an unyielding gaze. "Alright, I''ll subject myself to it. But it needs to be quick; I''m on a tight schedule."
Tombstone hands him the bag she came with. It holds grey and black sport clothes and shoes. Ethan winces at the sight; they look quite distasteful. She moves back to the door to leave him alone with Russ.
Ethan joins Tombstone outside. The hospital section of the base swarms with activity. This area is only accessible to their underworld staff, and yet, despite their small number, he senses many wounded in the rooms.
"What is happening? I don''t think I have ever seen this place that busy," Ethan asks.
"The most recent of the dungeons'' injuries," Tombstone says. She motions for him to walk towards the exit door. "It isn''t as bad as the first time. Our new staff is working on a next potion batch; they''ll be healed soon. By the way, your gift to the labyrinth''s survivors was quite expensive."
"I sensed the team wearing Ether-infused protections. Is that something we have available now?" Ethan asks.
"You can ask the armorer about it," Tombstone answers.
They exit on an overhead corridor whose windows give onto a large hangar. A squad of soldiers wearing the black and gray N.E.S.T.''s uniform moves into a Blackhawk. Their leader''s radio chatters, and he orders his pilot to take off.
"We''re back up?" Ethan asks. "I thought they ordered everyone to come back in for training in the dungeons."
Tombstone looks down to the hangar. "With parties being limited to four people, it didn''t take long for us to run out of dungeon stones. Plus, our data shows that people do not grow at a homogenous speed. The majority would need years to reach level twenty."
"Care to elaborate?" Ethan asks.
Tombstone shows him data graphs on her tablet. "At an equal level, some soldiers need to participate in more combat than others. Not only that, but there is also an exponential growth to the¡ experience needed for each level. The monster''s level is important too, as the stronger they are, the more¡ experience they give."
"You mapped it out really well. The ones on the bad side of that normal distribution must not feel great," Ethan comments.
"Well," she begins, annoyed. "Because it couldn''t be that simple, people tend to move around in that graph. Someone who struggled to gain a level one day could reach the next one in half the work the next. It''s stupid, and it doesn''t make sense, and I hate it."
''It has indeed been quite inconsistent, for me or Russ,'' Ethan thinks. He ponders about Tatiana''s and Sylas'' talent; how does it affect these growth speeds? ''It would be nice to know how to stay at maximum efficiency.''
They descend a staircase and reach a network of wide corridors. Tombstone knocks on the first door to the right, a medical laboratory in Ethan memories, and opens. A man in white overcoat spins his stool to face them.
"The miracle," the doctor says. He stands to approach and motions for Ethan to take place on his inclined chair. "I fear it may take some time, Miss Tombstone. Perhaps I can text you once I am down with Mister Five."
She turns to Ethan. "After that, you''ll check your physical abilities with our combat instructor and your capabilities at the armory. They have already been notified."
"Sure," Ethan says. He sits on the white inclined chair. "See you."
The doctor closes the door behind her. Another door opens, revealing a chemical lab as a man crosses the door''s threshold. "Welcome, mister Ward," Mr. Miy? says. He freezes, his eyes darting to the other doctor.
"Don''t worry, it isn''t my real name," Ethan says. Is it who Tombstone referred to as ''new staff''? He holds a series of tubes in his tray, each filled with red liquid. If he''s in this section of the base, it means he''s aware of the illegality of his work. "Here, you may call me Five."
Sylas – Chapter 5: Inadequacy
In the last weeks, the landscape thickened, exchanging the vast fields of wheat and grass for dense, ancient forests. Sylas walks at the end of the formation, watching for anything following them. His feet hurt. Each of his steps sparks pain at the base of his toes, where the constant stress burned his skin.
He learned that out of the twenty-seven people he travels with, only five are competent. Liliana knows everything there is to survival, from hunting to building shelters and cooking. Her one fault, if it is one at all, is how deeply she sleeps. Sylas woke her up this morning, and she called him Maren, asking repeatedly for a few more minutes that turned into an hour.
Two of the Corporals, whose last names are Walf and Storis, spent their lives as soldiers. Every evening, they boast about the monsters they killed. And seeing them train, it might be true.
The last Corporal, Hawryn, reminds Sylas of Grim. He doesn''t talk much and tends to vanish at night, placing himself in some hidden spot to watch the camp. Some of his soldiers say that he was an adventurer and joined the army a few years ago for the money.
"Water, sir?" Gavriel asks, holding a leather water skin. The sixteen-year-old sweats profusely under his gambeson, the smell of acrid spices stinging Sylas'' nose.
"Thank you," Sylas says as he takes the water skin. The boy is an airhead lacking rigor and motivation, flaws for which Storis tortures him. Yet during their journey, he helped others with their duties and tried to learn everything he could. Amongst the twenty-three men-at-arms, Gavriel is the only one who seems normal. His childness is a stark contrast to his battle-hungry, bovine comrades.
"Get back into formation!" Storis orders Gavriel. Sylas tosses him the water skin, and it slips off the boy''s hands. Gavriel grabs it from the ground and runs back at the end of his squad.
Liliana raises her open hand, halting them. She directs her horse to the end of the formation and stops next to Sylas. "We are going to set camp in the cliffs," she explains, motioning at a path splitting into the forest. A large tree-covered mountain lies behind. "You should take a squad and continue down the road towards Balmwood. It''s the largest village of the grove; it will please them to know that we''ll stay in the area. Do not mention the Orcs; we are just here to train for a few weeks."
"They should know if it¡¯s a danger to them. But we are still days south of the frontier," Sylas mutters. He motions for Storis to approach. He''s the most presentable of the three with his medium frame, trimmed beard, and absence of facial scars. "How long to reach Balmwood?"
"Half an hour from here," Liliana says. Storis joins them, stopping to salute. Liliana kicks with her heel, putting her horse into motion. "Be back before dusk."
"We are going to present ourselves to our new neighbors. Make sure your men behave like proper humans," Sylas orders. He closes his eyes and rubs his upper nose, realizing how contemptuous he must sound. Their constant vulgarity annoys him, but it is no reason to be insulting. "I''m sorry, I shouldn¡¯t have said that."
Storis nods, his expression unreadable. He closes his fist and moves it downward before gesturing at the road, commanding his squad to walk forward. He asks, "Permission to be honest, sir?"
Sylas'' heart skips a beat. What insults could that stoic man have in mind for an imposter like him? He dreads for a moment and says, "Yes."
Storis turns to walk forward as the squad is distancing them. He motions for Sylas to walk next to him. He inhales and says, "We are all tired, so your frustration doesn''t surprise me. And besides, it is justified."
Sylas looks at Storis in confusion; this isn''t what he expected. He says, "Justified or not, I shouldn''t insult them behind their back."
"If I may ask," Storis begins. "Knowing that you were a village''s Blacksmith, I thought you would be more like us. Yet you talk and act like Sergeant Eirlys, like a noble."
"This isn''t really a question," Sylas says. His elocution has improved since he landed in Opal; perhaps this is what Storis means by talking like a noble. "My father took it to heart to teach me everything he could. Before turning thirteen, I could read, write, and count better than him. He taught me to be proper in all things, polite, and caring. It didn''t serve me well until now, but it feels right."
Sylas ponders on his own words. He changed a lot in the past month; having this conversation with a stranger would have been a lot harder then.
"So, you don''t despise them because you feel superior, but because they fail to live to your standards," Storis says.
Sylas swallows hard, unsure how to respond. "I am in no right to impose on them anything, and I shouldn''t. They are vastly different from me ¨C fearless and blunt. I don''t think we share values."
"You should," Storis says. "You don''t become a Warrior by leaving a happy and fulfilling childhood. Most of us can''t read; it''s a miracle if we can write or count, and you can tell us apart by the way we speak. Properly educating them would be useful to them for their entire life, whether they like it or not."
"I saw you write in your journal, and you speak more than well enough. Why did you say: us?" Sylas asks.
"I used to be like them," Storis begins. "Slacking and cussing like it was a second language, insulting my superiors behind their backs, peeking on my female comrades when they¡. I''m not proud of it, and I have Sergeant Eirlys'' father to thank for setting me straight. He made our whole squad into Corporals by turning us into proper men."
"I don''t think I would be popular if I started ordering push-ups for every insult I hear," Sylas quips.
Storis smiles lightly before returning to a stoic face. "You wouldn''t, but the cussing would stop in your presence. Except for a few knuckleheads; but if they are going to be dumb, it''s all the better if they get tough."
They continue in silence, placing themselves at the top of the formation. Soon, they reach the outskirts of a village edging the forest. Most of the buildings are behind a wooden palisade, with the exception of several orchards and apiaries.
A man wearing a simple gray linen shirt sees them from atop the palisade and opens the gates. Kids cross them, running after each other with wooden swords. Spongious dirt lines the streets, soaked with rainwater and mixed into mud by boots and hooves.If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.
A few people stop to watch them, a mix of curiosity and worry on their faces. Storis whispers, "We should begin with the mayor. Given the time, he should be at the tavern, sir."
"Have you been here before?" Sylas asks, walking in the direction Storis motions towards. The mayor must be an alcoholic from Storis to be certain of his location.
"Many times, sir" Storis says. He waves towards a meat stall as the woman working it welcomes him. "I train a fresh squad once or twice a year, and this region is one of the least dangerous in Amberfell, sir."
After ascending a path that exchanges the mud for paved stone, they reach the town''s center. The buildings are larger and more robust than the houses they passed. A few workhorses snort in a stable; a boy tends to them, filling their hay rack.
A stool flies through a window of the largest building, breaking against the ground. The new opening lets through the sounds of a brawl. Storis looks at Sylas, expectant.
Sylas moves to the door and opens it, his heart thumping as he expects objects to fly at him at any moment. The squad follows him, Storis at their head. A dozen clusters of fighters punch and throw each other while eight lie on the ground. There seem to be two factions. One wears oxblood-colored cloth in their armor, while the other seems composed of everyday workers.
A chair flies towards Sylas; he ducks low, avoiding it as it crashes on a pillar. A man spins and throws another, an everyday man. He stumbles towards Sylas, his back to him. Placing his hand on the man''s back, Sylas redirects him towards the squad.
A deep rumble rises from underground. The fight slows as its participants hear the sound and realize that a squad of guards entered. They move away from the bar, plastering themselves against the walls.
Sylas'' gaze falls on the tavern''s decoration. A six-legged monster with stone-like skin stands in the middle of the main path on an elevated platform. A crystalline claw-like blade, too massive for any man, hangs on a wall; its handle looks like a tooth''s root. Above the bar thrones a series of face-like iron masks. The bar''s shelves themselves shelter several pieces, from daggers to ogres'' skulls.
A mass of fur bursts through the cellar''s trap, sending it into the ceiling. It grabs a battle axe from the bar''s counter and vaults over it. Its hooves clack against the wooden floor as a minotaur lands in front of Sylas. "Who''s the fucker who started the fight?" he bellows. His voice is primal and guttural, clashing with his linen pants and shirt.
Despite fear knotting his stomach, Sylas stays stoic. In comparison to his men-at-arms, whose knees are clapping, he seems unphased. The beast scares him, but he doesn''t feel in danger like he was with the Skullgors. Gavriel''s spear clatters to the ground.
The brawlers look away, avoiding the minotaur''s gaze as he glances over them. He lowers his battleaxe, his posture shifting to seem more human. His large eyes move back to Sylas; he scans him from head to toe.
"Permission to speak, sir?" Storis asks. He moves beside Sylas, leaving the shaking squad behind.
"Granted," Sylas says with a questioning tone.
Storis walks past Sylas and says, "Mayor Karn, I present you, Sergeant Hartwell. With Sergeant Eirlys, they will oversee the formation of three squads, including this one, in the region."
"The old man got demoted? I want to hear how that happened," Karn says, calming down. He moves back to the bar, placing fallen chairs back on his path. "He could have come himself instead of sending a kid."
Storis precises, "Captain Eirlys passed away of old age a year ago; I am speaking of his daughter."
Karn stops, his gaze moving to the ground. "Already?" he asks. "It''s only been twelve years."
"Twelve years is a long time for us," Storis comments. He glances to the side where people are regrouping at tables. A few of them take care of the fallen, trying to bring them back with water and slaps. "I thought his family would have invited you to the funeral."
"The witch would never allow someone like me in her home," Karn mocks. He places his battle axe down and grabs a bottle from the shelves. "Hey kid. How is it you aren''t scared of me when the others are pissing themselves?"
Sylas looks back at the squad, confirming that it is merely an exaggeration. "You are scary. But I didn''t feel like you would attack me."
"That''s good instincts," Karn comments. He pours a large glass and drinks it in a single gulp. "But don''t rely too much on it; some people aren''t as direct as I am. Loren! Your men own me a window and all the chairs they broke!"
A man wearing the most decorated of their oxblood-dotted armor jumps from his chair, sending it to the ground. "We didn''t start this fight! Why would we have to pay for it?"
"I don''t know if you started this fight," Karn begins. He pours himself another glass. "But I know it started because of how your men behave. It''s your fault one way or another. And I won''t serve you another drink until you pay up."
Loren sits back down, giving up on arguing. Thinking of it, who are they? They don''t seem like city guards given that the man who watched over the palisade was in linen clothes. They seem too homogenous for adventurers. The logical conclusion is that they are mercenaries, but why would such a small town need them?
Sylas walks up to the bar. A worse conclusion crosses his mind: They could be deserters like those who took advantage of his village. "We''ll be staying nearby for a few weeks. Anything your town needs help with?" He motions with his eyes towards Loren as he asks.
"Nothing I cannot handle," Karn says. He shelves the bottle. "They are on a monster hunt to the east. The only problem is their manners."
"What are they hunting?" Sylas asks.
"Griffins!" Loren answers. He has a good perception to have heard Sylas'' question. "Doing the job guards like you cannot."
One of Storis¡¯ men bursts out from the ranks. He moves through the tables, staring at Loren. Storis roars, "Stand down, Jule!"
Storis¡¯ command freezes Jule mid-step. The young soldier''s fist clenches, trembling with restrained rage.
Loren smirks from his seat. He stands up, his hands behind his back, and approaches Jule. Loren looks like a giant in comparison to the boy, an easy feat when taking on a sixteen-year-old. "Your pup has a temper. Better beat him up, less he learns he can bark out of line."
Sylas steps forward, placing himself between Jule and Loren before Storis has the chance to intervene further. He fixes Loren with a calm but unyielding stare, his hands resting at his sides.
"Enough!" Karn roars, slamming his fist on the bar. "Get your men out of my tavern, Loren! Don''t come back until you calm down!"
Loren narrows his eyes, his smirk faltering. He glances at Karn and moves away from Sylas. Grabbing his coat, Loren nods towards the door, ordering his twenty men out.
Sylas turns his head to speak over his shoulder without letting Loren out of his sight. "Return to formation."
Jule hesitates, his trembling fist relaxing as Storis takes him by the shoulder. Sylas exhales, trying to calm his racing heart. Standing up to Loren seemed less scary when standing ten meters away.
"Leadership leveled up," the system announces.
"Impressive," Karn says, breaking the silence. Sylas finds him reading a gray window floating in front of him. "You play the role well for a Blacksmith. But I can see why they put you there; they must have quite the hopes for you."
Sylas doesn''t respond immediately. He keeps his focus on Loren, whose smirk returns, though less confident. As the last of them vanishes outside, Sylas turns back to Karn. "If your town truly doesn''t need our aid, then we''ll take our leave. But should that change, you can find us thirty minutes south."
Karn lets out a low laugh. "I hope we''ll not encounter a threat I cannot handle. It would be a terrifying thing for these kids."
Sylas gestures for the squad to follow as he heads for the exit. The motion feels awkward to him, unnatural. Despite that feeling, he hears them obeying without question.
Sylas glances down at the paved streets. Curious villagers look at them from a distance, and so does Loren''s group. They linger at the foot of a house sat on crates and barrels.
The aches in Sylas'' feet resurface. It worked out today, but he wonders how long that will last. What if the next Loren attacks him, starting a fight where someone will be wounded? Or killed? Sylas sighs; he hates that position. He only puts up with it because he doesn''t want to be a deserter; that''s not a life. But he would lie to himself if he said he didn''t think about it.
Chapter 112: N.E.S.T. – Part 2
"Well, that''s a lot."
"Not something you want to hear from a doctor," Ethan quips. He glances at the screen the man is looking at ¨C a long spreadsheet of blood components. "It''s up there with oops, and that''s new."
"In that case, it''s good. Everything is good," the doctor begins. "I don''t think I have ever seen anything like it. You have higher than possible oxygenation, and perfectly stable sugar levels. And weirdest of all, no radiation exposure or scar tissue. Which is highly conflicting with your files."
Ethan scans his torso, finding that the numerous cuts and bullet scars he had vanished. He remembers having some of them while in the labyrinth. They disappeared during his coma. "Anything more preoccupying?"
"You mean, beside the fact that your biology changed to such a degree, any problem you may have could be unknown to any doctors on earth?" He smirks as he finishes his quip. "Your metabolism slept for your entire coma. You should go easy on foods; keep to low-protein, low-fat, easy-to-digest stuff, and no alcohol. And drink some water."
"Will do," Ethan replies.
The doctor eyes him with a mixture of curiosity and suspicion. "You''re taking this remarkably well for someone who woke up with a completely overhauled biology. When did it happen? I''m sure you knew before she told you."
"What am I supposed to do? Cry about it?" Ethan shrugs, feigning nonchalance. He puts his hoodie back on. "When I got my strength past twenty, it didn''t make my muscles bigger. Ether appeared from nowhere and, I think, changed them. Maybe that''s the same thing for constitution."
"Maybe," the doctor prolongs. "I''d make you open your status if it didn''t have your real name. How high is your constitution? I need to get started on some data to try to understand."
"Thirty-two," Ethan answers.
"That''s a lot," the doctor comments.
"You are getting repetitive," Ethan mocks. He jumps down from the inclined chair. "If that''s everything, I still have two other checkups to go through."
Mr. Miy? opens the door to his laboratory. "A moment if you will mister Five. I have something for you."
Ethan turns to see a series of injectors on a laboratory bench, each a different color. He walks up to them, the aging Chinese man holding the door for him. He touches them and thinks, ''Identification.''
Potion of strength (E)
Enhances the user''s strength for a short period.
Potion of false death (E)
Slows the drinker''s body to an almost stop, making them seem dead while they retain consciousness.
Potion of night vision (E)
Grants the drinker the ability to see clearly in darkness.
"They are among the creations I obtained with my levels and the samples your men brought me," Mr. Miy? says. "But with the resources we have, they are the only ones I could make. Miss Tombstone said you should be the one to take them. I encourage you to report on their effects should you use them."
"Thank you," Ethan says. He takes them into his inventory. "Do you have a list of the ingredients you would need to make your potions? I might be able to find you some."
Mr. Miy? grabs his grimoire and opens it, flipping the pages for Ethan. There are over twenty potions listed in them, but some are variants of another ¨C a different way to make it or a higher rank. Mr. Miy? grabs a sheet of paper from a drawer. "Let me write them down in English for you."
Ethan probes his pants for his phone but remembers it''s in his Inventory. He feels embarrassed to have forgotten that fact when waking up. He summons it and takes pictures of the ingredients'' drawings before taking one of the translated lists.
"Do you like it here?" Ethan asks. Mr. Miy? recruitment must be a consequence of his reports to Tombstone. He knows little of the man besides his history as a practician before he immigrated to France. Somehow, he feels it could have been forced, knowing how advantageous having an Alchemist could be. "Do you have everything you need?"
"I''m allowed to do real work again, mister Five," Mr. Miy? says. He sits down on a stool and closes his grimoire. "Cops came to my shop; they asked for our status. I didn''t expect it then, but the day after we were arrested. The prosecutor threatened me with every crime they could, even more than what I did running my clinic. All to offer me a deal where no one from the restaurant would see prison if I worked for them."
Ethan sighs. Tombstone warned him at the time that countries were recruiting by force. "I guess that''s when you got a call."
"A cellmate handed me a phone; it was Ms. Tombstone. She offered to get everyone out; that she would give us new identities wherever we wanted. In exchange, I had to come to work here. But I''m free to take time off; I already did to go see my family in China. That was the first time in years; for that alone, it was worth it."
''Did she denounce him to save him later?'' Ethan ponders. He unsummons his phone and moves back to the door. "I''m glad for you. I will leave you to your work; I''m expected somewhere else."The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.
"Take care, mister Five," Miy? says.
Ethan places his hand against the armory''s tinted glass to see through. The man working the place, Tinker, is at the other window, the one for the official N.E.S.T. mercenaries. After a minute, the man notices Ethan and comes to his side.
"Yo, Five," he welcomes, his dreads flowing as his stool comes to a sudden stop. He stares at Ethan, a bit of anger in his eyes. "Long time no see. I hope you took care of my guns in Paris."
"A monster ate my HK, and one of my abilities broke the G28''s barrel," Ethan says.
"You know my deal. You broke one, you own me one," Tinker says. He grabs the handle of his window to close it back.
Ethan places his hand above the counter and summons all his guns and magazines. They clatter against each other, forming a sliding pile.
"Damn," Tinker bursts. He stops the Vepr12 from falling off the counter. "That one ability I''d like to have. How''s it called?"
"Inventory," Ethan answers.
"Fuck me, I would love to get my hands on it. Might need to convince them to send me to a few dungeons for it," he says. "The shotgun will be a nice addition. Glock 46?! Did you kill a cop?"
"No; plane hijacker," Ethan reassures.
"Sure," Tinker says. "Ok, ok, you got me back more guns that you took; all is good. So, what can I do for you?"
"Tombstone said you would be awaiting me. She talked about testing my capabilities," Ethan says.
"Mhh," Tinker lets out. He takes a sip of a white Monster as he disassembles the Glock. His eyes freeze as he realizes something. "Ho yeah, she called earlier. Wanted me to run you a target practice. There are some other guys in there already, so you''ll have to wait your turn."
"Sure," Ethan confirms.
Tinker propels his stool between the metal shelves of his armory and retrieves a tan rifle that looks close to an M4. He places it down on the counter along with magazines. "XM7. Got a batch while you were gone. The U.S. wanted something to pierce modern protections; turns out it''s good against monsters."
Ethan cycles the weapon before dryfiring at a wall. He grabs a magazine and slams into the well before chambering the first round.
"Don''t go that hard when reloading with an opened bolt," Tinker says. He grabs one of his own and shows the bolt stopping against the magazine, locking it open.
"That''s a huge flaw," Ethan says. "It will get soldiers who trained with the M4 killed. Do you have something else?"
"Sure," Tinker says. He takes the rifle and rolls back into his armory. Bringing back an HK417, he adds a Glock 17 and magazines for both weapons. "Better?"
"Definitely," Ethan answers. "Tombstone told me I should ask you about our new gear. The one made from Ether-infused metal."
"We got a few things," Tinker says. He takes ammunition from a drawer and places it down on the counter. "I made fifty bmg with it and some 7.62. It''s way harder than making plates with it cause you can''t smelt it. You have to forge it or the Ether vanishes."
"Can I get some?" Ethan asks.
"Plates? Sure. But for the ammo, that''s all I''ve left. Two cleared me out last week; said she had big game to kill."
"I''ll take you up on that once I''m done in there," Ethan says. As he moves towards the range''s door, Ethan checks and loads both weapons. Grabbing a pair of earplugs, he glances back at the tinted window. "Put the hardest settings."
"That''s what I was gonna do anyway," Tinker answers. He slides his window shut and rolls away.
Ethan enters the range to find firing lanes on his left and a killhouse to his right. The wood boards and concrete blocks building is lower than the rest, surrounded by walls, in case a round escapes it. Gunfire echoes from it. Through predator''s sight, he sees five people training inside.
Two guards, codename Gravekeepers, are firing rifles on the left. Both hit heads at fifty meters. One of them notices Ethan and places his gun down. "Finally awake? You scared us on the helicopter, sir."
"You were with the extraction team?" Ethan asks, placing himself in the adjacent booth.
"Both of us," the man answers. "I was at the Browning. The others are training below."
"Thank you for the help," Ethan says. He taps the remote on the booth''s side, making a target rise fifty meters away. He levels his rifle and fires a round; it hits to the right. Ethan takes a screwdriver from the booth''s wall and turns the Eotech''s horizontal dial.
"You aim well for someone who just got out of a coma," the second guard comments.
Ethan presses the remote, and the target vanishes, replaced by another at the alley''s end, two hundred meters away. He levels his gun and fires round after round, his finger moving almost as fast as the gun cycles. Months ago, he considered himself exceptional with guns; today it seems too easy. His enhanced perception lets him aim thoroughly between two shots. And his strength negates so much recoil it feels like a twenty-two long rifle.
Sparks fly off the target''s head as the only factor he doesn''t control is the gun''s dispersion. The target falls back down. Tinker''s voice appears through the booths'' speakers. "That''s enough boasting. Try to not hit any blue ones."
A dozen targets rise from the ground, moving laterally along rails. Ethan reloads, dropping the expanded magazine from the gun in an emergency maneuver. Rounds crack through the air as they slam into the red humanoid targets.
The targets start moving unpredictably, zigzagging while others pause before darting off again. A blue target pops up in his line of fire, and Ethan redirects to another target.
"Your reflexes are insane," the first guard comments.
Ethan doesn''t respond, his focus staying on the exercise. The twenty-first round leaves his barrel, leaving none for the last target. Ethan grabs the Glock and fires at it. The last target falls with a clang, and the range turns silent. He ejects both magazines and puts in new ones.
The speakers crackle to life. "That''s a perfect score, Five. And you broke your own time record on top of that."
"What about Two''s time?" Ethan asks.
"She still got you," Tinker says. "Made a new one a quarter of a second faster while you were out. She got the Gunslinger class; it helps a lot."
Five guards rise from the killhouse''s pit, their eyes falling on Ethan. Their leader swings his gun to his back and gives a salute. "Glad to see you okay, sir."
"You know you don''t have to call me sir or salute," Ethan comments. After refilling his magazines, he grabs a plate carrier from a locker and stores them in its holders.
"It feels natural," their leader comments. "Four would eat us up if we didn¡¯t do it."
"I''m sure he would," Ethan confirms. He grabs a pair of ballistic glasses and slides down the ladder leading to the killhouse. He sees the guards edging the pit to watch him. Turning to a camera, he asks, "Ready?"
Tinker''s voice comes through the speakers. "All right, Five. This is set to max difficulty. It''s not speed alone I''ll judge you on; don''t act reckless because it''s training."
A buzzer blares and Ethan surges forward. His perception allows him to anticipate the smallest movement ¨C shadows shifting, the faint hum of mechanisms, the soft creak of rising targets.
He enters the first room, rifle down as he passes the door. A target pops up from behind a mock couch. The first round hits center mass. Another target swings from the ceiling. Ethan pivots; it''s a drawn child; it holds an AK; Ethan fires on its hand.
Ethan swings wide at a door, engaging two red targets behind it. The second room is darker, with strobing lights disorienting his vision. A series of targets appear in quick succession: terrorist, terrorist, civilian, terrorist. He fires methodically, hitting the three enemy targets.
Ethan steps past a trip wire, the nylon glinting in the strobing light. A hostage target awaits him next; he strikes the enemy''s head, leaving the child drawing unscathed. On the left, three targets zoom along openings leading outside. Ethan fires at them, hitting two as they appear, and the last through the wall.
The floor collapses, its planks moved by mechanical arms. Having heard the mechanism, Ethan grabs the edge with one hand. Three targets await him below; he fires his gun one-handed, striking each of them in the chest.
The buzzer sounds again, signaling the end of the exercise. Tinker announces, "Fifteen point one. That''s the new best for the whole base, you fucker."
Chapter 113: N.E.S.T. – Part 3
On his way to the base''s dojos, Ethan mentally reviews his new gear. Tinker gave him a new plate carrier and four Ether-reinforced plates. For short range, Ethan got a suppressed .300 Blackout Honey Badger and the Glock. He took the HK417 for medium range and a suppressed AX50 sniper rifle for long range. Tinker laughed when Ethan asked for an anti-tank rocket launcher but still gave him a Panzerfaust 3 with five rockets.
He practices summoning the weapons, imprinting their image in his mind to reduce call time. The hardest, taking a second more, is the Honey Badger. It seems to Ethan that his unfamiliarity with the platform is to blame.
As he reaches the dojos, he succeeds in reducing the rifle''s summon time to that of his DMR. It makes him ponder if the people who can''t see objects with their minds are unable to use Inventory or haversacks. Does someone who didn''t train to imagine in detail need minutes to summon an item? He shakes his head to clear his thoughts as he nears the door.
Ethan looks through the one-way mirror door of the dojo, confirming that the instructor is alone. He opens it, entering the dojo at the edge of its mirror wall.
"You are late," the instructor says. He keeps his back turned to Ethan, his eyes on the opposite wall. He''s dressed in a blue kimono, with a black belt around his waist.
"How can I be late when I wasn''t given a specific time for our rendezvous?" Ethan retorts. He dodges as a training knife flies in his direction, bending out of its path.
"No excuses in my class," the man says. He turns around, revealing the face of an aging Caucasian man with short white hair and a beard. His black belt sports eight golden stripes alongside Japanese characters. He''s muscled for his age; his physique would rather paint him as forty years old. "You''ve never trained with me before, have you?"
"No," Ethan answers. "Four has overseen my training two decades ago."
"Your teacher is a remarkable fighter; I hope he made you one as well," the instructor says. He approaches, keeping perfect balance in his motion. "Show me what you learned."
Ethan casts a debilitating hex on himself, reducing his own strength to not kill the man. The instructor launches a front kick aimed at Ethan''s torso. Ethan pivots and deflects the kick with his forearm, countering with a low sweep at the man''s planted leg. The instructor moves out and then back in, avoiding the sweep.
The man sends a series of rapid jabs. Ethan counters with blocks and redirections, targeting joints. Seeing an opening, Ethan throws a punch at the instructor''s chin. It connects; the man rolls his entire body to absorb the shock, simultaneously trapping and twisting Ethan''s arm into a lock.
Ethan rolls with it, dropping low and twisting out of the hold. He sends a sharp knee towards the instructor''s ribs. The man absorbs the blow with his hand and counters with a sweeping leg kick, forcing Ethan to stagger back.
"Impressive adaptability," the instructor says. He transitions into a boxing stance, his feet dancing as he sends rapid-fire strikes. Ethan matches him, bobbing, weaving, and parrying the chain punches. The man praises, "Your reflexes are leagues above human capabilities."
The instructor shifts to unpredictable, acrobatic movements. His entire body twists and turns, creating a powerful momentum for leg kicks. Ethan adjusts, focusing on intercepting the instructor mid-motion.
The instructor sweeps towards Ethan''s legs. Ethan backflips to evade, delivering a spinning heel kick. The blow hits the instructor''s shoulder, dislocating it.
"Good," the instructor says. He stands up straight, signaling the end of their spar. Grabbing his arm, he slams his shoulder back in place. "I saw Krav Maga, Muay Thai, boxing, and Taekwondo in your style. Four taught you well."
"Unarmed Combat leveled up (x5)," the system announces.
"He taught me how to kill; the rest I learned in gyms around the world and from my opponents," Ethan says. He releases his hex to restore his strength.
"But I never told you to restrain yourself with your ability," the man reprimands. He rolls his shoulder, testing his muscles and tendons. "What made you think I couldn''t handle your full strength?"
''Is he serious, or is it ego?'' Ethan ponders.
Ether rushes into the man as he breathes in deep, abilities feeding it to his muscles and skin. He falls into a karate stance, ready to strike forward. He taunts, "Come at me with everything you have. I will not vouch for your return to active duty otherwise."
"Don¡¯t die," Ethan commands. He draws in Ether, draining the threads of the room and causing those outside to rush in in replacement. With Strengthening, he goes above his soft limits, tensing his clothes as he grows.
The instructor strikes first, his movements orders of magnitude faster. A powerful front kick shoots toward Ethan''s chest. Ethan vanishes before the blow connects, bending and lifting the tatamis as he moves behind the man.
Ethan loosens his body, melting away any tension. He shifts for One''s style, delivering a whip-like kick that uses the entire body. His shoe breaks the sound barrier before stopping a centimeter away from the instructor''s head. Ethan asks, "Satisfied?"
Only the man''s eyes had time to move before Ethan''s kick stopped. He relaxes his stance, straightening up as he silently admits his defeat. He comments, "This is a terrifying gap in strength and speed. How high are your characteristics?"
"Thirty-four, twenty-three, and thirty-two for strength, dexterity, and constitution," Ethan answers. "On top of that, I used an ability ¨C D-ranked Strengthening ¨C to boost my strength."
"This is indeed a sizable gap," the instructor mutters. "Then I can only help you with technique. I fear only One could be a proper sparring partner for you."
"I don''t know where he is at the moment; it has been some time since our last spar," Ethan says. He glances at the dulled blades held on one of the walls. "But there is something you could help me with. ¡I need to improve my swordsmanship. The other world''s weapons are medieval, and yet they are better than our guns to deal with powerful monsters."
The instructor approaches the blades and takes two long swords. He tosses one to Ethan, who catches it by the handle. It feels light in his grip, kilos under Phantom Reaver. He restores his hex, dulling his strength.
The instructor steps forward, the tip of his blade darting towards Ethan''s thigh. Ethan sidesteps and counters with a diagonal slash aimed at the instructor''s shoulder. The older man deflects with a circular motion, redirecting Ethan''s blade to the side while stepping inside his guard.
Ethan disengages, stepping out of reach. He retaliates with a rapid series of thrusts. The instructor deflects each one, his blade moving slower but with fluidity.
"Good," the instructor says. He moves away from Ethan, creating a large gap between them. "It''s evident that you are self-taught. You must have used swords quite a lot in recent months. But there is something that feels wrong. You do not see your blade as an extension of your own body. You''re too stiff and controlling with it, and as a result it lacks fluidity."Find this and other great novels on the author''s preferred platform. Support original creators!
"One of my opponents said something along the lines," Ethan says. He spins his blade, trying to relax as he does with One''s style. It feels unnatural, as if the blade threatened to slip away at any moment.
The instructor moves to the wall of weapons. He places his longsword back and grabs a katana. "Four once told me of your style ¨C violent and instinctive. It''s clear you became more level-headed with the years. I think I know a peculiar sword style you could learn from."
"Japanese, I guess," Ethan says. He waits for it but hears no announcements from the system.
"I learned it from a previous One, a descendant of a long line of swordsmen, dating back centuries," the instructor says. "It holds violence as the end goal, to overwhelm and terrify the enemy."
The instructor grips the katana with practiced ease. He falls into a warrior stance, his eyes falling on Ethan as his breathing slows. "This style is not bound by tradition or honor. It''s a style born to dominate. Watch closely."
Ethan falls into the same stance. The instructor strikes. It''s instantaneous ¨C a forward dash so fast Ethan barely answers. Ethan moves back; he counters with a lateral slash aimed to disarm. The instructor sidesteps with a minimal shift, twisting to deliver a retaliatory diagonal slash. The two blades clash, the katana''s arc breaking Ethan''s guard.
"You hesitate," the instructor remarks. He comes back with an upward slash, narrowly missing Ethan''s eye. "This style demands commitment in every motion. A half-hearted, controlling slash is the same as forfeiting your life."
Ethan grits his teeth. His body reacts to the instructor''s bloodlust, beckoning Ethan to give in to the thrill of battle. Ethan deflects one of the instructor''s strikes and counters with a thrust at the abdomen. The old man twists his body, evading, and retaliates with a spinning slash aimed at Ethan''s flank.
The dulled katana crashes into Ethan''s rib. They break and restore their stances for another round. Ethan inhales deeply, centering himself. The thrill of combat pulses through his veins. His lips curl into a faint grin, the enjoyment of a genuine challenge overtaking him. He adjusts his grip, the long sword feeling lighter and more connected to his body as he gives in to the thrill.
Ethan steps forward with a downward slash. It is simple, and yet the instructor leaps back. The man comments, "Good. You stopped holding back; this blow was perfect in its execution. What''s left is perfecting your technique. You must outplay your opponent three strikes in advance; leave him only one way to answer your overwhelming strikes."
The instructor comes back to Ethan. The clash intensifies. Their strikes grow faster, Ethan''s movements smoother, each blow flowing into the next. The instructor meets him blow by blow, his blade moving in precise arcs. Ethan''s technique improves, soon matching the instructor''s impeccable moves.
They break, the instructor dripping with steaming sweat. Ethan''s clothes stick to him, equally drenched as his debilitating hex takes a toll.
"Melee Weapon (Long Sword) leveled up (x5)," the system announces. "You leveled up."
''Did I continue amassing experience despite being locked by my skill level?'' Ethan ponders. He lowers his sword as a gray window pops up in front of him.
Skill ascension: Melee Weapon (Long Sword)
You reached the highest possible level of this skill. You may ascend it to unlock new heights your body and mind aren''t yet capable of.
Because of your talent (Shared martial skill ascension), the following skills will be ascended:
Melee Weapon (long sword)
Melee Weapon (short sword)
Melee Weapon (great sword)
Melee Weapon (saber)
Do you want to ascend: Melee Weapon (Long Sword) ?
YES NO
"What is this?" the instructor asks.
"It says I can ascend my swordsmanship because I reached level a hundred with the longsword. I guess you didn''t see it yet," Ethan says.
"Level ninety-nine; maybe soon," the instructor says.
''There doesn''t seem to be a cost to it,'' Ethan thinks. ''But why would it ask me if there wasn''t? Is there a limit to the number of skills I can ascend?''
"Are you going to try it?" the instructor asks.
''Even if there is a limit, I should strive to perfect my swordsmanship. If Caelum is anything like Aranthor, that''s how I''ll end up fighting him.'' Ethan presses the ''YES'' button and the window vanishes.
"You obtained the Ascended skill ¨C Melee weapon (long sword) title. You obtained the Ascended skill ¨C Melee weapon (short sword) title. You obtained the Ascended skill ¨C Melee weapon (great sword) title. You obtained the Ascended skill ¨C Melee weapon (saber) title. Four characteristic points have been granted."
"How does it feel?" the instructor asks.
"I gained a characteristic point for each ascended skill," Ethan says. He holds his blade in front of him, eager to try it out. "Ready?"
The instructor comes at him with a downward slash. Ethan doesn''t respond, his mind going blank as he tries to think of a counter. His sword falls to the ground, and the katana strikes him on the head.
"Adding the Ascended - Melee Weapon (Long sword) skill. Based on your previous experience a level of 0 has been applied."
"I get to mold your swordsmanship back from scraps," the instructor quips. He breaks away and falls back into his warrior stance. "I''d say that''s a blessing in disguise."
Ethan slips out of the gym''s shower. They trained for eight hours and brought back his long sword level to sixty. But, both exhausted, they were unable to raise it above that. The instructor was offered to ascend, but he refused. He will wait to train another in all his techniques, so he may learn them back once he loses his knowledge.
The gym is almost empty; only one Gravekeeper is present, benching three hundred kilos. An overhead clock shows midnight. Ethan wonders how much he could lift at maximum strength, but he feels too drained to try. Besides, he doubts even Olympic barbell bars could handle the weight.
Dressed in clean gym clothes, he steps outside into the base''s secret corridors. Like the gym, they are devoid of activity. He passes a checkpoint to the administrative sector and taps on the control room''s door.
"Enter," a woman answers through an interphone. Ethan pushes the door to find Cypher looking up at him from behind her screens. He remembered her as older looking. She nears her sixties as her graying hair shows, and yet her face makes her look two decades younger.
Tombstone is at her own desk, sleeping before her locked six screens. Her back rises slightly as she breathes.
"She had a lot of sleep to catch up on," Cypher says. Even her voice sounds younger than Ethan remembers. She grabs a steaming cup of coffee from her desk to take a sip; it bears an obscure coding joke. "She didn''t rest much these past weeks."
"Something to cover up?" Ethan asks.
Cypher rolls her eyes and lets out a sigh. "What are you, dense? She was worried about you."
"I''ve been in the hospital eight times, three of which I was in a coma for, one longer than this one," Ethan whispers. He grabs Tombstone''s coat and places it over her to keep her warm. "I thought she would be used to it by now."
"Maybe if you come back to life a few more times," Cypher says. She tilts her head and mimics Tombstone''s voice. "Ethan is in a coma? That''s nothing. Don''t bother me unless he''s dead."
"You seem energetic today," Ethan comments. He steps away from Tombstone, using Silent steps to not wake her up.
"Constitution and charisma make you look and feel younger," Cypher says. She refills her cup from a brewer installed at the corner of her desk. "I can finally drink coffee all day and night without my heart freaking out."
"That''s good, ¡I guess," Ethan mutters. He leans on the door of a server rack beside her. "I wanted to ask her if we had clothes to blend in with the other world. I need to go back."
"Same place as the dyes, masks, and costumes," Cypher says. She takes another sip from her cup. "But you would have tried that already if it wasn''t an excuse to come see her."
"You are reading too much into it, Cypher," Ethan says. That woman is always messing with someone about their emotional life. Ethan dodged her for months once she learned of Kate and him. The casual nature of their relationship somehow gave her the goal to puppeteer their love lives. "I wanted to say goodbye; I''ll be leaving for some time."
"Contracts are piling up," Cypher comments. She displays a long list of target packages on a screen. "With only One, Two, and Three for the most dangerous missions and the flood of new targets, we are getting short-staffed."
"I may be retiring after that journey; you''ll be able to name another Reaper," Ethan retorts. "Maybe you should name another one anyway if there is so many contracts."
"Do you have the slightest idea how much work it is to cover up for one of you?" Cypher asks. She closes down the target packages and turns towards him. "I hope you get him. Twenty years is a long time."
"So long I almost gave up on it," Ethan says. He moves away from Cypher''s desk and approaches Tombstone''s. Sliding off his own ring of protection, he places it down on the desk. "Tell her I said goodbye. I don''t know when I''ll be able to come back, but I''ll try to keep her updated."
"I will," Cypher says. "Now shoo; fuck off to the other world; I have work to do."
Sylas – Chapter 6: Authority
"Is there someone else we need to see?" Sylas asks Storis.
"The few men forming the local militia. And we have to grab a few provisions, sir," he answers.
"I wasn''t expecting to spend coins," Sylas says. Liliana could have warned and funded him.
"It''s a gift the villagers make when they can expand it," he explains. He motions towards the meat stall they passed earlier. "It''s their way to thank us for our presence. Besides paying their taxes."
"Good," Sylas says. He''s relieved that his meager funds won''t need to diminish. As they exit the town''s center, Sylas'' gaze falls on an abandoned smithy. Flowers rot at its feet ¨C a sign that someone died days ago.
"I''ve seen flowers on another building, a tailor I think," Storis says.
"Where?" Sylas asks.
"On the right when we entered town," Storis answers. "That must have hurt them. I don''t think they can replace them without newcomers from other cities."
Sylas looks up to guess the time and finds the sun still has a few hours left. He spots a dirty child hanging out on a crate beside the smithy, eating molding bread. "Go inform the militia of our presence. I think I should find out more, in case there is something bigger going on."
"Yes, sir," Storis confirms. He motions for the squad to follow him; they leave for the lower town.
Sylas approaches the smithy, trying to look through its windows. The kid glances at him before returning to his meal. This bread is chewy and green; nothing a kid should eat.
"Do you know what happened here?" Sylas asks.
The kid descends from his crate; he tucks his bread into his pants, taking a step back from Sylas. "No, sir; please don''t hurt me."
"You don''t need to be scared," Sylas says. He never expected anyone to feel threatened by him. Yet, this kid seems ready to run away. Sylas slides his hand into one of his pouches and takes out a chunk of flatbread. "Here, eat that instead."
The kid approaches like a scared cat and snatches the bread away. He inhales it; how starved is he? The kid lowers the small chunk left in his hands. He says, "Someone robbed my brother. They said he tried to fight them, but they killed him."
It seems unlikely for Sylas that such an event would be common in this small town. His village, though smaller, had petty thefts, but not one was outright murdered in the last twenty years. Unable to bear the pitiful sight, Sylas unwillingly lowers his gaze. He asks, "Do you mind if I take a look?"
"No," the kid says. He hands Sylas a rusting key. "But don''t take anything."
"I won''t," Sylas affirms. Having the key may mean he''s his family''s sole survivor and heir. He looks around ten, too young to have received his class. He has a smithy, but being able to work it and make a living is another matter.
Sylas unlocks the smithy''s door and enters to find it in disarray. Tools lie scattered across the floor: hammer, tongs, and chisels. Shards of broken pottery crunch beneath Sylas'' boots. A large workbench is overturned. The shelves are bare. A broken lantern dangles from the ceiling''s beams. An open staircase in a corner leads to the attic. Sylas sees two beds and rummaged-through chests in a corner.
The light from the windows highlights dark stains on the floor ¨C dried blood, leading towards the door. Sylas tries to trace the signs of the fight but finds himself overwhelmed by the amount of gouges in the walls and wooden beams. He''s unable to guess what are the marks of the fight and what is simply wear and tear.
Sylas crouches to examine the bloodstains. He spots ores lying in small crates under the forge''s stone counter. One holds a few chunks of gold, not much but enough to make a dozen coins. He stares at it, wondering why it wasn''t stolen; did they fail to spot it despite the glow it gives? Maybe they came at night, when no light would have made it evident.
Sylas turns his head towards the door; he hears the kid muttering to himself outside. Standing up, he grabs a crucible from the ground and places it in the forge. He replaces the workbench and cleans the ground, grabbing and hanging the tools one by one. The place cleared, he takes a flint lighter and uses it to set ablaze the forge''s coal. Sylas grabs the gold ore and smashes the stone away with a hammer and chisel. He tosses the fragments into the crucible, watching as the metal softens.
Using a small crate, sand, and dirt, Sylas prepares a makeshift mold. He packs it tightly to avoid damage when pouring the heavy liquid. Sylas presses one of his own coins into it to form imprints. The edges are rough, but the one-faced pattern is clear.
As the gold liquefies, it forms a layer of slag at the top. Sylas scoops out the impurities with a ladle, pouring it into another crucible. He grabs the crucible and pours out the smelted gold into the imprints. As it solidifies, Sylas keeps an eye on the boy, who has taken a spot on a barrel.
Sylas'' stomach knots as he realizes he''s forging coins as a guard. He looks back up at the starved boy, and his aches loosen. It may be unlawful, but it feels right. The ten coins before him slowly turn back from red to gold.
"Heat resistance," Sylas mutters. When the coins are cool enough for him to handle, he pries one from the mold. It''s crude but serviceable. He polishes it on a grinding wheel, melting away the material peering from the edge. Using a metal brush, he cleans off the dirt and sand that stuck to it.
"Aye!" the kid screams. He drops a coin to the ground.
"They''re still hot," Sylas warns, too late. He tosses his finished coin into a bucket of water, creating bubbling steam. He grabs the coin from the ground and steps on the loose straw strand it burned. He moves back to the wheel, repeating the process. "I''m using an ability to handle them."
"That hurts," the kid mumbles, his fingers in his mouth.
"Metal can be hot without looking hot," Sylas says. He finishes the last coin and brings it into the windows'' light for inspection. "What''s your name, by the way?"
"Oryn," the kid answers.
Sylas takes a chunk of leather and knits it into a small pouch with a long leather strand and a knife. He places the coins in it and shakes the pouch, creating impact marks the coins would have normally suffered.
"Forgery leveled up (x3)," the system announces.
"Here you go," Sylas says, handing the pouch to the kid. He watches as Oryn takes out a coin, observing it.
"They look real," the kid comments.
"They are real," Sylas retorts. He tosses him one of his own coins. "They have the same amount of gold in them as any other coin. The only difference is that they are molded when mine is probably stamped."
The kid holds the two side by side, scanning them, weighing them, and placing them on top of each other to check size and thickness. "Could fool me."
"A lot of towns make their own coins one way or another. Even bandits do," Sylas informs. He made more than a few silver coins with his father in the harsher months after exceptional taxes. "It''s not a problem because it doesn''t outpace the kingdoms'' production, or so I was told. The ones who get in trouble are those who try to make them cheap, mixing gold, silver, or copper with other, cheaper things."
"Can I keep them?" the kid asks, handing back Sylas'' coin.
"They are yours; your brother had that gold in his crates," Sylas says. He motions towards the ores. Looking at the kid holding them, he realizes how suspicious it would be for him to own gold coins. "I''ll exchange them for silver; people would ask questions if they saw you with them."
The kid recoils, bringing the coins to his chest.
Sylas stands up straight and detaches his sword''s sheath. He places it against the anvil. "I''ll leave my sword with you until I come back with the silver coins. It''s worth more than you hold; are you okay with that?"
The kid nods and holds the pouch in front of him. Sylas takes it and leaves the smithy, walking back towards the town''s center. He exchanges some of the coins for his own.
Sylas returns to the tavern. He approaches the bar, where a middle-aged barmaid replaced the mayor. She looks at him as he leans against the counter, wiping mugs with an aging cloth.
"Welcome back," she says with a smile. "What can I get for you?"
"I need to exchange coins and a few pieces of information if you are so inclined," Sylas says. He places ten gold coins on the counter.
"Sure," she says. She places down her mug on the counter and her rag on her shoulder. Grabbing a locked box from the shelves, she opens it to reveal rows of coins of all types. There are even three platinum coins in a corner and a ruby. "What do you want to know, mister guard?"
"Sylas. I learn a robbery turned for the worse at the smithy. I was wondering how crime is here."
She sighs as she takes his gold coins and weighs them in her hand. "Petty theft and fights were always a problem. But that was a lot worse than anything else in my time here. This winter will be harsh on us, so it may get worse, but the city has money. We''ll be able to feed and warm everyone with imports."
"Do you know if Oryn, the smithy''s kid, has family elsewhere?" Sylas asks.
"His mother died in labor, and his father from an illness a few years back. He only had his brother since then," the barmaid answers. She makes ten silver coin piles, ten coins each, to count them. "Karn gave him clothes, food, and money after the robbery. I hope he''s doing well; I can''t imagine how he must feel."
How much did the mayor give Oryn? He seems like he has been living in absolute poverty for the past weeks. "That''s generous of him. But the boy seems to have nothing left; couldn''t someone shelter him until he grows up?"
"That can''t be right," the barmaid comments. "He gave him plenty enough; it should have lasted him the year. And I don''t see him gambling it away. Besides a few, people are not doing as well as you may think. I don''t know one family who could feed another mouth, especially with winter coming."
It seems to be a common fact. Sylas'' village was the same; most people struggled to feed, clothe, and warm a family of four. He places the coins in the pouch as she slides them towards him. He gives her one of his gold coins and adds, "Thank you."The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.
Sylas exits the tavern and walks back towards the smithy. Someone must have stolen from Oryn. Seeing the sun''s position, he might not have the time to investigate it. At least he decides to warn the militia, and by extension, the mayor.
"What else did he give you?!" a young voice demands. Sylas enters the smithy to see a boy, likely fourteen, holding Oryn by the clothes. Another of the same age, but scrawnier, tries to lift Sylas'' sword from the ground.
Sylas steps forward, his shadows looming over the scene. The boy gripping Oryn freezes, his head snapping up to meet Sylas'' gaze. The other boy drops the sword with a clatter. He backs towards a window, glancing at his companion.
The first boy shoves Oryn away. He bolts towards another window as the second kid breaks into a run for his. Sylas kicks a crate towards the first, sweeping his feet and sending him to the ground. Sylas grabs a rope and whips at the second, grabbing his foot as it curls around it. Dragged back, the kid slams on the ground and scrapes against it until Sylas brings it to him.
"Ranged Weapon (Improvised) leveled up. Melee Weapon (Improvised) leveled up."
"Let us go!" the first kid cries. Still on the ground, he kicks Sylas in the calf to no avail.
Sylas grabs both by the shirt and lifts them to their feet before tying them with the rope. He pushes them to get them moving and sits them beside the dying forge.
"Are you alright?" Sylas asks. Oryn is rubbing the back of his head where he hit the wall. He cried, as shown by his red eyes, but seems to have calmed down. "Besides these two, are there others stealing from you?"
Oryn shakes his head to mean no.
"I''ll make sure they won''t bother you again," Sylas whispers. Crouching to Oryn''s level, he hands Oryn the pouch of silver coins. "Hide them; use a few at a time to buy food, clothes, and wood to heat the forge up in winter. I''ll make some time to come teach you how to light it up."
"Thank you," Oryn mutters. He hugs Sylas. It feels strange, not because of Oryn''s feebleness, but because Sylas can''t remember the last time anyone hugged him.
Sylas pats the kid on the back and breaks away from the hug. He stands back up and reattaches his sword to his belt. He lifts the two thieves to their feet and pushes them outside.
Asking for directions under the curious, suspicious eyes of bystanders, he finds where his squad went. He sees them as he reaches the militia''s small building, a house refitted for their operation. An archery practice target lies to the side alongside aging spears on a rack. The overhanging roof covers them, but they need to be repaired and maintained; their heads rust, and their shafts are cracked.
"What are you doing with my son?!" a man bellows from inside the building. He storms out, but Storis, who was waiting on the side with the squad, places himself in his path.
"Calm down," Storis commands. "I''m sure there is a reason why he''s held."
"Theft, racketeering, evading, and resisting arrest," Sylas says, quoting the laws he learned on the journey. He approaches from the forming group of guards and militia members. "These two stole the mayor''s gift to an orphan, and I caught them in the act of coming back for more."
The father tries to push Storis aside to reach Sylas, but the guard resists and pushes him back. Storis threatens, "Calm down. Don''t make it worse."
"How do I know he ain''t making things up?!" the father demands. He paces in front of Storis, boiling with anger.
"Anyone could tell how guilty they are by looking at their faces!" Storis retorts. He grabs them by the rope. "Do you know what happens to adults who commit these crimes?! You are lucky Sergeant Hartwell deemed it right to arrest them."
Sylas feels a cold touch on his neck. What do guards do with children caught stealing? He swallows hard as his mind drifts to horrors he doesn''t want to think about.
"What''s going to happen?" the father asks, fuming. His eyes dart to his son, his anger shifting target.
"They get to spend some time in your jail," Storis says. He glances back at Sylas, who confirms with a nod. "A month."
"No, please!" the smallest kid says. "He''s the one who wanted to do it."
"Shut up!" the father of the other kid bellows.
"Unless, of course, they tell us where they hid what they stole," Sylas says. He looks at Storis, who concurs with a nod.
"We hid it behind his house!" the smallest kid says, nodding towards his conspirator. "In the empty chicken coop."
The leader of the duo breaks out from the rope and punches the other one. It sends the smaller kid to the ground. His opponent jumps on him, punching him in the face. "You stupid fuck; you just had to keep your mouth shut, and we''d still have the money!"
Storis kicks him in the chest, sending him rolling to the ground two meters away. Jule and Gavriel restrain the assaulting kid before he can stand up. The other stays on the ground, rolling in pain with his hand on his struck eye.
Sylas motions for three guards to approach. "Get his father to show you where their coop is and bring back their stash."
"Yes, sir," they say in unison. Before Sylas can absorb how weird that felt, they leave with the man. He turns to Gavriel and Jule. "Put him in a cell. The rest, find the kid a healer, and then put him in another cell."
"Leadership leveled up," the system announces.
"A month for this one," Storis commands the militia members, motioning at the aggressor. He approaches from Sylas. "And as for the other one, I think a week will do. We''ll be checking."
"I didn''t expect to play guard so soon," Sylas whispers.
"You did well," Storis comments. He glances at the guards as they split in different directions. "I never saw the town in such a state."
"Did something happen while I was gone?" Sylas asks.
"There won''t be extra provision for us this time, sir. They had a leak in their grain; it rotted a lot of their reserves," Storis announces. He looks uncomfortable, his eyes darting to the sides to check everywhere. "Strange thing for it to happen around the same time as the three deaths."
"Three?" Sylas asks.
"I talked to a few villagers. Their alchemist fell from his shelf ladder a day before the smithy robbery. He hit his neck on his workbench," Storis answers. "And I confirmed that the leather worker who''s supposed to have died of old age was their Armorer."
"They lost their Blacksmith, Armorer, Alchemist, and food at the same time?" Sylas asks. It all seems too suspicious, as if someone were trying to weaken them. "The mayor did insist that there wasn''t anything going on he couldn''t handle."
"Karn would think of a Wyvern attacking his town as an entertaining fight, sir," Storis begins. "But he wouldn''t notice anything more subtle."
"When did Loren arrive in town?" Sylas asks.
"A week ago, sir," Storis answers. "I had the same suspicion and asked around. His men are¡ insistent with the women. But so far, they''ve not been caught robbing, stealing, or worse. Besides, they do what they say; they''ve hunted down two griffins so far.
Sylas looks at the nearly setting sun. "Is there anything more we can do for now?"
"If we don''t return to camp, they''ll come here searching for us, sir. There is no need to create a panic so soon," Storis says. He smiles briefly as he sees the first group of guards coming back with a bag. "I advise we discuss what we discovered with sergeant Eirlys and keep monitoring the situation."
Sylas nods. The guards coming back from their tasks, they regroup and make their way back towards the camp. Storis'' inexpressive demeanor seems more troubled than before. He walks at the end of the formation with Sylas, both watching for anyone following them.
As they reach the camp, guided by its central fire, they see the tents mounted. Three guards are digging latrines at the edge, hidden behind bushes and rocks. Two others are setting up a cooking stove with rocks. Walf is skinning a gutted deer, its offal in a bowl beside him. Hawryn sits on a tree branch, his gaze towards the town.
Hawryn glances towards Storis. "You are late."
"The sun is still up," Storis retorts.
"She ordered to be back before dusk, not at dusk," Hawryn says.
Sylas continues to scan the camp; he feels like there are too few of them. "Is everyone here?" he asks.
"Three of mine are grabbing wood for the fire," Hawryn says. He leaps down from his branch to land before them. "Sergeant Eirlys left camp half an hour ago."
"Why?" Sylas asks
Storis whispers, "There are hot springs to the west, near the mountain top."
"If I may ask, sir, why do both of you seem so¡ worried?" Hawryn asks.
Storis looks around to ensure they are not heard by someone else. "Three people died in Balmwood recently: their smith, Armorer, and Alchemist. And their reserve of grain rotted away. Let''s say we feel like it isn''t bad luck."
"I see," Hawryn says. "We should be careful; I''ll go check on my men. Sergeant, you should warn Sergeant Eirlys. She shouldn¡¯t be alone outside in these circumstances."
"I''ll go with you," Storis says, turning towards Sylas. "You shouldn''t be outside alone either."
Sylas'' heart races. Why is he the one who needs to risk getting murdered if she thinks he tried to get an eyeful? He grits his teeth, trying to get a hold of himself. He lies, "I am exhausted; can''t Walf go with you?"
"You are the only one she cannot demote on a misunderstanding," Stories counters. "Besides, he''s covered in blood and guts; I''ve known stealthier."
Sylas gives up on arguing. He motions Storis to get walking. "Lead the way; I don''t know where these hot springs are."
Storis guides him up the mountain. The peak isn''t far from their camp, but the terrain is treacherous, covered with sharp rocks and slick moss.
A twig snaps on their right, somewhere lower to the north. Storis motions for Sylas to stop. He hefts his spear and says, "Continue; you are almost there. I''ll go check what that was."
Sylas reaches a plateau where the harsh landscape transitions to a forest. He spots three figures crouching in the bushes, their spears left on the ground.
Anger replaces Sylas'' apprehension and fear. He moves towards them in a wide arc, using the trees and rocks to remain undetected. As he nears them he hears water flowing, a feminine whistling, and muttering.
"Stealth leveled up."
Sylas slows his pace, steadying his breath as he edges closer to the three crouching guards. He lowers himself behind a boulder, close enough now to overhear their hushed conversation.
"You look, we can''t try all at once, or she will spot us," one commands with a whisper.
"No," another hisses back. "We wait until she comes back out; we won''t see anything if she''s in the water."
Sylas'' fury boils over; he''s not entirely sure why. He steps out from his cover, his shadow falling over them. "I''d think twice about that," Sylas growls.
The boys freeze, their heads snapping up to meet Sylas'' gaze. The first boy scrambles for his spear, but Sylas'' boot crashes down on it.
The second boy stumbles backward, his hands raised. "W¡ We were just ¨C"
"Just what?" Sylas snarls.
The second boy looks to the side, his eyes falling on a thorn bush. He pries a berry from it and holds it before himself. "Just picking fruits for tonight."
The third boy, the youngest of the group, drops to his knees, shaking. "We weren''t going to do anything serious, sir. Please."
Sylas steps forward, looming over the trio. "You''ll return to camp now. I''ll be right with you for your punishment."
The three scramble to their feet, taking their spears as they bolt down the mountain. Sylas watches them retreat, his back towards the hot springs.
The sound of water shifting appears behind him. Liliana asks, "Did you take a look?"
"No," Sylas answers.
"Then why did you come here?" Liliana asks. "Surely, you didn''t climb all this way without thinking of an excuse."
"Concerning things that happened in town. Their artisans ¨C Blacksmith, Armorer, and Alchemist ¨C all died around the same time their food reserves rotted away. Storis and Hawryn thought it unwise for any of us to be alone."
"And yet you are alone," Liliana says from further away. He hears her getting out of the water at the edge of the hot spring.
"Storis is right behind me, checking a suspicious sound," Sylas explains. He stops himself from glancing, closing his eyes as safety from himself.
"I hear him chewing them out," Liliana says. Sylas tries to focus on it but finds himself unable to hear him. Her perception must be higher than his. But shouldn''t she have spotted them if it was the case? "Thank you. ¡What punishment are you thinking of?"
"I''m still imagining," Sylas says, his anger not wavering. Not being able to explain why he''s angry bothers him, but it feels right. "Storis told me I should set them straight. I think I''ll start with them."
Liliana beside him, Sylas reaches the camp. The three voyeurs sit next to the fire, sweating and looking nervous. Sylas motions towards the soldiers digging at the camp''s edge. "You three, give them your shovels. They will be on latrine duty until I decide otherwise."
They exit the holes they were digging behind the bushes. They plant their tools in front of the whitening culprits. One of them asks, "Who takes their duties? I''ll gladly pick up firewood, sir."
"Free quarters for you three tonight; I didn''t say they were relieved of their previous duties," Sylas says. The soldier smirks and leaves without another word.
The three young men stare at Sylas, their faces etched with despair. Sweat drips down as they realize the extent of the consequences they brought upon themselves.
The youngest dares to speak up. "Sir, we didn''t mean ¨C"
"Silence!" Sylas snaps. "You disrespected your superior. You showed yourselves as no better than animals, unable to resist your urges. You will learn to, one punishment at a time."
Liliana watches from the side, amused.
The trio hesitates before picking up the shovels, their shoulders slumping as they trudge towards the latrine trench.
As the hours drag on, Sylas stands watch, arms crossed, ensuring they don''t slack. Each time one of them falters or slows, he barks at them, driving them back to work. Strangely, despite the hours, he only hears the system once to raise his leadership. The other soldiers gather around the fire, exchanging glances.
Storis approaches, leaning in close. "Sir, you are pushing them too hard. They are young. If they collapse or get wounded, it will slow our work here. You could continue tomorrow."
Sylas considers for a moment before stepping forward. The three diggers look up, panting, their hands blistered and trembling. "Enough," Sylas says. "Drop the shovels."
The boys stagger back, collapsing against the trench walls, their faces pale. They sniff the air, noticing the aroma of the stew Liliana made. The trio climbs out and walks to the stove where she stands.
"There is nothing left for you tonight," Liliana says. She tilts the pot to show it''s empty. "You should see if you can find some berries in the bushes. Don''t forget you still have to find us more wood."
Chapter 114: Return
Ethan enters an old cavern he once used as shelter when Lucian wanted to train his winter survival skills. It is kilometers away from N.E.S.T.''s base, hidden in a dense pine forest devoid of manmade paths. If someone else can use the tunnel he will create between the worlds, he''d rather have them appear away from the base.
Russ swallows the second half of the rabbit he caught before licking his bloodied lips. Instinctively, he lay down at the cave''s entrance, watching for anything approaching. With his heightened perception, he may very well have sensed the wolves that inhabit this region.
Summoning the Anchorstone, Ethan moves to the center of the cavern where a depression forms a shallow pit. He looks at the blue crystal and the steel cage that encompasses it. Not seeing any sigil on the steel, he focuses on the crystal and sees Aetherian symbols floating in it. It is as if they were cut into the crystal, forming extensive, three-dimensional arrays.
Anchorstone
Infusing this crystal with Ether will create a teleportation circle that can be used to move to and from a Waystone. Infusing Ether into the teleportation circle will retrieve the Anchorstone. The teleportation circle only makes itself visible in its creator''s presence.
''It would be useful to hoard a few more. I could set them up around the worlds; avoid being tracked and checked,'' Ethan thinks. He injects Ether into the stone. It levitates out of his hand and floats towards the pit''s center. In a flash of vertical blue light, it turns into eccentric circles of Aetherian sigils. They rotate at different speeds, levitating a millimeter above ground.
Curious, Ethan begins to read one of the circles. ''Waystones are hereby defined as points of spatial anchorage to which the user is attu ¨C'' He stops as a spark crackles on the circle''s surface. ''Sounds like a contract. If I have the time, I should use Kingsreach''s academy to learn more about magic.''
''Shadow,'' Ethan commands, not wanting the guild to see Russ'' new appearance. As the dog vanishes, Ethan steps on the crystal and thinks of Opal City''s Waystone. A flash of light takes him, and a second later he hears Aldorian chatters.
Heads turn towards Ethan as the Waystone''s guard steps away from his path. The guard''s eyes narrow as Ethan descends the steps leading to the stone. He looks up, most likely confused as to why Ethan grew up.
"You have to tell me who your tailor is," Alara says. She takes a sip of coffee from her cup. Ethan''s heightened perception tells him it''s more pungent than the one he''s used to, like a Turkish coffee. She lowers her cup and scans his clothes. He wears a loose, dark-crimson, long-sleeved shirt with laces on the collar. His dark linen pants hide parts of his boots; they are made to look like plain leather but hide all the modern comfort they can.
"It was a gift," Ethan lies. He approaches her counter, shrugging his shoulders. Alara''s dress is leagues above his clothes ¨C a blue dress with a corseted bodice whose ample sleeves and silhouette flow with each move. But Ethan can see flaws in the seams, the spots a shade lighter or darker, and the unevenness of the cloth. His larping clothes, made industrially, have none of these flaws. "I don''t know where she bought them from."
"Ask her next time, and don''t go damaging them; they must cost a fortune," Alara says. She lowers her cup and moves her hand to grab something. She pulls up a letter and holds it towards Ethan. "Here is your correspondence."
"I didn''t expect the guild to do that kind of job," Ethan says. He grabs it and inspects the exterior; it is wax-sealed but doesn''t bear a crest.
"It happens when someone only knows you by your guild name. Or when the guild itself wants to contact you," Alara explains. She offers a letter opener that Ethan accepts.
''I leave this letter as I depart on a short journey to look for a place to retire in peace. Sylas told me you would ask about his whereabouts; he has been drafted into the guard and sent away to train. Writing where would be illegal. But I can say that it shouldn''t take more than two more months for him to come back. Edgar - Hammered Heart Smithy.''
"When was it entrusted to you?" Ethan asks. He moves his jaw, annoyed to have taken the time to print illustrated smithing books.
"A bit over two weeks ago," Alara answers. She tries to glance at the letter, but Ethan closes it down. "Is everything alright?"
"A promising Blacksmith I know got drafted," Ethan answers. He leans on the counter as he thinks about it. ''I should have expected whatever government they have to take interest in his talent. Not telling him to avoid the guard was stupid. But why send him away for training? Did they want to put him out of reach from other parties?''
"I guess this has to do with your last mission," Alara comments. She grabs her stack of mission notices and taps it against her counter to align them. It is noticeably larger than last time. She nods at the mission board. "Is there one that catches your eye?"
"I have business elsewhere," Ethan says. The notices overlap each other on the board. Many are for exterminating small nests on villages'' outskirts. He spots Goblins, Kobolds, Stone Mites, varieties of Sporling, spiders, and many more. "It does seem like there is a lot of work."
"Well, winter is coming," Alara begins. "But monsters are even more agitated than usual. I''ve heard Mages saying something in the Ether woke them up. And we are the least impacted; Kingsreach''s guild says they are overwhelmed by vermin. It''s a good thing it didn''t affect larger beasts."
Asking if someone could transport him to Kingsreach crosses Ethan''s mind. But it would create a trail, and he would have to enter their party, revealing his true name. Ethan tosses the letter into the guild''s hearth, destroying it.
"Do you have another Anchorstone available?" Ethan asks.
"Not at the moment," Alara answers. "They are quite rare, you know? But if you can pay in advance, I could have one brought here. It might take a while depending on where it comes from."
While Ethan has twice the required amount, he won''t lock that money for something he could buy elsewhere. He answers, "That won''t be necessary. Have a good day."
"You too," Alara answers as he leaves the building.
Ethan crosses the major street where the adventurer guild stands to enter the alleyways. In need of a new coat and less attention-grabbing clothes, he pushes the door to his Armorer.
"What can I do for you, sir?" Aldwin asks, his back turned as he dresses a mannequin with a breastplate.
"I''m afraid I ruined the last coat you made me; I''m in need of a new one," Ethan says. He summons the remnants of the Shade Drake coat and places them down on the counter.
Aldwin turns around, his eyes narrowing as he''s forced to look up. He grabs what''s left of the coat, examining the cut sleeves and holes. "Unless you want me to turn it sleeveless, I don''t have the material to repair that."
"I was thinking of something new anyway," Ethan begins. He places his hand over the counter and summons the Great Skullgor''s bone plates. "These are extremely light, and yet I couldn''t pierce through them."This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it
Aldwin takes one and identifies it, a window appearing before him. "It''s great stuff, but I don''t have the tools to work it. Unless you have a better weapon than when you killed that beast."
Ethan extends his hand and summons Phantom Reaver. "As a matter of fact, I do."
Aldwin takes the blade from Ethan''s hand as he offers it. Its edge cuts through the bone plate when pressed with great force. He says. "I have a few good leathers in the shop; nothing as discrete as before but sturdier. Do you have a budget in mind?"
"What do you have?" Ethan asks. He has a larger budget than before, and he hasn''t seen Cole yet, but he won''t risk being lied to about the price.
Aldwin guides Ethan to the store''s back and unlocks his large wooden chest. He pulls out two rolled-up leathers and one pelt. He unfolds them one at a time, placing them on tables for Ethan to see. They all hold Ether, disturbing the threads that hit them. Aldwin lists, "For ¡two golds I have that blue Hydra leather. For three, the grey Griffin leather. And for four, the Yeti pelt, this one will do well with the white bones."
"I would need them to be dyed, if possible," Ethan says. He glances around the shop. His budget would allow him far greater material, but going to another shop is a risk. He has to limit the number of people he interacts with. "Anything better?"
"I can ask around, but that will take some time," Aldwin says. "Every time I hear about a great piece, it''s snatched by the regent or a noble. Next time you hunt a beast like that Great Skullgor, you should skin it. It will make you extra coins, and you''ll have better material to work with that way."
"I''ll remember that," Ethan says. He approaches the options and passes his hand on them. His journey might be a long one, and with winter approaching, he should take something warm. "I''d like to use the pelt. Can you dye it black?"
"That won''t hold, but I can use the fur as an inside layer and cover it with black cloth," Aldwin proposes. He rolls up the other two options and stashes them away. "I can make a full set like last time with how much I have. Should I plan for a margin? In case you grow even taller."
"Do that for the whole set; one of my abilities can inflate my muscles, and I don''t want to tear it," Ethan answers. That purchase dealt with, Ethan realizes he needs to find someone who can tell him how to use the Deathvein crystals. "I''ll leave you to it. When can I come retrieve your work?"
"Oh no, you stay here. Not only do I have to take your measurements again, but you are also going to help me sculpt those bone plates. You adventurers need to understand we aren''t all as strong as you. Those bone plates are rock solid for my hands," Aldwin says. He retrieves a small box from a workbench and opens it to give Ethan a gimlet. "Take that; I''ll show you how they need to be cut and where to dig the holes. And don''t go lose that tool; it''s worth more than you can imagine."
Sat in the workshop, Phantom Reaver secured to a bench vice, Ethan sculpts small bone scales half a centimeter thick. He drills three holes in each finished piece, two at the top, one at the bottom. While it demands the use of inhuman strength, the small tool he uses doesn''t bend or deform against the bones. ''Identification,'' Ethan thinks.
Gimlet
A gimlet made of Ether-dense iron.
This tool has been enchanted with [Durability (A)].
''That''s the first A-ranked enchantment I see. I wonder how much it costs,'' Ethan ponders. He gives the finished piece to Aldwin and moves on to the next one. Thankfully, the Skullgor''s bone plates are full and not hollow, allowing them to be cut into smaller chunks.
"Crafting (Armor) leveled up," the system announces.
Aldwin sews the bone scale to a layer of chainmail he attached to the patterned pelt. Ethan hands Aldwin the last piece he needs for the coat; he binds it in place. Attaching a second layer of the pelt, Aldwin forms the final material of layered leather, fur, bone scales, chain mail, fur, and leather. It is thinner than Ethan expected when Aldwin exposed his plan.
The last piece of his pattern finished, Aldwin sews the edges to form the coat. He does so thrice, beginning by binding the chainmail''s links together and then sewing both layers of pelt. To finish up, Aldwin uses a black cloth to cover the raw, inner leather that makes the coat''s surface. To avoid any ripples, he sews it into multiple places, forming what would look like decorative seams on another piece. He uses a dark silver thread to create highlights and break the monotone black of the coat.
Aldwin steps back, wiping his hands on his apron. It leaves a bit of blood from his fingers, damaged by the strength he needed to pierce the leather. He gestures to the pieces laid out before him, the pants and shirt already done without the layer of mail and scales. "There you go."
Ethan inspects the coat first. Its blackened exterior perfectly attaches to the long, hooded piece. It is heavier than any coat he ever held, but the chainmail, compressed in the fur, doesn''t rattle when shaken. He dons it and bends to the sides, checking the flexibility of the scales. Moving his arms, he tries the articulation of the sleeves and finds it flawless. He comments, "This is impressive for only four hours."
"It wouldn''t have been the same deal if I had to make the chainmail myself. Good thing I had chunks in stocks," Aldwin says. "Can you try the rest? I''d like to make the last adjustments fast. We don''t have much time left."
''What does he mean by that? He said it as if I was expected to know. Did I arrive for a holiday?'' Ethan grabs the pants and shirts and moves to a corner.
"Shy?" Aldwin asks.
''No, but I think you would freak out if you saw modern underwear,'' Ethan internally retorts. He changes in a flash and moves back into the workshop. "I have a lot of scars I''m not comfortable with."
"Well, I made it to the perfect size," Aldwin felicitates himself. He tugs on the leeway he left on the back, shoulders, arms, and thighs. "Can you use that ability so we can make sure it fits?"
"Not without alerting the neighborhood," Ethan answers. He would have to draw in tremendous amounts of Ether by the common man''s standard.
"When you do, make sure to note where it feels tight. I don''t have a lot of margins anywhere, but I could still do a few modifications," Aldwin says. He looks up, hearing something Ethan cannot. He opens his status, revealing he''s level ten. "I leveled up; it has been some time since the last one."
"What is your new ability?" Ethan asks as he reads backward through the translucent grey window.
Aldwin Rimhold
Lv.10/20 (Armorer) Human
Strength: 14 Charisma: 10
Dexterity: 14 Perception: 15
Constitution: 14 Willpower: 11
Intelligence: 10
Titles
Bone artisan
Iron artisan
Leather artisan
Steel artisan
Abilities
Blueprint (F)
Identification (E)
Patch (E)
"Blueprint. I know it''s supposed to help me see the patterns of the things I want to create. But with how bad my Ether manipulation is, abilities aren''t really useful," Aldwin says. He sighs. "The plus one in dexterity is good, though."
"Too bad," Ethan comments. No matter how much Aldwin has been useful thus far, Ethan will need a better armorer for future equipment. He gives Aldwin ten gold to pay for the clothes and his discretion. ''Perhaps I can find one in Kingsreach. I''ll need every edge I can to confront Caelum.''
A resonating bell pulls Ethan out of the resentment he felt at the inner mention of Caelum. Aldwin looks out his window, hearing the same sound. He grabs a coat and says, "Let''s go."
''Where?'' Ethan ponders. He digs his hands into his new, fur-lined pockets and follows. Aldwin seems to act as if he was bound to go there, his jaw tensing as he exits and closes his shop.
"I just came back from a long journey. What is happening?" Ethan asks. It may sound weird if it is a recurring event, but he could lie, saying he comes from far away.
"I thought you knew, seeing as you didn''t ask earlier," Aldwin says, glancing back. "The prince is making his first appearance since the king''s death. The regent mandated everyone to be here, or else you''ll get arrested. Honestly, I don''t know what the bastard is thinking."
''So, the regent is in charge because the prince must be too young to rule. The streets will be deserted, making me easier to spot. And even if I''ll be leaving, I shouldn''t get a bad reputation as a¡ rebel.'' Ethan thinks. He sees hundreds of people making their way towards the palace, the same annoyed expression on their faces. "That doesn''t seem to make a lot of people¡ happy."
"You must not be from here," Aldwin begins. "The regent has been strangling us with taxes and laws. And he has been saving on everything he could ¨C the guard, the schools, the hospices, the orphanages, even the cleaning of the streets. People are asking where the money goes if you know what I mean."
''That seems evident indeed,'' Ethan thinks. They reach the wide, main boulevard leading to the castle. Guards shove people to the sides, making an endless crowd on each side of the boulevard. Ethan scans the faces; he sees annoyance, anger, and tiredness. The only people who seem happy are the children moving around.
A bell resonates from the palace, and its gates open, revealing a parade of guards. A palanquin moves at the center of their formation. They descend the boulevard with deliberate slowness, the guards marching in unison.
After what seemed like an hour, the parade reaches Ethan''s section of the city. Opaque drapes cover the palanquin, masking whoever is inside, making Ethan doubt the purpose of such a display. Through the crowd''s forced applause, Ethan hears the sound of a tensioning bow. He triggers predator''s sight, certain the crowd isn''t focused on him, and scans the building.
He catches figures crouched on balconies and behind windows. Some tense bows while others crank the levers of crossbows. To his right side, he spots huddled groups moving through the crowd. Some hold glass vials that catch the light; others rest their hands on the handles of swords and daggers.
''Great,'' Ethan laments. He moves his hands out of his pockets, readying himself to dodge. ''Because I have the time for another terrorist attack this year.''
Chapter 115: Rebellion
A guard spots one of the groups prowling in the crowd; he shoves spectators out of his way. A kid screams as he''s pushed to the ground, attracting attention. The group the guard is reaching spots him. One of them draws a dagger. The guard unsheathes and swings his sword, striking the lunging man.
A woman falls against a wall, her stomach cut by the guard''s too wide slash. The crowd screams and breaks into the parading guards. The crouched figures rise from the balconies and at the windows, aiming at the palanquin.
Arrows fly, hitting the drapes, the guards, and unlucky, fleeing spectators. One of the four bearers falls to the ground, bringing the palanquin down with himself. As Ethan''s eyes fall back on the palanquin, he realizes no one, not even a wounded person, is inside.
Ethan catches an arrow that skidded off a guard''s armor from striking Aldwin''s head. The Armorer is overwhelmed by the situation. He tries to flee but is shoved back against the wall by runaways. Aldwin''s survival might depend on Ethan taking care of it.
''If they removed the prince because they knew he would be attacked, why put up with the parade and not cancel it altogether? It doesn''t matter; what are my escape routes?'' Ethan ponders. He visualizes the streets'' layout, remembering they are on an elevated section. There are alleyways, but they all end on stone balconies. Beside the two sides of the main boulevard, staircases lead to the lower cities at the elevated block''s corners. ''But why attack here? Unless it''s their plan to kill as many people as possible, it leaves them with too few exit routes.''
The ground-level insurgents throw their vials in the parade. This fire clings to them like napalm, its fuel melting with clothes and seeping into armor. Victims roll to the ground, trying to put the fire out while they scream.
A guard thrusts his spear towards Ethan; he''s aiming at an insurgent behind Ethan. Ethan deflects the spear with his palm, redirecting the blow to its intended target. The guard is imbalanced, and his attack was childish; he''s incompetent or untrained.
''They are all incompetent,'' Ethan realizes. The guards that are fighting are disorganized, brawling in their corner of the battlefield with childish moves. The best of them circle the palanquin, fighting the insurgents that rush the transport. ''Don''t they know it''s empty?''
Heavy, metallic noises reach Ethan''s enhanced senses. Lifeforms rise from the block''s stairs, rushing in formation. Two other units exit the alleyways further up and down the boulevard, closing all exit routes. They heft large, thick shields in front of them and lower spears. Walking forward, they enclose the space, their stair-originating homologues blocking the alleyways.
The insurgents cower into a central formation, their blades towards the newly arrived guards. Their comrades, who were firing from the houses, take to the roofs, fleeing the scene. Archers from behind the shield lines harass their retreat, hitting several. The surviving parade guards move to circle the palanquin, commanded by those who were already protecting it.
Ethan leans back on the wall behind him. There may be some questioning to go through for being present, but fleeing now is a worse option. Even if he''s going to leave, being wanted might hinder future actions here.
"Surrender! You have nowhere to go," a deep voice commands. Its owner, an aging man in imposing armor, moves out of the palace-sided shield line. He slams the ten-centimeter-thick kite shield he holds into the ground. His tired eyes scan the slaughter ¨C burned and gutted guards, civilians, and insurgents.
A vial flies from the insurgents'' formation, striking the older man in the chest. The fire spreads across him but doesn''t affect him. The flames lick up his skin and hair but do not burn them. He taps the flames, dispelling them.
The raggedly dressed insurgents drop their weapons, slowly raising their hands in the air. Seeing them now, Ethan realizes they are starved, with atrophied muscles and sunken eyes.
Guards move in duos to drag the insurgents to the ground and bind their hands.
The older, leading guard moves to the palanquin and opens its drapes. He moves back, releasing a long sigh. Grabbing a parade''s guard, he asks, "Where is the prince?!"
''Even these reinforcements, who were too close to think their intervention wasn¡¯t planned, didn''t know,'' Ethan thinks. ''Maybe they planned for an attack, knowing it was likely, but still involved the prince, only for him to ditch them.''
A woman, Thea Downstar, daughter of the regent, appears from the palace-sided shield line. She wears her leather armor and a white, hooded coat. She enters the palanquin and throws out cloths, making sure he isn''t hiding under them.
Her two guards, the same as in the Hammered Heart smithy, follow her. One of them pulls her out of the palanquin by the arm. He commands, "You shouldn''t be here; this is a battlefield."
Thea slivers her arm out of his grasp and scans the scene. Her eyes fall on Ethan; she moves towards him. As she nears him, Ethan realizes she''s now as small as she was in his vision of a ball. She asks, "Adventurer, where did the prince go?"
"I didn''t see him leaving the palanquin," Ethan answers. Did she select him because of his calm or because she recognized him?
"You control your aura perfectly; you sensed his, do not lie," Thea hisses. Her guards come after her, their eyes on Ethan.
"Then he never was in the palanquin," Ethan capitalizes on her assumption. It makes Ethan think that rings of aura manipulation might be rare.
She holds his gaze for an eternity, trying to read his controlled expression. "Come with me!" Thea orders, motioning for Ethan to follow her.
"I am not a guard you can order around," Ethan retorts. She must want to interrogate him. The situation is turning too likely to expose Ethan''s identity; he must find a way out.
"We must object," one of her guards says. He moves closer to her, his hand open, ready to catch her arm. "You will not go after the prince; you are to remain with us and, I must insist, return to the palace."
Thea moves away from her guard and towards Ethan. He extends his hand, ready to summon his blade as she comes at him. Instead of an attack, she grabs his arm. Before she can speak, Ethan is taken to a vision.
The world turns into a large room with high walls and an arched ceiling. Scarce candles light the place, illuminating a figure with flickering lights. Ethan finds himself hidden from them behind a column; a young woman hides at its feet. She looks like a younger Thea, perhaps in her late teens.
Thea gasps, looking directly at Ethan. He glances behind himself, trying to see what surprised her. She grabs his arm to pull him behind the pillar. "Don''t worry; this is a vision; it''s not real."Stolen novel; please report.
"Did you drag me here?" Ethan asks. He wonders if she could be another high human, one dotted with Pastseer.
"I''m an Oracle. But I usually have to meditate and expand Ether for hours to even get a glimpse of the future," Thea says. She peeks from the pillar towards the figure, and then moves back into hiding. "I know where we are. This shouldn''t be possible; I do not have visions of the past. But I know it is because I was there, looking exactly like that, hiding behind that pillar."
"What is supposed to happen?" Ethan asks. The figure waits by a central altar.
"It''s better if you see; I doubt you would believe me otherwise," Thea answers. She peeks back out, looking towards imposing stone doors at the other end.
The doors open, pushed by a large figure in a fur mantle. A crown rests on his greying hair, bearing ambers. "What is it, Dawnstar? Why did you summon me to this old temple? Couldn''t we have had this conversation in my court?"
"I fear not," the waiting figure answers. He descends from the altar''s stairs to meet the king''s level. With his face turned in their direction, Ethan recognizes facial features the man shares with Thea. "I have information only you should be made aware of."
"Then speak, Dawnstar," the king commands. He stops a few paces away from the future regent. Under his fur mantle he wears a cobalt blue tabard and a silver breastplate. A long sword hangs in its sheath from his hip. Where did this meeting take place for the king to come armored and armed?
"I fear there are spies amongst your court, your majesty," the future regent says.
"Who?! Give me names, Dawnstar," the king bellows. His voice turned to anger in an instant.
A deep, resonating voice comes from beyond the doors. "They are closer than you would think." A knight in jet-black armor crosses their threshold. This is the armor of Caelum Cindralis, perfectly articulated plates with no gap to exploit. His sword rests in his hand, held to the side.
"What is the meaning of this?!" the king asks. He pushes away his cape with a wide arm motion before unsheathing his own sword. "Who are you?"
"You would not remember me, even if I told you my name. I have been away for quite some time," Caelum says with a chuckle. It''s his unmistakable voice. "Imagine my surprise when I find out your kind not only festered in my absence, but that you also hoarded what I need."
"What are you talking about?!" the king asks. He glances at the future regent and whispers, "Fetch the guards."
The regent flees through a door at the altar''s back.
Caelum follows him with his gaze but doesn¡¯t act. Instead, he spins his sword before resting it on his shoulder. "We do not have to fight. I merely need you to open your family vault; there are belongings of mine inside."
"How do you know about its existence?" the king asks. He falls into a stance, his blade leveled at Caelum''s head.
"It was built by a friend of mine," Caelum reveals. "I wouldn''t have dared think it would one day fall in the hands of a parasite like you. And yet here we are. So, what will it be? Will you hear my request? Or do I have to take you there by force?"
"I do not know what gives you such confidence," the king says. His muscles swell, filling his armor and widening his frame. The king''s blade covers with ice, casting a descending mist.
"Of course," Caelum says, holding a finger.
The king moves back, his stance failing as he narrows his eyes in discomfort. The freezing mist on his sword vibrates, scrambled by an unseen force.
"It was unbearable," Thea says. Her hands shake as she speaks. "It was my first time sensing someone''s aura; I passed out until he restrained it."
The king charges, his blade singing through the air. Caelum meets the attack with ease, holding off the king''s blade with the strength of his wrist.
The king roars, unleashing a flurry of attacks Caelum deflects with ease. If Caelum wanted, he could kill the aging king at any moment. This is a game for him as he shares speed and reflexes with Aranthor.
With an upward slash, Caelum disarms the king, sending his sword skittering across the floor. He chains with attacks that dig through the king''s armor, cutting shallow gashes in his chest.
The king hurls his disarmed hand to Caelum''s chest; a bang detonates, echoing off the room''s walls. Caelum''s armor hums as it vibrates from the king''s spell or ability.
"It is a shame your kind never recovered from Aranthor''s reign," Caelum says. He grabs the king''s hand and snaps his elbow by overextending his forearm. "To think those who trample over millions of subjects would be so weak. Tell me, king, when did you last take what you wanted with your own hands? When did you last fight for your own survival?"
The king, trembling, reaches for his discarded sword. Caelum doesn¡¯t stop him; he seems amused by the effort. The monarch grips the hilt in his left hand and struggles to his feet. His ice enchantment reforms as frost creeps along the edge.
"You said I would not remember you, but I know who you are, Cindralis," the king says. Sweat beads from his forehead as he winces in pain, his right arm dangling. "My ancestor would have never called you a friend. Traitor is the better title."
Caelum laughs, the low sound reverberating through the chamber. "I''m the one who was betrayed! They gave up our vision the moment they smelled power. Ruling other mankind, decaying in its opulence, gawking in the cults they caused."
"Had you not betrayed them, we would live in a world free of disasters," the king growls. "Aranthor''s rule brought peace for mankind. He may have weakened the masses and shunned the gods, but in doing so he hindered the powers that feed the birth of monsters."
"He kept them docile so they may serve his whims!" Caelum booms. He swings at the king''s sword, cutting through the blade. "The natural order was never meant to be shackled! We were meant to thrive through power and unbridled will! Everyone will soon be reminded of it; I bring with me a new opponent. One you pacified lambs, and the weak monsters they birth will crumble against. And when they do, I''ll be here to restore the natural order."
"I wouldn''t count on it," the king says. A bang resonates, muffled as if coming from inside something organic. Blood squeezes out of the king''s mouth and nose, and he falls to his knees. "My bloodline ends with me, traitor. No one will open the vault for you; your plan is dead."
"Bastard!" Caelum growls. He kicks the king to the ground. "You dare oppose me? No matter; your bloodline doesn''t end with you. Ten years until he¡¯s thirteen is a short time for me."
"How?" the king mutters, drowning in his blood.
The future regent reappears from behind the altar, his steps echoing. A smile on his face, he says, "Expecting me to not realize my son wasn''t my own was stupid, Sigmund. The revelation will shake the public, but with your death they will accept him; less they suffer under your brother-in-law."
"I thrusted you," the king mutters, his voice leaving him. His breathing slows to a stop, his lungs filling with blood. "I wronged you; do not doom them because of it."
"You wouldn''t understand," the future regent says. "There is a vision I''ll do anything to fulfill. If I have to step on a pile of corpses for it, so it will be."
Thea lowers her gaze as she hears him. She mutters, "Everything is my fault. If I hadn''t told him what I saw, he would have never betrayed the king."
"It puts us on a tight schedule," Caelum says. He kicks the king''s lifeless body. "But it won''t delay anything. Coincidentally, the planes won''t be near for another ten years. We''ll still have to wait two months after his thirteenth birthday. I''ll leave that task to you; do not disappoint."
"Yes, master," the regent says.
"When is the prince''s thirteenth birthday?" Ethan asks.
"Today," Thea reveals. She wraps her arms around her knees, sliding against the pillar to hide her head in her arms. "I tried to follow him all day. I saw him to the palanquin and followed the parade."
"Do you have any idea of where they could have taken him?" Ethan asks. "Where is that vault?"
"Near the temple we are in right now," Thea says. She starts to shake as her voice breaks down. "It''s under the palace, in the old city. But if that man returned, I can''t do anything."
"I''ll kill him," Ethan says, his anger barely controlled. He extends his hand to help her to her feet. "That man''s name is Caelum Cindralis, and I''ll stop at nothing to see him dead."
"How?" Thea asks. She grabs Ethan''s hand and stands up. "How do you know him?"
"He robbed and murdered my father and burned down my home," Ethan reveals. Given what happened in this vision, the truth is the easiest version for her to believe. But there is another fact that will echo with her; Ethan needs her cooperation to find this vault. "I too have visions; whatever power governs them wants me to find him."
"That''s why we were pulled together; my ability must have interfered with yours," she interrupts.
"It showed me his past; the day he betrayed Aranthor Elarion amidst the Orc invasion," Ethan continues. "He had a plan then that would see millions dead, and I think he''s at it again."
"That''s what he mentioned would happen two months after Godfrey''s birthday, isn''t it?" Thea asks. "But that would make him hundreds of years old."
"He is; I think he''s a high human. Those people can live thousands of years," Ethan says. His own words frightened him for a second. What if he has thousands of years to live? Ethan feels a pull on his mind, indicating the vision is about to collapse. "Guide me to that vault and I''ll do the rest."
"The guards that follow me will try to stop us," Thea says. "They are my captors more than my guards."
"That won''t be a problem," Ethan announces.
Chapter 116: Vault
The vision recedes, the temple turning back to the guards-surrounded boulevard. Thea stares at Ethan, stopping herself from saying what she planned to before the vision.
One of her guards extends his hand to grab her arm.
Ethan pulls her in, scoops her up, and jumps on the closest house''s roof. He unhands her, and she stumbles on the slightly inclined roof, the acceleration messing with her stomach.
The guards stare up at them, the archers behind the shield lines tensing their bows.
Ethan looks back at Thea. He requests, "Could you tell them this isn''t a kidnapping? I''d like my encounters with the guard to remain cordial."
She edges the roof to look down at them. "Don''t worry. We are going to look around for the prince. But I''m afraid your heavy armor will slow us down. I won''t need your protection with a C-ranked adventurer by my side anyway."
''She knows this identity,'' Ethan notes. His suspicion that she recognized him from before grows stronger.
The guards, except for her captors, relax as she smiles at them.
The two frowning bodyguards glare at Ethan. The first of them whispers, "We should warn the regent."
"No, they could follow us. Let''s get the others; that man is dangerous," the other whispers back.
Thea motions for Ethan to follow her, and they move from one roof to another. She, much like when she fought in the arena, jumps Olympic distances across wide streets. Ethan follows with similar ease, mindful of his steps on the slated roofs. A few bystanders notice them and, for most, wave hello to Thea.
They reach the edge of the palace''s gardens and jump down to the main street. The guards let them through without interrupting, welcoming Thea with a smile. They give Ethan a longer look, but seeing who he''s with, most likely decide they shouldn''t bother questioning.
''She''s held against her wishes by her own guards, but the others seem unaware of that,'' Ethan notes. He spots garden workers waving at her, genuine smiles on their faces. ''Making it official that the regent''s daughter is a prisoner in her own palace might not fly with the public.''
Thea slows down as she approaches a crypt''s entrance at the edge of a walled cemetery. It is slightly hidden at the palace''s side and decorated with many plants and flowers. From the streets, it would be hard to tell it is a cemetery.
"Is the vault in a family''s crypt?" Ethan asks as she unlocks the gate with a crude key.
"No," Thea answers. She moves inside, descending the stairs that await them. "The real undergrounds'' entrance is in the palace. But I expect it to be watched or even guarded. I have another way in."
Ethan descends to see a large room with a dozen coffins whose lid represents whoever is inside. Triggering predator''s sight, he sees cold air seeping from under a wall before Thea opens the hidden door by turning a torch holder.
She guides him into a narrow and dusty corridor. The walls here are made of cut, black stones. Thea twists an identical torch holder that mirrors the first one''s position to close the passage. Thea pulls out a lantern from a haversack disguised as a pouch and lights it with a twist of its base.
The walls let no sound through, leaving only the echoes of their steps and Thea''s racing heart. She doesn''t seem worried by Ethan, as she doesn''t even glance back. Instead, she seems to dread what awaits them, her pace unconsciously slowing down.
Ethan tries to scan the surroundings with predator''s sight, but these walls dampen his perception. He cannot sense anything through them, and only a small hundred meters ahead. The stone they are made of seems to negate sounds as well as the best of Earth''s sound-absorbing matters.
"After Blackwood''s illegal auctions, I investigated the man who helped while disguised as a guard," Thea begins. Talking might reveal them to an awaiting enemy. She no doubt wants to find a way to distract herself. "I knew it was you the moment I saw you at Edgar''s, but I had no proof."
Ethan stays silent. If he denies now, she might surprise him with actual proof. It is best to wait for her arguments.
"You joined the adventurer guild the day a survivor of an orc raid on Elmswood reached Opal. The village wouldn''t have survived if not for a nameless noble. And, besides your hair color, the priests described you quite well," Thea says. "Then, you destroyed the Huskstalkers'' nest that overtook the hideout of the smugglers who brought them. That''s why their queen was scared of you in the arena. You must have missed her; those things like digging themselves into the ground."
''I messed up,'' Ethan thinks. But how could she have linked him to the Huskstalkers'' nest? The question lingers in his mind. He made sure no one followed him. The only person who could have talked was the adventurer he threatened. He lies, "As I said, I went hunting at that time. I won''t deny I joined the guild after landing in Opal, nor Elmswood incident, but I have no idea what a Huskstalker is."
Thea smirks; there must be something he didn''t think of ¨C undeniable proof she has on him. She restrains that smile, looking down as if ashamed of the spark of mischief. After all, they are on their way to rescue her half-brother and prince from her father. She explains, "Your dog gave you up. She''s quite the unique breed; it made her memorable for the harbor''s homeless."
"He is a male," Ethan specifies. Back on Earth a Malinois would never have attracted much attention. ''How far did she investigate? Surely, I wouldn''t be here if she found out about the intelligence and resource network I snatched from Viktor.''
"You would have been rewarded if you had come forth; Blackwood had been a parasite in our country for long enough," Thea says. "Too bad he had contingencies for his home to be burned down if he was arrested. I think he was at the head of many criminal activities we still know nothing about."
''That''s a relief they came to such a false conclusion. But that''s what I would say if I were to suspect the person who accompanies me; to lower their defenses,'' Ethan thinks.
"Did he have anything to do with Cindralis?" Thea asks. She motions for him to follow to the right as they reach a four-way crossing.
"I doubt it," Ethan answers. "To tell you the truth, I only followed the trail of the parasites that were plaguing your city. I didn''t expect him to be involved."
"Probably why you disguised yourself at the end; mingling with nobles'' business can be a thorn," Thea laments.This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.
''Her tendency to make excuses for me is quite agreeable,'' Ethan thinks. ''Is it a trap? Or does she stop as soon as she finds a reasonable explanation?''
"But if what I saw of your strength in the arena is the extent of it, I doubt you are that much stronger than me," Thea comments. She appears worried.
''Am I going too fast?'' Ethan ponders. He stops, his eyes moving down as he forces himself to calm down. While she doesn''t know how much he grew since, he still doubts his strength. ''If Caelum is on Aranthor''s level, and I mean the strength he had against Seraphel, I am no match. Seeing him clouded my mind; I shouldn''t rush to fight him. But hindering his plans, even if it means retreating after stealing what he wants, will give me more time to grow.''
Thea stops and turns around as she notices his halt.
"I am way stronger than what you saw back then," Ethan begins. He resumes his steps, and she does the same, guiding him through the narrow corridors. "But I experienced firsthand how strong he could be when I fought another high human. I''ve let my anger cloud my judgment."
"But you are still following me," Thea says, halfway between a question and incomprehension. She stops as they reach a barred gate blocking their path.
"My best option is to delay what he''s planning," Ethan says. "I know too little of his plans, but if whatever is in that vault is necessary, taking it will give me more time."
"Time for what?" Thea asks.
"To grow," Ethan answers. Remembering Tombstone''s report, he realizes that his leveling speed might be unbelievable for Thea.
Thea''s eyes move to the side as she dives into her thoughts. "Even if you hinder him for years, he won''t remain inactive. And if, as you said, he has thousands of years to live, time is our enemy, not his."
"Anyway, it is better to hinder him when we have the possibility," Ethan deflects.
"You said you saw him betraying the king of Aldoria; what''s the ability that grants you visions of the past?" Thea asks. She pulls out a bronze key from her haversack and unlocks the gate. It seems recent, much more than the gate. Thea must have had it made, either from the original or from knowing how to lockpick the gate.
"Pastseer," Ethan answers. Lying will get him nowhere now, especially to someone who knows more about abilities and talents than him. According to Aranthor''s rant, Ishai fruits may not give everybody the same benefits; she shouldn''t suspect it. "It''s a talent, not an ability."
She freezes, turning her head towards Ethan. "How are you not bound to some king''s dungeon? Do you have any idea how rare and precious that is?"
"I do, I think," Ethan answers. His apprehension of how coveted his talent was by some was right. How would she react if he told her he also has the Oracle talent? He crosses the gate, closing it silently without locking it. "You said yours was an ability; how does it work?"
"The first ability of an Oracle is called Premonition," Thea begins. She guides him through dusty corridors, lowering her voice to a whisper. "It requires meditating with the Ether for hours. But what we see is often disappointingly mundane."
Perhaps her experience with Premonition could translate to his talents. His visions have been linked to triggers such as a memory or a book. Finding out how to better control them would help him tremendously. He asks, "Can you affect what the visions center around? Like a person, an object, or an event?"
"They say inner peace and clarity of mind affect the result; that''s why most Oracles live in seclusion. Some of them spend their lives focusing on a specific target to get one useful vision about it. As for me, I can''t say I have been at peace for some time," Thea explains.
''Then if I''m still on the hunt by tomorrow, finding one of these monasteries could be useful,'' Ethan thinks.
"If I had known how useless that class was, I wouldn''t have chosen it," Thea says. "The only thing it did was give my father delusions of grandeur and show me nightmares once in a while."
"Are none of the other four abilities useful?" Ethan asks. He never unlocked that class despite having the talent of the same name and doesn''t know its content.
She tenses her jaws, annoyed by the question. "I wouldn''t know. The second one is a talent ¨C Destined echoes. It sometimes highlights people who will impact my life in the future. ¡It marked you the three times I saw you."
"When you say in the future, does ¨C"
"Don''t trust it," Thea cuts. "It has marked people who were going to try to assassinate me, people who ended up courting me, but also people who died without ever mattering again."
"And the other three?" Ethan asks.
"I''m only level nine; I don''t have them yet," Thea answers. "The rest I learned with tomes."
"You seemed strong for a level nine," Ethan comments, smelling a lie. "I''ve met people much weaker than you at that level. That''s surprising for someone with a non-combat-focused class."
"Thank you," Thea says, surprising Ethan. "For all his flaws, my father made sure I trained my entire life. I have been fighting tutors every day, even before receiving the system. And he made sure I had both daily physical and scholarly training."
''So weightlifting, cardio, schooling, and more are still viable options to raise your stats,'' Ethan notes. Gamification of education seems like a great way to incite adolescents to better themselves. It makes him ponder as to why the masses aren''t stronger and better educated than Earth''s Middle Ages'' peasants. ''Maybe the effort seems too much compared to leveling up. But if most of them take ages to gain a level, why not focus on training?''
Russ'' eyes open on Ethan''s shadow, scanning the corridor they are in. He sniffs the air, attracting Thea''s attention.
Ethan sniffs, making it seem like it always was him. A stench attacks his senses, that of rotting flesh. By experience he can tell it''s both distant and nothing recent ¨C whatever died has been rotting for a long time. Ethan distracts, "I''ve always wondered why people level up at different paces."
Thea doesn''t respond immediately, her attention diverted by Ethan''s shadow. She glances at him with a questioning look. "People''s leveling speed is deeply tied to their mindset. The system doesn''t reward just effort; it rewards intent, clarity, and a desire for growth. Those who truly yearn to grow stronger, who face monsters with hunger for more, level up faster. Unless, like your Blacksmith friend, the system gives you an unfair talent."
"How unfair is it?" Ethan asks.
"It doesn''t matter if he''s depressed, or even if he gave up on himself; he would always grow at the maximum rate humanly possible," Thea answers. "To reach his growth speed, one would need to be single-minded on growing stronger. An obsession so perverse it would make trampling others for it an acceptable idea."
"So, the system indirectly rewards the most inhumane people ¨C those who would sell their mother for power?" Ethan muses.
"In a way, yes," Thea answers. "But it also rewards the pure of heart who would give everything to protect others. Power for the sake of power isn''t a long-lasting motivation, especially when one''s training may last years."
''My growth speed has been remarkable. My thirst for strength must have been subconscious. After so many years of almost daily training, always yearning to get stronger became natural. Even though I''ve long since hit my body''s soft limits,'' Ethan thinks. His eyes fall on Russ'' as he surfaces once again to sniff the air. To cover the noise, Ethan asks, "What of bonds? I can''t see an animal thirsting for power."
"I couldn''t tell you," Thea answers. "The people who can talk with them aren''t the ones who bother to write their knowledge in books."
"People who can talk with animals?" Ethan asks, his tone doubtful.
"Druids, or some rare Tamers," Thea explains. "Not the most common of classes, true. It takes a certain type of childhood to make one."
''They would have to learn to tame animals before they are thirteen. I haven''t seen many dogs in the city; it leaves the children who grow up in stables.''
She closes her hand to motion for Ethan to stop. Crouching, Thea glances through a crack in a wall.
Ethan already sensed the only lifeforms present: eight men a hundred meters away. Their hearts are powerful and slow, echoing to him through the ancient corridors. He senses the cold metal that encases them ¨C thick armors too heavy for the average man.
"I think the way is clear," Thea says. She unsheathes a dagger and slides it between two stones. She pulls one of them from the wall before laying it down on the floor. "We should stop talking from this point onward."
Ethan agrees with his silence.
Thea removes a last stone, creating a hole in the wall. She motions for him to follow and crosses the newly created doorway. They enter a wider, taller corridor, as if their way in was a maintenance shaft.
Close enough for his perception to seem human, Ethan signals Thea the presence of eight enemies. Then he cringes, realizing how weird U.S. military hand signals must have been to her. He leans back to whisper, "Eight men on the right, heavily armored."
"This is the only way in," Thea whispers back. She stands straighter and dusts off her coat. "But if they are who I think, there is a chance they will let us in."
Chapter 117: Vault – Part 2
''How do you know them?'' Ethan asks himself. His hair rises along his neck ¨C a rare and disturbing sensation. What if she does know of the criminal network he took from Viktor? Could it be a trap? Ethan calms himself and reviews the fact. ''The only way she could have crafted that vision, if such an ability exists, would require extensive knowledge of my own abilities and goals. Plus, she found me by chance unless she lied and has total control over her own visions. On the other hand, her knowing the men guarding her father is way more likely."
The smell of rot grows stronger as they approach the guards. Though, only Ethan seems to notice it. It doesn''t come from them, but rather behind them. A small staircase with deep steps leads to them. Behind stands a short corridor, ended by large stone gates.
One of the guards moves down towards them, shield forward. His armor bears the most decorations ¨C golden sea snakes and edges and a cobalt-blue cape. Like his underlings, he hefts a halberd, its head imposing and thick. No normal man could hold that with such ease. His steps echo in the corridor, his armor weighing hundreds of kilos.
''He has a remarkable range of motion for someone wearing a car''s worth of metal,'' Ethan notes. He spots the joints only covered with mail and cloth, exposing weak points at the arms and knee pits.
"Let us through, captain," Thea commands. She steps towards him, climbing a single step, her hands to the sides. "I know my brother is inside."
"Your father ordered that no one is to disturb them," the captain says. His helmet''s slit turns towards Ethan. "Wait for their return on the side, you and your new friend."
Thea approaches the captain. Whispering to him, she pleads, "Bertram, please. My father brought him here to open his family''s vault, our dead king''s vault. His killer wants whatever is inside, and it''s possible he came here today."
"Another man I never saw was with them," the captain whispers back with none of his earlier authority. His new tone makes him seem like a conspirator. "One seventy-five, pale, glazed eyes."
''That doesn''t fit at all,'' Ethan notes. The lingering anger of imagining Caelum so close dies down. He scans the seven other guards, seeking any sign that they are eavesdropping or reacting. ''An ally of the regent? One of Caelum''s subordinates? Or a third party?''
Thea says, "Then he, or the man who''s with them, plans to deliver the vault''s content to our king''s killer. It''s our chance to stop them. If we don''t, millions could die."
''Billions,'' Ethan mentally corrects.
"We don''t have enough proof yet," the captain whispers. His heart is accelerating. "If we act now, we''ll be branded as traitors. Eirlys'' wife will not testify, leaving me as the sole witness. Kasper has been terrified since his assistant accountants have been killed. Emberlain will never side with us unless she''s sure we can win. And ¨C"
"And someone tricked the rebels into attacking the prince to ambush them," Thea cuts in. It seems they have been trying to stop the regent for some time but have nothing thus far.
''Blackmailing Emberlain into doing what you want is nothing impossible,'' Ethan thinks. Thea must want to keep her father alive; even if he''s guilty of conspiracy of regicide, he''s still her father. She probably intends to have him locked up if she''s seeking proof and witnesses.
The captain looks over his shoulder at the other guards. He whispers, "Then we have nothing. Wait on the side; find a lie to tell your father once he gets out as to why you are here."
''No matter how dense they are, whispering with her like that will make them suspicious,'' Ethan internally comments.
"You don''t understand," Thea whispers. "It''s now or never. Whatever plan he has for the kingdom is linked to whatever is inside. If we stand idle today, there won''t be another chance to stop him."
''A bit of an extrapolation,'' Ethan thinks.
"Are you certain?" the captain asks. "Whatever we see when these doors open again will be reported as it seems. And I will plead mind control to justify my actions."
Thea''s breath catches as her heart races. She looks briefly to the side and answers, "Yes."
The captain turns around and waves his halberd to the side. He commands, "Let them through."
The men glance at each other, and the second most decorated steps forward. He says, "Sir, in virtue of the lord regent''s orders, you are relieved of duty and placed under arrest for treason. I didn''t believe it would come to this, but there is no other explanation. Surrender yourself or face the consequences."
Ethan bursts forward, grabbing the guard''s helmet by the top as he spins into the air. The piece of armor comes with a snap of the strap that held it, revealing a mail-covered head. Still in the air, his speed too fast for them to react, Ethan summons Phantom Reaver. He twists his entire body, hurling the blade at the man''s neck.
A flash of golden light sparks at the impact point, and the sword bounces back. Ethan''s feet grind against the ground as he lands, stopping against the door.
Three of the seven guards turn towards him, lowering their halberds in his direction.
''Vanguards,'' Ethan realizes.
"Stand down!" the captain orders.
Three of his own men move to circle him, splitting from each other in an arc. The last of them walks towards Thea, halberd leveled at her chest.
Ethan snaps his fingers, casting a Silence spell. A golden mist forms from their armor and descends to the ground. It doesn''t break their focus or formation; they don''t even exchange a word.
The guards facing Ethan thrust their halberds forward, aiming to stab him with the spear-like tip.
Using his stored Ether, Ethan triggers Strengthening and swings at the weapons. He strikes them on the flat from below, deflecting them upward. The way cleared, Ethan moves into the shield wall''s reach and shoulders the helmetless man. Pushing with all his might, Ethan sends the man rolling into the stairs, breaking their formation.Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation.
Thea dodges attacks one after the other, deflecting her opponent''s halberds with her blade. She doesn''t try to counter; instead, she attracts him further down the corridor, nearing the end of Silence''s range.
The captain charges into the guard on his left. Their shields connect, sending the guard to the ground. Capitalizing on it, the captain hurls the axe head of his halberd like a hammer, striking the guard''s helmet. It doesn''t cut through, but the guard''s arms fall to the sides. The impact, at the very least, knocked him unconscious.
Ethan thrusts his blade at his right opponent''s armpit. Phantom Reaver digs through the mail, impaling him ten centimeters deep. The guard''s flesh and bones resist the blade, as if Ethan was cutting through Kevlar.
Ethan''s victim falls to the side, his body pulling Phantom Reaver out of Ethan''s grasp.
Ethan''s remaining opponent hurls his shield at Ethan. The hunk of metal slams into Ethan''s shoulder, but he opposes it, pushing back against it.
Out of Silence''s range, Thea coats her thin blade in translucent flames. She moves behind her opponent''s halberd''s reach, exposing herself to a shield bash.
He falls for her trap and extends his arm to slam her with his shield. Expecting the blow, Thea sidesteps the attack and moves behind his shield. She steps on his knee guard, rising above his head, grabs his armor collar, and stabs her blade into his neck. Golden dust descends from around the wound, her blade''s enchantment dispelling Sanctuary.
The helmetless guard rises to his feet, roars, and charges towards Ethan.
The captain''s second opponent sweeps his superior''s legs with his halberd, sending him to the ground. He continues the motion to bring the halberd above his head, arming a beheading strike.
Ethan cancels Silence and alters the runes he envisions to cast Lightning Bolt. The electricity runs through the shield he holds, burning the guard as it courses through his armor.
The captain restores Sanctuary in time to stop the blow that strikes his mail-covered neck. The halberd bounces back, and the captain rolls to his feet, blocking an attack from his other opponent.
Ethan extends his hand as he dashes to meet the guard charging him. He vaults over the guard''s shield and summons his scythe. The blade catches the man''s neck but grinds against Sanctuary in a series of golden sparks.
Gravecall (Scythe)
Sculpted from the bones of a Blighteros, this scythe decays flesh and matter. Infusing it with death Ether will enhance its sharpness, durability, and decaying power. It feeds upon each defeated foe, growing stronger for a short period of time.
This weapon has been enchanted with [Slaughter''s fervor (B)].
Ethan snaps his fingers to restore Silence and twists his entire body; the scythe cuts through the guard''s mail and throat. Blood pours out from the wound as the flesh around it withers away, widening the cut. Ethan turns the scythe and hurls its tip into the electrified guard''s armpit. It juts out by the shoulder pad before Ethan pulls it out.
Both guards fall to the ground, clutching their expanding wounds. The second screams as if burned by acid; his arm falls off, his armor rusting and falling apart.
Gravecall''s bone blade hums as they expire, a bending of the light coating its edge. Cracks along its shaft, filled with an obsidian matter, take on a greenish hue.
The captain sweeps a guard''s legs off, sending him to the ground, and barrels into the other man. The impact sends him rolling to Thea''s feet.
Thea grabs her blade with both hands and slides it into the guard''s helmet''s slit. It pierces his skull, killing him instantly.
Ethan wrenches Phantom Reaver out of its victim''s corpse and bursts towards the last, fallen guard. He sweeps the man''s arm as he tries to roll to his feet, keeping him on the ground. Stepping on the guard''s helmet to expose his neck, Ethan rams his blade into it, ending the fight.
Thea joins them as the captain removes his helmet, revealing a sweat-drenched face. He seems on the older side of life, looking in his mid-fifties despite his muscled physique.
Silence ends, and Ethan unsummons his scythe. He pries his blade out of his victim''s spine. Cleaning the blood with a flick of the wrist, he asks, "Any other guards inside?"
"No," the captain answers. He passes his gauntleted hand over his face, drying the sweat, and puts his helmet back on. "Only the prince, the regent, and his guest."
"Melee Weapon (Long sword) leveled up. Unarmed Combat leveled up. Melee Weapon (Scythe) leveled up (x3)," the system announces.
Thea sheathes her blade. "There is no coming back now."
"I guess so," the captain confirms. He straightens himself and walks up the stairs towards the gate. "We can hold your father in the undercity for a few days, but you need to find proofs to charge him with."
"I know," Thea says. She looks to the side, apprehending all that is to come. Succeeding here today means a lot of change for her country, but probably more importantly, for her.
The captain places a hand on each door and pushes with his entire body, slowly opening them. Stone grinding against stone accompanies the languid action.
They enter a circular room. Its floor is moving down, leaving only a bridge leading to a central platform. Three figures wait there, the regent and unknown man looking back at the three of them as they enter. The prince looks away and doesn''t react to their arrival. He''s immobile, staring at the far wall, dressed in a blue, priestly gown too long for his short frame.
"What is the meaning of this?" the regent demands. He turns with force, lifting his mantle.
While the prince''s aura is the one disturbing the Ether, Ethan can feel the third man hiding his. The faint stench of rot comes from him, and wouldn''t he be standing, anyone would take him for a corpse. His opened coat, itself made of human-looking leather, reveals a chest plate made of bones held by tendons.
The captain looks bewildered by the sight, as if he only now realized how evil-looking that man is.
The man clears his throat of mucus that obstructed it. His voice is like stone grinding together, as tolerable as chalk screaming against a board. "It looks like your daughter convinced your captain to betray you, bringing a stray with them."
"Captain, drag these two outside," the regent commands. He adds a hand motion to emphasize his words. "I''ll deal with my daughter meddling when I am done here."
Thea steps in front of them. "I know what you want, and I won''t let you give it to the monster who killed our king."
The regent and the man look at each other with accusing glances. The man comments, "I doubt you know what we are after, but I find your knowledge worrying. I''m afraid we''ll need to take more drastic measures regarding your limited freedom."
Clenching his jaw, the regent turns back to Thea. His heart is accelerating as he unconsciously shifts away from the man, scared. "Do not try anything stupid, Thea."
"You left me no choice," Thea barks.
''Prescience,'' Ethan thinks, sensing the tension rising.
The man glances at the prince, and the little boy''s head snaps to him. The man commands, "You are free."
The prince''s absent-minded state turns to surprise and fear. He glances at the regent and falls to the ground. His eyes darting to Thea, he rises, and he runs towards her.
A bone blade held by a serrated bone chain slices through the prince''s neck, sending his body and head to the ground. Warned by Prescience, Ethan bursts past the running prince and parries the blade. It bounces off Phantom Reaver, away from the prince.
The chain links, jutting out of the man''s sleeve, curve unnaturally, as if it were an articulated skeleton. The blade hurls towards the prince''s head, aiming to stab through it. Ethan catches the chain''s teeth with his blade and bursts forward to put the man into his reach. The chain comes with Ethan, pulling the blade away from the prince.
Ethan frees his blade and swings at the man. Ethan''s opponent''s body moves to the side, as if dragged like a puppet. His last moment movements show only a fraction of a second early in Prescience, making them unpredictable.
The blade comes at Ethan''s back. He spins around, deflecting the blow. The chain curls, forming whips that spring at Ethan. He swings at each attack, deflecting the chain up and to the sides.
The prince reaches Thea, grabbing her leg, terrified. She grabs him by the shoulder to push him towards the exit.
"Kill him," the man commands, looking past Ethan.
Chapter 118: Vault – Part 3
Thea''s worried gaze unfocuses, her eyes rising to look into the distance. Her hands shift from the prince''s shoulders to his neck. The command was spoken in Eldorian, and no Ether, not even a ripple, left the man.
The serrated chain comes back at Ethan with three approaching arcs.
The captain lunges to grab Thea''s forearm. But his armored hand moves too slowly.
Ethan deflects the chain''s blows, each grinding against Phantom Reaver as the teeth try to bite into the blade. He glances back at Thea, her left hand grabbing the prince''s head as her right hand holds his neck. Close enough to reach Thea, the prince, and the captain, Ethan snaps his fingers to cast Silence.
Thea''s gaze stays unfocused; she jerks the prince''s head to the side. A crack splits the air as his neck snaps.
The regent moves to the platform''s edge, as far away from Ethan and the man as possible. He glances at his daughter, inexpressive.
"You are free," the man says, a smile growing on his face. He lashes his right arm to the side, and his chain whips at Ethan.
Ethan cancels Silence and coats his sword with flames. He bursts forward, deflecting the chain out of his way. He grabs Phantom Reaver with both hands and, aiming to neutralize him for interrogation, swings at his legs.
The man''s body is pulled back, escaping Ethan''s reach. His chain and blade pull back into his sleeve, and he melts into the ground''s darkness.
Thea''s eyes fall on her brother''s lifeless body as it escapes from her grasp. Her breath catches in her throat, her hands trembling as they hover over him. Her knees give out, and she collapses beside him, her face twisting with anguish.
The man rises from the shadows beside Thea and replaces his coat. He glances at his torn left sleeve, revealing another chained blade hidden there. He looks up at Ethan. "A nasty pet you have in your shadow."
Russ leaps out from the darkness to place himself beside Ethan. He growls at the man, his head twitching between him and the regent.
The captain raises his halberd to strike at the man''s head.
"Stop," the man commands, glancing back at the captain.
The captain freezes in place, his halberd held above his head for a bisecting blow.
The man looks back at Ethan, certain the captain will not attack him. "If you hadn''t mingled with our affairs, I could have left everyone alive, but you are too much to handle."
''If he could control me like them, he would have done so already.'' Ethan thinks. He notices a twitch in the man''s expression as he hides a smile. "The prince wasn''t a danger to you. You killed him because you like it."
The man''s lips curl into a wicked smile. He places his hands down on Thea''s shivering shoulders. "I didn''t kill him; she did. Imagine the guilt she must feel, breaking her dear brother''s neck like that. I wonder if it was a clean snap or if it was gradual, like tearing off a chicken''s leg."
The many memories of the experience surface in Ethan''s mind. Despite his focus, the feeling of breaking enemies'' necks echoes from his hands and into his ears. A coldness creeps from the base of his spine, and he sees the man''s smile widening.
"I knew it," the man sneers. He glances back at the captain and orders, "Kill yourself."
''Shadow,'' Ethan orders. He bursts forward to capitalize on the man looking away. He swings to take his right arm, but the chains spring out of his sleeves to block Ethan. The combined strength of both chains pushes Ethan back. His feet grind against the platform''s ground.
The man controls the chains for them to circle both him and Thea. Before she can glance up at the ensnaring, serrated chains, he places a hand on her head. Her eyes go wide as she falls unconscious.
"What are you doing?!" the regent barks.
"A little probing now that I know she knows about my master," the man answers. Thea''s eyes twitch from side to side as he contracts his fingers.
The captain grabs his halberd at the base of its head and presses the spear tip against his mail-protected neck.
Ethan watches the pattern of his chains, trying to find an opening wide and lasting enough to attack. They move erratically, changing speed and form with sudden jerks.
"Kael!" the regent bellows, earning him nothing but a murderous glare.
"Your daughter has been busy," the man begins. "I wonder how it must have felt ¨C spying and planning against you for an entire decade. Do you think it tore her apart? Pretending all this time to not know, to still love you as a father? Or maybe she still does; after all, family is a hard bond to break."
Ethan lunges, pushing Strengthening to its soft limit for a sudden burst of speed. His blade cuts through the air, its burning edge aimed at Kael''s neck. The man''s ability to read memories is enough to convince Ethan that keeping him alive for interrogation is too dangerous. The regent''s knowledge will have to do.
The chains lash out at Ethan, blocking his attack but opening the cage they formed around Thea and the man.
''Martial skill echo,'' Ethan thinks. His ghost manifests at the man''s back with Aranthor''s lightning sword in hand. It swings at Kael''s unguarded side, aiming for his liver.
Two chains ended by blades spring out of Kael''s back, tearing off his coat. They stab into Ethan''s ghost''s shoulders, stopping his attack.
Ethan dispels his ghost before the chains ravage it like chainsaws. He follows up his first swing by summoning Aranthor''s blade in his left hand for a thrust.Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.
Stormshard (long sword)
Once wielded by King Aranthor Elarion, this long sword is forged from pure spark steel. When infused with Ether, the blade summons lightning along its edge.
This weapon has been enchanted with [Sharpness (B)], and [Durability (B)].
This weapon has been runically enchanted to enhance its ability to transmute electricity from Ether.
The soul of a Volkrid has been bound to this weapon, enhancing its ability to transmute electricity from Ether.
The hollow fuller of the silvery blade fills with crackling lightning arcs as Ethan feeds his Ether to the sword. He can sense the threads moving along Aetherian runes carved into the blade before vanishing and turning to electricity.
Two chains meet Ethan''s attack, guiding the blade upward with rushing teeth.
Ethan follows the deflection''s upward impulse by rotating his torso and swinging Phantom Reaver up from the side. The blade strikes Kael''s chest, snapping four of the bones making his breastplate. Ethan can feel Phantom Reaver digging through flesh, but the absence of blood disappoints him.
The flying, shattered bones of Kael''s breastplate shed with a grinding sound to form levitating spikes. Like bullets, they burst forward with a thunderclap.
Able to see them, Ethan twists his body out of the spikes'' paths.
The projectiles bounce off the circular room''s edge, flying off in different directions. They arch back, their speed diminished.
Kael''s four chains fall on Ethan, tearing off the remains of Kael''s coat in the process.
Ethan dashes to the side, avoiding the quadruple blow as the chains slam into the ground.
The bone spikes fly back at Ethan, coming from all directions in curving paths.
Ethan bursts forward at Kael. He swings at the front coming projectile, deflecting the spike to the side.
Kael''s chains rise from the ground, line up vertically, and swing towards Ethan. Their movements are more obvious than before but executed with far superior strength.
Ethan jumps above the chains and spins around to meet the remaining spikes. He slashes at the closest with Phantom Reaver and then at the two others in a cross attack with both blades. It deflects them away, and Ethan lands behind Kael.
Kael isn''t handling the chains with his arms; they connect in pairs to two vertebrae between his shoulder blades. His armor opens in a ''V'' shape from his lower back. They act like added limbs, but with invisible muscles around each link.
''Tackle,'' Ethan thinks. He lunges at Kael''s back before he can turn, thrusting Phantom Reaver at the unprotected base of his neck.
The two bottom chains fall dead to the ground as the bone projectiles plummet down. The two other chains spring towards Ethan with renewed speed in a rotating pattern, catching Ethan''s blade.
Ethan unsummons Phantom Reaver to free himself and twists his body to swing with Stormshard.
The two dead chains rise from the ground as the ones who ensnared Phantom Reaver die. They fold around Kael''s back to drag their teeth like chainsaws and swing at Ethan''s legs.
Having committed fully to his attack, Ethan is unable to redirect his already-too-high swing. He twists with violence, spinning all the way around and catching the chains.
The chains wrap around Stormshard in a sudden spin.
Ethan twists his body upward, avoiding the chains that would have caught his legs along with the blade. He unsummons Stormshard and brings back Phantom Reaver.
Russ'' enlarged maw rises from around Kael''s right foot and snaps around his leg. It keeps Kael in place as his body tries to drift to the side.
Ethan spins in the air, swinging his blade at Kael''s neck.
Kael tears off his own leg at the knee as his body is pulled to the side. He ducks, or rather his head is dragged towards the ground, avoiding the blow.
''Shadow,'' Ethan orders as he passes over his target. He extends his left hand and throws a lightning bolt at Kael. It strikes him in the chest, but the arcs coil around his body and into a ring on his right hand.
"Everyone knows any self-respecting warrior must shield himself against those fast, lightning spells." Kael giggles as he straightens, ignoring his missing limb. Only a few drops of blood leave the wound, dripping on the black ground. Glancing at it, he snaps, "Wonderful! Do you know how long it took me to grow this body?!"
"I take it it isn''t yours," Ethan says. He circles Kael, his eyes trained on the chains that move around him. The man isn''t hindered by a missing limb or a cut, meaning only total destruction will suffice.
The room''s circular platform narrows by a meter as its external perimeter, with the exception of the path to the door, grinds downward.
The regent climbs back to the remaining platform before it descends too much. His gaze clings to Thea as she lies unconscious on the ground.
Thea is still breathing, but blood drips from her nose and mouth, showing potentially dangerous injuries.
"It belonged to a rat," Kael begins, his tone returning to his monotone chalk-on-board torment. "A kid whose only saving grace was his genetics ¨C tall, muscular, good characteristics, and Ether-blessed; like yours."
"Do you want it? I have to object; I have plans to use it for quite a while," Ethan retorts. Dragging the conversation is dangerous with Kael''s mind control, but Ethan is still seeking an opening.
"Your consent isn''t required," Kael threatens. "You don''t ask someone''s permission before you kill them, do you?"
Flashbacks of countless assassinations flicker in Ethan''s mind. The cold creeping up his spine rises to the base of his brain.
"You must have murdered so many people to give me such a grip," Kael sneers.
Ethan summons Dark Fate, hiding it behind his forearm, and stabs the tip into himself. Dark Ether pools in his hand, and he absorbs it, readying himself to cast a hex.
"Your mind is like a fortress; I didn''t take you for a man of faith. But I can still see a few faces through. There is daddy; I must admit you look very much alike." A black mist rises from his body to cover him; he reemerges with the appearance of One. "And a what I think is a son; must be adopted though."
Ethan breaks through Strengthening''s limit; he must end the man now. He bursts forward, swinging at the chains as they block his path. The chains stopping him, Ethan releases his hex. It digs into Kael''s disguised body, but the chains do not waver.
"Not even a figment of hesitation," Kael says. He approaches, his body mimicking walking as if both his legs were still there. "I show you the face of a person you care deeply for, and you would arm him without a second thought?"
''Weapon aura,'' Ethan thinks as he simultaneously casts Flame. His blade coats with a layer of Ether ¨C threads buzzing along its length. The flames camouflage the blade''s aura, engulfing the underlying layer of Ether.
The bone projectiles, who lay immobile, spin towards Ethan and burst forward, aimed at his sides.
Ethan disengages backward and swings in the air. A blazing blade of Ether prolongates his slash, passing through the chains'' links. It crashes against Kael''s body, cutting a gash into his chest. It isn''t deep, but by its length it would be a serious injury to any normal man.
Kael cowers back, the chains forming a wall before him. He touches the sizzling wound, and a figment of cauterizing blood sticks to his fingers.
Ethan swings at the air, casting several blades that pass Kael''s defense.
They are too slow for him, and he dodges them with side glides. He brings the bone spikes around himself, trained on Ethan. "Everyone knows you shouldn''t do that with Strengthening; rookie mistake. It''s all good as long as you maintain it, but it hinders your other abilities. You could have cut clean through me if you gave all that to Weapon Aura."
''No choice now; I can''t have him keep talking,'' Ethan thinks. Flooding his mind with images of Caelum, he summons his lifeforce. The flames coiling around Phantom Reaver shift to blue, their heat filling the room.
"You are capable of that too?" Kael asks. He giggles once more, keeping his eyes on Ethan. The chains darken as a dark-green mist appears from the bones that make them. His armor breaks into a dozen shards that shed to form more spikes covered in the same mist. "I cannot wait to have you in my collection."
Chapter 119: Vault – Part 4
"Let''s see how long your life force can burn," Kael mocks. His chains lunge at Ethan like serpents, aiming for his arms and legs.
Ethan swings his blade at a speed that breaks the sound barrier with each redirection. He deflects each of Kael''s blades, sending them to the sides. The green mist covering them stops the blades of Ether he propels. He leans forward and bursts through Kael''s attack, deflecting away the serrated chains that come his way.
Kael retreats, his smirk faltering. The bone spikes shoot towards Ethan through the tunnel of chains.
Relying on Prescience, Ethan cuts through the spikes in consecutive blows, shattering them. The mist that surrounded them grazes Ethan; it burns the outer layer of his coat like acid. Patches of the dark cloth cover melt away to reveal the underlying leather.
Kael''s chains pull back to spiral in front of him. The force puppeteering his body pulls him away, dragging him backward to escape Ethan''s reach. The mist thickens around the chains, forming a wall of gaseous acid.
The mist didn''t explode when struck, convincing Ethan he won''t risk a secondary explosion. He pries the flames from his blade and gathers them into his left hand, willing them into a fireball. In normal circumstances, a fireball would be dangerous to use in such an enclosed space. But, as experience showed, life force gives it a different behavior. As Ethan hurls it forward, his spell turns into an ionizing beam of light.
Kael''s eyes widen as he amalgamates the chains to intercept. The scorching ray collides with the spiraling chains, the impact bellowing with a roaring shockwave.
The outer explosion consumes the wall of mist while its core pierces through the chains like a melting sabot round. It stabs through his chest and vaporizes a hole through his lower abdomen.
Kael''s chains writhe like living creatures in pain, each losing more than half of its length where the spell pulverized links. Kael grits his teeth, his face taking on for the first time a human expression ¨C fury.
Ethan''s blade coats with blue fire as he restores his spell and swings for Kael''s head. His speed overwhelms the man, and he slices through Kael''s neck before following with his shoulders.
The chains whirlwind around Kael, forcing Ethan back before his next strike aimed at bisecting Kael''s torso. The man''s head and arms tumble through the air, and yet he stands upright, ignoring the pain of his burning flesh. His body distorts and explodes, propelling each of his bones like a grenade. The gore projectiles shed into sharp weapons ¨C ribs to scythes, long bones to spikes, flat and irregular bones to spiked fragments.
''I need the regent alive,'' Ethan thinks. He extends his hand and casts a shield around the explosion, trapping the projectiles. It shakes under their combined impact and their ricochets on its inner surface.
The bones seem alive, bouncing in the shield with unwavering speed.
Still drawing on his life force, Ethan wills the shield to shrink. It closes in on the bones until they are left with too little space to fly. He crushes them against one another, breaking the weapons Kael made of them.
The coldness that crept along Ethan''s spine and brain recedes as Kael''s bones stop struggling.
Ethan unsummons his shield and swallows the pile of crushed bones with the last of his blue flames. Their form vanishing, he stops using life force and his abilities, leaving his body drained. Burning any more life force would risk sending him into a coma. The combined backlash of overloading Strengthening and using life force brings him to one knee. Breathing heavily, Ethan leans on his blade to steady himself.
The regent strides towards Thea and grabs her by the arm. He lifts it over her shoulder and walks off, dragging her in her unconscious state.
Ethan casts a debilitating hex on him, stopping him in his tracks. His heart protests the use of Ether with a stabbing pain, reducing the hex''s power.
Thea falls back alongside her brother''s corpse as the regent lacks the strength to hold her.
The regent barks, "How are you even moving? Do you know who I am?!"
Ethan forces himself to stand, his legs and arms still drained and sluggish. Heat radiates from his skin as anger tries to take hold of his mind. He asks, "Where is Caelum Cindralis? Where is your master?!"
"You underestimate my loyalty, peasant!" the regent barks. He struggles to move his left hand to a pouch in his coat. Even without predator''s sight, Ethan can see the regent''s veins pulsating at a racing pace. He isn''t on a prideful rant; he wants to anger Ethan, so he won''t notice his next move.
"Regicide doesn''t speak well of one''s loyalty." Ethan tries to trigger Prescience, but his heart bursts with pain and refuses to draw in any more Ether than for his hex. He visualizes Dark Fate to summon and throw the dagger at the regent''s wrist but is taken aback by a whine.
Russ squeals inside of Ethan''s shadow ¨C the kind of sound he only makes when faced with something new and terrifying.This book is hosted on another platform. Read the official version and support the author''s work.
''Russ, heel,'' Ethan commands.
Russ leaps out of Ethan''s shadow and growls at it, as if something else was on the other side.
A layer of shadowed mist rises from the ground, bubbling around Ethan''s feet.
Ethan dashes away, Russ following, and readies his blade for something lunging at him. He loathes his inability to see in that shadowed realm. He thinks, ''Maybe if I use Soulsight; but right now, I can''t while maintaining my hex. When will you die?!''
Ethan''s thoughts are cut abruptly as the regent exhales as if stabbed. Ethan looks back at the man to see the regent''s face and hands wither. He falls to the ground, his body dried of all moisture.
The blackened mist falls back into the ground, vanishing from sight.
The prince, his head hanging from his broken neck, steps out from behind the regent. His childish voice mocks, "I almost forgot to kill him on my way out. Who would trust such a coward to keep his mouth shut? I''m sure a little torture would have done the trick."
His hex broken by the regent''s death, Ethan summons his dagger and throws it at the prince''s body. It impales him through the chest and throws him to the ground. The wrongness of the sight twists Ethan''s guts. He growls, "How many times do I need to kill you?"
"Who knows?" Kael quips, shrugging the corpse''s shoulders. His voice grows weaker, as if he was moving away. "I''m not in a hurry to find out. Take care of your body; I want it intact the next time we meet."
''Predator''s sight,'' Ethan thinks. Only Thea''s and Russ'' heartbeats come through; the prince, regent, and captain are dead. Apprehending Kael taking over another body, Ethan pulls out his dagger and sets the three corpses ablaze. He throws a fireball at the entrance, scorching the corpses of the captain''s subordinates for the same reason.
The mechanism of this place doesn''t show any sign of slowing down, as if its content were rising from extremely deep underground. Ethan crosses his arms, waiting.
"Melee Weapon (Long Sword) leveled up (x4). Life force manipulation leveled up," the system announces.
Russ sits beside Ethan and rubs his head against his thigh. He looks up with worried eyes.
''I know, buddy; the fact that he knows One''s and my father''s face has me worried. Caelum will be warned that I''m after him,'' Ethan mentally says to Russ. ''I''ve to warn Tombstone about it; she needs to ensure the mansion can''t lead him back to N.E.S.T. and watch for anyone looking into One.''
Russ whines, pointing with his nose at Ethan''s hand. A white glow appeared at the tip of his fingers, slowly creeping up them. A gray window appears in front of Ethan.
The Realm of Ascension is summoning you.
''Not now!'' Ethan curses. He looks around for anything that would have appeared, but only finds moving stones. ''Shadow,'' he orders, hoping Russ will be teleported with him.
Thea coughs out blood, her fingers curling into a fist as she blinks her eyes open. She shields her eyes from the light taking over Ethan''s hand. With a gulp of her own blood, Thea rises to her knees, her gaze falling on her brother''s broken, burning corpse.
''I can''t leave the vault''s contents here,'' Ethan thinks. He approaches her, unsummoning his blade. ''Kael or Caelum will come back for them. And if she takes them, even if the guard protects her, he will take it from her. She needs to flee to a place where he''ll never think of looking for her.''
Thea clutches at the ground, her fingernails scraping against the stone floor as she chokes on a sob. Her blurred gaze flickers between her brother and the remains of Kael''s chains.
''She won''t follow my idea unless I give her a reason to,'' Ethan thinks. He looks to the side, weighing the risks. ''Then she should go to him, where we''ll be able to create a trap using what he desires.''
Thea''s shaking intensifies as the flames of the pyres reflect in her glassy eyes. Her body sways, the weight of the situation overwhelming her.
"Take whatever is in this vault and go to Kingsreach; that''s where I''ll head next. If my information is right, that''s where Caelum is," Ethan whispers. He hopes Kael cannot hear him. If he''s listening, it will make setting up a trap infinitely more difficult. And that would be ignoring the fact he could ambush her on the way. "Do not tell anyone where you are going. Do not get help from anyone you already know; they will torture them to know where you went."
Thea looks up from her brother''s body and then towards her father''s burning corpse. Her eyes are bloodshot red, tears streaming down her face. Her body shudders, her mind unable to accept the situation.
The light climbs to Ethan''s shoulders. He doesn''t know for sure that she''s listening to him. He grabs her by the shoulders and repeats, "Take the vault''s contents; go to Kingsreach ¨C capital of Valloria ¨C I''ll find you there. Do you hear me?!"
Thea looks up to him, her shaking hands still hovering over her brother''s corpse. She stammers, "They are all dead."
Ethan''s jaw tightens. He knows her pain, her loss ¨C a wound that will not heal until their murderer draws his last breath. But he doesn''t have time to console her; he wouldn''t know how anyway. "They are gone," he says. "And the man who did this is still alive. You''ve one chance to make him pay; meet me in Kingsreach."
Thea''s breath hitches as she stares at him. Her eyes fill with anger, directed at Kael''s mangled remains. She asks, "It''s a nightmare; you are in my mind!" Thea grabs her blade from the ground and stands.
Ethan grabs her sword by the guard, stopping her from swinging. "It''s not. He''s gone, for now."
Thea punches Ethan in the face.
Ethan lets her hit him, but he rolls his head with the punch, reducing the impact''s force to near nothingness. He says, "I''m sorry for what happened, but if you don''t listen to me, they will find you, and you''ll be next."
Thea''s grief turns into fury as she lunges at Ethan. She swings her arm with reckless abandon, her strikes fueled by raw emotion.
Ethan sidesteps and deflects her attack with his forearm. Moving away from her, he pries her blade away from her grasp and, not wanting to be teleported with it, drops it.
"Release me!" she screams, throwing another punch at Ethan''s chest.
''Leave it,'' Ethan commands, hearing Russ growling in his mind. Ethan catches her wrist mid-swing, holding it firmly but not tightly enough to hurt her. He whispers, "I''m sorry; I know how you feel and that there is nothing I can say that would help."
"Unhand me!" She struggles against his grip, tears streaming down her face. She throws her left fist at his face, but he catches it with ease.
"You can avenge them if you help me," Ethan says. He lowers her left hand away from his face. The light climbs up to his neck, threatening to swallow him in seconds. He says, "I can''t undo what happened, but I can give you the man who did this to you."
She goes still for a moment, her chest heaving as she glares at him. Strength leaves her, and she collapses against him, her sobs muffled against his chest.
"You need to take the vault''s contents and leave. Go to Kingsreach; I''ll find you there. We''ll make them pay," Ethan assures. She falls to her knees as his body vanishes, his vision taken by a blinding light.
Sylas – Chapter 7: Survival
Sylas breathes into his hands to warm them up. Snow dots the landscape; it began to fall early in the morning and hasn''t stopped since. He glances at the lined-up men-at-arms to see them shaking.
Hawryn has been standing in front of them for ten minutes without a word. A pile of backpacks lies behind him. His gaze sweeps over the boys and then towards the two other corporals. He asks, "How long can a man survive in this cold?"
The boys look at each other, confused. Jule, who, thanks to his bulky frame, seems less sensible to the cold, steps in front of the ranks. He guesses, "A day?"
Hawryn stares at the kid for long seconds.
Tired of waiting, Storis snaps, "You are forgetting something! Get on the ground and give me fifty!"
Jule obeys without pause and starts doing pushups. A thin plume of vapor undulates along his skin as he reaches half of his punishment. And, after the last five excruciating push-ups, he rises back to his feet.
"Would you repeat your answer?" Hawryn orders.
"A day, sir," Jule stammers, out of breath.
"Three hours standing like you are," Hawryn denies. He motions for Jule to get back into the ranks. "After that your muscles will freeze, your heart and lungs will slow, and you''ll lose consciousness."
Sylas glances towards Storis and Walf. They don''t shiver, but their skin turned a shade paler. Their higher constitution must make the weather more bearable to them.
But the person who handles it the best is Liliana; leaning back on a tree, she ignores the cold. Contrary to Sylas'', her cape rests folded on her back instead of covering her.
"Aren''t you cold?" Sylas whispers in disbelief.
"Ho," she startles before bringing her cape around herself. "I hadn''t noticed. The weather changed so fast."
The morning wasn''t any warmer; the men-at-arms were shaking when they woke up. A high constitution would explain a resistance to extreme temperatures. But who wouldn''t notice that they are cold?
Hawryn continues, "Exercising like Jule just did will make you last longer. However, it is a temporary resort; isolated in the wild, you need to find shelter from the cold. Not only that, if your clothes or characteristics do not suffice, you must light a fire."
The boys are inattentive; some look to the landscape or the rare falling leaf. The information Hawryn is dispensing is strangely mundane. But his tone is of the utmost seriousness.
"In pairs, you''ll have to survive and hide for three days between these mountains. Starting tonight, we''ll be hunting you," Hawryn says. He motions behind him at the wide expanse surrounded by mountains and cliffs. From here they can see its pine forests, clearing, water streams, and lakes.
It snaps the men-at-arms to attention. Jaws hang as they take in his words. Until today they have suffered nothing but the basic training they were already undertaking in Opal. Surviving on their own must be terrifying for those who still pain to take care of themselves.
Storis chimes in, "Each of you will be responsible for your duo. If they are wounded or get sick, it''s your responsibility to call for us. Get them to a visible area; scream if you must; we won''t be far. Get them irreversibly injured or dead, and you can forget about ever becoming a guard!"
The sole reason why they can be divided by two is that one of them deserted. Was this exercise originally planned for trios? The question lingers in Syla''s mind but is soon replaced by another. He leans towards Liliana and asks, "What if whomever harassed the town comes after them?"
"Hawryn won''t hunt for the kids but for them, whoever they are, just in case," Liliana answers.
"I feel like I have been left out of a conversation or two," Sylas says.
"You have," Liliana confirms. "Because you get to participate; I doubt you ever had any survival training."
The words jolt Sylas'' blood. While it isn''t entirely true, Sylas having survived on his own between his village and the elder God''s sanctuary, he doesn''t contest. At the time he had with him a dog who was both their hunter and constant sentry. He whispers back, "I don''t see the point of this exercise for the common guard."
"Hawryn wants to know who among them could become good scouts," Liliana clarifies. "And it doesn''t hurt to have soldiers who can take care of themselves if they are their army''s sole survivors. It gives them a chance to make their way back to a town or to another army."
"Or if they become deserters," Sylas quips.
"At least they would know how to hunt instead of raiding villages for food," Liliana retorts.
All the men-at-arms choose partners among their own squad until only two are left from the intact seven-men squads. Gavriel is one of the two, and he groups with the other outlier.
Seeing the ten pairs, a question pops into Sylas'' mind. "Who is my duo?"
"Me," Liliana answers. She glances to the side to lock eyes with him. "But we get to be the hunters. Starting tonight, our job will be to catch as many of them as possible."
"Sounds like a sure way to get them to hate me even more," Sylas whispers.
"They don''t hate you," Liliana says. She looks to the side and adds, "Three of them do for sure, but the rest didn''t do anything that angered you yet."
"I''m not sure it was anger," Sylas says, still unable to understand why he reacted the way he did. "Perhaps I was¡ disappointed. After all, I am supposed to be their sergeant, whatever that entails."
"And here I thought you couldn''t stand such an insult to a noble lady''s honor," Liliana quips. She glances at him and locks her gaze onto his.
"Why not teach them what they need to know before sending them into the wild?" Sylas asks.This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.
"Changing topic, huh?" Liliana pokes. She crosses her arms and leans further on her tree while moving her gaze to the troops. "Because they wouldn''t listen. Not that we couldn''t force it into their brains through repetition and punishment, but after the next few days they will be eager to learn."
Hawryn grabs a backpack from the pile. He approaches one of the duos, hands them the bag, and points northeast. "You go first," he orders. The two boys walk off in the direction he motions at. He repeats the operation with each group in ten-minute intervals, sending them off in various directions.
"He didn''t say they couldn''t join forces between duos; is that why he sent them in different directions?" Sylas asks.
Liliana puffs. "I can already tell you none of them will think of that. Maybe the second time some will get the idea."
"That''s actually expected of them, isn''t it?" Sylas asks.
"Isolated from your army, you should try to regroup with other such allies. It drastically improves your chances," Liliana answers. "The only problem is that it makes you easier to find, which is also part of this exercise."
"But in a real scenario you would fight off the enemies who hunt you," Sylas says. He glances at Hawryn as he approaches them and imagines fighting the man. Contrary to Storis or Walf, he moves with fluidity, as if he weighed nothing. Sylas feels his chest tighten as Hawryn strides closer, his measured pace as intimidating as the claw scar crossing over his left eye.
Hawryn stops a few paces away. "Sir ¨C"
"I already told him," Liliana cuts in.
"Good," Hawryn lets out. He hands Sylas the last bag and adds, "Try not to catch them too early; it''s important they experience the harshness of surviving in the wild. But, when you do, send them back here. Walf will have made a camp to shelter and train them while they wait for the exercise to end."
"Will do," Sylas confirms, unsure of his own ability to succeed in the exercise. Thankfully, Liliana has shown remarkable knowledge in all the matters of survival so far. It should be an easy, teachable experience unless she willfully refrains from making herself useful to force him to learn on his own. "I hope you won''t run into too much trouble looking out for uninvited participants."
"Likewise, but I doubt someone who struggled to kill a Blacksmith would be hard to deal with; no offense, sir," Hawryn says.
"None taken," Sylas excuses. Hawryn revisited the town alone and most likely learned more in a few glances about the fight. "I wouldn''t want to fight you either. Where should we head towards?"
"Straight north. If I''m right about the weather, the coming winds and snow will push them towards you," Hawryn says. He draws his lips to a line before continuing. "Good luck, sergeants."
Walf hurls an axe into a tree, startling Sylas. Looking behind him, Sylas sees markings drawn in the thin snow for a rectangular building. Walf looks to the side, thinking. He calls after them. "If you find a deer or hog, bring it back so we can have good meat on the last day, sir, ma''am."
Liliana smiles and waves at him. "We''ll see what we can do."
The cold seeps into Sylas'' fingers and feet as they make their way through a snowy forest. The northern mountains loom still hours away, and the sun already threatens to vanish.
"You are awfully silent," Liliana says. Neither of them talked for the past hours. But for Sylas, it was merely because he was too annoyed by the cold biting at his face to not focus on it. She starts to say something else, but her stomach growls, overshadowing the forest''s noises.
Sylas slides the backpack''s strap off his shoulder and rummages through it for something to eat. Moving his hand around, he finds something rough and hard; he pulls it out. Surprise takes him as he sees a rock in his hand. He asks, "Was I supposed to inventory our provisions as early as possible?"
"Maybe," Liliana quips with a smile.
Sylas lets go of the rock and rummages through the bag for other surprises of the sort. One after the other, he removes three rocks from the bag, lightening it by ten kilos. He investigates the remaining provisions ¨C a flint and silex lighter, rope, a little lantern oil, slices of dried meat, and a rolled wool blanket. He takes out the meat and hands a slice to Liliana.
"You know, we might not find much to eat in the next few days," Liliana says. She extends her hand to take the slice. "You might want to ration what we have."
Her words convince him she doesn''t intend to help out much during this trip, leaving him to learn the hard way. He brings back the slice towards the bag. "Maybe we should. After all, we already ate this morning."
Liliana''s stomach growls once again as she stares at the food he holds. She still extends her hand expectantly, her shimmering eyes making Sylas think of a cat. The image forces a muted puff out of him, and he gives her the food. She quips, "You shouldn''t taunt people with food like that; some might fight you for it."
"I''m sure a noble lady like yourself wouldn''t lower herself to such primal behavior," Sylas retorts. He swings the backpack onto his back and starts walking again.
Liliana bites into the slice with relish, a playful glint in her eyes. "Oh, you''d be surprised what people are capable of when they''re hungry."
"Oh, trust me, I know," Sylas says. His village suffered more than one winter ¨C rotten storage, theft, or poor harvest leaving them with little to eat.
Liliana walks beside him, the crunch of snow underfoot the only sound between them for a moment. She finishes her snack and asks, "Hey, I didn''t want to mention it with the others around, but I''m sorry about the whole situation. You didn''t choose to become a guard, and we forced you to."
"The regent is the only one I blame," Sylas says. It seems to brighten her mood. "If anything, I should have been more cautious to not attract attention by training with the guard."
"You know, being in the guard is not so bad," Liliana says. "I wouldn''t want to be a civilian, unable to protect myself if something came after me."
Sylas stops, his mind moving to the many worries he had the past weeks. They''ve been at peace for decades, but soon, like centuries ago, portals could open onto another world. And, while like Grim they would be humans, who''s to say war won''t engulf the continent? He asks, "If your superior ¨C a lieutenant, captain, or even the regent ¨C ordered you to slaughter civilians who belong to another¡ country, would you do it?"
Liliana''s eyes move to the side as she thinks of an answer. She resumes walking and says, "I have the influence to refuse that order, not because of my rank but because of my family. Not even the regent would declare me a traitor; it would damage his image. But you are not asking this because you want to know what I would do; you think it will happen to you."
Sylas hesitates, his breath visible as he exhales deeply. "I don''t know; that''s what worries me. I don''t want to do something I''ll regret my entire life, but who''s to say I won''t yield when ordered to?"
Liliana slows down, her gaze moving to the side as she thinks. "The fact that you are worried about it tells me you wouldn''t obey orders blindly. There''d be consequences both ways. What matters is what you think is easier to live with."
"I''m not sure questioning orders is among the things you are supposed to teach me," Sylas quips.
"Who cares? If we can put some Warrior into you, that will be plenty enough." Liliana catches up with him. "It''s not like your hypothetical will happen soon anyway; it''s Orcs we will be fighting."
"What do you mean?"
"Orcs are basically monsters," Liliana lets out. She tightens her lips to a line, catching herself in saying something she didn''t want to.
"Those who attacked my village certainly behaved like monsters. Next to one of the many Orcs who live among us, they would seem like different species altogether," Sylas says. He brushes a pine branch upward to not have to crouch or deviate from his path. "Some of Edgar''s clients are Orcs ¨C mercenaries, bounty hunters, or even adventurers. They were easier to deal with than some of the humans."
"I know," Liliana begins. "It''s just hard to not think about all the reports of slaughters I read through. Small raiding parties and what amounts to bandit hideouts have always been a problem. And each time we find the remains of their victims, it''s only what hasn''t been eaten."
"Wait, that''s not a story parents tell their children to scare them from wandering off?" Sylas asks.
"Parents definitely use it; mine did anyway, but that''s also true," Liliana confirms. She opens her mouth to say something else but stops herself as she looks to the side. Holding an open hand to signal Sylas to stop moving, she scans the direction.
Snow falls off a bush as its leaves ruffle. Something moves away from it, low to the ground and hidden in the growing darkness. A twig breaks from another direction, startling Sylas as he spins to face it.
Sylas draws his sword and moves to protect Liliana''s back. The blade hums in the air as he moves, reflecting the last of the dying light.
Chapter 120: Realm of Ascension
The light filling Ethan''s eyes recedes to reveal a world of rushing smoke. Currents of grey trails follow rushing winds descending around Ethan from a black sky. They crash on invisible ground, exploding to the sides before merging and molding the scribbles of a landscape.
Colors take over the grey outlines, revealing a paved road around Ethan''s feet, bordered by stone fences and far-going fields of wheat. A mansion, its walls made of thick chunks of chiseled stones, lies at the road''s end, atop a hill.
''The realm of ascension is supposed to be a tailored challenge,'' Ethan reminisces. His body feels devoid of the feebleness of using life force, as if it had been restored. He glances over the landscape, searching for any trace of enemies with predator''s sight.
Russ opens his eyes on the surface of Ethan''s shadow to glance around and sniff the air. His presence reassures Ethan; it would have been troublesome if he remained in Opal.
A wind rattles the fields of wheat, filling the air with the noises of its presence. It moves the clouds, letting through God rays that shine upon the landscape. The peaceful sight sets Ethan on edge; reason tells him it is a ploy to get him to lower his guard.
Convinced whatever awaits him is in that solitary mansion, Ethan starts walking up the road. His mind dwells on his current worries, but he remains alert, scanning the landscape with Prescience.
''I need to find a way to immunize myself to Kael''s powers and to know who''s affected,'' Ethan thinks. ''With the average duration of the Realm of Ascension orbiting a week, it gives Kael and Caelum too much room. I have to warn Tombstone, and if I can''t make it in time to Kingsreach, Caelum could take what he needs from Thea.''
Closing in on the mansion, Ethan triggers predator''s sight to listen but hears nothing.
''Chances are she never visited Kingsreach. And even if she did, as basically a princess of another country, it would have been under official business. She wouldn''t have visited their adventurer guild. This means she''ll have some travel time. The easy way would be sailing, but it could leave too much of a trail. If she''s smart, she''ll travel by road; hiring solitary mercenaries or adventurers to escort her shouldn''t be outside her price range. It gives me time before she finds herself near him.''
A playful, childish laughter breaks Ethan''s thoughts. He looks to the side to see three children dressed in togas playing a game with small rocks.
''They weren''t there a moment ago,'' Ethan thinks. ''Illusions? Or do they have a talent to escape my abilities?''
The doors to the mansion open to reveal a corridor going to the sides and an archway leading to an inner courtyard. Plants cover the place, neatly arranged and trimmed.
A towering man sits on a bench, a book in his hand. The sight jolts Ethan''s blood as he recognizes Four. Lucian is a tall, ebony giant with a musculature that overshadows any other man.
Lucian, or rather the thing cosplaying as him, raises his gaze from the book. "I welcome you to the Realm of Ascension, Ethan Reed. I''ve been awaiting your arrival with some anticipation." His voice is the exact copy of Lucian''s, down to the most minute intonation ¨C rich and sonorous, the vowels long and rounded, and the consonants crisp.
"Why did you take his appearance?" Ethan asks. While everything else points to this being Four, Ethan knows his mentor would never be caught wearing a toga. He cannot remember a single time seeing Lucian without a trellis, costume, or military uniform.
"I took the appearance of someone you trust," the man says. "I rarely present myself to your likes. But I''ve found it makes introductions easier when I''m forced to."
Ethan stares at Lucian''s face, the blatant attempt at mind games raising his suspicions of this place.
"It displeases you," the man states.
"Very much so," Ethan confirms. "As does your mention that you''ve been watching me."
"So much animosity. I''m not your enemy, and I would have you know that I watch over everyone. You happened to catch my attention." Lucian''s form melts into smoke to reform into the smaller shape of a blond-haired, Caucasian man wearing a white toga. Gold inlays his skin, forming tattoo-like shapes over his torso, neck, and arms. His voice turns deep and resonant, yet smooth with a metallic undertone. "It is the shape of the first man I ever found respect for. Tell me, Ethan, what do you think of this place?"
The smell of the fruits growing in the yard and of baking bread reaches Ethan''s nose. The children he saw outside run from one side of the gates to the other, playfully pursuing each other with sticks. He can hear a woman humming through a window as she chops vegetables. Ethan answers. "It looks peaceful."
"I''ve come to understand this is the dream many a warrior aspires to," the man comments. He plucks a grape from its foot and flings it into his mouth. "How do you see the time when you''ll be able to lay down your blade? Or whatever you call the machines that succeeded them."
Ethan stares at him for a moment, unsure of the consequences of answering the man.
"Come on, it is no trick. I am simply curious; very few ever relinquish their calling and have their¡ happy ending," the man says. "I rarely converse with my guests. Would you be so kind as to entertain someone starved of chats like myself?"
"I¡ am unsure. A year ago, I would have told you I thought about spending my retirement on some solitary island, where I wouldn¡¯t be bothered. Now, I''m not so sure. Perhaps I want to explore the new world; it''s something I was born too late to do in mine, and it would honor my father''s memory." A question pops into Ethan''s mind, and he asks, "Are there so few people who come to this realm? Surely, you can at least talk with someone every few days."
"I usually don''t show myself to those who come to my realm, but the gift you received from the will of the world demands it. It woke me up from my slumber. Without my presence, it would interfere with this place," the man says.
''I doubt Oracle or Pastseer is what he''s referring to,'' Ethan thinks. Curious, he asks, "I have a talent whose name doesn''t show on my status. Is that what you are talking about?"
"We do not know its name, but as you might have seen or heard, it interferes with the system," the man says. He waves his hand, and a window appears in front of Ethan. "But it isn''t strong enough to repel my direct influence."
The Realm of Ascension welcomes you.
"Don''t tell me you are the system," Ethan says, a hint of apprehension crawling into his mind.
"No. My duty is to loosen the shackles put upon the worthy creations of the elder God," the man says. Smoke spews from his book to swallow the peaceful garden. The man himself vanishes, engulfed by his own spell. The outlines of the walls move away and curve, forming the tall borders of an oval arena. "And for that, user of the Arsenal class, we have to answer a question ¨C are you strong enough?"
The smells of wheat fields turn to the stenches of drying blood. A coliseum, its walls marred with giant, jagged scars and sands stained by crimson, reveals itself.
Six-legged beasts with skin made of laminar stone climb out of the cracks in the arena''s walls. Spikes cover their back, from their thick tail to the top of their heads. They form into a pack of three, prowling and growling towards Ethan. They open and snap their mastiff-like maws, revealing rows of serrated teeth.
A larger variant enters after them. It sports longer, more athletic legs from which bone spikes jut out, protecting its stone skin. Unlike its brethren, its front legs are digitigrade and end in claws with an opposable thumb. It smashes its tail against the ground, raising a cloud of sand with the caudal blade that ends it. Stone pupils narrow around its six eyes, spread along its elongated head protected by outward layers of stone.This novel''s true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there.
''Talk about an evolution; this thing is hundreds of thousands of years more advanced than the small ones,'' Ethan thinks. He extends his hand and summons Stormshard. ''I need a new spear.''
The smaller beasts stop a few paces away, growling as drool escapes their maws.
Ethan visualizes the runes of a Flame spell and lashes his hand to the side. The jet of fire he propels engulfs the hesitating monsters. It curls around their form, vanishing before taking hold of their stone skin.
"Basilisks'' second ability is Magic Resistance. But it only improves their natural talent to resist spells." The man''s voice echoes from a shaded room in the tribunes. His shadowed figure leans forward to get a better view of the battlefield. "I have little interest in abilities alien to your class."
A first basilisk lunges at Ethan, its maw opened to bite down on his chest.
Ethan swings at the creature''s head, but his blade skids against the rock skin, unable to slice it. He places his left hand on the blade''s flat and uses the weapon to stop the monster''s charge, pressing it against its jaws.
''But one of my class''s abilities is Weapon aura; isn''t that the same thing as spells?'' Ethan ponders. He jumps high to avoid a lunge from a second basilisk. Ethan unsummons his blade to replace it with the Purgatory''s Hands. ''No time to experiment; bludgeoning weapons will be best.''
"Your collection of weapons is quite impressive," the man comments.
The last third stands on its hind legs, breathing in deeply. It propels a jet of grey gas at Ethan.
Still in the air, Ethan summons a fireball and throws it at the breath attack. It explodes on contact, blasting away the gas. Ethan lands in front of the beast and, triggering Strengthening to its soft limit, punches its skull. The blow compresses the basilisk in its length; its legs give out, and it falls unconscious.
Their leader''s eyes move down to glance at the corpse, but the massive beast stays immobile.
''Is it how they behave in the wild, or is he in total control?'' Ethan rotates his torso as he hears a beast lunging from behind. His fist connects with the basilisk''s lower jaw, popping it out of the fulcrums holding it and stabbing its teeth into its upper jaw.
The wounded beast staggers back, blood drooling out of its nose and hammered-shut jaw.
The last of the smaller basilisks propels a jet of gas at Ethan.
Ethan throws another fireball, dispelling the gas. Before the blinding light of his spell vanishes, he dashes through with a punch aimed at maw''s height. The attack breaches the Basilisk''s teeth, propelling Ethan''s hand into its maw. He grabs its rasp tongue and pulls, tearing off the hunk of flesh from its owner with a geyser of black blood.
The remaining, leading beast lunges at Ethan. It extends its front claws like a predating lion, aiming to grab Ethan''s sides.
Ethan bursts through Strengthening''s limits and dashes to the beast''s back, the creature unable to adapt midair. Grabbing its tail below the blade, Ethan spins the beast and throws it at a wall.
The huge creature breaks the wall, crumbling it into giant chunks of ochre stone. Smoke rises from the fragments to climb into the room where the man resides.
The beast rolls to its feet, black blood dripping from its maw. It takes a sphinx pose, readying itself to lunge at Ethan. A low growl emanates from it, dotted by gulps of blood.
''It''s weak; I''d put it at the level of the Great Skullgor. It can''t be it,'' Ethan thinks. He triggers Weapon Aura with the Ether he can expend on top of Strengthening. Threads of Ether buzz over the gauntlet''s plates, focusing on the reinforced knuckles. ''I expected a tailored challenge adapted to my strength, but by the look of it, it seems only my class matters.''
The beast breathes in deeply, its stone-laden chest expanding with a grind. The sound of air rushing through its maw mixes with wet gurgles as its lungs struggle against the blood pooling in its throat.
Ethan bursts forward, raising with him parting waves of sand. He punches the beast''s chest, and the energy gathered on his fist prolongs the impact with a wave that pierces the creature.
The beast''s six eyes widen in unison, shaken by the pain it suffers. Its chest collapses inward, Weapon aura delivering a devastating impact that ruptures through its core.
Black blood sprays from the beast''s maw, mixing with the sand in glistening pools. The monster''s claws dig into the ground in a futile attempt to remain upright.
Not wanting to risk a last surprise from the creature, Ethan leaps into the air. His gauntlets crackle with his ability''s energy as he ascends, aiming for the head. The impact lands with a crack, the force obliterating the layers of protecting stone and spreading its brain over the arena''s walls and floor.
The beast''s body spasms once, then falls still.
"I was expecting something more on my level," Ethan comments, immediately loathing his ego.
Laughter echoes from the man. "In all the times I administered this fight, you are one of the few who succeeded without perishing once. Your strength far surpasses what is expected of you!"
"Adding the Melee Weapon (Gauntlets) skill. Based on your previous experience a level of 40 has been applied," the system echoes.
''I''ve never used gauntlets before. Is it my martial arts skills that put me to level forty?'' Ethan ponders. ''No matter, I can''t understand why One loves that kind of weapon. Their range is unbelievably short when facing something this large. I need to add a hammer to my collection.''
"An individual such as yourself, who dedicated years of his existence to hone both his body and mind, has every right to claim ascension. Step into the light and you''ll return to the mortal plane." A crack of light pierces reality a few paces from Ethan, widening into a blinding gateway. The man waves his hand, and a window appears in front of Ethan. "When people come to my realm, there is no telling if they are destined to glory; only my brother can be certain of that. But you, oh you, I know you''ll do great things, and I want nothing more than to make you my greatest work of art!"
The realm of Ascension acknowledges your strength. It offers you the blessing of a greater challenge. Should you accept it, you will be unable to leave this realm before its completion.
Do you wish to accept?
YES NO
"You sound demented," Ethan quips. He reads through the short text. "You call it a blessing, but what do I have to gain?"
"For one, I''ll mold you into an even greater warrior," the man says. "But I''ll also reveal to you information to help you on your quest."
"The system''s rewards, from my very first dungeon, tried to set me on a path. Is it the quest you are referring to? To find the Etherlight crucible? If that''s the case, I''d rather not waste time on information I''ll eventually find once I''m done with my own goals."
"I am only a shard of what you know as the system, a small cog in a titanic machine; I cannot infer its intentions." The man stares down at Ethan for a moment. "But I know enough to ensure it wouldn''t set you on a path alien to your own goals. You are right; I cannot help you in finding the betrayer."
"Cannot or will not?" Ethan asks. "You said yourself you observe all of us. I need to know where to find him, what his plans are, and how to defeat him."
"It is what you want to know, not what you need to. I''ll only give you the latter," the man retorts. He leans back into his chair. "It is the path where you are most likely to benefit us, the path that is less likely to lead to your demise."
"Can you see the future?" Ethan asks.
"Unpredictable, shifting glances of it," the man answers. "Much like yourself, many of the gods and creatures of their kind unwillingly peer into time. One after the other, we play on the chessboard that is the mortal realm with the little we predict, hoping to outplay the others."
"And revealing Caelum''s location to me would lead to a hastened confrontation in which I wouldn''t prevail. Or it would delay getting closer to finding the crucible, letting its thieves'' plan unfold unhindered," Ethan theorizes.
"I do not have the answers to those questions; nothing is set in stone," the man says. "Now, will you humor my request?"
Ethan''s finger hovers above the buttons as he weighs the risks. The warning makes him wonder how long it could take and how much time it would translate to on the other side. He asks, "How long will it take?"
"I have no certainties," the man answers.
''I''m too weak to face Caelum; there is no telling if an ascended class will be enough. New abilities, talents, or even characteristic points are more than welcome,'' Ethan thinks. ''Plus, I may be the first from Earth to be given that opportunity. There could be something as unique as predator''s sight to gain.''
"Still hesitating?" the man asks.
"It''s a risk; you could be luring me. I''ve heard stories of people vanishing for decades, stuck in or dying in your realm."
"It is entirely up to you," the man says. "It''s rare for someone to fail the usual challenges presented to them, but it happens. However, there is no such thing as death in the realm of Ascension."
"Then what happened to Sylas Hartwell''s father? The will of the world seemed quite adamant about his demise."
"He lost his mind," the man says. Smoke descends from his room to cover a section of the wall. It digs into it to form a large smithy with hundreds of blades littering the ground. A man resembling Sylas, with graying blond hair, is curled up in a corner. "He struggled with his challenge for decades, and one day he gave up. Technically he''s still here, as an empty husk of the man he once was."
"What kind of challenge left him in this state?" Ethan asks.
The smithy vanishes, turning to smoke that climbs back up into the man''s room. "Those who fight rely on the craftsmanship of others. His task was to arm another for his own quest; one by one he saw his craft betraying them. And yet, he never learned of these mistakes, never truly bettered his craft to an acceptable level."
"This is cruel, even by my standards," Ethan lets out.
"Understand that I have a role to play. Much like Kaliathra''s duty is to ensure eternal rest for the souls of your dead, I am to ensure your species'' strength. Those who cannot cut it are given infinite time to better themselves. But many of them simply lack the strength of mind."
"Why?" Ethan asks. "Why do you need to ensure mankind''s strength?"
"I will not answer this question," the man refuses. "Now, will you humor my proposition?"
"What happens if I fail?" Ethan asks.
"Then you will remain here until you succeed or until your will shatters," the man answers with finality. "But for one such as you, I doubt the latter would come to pass."
Ethan exhales and presses, ''YES.''
"Brave, as expected," the man''s voice echoes. The bright crack in space closes with a flash. He rises from his chair, appearing on the balcony with a bright smile etched on his face. "Let''s carve a legend out of you."
Sylas – Chapter 8: Survival – Part 2
A grey blur jumps at Sylas. It stabs its claws into the side of his leather breastplate. The impact, though not capable of perforating Sylas'' armor, sends him to the ground.
Sylas tries to roll to his feet, but the thing collides with him, and he''s thrown down a slope. He rolls through dried bushes, spreading powdered snow in his wake.
Liliana shouts after him, but the cracking branches and the impacts of Sylas'' body against the ground drown out her voice.
Sylas comes to a stop and jumps to his feet, snow covering his face with rasping pain. He finds himself at the edge of a clearing, searching the tree line for Liliana or the threat.
A growl rumbles from Sylas'' snow trail as a white and gray wolf prowls out of it. It bares its teeth at Sylas, each of its steps whipping Sylas'' heart to rush ever faster.
Sylas backs away into the clearing. His right, weight-bearing foot skids on the slippery ground, breaking his balance and focus.
The wolf lunges and bites down on Sylas'' arm brace. Its teeth fail to pierce Sylas'' arm, but the pressure stabs his bones with burning pain. The wolf drags Sylas to the ground, and they skid to the clearing''s center.
Sylas kicks the wolf off him, sending him flying with a satisfying crack. The force of the impact stops his glide over the ground, and he jumps to his feet. Looking down, he realizes he''s standing on ice.
The wolf comes to a stop five meters away from Sylas. It rises with a squeal, its left side collapsed by Sylas'' kick.
Liliana appears at the tree line but stops from entering the clearing. She carries the bag with her, making Sylas realize he''s missing it.
The wolf digs its claws into the ice as he growls towards Sylas, the sound mixing with gurgling blood. It drips from its maw, tainting the white ground.
Sylas breathes in deeply. The cold air freezes his lungs, but the warmth of Ether fills his heart. "Strengthening," he murmurs as he lowers himself, his blade trained on the beast.
The wolf lunges once more, but Sylas moves to the side and swings at its neck. Sylas'' blade hums as it slashes through the beast with no resistance. The wolf''s corpse falls back onto the ice and glides to almost reach Liliana.
As he tries to stop himself, Sylas'' feet slip off the ground, hurling his back onto the ice. His weight cracks the surface and plunges him into freezing water. He struggles to keep himself afloat.
A rope slams over Sylas'' shoulder. Liliana holds the other end from the tree line.
Sylas climbs out using his sword and the rope as anchors. Fearing to fall into another spot, he wraps the rope around his forearm as he approaches Liliana. Despite Strengthening, his soaked gambeson weighs him down like a frozen iron cage.
"You leveled up. You leveled up. Armor (light) leveled up. Melee Weapon (Long sword) leveled up. Unarmed Combat leveled up." the system announces.
A gust of wind rages over the clearing, striking Sylas with a sudden blizzard. It turns his hands and face to stone, making it next to impossible to move his fingers.
"You are almost there. Keep walking," Liliana calls.
The journey seems endless; each step threatens to send him back to the ground.
Sylas'' body stops shivering as he reaches Liliana. The frost seeps into his bones. His eyes fall on the bag; its strap lies on the ground, sectioned in the middle. Despite his dreadful state, the sight bugs him ¨C it doesn''t seem chewed or torn but rather clean cut.
A spasm grips Sylas'' heart as his sight blurs, as if hot air was swirling around him. The invisible hand compressing his chest tightens and is joined by another one stabbing through his brain. The pain blurs Liliana''s voice and then darkens his sight.
Sylas remembers little of the next hour. His mind only returns to him as he finds himself in front of a fire. He''s in a cavern. His soaked gambeson and shirt lie sprawled on a rock, facing the fire. He tightens the wool blanket he finds draped over himself, his body still shaking.
"Back among the living?" Liliana asks from the cavern''s mouth. She holds logs and sticks under her arm. "You shouldn''t swim in this season; it''s too cold."
"I''ll remember," Sylas humors.
"What''s with the scars?" Liliana asks.
Sylas'' exposed torso reveals the many scars on his forearms. He explains, "A Skullgor dragged me down a tunnel."
"How did you get out of that?" she asks, placing down her load of firewood.
"An adventurer was escorting me; he killed their leader, and they fled," Sylas admits.
"You were lucky," Liliana comments as she walks back outside. "I saw some wild berries on the way back; I''ll go get them."
Sylas follows her with his gaze until she''s gone and looks down at the bag. He lifts it and looks at the bag''s strap; it''s torn, leaving two halves with chewed edges.
"Why does it bother me so much?" Sylas mutters as it places it back down. He approaches his hands from the fire, exposing his palms to warm them up. Having delayed it for what now seems too long, he opens his status to spend his characteristic points.
Sylas Hartwell
Lv.24/24 (Blacksmith) Human
Lv.4/24 (Arcane Smith)
Strength: 19 + Charisma: 10 +
Dexterity: 15 + Perception: 13 +
Constitution: 17 + Willpower: 13 +
Intelligence: 13 +
Available characteristic point(s): 7
Talents
Greater potential
Rapid growth
Titles
Bright steel artisan
Goblin hunter
Hobgoblin hunter
Iron artisan
Leather artisan
Steel artisan
Warg hunter
Abilities
Elemental forging (F)
Enchanting (F)
Heat resistance (E)
Identification (E)
Magic resistance (F)
Mending (F)
Reverse engineering (E)
He stares at his unspent points. It seems like both a lot and so few, especially since they are the firsts he had for years. These are supposed to be rare and precious; once he uses them, there is no going back.This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.
His gaze drifts towards charisma, his lowest stat. It feels wrong, shameful even, to have such a low characteristic. Not that his intelligence of thirteen makes him feel any better. The stat always felt useless to him who stayed in his forge with little exterior contact. But he finds himself in a commanding role, one that demands persuasion, intimidation, and perhaps deception.
"Hmm¡" he mutters, his thoughts spiraling. His charisma rose by one once his elocution improved, but how long would he need to train it any higher? On the other hand, raising his strength, dexterity, and constitution would be immediately useful. Not only that, it would also align with his class.
"That''s a lot of characteristic points," Liliana says, startling Sylas.
He glances to the side to find her looking over his shoulder, snacking on cranberries. "How long have you been standing there?" he asks.
"Long enough to see you debating like you''ll die if you misuse them. Let me guess¡" Her eyes scan over his characteristics and titles. "You''re thinking about whether to spend points on charisma."
"I was ¨C" he starts defensively.
"¨C about to skip it and dump everything into strength and constitution," she finishes. "Typical meathead Warrior. I''m sure that''s what the boys would do," she quips with a smile. She places her remaining handful of berries in his hands. "Let me make this easy for you: put some into charisma. You''ve men to command now, and it''ll give you better chances with women. You wouldn''t want to end up alone, would you?"
"I could always find a tutor to train me in all the matters of etiquette, flattery, confidence, and wooing," Sylas retorts, hurt by her comment.
Liliana chuckles as she splits a log with her sword and places its halves in the fire. The thin blade bears inscriptions along its fuller. Sylas has no time to read them before it''s sheathed. "Like you''ll take the time when you could spend it in a forge. Do yourself a favor and spare yourself the months, if not years, of effort with a push or three of a plus."
Sylas opens his mouth to argue but finds no retort. She isn''t wrong; his life revolves around his craft, and he has no greater want than to go back to it. "Fine," he mutters before mouthing the berries. He presses on the charisma''s plus three times and distributes the remaining four to even his strength and constitution at twenty.
Warmth spreads through Sylas. His muscles swell beneath his skin, tickling his entire body. His aches from the cold and hunger melt away. He exhales, caught off guard by the sensations.
His reflection in a puddle by the fire catches his eyes. Leaning closer, he notices the faint acne scars dotting his cheeks fading. He touches his jawline, finding it ever so slightly sharper.
"Already looking better," Liliana quips, making him wonder how much charisma her spotless skin needed. "Even your resting face looks more commanding."
"My resting face?" Sylas asks, looking back into the puddle.
"You can''t see it; it''s the face we make when we don''t think about it. Like how bovine some of the boys look when you aren''t talking to them," Liliana says.
"What did I look like?" Sylas asks, suddenly self-conscious.
"Tired, I think. But that''s not the case anymore, so you don''t have to worry about it," Liliana quips.
"So, the system thinks charisma is all about beauty? That''s disheartening," Sylas comments.
"You''ll see when it comes to it, but now you''ll struggle less often to find your words, and you''ll be less stressed about speaking your mind." Liliana looks out of the cavern where the snow stopped falling. "But if you go the other way around, the system still rewards you with a bit more beauty. To make it official, I guess."
Sylas closes his status and drags the bag to him to grab a bite. Another of the four slices of dried meat vanished, leaving only two for tonight.
Liliana''s stomach growls. She places her hand over it to silence the echoing noise. "I already ate my share; go ahead."
"We need to hunt something tomorrow," Sylas comments. He gives her one of the remaining slices and bites down on his own.
"We could set up snares, but we already ate the bait we could have used," Liliana jokes. "Too bad the guard''s kit doesn''t have a bow; that would have been useful."
The idea of a bow grows in Sylas'' mind as he slowly chews at the piece of dried meat. Done, he rises from his stone seat and grabs his dried shirt to let go of the blanket. He walks towards the cavern''s mouth, decided to gather the necessary materials.
"Where are you going?" Liliana asks. She stands up to follow him. "You just avoided freezing alive."
Outside, Sylas doesn¡¯t feel cold; truthfully, he is ashamed of his earlier body''s weakness. How could he fall unconscious so fast? Even with his gambeson drenched, he should have held up longer than a few minutes. As a precaution, he triggers Strengthening to his current limit. His muscles warm up, casting a plume of vapor that rises from his entire body. "Don''t worry, I won''t go farther than the wolf I killed."
"What do you want with it?" Liliana asks, following Sylas along the frozen lake''s edge.
Before he can explain, Sylas'' eyes fall on Liliana''s sheath, drawn by a speck of red on its locket. It looks like fresh blood, still shimmering in the moons'' light.
"Was there another wolf? This one attacked me from the opposite side of the original movement we saw," Sylas asks.
"If there was another one out there, it didn''t attack me," Liliana answers.
Why would she lie? Doubt fills Sylas'' mind, but he doesn''t let it show in his expression. He glances back at the lake''s edge, where he finds traces in the snow. There is a large imprint made by a fallen man, most likely himself, and sets of footprints. There are too many prints and traces for Sylas to infer anything.
"Everything alright?" Liliana asks, likely wondering why he became silent.
"Do you have a knife?" Sylas asks, extending an open hand. Confronting her now would only create turmoil for the next few days, even if the truth is something innocent.
Liliana slides her left hand into her right arm brace and retrieves a hidden dagger. She spins it to hold it by the blade and hands it to him. "We shouldn''t eat that. Predators tend to carry diseases and parasites."
"I know," Sylas says. He grips the dagger and crouches by the wolf''s body. Setting the blade against its throat, Sylas makes a clean incision along the beast''s length.
Liliana stays silent, but he can feel her eyes on him.
Sylas focuses on his work, letting the rhythmic scrapes of steel against skin drown out his doubts about her.
"You don''t feel cold?" Liliana asks.
"No," Sylas replies. "Even though it''s only a side effect, my ability is even making it a bit hot."
Liliana raises an eyebrow at his comment but says nothing. Her gaze lingers on him before shifting to the tree line, her posture tense.
The forest is quiet, save for the usual late-day sounds of animals and wind dampened by the woods.
Sylas continues skinning the wolf. The pelt resists, clinging to the muscle beneath, but Strengthening makes quick work of it. Steam rises from the exposed flesh of the wolf as the cold air fills with its lingering warmth.
"It''s weird for a Blacksmith to have Strengthening," Lilina comments.
"I learned it from a book," Sylas answers. He opens the legs to unfurl the pelt down to its knees.
"Do you want to make a coat out of it?" Liliana asks.
"No," Sylas answers. "At least not now; and I don''t need it to make bows."
"Then why do you bother? We''ll have to drag it with us for two days, and it will stink if you put it in the bag."
"I''ll hang it below the bag once I''ve cleaned it. It''s too cold for it to rot in a few days anyway," Sylas says. "If you kill something, you should make the best use of it."
"Skinning leveled up."
An idea sparks in Sylas'' mind. He cuts through the wolf''s stomach, opening it in its length and revealing its guts and ribs. Through them he makes sure to note the location of its heart, lungs, liver, and more. He imagines how he should attack it to stab the organs with a blade or pierce them with an arrow. It takes him longer than when Grim explained it, but he finds enough similarities with a Warg.
"You obtained the Wolf hunter title. One characteristic point has been granted," the system announces.
"What are you doing?" Lilana asks.
"Getting a hunter achievement; a characteristic point is always good to take, isn''t it?" Sylas answers.
"How? It''s not like you killed hundreds of wolves in your life; what good does it make to open one up?" she asks.
Mimicking stabbing with her dagger, Sylas explains the angles in which she could attack to stab specific organs of the wolf.
Liliana looks to the side, hearing something Sylas cannot. Her mouth opens, then closes as she searches for her words. "You have no idea how much work you saved me. It takes me months of training, tutoring, and effort to raise a characteristic by a single point!"
"It''s nothing. Really," Sylas says as he hands her the dagger back. "The adventurer who escorted me showed me how it''s done."
"It''s not nothing. But it explains why you have so many of them," Liliana says, shaking Sylas by the shoulders. "Too bad you only get rewards for the first ten; otherwise, I would be scouring the land to dissect them."
"What''s with the limit?" Sylas asks. He pries out one of the wolf''s largest teeth, planning to use it for the arrows.
"It just is," Liliana answers. "It''s like your artisan talents. Technically, you can combine both for twenty points total."
"Sure, but the artisan ones take way longer. You must understand the material completely to get them," Sylas comments.
"You''ve got your entire life for that," Liliana quips. "Well, when you are not working for us."
Chapter 121: Realm of Ascension – Part 2
The man brings his book outside of his room''s shade; smoke spews out of its pages, swallowing the arena. The walls melt away to reveal an endless landscape that unveils into sand dunes. A second sun rises from the horizon to meet its early morning brethren, raising the temperature to suffocating levels.
Ethan looks around to find no trace of greenery. Only brown or coal-like, thorned shrubs persist, small and rare. The threads of Ether he drew upon resorb and move away to vanish in the distance.
The man appears at Ethan''s side. "Welcome to Varnokh, cradle of the Orcs. It''s the world that molded their species, and many others to physical heights that rivaled Ether when the planes aligned."
"Am I to fight a horde of them without Ether?" Ethan asks. He triggers predator''s sight for a split second to scan the lifeless landscape. It uses a fraction of his heart''s Ether ¨C a minuscule portion compared to when the Earth was deprived of Ether.
"You are to survive till sundown," the man corrects. He looks at the suns rising from the horizon and melts into descending smoke.
''Looking at how fast they move, it shouldn¡¯t take much longer than on Earth,'' Ethan notes. He looks back at his elongated shadow to find Russ'' eyes scanning the landscape. ''I hope it''s not too hot in there.''
''Inventory,'' Ethan thinks to remove his thick coat. It doesn''t disappear. Ethan sighs deeply and extends his hand to summon a bottle of water, but once again nothing happens. He visualizes the sigils of a Flame spell and summons an ember in his palm. ''Great, of all the abilities I could do without in a desert, it had to be the one keeping my supplies. Look at me ¨C already so accustomed to it I didn''t expect and plan for the eventuality where abilities would be taken from me.''
Ethan scans the horizon again, searching for shade; there is nothing but endless dunes. He starts walking, hoping to find shelter before midday when the already burning heat will become unbearable.
The suns'' heat beats down relentlessly. Ethan''s clothes stick to his sweat-drenched skin as vapor escapes him, and his throat feels like it''s coated with dust.
Ethan''s entire body and mind throb with heat, his heavy breathing doing little to dispel it. He summons his status and moves his finger to allow his seven characteristic points into constitution but stops himself.
Ethan Reed
Lv.16 (Harbinger) High-Human
Lv.20/20 (Arsenal)
Strength: 34 + Charisma: 15 +
Dexterity: 23 + Perception: 23 +
Constitution: 32 + Willpower: 26 (24) +
Intelligence: 25 +
Available characteristic points: 7
Talents
Bond unseen lineage
Oracle
Pastseer
Rapid martial growth
???
Titles
Ascended skill ¨C Melee weapon (great sword)
Ascended skill ¨C Melee weapon (long sword)
Ascended skill ¨C Melee weapon (saber)
Ascended skill ¨C Melee weapon (short sword)
Dungeon conqueror (D)
Dungeon conqueror (E)
Dungeon conqueror (F)
Conqueror of the labyrinth of death
Conqueror of the first labyrinth
First dungeon conqueror (D)
First dungeon conqueror (F)
First hunter
First monster tamer
Goblin hunter
Hobgoblin hunter
Human hunter
Kin slayer
Kobold hunter
Skeleton hunter
Slayer of the first incursion
Warg hunter
Abilities
Anonymity (E)
Identification (F)
Inventory (F)
Insight (F)
Martial skill echo (F)
Piercing shot (E)
Predator''s sight (E)
Prescience (F)
Silent steps (F)
Soulsight (C)
Spell casting (E)
Strengthening (E)
Weapon aura (F)
Russ
Lv.20/20 (Ambush predator) Death hound
Lv.12/20 (Death hound)
Bonded: Ethan Reed (Obedience 95)
Strength: 21 Charisma: 6
Dexterity: 24 Perception: 31
Constitution: 20 Willpower: 14
Intelligence: 6
Talent
Ascendant
Abilities
Aura of dread (F)
Banshee howl (C)
Camouflage (F)
Growth (E)
Hunter''s mark (F)
Poisoned natural weapons (F)
Shadow blend (F)
Shadows'' embrace (F)
Silent steps (F)
Territory (F)
''This might require both strength of body and mind. Besides, it wouldn''t put me at risk of being taken over by Maelor, at least for a while,'' Ethan thinks. He spends all his points ¨C four on constitution and three on willpower.
The heat becomes slightly more bearable. But it is only a matter of time before the rising suns raise it to higher levels; Ethan needs to find shelter and a source of water.
After what feels like hours, Ethan pauses, shielding his eyes from the glare of the twin suns. His vision wavers, the heat distorting the dunes into undulating shapes. For a moment, he thinks he sees something ¨C a dark shape in the distance. He knows better than to get his hopes up in a desert; heat and the human mind tend to create promising illusions.
The journey feels eternal. Every step fills his clothes with a few more grains of scraping sand. The suns climb higher, and Ethan feels his skin burning, his vision narrowing. His breaths come shallow and quick, and his head throbs with dehydration.
The dark spot grows smaller as Ethan approaches, until it is no more than ten centimeters high. His gaze falls on the shimmering reflection of sunlight on the clear surface of a puddle sheltered by an overarching rock. It holds no more water than a bottle. Nevertheless, it is a welcome sight. Suspicious, Ethan lowers himself beside the minuscule oasis to examine its contents.
A deep voice barks strange words from atop a small hill. An Orc, massive in height and stature, stands there. His gray, muscled body is covered by armor made of pelts and bones; a skull with eight eye sockets serves as his shoulder pad.
''Guess I''m not the only one without water,'' Ethan thinks. Glancing over his shoulder, he notices that the suns reached their zenith. He stands back up, raising to the Orc''s eye level.Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.
The Orc scans Ethan with his yellowed eyes; his gaze moves to Ethan''s waist, searching for a non-existent weapon. His right hand on the handle of his massive, sheathed blade, he draws another, shorter one. It resembles a gladius, with a dark gray blade that thins in the center before widening until the pointy tip. The Orc throws the gladius at Ethan''s feet and unsheathes a long, blackened cleaver from his hip.
"Chivalry? Well, I didn''t expect that; my previous encounter with your kind left me with a more barbaric image," Ethan says. Walking away from the water to not pollute it with sand, he picks up the blade and examines it. The edges, otherwise sharp, are chipped in a few places, and rust invited itself where the blade meets the guard.
The Orc shifts his stance, sinking his bare feet into the sand. His yellowed eyes lock onto Ethan, and a guttural growl escapes his throat. He doesn''t move with the sound; rather, it looks like a taunt Ethan cannot understand.
Ethan rolls his shoulder to loosen them. His limbs feel stiff and heavy. Spinning the blade in his hand, Ethan tests its balance and finds it lacking.
The Orc moves first, closing the distance with surprising speed compared to the ones Ethan faced before.
Ethan sidesteps, but the loose sand beneath his feet betrays him. His boot sinks, delaying his movement, and the cleaver grazes his coat. He lowers his center of gravity, adapting his moves to rely less on the shifting ground.
The Orc swings his cleaver in a wide arc, aiming to cut Ethan''s chest.
Ethan ducks low and uses the glaive to deflect the attack upward. The heavy blade passes above him, opening the Orc''s guard. As he straightens back up, Ethan thrusts at the Orc''s chest. The blade crashes against the monster''s skin without piercing.
The Orc flies backward three meters, propelled by Ethan''s attack. He snarls and lunges again, his cleaver coming down in an overhead strike.
Ethan sidesteps the Orc''s attack and uses a burst of Strengthening to slash at his left thigh. The blade bites into the creature''s flesh, and the Orc roars in pain.
The Orc slashes blindly as he retracts his leg away from Ethan. His wide, violent attacks throw sand around, clouding their forms.
Ethan uses the opening to disengage. His lungs burn, his muscles scream, but he forces himself to stay focused on the fight.
The Orc charges again, his movements slightly slowed by his wounded leg. He leaps out of the sand cloud, holding his blade overhead for a downward slash.
Ethan times his reaction to avoid with minimal effort. He breathes in deeply, trying to regain his strength and clear his mind from the desert''s heat.
The Orc''s assaults turn relentless, his breaths shallow and hastened, and his attacks crude. Like Ethan, he suffers from the heat and perhaps dehydration.
''I bet you didn''t expect this fight to drag on. This is a pain; I won''t hold much longer either, and the suns are far from setting,'' Ethan thinks as he dodges. To the best of his understanding, this place must be a recreation made by the realm of ascension. Is the goal to test his body to its limits? It would explain the choice made of denying him Ether; he must preserve the little he has.
The Orc brings his blade to his side and swings from below. The attack catches the desert''s ground and propels a cone of sand towards Ethan''s eyes.
Ethan ducks to the side, avoiding the blinding spray. ''Not so chivalrous.'' Ethan keeps his eyes on the opponent through the sand, deciphering and avoiding a lunge that would have hit a blinded man. Capitalizing on the Orc''s failed attack, Ethan swings the glaive at the beast''s neck from the side.
The Orc spins his upper torso for his cleaver to meet Ethan''s attack. The brutal move strikes Ethan''s blade on the flat and breaks it in half.
Ethan jumps back, his feet grinding into the sand as he comes to a stop ten meters away. Only the lower half of the glaive remains, its blade cut to the length of a broad dagger.
"Adding the Ascended - Melee Weapon (Short Sword) skill. Based on your previous experience a level of 40 has been applied," the system announces. Ascending the skill threw it back to zero, but Ethan''s ascended long sword training created a solid base for handling short swords.
The Orc straightens up and stabs his cleaver into the ground before stepping forward.
''Is he expecting us to fistfight?'' Ethan ponders. He drops the broken blade and extends his open palm. His other abilities work, so why not Inventory? The element that changed from before is the absence of surrounding Ether; perhaps it is required for Inventory. Ethan lets out strands of Ether that rush away from him as if let loose in a vacuum. Nevertheless, it lets him summon Aranthor''s blade in a flash of silver light.
The Orc steps back, astonishment etched on his face, and wrenches his blade out. Such a humane expression. Shared cues for their emotions and mannerisms didn''t shock Ethan when he met people from the other world. Maybe it should have, but at the time it didn''t seem bizarre. This sight, however ¨C a creature so alien showing a human expression ¨C strikes him as improbable. He grumbles undecipherable words before falling back into his stance and moving forward.
Ethan grabs Stormshard with both hands, predicting the Orc''s moves and planning a counter to end the fight. He lowers himself and readies a sliver of Strengthening for an ephemeral, explosive burst of speed.
A deep rumble shatters their focus; it comes from the desert''s sands. The sounds herald vibrations that quake the ground, raising a veil of sand to knee height.
The Orc''s stance falters, and he turns his back to Ethan to look in the distance.
A sand cloud approaches them, and it takes little time for Ethan to notice scaled legs jutting forward in a frenzied rush. Beasts charge at the helm of the storm. They move like felines, leaping forward with each step, but their heads, slick and scaled, are that of a snake. One bares its fangs at Ethan from afar, and a stringer ¨C its tail ¨C stabs the air near its head.
The Orcs spins his blade to fall into a lighter stance and backs away from the monsters, approaching Ethan with his back turned. His instantaneous decision to thrust Ethan makes him wonder just how strong these beasts are.
The serpentine lions close in on them; the storm they bring clouds the suns. Twenty meters away, their form seems clearer to Ethan. Spiked scales whose colors mimic sand cover their body. They are chimeras ¨C the body and head of a snake, legs articulated like that of a feline, and a scorpion''s stinger for a tail.
The first two beasts lunge, one at Ethan and the other at the Orc. They extend their paws to catch their target''s chest, revealing black, curved claws that drip a clear liquid.
Ethan lowers himself and dashes forward to move below the lunging monster. In his charge, he slashes above his head, using the monster''s own inertia to drive his blade along its length. The monster''s halves arch away like a butterflied piece of meat whose black ichor drools over the sand.
The Orc grabs his lunging opponent by the throat and slides his blade above his hand, opening its throat. Holding the slain beast above his maw, the Orc drinks the black ichor.
Another monster comes at Ethan from the side. Its coiled neck springs, aiming to drive its two, forearm-sized fangs into Ethan''s leg.
Ethan pivots on his heel, moving his leg out of the attack. He smacks the pommel of Stormshard onto the creature''s skull, collapsing it with a force that craters his head into the ground.
The Orc throws his bloodskin to the side and swings his cleaver into a wide arc to catch a lunging beast. His blade digs into the scales and flesh but stops against its spine. Another chimera leaps at him, but he anticipates the attack; he throws his previous victim''s corpse with a swing of his blade. The body collides with the attacker in a series of loud cracks, and both fall still to the ground.
A trio of the beasts colludes into a tight formation, their stingers flicking as they prowl towards Ethan.
A tremor grows beneath Ethan''s feet. He glances over his shoulder to find the Orc staring at the ground, his blade poised towards it. Using a shard of Ether, he flickers predator''s sight on and off and sees a large life form surfacing toward them.
It emerges from the sand with a rumble. The ground shatters as a two-legged serpent bursts from beneath the dunes. Its five-meter, wide-open maw swallows the three prowling chimeras, and, like a whale, it falls back into the sand. The dunes explode outward as it collides with them, propelling a sandstorm.
The Orc moves closer to Ethan, shielding his eyes from the raging tempest the thing created. He turns his back to Ethan, watching the other direction.
As the sand falls back down, a relief forms above the creature''s path, circling them. Its head, covered in ochre scales and dotted by golden eyes, peers out of the sand to glare at Ethan.
Away from it, in the direction the Orc is watching, twelve more of the serpentine chimeras run towards them. They are undeterred by the stronger predator that wants their meal.
Sylas – Chapter 9: Survival – Part 3
Sylas moves along the forest''s edge, searching for a straight tree that isn''t too thick. His gaze falls on a maple tree that, contrary to its neighbors, still retains much of its reddening leaves. It appears to be six meters high and under nine centimeters thick with a dozen branches. Ether inhabits its wood, getting in the way of the threads Sylas draws to himself.
"This one will be tougher; it absorbed Ether," Liliana comments.
"I wonder what fed it," Sylas ponders aloud.
"There is something under it that leaks Ether," Liliana explains. "It''s pretty deep, and my best guess is that it¡¯s the corpse of some monster."
"I didn''t sense that at all," Sylas admits. Placing the pelt down, he unsheathes his sword and lowers himself to strike at the tree''s base. With a twist of his entire torso, he embeds his blade halfway through the trunk.
"Don''t dull your weapon to cut down a tree. You might need it later," Liliana quips.
"With the metal it is made of and the enchantments I put on, I really hope it won''t lose to it," Sylas retorts. He slashes back at the gash he cut with another attack. The tree tilts until its branches crack against a pine tree, pushing it back the other way. Sylas moves aside, avoiding the trunk as it falls towards him. He remembers too late that Liliana was behind him and turns to see she moved out of the way.
"Melee Weapon (Long sword) leveled up."
"Do you want help dragging it back?" Liliana asks.
"I''ll make it easier," Sylas says as he cuts off the branches. He moves along the trunk and swings down to cut two one-and-a-half-meter lengths for bows. He cuts the rest of the tree into smaller chunks for arrows. "Can you take these ones? I''ll carry the other two."
Liliana grabs the three shorter logs and the pelt before walking back towards the cavern. She turns to make sure he follows and asks, "Do you have everything you need?"
Sylas looks around, searching for what Liliana may have fought under the guise of double-checking what he needs. Finding nothing, he hefts the two logs over his shoulder and follows her. "No, I''m all good."
As Sylas enters the cavern, he places the two longer logs near the fire and inspects them under the light. He unsheathes his blade and places it against the edge of a log to cut out the bark. Done, he repeats for the second one.
"Your sword is wickedly sharp," Liliana comments.
"It''s enchanted with B-ranked sharpness. And the metal I used to make it comes from Mount Silverveil; it holds quite a lot of Ether," Sylas reveals. He sits on a rock with the first bow-to-be held with his legs and draws his blade along it.
Shavings curl away from the log, falling at his feet and filling the air with maple scent. Soon, Sylas forms the trunk into an even rectangle on which he marks his carving goals with charcoal.
Liliana tends to the fire as she watches the cavern''s entrance, occasionally glancing over his work. She seems tense, her carefree demeanor and mannerisms replaced by a cold gaze directed outside.
Over the course of an hour, Sylas loses himself to the rhythm of carving. The limbs done, he uses Liliana''s dagger to carve out nocks for the strings and arrow notches. The edges feel rough, but without files or rasps, he cannot smooth them.
"Looks good," Liliana comments with a yawn.
"Thanks." Sylas grabs two logs from their firewood stock and places them upright on opposite sides of the embers.
"What are those for?" Liliana asks.
"The wood needs to dry before it can be bent. Normally, bow wood should be dried over several months before being carved." Sylas sets the bows above the fire, using the logs to raise them fifty centimeters higher than the flaming embers. With a stick, he shapes the fire to give it more length, assuring heat is evenly affecting his creations. "It will hasten the process; I just need to turn them over in a few hours. And hope they don''t crack."
"I guess you''re planning on unraveling some of our rope for the strings," Liliana comments. She drags the bag to her and pulls out the thick rope.
"Yes," Sylas confirms, taking it as she hands it to him. He cuts a length and unravels its many strands. The untwisted strands in his hands, he starts using a reverse twist to remake them into a string that forms an integrated loop at one end.
"I can do that," Liliana says. She holds her hand for him to give her the strands. "You still have the arrows and quivers to do."
It strikes Sylas that he overlooked the need for quivers. He hands her the strands and grabs the hide to sprawl it on a flat rock. It pains him to use untreated hide to craft anything, but they cannot realistically carry arrows in their hands all day.
Patches of fat and muscles cling to the underside of the pelt. He would risk cutting into the leather if he used something as sharp as Liliana''s dagger. His gaze sweeps the ground outside the cavern''s mouth, searching for rocks he can turn into tools and arrowheads. After a minute, his eyes settle on large flints and a round rock.
Grabbing them, Sylas strikes one of the flint''s corners with the rock, chipping away to refine its edge. Sparks fly every few hits, and the stone takes on a sharp, almost regular edge.
Sylas grips the flint in his hand and presses it against the hide, scraping away the fat and bits of muscle as he slides it. Flakes shed away from his tool, slowly dulling the edge as he works. As he finishes, the hide turns clean and pliable.
He cuts rectangular pieces out of the hide using Liliana''s dagger and folds them into cylinders, the fur outward. He punches holes in the seams and stitches them with strands of rope to form the quivers. Using strands of pelt, he attaches a strap to each of them.
"Didn''t you say you needed to tan it first?" Liliana asks.
"I think I will still be able to once we are done with the exercise. Worst case scenario, I''ll make new ones; that would be a waste, though," Sylas answers. Passing the strap of a quiver under his belt, Sylas finds himself satisfied with the height at which it drops along his leg.
"A bit shorter for me, please," Liliana says, pointing at her thigh five centimeters higher than the quiver would rest at.
"Sure," Sylas confirms before shortening the strap of her quiver.
Done with them, he grabs the shorter logs he cut earlier and carves them down into elongated, square pieces. One by one, he shaves their corners with his blade until he''s left with thirty cylinders.
"What do you want to use for fletching?" Liliana asks. "I''ve seen discarded nests near the lake, but I don''t think you''ll find many good feathers."
"I forgot about that," Sylas admits. Making them with raw pelt would be a terrible idea. Another way would have been parchment, but they have none of that.
Liliana skims a flame with the strings she made, burning off the loose strands jutting out of them. She rolls them and places her finished strings beside Sylas. "You could use the leaves of the tree you cut. They are still in good condition."
"Good idea," Sylas praises. He goes outside the cavern to fetch some of the branches he discarded. Looking up, he realizes how late, or rather, early it is.
The two moons shine almost fully above them in a dark sky. Small shadows fly above, making the stars flicker behind their erratic paths. The tree line feels oppressive, shrouded in near-total darkness.
Sylas drags two branches back and realizes that Liliana watches over him from the cavern''s mouth. He comments, "You seem awfully protective and concerned. That wasn''t the case before we got attacked; did something happen?"
"It''s just late," Liliana deflects. "People get nervous when they don''t get enough sleep."You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.
Sylas sits back down and cuts the most flexible leaves to shape before binding them in trios to the shafts using strands of rope. Having no glue, he cuts incisions perpendicular to the shaft into the leaves to bind them in half a dozen points.
"It looks pretty," Liliana comments. "It would be hard to find feathers that begin green and fade to orange and red along their length. At least it wouldn''t be cheap."
Sylas grabs a flint and his oval rock and smacks the edge of the flint. Chunks fall down, one of them big enough to make an arrowhead out of. Sylas cleans the shards, sets aside his first arrowhead in the making, and repeats.
Using the wolf''s tooth, he shapes the flints. He chips at them, smoothing the edges into pointed tips. He cuts himself a few times; nothing serious for a craftsman.
Liliana watches him, arms crossed, her sheathed sword resting point-down against the ground. "You look like you know what you are doing. Did you hunt for your village?"
"Bows are an easy¡ toy to make when you are a kid. The arrows? We had a hunter who couldn''t be bothered to make his own or to catch anything really," Sylas explains. "He didn''t have money, but he was annoying, so we made him some from flints. At first I tried with all kinds of rocks, but it''s by far the easiest one to work with."
"Too bad it''s brittle; you can''t reuse the arrows much," Liliana comments. "There is also obsidian, but I doubt you would have found any around your home."
"What does it look like?" Sylas asks.
"It''s a black stone," Liliana answers. "Its chunks can be extremely sharp, but they break easily."
Sylas cuts slots into the shafts and fits the arrow tips into them before securing them with rope strands. One by one, he finishes the arrows by cutting nocks the width of the bowstrings.
"We should at least get a deer with that many if your bows are any good," Liliana comments.
"Enchantment," Sylas mutters. A window appears in front of him.
Enchanting
This arrow can hold one E rank enchantment.
Speak the name of the enchantment you want to bestow upon the arrow. Enchantments may fail if attributed to slots of insufficient rank.
"Durability," Sylas says. He repeats the operation for each arrow under Liliana''s increasingly surprised gaze. Her growing stupefaction at the quality of his craft, denoted by E and F slots, makes Sylas smile. Few would expect makeshift arrows to be any good, but Sylas has had years of practice.
"Crafting (Arrow) leveled up," the system says.
Once the last arrow is enchanted, Sylas feels a shroud taking over his mind. He stands but tumbles, his body suddenly weak and clumsy.
Liliana catches Sylas as he falls to the side. She moves under his arm and sits the both of them back. Resetting the fallen blanket, she blames, "I knew it ¨C you have no idea what you are doing. Enchanting is hard on your soul; you can''t just do it like that."
She continues grumbling, but Sylas'' sight darkens as her voice grows distant.
Dazed, Sylas flickers in and out of consciousness at the sight and feel of the darkened, cold cavern. He wonders if the day has come but cannot find the cavern''s mouth, his body protesting him turning his head. The blanket weighs on him like lead, hindering his every move.
A low growl reverberates through the cavern. The sound freezes Sylas and sends his heart racing. The growl grows into a snarl as thundering steps echo, approaching him.
Sylas turns his head towards the sound, simultaneously struggling to reach his blade. His hand doesn''t find its handle as he rummages through the blanket.
Two red eyes glow in the darkness, staring down at Sylas. They descend, revealing the external, tusked skull that surrounds them as it wraps its toothy maw around Sylas'' neck.
Sylas wakes up, grasping his pounding heart through his chest. The blanket falls off him as he bends forward, uncovering Liliana, who''s leaning against him, her eyes closed.
Sylas swallows, suddenly aware of how close she is. His right arm is stuck behind her neck, serving as a pillow instead of the rock it''s resting on. His heart doesn''t slow down; he looks away, trying to distract his mind. The fire still holds evenly scattered embers from logs added after he dozed off, and the bows have been turned over.
"Because of your recklessness, I couldn''t sleep," Liliana whispers. Knowing her habit of prolongating waking up by countless five-minute additions, it''s likely she wasn''t sleeping at all.
"I''m sorry," Sylas apologizes.
"Don''t do it again; that''s all that matters," Liliana whispers back. "You shouldn''t enchant more than a few low-rank items a day until your soul is accustomed to it."
"I fainted because my soul got tired?" Sylas asks.
"I''m not surprised ¨C that''s not something you''d learn outside a noble''s house," Liliana begins. She draws a human figure in the dirt with the tip of her sheath. "Souls are bound to our bodies from the day we are born to the day we die ¨C they are our memories, thoughts, and instincts. When enchanting, you dialog with the object''s soul and exert yours to strengthen it."
"Objects have souls?" Sylas startles.
"Everything has one ¨C humans, dogs, fishes, swords, spears, even rocks do," Liliana confirms. "When you modify an object, like the flints and wood of the arrows, it weakens their souls because they are no longer what they¡ think they are. In those weakened states, before they fuse as they realize they have become an arrow, you can mold their souls by force into a stronger arrow."
"So, I what? Give them part of my soul?" Sylas asks.
"No," Liliana denies. "It''s more like talking to them. But that weakens your soul like exercise strains your muscles. And just like you can wound your muscles, you can damage your soul by overexercising it."
"I thought it was like using life force for a moment, but it sounds less dangerous," Sylas comments.
"How do you even know about that?" Liliana asks. She severs the arm of the figure she drew. "It would be using part of your soul as fuel. But using life force is reckless and extremely painful. Even if you can do it, which concerns only a fraction of the population, it causes immense pain only a madman could endure."
"You said souls hold our memories and more. What happens to them if you use life force? Do you forget stuff?" Sylas asks.
"They are also in your brain. As long as your soul is attached to your body, it will regrow. But if you die having expended life force, your soul will be damaged forever, or even destroyed," Liliana explains. "No afterlife for you."
"Well, that''s scary," Sylas comments. He moves out of the blanket and dons his dried gambeson. "Thank you for turning them over."
"It''s nothing," Liliana says. She folds the wool blanket and stashes it in their bag before checking her armor''s straps.
Sylas grabs the bows, inspecting them in the morning light. He strings and draws the bows, noting any spots in the limbs that bend unevenly. The strings removed, he shaves off thin layers of wood from these areas and repeats. After several iterations, he''s satisfied with the curvature of both bows. He turns to Liliana and asks, "Can I enchant them now? Or do I need more rest?"
"Two bows shouldn¡¯t be too hard after sleeping the entire night," Liliana answers with a hint of discontent.
"Enchantment," Sylas mutters.
Enchanting
This bow can hold one E rank enchantment.
Speak the name of the enchantment you want to bestow upon the bow. Enchantments may fail if attributed to slots of insufficient rank.
"Did you expect it to be better ranked?" Liliana asks.
"Not really," Sylas begins. He presses on his cheeks to dispel the disappointed expression he bears. "I eyeballed every measurement, used weapons as tools, made them from undried wood, had no rasp to smooth their edges, and didn''t do a bit of decoration."
"Making pretty weapons results in better enchantments?" Liliana asks.
"That''s what Edgar told me," Sylas answers. He looks back at the window and says, "Durability."
"I''m sure you''ll have the time to make one like you want," Liliana comments.
"I certainly hope so. If anything, I might build upon mine before we are thrown back into the wild for round two. I''ll refrain from enchanting it for now; I''m sure I can do better," Sylas says. He hands her the enchanted bow.
Liliana draws the bow without notching an arrow. Her back muscles show through her armor, displacing the gambeson and leather breastplate. "I''d guess it''s around forty, fifty kilos. High for hunting, but you never know what could attack us."
"Crafting (Bow) leveled up (x2)," the system announces.
"I hope we were the unlucky ones and that the kids didn''t have to fight wolves," Sylas says.
"I wonder where it came from. Wolves inhabit the northern mountains, past Balmwood, but I''ve never heard of packs this south," Liliana says. "And the ones I know of are supposed to be smaller. But I wouldn''t worry; this place causes a lot of echoes, and we didn''t hear any screams."
"We should check on them," Sylas begins. He attaches the loaded quiver to his belt and sets the bow across his chest. "We don''t have to eliminate them as soon as we see them, do we?"
"Knowing where they shelter will be plenty enough. If they are too confident to move by tomorrow, they''ll deserve to be eliminated," Liliana comments. She draws an arrow without firing it. "The fletching feels weird, but it should do the trick."
"I''d need feathers to do it properly and some type of glue. Pine pitch would do it, but we don''t have anything like a pot to melt the stuff," Sylas says.
"Speaking of pot, I''m hungry." Liliana stashes the longbow over her torso and steps outside. "I won''t take long; I heard some birds earlier. Practice, or I''ll be mad if you miss and hit me in the back."
As he watches her vanish into the forest, Sylas removes the tip of an arrow to avoid needlessly breaking it. He aims at a tree and releases the string, hurling the projectile forward. He misses by twenty centimeters, sending the arrow deep into the forest.
Sylas sighs and begins walking in the direction he shot at. Of course he would miss with a new bow; he should have fired into the cavern to avoid losing his arrow. Walking, Sylas thinks of a hot, stuffy breakfast of warm bread, sausages, and eggs as his stomach protests.
He finds his arrow stuck in between the two diverging trunks of a tree. "At least I hit a tree," Sylas comments. He grabs the shaft and pulls the arrow out before inspecting the notched tip; it''s thankfully undamaged.
Sylas'' breath catches as his gaze refocuses on the ground. Two fingers, their base enveloped in the remains of fingerless gloves, lie in the snow at the tree''s foot.
Sylas looks around and realizes he''s near to where he was attacked yesterday. He crouches and approaches with his hand to grab one of the fingers but stops himself as his stomach churns.
"I got us a partridge," Liliana calls from the lake''s edge. She looks at him through the forest, her gaze locked onto his.
Sylas stands up, masking the emotion of disgust that threatened to overtake him. He puts on a smile and walks out; whatever happened, she''s hiding it from him, and it makes him certain he shouldn''t push it. His mind swirls as he tries to come up with a theory. If it was the village''s attacker, or any unknown enemy, she would have told him¡ unless she thinks he would panic if he knew. He reaches her and says, "Nice. I don''t know what he tastes like. Is it good?"
"It''s quite tender," Liliana comments. The blood on her sword''s locket is gone, cleaned up while he wasn''t looking.
"Deception leveled up."
Chapter 122: Realm of Ascension – Part 3
The slithering sand snake rises above ground, grains sliding off its head, forming cascades on each side. Its front and only limbs fall down on the ground to support its chest, casting billowing ochre clouds. Its golden eyes stay locked on Ethan, their pupils narrowing onto him.
The Orc roars at the pack of chimeras, backing further away, uncomfortably close to Ethan.
''If I go all out, I have a minute or two of Ether,'' Ethan thinks. He fought bigger creatures with powers giving them inescapable range and unpredictable defense. But for some unknown reason, his instincts tell him¡ scream at him to be on the defensive.
A cold, electric shiver crawls up Ethan''s spine, and the creature''s image distends and inflates. It unfolds two dripping fangs from its palate, as long as Ethan is tall. The surroundings darken, and its eyes brighten to an eerie glow that shines upon the desert like spotlights in the night.
Ethan sniffs the hot air, smelling a hint of fruity sweetness replacing the copper smell of blood. Narrowing his eyes, he sees a bending of the light descending from the monster''s scales. ''Poison.''
The giant snake''s maw widens to reveal rows of serrated teeth. It grows unnaturally, swallowing the sky with its hallucinated size.
Ethan''s heart hammers in his chest as he''s betrayed by his own senses. He triggers predator''s sight, but the ability''s output is as distorted and insane as his own sight.
The Orc bellows as he charges forward, his thunderous steps moving away from Ethan. Of all Ethan''s senses, it seems hearing is unaffected by the monster''s poison.
Ethan closes his eyes to listen to the snake''s scales scraping against the sand, the sounds magnified by predator''s sight. ''It''s no different from a gunfight in the dark; calm yourself.''
The giant monster coils its upper body, its scales displacing sand away from Ethan. It springs forward, snapping its maw open with a hiss.
Ethan leaps to the side, tumbling into the sand as he avoids the attack.
A titanic hand slams into Ethan. It strikes him with the force of a giant sledgehammer, compressing his chest before sending him high into the sky. In the attack''s prolongation, Ethan feels three claws cutting through his coat''s outer layer, tearing the cloth like paper.
Ethan opens his eyes, but his surroundings spiral in splatters of black, burning white, and ochre. He grits his teeth, spinning through the air as gravity pulls him down. Closing his eyes again, Ethan forces himself to focus on the sounds.
Sand shifts, hissing in a rhythm as a chimera rushes towards Ethan''s landing point. Its last impact on the ground is more powerful than the others as it hurls itself into the air to attack Ethan in his fall.
Ethan twists his body to avoid the beast, arching his chest above its maw. He picks up on the rattle of its tail''s segments as it springs towards him and swings at it. His blade meets chitin and slashes through; he twists his torso, carving through the camera tail and lower body.
A louder hiss of sand comes from where the giant snake was.
Ethan picks up on the approaching breath of the creature and the sounds of its muscles bending its titanic body. As he hears its entire body extending to bite him, he kicks the chimera''s corpse downward, propelling himself higher.
The giant snake arches higher to pursue Ethan but slows in the process. Sand scrapes against its countless teeth as it falls into and beside its maw.
Triggering Strengthening, Ethan contracts his torso and legs for an explosive twist. He coats his blade in flames, feeds it Ether, and adds Weapon Aura, covering the sword in crackling fire and buzzing lightning arcs. Ethan swings and hits the monster''s unfolding fangs. Stormshard cuts through and unleashes a wave that slices the monster''s jaws apart.
The giant serpent''s upper maw crashes into Ethan, sending electric pain into his ribs as it propels him further away. Its body falls back down, crashing into the sand, gurgling out blood.
Ethan collides with the ground, bouncing back like a pebble thrown on a lake. He gasps for air as the heated desert burns his skin and dulls his mind.
Three sets of clawed legs rush after him, their owners snarling as they approach.
Hearing the ground approaching, Ethan spins to land feet first and stop himself. His lower left ribs spark with pain until he absorbs the landing''s energy. Ethan flutters his eyes open, long enough to confirm his sight is still unusable before closing them back. His ears tune into the three distinct sets of movements converging on him. Each chimera has a different weight, a different rhythm to its charge ¨C one faster, another heavier, the last limping.
The first, to the right, lowers itself and lunges for Ethan''s leg. Its stinger rattles as it brings it forward to stab Ethan''s chest.
Ethan dives, feeling the wind as the chimera''s stringer slams into the spot where he stood. He thrusts his blade downward, feeling it scrape against the creature''s bones as it passes through its skull and throat.
The second chimera propels itself forward, aiming to bite Ethan''s throat.
Ethan pivots, but his blade refuses to come out, moved at an odd angle by a spasm of the first chimera''s corpse. He shields himself with his left forearm at the last moment.
The chimera''s jaws tighten around Ethan''s arm, sparking electrifying pain in his bones as its teeth fail to bite through Ethan''s coat. Its stinger writhes from above, but Ethan twists from side to side to avoid its thrusts. Its right paw slashes Ethan''s neck with stinging pain.
A stinger stabs Ethan''s lower back, but his coat absorbs the blow, stopping it from piercing flesh. The last, wounded chimera prowled around him, moving silently compared to its brethren.
Ethan wrenches his blade from the first chimera''s corpse and stabs it through the neck of the one holding his arm.
It convulses and lets go, blood spraying out of its wound as Ethan pulls out his blade. Its stinger writhes aimlessly but falls short as it collapses, the connections to its legs severed by Ethan''s blow.
The last chimera prowls back, hissing at Ethan like a scared cat. Its stinger stabs the air above its head as it tries to appear threatening.You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.
The cuts on Ethan''s neck spread a burning pain in his flesh; more poison to be worried about. Behind his back, Ethan hears the giant snake rising from the ground, blood cascading out from its maw and onto the desert sand.
''Of course I''m not the one you''re afraid of. But why weren''t you afraid before?'' Ethan ponders. A shroud takes over Ethan''s mind, caused by heat and poison. He shakes his head to dispel the sensation and refocus on the fight.
The giant snake falls back down to the ground and slithers towards Ethan, its lower jaw scraping and parting the sand as it hangs uncontrollably.
''I can''t keep fighting. Let''s hope you¡¯re the biggest one he planned to throw at me,'' Ethan thinks. He shakes the pain out of his left hand and aims his palm at the giant beast. He summons his life force and conjures a fireball into his hand, bathing his skin in blazing heat.
The Orc bellows, running towards Ethan from the left, his steps heavy and staggering. He falls to one knee and rises again, clawing at the sand to propel himself towards Ethan.
''My spell must be the only thing he sees if his sight is as bad as mine,'' Ethan theorizes. He doesn''t shield himself against the charging giant and throws his spell at the monster. It ionizes the air as it turns into a beam or radiant blue light that peers through Ethan''s eyelids.
The Orc follows the light, turning in his reckless charge to lunge at the giant serpent. His blade falls on the monster, but it is useless; Ethan''s spell carved a hole through the beast''s head.
The stench of cooking blood rises in the air from the corpses littering the sands. Silence falls upon them as the only thing Ethan hears is the Orc''s heavy breathing and his own.
Ethan lets himself fall to sit on one of the chimeras he killed. Languidly, he opens his eyes to see the setting suns. It shouldn¡¯t be that late; it must mean the challenge is over. Rarely in his life has Ethan been so physically tired; his entire body screams its sufferings in heated throbs. He passes his hand on the claw wounds of his neck, causing them to sting.
Only one chimera remains. It digs itself into the ground far away from Ethan and the Orc. Its brethren lie dead in the sand, most killed by the brutal blows of the Orc, their corpses mangled and broken.
The Orc approaches, his blade to the side, and places himself between Ethan and the puddle of water. It is clouded by sand and doesn''t even contain a third of what he did earlier. He grunts and rolls his shoulders before spitting blood onto the ground. His flesh is marred by claw wounds, causing the muscles beneath to spasm uncontrollably.
"I don''t need it anymore," Ethan says. He extends his left hand and releases parts of his Ether to summon a water bottle. He opens it and gulps half of its contents in seconds.
"Your mastery of Ether, even for someone it likes, is remarkable," the man''s voice says from the ground. Smoke rises from the sand and forms into the shape of the man commanding this realm. He snaps his book shut and looks over the horizon to observe the last seconds of sunlight. "I underestimated how insane and skilled you are. Not even Orcs would fully reject their sight, no matter how affected, to fight a Lindworm."
"There are ways to see in darkness in my world, tools that enhance the weakest of light. But sometimes I had to hide and kill from the shadows without one. It''s not the first time I have had to do everything by sound, though I couldn''t have moved like that before the system," Ethan says. He looks back at the Orc but finds him gone alongside the monsters'' corpses; only the one beneath him remains.
"Remarkable creatures, truly," the man comments.
"Which ones?" Ethan asks. He breathes heavily, still trying to dispel the oppressive heat despite the vanishing sunlight.
"All of them. Those species, deprived of Ether, endured in a world that had no mercy for them. A shame those who now live beyond their world lost so much of their natural grandeur. If a human from your world, one who spent their entire life in your deserts, were to come here before the alignment, how long would they survive?" the man asks.
"I''ve found I don''t feel heat as I used to," Ethan prefaces. "But if the heat didn''t cause them to collapse, those predators would slaughter them."
"I wondered if you had realized," the man quips. A flicker of smoke appears in his hand, forming a mercury thermometer he sends towards Ethan. For once he didn''t use his book to summon something; perhaps it is only for showmanship. The thermometer rises to indicate seventy-five degrees Celsius. "Without going above your human potential, you would have collapsed in minutes."
"Are you referring to the fact I exceeded twenty points of constitution? Since then, any additional point seems to cause Ether to reinforce my body through unrealistic means."
"Unrealistic," the man whispers, as if amused by the word. He opens his book, and smoke spews out to swallow the desert. It turns to the inside of a marble room with a large bath in the center. Clay jars line one of the walls, smelling of soaps made from olive oils. "It is a way to describe the process. Once you reach the full potential of your genetics, your soul creates structures that mimic and support your biology. The thresholds aren''t the same for different species or even individuals. A truly wonderful and fascinating process."
"Wait. It''s not some creation of the system?" Ethan asks. Looking around, he notes the absence of any exits or windows in the room. He senses his surroundings filling with threads of Ether and refills his heart. "When upgrading a characteristic, I sense Ether forming from nowhere to create those¡ structures."
"Because you use the system''s points to do it. In that case, the system accelerates the process. But if you were to train as you used to in an environment rich in Ether, it would happen over time," the man answers.
"If I understand you, the system isn''t what allows us to go beyond our limits. How can humans be capable of that when we have been alien to Ether for millions of years? We couldn''t have evolved that feature," Ethan asks. He once pondered if there was a genetic factor to the ease with which he manipulates Ether; it might be related.
"I''ve told you enough for now," the man denies. He motions towards the bath. "We have put your body to the test, and you''ve shown your mastery over it despite the short time you had to accustom yourself. Take some time to rest, relax, and mend your body; more challenges await you."
"I''ll ask again when you come back," Ethan comments. Looking around, he notices that his coat is intact, free from the marks of claws, fangs, and stinger attacks it suffered.
"And I shall answer your questions; I have no binds keeping me from sharing that knowledge," the man answers. He turns to smoke and seeps into the ground.
''I hope he''ll keep his word,'' Ethan thinks. This knowledge might be present in the other world, but finding someone willing to speak could be a time-consuming endeavor.
Ethan sends his clothes to his Inventory and enters the water. Vapor forms from the water at the contact of his skin. The searing heat of the desert leaves him; it''s replaced by a tightness, as if it was cooling sunburns.
Ethan leans back and closes his eyes. In his darkened sight, he sees the threads of Ether surrounding him, and specks of it fused with the water like in metals. These aquatic shards drift towards his skin and seep into it, vanishing as they mend his muscles, soothe his aches, and relax his skin.
Ethan exhales deeply, his breath rippling across the water''s surface. Passing his hand on his neck, he senses the cut knitted into long-healed scars.
Russ forms from Ethan''s shadow on the pool''s edge, his tail wagging against the marble ground. He whines, nudging Ethan''s head with his own.
"I don''t see a sign forbidding anything," Ethan quips. He raises his hand out of the water and motions forward. "Ok."
Russ leaps into the large bath, moving his paws to swim in circles and wagging his tail to spread water everywhere.
Ethan chuckles as Russ paddles through the water, his thick black fur now soaked. He leans back, letting the warmth of the water work deeper into his bones as he lowers his head underwater. His body still aches from the blows he suffered, but the pain is dull now.
Russ paddles closer, resting his large paws on Ethan''s chest with a chuff.
''You better not be thinking about using me as a raft,'' Ethan thinks, still underwater. He reaches for a pumice stone on the bath''s edge and flicks it at the other end, where it sinks. ''Fetch.''
Russ dives after the improvised ball. For a few seconds, all Ethan senses is rippling water. Then, Russ steps back onto his chest and drops the rock onto it.
''Good fetch,'' Ethan praises. He grabs the rock but stops himself from throwing it as he senses Russ'' claws tensing.
Russ shakes himself off and growls, his head snapping to the side.
''Shadow,'' Ethan commands, and Russ obeys without delay. Triggering predator''s sight, he senses that a large wooden door has manifested there and hears drums rumbling on the other side.
Sylas – Chapter 10: Charred
After breakfast, which turned out wonderful for a wild bird, Liliana and Sylas moved out of the cavern to travel eastward to hunt other duos. Sylas is unsure as to if Liliana suspects that he knows she''s hiding the fight she had with a human attacker. This situation makes it hard for him to maintain small talk knowing she''s keeping it a secret.
After an hour of silence, Liliana stops Sylas by holding her open hand above her. She nods towards the right to direct Sylas'' attention. She''s pointing at a tall tree with white, luminescent, cascading pine leaves standing in a dim clearing.
It is the only tree of its kind in the vicinity and shows no sign of suffering from the cold compared to the leafless maples. Through its branches that arch downward like hair, Sylas spots a human figure standing still.
"What is he doing?" Sylas asks.
"You should go check on him; I''ll search for his partner; they shouldn''t be apart," Liliana says. She glances around and starts walking up a slope, searching for a vantage point.
Sylas leaves the forest to enter the clearing. A faint, fruity smell fills the air as Sylas approaches the towering, luminous tree. The closer he gets, the stronger the smell becomes.
The human figure at the base of the tree is still, as if frozen in place. Getting closer, Sylas can see he wears a gambeson and still holds his spear at his side, but he cannot make out his features.
"Hey! Are you alright?" Sylas calls out. He narrows his eyes, trying to discern more, but the radiance from the tree makes it difficult to peer through its leaves. He moves a set of leaves aside to open a path and enters. As he draws closer to the boy and recognizes him as one of Walf''s men, Sylas'' urgency to reach him fades away.
The world blurs at the edges of Sylas'' sight, and time grows languid. Sylas can''t quite remember why he came here in the first place. Everything ¨C Liliana, the cold, him being a guard ¨C feels like a distant memory, and he finds himself back in his village''s forge.
A scream shatters the stillness, followed by a war horn and guttural roars. Clashes of steel fill the air, muffled by the walls surrounding Sylas.
Sylas hesitates, staring at the dancing, ember lights that peer through the forge''s door. The acrid smell of smoke and blood fills his nostrils, stinging his eyes as his hand finds the handle of his blade. He unsheathes it and pushes open the door to walk onto the streets.
Bodies litter the ground, both villagers, neighbors he knew since childhood, and Orcs. One of the beasts jumps out of an alley to swing a jagged axe at a fleeing man.
"Stop!" Sylas yells. The last time, he hid behind a cart as the man, their cobbler, died. But the blade in his hands gave him an instant of strength he now regrets as the beast turns to him.
The Orc spins his axe with his wrist as he walks towards Sylas, a grin growing on his tusked face. Then, a few paces away from Sylas, he lunges forward with an overhead strike.
A sharp pinch on his cheek yanks Sylas back to reality. The tip of his blade falls into the snow as it suddenly feels heavy. He flinches, the light around him blurring as the snowy landscape overtakes his vision.
Liliana stands beside him, her hand still gripping his cheek, a smirk on her face. She''s chewing on a set of purple leaves whose sap deepened the color of her lips. "And that''s how you die of hypothermia ¨C stunned by a whispering willow because you don''t know what it is."
"Then how are you not affected?" Sylas asks, feeling his mind dulling once again. A bead of water rolls down his temple, making him realize he''s sweating despite the cold. He looks around and sees the skeletons of small animals ¨C rabbits, mice, squirrels, and more ¨C dotting the ground.
Liliana hands him a handful of leaves like the ones in her mouth. "Veilbane; works to dispel a lot of illusions, but don''t go swallowing the leaves themselves or use them too long, or you could go blind."
"Thanks," Sylas says before biting down on the leaves. Their bitter sap stings his tongue and soon restores his body''s sensations. His fingers and feet feel like ice blocks, frozen as if he had stood for hours under the tree. Looking away from her, he spots a figure waiting outside. "How long was I out for?"
"Thirty minutes, give or take," Liliana answers. She passes the still dazed recruit to approach the trunk. Using her dagger, she detaches small black beads from the tree and flings one to Sylas. "Might as well know this one too; it''s a parasitic berry you can find on Ether-rich trees like this one. If you eat it, it will let you ignore cold, heat, thirst, hunger, fatigue, and even pain for a while. But don''t abuse it, or you''ll pass out because you forgot to drink or sleep."
"How do you know so much about¡ how do you call it? Herbolism?" Sylas asks, trying to distract himself from the vision''s memory. He mouths the small fruit and swallows it alongside some of the leaves'' sap.
"Herbalism and alchemy; I studied both at the same time," Liliana corrects. She grabs the dazed boy by the collar of his gambeson and drags him until they are outside the tree''s branches, where she releases him.
"No, let me go back," the boy cries, not realizing nothing is stopping him from stepping back under the tree.
Sylas moves in front of him, barring his way to the whispering willow. "He doesn''t look like he''s quite himself yet."
"How long have you been searching for him?" Liliana asks the waiting boy.
"Three hours, I''d say, ma''am," he answers. He stares at his feet as he answers, looking ashamed and worried.If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.
"That will do it; he''ll come back to his senses in a few minutes. For all we know, he might have been in his dream for what felt like days," Liliana says. She points southward and orders, "Get him back to Walf; you lost. And don''t try to cheat; I know your names and how long it will take you to make your way."
"Yes, ma''am," the boy confirms. He grabs his bewildered companion by the shoulder to turn him around and push him forward. He turns back for a final salute. "Ma''am, sir."
"Do you really know their names, or was it just for show?" Sylas asks as he gets close to Liliana.
"Dain and Bram," Liliana points out. "Dain is the one who always looks guilty of something, and Bram had delicious cookies made by his mom."
"You''re making me feel bad for not remembering them," Sylas quips.
"It will come when you notice small stuff that makes them unique," Liliana says. She flicks one of the small black berries between her teeth to bite down on it. "Or when you see their names on reports again and again."
"What if we didn''t come here on time? He could have died from the frost," Sylas points out.
"This tree is the only one in the region; Hawryn checks it often in case something like that happens." Liliana turns around to resume their journey eastward. "But he wouldn''t find anyone if those two checked on each other."
"What if they both got stunned at the same time?" Sylas asks, following her.
"In doubt you shouldn''t approach unknown plants; you never know what they could do to you," Liliana counters.
"Sounds reasonable," Sylas comments. Deep down, he''s ashamed he fell into one more of her teaching traps without even questioning it.
As they move further eastward, Sylas'' thoughts circle back to his vision. The memory, and that of the real raid on his village, lingers like a wound in his heart. He was a coward, still is perhaps. That day, he hid and witnessed powerless as others died. He only dared to help once every last Orc died to Grim''s hand.
"You are quiet," Liliana observes, walking ahead of him. "Whispering willows can show you quite a lot of things. What did you see?"
Sylas exhales. "It''s nothing. Just¡ memories."
Liliana shrugs as if she expected the answer. "Be careful not to get lost in them. You wouldn''t want another wolf to catch you off guard."
Sylas narrows his eyes as a patch of darkness on the horizon disturbs his sight. He gasps as he realizes it is the tail end of a rising plume of dark smoke. Gauging the distance, it must be near the road they took to come from Opal.
Liliana looks in the direction of the smoke, a dreadful expression on her face. She brings her right hand to her mouth, hiding a gasp of horror before trying to regain her composure.
"What did you hear?" Sylas asks.
"Nothing," Liliana lies. "This must be a hunter''s camp; gods know I''d want to light a fire too in this cold."
Sylas turns to her, placing himself uncomfortably close. "We ate the berries you harvested at the same time, and I''m still under its effects; you don''t feel cold. But that was a pointless lie anyway ¨C your expression was quite telling."
"I said it''s nothing to worry about," Liliana retorts, feigning offense.
"I don''t care for the games you play on me to teach me about surviving in the wild; in truth, I even found some of them quite clever. But if there is someone over there that needs help and you stay silent, it will be no different from harming them yourself," Sylas confronts. "Even if you consider I''m too weak or inexperienced to do anything about it."
Liliana bites her lip, taking a step back from Sylas. Lowering her gaze, she admits, "I heard a cry for mercy; she wasn''t able to finish her sentence."
Sylas turns around and bolts through the forest. The wind howls past Sylas'' ears as he moves. Rushing towards the smoke, he barely registers the underbrush snapping beneath his boots and against his legs.
"Wait!" Liliana calls from behind. She follows after him, her strides faster than his.
Sylas surges forward, his heartbeat pounding in his ears. The distant column of smoke rises higher as he closes the gap. Deep down, he never wants to feel the guilt of letting others die when he could have helped again.
As he crests the hills that mark the delimitation of their training area, he sees the scene. A caravan lies in ruins, the wooden frames of three carts shattered and burning. He sees no movement, and despite the distance and smoke, believes he can spot immobile human shapes.
"Stay here," Liliana commands. She stops at his side and grabs his left arm.
"Whoever did this is already gone," Sylas comments. He shakes his arm to escape her grasp and starts running down the slope leading to the road.
"You don''t know that; they could be hiding to ambush those you come to their rescue," Liliana retorts. Her eyes scan their surroundings, with a strange focus on their back. Surely, those who attacked the caravan wouldn''t come from behind.
"Is someone following us?" Sylas asks, glancing over his shoulder. "You look stressed."
"No," Liliana startles. "It''s you who are stressing me, rushing into danger because you feel like it."
"Isn''t it a guard''s job to rush to the rescue when someone is attacked?" Sylas retorts.
Liliana looks to the side and breathes in deeply, unable to find another argument.
As the two of them reach the wreckage, the stench of smoke and charred wood fills the air.
Sylas moves with his sword held before him, eyes sweeping across the bodies sprawled in agonizing postures. Many have arrows protruding from their chests and throats, and none are breathing.
Liliana follows, moving through the wreckage with a cloth over her mouth and her blade in hand. She stops at the helm of a collapsed, burning cart. A body catches her eyes; his tunic, though stained with blood, is a wealthy one. "I remember him; he''s a merchant from Opal."
Sylas'' gaze shifts over the burning carts. Wooden crates lie untouched in them, waiting for the flames to reach them alongside expensive, rolled cloths. Bags of coal, tools, and even barrels of ale and wine remain inside. He moves to another wagon and finds the same ¨C riches left to the flames.
"They didn''t take anything," Liliana mutters, shaking her head. "Not a single thing. Those carts are full, and they didn''t even rob their weapons."
"Why burn it all, then? If it were bandits, they would''ve stolen what they could carry. At the very least, their food and weapons. This¡" He gestures at the scene, frustration taking him. Then, the answer comes to him as he remembers stories he learned to read with. "Is siege warfare."
"That''s what I think too," Hawryn''s voice says. He appears from behind one of the carts, a crude arrow in hand. "The tips are poisoned ¨C Ytherin sap, a paralytic. They could have harvested it in the region, so it doesn''t tell us who they are, but it means they are quite skilled."
"From the direction of the arrows, we can tell they were ambushed from both sides," Liliana says. She motions at the many arrows embedded in the carts and into the ground. "With this snow, we should find tracks."
"Boot prints masked by brushing leaves as they moved; I spotted them when I arrived," Hawryn says. He points northeast with his index. They went in this direction. "But with this snow they''ll soon be covered, and we have to gather the men. Unless you want to continue with the training."
"Of course not," Liliana confirms, glancing at Sylas. She hesitates for a moment and then orders, "Get everyone back to camp. We need to get to the bottom of this before it gets out of hand."
"We should follow their tracks as far as we can," Sylas comments. A pinch stings his chest as he doubts, worried they could fall into an ambush.
To Liliana''s apparent relief, a young man lying on the ground coughs out a gulp of blood. His chest shivers around the arrow that pierced through his ribs and into his left lung.
"We need to get him to camp first; we have healing supplies there," Liliana says. She moves to his side, motioning for Sylas to come help her. "He might be able to tell us who attacked them."
Chapter 123: Realm of Ascension – Part 4
The drums, thundering to the rhythm of a war tune, grow louder. Their vibrations ripple through the ground and the water, forcing Ethan to cancel predator''s sight.
''I''ve been fighting in the desert for an entire day right after facing your coliseum beasts and a necromancer. Would it be too much to ask for more than five minutes of relaxation?'' Ethan grumbles internally. Inspecting himself, he notes that his wounds are healed as if they never occurred, but his life force was also restored. He leaves the water and summons fire in his hands to dry his skin before summoning his clothes.
The doors that appeared are made of rough, thick wood planks poorly cut with an axe, leaving countless splinters. Light pierces its imperfections, casting rays into the room.
Ethan places a hand on each door and pushes them open with a long, creaking whine. It reveals an ochre mountain path leading up towards the peak. He starts walking forward, approaching the path''s edge to glance at where he is.
Ethan looks in the distance to see a far-reaching, desolate landscape of ochre, barren stone lands through holes in the clouds. Tall trees with sparse leaves dot the landscape like taller Earth''s acacias. A shroud takes over Ethan''s mind, and he breathes in deeply, sensing the air''s thinness.
Below him, on each side of a stair path leading down the mountain, Ethan sees the dozens of Orcs striking the drums that echo around. They wear red robes that hang off one shoulder and are tied at the waist by a rope, revealing their muscular physique. Several men are among them, wearing the same clothes and striking their instrument in the same, rhythmic manner.
To the side, thirty meters further along his path, Ethan spots two Orcs grappling with each other. The smallest lunges below the guard of his opponent to catch his legs and throw him onto his back.
"What am I here for?" Ethan mutters. By the look of it, he may be asked to beat these warrior monks in martial arts.
"This place is a temple where countless warriors spent their lives bettering their skills," the realm''s owner says. He manifests from a rising plume of smoke, a sorrowful expression etched on his face. "Many promising mortals I welcomed to my realm came from here. But it doesn''t exist anymore; only its ruins remain in the Dunharel desert."
"Is that why you look so sad? You said your role is to assert mankind''s strength; I''m guessing it''s a great loss for you," Ethan comments.
"Quite," the man confirms. He starts walking up the path, motioning for Ethan to follow him.
"Will you answer my question now? Why and how are humans from Earth able to manipulate Ether?" Ethan asks.
"After this next step, as a reward for your hard work," the man denies. They reach another set of doors, and he pushes them open, revealing a courtyard carved into the mountain''s relief.
An Orc with long, braided gray hair and beard sits cross-legged in the center, meditating in the noon sun. His skin is saggy, but he still retains a massive build. Despite his aged traits, Ethan recognizes the face he fought with minutes ago.
"We are seventy years after the alignment of the overworld and Varnokh, near the end of his life," the man explains. "After the defeat of his people, he dedicated his life to martial perfection. Only a handful of his contemporaries were a match for his might and technique. Noble sons sailed the seas to come to his retreat, seeking mentorship."
"What killed him?" Ethan asks, curious but expecting it to be old age.
"His heart gave out. If they don''t die in battle, Orcs'' life expectancy averages eighty years. He exceeded that by three decades," the man explains.
"What am I supposed to do?" Ethan asks, circling the Orc from a safe distance.
"By climbing to my domain, you proved yourself worthy of my attention," the Orc growls in Eldorian. He rises to his feet to meet Ethan''s eye level and holds his hand before himself, clasped as if he were holding an invisible sword. His eyes are locked on Ethan, but his expression is devoid of emotion, making him look like an expectant teacher.
Ethan glances where the man was and finds an empty spot. Summoning Stormshard, he comments, "We fought side by side, but I don''t know your name. Would you be so inclined as to tell me how I should address you?"
"I don''t remember sharing the battlefield with you," the Orc denies. A smoke rises from the ground and passes over him, remodeling his shape to sit him back on the ground. He opens his eyes and rises once more. "By climbing to my domain, you proved yourself worthy of my attention."
''Got the message,'' Ethan thinks, convinced he''s not allowed to share his previous experience with the Orc. Triggering Strengthening, he falls into a fencing stance, his left arm behind his back. "How may I address you?"
"You may call me Razak," the Orc replies. He falls back into stance, closing his hand around the air. The surrounding threads of Ether spiral into a vortex that sinks towards Razak''s hand. The Orc swings, and his weapon appears as a buzzing shimmer of the light ¨C a straight, guardless blade the length of a long sword.
''Does he have depth perception issues?'' Ethan asks himself, the attack falling short by several meters. He peers into the Ether to analyze the blade but sees a wave moving towards him, cutting the threads it crosses. With a sidestep, Ethan avoids the invisible attack, watching as it reaches the wall behind him. The blade passes through the stone or vanishes as it touches it, causing no damage to the carved stone wall.
Razak follows up with a second slash. The energy blade he casts becomes visible but moves faster than the first one.
Ethan lunges below the attack, thrusting his sword at Razak''s throat as it coats with cracks of lightning.
The Orc sidesteps with minimal effort, causing Ethan''s blade to miss him by a millimeter. He counters with a downward strike, forcing Ethan to leap back and to the side, avoiding the propelled blade.A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.
The pace accelerates, Ethan''s and Razak''s attacks becoming faster and more powerful as they gauge each other. Their blades clash with metallic clangs despite the unnaturalness of the Orc''s weapon.
Mid-swing, Razak grabs his blade with his left hand, and his weapon grows; his enhanced length reaches above Ethan.
Ethan raises Stormshard in time to block the vertical strike that hammers him into the ground. His joints spark with pain under the force, but it is the invisible blade that strikes him the hardest. It doesn''t cut or batter him, but the moment it passes through him, his Ether rushes away, spewing out of his skin. The sudden void takes his strength away, bringing him to one knee.
Razak''s knee slams into Ethan''s sternum, sending him skidding across the stone floor. Without pause, he swings his blade in the air, launching an attack that pursues Ethan.
The air rushes from Ethan''s lungs, but he forces himself to stand, gathering back his Ether to restore Strengthening. ''Weapon aura,'' he thinks as he swings, casting a blade of lightning at Razak''s translucent wave.
The blades collide into a short-lived typhoon that throws around the room''s contents.
The Orc closes his fists, lunging at Ethan to throw a right punch at his face.
Coating his blade with a Flame spell, Ethan slashes at Razak''s approaching fist. Stormshard skids off Razak''s fists, deflected to the side as if it struck impenetrable steel.
Razak''s fist slams into Ethan''s stomach with a force that sends him staggering. The Orc follows through, twisting his torso and legs to throw his other fist at Ethan.
Ethan stumbles, his breath knocked out of him. He adjusts his stance, his eyes locked on the Orc''s hands. Coming at a perpendicular angle, he succeeds in blocking the next punch, but another is already coming.
Each impact sends waves of pain through Ethan''s arms as he searches for a pattern in the timing of Razak''s attacks. He notices that the Orc favors his right side, his left strikes coming a fraction of a second slower.
Ethan snaps his left hand''s fingers as he attacks Razak''s left fist. The Silence spell makes Razak''s shimmering gauntlets vanish, and Ethan smirks as he commits fully to his attack.
Razak opens his left hand and presses his palm on Stormshard''s flat, moving Ethan''s sword to the side. Twisting his chest, he punches Ethan in the stomach with his right fist, squeezing blood out of Ethan''s mouth.
''Fuck!'' Ethan curses, pain sparking in his chest as he feels his lowest two ribs snapping. He hunches forward as the punch propels him into a wall, protecting his head from the impact suffered by his back.
Razak follows up by ramming his shoulder into Ethan''s chest, digging him into the wall. He grabs Stormshard''s guard and throws the blade away, Ethan unable to unsummon it because of Silence.
Ethan groans as his chest throbs with pain, his vision blurring. He brings his left elbow down on Razak''s back, aiming for the spot between the Orc''s shoulder blades. The impact is solid, but Razak barely flinches.
"You''ll have to do better than that, human!" Razak growls. He moves back to give himself the room to twist his torso for another punch.
Ethan ducks under Razak''s next attack and delivers an uppercut to the Orc''s chin. The impact sends Razak staggering back, giving Ethan an instant to catch his breath. The pains in his chest flare as he inhales, cutting his breathing short.
Razak spits blood onto the stone ground. Ethan''s Silence spell comes to its natural end, and the Orc restores the aura surrounding his hands like gauntlets.
Ethan summons the Purgatory Hands, coating them in Weapon Aura to counter Razak''s power.
Razak lunges forward, his aura-clad fist moving in a blur.
Ethan meets the attack head-on, the impact of their fists sending shockwaves through the air.
Ethan''s ribs scream in protest with each movement, but he ignores the pain. Each exchange of blows between them echoes through the courtyard''s ground and walls. Soon, the fight devolves into a brutal brawl.
Ethan''s right fist connects with Razak''s jaw, sending the Orc''s head whipping back. He hesitates to use the opportunity to cast a debilitating hex but refrains; this is too rare an opportunity to train his hand-to-hand skills.
Razak retaliates with a knee to Ethan''s stomach and fast jabs to the face; he narrowly dodges with last instant upper body side jerks. Razak smiles as his attacks miss. He lowers himself before extending his entire body into a punch aimed at Ethan''s chest ¨C a perfect attack. The chain of muscles used by the Orc extends the entire length of his body from his feet to his fist.
Ethan brings his open hand to deflect the attack to the side, but it carries too much strength, and his arm buckles under it. Never has he seen such a perfect move outside of katas, and the pain it inflicts speaks volumes. In an instant, Ethan''s stance is broken as he''s hurled into the same wall as before and bounces back to fall flat on the ground.
Razak jumps after Ethan to kick him into the ground with both legs.
Not wanting to test this realm''s resurrections, Ethan summons his life force into his Ether and bursts to the other side of the room. His body screams in pain, several more of his ribs broken by Razak''s punch. He inhales deeply, ignoring the agony as he gives in to the thrill of battle, focusing only on the Orc.
Razak laughs again, his deep voice making it seem like distant thunder. He relaxes his body an instant before hurling himself at Ethan with a thunderclap.
Ethan opens his palm to catch Razak''s punch and turns around, bringing Razak over his shoulder before throwing him on the ground. The Orc impacts the stone floor with the full force of his attack, face first. Still holding the Orc''s arm, Ethan spins, twisting Razak''s shoulder out of its socket.
Razak kicks the ground, propelling himself into the air. His abled arm backhands Ethan''s shoulder, forcing him to let go as he moves back. The Orc lands on his feet and grabs his dislocated arm, resetting it with a pop.
Ethan closes the distance, throwing quick jabs that land on Razak''s guard as he raises his arms. Seeing his opponent''s high guard, Ethan kicks him in the liver, but to his surprise, the Orc doesn''t flinch.
Razak capitalizes on Ethan''s need to restore his balance after his kick and grabs both of Ethan''s forearms. Razak headbutts Ethan, but the latter lowers his head and propels his skull into the Orc''s nose, making him let go of his arms.
Ethan catches Razak''s head, drags it down, and hurls his knee into his nose, sending him reeling back. Exceeding Strengthening''s limit with his life-force enhanced Ether, Ethan hurls his fist at Razak''s head. He pours his entire weight behind it, twisting his torso and legs for maximum impact.
A shimmer of light shields Razak''s face, as if he formed a piece of plate armor above his skin at the last moment. Ethan punches through it, breaking the shimmering form into countless dust-like shards. Razak rolls his head with the impact and spits blood, staring at Ethan. His left hand grabs Ethan''s right arm, anchoring him as he throws his right fist into Ethan''s sternum.
Ethan staggers back, unable to breathe. Black veins rise along his neck, and he feels himself becoming weaker as he consumes too much of his life force.
Razak throws a punch at the air, and a wave of translucent Ether passes through Ethan, squeezing the Ether out of his body. He falls onto his back, unable to move as he suffers the over-Strengthening backlash.
An audience formed at the door''s frame, staring bewildered at Ethan and Razak. They are the many Orcs and men who were training and drumming outside. Some look around the room, their jaws lowering as they see the large amounts of blood.
"Melee Weapon (Long Sword) leveled up. Melee Weapon (Gauntlets) leveled up (x10). Life force manipulation leveled up."
Razak extends a hand for Ethan to take and pulls him to his feet. He turns towards the monk-looking men and Orcs. "I believed I told you to enter this room only when you''re convinced you can best me."
Stress rises in the crowd as they cower back, slowly moving back outside.
"No matter. This one here has proven quite capable, and I want a feast to celebrate his coming," Razak says with a growled laugh. He turns towards Ethan to add, "That is, if you plan to stay with us and take part in our quest for strength."
"For now," Ethan replies, short of breath.
"Then it is decided!" Razak exclaims, clapping Ethan''s back with his massive hand, emptying the air from his lungs. "I have wine older than you that will heal those little wounds."