《The Wandering Sword's Apocalypse Event. [A litrpg progression epic]》


 Chapter 1. The beauties and the boy.

    He had been going too fast, and when he saw those weird cosplayers in the middle of the street, he couldn''t stop in time. So he decided to swerve around them, hence his current predicament. Were his treads failing him? The car couldn''t stop sliding, yet he could feel and hear the result of the rough road rubbing against his tires.


    The sirens were loud in the distance. He couldn''t but thank whatever watched over the earth that there were no other cars on the road this late in the night. He wrestled with his wheel, doing his best to stop the skidding. Why was the police guy still blaring his damn sirens, couldn''t he see Rafe was trying his best to stop the crush?


    He ignored the sirens for now, a vice grip on the wheel and all his considerable lower body strength focused on the brakes. He didn''t crush into the rails, and all that skidding was well worth it.


    ¡°...shiiiit¡­ did I just perform my first real life drift? Is that what a drift feels like?¡±


    His heart was pumping like crazy.


    The knocking on the passenger side window woke him from his revelry. He winced when he noticed the one and only officer of the law in little old Crosshill town. With an imperceptible sigh, he rolled down the window, trying to mimick that charming smile that little sophomore bastard had. He almost swore that little shit must have used that same smile to get to Sandra. And the whole team had known he wanted her back, he''d told them as much.


    ¡°Rafael Kingsley¡­¡± the man almost whispered the name, but Rafe heard him. ¡°What has gotten into you of late? I was just on the way to your home after receiving reports of some kind of party, and then I find you in the middle of a suicide attempt?¡±


    Suicide attempt? Rafe inwardly scoffed. It was those weirdos in the middle of the street, and they hadn''t even reacted when he hooted. And that damn party¡­


    ¡°Come on, mister Anderson. It was those weirdos back there who¡­¡±


    He couldn''t believe his eyes. Sure, it was a little dark now, but he''d seen them clear as day. There had been two women dressed in some weird shit he couldn''t quite recall. Then what he could only hope was a man built like an oak and dressed in medieval knights armour. It had been so clear, even the greenish gems behind them that he suspected were part of some prop they were carrying around to liven up their nerdy pictures or whatever.


    Officer Anderson turned around to scan the street as well, and he turned back to Rafe with a skeptical look.


    ¡°Let me smell your breath kid.¡±


    And before Rafe could react the man had leaned forward and sniffed his open mouth, open in disbelief over what he couldn''t see.


    There was no way the weirdos had escaped. There was nothing but the road for as far as the eye could see. On the one side was an ascending cliff, and on the other a rail that protected cars and pedestrians from falling into a descending cliff. There was really nowhere to go on this stretch of hill, that Rafe knew of.


    ¡°Jesus Christ, kid! What the hell is going on with you? Why the hell did you kids even throw a party tonight? You lost, again! Your team has crashed out of the tournament, for all I''m aware.¡±


    Rafe still couldn''t get his mind off the life like hallucinations he''d just seen. He hadn''t cared about the women''s clothing, because they were beautiful, he could admit. That make up made them look otherworldly, maybe he could get some for Sandra. Their faces gleamed, their eyes shone, one the blue of the ocean, and their pupils were gigantic, the most elaborate contacts he''d ever seen.


    But now he could remember one wearing what looked like a sword. What was in those drinks, he couldn''t help but wonder. When had a little smoke ever flown him so high?


    ¡°I''m going to be telling your aunt about this, you hear me?¡±


    This finally got his attention. He frowned at the man, wondering why he was so obsessed with the damn woman. If he loved her so much, why hadn''t he asked her out when she was still here.If you stumble upon this tale on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.


    He scoffed. ¡°Yeah, maybe you''ll get lucky and she won''t ignore your call this time. She probably knows it''s you too. She is just not interested.¡±


    ¡°What are you talking about?¡±


    ¡°She is not interested in you!¡± he screamed.


    The officer took a step back, looking at him with wide eyes. Yeah, Rafe thought smugly, I know. He didn''t know what he knew, but he knew it was important. He should be happy he knew what he knew, but¡­


    ¡°She is not interested¡­¡± he said in a small voice. ¡°Not in you, in me, in this damn hill. She''s like them, they just left me here.¡±


    By the end, his sight had gone blurry, his head too heavy that his chin now rested on his chest. He heard the officer sigh, then head over and pat him on the head.


    ¡°She will come back champ. She stayed in this place twenty five years, it''s her home.¡±


    It was her home, Rafe thought, until he''d showed up and somehow drove her from it. It didn''t even surprise him she''d left. He only wished he''d known why. He''d tried so hard to be a good guest, because he wasn''t going to stay here forever. At least he wasn''t supposed to.


    ¡°I think I''ll be keeping your car for a while, until I can get in touch with any adults in charge of you¡­¡±


    Yeah, Rafe wasn''t holding his breath. He''d get his car back in a week or two, after the officer gave up on trying to contact his family. Now he had the problem of having to get back home on foot somehow.


    Only, did he want to go back home to that damn ghost house? It was isolated, even for a place as isolated as Crosshill town, and it was big and there was no one there but him. Well, no one most nights. Tonight, he''d left Charlie sucking Sandra''s face in his own bedroom.


    That little shit! He didn''t have the concept of team work in him. Sure he had more skill in basketball, and maybe he even had hopes of going pro one day, but he was the reason the team had lost the whole year. If Rafe had been on that court¡­


    What would he have done? He sighed loudly. The guy is one year younger, and he stole my number. Because he is better. The only reason Rafe would ever play was because he was reliable, predictable. He knew the rules and all the basics, and almost nothing else. His play style was boring, even he would admit to himself. Now that same guy stole his girl even as he watched.


    He watched the officer chain his car. He couldn''t afford to witness anymore, he''d lost too much in one night. He heard the officer''s car start, but he didn''t turn.


    Unconsciously, his feet led him to that place he''d seen the hallucinations. He didn''t know how he knew they''d been here, he just knew. There was nothing there now. The rumbling of the engine receded. Rafe sighed, and turned around to start the trek home. No one was going to help him clean the stupid house, after all.


    A green light flashed in front of him. Tracing it''s path, he found that it was coming from behind him, from that same spot. He gulped, nervous for some unknown reason.


    He turned at once, searching each and every part of the street frantically. There was nothing. He sighed. Why the hell was he seeing things?


    He turned around, and walked straight into two otherworldly beautiful women and a giant in a suit of armour.


    He didn''t immediately walk into them. He walked into the bright green gem light. He would have stopped then but for his momentum. The next thing he knew he was stuck in what he could only describe as an invisible curtain. It was the same as bumbling in a bunch of cloth, although it seemed thicker and more viscous. And he couldn''t move backwards even if he tried.


    It was painless, at first. And then it felt like his whole body was on fire,and there were worms moving around and biting him with the tiniest mandibles , and his head was pounding, and his body was torn into a thousand pieces, and the smallest bit of an electric shock, only it was perennial, and¡­


    He landed on rough ground on all fours. It was rough and hot, and even the palm of his hands was scratched and charred. His jeans were torn around the knees, and his knees smarted.


    He was breathing rough, and he could still feel echoes of that internal pain, like he''d been roasted from the inside. He heard a gasp and a shout that could only be a warning. He opened his eyes and stared into two shocked faces. They would have been three if the giant didn''t have a helmet covering his face, he was sure.


    They were really pretty, those women. One had flowing lilac hair and matching eyes and the other had the most beautiful blue hair.


    Something flashed red in the corner of his vision, and that was the only reason he took his eyes off the group. There was a blue screen in front of him, like a computer screen with an outdated user interface, although it was flashing red for some reason.


    ¡®Ding¡¯ You have entered the Sailam dungeon.


    ¡®Warning! Warning! Warning!


    User: Rafael Kingsley


    Race: Human


    Status: Marked for tutorial


    Warning: Your level is too low for this dungeon. You are advised to exit it at your earliest convenience.¡¯


    There were more messages too, from what he could see, but something distracted him. He had only looked away from the triad in front of him for a fraction of a second, but one was already gone.


    And she was approaching him. The woman with the lilac hair and matching eyes, and he couldn''t follow her movements with his eyes. His heartbeat skyrocketed, and it wasn''t in anticipation.


    He didn''t even get to feel pain, but he was able to follow her last movement. She set her feet, then lifted one off the ground in an impossible show of flexibility. The leg kept climbing up and up, and then it descended.


    The first thing he noticed when he came to was that he couldn''t feel the pain, or much of anything really. Then the pain of being in that curtain, but this time it was magnified.


    His eyes, or at least one of them, were not working. His eye sight was red. It was all red. He turned his sight to his left somehow, to the blue screen that was still blaring out warnings. This time the warning seemed different though.


    ¡®Warning! Warning! Warning!


    Dying status effect applied.¡¯


    He was dying. He''d suspected it, but it was much harder to come to grips with. It didn''t matter though. He was sure the pain of being stuck in that thick invisible curtain had lasted longer than it had before. He was sure. Dying wouldn''t be too bad, if it could save him from this and the pain he was sure to go through should the pain in his head start to be felt.


    ¡®Ding¡¯ You have entered the Sailam dung...


    ¡®Ding¡¯ conditions met:


    Low level user critically injured in a high level challenge.


    User has been invited to the skyholm legacy trial.


    Would you like to accept. Y/N

 Chapter 2: A legacy of gods and swords (1).

    He didn''t think about it for long. Sure, he''d thought about dying to spare himself the pain, but really what was a little pain. Or a little more pain in any case.


    He didn''t have enough time to come up with expectations, but the fact that his pain seemed to vanish into thin air was a wonderful result. His vision was no longer blocked by blood, and the vision in front of him was surprising.


    There was a man, a boy really, a bit younger than him even. The boy was in a state, a state perhaps similar to what he himself was pretty sure he was in right now. The boy was covered in blood, his own and an enemy''s. An enemy whom he''d left behind him dead and cut to pieces.


    The boy was dying, after having fought what looked like a giant rat. Rafe watched something separate itself from the beast, something that seemed both spiritual and physical. How he knew it was spiritual, he couldn''t tell.


    All he knew was that it oozed out among the beast''s blood, but there was an ethereal quality to it that he would never have confused with blood. It oozed toward the crawling boy. All but one of the boy''s limbs were the wrong angle, but he still had the desire to survive, to live.


    When the ooze made contact with him, he screamed. Then the scene in front of him changed, and instead there were two boys. It took him a second to recognize the second figure, with it''s head caved in on one side, even a bit of brain matter licking out. Blood flowed over it, like he''d been wrung out like a rug, his poor body.


    Rafe Kingsley gulped. His clothes had been cut up by something, and¡­it was sickening. His poor ¡®beautiful¡¯ face, his painstakingly developed physique. He was almost dead. But then the ethereal ooze made contact with his body, and then they screamed in tandem.


    All his pains came back, but it almost seemed like he''d miraculously received an increased pain capacity. He could feel it all, and so much more. He could feel every little break in his smallest bones, every painful twitch of every muscle, the blood and sweat flowing on his skin. He could feel his cracked skull, he could feel his brain going into shock even though he knew he had somehow survived death.


    He knew his brain was shutting down, and maybe that was why he paid so much attention to the new visions playing out before him now.


    The first was of a very familiar young man, now a few years older. He held a sword in his hands, and he swung it with the most beautiful form, but it was the colour he shorn, the light he gave off that was his true power.


    It was magic, violent light. His brown hair shorn a vibrant stellar silver, and his eyes twinkled like a night sky. His skin seemed to have a sun under it, and when he ran towards his enemy the ground cracked.


    The first Skyholm, aspect of the transcendent light,the sword, the lost weapon, and four others. But his path had been mostly built on an innate ability he''d been born with. One that made him a genius.


    In the scene he saw, the boy fought a man who was definitely stronger than him. Still, he made the first move, a streak of light attacking a staff wielding juggernaut. The weapons clashed, and the boy was thrown back. The man also took a step back.


    The older man smirked in self confidence, then covered his body in a layer of electricity as he attempted to take the boy down. He might have been weaker, but Rafe couldn''t make sense of his battle instincts. They clashed for a few minutes, too fast for Rafe to follow, but then he could almost follow them for a few seconds.


    The staff wielder feinted right, making the boy dodge toward the left where his fist waited with a coating of electricity. It was a very good feint, but the boy, the first Skyholm, bent his body impossibly without even seeing what was coming, the fist only taking a piece of his robe. The staff made a comeback immediately on his right, but the boy was already jumping into close range with what looked like electricity on his own fist, albeit it was weaker than the man''s.


    You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.


    It connected, and didn''t do much, but it enraged the man. And the few seconds he was able to follow flowed like that. It almost seemed like the boy was trying to close his eyes even, like his eyes were getting in the way. And that electricity, Rafe thought, the weaker one the boy was wielding. It was from his aspect of the lost weapon, the ooze that had bound his soul.


    He did not know how he knew these things, or even what an aspect was.


    Seeing another scene begin before his eyes had him sighing in relief, although he didn''t know why.


    The second Skyholm. The best thief the universe ever saw. She was a lowly adventurer on her world early on, and only joined a few parties because she had a rare storage ability. Her affinity with shadows though, was so high. High enough that she was able to combine her soul with her shadow, and with her storage ability to build an inner world. According to the information he had, even after her death, her personal shadow verse should still exist.


    In the scene he saw, the woman tried to escape from a world sized city. The building she was in was apparently the central palace. She seemed to be trapped, surrounded in a building of violet sand crystals that must have absorbed light during the day so they could shine perpetually through the night. There were lots of shadows, but there was much more light. And it seemed she had been expected.


    She sighed and grabbed two tiny knives from sheathes hidden somewhere on her body. A golden armoured man stepped forward from among all the surrounding men.


    She smiled seductively, her black hair neatly knotted behind her head. The trash talk was blocked out, although Rafe wasn''t sure by whom. When the two combatants met, it was obvious the man was stronger. But the smile never left the woman''s face, even when a wickedly sharp gladius came for her neck after not even thirty seconds of battle.


    He cut her down. And as the blood flew into the air, it turned dark, and the falling corpse turned black too. They all turned into shadows.


    ¡°A shadow clone? But¡­ she wasn''t robbing the central palace then?¡± the leader asked no one in particular.


    ¡°But, the information said she was going to steal the most important thing in our possession. What could she¡­?¡±


    And Rafe watched the minute the man realized something. He had only turned to shout instructions when the alarms started to blare.


    And then a giant shadow appeared at the closest window. The window the shadow clone had been retreating to since she had been first sighted. The remnants of the shadow clone withdrew into the shadow cloud. Then a small window towards it''s top opened and out came what looked like the giant barrel of a gun.


    It shone with power, and all this had taken the fraction of a second in which the gold armoured man would have spoken. The beam of cosmic power struck behind the man, and men and pillars fell.


    A laugh sounded out from the shadows.


    ¡°Endrick you fool. What is more important to a kingdom than it''s king? I am the greatest thief, I always steal what I said I would. Destroying your ugly ass palace will just be a bonus. An impregnable fortress,¡± she scoffed.


    And then multiple windows opened, and the shadow cloud swelled. There were blusters, and there were oddly shaped tools and even simple clothes with odd symbols shining with power. And they fell upon the palace, and destroyed it and everyone and everything in it with not even a speck of dust left to see.


    ¡°Oops! Maybe I went a bit overboard. Destroying half the planet was not part of the contract¡­ Ah, well, at least I have learnt that mixing too many destructive magics like this is not advisable for small scale jobs, for wide spread destruction however¡­¡± and she laughed.


    And the scene shifted again.


    The third skyholm. He too was humanoid, but this time there were differences from the other two. Sure, the queen of shadows had a lot of her face hidden in her shadows, and her dark hair normally covered up what was left, but he was reasonably sure she was a human woman.


    This man was taller than normal. What''s more, he had wings. Wings not of anything physical like feathers, but of something ethereal. The people Rafe saw in the background seemed to have wings of fire, or lightning, or ice.


    In the time when the rest of the guardians became most active, the third Skyholm tried to unite the others in keeping peace in the multiverse.


    Too bad his own planet was in the middle of an interspecies war. One in which the other guardians seemed intent on meddling.


    And so at one meeting of the multiverse elite, Skyholm complained.


    ¡°This iteration of the war has taken much longer than it was supposed to. If it goes on too much, one of the races shall be extinct.¡±


    ¡°And what do you expect from us then, Skyholm?¡±


    ¡°Stop meddling. People of our power should not mess with the lives of mortals.¡±


    ¡°But yours is an interesting world. The people, of all races are born with innate affinities, and your species can even use elemental energy to fly. Maybe we might find someone with a rare affinity like yours to pass our mantles to as well.¡±


    ¡°Ah, so that is what this is about. The fact that the Skyholm mantle has already been passed down twice and none of you old bastards want yours to be handed down.¡±


    Skyholm surveyed the others arrayed before him. All Rafe could see though, when he surveyed the other six, were colours, just like he''d seen when he first stared at Skyholm¡¯s wings.


    Skyholm snorted. ¡°You selfish bastards. I always thought my rise to this mantle was easier than any of the others. Maybe putting you old coots in line was always meant to be my biggest contribution to the universe. Even gods need rules.¡±


    And in a burst of transcendent aura that hurt Rafe to look at, a battle broke out. Six against one, and with every fist thrown, every breath of fire, every clash of words of power, galaxies were razed. This then, was what was possible at the highest level.


    Rafe still didn''t get to find out what this magical being''s path was about. Apparently it was not suitable for him. There were more scenes to see though.

 Chapter 3: A legacy of gods and swords (2).

    The fourth Skyholm did not have magic. At least not in the traditional sense. To Rafe, he seemed positively divine. He was a warrior. A pure warrior and nothing else. Although a warrior who could crash a small hill with a single hop and drop slash was rather over powered.


    Still, the battle scene he saw reasonated deeply with him. When slowed down to a crawl, the man just swung his sword in the most basic of movements. His feet moved lightly, all his muscles rigidly controlled through years of undoubtedly gruelling practice. He slashed vertically, slashed horizontally, thrust forward, took a half step back to dodge by a hair''s width and then he was there again, a flurry of small cuts appearing on his enemy''s body.


    And then he changed his stance to a crouched stance, and iron sung, and clanged, and blood spurted, and the dance went on. Parry, slash, thrust, back step, dodge, parry, counter, and again.


    It was a simple swordsman duel. Rafe was sure the men didn''t even intend to kill each other. Why then did the fourth Skyholm choose this particular duel to showcase his path? Was it even his choice? Who even made this ¡­legacy trial?


    It was the simplest vision. A few fantastical looking movements here and there, but most of the time it was just two swordsmen exchanging blows with utmost efficiency. It was beautiful.


    Still, the visions moved forward.


    The fifth Skyholm was the only other non human, although she did appear as a beautiful human woman with crimson hair meditating in peace before she was attacked.


    The fifth Skyholm, matriarch of the nest of fiery fate. Her chosen concept was one of fate, and the battle she chose was one that never happened. One that should have, though. The battle for the end of the universe.


    When the demon god attacked her, she had been a woman meditating among celestial bodies. It seemed Rafe was being shown another vision of a god level battle, whatever that meant.


    They fought for decades, for centuries even. But this was a different fight from that of the third Skyholm. The woman had transformed into a bird, a familiar looking fantastic beast of fiery feathers.


    Only it''s flames were white instead of crimson and yellow. It still healed though. The demon king seemed to be concepted with wide spread destruction. Almost any movements he made had a celestial body set to exploding.


    Yet the fire bird was it''s natural counter. Every one of her movements rebirthed the galaxy, and so like that, a concept of absolute anhillation and a concept of rebirth clashed at the highest level. And none could find any leverage for centuries.


    That is, until something distracted the fire bird. Rafe saw it too. The moment a thread of fate moved away from it''s path, and the fire bird lost it''s head before it could even follow the distraction to it''s natural end.


    The demon god pounced on its decapitated enemy and reigned destruction infused blows with impunity, the galaxy they were in darkened with the advent of the void.This novel''s true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there.


    Then the fire burned brighter for a few moments, and the fire bird was reborn in all it''s glory. It took a lot out of it, holding absolute anhillation and the void back on it''s own. She cursed the old guardians for their folly. She had no doubt in her mind they''d orchestrated this whole ordeal. She had known they would, for she had reached the pinnacle of the concept of fate. This was the fate of the universe though. One universe had to end for another to be born in its ashes, and use the dead universe''s core as it''s own life giving essence.


    It would take an anomaly to stop such fate. An anomaly like what had distracted her. An anomaly where a thousands years old enchantress performed a grand ritual to make her younger self the strongest being in the universe.


    ¡°She created such an interesting ability¡­¡± the phoenix thought as a piece of her mind watched the thread that had interested her.


    A young girl, not even nine yet sat in a burning cave. Her whole world had been uppended on that day, a mentor had betrayed her, and her family was no where to be seen, but beside her was a blue screen Rafe found familiar. The first such ability in the known universe.


    The phoenix vision bled into the next. A bit of a montage of the young anomaly''s life. She too was a genius. Like the first, so too the last.


    The sixth Skyholm, the enchantress, colonist of the void, protector of life, defier of the end times, the strongest god the multiverse ever did, and ever will, see. The last Skyholm.


    She entered the stream of fate, the enchantress did, and even before she had ascended to their level, bore witness to the fight for the end of the universe. And she would not let it come to pass.


    She was a spell sword, is what she called herself. An anomaly not even the first Skyholm could rival. The first Skyholm had seven aspects or affinities or concepts, but he only got them after a freak accident left him with a fractured soul. Something that would have killed many was an opportunity for him. The enchantress was born with her soul strong enough to have six aspects already, albeit she could only have the weakest aspects.


    Still, a little hard work to strengthen her soul was nothing to the woman. She formed her own sword style, a style where she used a long whip imbued with a mana so pure it had never been seen before her time.


    With a flick of her wrist, the enchantress summoned her whip, still watching the battle that could have crushed any lesser being. And then the whip started to levitate slowly as she imbued mana into it.


    One of her eyes was bigger, shone almost like a borne fire seen from atop a hill on a dark night. There was a vertical scratch on the eye lids, showing that maybe she''d lost that eye once, and now it had been replaced by a phoenix eye.


    Her eye shone, she took a stance, and none of the other two combatants noticed her. The shine in her prosthetic eye intensified when the whip shot forward, and the concept of destruction was held at bay for a couple of seconds as the sharp whip with the pure mana invaded the demon''s body.


    The phoenix with the white fire took her chance as well, tearing through her opponent''s chest with her sharpened claws and not bothering to remove it''s heart but instead dumping her immortal flames inside it.


    When the concept of destruction escaped it''s leash, it destroyed the pure mana ravaging demon''s body, and all the wounds it had suffered too. The fire came back though. For it was immortal.


    And the enchantress joined the fray in earnest. Her sucker blow had not been enough to win the fight for the universe, but such was the fate of a weaker concept fighting against a fully realized concept at the pinnacle. The demon soon realised fighting two opponents at once might be too much for it.


    Rafe noticed a smile on the enchantress¡¯ face as the demon god decided to take her out of the picture before he returned to fighting the fires ravaging his soul.


    ¡°Fuck the pinnacle,¡± she said. ¡°There is always higher to climb, and I''ve already deviated from your structured paths. The pinnacle is nothing to me, because I will surpass it!¡±


    The last was a shout, and as she said it a scythe appeared in her hand. One covered in runes of blood, one that spoke of laws yet unknown, yet unseen. In her other hand appeared a lantern with a flame burning in it. A terrible flame no body should look at. Not even Rafe who was just a projection could avoid the feeling of his head splitting into thousands, he could only imagine what the demon lord felt in that moment.


    And then the scythe, almost as terrible as the fire, but not quite. With it''s descent, the universe froze for a moment. The heavens weeped for a moment as a pinnacle being, the holder of a mantle of authority, died.


    The phoenix was knocked out in the background. The enchantress approached her, took something out of her very soul, although she didn''t do it out of malice. It was the mantle of Skyholm, that she had earned the right to inherit.


    Then she took the demon''s newly born mantle too, and slipped back into fate. Thus the end of the universe was averted, and a memory the phoenix had lived was made unreal. It was real, in her mind, but it would never come to pass. The universe would not end that way, because the enchantress found another way, another path for the universe, and she held two mantles too.

 Chapter 4: Millennia old virgins.

    Throughout his whole vision phase, he could tell he was still dying, and his brain was eroding too. He was also healing, but the rate of healing could not match his dying. He had forgotten what exactly he was doing here, but he''d made a choice, if that.


    It was his whole thing. Reliability. If his life were a path, Rafael Kingsley only really wanted to be competent. Competent enough to be wanted, to be needed, to not be abandoned. Like a simple swordsman with the simplest sword swings.


    The vision played out before him again. And again, and he forgot everything aside from the swings. He forgot everything about his life, his near death, his family, his team, his girlfriend who sucked face with that annoying kid.


    What annoying little kid though? What family? He couldn''t remember a damn thing. But he had to survive, he had to live, he had chosen to live.


    ****


    Six soul remnants watched a body float in the void, time suspended for it as it was for everything here. Their attention, though, was focused on the blue screen in front of them.


    Name: Rafael Kingsley


    Race: human (lvl-)


    Class: N/A (lvl-)


    Health: 1/50


    Stamina: 35/50


    Stats


    Strength: 5


    Agility: 9


    Coordination: 7


    Vitality: 5


    Endurance: 5


    Intelligence: 3


    Wisdom: 4


    Paranormal: ???


    ¡°Hmm,¡± the enchantress started while she rubbed her chin. ¡°Why have we never thought of offering the legacy to a non integrated person before? This status sheet may shout weak to most, but it says nothing more than potential to me.¡±


    ¡°I think it''s pretty obvious why we''ve never tried that, En,¡± the red haired damsel next to her spoke, ¡°most would never survive a glancing blow from any beast worthy of being in any dungeon. It''s why we set such conditions for the trial.¡±


    ¡°In any case, this boy is very interesting, very raw. Did you notice that skill he learned, before even unlocking the system? You cannot deny this boy is worthy of inheriting my path.¡±


    ¡°No one is worthy, surely, of inheriting the genius of the multiverse,¡± a black haired female spoke. ¡°Besides, what he''s going to get from a skill, you had from an innate bloodline ability or whatever.¡±


    ¡°I never had a bloodline, nor innate ability, only one of us did,¡± the enchantress replied, staring at one of the males, the one who was most focused on the slowly healing body.Support the creativity of authors by visiting the original site for this novel and more.


    ¡°Yes, only one of us did,¡± the male spoke, ¡°and only one of us was unable to pass on their most prised possession as they passed on the mantle of Skyholm. My innate ability could not be transferred through my blood, or through the mantle.¡±


    ¡°Let me guess,¡± another of the males stepped forward, ¡°you wish for the boy to carry on your overpowered bloodline for you?¡±


    The first man shrugged. ¡°I do. And it''s not a bloodline, it''s an innate ability.¡±


    ¡°Same thing,¡± someone commented.


    ¡°Good luck getting them to concede that. I''ve been telling them I didn''t have a bloodline for millenia. My willpower was only a product of my trials as a chi-¡±


    ¡°Yeah, the mother of the system was born a normal person like the rest of us. Shut up, Enith,¡± the thief spoke, ¡°I also think the kid might be good for a rogue like path. He was stuck in that spatial fissure overly long. I feel I could get him a spatial affinity that fast.¡±


    The gigantic man in the corner grunted, but other than that said nothing else. The red haired woman decided to join him in his corner. They had no business joining in this particular discussion.


    ¡°My sword style cannot die with me,¡± Enith shouted.


    ¡°Such a happy accident cannot be dismissed, this is surely fate,¡± the thief cried.


    ¡°I think his little skill, even if it is just basic, might help me graft the strongest lost weapon onto his soul. The time dilation will not affect his mental state at all. You must leave him to me. This is a chance to return the strongest bloodline ability to the multiverse.¡±


    ¡°Hah, so it is a bloodline ability,¡± the thief said smugly.


    ¡°No, it''s not!¡± the enchantress and the first answered together.


    The two stared at each other in surprise and appreciation, and they never noticed the thief looking at them and rolling her eyes, and mouthing something about geniuses having to die, and millenia old virgins and the like.


    Someone cleared their throat.


    ¡°So funny and selfless of all of you to make plans for my apprentice. But¡­he is my apprentice.¡±


    The enchantress groaned. ¡°Come on, Noid. This boy would be perfect for an experiment I''ve been thinking of.¡±


    The swordsman shrugged. ¡°You have so many hypothetical experiments, Enith, I''m sure you can think of one to carry out even after I''ve had the kid for a few decades, give or take a century.¡±


    ¡°Century? Surely you don''t plan to keep him under time dilation this extreme that long?¡± The first asked.


    ¡°What does it matter. I''ve never had an apprentice finish what I felt was the appropriate time a swordsman should. I''m not letting go of an apprentice who conveniently forgot everything about their old life. This whole scenario is perfect.¡±


    The other three groaned. They did have rules, and the boy had gravitated towards the swordsman. There really was nothing they could do.


    ¡°Well, a century might be over stated depending on how he performs. Remember I prefer to train mine without the system and what not. That kind of thing makes soft warriors, warriors always ready for their mother to bail them out. In our time¡­¡±


    ¡°Yeah, yeah. The system did make me, you know?¡± the enchantress quizzed.


    Everyone in the room just stared at her until she snorted and clicked her tongue in annoyance.


    ¡°Does it matter if I take the boy? He''ll only ever be able to leave here after his body is healed, not to mention his soul. He did get that skill, so we can expect him to at least have a strong enough mental state and will power to survive extreme time dilation, even the void. In fact, he might even have a void affinity by the time he leaves the trial.¡±


    By the end of his speech, the two women were following his explanation like two victims of hypnosis. They stared at each other with stars in their eyes. The swordsman shuddered on behalf of the kid.


    ¡°You think the boy''s mental state will survive the amount of time it will take me to graft the librarian onto his soul?¡±


    ¡°Are you sure you want to do that? Although, yes, I''m sure he can survive that long. Is that your contribution then, to making my apprentice a multiversal power house?¡±


    The first shrugged. The enchantress just scoffed, but she looked at the floating body with a little interest. There was already another experiment in her head, the swordsman was sure. She was always quick to bounce back.


    ¡°Good, then,¡± the first spoke again. ¡°You may start your training then. The rest of you should prepare your ¡­gifts, for the latest trial taker. His circumstances do indeed seem ideal, but we cannot control what he''ll do with our gifts.¡±


    All the excitement vanished from the three humans¡¯s faces. The thief really was considering the matter, but the swordsman was sure the enchantress was only thinking about the kind of results she could get from an evil powerhouse.


    He sighed as all six of them went their own way, preparing for the first thing that might have interested them in eons.

 Chapter 5: A nameless soldier.

    Somehow, he''d lost consciousness from all the pain. Which pain though? He couldn''t remember. And why was it so loud?


    He opened his eyes, but the light was too bright. And somehow he was in the middle of a press of bodies. It was anything but comfortable.


    And the smells. He was in a press of bodies, and that liquid that was pouring everywhere, it was red and it was familiar, and it smelled tangy.


    A person in front of him got his head crashed. Something viscous fell on his face. He knew what it was, and he almost lost his lunch over it. His hand was confined, it couldn''t move to free his face, to raise his weapon. He was in the middle of battle, somehow, even though he didn''t know how he''d ended up here. He was going to die, again.


    Again, he thought questioningly, when did I ever die? All around him, warriors got in each other''s way, and he was right in the middle of the melee. An explosion went off behind him.


    He could feel the heat on his back, seinging his shirt, pushing him towards the back of the man or woman in front of him. He bounced on a bark hard back, and this time there was no one behind him to keep him in the scrum. The whole backline had been obliterated by one spell.


    He fell slowly, and the ground behind him was filled with boiling gore.


    He could see the whole cluster falling towards him, their balance messed up with their support in the back obliterated. The column collapsed. He was there, the nameless soldier was, and he fought to breathe as he found himself struggling not to drown in a sea of bodies of which he was at the bottom.


    He struggled, as did everybody, and it seemed like hours before he finally made it and was able to breathe in anything that wasn''t disgusting and tangy and sweaty and or smelled like excrement. His relieved breath didn''t last long.


    Their whole cluster of what could only be amateur soldiers was vulnerable, and the large spell he watched gathering power was ominous.


    It was a large spell, slow. The soldier thought it was the kind of spell a mage couldn''t use in the middle of an intense battle. When your opponents were stuck on the ground though, unable to dodge or counterattack, almost four dozen opponents, to be wiped out in one fell swoop.


    The ice spiralled outwards, and an aura of intense cold emanated from the building mana. The heat of bodies pressed together and the residue heat of the fire spell were useless. Not to mention the swirling storm of cold that kept building was hypnotizing. Still, his fingers were already starting to freeze. And the spell was still just building power.


    And then he appeared, someone the nameless soldier could have sworn he''d seen before. It was a boy, a young boy with long hair tied to the back of his head and terrible scars on one half of his face and strands of white hair mixed in his pony tail.


    He came from the sky, like an avenging god, and cut that swirling representation of power in twain with a descending slash. By the time the view cleared, tens of enemy combatants lay on the ground in front of him, groaning and screaming in pain, some quiet in one final rest. The mage was in the latter group.If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.


    The boy crouched, his blade held loosely in one hand, it''s tip touching the ground. He added his second hand to the hilt and started performing a series of diagonal slashes, so fast were they and graceful.


    Those in pain were granted early release, and the few who tried to ambush him were summarily dealt with with the simplest swings. None of them was even a match for him.


    The nameless soldier clenched his empty fists. He did not have a weapon anymore, but he would one day. And he would be like that angel of death too.


    It took the fallen soldiers a while to realise the swordsman was waiting for them to collect themselves before he''d move on.


    He didn''t stop there though. Once he realised they were all standing, he instructed them to follow him, and cutting up humans like stalks of wheat, he led them to a rest area.


    ¡°Your first blooding, wasn''t it?¡± the boy asked them after they''d reached the resting area. ¡°Well, it''s not pretty, but you need to get experience somehow. Now, hopefully you''ll know it isn''t good to crowd like that. Makes you susceptible to those simple destructive fire spells.¡±


    No one felt like responding just then, and some even seemed offended. They just might have forgotten this little man saved them a few minutes back, and that he''d killed at least twice their current number, of experienced soldiers no less.


    Before the boy could totally disappear into the background, the nameless soldier stepped forward.


    ¡°I want to be like you. I want to be a swordmaster too.¡±


    The boy stopped and turned to look at the soldier. He smiled indulgently, like he was talking to a precocious child.


    ¡°I''m not a swordmaster yet, chap. I''m pretty close, but I''m not quite there yet. Not in this scenario anyway.¡±


    The boy looked away for a while, then he spent a few moments studying the darkening sky.


    ¡°You are in a war. This is the perfect crucible to build a fighting spirit. Too bad you''re an amateur yet. You''ll likely pick up many bad habits¡­¡±


    He seemed to be talking to himself, so the soldier didn''t reply. Finally the boy shrugged and looked at the soldier with a smile.


    ¡°Listen, I like you man. Here''s a deal, survive to the end of the war, swing your sword at least a thousand times everyday, no, a million times, make that movement as natural as breathing to you. At the end of this conflict, whenever that will be, I will take you to my home with me, teach you the finer points and take care of any bad habits you''ll learn from this whole ordeal. What do you think?¡±


    It took him a few moments to understand the offer, but once he did he nodded his head sharply, and then again, and again.


    ¡°Yes-s¡­sir,¡± he replied.


    The boy nodded his head in acknowledgement and turned away with a smile on his face.


    ****


    A month after his cousin''s graduation, Rafe called his aunt again for the hundredth time. He sighed. Her phone was busy, again. He wondered when she was planning on coming back.


    He shrugged, cleaned the house, went out to get the mail. It was weird. Why the hell was his aunt''s house addressed through his father''s Kingsley name?


    One of the envelopes was empty but for a small rectangular plastic seeming thing. Rafe saw the envelope, the somewhat familiar writing, more formal than he remembered.


    It was addressed to him, a credit card. He didn''t know what to think, he didn''t want to think. The amount on it was crazy, too crazy. A fifteen year old boy bought a sports car.


    And in another world, a nameless soldier woke up with sweat beading on his forehead. It was hours before that day''s deployment, and hours was what he needed.


    He didn''t know how long they''d been fighting this damn war, but he had something to look forward to. At the end, the greatest swordsman he''d yet seen would take him on as a student. He went through a couple of the stances a few reliable veterans had taught him, swung his sword again, again. He didn''t count, he just swung vertically, diagonal from the right, from the left, rinse and repeat.


    His muscles throbbed, the light of the rising sun glistened off drops of his sweat. He did not stop. His breathing was rugged, he could hear the whoosh of the sword''s movement through the still air. He smiled inwardly, making his movements faster and faster. His feet moved in the most basic of patterns he''d seen over many battles.


    The rest of his platoon woke. A new platoon once more. He''d lost three or more by now. He always survived though, always the last man standing somehow, not through better battle awareness or anything. He couldn''t explain it.


    How did he survive all those massive spells. He didn''t want to say it, acknowledge it.


    Five hours later, his troop fell into a trap spell. They did not stand a chance. All their bodies were evaporated, his too. There was no possible way he could have survived that.

 Chapter 6: A soldier who cannot die.

    His current troop was more experienced than any of his previous groups. They had a rotating system where everyone got a chance to rare guard or advance, and a chance to rest cozily in the middle.


    The soldier was in the vanguard when it happened. He was just thinking it was the safest time he''d spent upfront. The safest and most boring.


    How foolish. He didn''t notice the trap until their whole line was well ahead of it, and why should he have, he wasn''t the scout. And his body was in pieces too. A few pieces of it were vapourised in a sickening rusty smoke.


    He was dead. And then he wasn''t. It was not the first time either.


    ¡°...bunch of idiots,¡± one of the enemy scouts was saying.


    The soldier couldn''t hear them well at first, because the explosion had damaged his hearing even before his death and resurrection. Still, he''d found that his resurrection healed everything, even his calluses, leaving him with depressingly soft hands.


    He stayed where he was, quietly stewing while buried in his former comrades¡¯s blood and gore. The enemies were relaxed. And as well they should be. There were hundreds of them, and only one of him.


    But once, an indeterminate amount of time ago, the nameless soldier had seen a single swordsman face off against hundreds and prevail. He could down dozens with a single slash. The soldier might not be at that level yet, but he had his own advantages. His seeming immortality, for one.


    He hadn''t wanted to so much as think of it before, but now it was convenient. He needed to believe he could come back from any type of death, so that when he fought these assholes, he''d hold nothing back. He''d die to take them all down, because he could.


    He jumped out of the gore. He did not know, nor care, what his enemies thought when they saw him. He didn''t even know what this whole war was about to be honest, but he didn''t even know his own name, so that was a moot point.


    He crouched low, the top of his sword touching the ground, both his hands gripping the hilt, and he swung before his enemies could get their heads wrapped around the situation. He swung fast, hard, all his blows critically injuring an opponent. He did not let up, but the enemies recovered fast. Too fast.


    There were so many of them, and most, if not all were stronger than the soldier. He was just more willing to die. A fire ball flew towards him, and he jumped away just in time, only to find an ice lance taking him through one thigh. Still, he lunged forward with a thrust, only for the tip of his sword to clash directly with the tip of another sword.


    A thrusting technique, if ever he''d seen one. He''d been meaning to learn one, but hadn''t found anyone to spar with. Suddenly, a light went off in his head. He''d been ignoring a significant advantage he had for a long time now. He was immortal, no injury to him was permanent. He didn''t need to hold back. He could improve faster if he fought with stronger enemies, knowing he couldn''t die no matter how much they injured him.


    He could also feel free to experiment with impunity. He smiled, and iron sung as he started his battle against a hundred men.


    He cut an arrow in half, then tried to deflect a fire ball, but was pushed back. He over balanced, and even though he saw it, he couldn''t quite react in time to the swordman''s lunging thrust. He died only a few micro seconds after he decided to fight like his life didn''t matter.


    A few seconds later, his eyes shot open again, and the swordsman backed up in bewilderment. That single swordsman killed the nameless soldier ten times before he was able to overcome him. The soldier cracked his neck, looked around at the open mouthed spectators. He grinned and leaped back into the fray.


    ****


    He was there, the day the war ended. The nameless soldier had survived the gruelling, soul crushing slog that was the war he knew nothing about. As the time went, he seemed to become more and more used to the situation.If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.


    Before, every single one of his enemies could intimidate him with no more than a look. It was like they were always passively giving off some kind of blood drenched aura. He had one too, now he''d killed thousands of people.


    His sword play, while no where near what that child genius he''d seen, was no joke now. He could exchange blows with the greatest of them all. Sure, he was focusing on the basics, not trying anything more than simple swings, the simplest foot work, the simplest stances, lunges, thrusts, parries, counters, but he was still a warrior to be proud of.


    It was weird though. He hadn''t seen his prospective master since that first time they''d met. And the army had been cut down to only about twenty thousand men and women.


    He had expected to see him in the advance squad he''d been a part of, but he hadn''t. And he''d found out why a few hours ago. They hadn''t been the best as he''d been led to believe. They had been the sacrifices their commanders chose to pay to conquer the final stronghold on their route.


    The nameless soldier had found himself grinning wider and wider as he ran through the barrage of spells and arrows and traps to the gate, not even bothering with a shield or a mana barrier or any sort of defense. He wanted to cut them all down with his sword. It had been glorious, although he''d missed more than he''d cut down, and he''d become a charred and frozen pincushion by the time he''d reached the gates, and he''d lost another squad, or troop, or whatever. He hadn''t bothered getting close to them, even that short blonde with the really inviting hips.


    Too bad some of the women kept saying he was too young for them, and some was all of them. He couldn''t remember the last time he''d rolled around with an older woman, it must have been in his imagination. He would have done it that day, and he was sure he could have, but he waited for that swordsman. He''d been promised training, and he was hoping he''d get it..


    It wasn''t until three days later that he came. In those three days, the nameless soldier had finally gotten time to try out that whole meditation thing older soldiers always told him about, to keep his mind calm and his aura serene. It wasn''t for him, he''d decided.


    The boy didn''t look a day older than the first time they''d met. He hadn''t even changed clothes. The soldier could swear that some of the blood stains were in the exact same spot as the last time.


    They studied each other without saying anything for a few moments. The soldier was sure his inspection was a lot more cursory than his prospective trainer''s.


    ¡°Well, this is a surprise,¡± the boy said with a smirk. ¡°What should I call you then?¡±


    ¡°I-I..¡± the soldier hesitated. ¡°I cannot remember my name.¡±


    ¡°But you remember enough to wait for me to pick you up,¡± the young boy scratched his cheek, then shrugged. ¡°Well, not that it matters. My name is Noid, and now that you''ve fulfilled my condition, I have no qualms about taking you with me. What say you, want to travel with me and join my mercenary company?¡±


    Noid was apparently once a noble, but a freak accident had left him scarred in the face. That was enough for his father to relegate him to staying in a side house on their large estate. Apparently, that was enough for his father''s main wife, who wasn''t his mother, to turn him into an experimental prop for her magic.


    When he was nine, Noid Ellan suffered permanent soul damage. Even though he had considerable mana reservoirs, he was unable to use magic, the last straw to his father. He didn''t stay down for long though, after finding his new family.


    According to him, he was currently a fairly famous adventurer, and he''d only been forced to come to the war so that the chairman of the mercenary company he worked for didn''t have to leave the company for years.


    Sometimes the soldier wondered how long the boy had been in the war, even though he still looked no older than fourteen.


    And their journey was a hard time for the soldier for reasons other than his empathy getting the better of him. The boy practiced harder than him, and seemed to have more stamina than him to boot. He found himself wishing he could put a number on the amount of stamina he had, but he couldn''t.


    When they sparred, he never had the slightest chance of winning.


    ¡°At least you have experience, and you can withstand battle intent well enough. You are a collection of flaws. What''s with you charging like a graceless bull? You are a swordsman. Do you think you are immortal?¡±


    The boy tilted his head to look at him quizzically.


    ¡°Then maybe I''ll show you that death is not the only reason you should fear a debilitating injury.¡±


    The day he''d learnt his strategy to improve super fast wouldn''t serve him forever, he''d been tortured for hours. The smallest cuts, cuts that burned, cuts that stung, cuts he could swear were coated in magic, even though Noid could not use magic. He didn''t bleed out, despite feeling enough pain he''d thought his hands had been cut clean off.


    And without dying, he couldn''t heal the wounds instantly. He''d had trouble doing anything except standing with his hands and legs far apart to avoid them rubbing against his body and themselves for almost two days. He''d drawn the line on direct suicide. First, he didn''t want Noid to know about his immortality if possible, and he didn''t want to find out that taking his own life meant he''d given up on resurrecting.


    That might have been his worst habit, but he had a lot more bad habits. One time, Noid didn''t even say anything, just kept tripping him up when he moved, until the soldier realised there was something wrong with his foot work. It was too stiff. He''d needed to stiffen his muscles while performing drills in order to exhaust his leg muscles as well, but it was better to be loose during combat, all the easier to react to any surprises.


    He  polished his basic swordsmanship over months of travel. Noid never offered to teach him any elaborate techniques, and the soldier never asked to learn. He still had yet to master the basics after all.


    Like that, they arrived at their destination. They''d kept off the main roads, and that''s why the soldier believed they''d never entered the cities he''d seen in the distance in passing. Their destination ended up being a village occupied by mercenaries and their families. And they, one and all knew Noid. He was a celebrity.

 Chapter 7. A slice of normal, at least for a while.

    Rafe sat and watched a pink haired girl on the big screen. His father was probably somewhere backstage. He hadn''t seen them in months, and now he was finding out what they''d been up to. He slumped his shoulders.


    First his mother had gone, and now they too had left. She sounded good though. And maybe this would help his father get over his years old heart break. He was relieved on his father''s behalf, he truly was.


    He should have been happy for his sister too, but they''d never been close. He was alone, always alone, forever alone. He sat on the chair and watched his father''s latest star sing. She was a stranger to him, such a familiar stranger.


    ****


    He woke up with sweat pouring out of his eyes, like it normally did when he had those kinds of weird dreams. It was sweat and nothing else, he was sure. Just sweat.


    When he woke, he remembered nothing of those dreams. They quite helped him actually. Helped him to wake up earlier than most people and train even before his official training was set to start.


    Of course even as he performed his drills, he watched the young prince of the village perform what ought to have been his millionth drill of the day. Perhaps stronger people didn''t need to sleep as much as weaker ones.


    That seemed unfair to him, but it wasn''t entirely impossible. He''d never be able to catch up to Noid if the boy naturally needed less sleep. It got him to thinking about Noid¡¯s advice.


    ¡®There is no fight you are incapable of losing. There are matches were you are incapable of winning though,¡¯ he''d said.


    When the soldier had asked, the boy had shuddered.


    ¡®The reason is simple. You are a swordsman, a warrior. Never underestimate anyone. If you are the stronger party, then your opponent will either have an ace up their sleeve, or they could go for mutual destruction. Most fights though, you''ll be the under dog, at least in the beginning, though you can steal win if you trained right. If you remember a solid foundation is better than a hastily built house.


    ¡®There are existences out there though, that you cannot injure even if you tried. A swordsman is cautious, and under the right circumstances cowardly, at least the kind of swordsman I''m trying to create.¡¯


    The unnamed mercenary recruit shrugged at the long explanation, frowning in pretend consideration. In truth, the recruit had chosen his own philosophy, just believe in his own sword, and if his sword failed, then he''d be dead.


    Since arriving at the Wilde mercenary company, Noid hadn''t been training him personally, Jonathan had.


    Jonathan Wilde was the president of the mercenary company, and he''d once trained Noid in the art of swordplay as well. Even if he was a master, Jonathan was proficient in only one sword style.


    Noid knew the four major schools of swordplay, and he had knowledge of a few techniques from lots of lesser schools. He even had techniques he''d picked up from other weapon specialists like spear users, dagger wielders, hatchet men even.


    Still, at his graduation from basics to sword school selection, Jonathan had taught him all he knew about the lost saint style. He also knew the basics of the demon god''s promise, but he was hopeless in the dwarven rock crushing school.Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    As happened everyday, the two fought for little over thirty minutes.


    The revered sword saint style was fast, even if the thrusts were weak. If it made contact with flesh, it would penetrate pretty deep, no question about it. It was the style Noid used when he crouched low and used both hands in a series of diagonal slashes.


    Noid was only advanced tier though. It was different sparring with a master tier swordsman. Especially on the rare occasions Jonathan demonstrated his sword barrage. A thousand slashes, impacts, a very high end number for a master according to him, and he had such precise control over what they''d cut.


    All the months he''d spent traveling with Noid, and now here at the town, the soldier had spent just over a year training since the war ended. He wasn''t anywhere near the intermediate rank in the lost sword saint style though.


    And his battles with Jonathan always left him scrambling just to keep up with the man''s barrage. And then he''d run out of juice while the older man had barely broken a sweat.


    ¡°Hmm, is it me, or are you getting a lot faster?¡± Jonathan asked.


    The soldier snorted, exposing his teeth in a self deprecating smile, and rubbing the back of his head.


    ¡°It''s definitely just you.¡±


    ¡°No, no, listen kid, you''re definitely faster than before, and your coordination is good too. Your stamina and strength are increasing at a very slow rate, but your speed and reactions are definitely improving.¡±


    ¡°So, when do you think I''ll graduate from the beginner rank?¡±


    The man shrugged. ¡°All men are not created equal, kid. We can''t all be geniuses with stamina so ridiculous it''s illegal,¡± he said while sparing a glance for the still drilling Noid.


    Jonathan walked off to take care of other responsibilities as the president of the company. The short spar was his morning cool off segment, according to him.


    Thirty minutes a day, even if completely exhausting, were no where near enough for the soldier to achieve his goals. He did have nothing to do except train, train, and train all day, so he went off to join a couple of the other recruits in their own drills.


    In his day, Noid had sparred off with the most experienced mercenaries, and he''d still been a child then. With the war having lasted an indeterminate amount of time, and the year he''d spent traveling and staying in this village, the soldier wasn''t sure he still counted as a teenager.


    Still, he did not have the pride to challenge the trainers head on. Instead, he took part in the standard mock battles the trainers had organised because of the existence of Noid, that perpetually young swordsman.


    The soldier clicked his tongue as he dueled a spear user in a magically modified field. Every extra minute they spent, the air grew heavier, such that even moving their legs got harder with time.


    It was both an effective way to train up stamina and strength, but also a time keeping measure. The soldier hated fighting spear users, especially this particular girl. She had long red hair, and long arms that the trainers said made her a perfect spear user.


    She was good at it though. He liked watching her long athletic legs dance back after she executed a glancing strike. He tried to keep up, but he had to exert himself to try and bridge the long distance gap. She grinned as she deflected his swings with the simplest of movements. She was definitely the best.


    He grinned back, enjoying the exertion. The air got heavier, and before he knew it, there was no more dancing, no more grace. Just strong swings and thrusts, simple backwards movements and heavy breath. He got impatient. This was his chance. He''d thought this before, and he''d been wrong then, but he could feel it this time.


    He darted in, already crouching low to use the heavier air to his advantage. The girl brought the butt of her spear close to her body, and deflected his first swing as she usually did. She was proficient at the close range too, and that was why she was considered an advanced spear user.


    Her deflection must have not gone to plan this time, because she showed a hint of surprise after impact. The soldier felt a hint of pride, but didn''t let that distract him for the time being. He swung and swung. And then he noticed she hadn''t moved her spear for the last few swings, just leaving it to guard most of her flank.


    He smiled, and fast as he could, changed the angle of his crouch, of his swing. He saw the moment her eyes widened in realisation, and he just smiled bigger.


    His sword descended to end this farce once and for all, only to be stopped by her well armoured forearm. It did cut through armour and flesh to be honest, but he was unable to penetrate bone yet. The girl gritted her teeth to keep from crying out, but then she grinned in satisfaction.


    The soldier realised his sword was stuck in the bone, and fighting without it was just¡­ The butt of the spear struck him straight on his forehead, disorienting him for an instant. Enough time for him to be eviscerated with impunity.


    They were sweating and panting and leaning against each other by the time the magical dueling field had collapsed.


    ¡°I¡­lost again¡­¡± the soldier gasped out.


    ¡°Yeah¡­but you almost¡­had me. You are definitely fast¡­I can hardly follow your swings anymore. I am supposed to win, I am an advanced level warrior, you know.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, well, that''s enough if that. Maybe we can talk about something more interesting,¡± he asked hopefully.


    ¡°Like why your eyes have been glued to my chest this whole time?¡±


    He turned all his attention to her chest, then up into Celene¡¯s red face. He shrugged without shame or remorse.


    ¡°I think you know why my eyes have been on your chest this whole time.¡±


    The girl blushed harder, he hoped.


    ¡°You¡­¡± she huffed. ¡°Maybe if there was any chance any hell you could beat me.¡±


    The soldier lost all his other fights that day, but he performed like that on most days. He


    called his fellow trainees recruits, but they were experienced adventurers one and all. They were just taking lessons from their betters in between assignments.

 Chapter 8. The truth about being special.

    It was a small village, and everyone knew Guy, as he''d been recently named, was courting Celene. Too bad Celene would never give him the time of day, or night. The other girls and women pretended they didn''t notice if he made a pass at them, supposedly to not betray Celene.


    ¡°And how long have you been courting the girl?¡± Jonathan asked during their morning spar.


    ¡°Since I came to this village, so about eight months now. Though she hasn''t been here all the time, she goes off for days or even weeks at a time on missions.¡±


    ¡°I could almost asure you the girl doesn''t hate you or anything like that. It''s just romances in such a tight knit community as our little village, they tend to be quite public affairs.¡±


    ¡°Oh. I see.¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± Jonathan nodded. ¡°Anyway, I think I might have just the perfect solution for you, kid.¡±


    ¡°Yeah?¡±


    ¡°Me and the family, in fact most of the village will be heading over to the capital. We''ve been hired by a couple of the neighbouring villages as escorts for them as they take their produce to market. I figured it''d be a great opportunity to get you registered with the adventurer¡¯s guild.¡±


    ¡°Huh? You sure I should come?¡±


    ¡°Yes. Although I''m a master, sparring with only me can only get you so far. Don''t think I didn''t notice you broke through the intermediate rank in your second style already. That''s as far as I got in the demon god style. There is talent in you kid. You should be able to find more opportunities to train once we are in the capital.¡±


    ¡°Really? You think I''m talented?¡±


    ¡°I suppose you wouldn''t have a frame of reference, seeing as how you have no memories and all. Reaching the intermediate tier in any weapon or style, let alone two styles like you¡­ I just can''t compare it to anything worth while now. Look at this, Noid isn''t yet a master of anything yet, but he is among the ten strongest swordsmen in the kingdom, if not the world. The kingdom has about sixty or so sword masters, but only nine people above that tier.¡±


    ¡°You are ranking Noid above the masters?¡±


    ¡°He can exchange blows with any master. Well he can do that, and win at least seven out of ten times. And that was well before the war.  After his involvement in that war, I feel like his inability to step into the master realm shouldn''t be ridiculed, it should be feared.¡±


    ¡°Why is that?¡±


    ¡°Because there can only be one reason for that: he is trying to consolidate his power, strengthen his foundation, perhaps even invent a whole new style of his own before he ascends. Only, how much more solid can his foundations be?¡±


    Even Guy was lost when he thought about it. Noid was truly a scary person, who somehow still looked like a kid.


    ¡°Anyway, what were we talking about? Oh yeah, having such a high aptitude for so many sword styles is not a small thing. And we haven''t even tasted the extent of your talent. You are not the fastest learner, but you are not the slowest by a long margin. People take years just advancing from the beginning to the intermediate rank while only pursuing one style no less.¡±


    Guy started to rub his chin, lost somewhere in his mind, thinking about all the losses he''d accrued over the last more than half year of sparring with the other trainees. He''d started to win some in recent weeks, but he was still no where near strong enough to beat Celene, even if he made her work for her wins.


    ¡°And besides,¡± Jonathan was saying to him, ¡°why are you acting like you need to be convinced to come to the city with us? It''s a bigger pond, therefore it''s the perfect place to deal with your lady problem.¡±


    Guy¡¯s eyes widened, and Jonathan thumped him on the back and laughed like a maniac.This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.


    ¡°Is that right?¡± an ice cold voice said from behind Jonathan. ¡°Is that why you want to go to the city then?¡±


    Jonathan''s face froze, his lip twitched, perhaps in some kind of prayer. She was there though, his wife was.


    Maria Wilde had been a maid at count Ellan¡¯s house when Jonathan had been a contracted guard. Now the two had a home and had built a village and a successful business around it, and they had fostered one of their old employer''s sons. Noid Ellan stood behind the fuming woman, holding their two now scared looking daughters.


    Guy put his arms up in a non threatening gesture and walked as slowly as possible away from the lady''s line of sight. He walked past her, but the cute little girls were just too much for him to ignore. He tried to play as quietly and as fast as possible before he was out of there like the wind.


    Guy walked next to Celene on most of the journey. He noticed the expectant looks the others, and even Celene kept sending him, but it was his first mission, he was fully focused on performing better than expected.


    It wasn''t because he was sure the girl would reject him, or because he was kind of nervous because Noid was right there. He''d seen more than one of the girls he''d eyed up staring at him admiringly. It was for sure even Celene had the hots for him. She probably wouldn''t mind if he pursued her and every other girl in their village. Heck, even Guy¡­


    He did not complete that thought, instead scanning his side of the road for the fiftieth time. His rest was called for not a few minutes later, and for some reason, Celene sat next to him. There was something wrong with the way she was acting this whole journey.


    He decided to confront her about it, so he lifted his head and turned to her. Their eyes met. She''d already been facing him, waiting for him to look at her.


    ¡°You-¡± they both spoke at the same time.


    His eyes opened wide, and her cheeks burned. None of them looked away though. Guy felt there was some kind of trial here and whoever looked away first would be the loser.


    He inclined his head, intending to let her speak first. She nodded in acknowledgement, sighed, and started.


    ¡°Look, about your advances these past few months. Were¡­we ¡­were you serious? I couldn''t tell if you were joking or not, but then everyone was taking you seriously, and the girls were ribbing me about it, and you just kept on coming. I¡­¡±


    He sighed when she didn''t continue. ¡°I''m sorry it was hard on you, Celene.¡± He looked away first, his stomach dropped for some reason he didn''t know. ¡°I was serious.¡±


    ¡°Y-you, you were? You are not anymore?¡± she said with a small sigh.


    ¡°I''d like to keep being serious, but really, I think I should have gotten the message a lot earlier.¡± He smiled self deprecatingly.


    ¡°You¡­¡± her voice broke, and Guy turned to look at her in surprise. There were tears flowing down her face. ¡°You just took me by surprise, okay?! I have never had a guy running after me. I was always too violent, or much stronger it bruised their egos, but you didn''t give up even after I''d defeated you a thousand times. I just thought¡­¡±


    But once again, she couldn''t find the right words to continue. She stormed off crying, and for a few moments he froze. But then he stood up, stretched his hand out and started to shout for her to wait for him.


    His trailing hand was grabbed by a calloused hand. He turned around in surprise, and looked into intense brown eyes set on a body shorter than his own.


    ¡°We need to have a bit of a word,¡± Noid said.


    Guy hesitated. He wanted to go after Celene, but he couldn''t remember the last time he''d spoken to Noid. It was strange, when he thought about it. Noid was supposed to be training him, but he''d passed him on to Jonathan. When Jonathan had nothing more to teach him, shouldn''t Noid have stepped up to help him learn new styles or whatever. Why had no one ever questioned anything? Why hadn''t he?


    Yeah, fuck this shit. This whole shit could wait. Celene was in tears, that strong woman.


    ¡°It''s about the girl,¡± Noid said, probably having noticed Guy was going to leave him either way.


    Guy froze in indecision, but finally he followed the child wonder.


    ¡°So, what''s it you have to tell me?¡± he asked testily.


    Noid winced. ¡°I''m sorry you think my teaching style is a bit lacking. I don''t really think I''m planning to change it though. It''s working for you.¡±


    ¡°Then what is it you want?!¡±


    ¡°A person like you, a person obviously destined for greatness, your relationships need to be a little better chosen.¡±


    ¡°Destined for greatness?¡±


    ¡°Your whole coming back from the dead trick. You think I don''t know something so important about my own apprentice?¡±


    ¡°What are you-?¡±


    ¡°Such an ability is not a simple thing, boy,¡± the boy said. ¡°It''s an impossible power, one that probably has a big cost. Why would the world give you such a boon? It''s like this whole world is a trial, built just to turn you into a hero. And you think you have the time to pursue such meaningless relationships?¡±


    ¡°The world¡­? A trial?¡±


    ¡°Look, I''m not trying to make a clone of myself. Obviously you''re free to do whatever you want, but at least consider my words.¡±


    The boy left, and Guy was lost. He stared toward Celene''s path at last, knowing that possibility was now in the past.


    A week later, the whole company knew something had happened. Celene and Guy were kept as far away from each other as possible. All the females looked at him angrily, but he wasn''t going to chase any of them anymore. He didn''t hear about or from Celene at all.


    When they reached Hossford city, Guy went with Jonathan for his adventurer''s guild registration.


    Somehow, Guy knew he didn''t get the standard treatment. Jonathan hadn''t bragged about it, but being one of only sixty seven sword masters was probably a big deal. The receptionist had started asking Guy to fill some form when she spotted Jonathan. Her whole demeanor shifted.


    ¡°Mr Wilde, the guild master can see you and your apprentice anytime.¡±


    Jonathan smiled at her, ¡°thanks, miss. I''ll take you up on that.¡±


    There was some kind of trial to join the guild, and from the battered swordsman holding a broken blade and a single hilt, it had a combat potion.


    Guy frowned at the glaring swordsman, then he shrugged and followed behind Jonathan. It''s not like he was ever going to meet that minor character ever again.


    Of course he met said minor character again just a few hours later, and the youth remembered him well.

 Chapter 9. A beckoning hunt.

    Guy hadn''t had the easiest week thus far, and this whole situation wasn''t helping. At least meeting the guild master, a master level spear wielder, was a decent few hours.


    The guild master was big and scarred, and he had a boisterous way about him. He was good people. It seemed him and Jonathan were old friends, although Jonathan was pretty young.


    ¡°I never got to congratulate you over becoming the youngest weapon master in decades!¡± the guild master spoke as he grabbed a glass from a cabinet behind his desk.


    Jonathan laughed awkwardly. ¡°Well, pretty sure my record will soon be put to shame.¡±


    The guild master''s smile froze for a moment, but he shrugged like he was throwing something annoying off his shoulder.


    ¡°There are always anomalies. I mean sure, you were an anomaly yourself to some people, but that damn kid, it''s like he was born with a sword in his hand.¡±


    He poured two drinks, the two men shared a drink in silence and stared off into the distance in some thought. Finally, the guild master cleared his throat and looked at Guy.


    ¡°So, who''s this? It''s rare for you to accompany a new mercenary yourself.¡±


    ¡°This?¡± Jonathan touched Guy''s shoulder. ¡°This is Guy Wilde. Taught him some of the things he knows. He is good. Perhaps not as good as the anomaly, but he is good. What is it kid?¡±


    ¡°You gave me your name?¡±


    ¡°Huh? Yeah. You don''t really have a name, and the kids and the missus have really taken to yah. It''s not so a big deal.¡±


    Guy looked away before Jonathan could see the tears shining in his eyes.


    ¡°But what happens when I remember my old name?¡±


    ¡°Just keep it, either as a middle or last name. You''re part of the family now, kid. We won''t be letting you go.¡±


    ¡°...family¡­¡± he whispered.


    ¡°I do respect your opinions, Jon,¡± the guild master brought them back to the point, ¡° but there are still a few protocols we''ll need to follow to increase his adventure status from wood to copper rank. And then to iron, the least rank you accept into your mercenary company.¡±


    ¡°Don''t worry, Guy won''t be part of the mercenary company for now.¡±


    ¡°What? Why?!¡±


    Guy was bewildered. Hadn''t Jonathan just said he was family.


    ¡°Look kid, you don''t have the best reputation right now, what with yours and Celene''s relationship.¡±


    ¡°There was no relationship,¡± Guy complained.


    ¡°Yes, there was none. But the company is pretty tight knit, and you are new. If there is a fight, they will side with Celene. I''m actually doing this so that at the end of the day, you''ll want to join the company again. If you come back now and the others irritate you too much, you might give up on the company.


    ¡°Think about this like you taking a break from the company to learn more about yourself. Besides, I did see you get into some kind of fight with Noid. So I''m guessing he can''t train you in any of the other major styles like I wanted him to.¡±


    ¡°No, he will not,¡± Guy said with a sigh.


    ¡°So I figured you''d need your adventurer''s reward money in order to purchase lessons from various swordsmen here in the capital.¡±


    Guy was reluctant, but Jonathan had thought of everything. To have his status as an adventurer settled, he and a couple of others were slated to go onto a monster extermination mission a few days away from the capital.


    Guy had to see the twins before he left, because he was unsure when he''d get to see them again, and Maria gave him a packed lunch. He took both Jonathan''s and Noid¡¯s differently expressed advice and walked away from the mercenary company without talking to anyone.


    And now he''d met this guy, who obviously hated him for some reason he couldn''t fathom. Well, maybe he could fathom it a bit, but why did this guy even remember his face. If Guy hated someone, he''d just ignore their existence. He only remembered the swordsman because he found his dual swords interesting, although they''d been broken at the time.


    ¡°On this test, you''ll be required to kill a specific number of goblins per head. You can do it as a group, or as individuals. Your choice,¡± the nice woman in adventurer''s leathers finished.


    Guy looked at the five others he''d be taking the test with. A female with pointy ears and a very slim body, a big man who carried no weapon and was acquainted with the annoying swordsman, and a fiery haired, fiery eyed girl who was not much older than him. Her hair matching her eyes reminded him of something, but he wasn''t quite sure.


    ¡°Don''t stare too much,¡± the fiery haired woman snapped. ¡°Is it your first time seeing people with nonhuman blood?¡±


    Guy wasn''t sure his answer was what she expected when she asked that question.


    ¡°It is the first that I can remember,¡± he answered. ¡°I haven''t travelled a lot.¡±


    The two women looked at each other. And then his brain processed the question he''d been asked to completion. His eyes widened. The fiery haired woman was not entirely human? But she looked exactly like one. He needed to find out more about the world outside his own little bubble, he decided.


    ¡°Me and Grunter over here can fill out our quarter on our own,¡± the testy swordsman said, his eyes focused on Guy, the challenge in them clear.


    The giant grunted in affirmation.


    The two women looked at Guy with hesitation. He didn''t blame them.


    He shrugged. ¡°I suppose I can go it alone.¡±


    ¡°Huh, but the elf girl is a healer, how''s she going to fight goblins on her own?¡± the swordsman complained.


    ¡°Why don''t you take her?¡± Guy asked, very reasonably, he thought.


    ¡°Take her? What? We are in a competition, and you having more comrades than me is a concession on my part, kind of like a headstart, an advantage.¡±


    Guy sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose. ¡°I didn''t agree to a competition. Besides, even the other girl probably wants to join your party too.¡±


    ¡°That''s right,¡± the girl said, ¡°don''t make decisions for all of us. No one made you our leader or anything.¡±


    Guy had never worried about it before, but was there a possibility he was ugly. Sure he did think he was a bit boring, but was there something about him that physically reviled women. He frowned, considering whether he should ask the two women, but then he remembered their testiness after his creepy staring. That must be why they didn''t want to party with him, he decided.Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site.


    ¡°Huh, this does not mean I give up!¡± the swordsman advanced toward Guy with a finger raised. ¡°I will bring twice, no thrice the required number of goblins, and I will not allow to be healed during combat.¡±


    ¡°How will my worth be measured then?¡± the healer questioned.


    ¡°You will heal me after he admits defeat. Besides, I''m not the only warrior. You will provide magic support, right Jasmine?¡±


    ¡°Yeah¡­¡± the fiery haired woman continued to speak, but Guy tuned her out as he started to follow the guild supervisor.


    The woman must have figured the discussion was done, and now they had better move out. Guy had only travelled on two occasions he could remember, and one was a months long excursion with a swordsman who never said much. Noid only spoke when he wanted to. They had never had tents, and only ate what they killed.


    This adventurer''s excursion was a walk in the park in comparison. They only had to walk two days, and he could go two days without speaking to anyone. He didn''t think it was something to be proud of, but those were his circumstances.


    When the guild supervisor ordered them to camp, Guy watched the others set up their tents in silence. He was thinking maybe Noid didn''t know everything. When he''d travelled with the Wilde company to the capital, everyone had tents. He''d thought they were soft, because Noid had been there too, and he never slept in a tent.


    He frowned and thought about it for a time, but then he decided sleeping in an open sky wasn''t too bad. Even the cold had barely affected him during the winter. It''s like he''d been passively resisting the effects of the weather and the environment ever since. He only slept indoors rarely even when he was at the Wilde village.


    With a shrug, he stepped out of the clearing they''d decided to camp in and entered the forest. He needed some privacy, to ease a few natural urges before he exhausted his muscles in another round of drills.


    They were all asleep when he returned, even the supervisor had a tent. He picked a tree from which he could view the whole camp, and went to sleep.


    Guy woke up three times that night, from animals trying to sneak into the camp. He frowned when he realised none of his fellow test takers had thought of leaving a watch or anything. Was it part of the test as well? The supervisor hadn''t said anything since they''d chosen their teams the day before.


    ¡°Where is the other one?¡± he had the supervisor ask the next morning.


    He was a light sleeper, he''d found, since he''d started training with Noid.


    ¡°Right here!¡± he shouted from his tree quite a ways from the clearing. ¡°I didn''t bring a tent so I slept over here.¡±


    The woman tilted her head. She had acquired a pair of reading glasses since he''d seen her last. It brought out her narrowed eyes, in his opinion. In fact, she''d changed a lot after one night''s sleep.


    She''d ditched the adventurer''s wear and was now dressed in official looking robes, like most of those receptionists at the guild. It was weird that he found the official clothes more enticing than the adventurer''s clothes that had so hugged her body, leaving nothing to the imagination. Maybe he liked to imagine she was wearing nothing under that robe.


    ¡°You¡­slept?¡± she asked, adjusting her reading glasses.


    Guy jumped off the tree, performing a series of acrobatic movements to land safely and very gracefully.


    ¡°Of course I did,¡± he answered her. ¡°And may I just say, I love what you did with your hair.¡±


    She looked at him expressionlessly. In the background, Guy could see the realisation shaping on the others¡¯s faces. He hadn''t done it out of spite or anything, but the looks on their faces were priceless. No, for some reason, he thought this was what Noid would have done in a situation like this. It was a teachable moment.


    ¡°You¡­love what I did with my hair?¡± the woman asked.


    As a man used to the anger by now, he let most of the scathing remarks the woman had for him flow off his back. Sure, her hair was still ungroomed after a whole night''s sleep, and his compliment seemed like an insult, therefore disrespect to a superior, and would go on his permanent record.


    There were some positives though. He''d gotten her to speak a lot more that morning than she''d done the all the hours they''d travelled the day before.


    Everyone openly glared at Guy the next few hours of travel, even their formerly neutral supervisor. When they took a lunch break, his cohorts approached him for a talk.


    ¡°You do realise we''re doing poorly, don''t you,¡± the half elf spoke first.


    ¡°I can''t decide whether to praise your daring or applaud your stupidity. You outed our blunder, then proceeded to disrespectfully court our supervisor,¡± Jasmine said with a groan.


    The giant man grunted, looking deeply at Guy but having no words for him.


    ¡°Are you trying to sabotage our competition?¡± the swordsman asked.


    Guy didn''t want to. He really didn''t want to, but that day he attempted to roll his eyes for the first time he could remember. He couldn''t quite pull it off. Curses! He would have to settle for mentally rolling his eyes.


    He put a hand to his chest and gasped. ¡°I would never!¡±


    The swordsman nodded. ¡°Of course you wouldn''t.¡±


    ¡°No,¡± Jasmine, the orange haired mage, told him with a sigh, ¡°he was totally being sarcastic about the competition. I think he couldn''t care less.¡±


    The swordsman looked between Jasmine and Guy in confusion. ¡°But¡­but why?¡± his eyes wide, he turned a hurt look to Guy.


    ¡°Yes, Mr¡­ I didn''t really catch your name, but why?¡±


    ¡°Oh, my name is Rafe King¡­¡± the world froze for an instant.


    And like a picture being ripped in two, tears appeared on the tapestry of the world. A pin prick of pain pierced right into his brain, and he almost lost consciousness there and then. Then something in his brain fought back, indomitable, unbreakable. The pain receded, and with it the vague memories of a world without magic. He blinked, and all he felt was the barest shadow of the pain.


    He blinked away tears and looked away from the others.


    ¡°My name is Guy Wilde. And as to why I ¡®sabotaged¡¯ your mission. I just thought it would be a good learning experience. No more than three times was I woken by predators stocking the camp. If I wasn''t as light a sleeper as I seem to have become, a few of us would be dead.¡±


    Jasmine snorted. ¡°You totally just want to use our tents, since you didn''t bring one of your own.¡±


    But he was already leaving them to their conspiracies. He needed to get to grips with what had happened in those few moments he''d witnessed the world crack like a mirror. No sign of it remained, not even a hint, but he sure as hell saw the world almost break, and a crack had run vertically through the swordsman too. The swordsman whose name he yet didn''t know.


    They reached their target location a few hours past noon that day. It was a good pace, according to the not quite neutral supervisor.


    The swordsman cracked his neck.


    ¡°Too bad we can''t just have a duel, and call it a day, right punk?¡± the swordsman addressed Guy.


    Guy frowned. ¡°Right. Too bad. But rules are rules, I''m afraid.¡±


    ¡°There are no rules about how or what you do after the quest is finished. I''d be happy to mediate the match for you, after the allotted monsters are handed over to me,¡± the supervisor woman said in the most neutral voice she could manage.


    She couldn''t quite keep her spite for Guy from leaking out. Guy sighed inwards. He had no idea how an attempt at a compliment got him in a pickle like this. A lie. He knew how and why he''d ended up in this pickle. He noticed everyone was looking at him for his reaction to the duel. He shrugged, caring little either way. He definitely found the dual blade wielder interesting, but he knew the demon god''s promise had a dual wielding skill, although it was hardly popular.


    ¡°Ohhhh, yeah!¡± the man shouted to the heavens in glee. He extended a hand to Guy, a goofy smile pasted on his face. ¡°Alright, let''s have a good one, Guy.¡±


    Guy blinked multiple times, another frown creasing his brow. He studied the young man in front of him, not long past twenty, average height, long brown hair tied in a warrior''s knot, ordinary looking, if not babyish face. The goofy grin fitted him, his boisterous personality, not so much. Then again, Guy figured he didn''t like loud people.


    ¡°Let''s have a good one¡­uh?¡±


    The boy looked at him in confusion, until the fiery haired Jasmine leaned in and told him something.


    ¡°Right! Orlandir. My name is Orlandir.¡±


    ¡°Orlandir¡­¡± Guy tasted the name on his tongue.


    He shook the man''s hand, and then turned to the supervisor.


    ¡°The quarter for this task is decided at the supervisor''s discretion, depending on the testee¡¯s strengths and weaknesses as seen in other potions of testing.¡±


    Guy divided his mind into two, already knowing roughly what to expect from this information dump. He expended his improved senses, trying to find somewhere far enough away that he wouldn''t clash with the others, and he could still find enough beasts to hunt too. The beasts underwhelmed him, but he supposed a standard test would.


    ¡°The four of you will have to bring me twenty five right goblin ears par head,¡± she addressed the partied up group. ¡°You, on the other hand, will have to bring me thirty five right goblin ears.¡±


    Guy bowed like a knight to a lady, formal and painfully stiff. He was trying to hide his raised brows and wide eyes.


    ¡°That''s no fair,¡± Orlandir pouted. ¡°Why does he get to kill  more goblins?¡±


    The woman adjusted her, at least according to Guy, already well adjusted spectacles.


    ¡°I took into account that most of the heavy fighting will probably fall on you and Mr Grunter. And lady Jasmine''s fire affinity is ill suited for a collection quest¡­¡±


    ¡°She obviously likes me more,¡± Guy grinned at the frowning swordsman.


    ¡°That''s¡­that''s unprofessional!¡± Orlandir half glared, half pleaded with his eyes at the woman.


    The woman glared scornfully at Guy.


    ¡°Your behavior will go on your permanent records.¡±


    ¡°I''d like to read those records. Will there be a description of my good looks in there?¡±


    The woman tilted her head in consideration. ¡°Do you shift your demeanor so suddenly as a way to keep people off balance?You were being so professional the whole way here, even when you discussed the whole duel and everything.¡±


    Guy shrugged. ¡°I don''t know how my brain works, but to be honest, who does? I said what I said when I said it because it''s truly how I felt. It''s a sign of my genuineness.¡±


    ¡°Umhmm. Get to it then,¡± she said with a sigh.


    Guy turned away without a word, lowering his body in a crouch and raising his hand to the back placed hilt of his cheap long sword. Before any of the others had said anything to make plans or whatever, he was running, his head lowered and his eyes peeled.


    ****


    ¡°What the hell? He didn''t wait for us to divvy up the hunting grounds or anything,¡± Orlandir complained.


    ¡°He chose the side of the forest we wouldn''t have chosen anyway. And did you see his speed?¡± Jasmine asked with a worried look in Orlandir¡¯s direction.


    Orlandir just grinned. ¡°At least he''s not a well connected waste of space. Our duel might actually be interesting.¡±


    ¡°I am well connected too, and so is Rhea. Are we wastes of space too?¡±


    ¡°Look, I saw the two of you, even with all your connections, take all the same standard tests everyone does. That asshole, no matter how good he is didn''t even take the six months aura augmentation course. I have to show him just how weak he is.¡±


    ¡°Only I don''t think he is actually weak,¡± this time Rhea spoke.


    ¡°Indeed,¡± their supposedly neutral supervisor chimed in. ¡°I got a hint of his aura when he ran. I don''t know if pushing for the duel was a good idea anymore¡­¡±


    ¡°Don''t worry, supervisor. Even if I can''t beat him, I''m confident in gaining his respect. After all, he has had lots of resources thrown into him. All I am I built with my own hands.¡±


    ****


    It took Guy only a few minutes to reach deep enough into this monster den. He could have found a hundred easy. That''s not why he''d come this deep though. This was a known monster nest, knowingly cultivated by the adventurer''s guild as a place to allow new adventurer''s to blood themselves.


    There was something that had surprised Guy during his earlier cursory scan of the area. He''d seen multiple hobgoblins, even goblin mages in the deepest parts of the nest. Just sighting more than three hobgoblins should have been enough to have a high level team of adventurers swoop down and rain death on the nest. Whoever was in charge of this whole thing was being lax with their duties, an inexcusable act.

 Chapter 10. A quaint little settlement.

    Guy hid amongst the highest trees and watched the weirdest village he''d ever seen. They almost looked peaceful. Civilized, even. They had houses.


    He had killed five hobgoblins already, but he had barely made a dent in their numbers, they hadn''t even noticed. As for goblin mages, that was a whole other ball game he was unwilling to tackle just yet. Well, he was unwilling to take them on in their natural habitat, in this village where they were surrounded by all the hobgoblins and goblin warriors. If he could lead all the warriors out of the village however, and only have a bunch of mages who sucked at close range, it would be a slaughter.


    He needed thirty goblin ears, and he had five hobgoblin ears already. He was pretty sure they would be enough, but getting all the goblin mages would get him a good reward. Perhaps it could even get him into the supervisor''s good graces. Besides, hobgoblins were stronger than normal goblins, but he''d found he could still kill them easily enough, at least as long as they weren''t with the mages. His plan was a good one, he assured himself. Not a reckless attempt to measure how much stronger he''d become.


    The alarm went off in the village, and he could hear noises, like monkeys chattering, but somehow more ominous. The goblins and hobgoblins moved out of the village in small bands over the next thirty minutes.


    As he''d guessed, most of the goblin mages stayed behind. He was sure only about five parties had gone with a mage, and there were less than thirty warriors left with one hobgoblin. Guy pushed his senses to where the rest of his expedition were still fighting. It was far enough away from the now scouting goblin parties.


    Still, if he didn''t wrap up this business fast enough, they''d be in some trouble. Guy attacked.


    He did not attack from the front where the thirty or so goblin warriors were still discussing something in loud animal noises and grunts. He went straight to what appeared to be a meeting of some of the goblin mages. He attacked the strongest one first, which meant he attacked the one who was dressed most similarly to a human, and who had seemed to have the most monkey noises to make.


    The goblin''s head flew before any of the others could realise what was happening. His second target died the next instant, but his sword bounded off air on his third attempt. An invisible magic barrier? He cursed, but he was already running, avoiding elemental attacks as he got behind the goblin and killed it before it could adjust it''s shield. He launched himself into the air, narrowly avoiding a bolt of lightning. He clicked his tongue and dived away from this group. It had gotten dangerous.


    The next group were still in some confusion when he landed among them. They were standing very close to each other, and all he had to do was thrust nine times in one second to kill half the group. He could feel his muscles pulling during the whole stunt. He hadn''t used any techniques thus far, just speed and raw athleticism. He killed seven more with lightning fast strikes before the last two rallied and began to shout. One used a magic shield, which when hit with Guy''s strongest attack launched the goblin into a leaf built house, helping it escape. The other goblin had very impressive control over earth magic and used the earth to pull itself away at top speed while screaming at the top of it''s lungs.


    Guy cursed quietly but he was already running towards his next group of victims. He needed to be faster. His body was letting him down, slower to react to his instructions than he would like. He killed three groups of goblin mages before he found himself back to the group he''d attacked first. He thrust forward five times, killed five times. His sixth attempt was blocked.


    It was a bigger goblin, almost the size of a human being, dressed in a shirt of hide and a loin cloth, and holding a crude shield. Crude but effective. He had barely caused the shield to shake with his last thrust.


    Which was very reasonable. Whilst they were fatal, his thrusts were speed focused and not that strong. They could overpower a weaker opponent, but could only try and penetrate the guard of strong, not necessarily stronger, opponents.


    He bounced back from his failed attack, his body jolted, and his rhythm broke. He had been in a trance of swings and thrusts and darts and lunges. It was almost like he''d been taking the time to hone his basics, to warm up before the main fight. It seemed the hobgoblin who''d been left in the village wasn''t a run of the mill mob. His rusty coloured and tangy scented club proved that. Guy took his tip down stance, took a breath, and once again his vision changed.


    It was only him and the hobgoblin, who charged first. Guy tensed his muscles and swung, the sword clanged on the metal shield and sparks flew. Guy was launched into the air, he landed a few inches back, and the club was already coming for him, he rode the momentum of the hit to gain some more distance, and then he launched himself forward.


    Club met sword in another shower of sparks, and strength met refined technique. Guy''s sword should have been pushed back, but instead it slid off the surface of the club, going upwards even as the hobgoblin froze. Like a snake, it launched forward and took a nibble at the goblin''s hand. And a finger flew.


    Guy flowed past the goblin, landing behind the behemoth. It screamed in rage and the whole forest froze. Guy knew it then, and it filled him with no small amount of horror and pride. Here before him stood someone so much stronger, so much more resilient, impossible for him to defeat. He had landed upon the big bad boss, probably the leader of this whole forest goblin settlement. And the goblin''s body was swelling. It got taller, it''s muscles bulged out, almost the size of an ogre.


    ¡°Why? Why you puny humans come to our home, kill us?! You are weak. We capture your homes¡­¡±


    Guy took a breath. He could feel his stamina flagging. As for the rest of the expedition force. They were withdrawing. Obviously they''d had the roar of a mutant creature, and knew they were in danger.Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions.


    Guy just took another stance. Sure he couldn''t win under normal circumstances, but these weren''t normal circumstances. He could feel it. His body was tiring, his muscles torn, his breaths laboured. He could not escape from here. But he didn''t need to. He was on the verge of something. If he survived a few more minutes of this, he was pretty sure something big was going to happen.


    He could almost feel the world edge him on. He remembered Noid''s words about the world being a trial and what not, then he promptly dismissed them. He crouched, and launched himself forward with a lunge.


    The battle resumed. The trance took him, deeper than ever before. His breaths were slow, his senses were elevated but focused. He noticed everything his opponent did to the smallest detail. They crossed blades hundreds of times over the next thirty seconds, and hundreds of wounds gathered on the goblin''s body. Still, at the end of those thirty seconds, Guy was launched through five houses of mud and rock.


    He landed with a crush, dug a pit with his own body, and blocked his sight with a cloud of dust. There was pain, sure. But for some reason, he could ignore it, cut the sensation off. He was always in pain since he''d seen the world tear. It felt like this world was always trying to reject him. He wondered why he couldn''t die though.


    Not that any of that mattered. His body bruised and battered, his engine dry, Guy forced himself to his feet mere moments after his crush. He launched himself sideways even though he couldn''t see, and a crush and subsequent dust cloud told him he''d done the right thing.


    He crouched in a ready position. His enemy charged. He charged too, though with more grace than his enemy. They met in the middle. Their weapons clashed. He was not pushed back.


    He could not suddenly overpower the hobgoblin. He could, however, steal all the momentum from it''s hits, using it''s own strength against it. As the club came down, his sword came in from the side and slightly angled. Instead of being pushed back, the hit pushed him to the right and down, inside the monster''s guard. With that same momentum he slid past the monster''s body, leaving a slash on it''s gut.


    His body was flexible. Almost like it was made of rubber. He did not have stamina, but he felt something magical flow through his veins. He moved back to attack, and he could see the angle where he''d need to put his sword to steal the monster''s momentum again.


    Again and again and again. The monster cried out in pain, the wounds on its body accumulating. But he was an evolved monster, and so too his mental faculties. He''d seen the trick, or thought he had. It was simple really, the beast''s plan. And it might have worked too, if only he''d been fighting someone else.


    It decided not to clash with him. Instead, as it charged, it swung it''s club from overhead with both it''s hands. Guy was running towards it when he realised he wasn''t the target. It hadn''t decided to just leverage all it''s strength to give him a burst of momentum he could not hold. No. It decided to destroy the ground once he was in range, make him lose his footing, and raise a dust cloud all in one go to limit his vision. Guy could not stop his momentum, so he came up with a plan on the fly.


    He felt more energy swirling through his veins, his eyes sharpened, his legs pumped even more speed from him. The club slammed into the earth and for almost a kilometer around the hobgoblin, the earth shuddered. Guy kept his eyes on the club. Even as the earth he was stepping on started to rise. He ran in the air, fighting against the rebounding pressure. His feet landed on the club and he never stopped running with his waist bent and his head pointed ahead to streamline it.


    He ran up the hobgoblin¡¯s arms, leveraged his sword¡¯s sharp edge up just below the hobgoblin''s jaw. And then the rebound came, equal but opposite from the beast''s own momentum. He rode the wave, holding onto his sword as he leveraged it below the beast''s head. It drove through the beast''s jaw, and even as he flew he pushed inwards, and the blade kept going upwards with him. He didn''t quite make it to the posterior, but almost two third¡¯s of the beast''s head was bisected vertically.


    He saw, as he flew, groups of goblin mages flying around him with their magic focused on the hobgoblin. They''d been buffing it. He hadn''t even realised the beast had gotten almost as fast as him, and almost twice as strong as it''d been at the beginning, and that was after whatever midfight evolution it had gone through. Not that he hadn''t had his own evolution. If he hadn''t been about to break through in some way, Guy wanted to think he''d have had the sense to run away.


    A hobgoblin supported by goblin mages? That was a nightmare for rookie adventurers. It was lucky he specialised in speed, otherwise the mages might have had a more direct impact on the fight.


    As he dropped, he tried to reduce the impact of his landing. He was not able to prevent at least one of his legs from breaking, but at least he didn''t just splat like some of the goblin mages. He still didn''t know how he was going to escape.


    And then the roar reached him, and with a mass of blood and gore for a face, the hobgoblin ran toward him in one final anger fueled charge. He could see the flesh of it''s face trying to knit itself back together, but he had cut it straight to the bone. It wasn''t going to live. He couldn''t run, and whatever had been fueling him before was now exhausted. The club came down, just as the first squads of goblins were getting back to the village. Guy was crushed, then smashed, then pulped until there was nothing left.


    When he woke up, the big monster was draped over him, and the other goblins hadn''t noticed his revival. Mostly because he was covered in blood and so much pulped and burnt flesh, most of it his.The stench was sickening. They were distracted by something. He felt the condition of his body, and aside from a kind of weariness he could feel deep in his spirit, he was in peak physical condition. He sent a tendril of awareness into the woods, then further to where he''d left his party.


    They were trying to run. But they couldn''t. The goblins and hobgoblins were there. Not as many as were here with him in the village, but he had a feeling that once whatever was distracting them was over, they''d be going after the humans. Waiting a few moments, he scooted out from under the former ruler of this community. He tried to be sneaky as he crawled into the bushes, but he''d  never trained in that sort of thing.


    He snapped a twig with his leading hand. For a moment, everyone froze. He would have laughed if he wasn''t so terrified. He recovered first, getting up and bending as he started to pump his legs. His sword had not been removed from him, and his rugs still clung to his body. A hobgoblin got in his way, but he cut through it with a simple swing. He wanted to frown but he had no time.


    He cut through a wall of fire but continued to run even as the whole forest started to burn around him. The massive spell had even killed a few goblins. His mind settled into that state where nothing but his goal mattered. He cut through three more hobgoblins, almost ten spells, and just as many goblin mages. He dodged a few spells flung from behind him, cut through swathes of goblins he couldn''t even count. And around him the forest fell.


    He found them in an encirclement. Orlandir was panting, holding two blades and trying to scare the goblins to keep them back. Grunter was just behind him, spotting more wounds than Guy could count. The supervisor had the rear, holding some kind of wand with a shining book floating next to her.


    The other two girls were in the middle, both wheezing and doubled over. The elven girl looked pale, the other looked little better. He could see the devastation they''d wrought on the goblin population. It hadn''t been enough. They had to escape the moment signs of a monster surge appeared. He shouldn''t have been too cocky and gone into their village. This was his fault.


    He took a moment to get out of his own head with a heavy breath. He''d play the blame game later. For now all he needed was to help them escape. He fell on the goblins from behind, and in his wake came spells that devastated the goblins even if they''d been sent by their allies. He''d timed it just right, ending up in the area where the goblin line was the thickest. His arrival broke the peace.


    He spared a bit of attention for the others as he danced among the goblins. The supervisor let out a massive lava spell, and if he hadn''t been very busy with a fight Guy would have stopped to gawk. The flame haired girl pointed in the direction he''d come from, and a massive bolt of lightning fell upon the goblins that had chased him from the village.


    He took his eyes off them and continued his harvest, but his main objective was to find a route of escape. When the supervisor cooled the lava bathed area with an ice spell, no one needed any encouragement to run.

 Chapter 11. Another young monster.

    The goblins did not want to give up. The further they got from their nest though, the easier it was to pick them off. It was a running battle for sometime, Guy making sure to keep to the rear in case any more special goblins showed up.


    He dropped back when the other''s speed had faltered for the hundredth or so time. He swung his sword almost mechanically pulling off air cutting techniques and sword barrages which were staples of his two styles. He almost fell over when his twisting sword failed to connect to anything. He finally fell out of his trance, looking around in confusion. There were no more goblins on their tail.


    The others noticed as well. They didn''t stop moving though. Tired as they were, they could only walk slowly for hours until they felt they were far enough away. Even the dark didn''t stop them from walking on, Jasmine casting a light cantrip without any prompting.


    When they finally set up camp, no one was going to sleep and they all knew it. Guy was still in the rear, and he split off from the others before they complained too much about his involuntary nudity and whatever else. He had retrieved his pack as he''d withdrawn from the forest under intense fire from the goblin mages. How he''d remembered to pick it up even in the midst of his battle trance, he''d never know.


    He used the water in his flask to clean his face and arms at least. Everything else would have to wait. With that taken care of, he returned to his party. The supervisor watched him from a shared fire. She watched his every step.


    ¡°Explain,¡± she said succinctly.


    He shrugged. ¡°I realised what was happening when I ran into more than usual hobgoblin numbers, so I went to check out their camp. There were more goblins than I expected, and the leader was stronger than most of them. He evolved mid battle, and he had several goblin mages supporting him.¡±


    She gave him a blank look. He didn''t blame her. They were all too tired to do anything except stare at him blankly, like his words were hardly registering.


    ¡°How many is several?¡± she asked.


    ¡°Somewhere between fifty and a hundred,¡± he said with another shrug.


    She sighed, grimaced, then went to rub her brow and took a long breath.


    ¡°What were you thinking? Or did you not know how many there would be?¡±


    ¡°I overestimated my abilities,¡± he said with a wince. ¡°I''m sorry.¡±


    ¡°You''re sorry?¡± Jasmine said almost like she was whispering. ¡°You''re sorry? You''re sorry?!¡±


    The last was a shout and caused him to flinch for a second. But then he set his face and stared at the angry mage.


    ¡°You almost had us killed!¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± he said quietly, and she quieted and looked away from him.


    No one else said anything. They just sat there in the quiet for a long moment. He was the first to leave the comfort of the fire.


    ¡°I''ll take the first watch,¡± he declared, though he didn''t plan to wake any of the others.


    The return journey passed much faster than the first. They were all rushing to get that experience out of their minds, and they all had a hard time sleeping during their journey. Guy still kept to the back of the formation. When they saw the imposing walls of the city, he stopped and watched the others rush for it.


    He touched his sword hilt and looked back where they''d come from. Sure, he felt bad about getting these guys in trouble. But then again, he thought his hunt might have been a lot more carefree if he''d been there alone. And it wasn''t like he could get his guild card with such a performance. He couldn''t return to the mercenary company. Maybe heading right back and eliminating a village of goblins wasn''t the worst idea.


    He looked forward. The others had not even noticed he had stopped. That was kind of sad, but then again, they were not friends or anything. He turned back where they''d come from.


    ****


    ¡°You guys should all get some rest at inns or something. Take a bath, get some good food. I''ll see you at the guild tomorrow,¡± the supervisor said without turning around.


    Orlandir smiled. It was time for a legendary fight. He''d seen the guy, Guy, fight. The man had been impressive if very predictable. Besides, he''d killed an evolved monster. It had never seemed like the right time to challenge him, what with Jasmine being very angry and poor Rhea traumatized. He looked behind him to find the boy. There was no one.


    ¡°Hmm. Where did Guy go?¡± he asked Grunter.


    The giant just grunted and lifted his massive shoulder in a shrug. The girls were going their own direction, not even paying him any mind. With a shrug, he turned to head to an inn he knew well. He was sure he''d see Guy the next day. And then they''d have their duel right in the guild sparring rooms. The more watchers, the more glorious it would be anyway.


    The next day, he was called up to the guild master''s office. He''d never been there before, and he noticed there were a lot of people there too. Their supervisor was there, talking to the big man behind the desk. She saw him when he entered, and called him to stand with the rest of his party.


    ¡°He was there too? ¡° the guild master asked the woman. ¡°I think all four of them will be promoted straight to iron, for surviving that whole mess and bringing us this important information.¡±


    ¡°Four of them?¡± the woman asked, ¡°wait, where is that Wilde kid?¡±


    ¡°Wilde?¡± the guild master asked, and his expression turned flat.


    Orlandir noticed it, but he didn''t think any of the others did.Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website.


    Jasmine shrugged. ¡°He didn''t enter the Southern gate with us. I think he stayed behind somewhere. Rather, I doubt he entered the city.¡±


    ¡°What?!¡± the supervisor and the guild master shouted at once.


    Jasmine seemed to realise something was wrong as she looked at them in wide eyed confusion. Orlandir wanted to shake her. She''d known Guy wasn''t following and she''d said nothing. He wanted to spar with the asshole, and she knew, and she said nothing.


    ¡°Cynthia, I hope you have an explanation?¡± the guild master said through gritted teeth.


    The woman winced. ¡°I may have been a tad hard on the boy for overestimating his abilities. I know the others weren''t friendly with him, but I didn''t think he could¡­¡±


    ¡°Could what? Take being yelled at by a supposedly neutral supervisor as evidence he''d failed the test?¡±


    He sighed and looked at the children. ¡°Can either of you tell me where he could have gone?¡±


    Jasmine just shrugged, having gotten her poise back. Rhea didn''t meet the guild master''s eyes, and Grunter just stared at him unblinkingly. Orlandir took it as his cue to answer.


    ¡°He obviously went back to the nest. I think, the only reason he left in the first place was because we were there.¡±


    ¡°Explain,¡± the guild master and supervisor said together and startled. They looked to each other, but then the guild master snorted and turned away with a glower.


    ¡°Did you guys notice he wasn''t as wounded as the rest of us? I mean when we were first on the run, he had a lot of blood and his clothes were in pieces.  When he washed off the blood from his face and arms, there wasn''t a wound on him. And you guys were mad at him, so Rhea wouldn''t heal him.¡± He finished with another shrug.


    ¡°So he had a potent self healing spell. Is that what you''re saying?¡±


    ¡°That is not not what I''m saying. Or rather, not the main point. The main point is that he only left the forest because we were in danger. He did not overestimate his abilities. He just hadn''t accounted for us. So he came, saved our lives, and went back to his hunt. Or so I assume.¡±


    The guild master turned a glare on the former supervisor. ¡°You will get the boy back, or so help me-¡±


    He took a deep breath to calm himself down.


    ¡°He''s one of Jonathan''s boys, you know. The monsters he is picking up left and right. If the Ellans find out a Wilde was in the middle of this whole mess, I don''t want to consider how they''ll use that information. The Grandill noble house will take the fall for this oversight, but before that I need all witnesses accounted for. Find the boy.¡±


    ¡°I''ll go too,¡± Orlandir said in the intervening silence.


    He wasn''t interested in learning about which noble house they''d got in trouble and how the others would react. He was a commoner, after all. No need to be involved in that kind of thing.


    ¡°You will not,¡± the guild master said simply.


    ¡°Of course I will. You don''t own me. Besides, the guy owes me a duel. He ran away from it.¡±


    ¡°But we''ll need to protect you kids as witnesses-¡±


    ¡°I really don''t care about that, you know.¡±


    ¡°Well you should.¡±


    ¡°I don''t. Besides, I''ll be with Cynthia here and a couple other experienced adventurers, no? I don''t see a lot of safer options.¡±


    ****


    He was restless. He only slept a couple of hours every few hours, and then he was running until he was exhausted. By the evening of the next day, he could smell the smoke of the half destroyed forest.


    He reached the forest on the noon of the second day. He smiled like a predator seeing his first meal in a week. It had been four days, after all. It was time to hunt. He really hoped at least one of the remaining hobgoblins would give him a fight as good as the boss had.


    He fought for almost six hours, and the smarting of his muscles reminded him of the war he''d taken part in all those years ago. It was refreshing to go wild again after so long. He was exhausted by the end, and one of his arms had been lobed off in the fourth hour. He had multiple fractures and he was coughing blood. It was painful, but he grinned at the pain.


    And when he couldn''t lift his hands anymore they fell upon him with clubs and sharpened stones and crude iron tools. He screamed, the pain of a rock taking out his eye too strong to resist.


    When he resurrected, he could still feel all the phantom pain from the many, many stubs. He took his time to catch his breath, regain some mental energy. Two hours later he was harvesting goblins again.


    He destroyed the village eventually. Some goblins managed to escape, but he left those alone. There was a river some ways behind the village. He enjoyed a good refreshing bath.


    Then he sat in front of the shimmering orb at the edge of the village. They''d built a hut around it, covered up all nice and everything. It floated in that same place it had been since it''s birth. He wondered what, if anything, would happen if destroyed it. It would inconvenience the guild, and he wanted to join them eventually. He frowned up at it. It would cause a massive explosion, he was sure. Just then something appeared at the edge of his senses. He collected his sheathed long sword and ran to the edge of the forest in a half crouch.


    ¡°Relax, boy. We are allies,¡± he heard his former supervisor say.


    He stopped his charge and stood to study her and the party she had brought. Three men and two women, not considering Orlandir and Grunter. The five experienced adventurers were staring around at the bloody carnage with disbelief and confusion. The supervisor was torn between relief, scorn and a bit of smugness. Grunter had no expression to speak of, but Orlandir looked like a child who''d just received a birthday present.


    Guy frowned at the man, who noticed his look and grinned at him. Orlandir crossed his arms such that they each touched a blade sheathed on opposite sides. He unsheathed them, and Guy started.


    ¡°Orlandir,¡± the supervisor said in a kind of warning growl.


    ¡°I have to fight him. I have to. You can''t stop me.¡±


    And then he was charging. Guy unsheathed his own blade and started to warm up even as Orlandir pressed his attack. It wasn''t easy to deal with, Guy noticed. The man had some thing about him. His style was crude, but he used both blades like he could fight with both hands.


    Guy frowned. This was not the demon lord''s promise. It was a school of swordplay Guy had never even heard of. He smirked. Maybe he could enjoy this. He increased the pace of the fight, transitioning from defense to attack in one movement. Neither of his styles was particularly good at counter attacking or deflecting, they were all out attack oriented styles.


    He was still holding back, but he was pushing Orlandir enough, testing, probing the other swordsman to see what he could do. And Orlandir always had an answer. His style had a dedicated parrying technique, it seemed.


    It took five minutes for Guy to see what he thought were the other swordsman''s limits. Still, he had enjoyed fighting someone with such an exotic style. He upped the tempo once more, getting his sword to twist past both Orlandir''s blades and aim for his chest. The other man used the guard of one of his swords to not only block but trap Guy''s sword for a second while his second sword came in for a counter attack. Guy dodged it just barely, letting his sword go.


    As the sword fell, he extended his leg to try and flip it into the air but Orlandir had just set up his ultimate move. Holding both his hands straight at his sides, he started to spin and it was all Guy could do to back pedal only slightly dodging the rotating blades with each movement. For a moment, Orlandir became a rotating whirlwind with the swords flapping up and down to make sure the whole area around him was covered in a domain of steel. Only for a moment though.


    ¡°You¡­¡± Guy was flabbergasted.  ¡°That technique is almost at a sword master level.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, I''m impressive, ain''t I?¡± Orlandir said in between wheezes.


    ¡°Yeah¡­ but you''re a beginner. You can''t be past the intermediate stage. You can''t just skip a step. Who was your teacher?¡±


    ¡°Teacher?¡± Orlandir scoffed. ¡°I don''t need one of those. I taught myself. I''m the best.¡±


    ¡°You¡­created your own sword style,¡± Guy said even as he deflated.


    Yeah the guy had earned his right to be cocky. What had Guy done? Just gotten lucky to meet Noid and join the Wilde company. He suddenly felt so tired.


    ¡°Your style has a lot of potential, you know. You need to get a teacher, learn the basics, then don''t skip steps. That pseudo sword domain you have is quite the move.¡±


    ¡°So I won?¡±


    ¡°Well,¡± Guy said with a sigh, ¡°you definitely did not lose.¡±


    Orlandir nodded like that was obvious. ¡°You are strong too, you know. So what''s your plan now you''re an adventurer?¡±


    Guy looked at the supervisor with wide eyes. ¡°I passed the test?¡±


    ¡°Yeah you did. I would have told you if you weren''t so sensitive for such an annoying guy.¡±


    ¡°An annoying¡­Guy?¡± he tilted his head with a small smile.


    She snorted and threw something at him. An iron badge with his name on it.


    ¡°I''m iron already? That means I can get back to the company now.¡±


    ¡°The company?¡± Orlandir asked.


    ¡°The Wilde mercenary company. It''s where I was supposed to go after earning this badge. Still, Jonathan did say I ought to keep away from there for a while. Perhaps I should get training in the city as Jonathan advised me to.¡±


    ¡°If you don''t have any concrete plans, why don''t you join me and Grunter for a while? You said I need a teacher. How about we train together? I could teach you my new style, and with your strength, we could take on more expensive jobs.¡±


    Guy hesitated, remembering Noid''s warning about attachments and insignificant relationships. Hadn''t he once seen Orlandir torn in half by the world itself. But the man was a genius swordsman, on the other hand. And Guy found he really hated solitude. He couldn''t go back to the company for now, so what was the harm in travelling with this guy for a while. He''d even get a new sword style from it. One that promised to be strong.

 Chapter 12. It has to end somehow.

    An older, bitterer version of Noid stood and watched the world he''d created.


    ¡°So it''s almost over, heh?¡± the thief asked from beside him.


    ¡°I have to make it end somehow. I didn''t think the boy''s skill could get any more ridiculous.¡±


    They stood in silence for a time, watching the boy fight with his new friend. He looked happy, and that forced a scowl on Noid''s face.


    ¡°Whatever the case, it''s been of use to us. I''m still unable to determine what all the skill does, or rather, it does way too much. A lot,¡± the first Skyholm said as he joined them.


    ¡°Hmmm,¡± the enchantress said as she joined them in their vigil. ¡°Even the greatest soul architect in the universe cannot understand such a simple thing. The boy¡¯s subconscious is trying to keep him in one piece while he heals.¡±


    ¡°So he created a brand new skill?¡±


    Enith shrugged. ¡°That may be interesting and all, but I''m more interested in what your little turning off the system experiment is doing, Noid?¡±


    ¡°What do you mean?¡± Noid asked.


    It was the first Skyholm who answered. ¡°While I don''t have Enith¡¯s love for experiments and all that, I have to say the damage to his soul from not being able to level up is intriguing.¡±


    Noid looked flabbergasted. ¡°He cannot gain levels? But then all the experience he''d have gotten from this¡­Does that mean the trial is having to recalibrate all the monsters and foes so he''s not totally outclassed. What like a guided rift?¡±


    They watched another part of the make believe world. A part which Noid was influencing as they spoke. The ugly expression of the noble man he knew so well as he spoke to lord Grandill about the unfairness of commoners getting in his business. Sure, the boys found something unpleasant in the now devastated woods, but they should have reported to lord Grandill before going to the guild. Or so his biological father kept saying. Commoners were not allowed to stand up against nobles, and so they ought to be taught a lesson. Noid turned away from the scene with disgust.


    ¡°Is that really necessary?¡± the thief asked.


    ¡°Breaking his applicants is part of Noid''s trial, so maybe,¡± the first Skyholm said.


    Noid sighed. ¡°I''m not trying to create a clone of me like someone here. I need to see how he reacts.¡±


    Everyone looked to the enchantress, who just whistled a jaunty tune and wouldn''t meet any of their eyes.


    ¡°Anyway, about the fact the boy isn''t leveling up. How will he defeat my final challenge if he cannot grow stronger?¡±


    ¡°I thought you don''t want him to defeat the challenge,¡± the first Skyholm said, ¡°besides, he is effectively immortal anyway. He can come up with tricks after fighting someone for a few hundred rounds.¡±


    ¡°I will be happy if he chooses not to take the final challenge. Only, it''s impossible for him not to destroy my family. If not for revenge, then for some other reason. The trial will force him.¡±


    ¡°I can''t believe he has a skill that allows him to tolerate desonance caused by time dilation, among many other mental status effects. That has potential,¡± Enith said with a thoughtful smile.


    ¡°And that is where his experience is going, in case you were wondering. It''s weird. I could probably heal his soul, but if those wounds can be left, there is a lot of potential there.¡±


    ¡°You mean¡­his skills?¡± Noid asked with a bemused expression.


    ¡°And on that note, I would like your help with my latest project, Sam,¡± Enith addressed the thief.


    The woman only snorted. ¡°So I take it you''ve decided on a gift for the boy?¡±


    ¡°Well, it''s more like I really need his help,¡± she confided.


    ¡°Well tough luck. I have some shit I wanna give him too. You can''t change my mind.¡±


    ¡°It''s about the kids,¡± Enith said in a small voice.


    The thief just snorted. ¡°You''re gonna have to try a little harder than that. Everyone knows you''re an emotionless asshole.¡±


    The woman just shrugged and grinned. ¡°I just asked you as a courtesy, Sam. I''m not going to bribe you. Rather I''ll just force your hand.¡±


    Then she leaned toward Noid, whispering so the thief could not hear.


    ¡°Give him your blessing.¡±This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.


    Noid started, ¡°but that will¡ª¡±


    ¡°Force her hand. This is the only time someone has completed your trial, and in such a way that they''ve completely exhausted your spirit remnant. Your trial might not be available for the next million years, if ever. Think about it. I''ve done the calculations. He''s the perfect candidate.¡±


    Noid looked at the enchantress for a long time, then down at the boy.


    ¡°He has exhausted me,¡± Noid admitted, ¡°but he hasn''t completed the trial yet.¡±


    ****


    It took Guy, Orlandir, and their quiet party mate Grunter only five years to buy a house for themselves in the city. They''d had to spend a lot of their money going for training from some of the most famous trainers in the city, even Grunter getting courses in blunt weapons and arm to arm combat. And they''d somehow made it all the way past bronze and into the middle of silver.


    In a few more years, Guy knew they''d reach gold rank status, only a step away from jade. Although that was still years away, and they''d have to be at the peak of advanced level in whatever form of combat they chose.


    Guy watched Orlandir jump up and down in a downstairs room that, in a normal house hold, would have been a dining hall. They''d decided to turn into a gym instead. Grunter was somewhere up the stairs inspecting the bedrooms.


    Orlandir was going to achieve mastery with his self created style in a few months. Guy sighed. He''d had to learn two more styles of swordplay, and he''d risen all the way to the advanced rank in all three, but geniuses still had that edge about them.


    Would he ever catch up to Noid, Orlandir even? He didn''t know the answer. He''d started to use his left hand more, in a bid to learn Orlandir''s style as well. He wanted to be ambidextrous. Still Orlandir''s looked like the kind of style that would benefit from short twin blades.


    And all the styles were like that, he''d found. The demon god''s promise prioritised short swords and parrying knives, while the earth shattering preferred great swords. The sword saint preferred long blades, and the Northern wind preferred sabers.


    He''d wondered why Noid used a bastard sword, but now he understood. It was what he was most comfortable with. He had to adapt all the skills he got from those many different styles and use them to create his own style. That was his path to mastery.


    Guy grabbed a piece of paper from his pocket, studying the sword he''d envisioned. It was a slim saber, single curved edge, long. It had a circular guard and a long grip to accommodate two hands. It was light enough that he could hold it with one hand. And despite the fact that Orlandir, the asshole, said it was too pretty it was more like a lady''s ornament, Guy knew it was deadly too. It was also delicate, and would probably get destroyed a few times, which is why he hadn''t commissioned one yet.


    ¡°What are you thinking?¡± the subject of said thoughts slapped him on the back. ¡°Do you not like the house?¡±


    ¡°No, I like it. I was just wondering how your girlfriend Jasmine would feel once she found out I''ll be able to hear you two going at it every night.¡±


    Orlandir stuck out his tongue.


    ¡°Am as single as you bro. Thanks for bringing down the mood, now we gotta earn enough money so we can afford to keep girls around. And, as if I could ever date a girl as classy as Jasmine.¡±


    They both looked into space, quietly contemplating their celibate lives.


    ¡°Let''s get to the guild right now. Let''s take on a quest right this instant,¡± Orlandir prompted.


    ¡°Yeah, no time like the present to start collecting money.¡±


    They yeld at Grunter that they''d be going, and he answered, through a series of grunts that he was good. For some reason, Guy was starting to understand the reticent man''s language. He''d stayed with these guys for years, and he was starting to wonder whether he''d ever go back to the Wilde company. He could surely get back by now, but he did not.


    A few friendly faces greeted them at the guild.


    ¡°There''s our silver rank geniuses,¡± a big man called Hodo, an old acquaintance said. ¡°Heard you guys got yourself a house?¡±


    Orlandir shrugged. ¡°Yeah man. And it''s quite big.¡±


    Guy left Orlandir to do the bragging, as he was wont to do. He noticed that way more people were paying attention than usual. Maybe getting a house was a big deal. He could have sworn someone from the jade pavilion upstairs was watching Orlandir as he spoke. He wondered what was special about the floor, one of the few visible perks of reaching the high rank.


    ¡°So what quest are the new property owners thinking of taking up?¡± a gold ranker who''d never so much as spoken to him beamed at him.


    ¡°That''s private info,¡± Guy said with a frown.


    The man backed up, his hands raised and a forced laugh. Guy watched him go all the way. His head was killing him. There was something trying to probe him somehow, and he had to fight. He blinked all of a sudden, looking at the retreating man. He surveyed the rest of the common room with a growing frown, but then his headache returned and he decided to leave it.


    For some reason, the quest they''d got reminded him of that quest they''d done as a test all those years ago. It was a monster subjugation, although these were stronger monsters that looked like the pre evolutionary versions of wild boars. They were bigger, almost as big as an adolescent elephant, and they had fire for manes.


    ¡°Is that a dungeon overflow?¡± Orlandir asked as they watched the stampeding monsters from a rise that surrounded the front of the dungeon.


    ¡°Yeah,¡± Guy said with a frown, ¡°apparently every silver ranker and above is going to be forced to come here until this problem is dealt with. Personally, I''m confused. Isn''t this dungeon supposed to be one of the popular ones?¡±


    ¡°Who cares about any of that? This is perfect for you. I''ll just wait over here while you destroy the stampede. Then we can get all that reward money for this quest.¡±


    Guy snorted. ¡°And the genius planner strikes again. Just dive in, he says.¡±


    ¡°Dude, it''s your speciality. The only thing that you''re better than me at. Surviving untenable odds. Think about the women, bro, the women.¡±


    Guy studied the at least more than two hundred monsters. He was sorely tempted. Still, the destruction they were causing was not insignificant, and the last time Guy had battled a horde of beast''s he''d razed a whole section of a forest, a section that was just starting to grow back five years later. He looked at Orlandir who was staring at him with the most innocent expression, probably lost in his head thinking about women. Guy snorted. Fine, he''d do it for the crazy idiot. He''d do anything to repay this idiot for the last few years.


    It was uncomfortable, using a running start to launch himself into the air and strike with an earth shattering technique while using a long sword. Still, using weapons incompatible with the disparate styles allowed him to prepare for when he''d use his own special blade. A line ten boars long was cut to pieces. He landed in a crouch, sword tip already pointed towards the ground, and he swung before the beasts had finished surveying the new intruder.


    And just like that, his warm up was done, and the techniches were flying, transitioning from flowing strikes to powerful diagonal slashes to heavy overhead swings to small but uncountable stabs and slashes. It was exhilarating. It was also easy to get injured, especially when he used the heavy strikes of the earth shattering style. They were more concerned with damage than speed. Somehow he knew when he fully adopted the style, he''d change it''s focus from strength to speed.


    The injuries piled up, but he was so deep into the boars lines he hoped Orlandir didn''t see too much as he found a rock to hide behind and waited for the boars to finish him off. He came back swinging, and tried to not get so injured this time. He''d finally found what the resurrections cost him.


    Every time he died, he resurrected with the worst headache, and it had been getting worse over time. It had started as a big blunt drill, but it had steadily gotten smaller over the years, and now it was as small and minuscule as a needle. A needle like drill. When they couldn''t get any smaller, they''d started to increase in number, and now it felt like hundreds of tiny sharp drills were trying to tear his brain apart.


    He gritted his teeth and kept on fighting. If nothing, he''d at least become quite accustomed to pain by now.


    He breathed deep as the last boar fell, using his sword to support himself. He dragged his exhausted body back to the slight rise where he''d left his friend watching. There was no way he was going to enter the over full dungeon alone.


    Only, shouldn''t Orlandir have talked to him by now, called out a joke or something. He was already two thirds of the way up the slope, and there was not a sign of anyone. Wariness seeped through the haze of pain that was his head. He raised his sword and continued to trudge upwards, this time a little more consciously.


    There was no one up on the hill. Only, there should have been someone. Where was Orlandir? Why was his enhanced perception unable to pierce a certain area around him?


    ¡°Oh, this one has good senses,¡± a voice said from right behind him.


    Very close behind him, like he''d only need shift his back slightly and they''d be in contact. He started to turn, but the knife was already sheathed in his neck by then.


    The illusion fell and he saw a torn and bloodied Orlandir scream in defiance against more than thirty opponents.

 Chapter 13. The red night that wont end.

    On a hill not even fifty kilometers away from Hossford city, Guy Wilde saw his closest friend, his brother, his rival, die to insurmountable odds. He went down swinging. There was a whole party of jade rank adventurer''s, including the assassin who''d surprised him.


    She was surprised herself when he didn''t go down just from a knife to the throat. If Orlandir could still fight, then who the hell was he to give up. He swung a sword at her and she only barely managed to get a dagger up to block. He still pushed her back. He wasn''t going to challenge a jade ranked assassin to a speed based duel.


    He had to save Orlandir anyway, and he just needed that space to use the closest thing to a movement technique in his arsenal. He flew through the air, raised his sword over head. The great ax wielder he''d aimed for received a warning from the assassin, and he managed to bring his ax around just in time, though the strength based technique forced him to his knees.


    He was fast, as expected of a jade rank, and a swing of his great ax left rents in the air and moved with a wave of compressed air that was no less deadly than the sharp edge of the blades. He wondered how Orlandir had survived more than five seconds against these bastards. Especially since he had survived the ax only to get two knives to both lungs.


    He swiveled with his sword held rigidly, only for the whole battle to flicker out of existence again. He was confused for a moment, but then his arm fell straight off his body after one perfect chop of an invisible ax. He''d forgotten about the illusion mage, the leader of the jade ranked party.


    Then he felt it. The tang of iron in the air. The illusion broke like the softest glass, and he saw the glorious battle that was the crowning jewel of his friend''s life.


    Guy had projected a few months, but the bastard had barely lasted a day before stepping into the master realm. And it was a glorious moment too. It almost looked like a magic spell. A man standing with two swords held at his sides, his eyes half closed, his stance set. He was motionless, were as in its advanced state it had required him to rotate like a drill.


    A storm of swords surrounded him, and any who moved close felt the wrath of iron. Guy could see a hundred ways for the technique to develop, but it was not enough to save his friend even for all it''s power and potential.


    One of the jade rankers was an archer. He didn''t bother to aim though, as he sought to fight the sword domain with a rain of arrows. Guy didn''t know if the illusionist helped him, but he felt Orlandir''s swords cut through thousands of arrows. It was not enough. There were millions of arrows, as the archer also seemed to have a quick draw technique. The last batch of arrows were faster and had a coating of fire that caused micro explosions on the ground around Orlandir and in his body too.


    The archer fell back panting, and a gold ranker Guy knew stepped forward to take care of him. He was some kind of support mage, and Guy knew the guy could refill other''s mana. The archer was a hybrid warrior mage type. That was irrelevant at the moment though, and as Guy watched Orlandir''s domain fall, he took a crouched stance, managing to balance himself with only one hand, his sword tip aimed at the ground in a one handed grip.


    The great ax wielder stood in front of him and raised his ax in a pantomime of the earth shattering style. Or maybe the style had been based on such heavy weapons in the first place. Guy didn''t have time to consider as he loped forward, his sword already slashing. Like a snake, his sword swiveled around the ax and his body followed as half the momentum meant to crash him instead increased the speed of his rush toward his friend.


    The distance would not shrink. A sword wielder using the same style as him interposed himself between Guy and his goal, and Guy just had to use the man''s swings to rush past him. He was a gold ranker, and perhaps deep in the advanced level, but Guy''s personal style of fighting stronger opponents was based on evasion and taking advantage of the momentum.


    He was close. The assassin appeared out of nowhere to his left and only his long honed instincts managed to save him at the last moment. He used the flat of the blade to block and rolled sideways to disperse the momentum and build some distance. Even though his unarmed shoulder caused spots of black to appear in his vision, he got out of his roll and straight to his feet, and straight to running like crazy.


    A sword took Orlandir through the chest even as less than two metres separated him and Guy. A boisterous man laughed, a familiar laugh. Someone who''d spoken to Orlandir just a few hours ago at the guild. The man laughed hysterically, even as Orlandir lifted his head. Tired eyes, rivers of blood flowing down them like tears, met Guy''s own, and the bastard smirked.


    ¡°... surviving untenable odds,¡± the bastard mouthed through blood drenched teeth. ¡°That''s your speciality. That''s all¡­you''re better than me at.¡±


    His words were so quiet, only Guy could have understood them after all the time they''d spent together. He saw the moment his friend''s candle puckered out. No, not a candle, a bonfire that had enough fuel still to grow so large it would have cast Guy''s candle in shadow. Taken out just like that, and by their fellow adventurers. He didn''t know when he started screaming.


    Wounds collected on both sides as his rage addled mind collapsed. His body moved mechanically through hundreds of movements perfected through repetition.  He only came to when his body collapsed, his legs sheared off at the knees.  He had only one limb out of four, and his sword was still aimed. A swing of an ax saw him lose that too.


    ¡°Hah! You don''t see that everyday,¡± Hodo of the gold rankers said. ¡°He is still raring to go. Look at how those stumps of his are flailing about. Maybe we should leave him like this.¡±


    The two jade rankers nearest to Guy gave Hodo dirty looks.


    ¡°Do not play with your meals, gold,¡± the assassin said.


    ¡°He was a mighty warrior,¡± the bloodied ax wielder said as he lifted his weapon, ¡°we ought to show him the proper respect he deserves.¡±


    He saw the ax coming for his head and could do nothing. Yet he was so angry that he couldn''t help but flail ineffectually. Dismembering wouldn''t slow down his resurrection much, but he doubted even ten minutes would be enough to find these murderers still here. He crammed all their thirty odd faces. There would be blood poured in Hossford city, starting from the receptionists of the guild.


    ****


    There had been an explosion, and apparently the house involved, in the lower district of the city belonged to some newly minted silver rank adventurers. Cynthia sighed as she stared at the two formerly two storey pieces of rabble.If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.


    ¡°Miss Cynthia? Fancy seeing you here,¡± an orange haired beauty spoke.


    Cynthia saw her, looked around, and sure enough her half elf friend was already there joining the healers at the triage centre.


    ¡°Jasmine,¡± she said with a civil nod, ¡°I''d say it''s more surprising seeing you here. How is the merchant''s district connected to this?¡±


    ¡°This was an act of terrorism committed in broad day light, near the gates of our beloved city. All law enforcement should be on the case.¡±


    ¡°You make a good point. I don''t see any of the nobles¡¯s patrols though.¡±


    Jasmine just turned her eyes to the rabble.


    ¡°Any idea about the identities of these poor souls, and were they in?¡± Jasmine asked.


    ¡°I''m waiting on that information right now. You are a hopeless investigator though. The information about this building should have been easier to find in the merchant''s district.¡±


    ¡°I was in a hurry, okay. And let it be put on record that it took me way less time to make investigator than it did you.¡±


    Cynthia just snorted, as if to say whose fault was that. Just then a bedraggled looking aide arrived, panting and bending over her knees to catch her breath.


    ¡°Lady Cynthia, here are the details about the adventurers who owned that house,¡± she said and proffered the note.


    Cynthia and Jasmine bent over the piece of paper and quickly riffled through it''s contents. Then both their heads snapped up like they''d been slapped. Cynthia was going to say something when she noticed someone wearing a hood and standing just behind her courier. Fast as breath, the man withdrew a tiny blade and pressed it onto the girl''s back, whispering in her ear that he''d kill her should she so much as make a sound.


    Both Cynthia and Jasmine tensed. They were on an active crime scene, for crying out loud. Lots of city guards and adventurers loitered about, yet a suspicious individual had somehow made it to stand next to them. And when he spoke his voice sounded familiar.


    ¡°Hello Jasmine, Cynthia,¡± he greeted and the hint of long hair tied in a band at the back of the hood confirmed his identity.


    ¡°You and Orlandir had gone for a quest?¡± Jasmine asked very fast, ignoring the tension of the moment. ¡°Where is he?¡±


    The hooded man stared at them for a few beats, then he sighed.


    ¡°Orlandir is dead. I''d only come here to see if I could do anything for Grunter, but I was too late.¡±


    Jasmine just hang her head, and the hooded man was content to give her a few moments to grieve. Cynthia could see the fear building in her aide''s eyes, and she subtly shook her head to tell the girl not to try and sound the alarm.


    ¡°Enough of that dier news,¡± Guy said with such false cheer, it was jarring, ¡° I heard you''re both doing well. Orlandir liked to keep tabs on you. Congratulations are in order.¡±


    ¡°Thank you?¡± they both said quietly, frowns starting to form on their faces.


    ¡°So you have the guild master''s ear again, Cynthia?¡±


    ¡°Y-yes?¡±


    ¡°Good for you. I feel like you''re the one who''s more attached to this girl. I would let Jasmine go, but she''d probably sic the guards on me. I don''t need that.¡±


    ¡°I won''t, I swear.¡±


    They both ignored her.


    ¡°What do you want?¡± Cynthia asked.


    ¡°Information. I want you to go to the guild, get me all the information on the receptionists who were active during the day shift. I mean names, addresses, known hangouts, the whole deal. And you''d better do it before you tell the guild master on me. After that, I''ll let the girl go unharmed, and you can tell on me to the guild master all you want.¡±


    ¡°What are you going to do to those poor girls?¡±


    ¡°Poor? I''ll guarantee you those receptionists are suddenly richer than you, a formerly active gold rank adventurer. Now how could that be? You have ten minutes.¡±


    Cynthia rushed off, and she could see the crazy kid following her but very slowly. He didn''t want to be too near the guild when he got the information, all the easier to run from the guild master, perhaps.


    ****


    Helen of Doyle had recently received the biggest windfall of her life. Ten gold, just to tell a bunch of kid adventurers a certain quest was mandatory. When Diane had brought them the deal, they could hardly believe it. And when Hearse, the jade rank invisibility magic expert, the best assassin in the city had backed the other receptionist up, who was she to resist.


    Three silver rank adventurers against a whole party of jades. It was such a ridiculous bet, she could not not take it. Whoever had organised the whole thing sure was meticulous.


    She wasn''t the one who''d given the boys the quest in the end, but all eleven of them on the bottom floor had been bought off. And now her and three of her colleagues were living it up in a bar all the way at the border between the merchant district and the noble district. First off, she thought bars were so much better than taverns.


    Here they had stronger drinks, softer drinks, drinks that had some flavour. There were bards every single hour of every single day. And there were professional escorts. The best of them cost upwards of ten silvers, but what was ten silvers to her. She had ten thousand silver. Well, minus the amount she''d spent on drinks.


    For the thousandth time, she told her friends how the muscular escorts didn''t tickle her fancy. She was maybe considering a moderately priced, moderately handsome one. Just then, she caught a hint of long dark brown hair, interspersed with a few white strands, tied in what was considered a warrior''s ponytail in some barbarian cultures outside the cities.


    ¡°See that? Now that''s what a real warrior''s body looks like. Not so big, not so small. Limber, and the way he walks. Yumm! I mean, I spend all day looking at ragged, manly adventurers. These muscles built through calculated artifice dare not sway me. Oh, and he''s coming this way.¡±


    The man reached them, blue eyes shifting to take in everyone at the table. There was something about that intensity that set her body to tingling. She licked her lips, and when his attention did not return to her, she tried to bite them and moarn suggestively. He only looked back for a moment before looking away again. She pouted.


    ¡°Shes¡¯s not here too,¡± he said with a sigh. The he shrugged, ¡°I''m looking for a Diane.¡±


    Helen snorted. ¡°You came here for her?¡± she pointed to her current rival, who was directly across the man. ¡°I''ll give you twenty silvers to go with me instead.¡±


    The man just nodded, and faster than a blink he had unsheathed a half length sword and cut off the red haired Diane''s right hand. It took a few moments for Helen to process the red flowing down her cheeks. She screamed at the same time as the rest of her table.


    The man flicked his blade and Jess, who''d been right next to him, fell dead. Right across from Helen, Sinda snapped her mouth shut.


    ¡°They told me you were the one who brought the information about the quest,¡± he spoke to Diane, ignoring both Helen and Sinda. ¡°Where''d the job come from?¡±


    He was calm. Too calm even as the bar broke into pandemonium and the guards started to run toward them. They were slow. Too slow. She''d seen how fast he''d killed Jess, and he''d be done with her and Sinda before the guards started swinging their swords, let alone before they cleared twelve metres of distance, in a crowded bar where people were getting in their way in their selfish bids to escape from the crazy table and it''s occupants. They had at least a minute of uninterrupted time, and he only needed a few micro seconds to kill them all.


    ¡°If you tell me, I''ll kill you fast. If you don''t, I''ll take all your hands and feet, but leave you alive. Alive but with a slow acting poison which does not have a known cure. You''ll die slowly, and in pain, within the week, but you''ll still die. It''s your choice really. You bet, and you lost. But you were dealing in lives. There is no option here except death.¡±


    Helen felt her stomach sink even as Diane stared at the man with defiance. She would not yield to threats, her friend''s eyes seemed to shout.


    The man just sighed.


    ¡°The torturous option it is.¡±


    And faster than thought he''d cut off her other hand, and the table was falling, perfectly cut into four pieces, and Helen was falling back on her stool. And there was a foot flying in the air. It landed next to her head.


    ¡°I hope your ten gold will let you live happily at least for this last week of your life as a cripple.¡±


    She saw him turn to her, and she heard Diane wail piteously, and where were the guards? As he turned to her in almost slow motion, she made a decision. She did not want to live as a cripple.


    ¡°I don''t know everything,¡± she screamed, and the man hesitated, tilting his head to show she had his attention. ¡°But there was something about the monster nest five years ago. Apparently the nobles were not happy with being implicated.¡±


    He looked like he was going to say something, maybe ask which nobles, but then seemed to think better of it. The guards broke through the throng of party goers, and still the man did not rush. He stared down at her thoughtfully, nodded, then proceeded to decapitate Sinda without so much as looking in her direction. He hadn''t even moved toward her.


    His blade work was beautiful. That was the last thought she had before the darkness took her.