INEXORABLE CHAOS: INAEQUO

Book One

Nino Becirevic

Copyright © 2022 Nino Becirevic

All rights reserved

Contains descriptions of nudity and lizard sex. No eldritch abominations were molested in the writing of this novel.
All characters are fictional. Any resemblance to actual Gods, Deities, or Discord server members is purely coincidental regardless of how accurately they are described.

No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a interdimentional library, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, magical, biological, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the person whose name is on the front page of this book.

I want to thank my two editors, Trinity Gadjet and Govian Game, for brutally telling me how shitty my writing is and then helping me improve over the years. If you both are reading this, which you probably are, I just want to say Thank you.

I aslo want to thank Royalroad.com for giving me a platform to write and improve.

Contents

Title Page

Copyright

Dedication

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CHAPTER NINETEEN

CHAPTER TWENTY

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

About The Author

CHAPTER ONE

The Universe. The word gives no true context for the phenomenon. There are many universes, some side-by-side, some an imaginary turn away along an entirely different axis of reality.

While the fact of multiple universes is immutable, the universes themselves are not. Realities are constantly in flux, changing from one state to another, bleeding from one space-time to another.

However, just as it is a fact that there are multiple universes, there are other fundamental facts as well. Sometimes, despite everything always changing, some things never do.

For example, life. It doesn’t always exist. It can’t always exist, not when the laws of a universe do not allow for its preconditions. But when it does …

A soul exists.

That is another true statement. Life creates souls, just as souls create life. Life may exist without souls and souls may exist without life, but the two are so inexplicably intertwined such that you rarely see one without another.

Those with souls are part of the cycle of the universe, the cycle that never ends. They build and destroy, find joy and suffer, altering reality at a whim and similarly being altered by reality in every moment they continue to exist.

And you can’t kill a soul. Not truly. The soul may be fluctuant, but there is something fundamental to it, something unyielding. A shard that refuses to stop existing.

Sometimes, this shard grows to become more than a shard. Sometimes, the shard envelopes the entire soul, such that it refuses to fade, refuses to be changed.

And some of those souls become gods.

That is where this story begins. A mutable reality, one inhospitable to life, but one holding an unaging god.

And here that god waits.

**********************

On a rock suspended in the void, surrounded by a field of asteroids, sits a circular table, a wooden table, perfectly trimmed and painted a sleek, glossy red.

Around the table are six imposing chairs with ornate-high backs, as though made to imitate thrones. Five are empty but one is occupied. The being at the table presents as a clean shaven man with short black hair. He wears a black suit over a red dress shirt, and a stovepipe top hat      rests perfectly upon his head.

His expression is one of brooding. He is waiting for the specified moment, the appointed millisecond, the instant in time to open the portals so his ‘coworkers’ may enter his domain, that which had been his prison for an almost overwhelming amount of time.

The god waits patiently. He hadn’t always been patient, it was not something that came naturally to him. Patience was something he was forced to learn or else risk madness. Or so he tells himself in his lucid moments.

But still … Soon.

With a deep shuddering breath, the man leans back, watching the rocks, asteroids in size, orbiting his island in the void.

He lifts his gloved hand, moving it in front of himself, touching his middle finger to his thumb.

He lightly snaps. He doesn’t need to do so, it’s only for dramatic effect. Though there is no one to show off to, the god is a creature of habit.

A sound echoes. However, it is not the sound of a snap, nor of any natural reality, but of the void itself shuddering as the man's soul expands and reaches out. It consumes six asteroids, annihilating them at both the atomic and metaphysical levels.

He snaps again.

Just as quickly as it grew, his soul recompresses.

Snap.

The energy he had harvested from the stones moves at his will, converging quickly around the table, separating into five balls that each move beside an unoccupied chair.

Snap.

The unstable energy vibrates in place, the surface of it expanding and retracting, until      finally it changes into something more … usable.

Snap.

The walls of reality between his world and another  bend behind the chairs. As though the energy never truly forgot its once volatile nature, it tears through the barrier of the universe and creates five portals.

From each gate, a being steps through.

With a final snap the portals close, the energy dispersing, but not disappearing … awaiting the time when the man might bridge reality again.

___

I lowered my ruby-red gloved hand back down to the table, resting it atop my other.

I don a welcoming smile as I watch the other gods look around themselves, staring into the depths of my former prison … five souls quivering in confusion, fear, curiosity, anger …

‘Well, Kumiho's been angry ever since she found where her people had been stolen to.’

As one, the gods walk forward, each pulling out their chair and sitting down.

Prprprrrrr

All eyes turn to Laverna, the goddess of thieves, as she stands back up. She reaches under the cushion of her seat and lifts up a whoopee cushion, the source of the sound.

With a control that has taken several tens of millennia to perfect, I manage to keep my expression neutral as her emerald-green eyes turn to me.

Ignoring the eyes boring into me, I look to the other gods.

The reactions to my little prank are quite diverse.

Coyote, a North American[1] god of mischief, is snickering in his seat, clearly enjoying the icebreaker.

Anansi, an African god of trickery, smiles calmly at me as a small pet spider crawls along his dark bare chest.

‘I should get him a Spider-Man shirt.’

Hermes, the Greek messenger god of travelers, jitters in his seat, unaccustomed to sitting down for any length of time. His head swivels quickly, constantly looking around.

‘He reminds me of a toddler on a sugar rush.’

And finally there is Kumiho, a Korean fox goddess. Part fox, part human. She glares threateningly at me, not at all amused with my little prank on her lover Laverna.

‘Yes, we gods are a weird bunch …’

“Loki, stop with these incessant games of yours and tell us why you have called this meeting,” Kumiho exclaims loudly, her nine tails puffed up in annoyance.

‘I bet those tails are supremely soft.’

Nodding at Kumiho and Laverna who finally takes her seat, I spread out my arms. “This place, as I am sure you all are curious about, used to be my prison. It is completely devoid of life and energy, both of which are required for a god to survive.”

I shake my head, my smile faltering. “I lived here for so long … abandoned by my former family.”

The other gods look at me, curious about who I actually am … My grin returns. ‘If only they knew the truth.’

“Vengeance.” Anansi voices.

“Heh … No. Vengeance does not motivate me. I can admit that it is a factor, but no.” I look to the other gods, making sure that I have their attention. “I am a god of chaos … of controlled chaos. My job is to create change … because without change, nothing will improve. Without change, life becomes stale. It becomes … passé.”

“I create evil to fight good, life out of death, calamity from success, and silver linings in dark clouds     . Right now … Orbis has spiraled so deeply into monotony that the very concepts of good and evil, of weal and woe, stand on the brink of the quagmire of relativism. This will not do.”

My hands tighten into fists as I remember what the world has become. Slavery, torture, corruption … I turn to Hermes, a god who travels across many worlds, including the Underworld. He is someone who truly understands the plight of souls and the harm that is being done.

“And that is why I will summon a true Hero.” I say slowly and deliberately.

“A hero!” exclaims Coyote.

“How?” questions Kumiho.

“They won’t allow it,” Anansi mutters to himself.

I sit silently, watching their incredulous expressions. Hermes stays silent, he already knows my plan. Laverna doesn't talk much anyways. I’ve already secured their cooperation, it’s the other three I must convince.

“Allow me to explain,” I say quickly before they try to leave. “Odin and Zeus have agreed to have a hero summoning at the same time.”

All eyes turn to me as I watch them silently sit back down.

There is no wonder that they are so afraid of summoning a hero. The most powerful gods, Zeus and Odin, leaders of Olympus and Asgard respectively, both rule with an iron fist. Neither god allows the summoning of heroes without their express permission.

Gods nurture heroes, and heroes nurture gods. As heroes grow, the gods they serve amass incredible power, potentially enough power to usurp the positions of current leading pantheons.

“Yes, Odin and Zeus have agreed to summon a hero each within the year. They have agreed not to disable each other’s portals … Fortunately for us, both gods plan to summon multiple heroes and not just one. This grants us an opportunity to sneak in an extra.”

Their facial expressions quickly widen. Understanding dawns upon them as they realize that both gods have lied to each other, attempting to screw the other over.

“It will be a war!” Anansi voices from his seat, fear showing on his face for the first time.

A war between the two great pantheons would result in untold chaos and destruction. Kingdoms would fall, innocents would die … and more importantly, some gods would cease to exist.

“Do not worry, Anansi, an open war will not happen. Neither Odin nor Zeus are willing to go to war. Their power would be weakened, as many of their most competent followers would lose their lives. Neither god will make a move in fear of being replaced in the aftermath.” I explain to the others. Anansi relaxed back down on his seat.

Anansi’s followers reside within the border between Olympus and Asgard. A war between these two pantheons may very well cause the extinction of his people … and his existence.

“Hehehehe, so you want to summon a hero with multiple avatars!” Coyote laughs, understanding. “You want us all to put our mark on one person before restrictions are met. Bold! I like the plan, but it will never work.”

“The flea-bitten mutt is right. The moment a hero is summoned, all of the gods will be notified and powerful assassins will be sent.” Kumiho says out loud, ignoring the sharp look and feral grin from Coyote.

Wolves and Foxes have never gotten along. They have warred so much in the past and old grudges are not easily forgotten … least of all by gods.

Nodding at the two as they trade death glares, I turn to Laverna, the most important person to my plan.

“Laverna here has a secret.” I point. “Her mark, the mark of thieves, has a unique interaction with summoned heroes. When placed upon them during the summoning, the gods of the world will not be notified. Nobody will know of our hero, and this will allow him the time to grow.”

All eyes turn to Laverna, including Kumiho’s. No one knew about her hidden ability. This is good, as that means no gods would ever consider an extra appearing.

“Him? You have a hero picked out already?” Anansi asks.

I nod. “Yes, many heroes will be summoned. Most of those heroes will be average at best, but the hero I plan to summon is significantly more capable than the trash they will get.”

I get up off my seat and start to walk around the table, eyes all on me.

“When summoning, the average summoner sets criteria, opens portals, and sucks up any souls that match that criteria. The souls can be from any world, with any background, but they will never truly be powerful. The most powerful heroes are those that you cannot forcibly summon,” I stop my stroll next to Hermes, looking at the confused expressions on their faces with glee.

The ability to travel from one world to another is a skill that only the most powerful and oldest gods have … a god like myself.

“I promise you this, the hero will be very capable, and his growth will be truly exceptional.” I look down at Hermes, gesturing for him to continue.

“Y-y-yes,” he squeaks/fidgets, grabbing a bag and putting it on the table.

With a trembling arm, he shoves his hand into the small bag, his hand sucked into a pocket dimension. Within a moment, Hermes grabs something and pulls it out.

The other gods gasp.

A clump of dark purple smog sits squarely upon Hermes’ hand, its ethereal light pulsing with enormous energy and potential. When a soul is summoned, a body must be created using the essence of a god. The stronger the god, the stronger the body, and thus, the stronger the hero.

I grab the clumped essence from Hermes’s outstretched hand, its potential pulsating within my grasp. “This is a core from the god Hades, dear brother to Zeus.”

Their eyes widen further in shock as they focus on the core in my hand, disbelieving that Hades, a god of the underworld and equivalent in      strength to      Zeus and Odin, would part with something so valuable.

I look at the five gods, scanning them from left to right. “Will you join me?” I ask, already knowing the answer.

Laverna nods silently, her reasoning unclear, but a favor that I will owe.

“I will join you.” Anansi calls out, knowing that without action his people might die.

“Same here.” Coyote calls out. Knowing him, he senses a trick, a trap, as is his nature. However, this opportunity to finally let his people thrive is far too enticing.

“I-I-I-I w-will join,” Hermes says with a stutter. He’s one of the few gods who understands that the world needs change, that the current status quo is toxic both to the gods themselves and its residents.

Kumiho looks to Laverna, her lover and one true friend, quickly getting a nod in return. The fox turns her head to me, tails flowing in the air in indecision. With a huff, she folds her arms. “Loki, what is in it for me? What do I get from this?”

‘I couldn’t have asked for a better cue.’

With a nod, I walk back to my seat, the ball of smoky energy still resting on the palm of my hand.

“The first thing that our hero will do is free your people from captivity, Kumiho.”

Her eyebrow lifts up. “Oh … and how is a newly summoned hero supposed to enter a place from which none have escaped?”

“Ahhh, Kumiho, you wound me! Plans have already been prepared. Trust me and all will be fine.”

Indecision blankets her face, torn between hope and logic. Painful memories resurface of promises made empty. The only reason she does not refuse is Laverna, her lover and the only person to save her in her time of need.

She bites her lip. “Loki, I will place my mark upon this hero of yours, but my blessing will only be given if my people are freed. I cannot risk giving what power I have for something I fear is but an empty promise.”

“That is acceptable.” I answer back, knowing that the mark alone is a sign of trust, something many gods would refuse to give freely without great compensation. The only reason the other gods have offered theirs is that they don’t see any other choice.

With a sigh, I lean back into my seat while smiling at the other gods. The hard part is complete. With a bit of will, the smog of energy disappears from my hand, replaced with five pre-written contracts on golden parchments. The papers fly out and stop directly in front of each god.

“A contract, so that you are bound by your promises and none will go against their word.”

“How did you know I would only give a mark?” Kumiho asks, flabbergasted, as she reads the premade contracts made for each god, contracts made far before this meeting.

I clasp my hands together, watching as the gods read, finding that each and every contract had been tailored specifically to them.

“I am a god of chaos. Parsing through the probabilities comes naturally to me. Prediction is important if one is to direct a world-destroying chaos. Believe in me, and this world will change.”

With one last look, the other gods send their own energy into the contract, tethering their soul to mine. Once the contracts were complete, the papers disappeared.

“Now then, I must prepare for the summoning.”

Without any gestures from me this time, the sound of reality breaking rang through the void. My soul shudders and five portals open once more behind the gods, punching through the walls of this reality with ease.

The gods stand and wave goodbye. They walk through the portals, four leave at once back to their homes. Laverna stops before her portal and turns to me.

She lifts up her hand, the whoopee cushion grasped in her small fingers.

“Mine.”

She walks through the portal.

‘… What?’

All of the gods have left. I pause for a second.

I raise my hand up. Snap.

The portals close. Silence reigns.

Once I’m finally certain that they’re gone, I smile viciously, shuddering with ecstasy. “Finally.”

My soul expands, ripping apart the asteroids around me. The chairs and table disintegrate instantly as my prison casually breaks around me.

“Hehehehehe,”

I hold my head in my hands, as though to hold in the giggles, to better savor the ending of an eternity.

“Hehehehehehehehe,”

I curl up as the laughter wracks my body and reality begins to fray.

“Muahahahahahahahhahahahahaha!”

The laugh grew uncontrollable, my mind barely holding together … Billions of years of agony … ‘I’m so close.’

“Oh father,” I shake with excitement.

“I will have my vengeance!”

“ON YOU! ON FREYA! ON EACH AND EVERY ONE OF MY NIECES AND NEPHEWS!”

The entire universe shuddered      as I flick my hand, the smog of energy shows up. The oh-     so-     great gift granted to me by Hades.

“WEAK.”

My soul casually ripped      the pathetic energy to smithereens.

With but the tiniest trickle of will, I mentally grab hold of the pieces and compress, pouring an overflowing amount of my own energy into smog     .

Within a minute, a completely black sphere twenty times my size floats around me, bending reality as I do.

“MUCH BETTER!” I shout into the darkness, watching my creation vibrate with sheer power.

“Now, onto the hero!”

The entire universe implodes, all that is becoming naught but fuel and feed.

CHAPTER TWO

“Sigh. Mr. Eludo … let me make sure that I wrote down your testimony correctly,” the man paused, looking over his papers again.

I nod back towards the man in a black business suit, awaiting his reiteration of my explanation …

“Your job is that of … Professional Summoned Hero?” asks the man. The other suited detective, ‘I think his name is Todd,’ stayed silent, glaring at me as though I had been the one wasting their time for the past several hours and not the other way around.

“Correct,” I reply.

‘When you think about it, naming a child Todd seems like something that a parent who was completely unprepared for a child would do. I mean really, how hard can it truly be to give a child some kind of awesome, epic name?’

“In this job you are summoned by gods to save people or destroy monsters and such. Correct?” he asks again.

“Yup.”

‘Like really, just go online and literally search up epic names and you’re going to get names like Beowulf or Asmodeus, something amazing that would make everyone remember you. Then in the future, your kid could tell people that his name is that of an epic historical hero or the name of a powerful demon lord.’

“And when your contract as a ‘hero’ is finished, the god sends you back to earth with barely any time having passed?”

I nod.

‘When you think about it, I’ve done many heroic things in my twenty-eight summonings from Earth.’

“When you return to Earth, they pay you by using their … godly power to,” he sighs, “create money and deposit it into your account. Is that correct?”

‘Can you imagine, kids being named after me because of my heroics? … No, that would kinda suck.’

“Um … Mr. Eludo?”

‘I wouldn't want so many people to be named after me. I mean, really, my name is unique.’

“Quasi Eludo?”

‘Yup, Quasi Eludo, a very impressive name if you ask me. Practically one of a kind. I think it means to win through trickery or something. I wonder if it’s possible to make it even better?’

“Sir?”

‘Yes, perfect! Maybe I could get knighted in England. Sir Quasi Eludo. I knew it. Sounds even more heroic. I wonder what it would take to be knighted by the queen? That would be pretty impressive. Maybe—’

“YOUNG MAN, STOP IGNORING US!” Todd yells out, startling his coworker sitting next to him.

‘Young man? I’m over nine thousand in mental years. Sure my body might only be that of a twenty-five-year-old sexy piece of meat, but I have a significant amount of life experience … life experiences? Lives experiences?’

“Todd, you don't need to yell. We’re in my living room.” I gesture expansively, showing my living room … and the many naked statues of myself in manly poses. “I can very clearly hear you from across the table,” I say, watching the big, black-suited man as he glares from the couch he is sitting on.

‘I have to admit, he has the, ‘I want to strangle you,’ look down pretty well.’

“My name isn't Todd, it’s Bob.” he growls.

‘Wait, his name is Bob?’

“Oh, you poor thing.” I blurt out.

‘Shit! Did I just say that out loud?’

“Errr … um … sorry about being distracted. I have this bad tendency to monologue internally.” I scratch the back of my ear, an annoying habit I gained from one of my summonings. “When you live so many lives, you end up getting bad habits later on in life. Placing my body on autopilot while my mind wanders is one of them. It … can get pretty bad, especially if I’m driving.

“For example, there was this one time I got on the freeway here in Chicago and found myself in Wisconsin several hours later.” I shift in my chair. “I left to get some groceries from a store a few miles away; next thing I knew, I was crossing the bridge to the UP. Very annoying experience, might I add.”

“But … it wasn't all bad though. There was this very cute girl at the convenience store. We chatted a bit … then I woke up in her bed.”

‘Wait! How the hell did I get into her bed? … Oh!’

“I think she may have drugged me.”

The two suited men stare back at me, flabbergasted and confused.

‘They seem to have that expression a lot.’

I blush. “Right … um … we were talking about Bob … no wait, it was about … money?”

Bob-Todd facepalmed and sighed deeply.

‘At least his friend seems fine … Crud, what was his friend's name? Ugh … names are annoying.’

“Yes, Mr. Eludo, this whole conversation and the reason for us being here is so that we can find out how exactly you are getting millions of dollars that didn’t exist beforehand,” suited man number two explains to me.

‘How many times must I explain it to them?’

“Look, I’ve told you the truth and nothing but the truth. It’s not my fault that the government is unprepared for dealing with the supernatural.”

Both men groan loudly, exhausted from dealing with the man before them.

When they were told to look into a young man who had been depositing excessively large amounts of money at random intervals, they thought it would be a simple job.

They initially figured the young man had an overseas account with a large financial backer who had been sending large sums of money.

Unfortunately, this youth refused to tell them even the most remotely believable of lies.

“Look, kid, all we want is the actual truth. None of these lies about magical beings and gods.”

Before I could answer, my soul vibrated, signaling the incoming of a powerful being.

‘Oh, thank god … literally and figuratively.’

I stand up from my cozy chair. “Alrighty,” I clap my hands, “as much as I would love to continue this conversation about how I gained my unfathomable amount of wealth and ineffably sexy body, I, unfortunately, do have plans for the night. So I must ask you both to leave.” I gesture toward the door.

The two detectives look at each other and nod, having talked to the young man for several hours already and gained no useful information. They quickly pack up and leave.

After I shut the door behind them, I walk back to my chair and sit down.

Not even a minute after they leave, I hear the screech of a wooden door opening. My head turns toward the closet, where an extremely handsome man in a red and black suit stood confidently in the now open doorway.

With perfect posture, he stepped forward, his shoes strike the wooden floor with purpose, a relaxed and confident smile on his face as he approaches.

He walks to the second lounge chair to my left and just drops into it without a word. Right leg crosses over left as his gloved hands find their place on his knee.

‘Ehhh … I would give that entrance a seven out of ten. He could have very easily gotten an eight if he hadn’t entered through a closet … this was the seventh time a god had chosen to use that specific closet …’

There is a long pause as neither the god nor I say anything. Neither were willing to make the first move. We continue to sit and stare, waiting and watching each other.

‘So that's how you want to play it.’

With a grunt, I position my elbow on the armrest, hand holding up my head as I take a calculating look at the man.

‘Confident, easygoing smile, relaxed and unmoving posture, eyes glinting with a certain amount of intelligence … but that smile. The cheeky, know-it-all, smile of a calculating god bursting with confidence … Heh, so you expect me to agree.’

“I accept.”

His eyebrow lifts up.

I mimic his smile. “I accept the job. When do I start?”

The muscles on his lips twitch.

‘I win!’

His smile widens further, showing his teeth as his calm eyes narrow. In those eyes I can see the hints of madness.

“Explain.” He commands authoritatively, not at all used to being read.

‘Ahhhh fuck. Of course, I have to get an insane god as my next employer.’

I sigh. “All heroes have one trait that allows them to become … well, heroes.” I pause, thinking about how to word this correctly.

“My own trait is that I have amazing intuition. I know and perceive things on an instinctual level. Thus, it becomes difficult to hide anything from me.”

I scratch the backside of my ear. “For example, I know that you have absolutely no experience in dealing with heroes and that I am your first. I bet that you had this long speech prepared to convince me to work for you, completely expecting me to accept.”

I fidget in my seat, his piercing gaze making me feel slightly uncomfortable.

“I, uh, figured it would be better to accept and save you some time.”

The god blinks, his smile widens further.

“Heh.” The god shakes his head. “Excellent … truly excellent. I must say, Mr. Elduo, you have already exceeded my expectations.”

‘Yay, I get to live!’

The god sits back in his chair, still smiling like a conniving sexual predator.

‘Yup, he’s definitely crazy.’

With a flourish of his hand, a golden contract appears above his palm, floating a few inches in the air.

“I was expecting the great Quasi, professional hero extraordinaire, to be something of a mercenary, but I am very much delighted that I was wrong. You have shown a bit more capability than that.”

The god flicks his hand. The contract flew through the air, stopping in front of me.

Picking it up, I start to read. This god used the template I put on my website! Nice.

‘Mhmmm, length of term is until death … reward is at least 10 million in American currency, blah blah bla—Destroy the world? What?’

“You need me to destroy the world?” I ask.

He nods. “I am a god of chaos. My role is to induce change. Unfortunately, the world Orbis has been stagnant for such a long time that drastic measures have become necessary.”

‘Crazy. Bonkers. Off his rocker. Certifiably insane!’

“So you want me to destroy the world so it can be saved … That's quite a tall order. What do I have to work with?”

“Unfortunately, I need you to be as ignorant as possible about the world. The only advice I can give is that you should not fear the mist.”

‘Oh boy … I am going to be summoned to a world I know nothing about …? Fuck.’

“Well, can you at least tell me your name?”

He shakes his head.

‘This just gets better and better …’ I sigh.

Giving up, I return to the contract before me and continue reading.

“A body will be provided in the image of the summoned …” I whisper.

‘Interesting, seems like humans are at least one of the species I might deal with. That makes it a lot easier.’

“The world is mana-rich …”

‘So time will travel significantly faster in the other world. Always good.’

“The summoning will be unorthodox …”

‘Never saw that before.’

Finishing up reading the contract, I press my hand on the paper and feel my soul shift. The contract glows and disappears as my soul connects to the god.

“Well then, Mr. Eludo, I bid you farewell. I must prepare your summoning, which should be within the week.”

The god lifts his hand and snaps

Reality bent in front of me. Like a pool of water converging, the god disappeared to wherever he needs to go.

I pause, a frown on my face as I stare at the spot the god had been sitting.

‘That fucker just stole my chair!’

CHAPTER THREE

Left, jingle. Right, jingle.

My feet, bloody and dirty, plod the ground in time with the sound.

Left, jingle. Right, jingle.

My eyes carefully roam the dirt, making sure that each step avoids sharp rocks and branches.

Left, jingle. Right, jingle.

The sound of chains rattling could be heard in rhythm to my step … ‘or are my steps to the rhythm of the sound?’

Left, jingle. Right, jingle.

My gaze rises from the forest floor and I look to my right. [Slaves], cuffed and collared, dressed in tattered clothing, trudge along beside me.

Left, jingle. Right, jingle.

The chains connecting them to one another chinked, a saddening reminder of what they are; of what they’ve been forced to become.

A [Slave] … one of the most common classes in the world; one of the most abused. The class is gained when you are treated like a thing for an extended period of time. A class many are born into … a class I have been lucky to not have been condemned. Not yet, at least.

Left, jingle. Right, jingle.

I turned my eyes away from the [Slaves], looking back down, only to be greeted by the sight of my bloody and bruised legs once more.

‘Maybe the class wouldn't have been so bad …’ I think, remembering the skills that [Slaves] gain useful skills as they level.

‘[Thick Skin] or [Pain Tolerance] would have been nice to have over the year.’

Yes, I have been a slave for only a little over a year, sold by my own monastery.

A monastery devoted to the Valkyrie Goddess Eir, a goddess of healing.

Tears form as I remember the [Mercenaries] bursting into my room and forcefully collaring me.

How they dragged me out of bed in only a nightgown …

My hands move to my neck, touching the enchanted collar still firmly wrapped around it.

Left, jingle. Right, jingle.

No chains are needed for this collar. The enchantments on it are more than enough to force my obedience.

Left, jingle. Right … Thump!

“Ah!”

I stop and quickly turn towards the sound, fearing maybe a monster or predator has ambushed us.

The [Slaves] have all stopped. Their eyes are focused on a young girl with cat ears and a long slender tail.

She’s a cat demihuman, one of the most common slave commodities. The catkin are stronger than humans physically and have far better senses. Unfortunately, they can’t channel enough mana to cast more than the most basic of spells so they are the lowest and cheapest of [Slaves].

The hooded figures who had been leading the procession quickly converge upon the fallen catgirl.

‘All of them are [Mages].’

The [Mage] class is common in the central continent, but extremely rare in the borderlands. It’s one of the most powerful and diverse classes, with many specializations at the higher levels.

One of the older [Mages], possibly also a [Slaver], looks up from the girl on the ground. His eyes roam until they meet mine.

“[Priestess]!” he yells, then points at the girl on the ground.

“Heal her!” he orders.

I nod and quickly rush towards the girl, fearing punishment should I take too long.

As I get to her, I find that her left leg is twisted upwards and not inline. ‘She didn't trip.’

The girl, maybe 14 years old, is only skin and bones. A gaunt face, dirty body, dried blood by her crotch … She had been thoroughly abused recently, then forced to march through the forest exhausted and hungry.

‘Well, [Slaves] are always hungry.’

Taking a deep, shaky breath, I get on my knees next to the young girl, slightly sickened by her misshapen leg.

“This is going to hurt, but I have to position your leg correctly,” I say to the girl as I place my hand on her leg.

She bites her lip and nods back silently.

‘She must have the [Pain Tolerance] skill to be so silent. Only a [Slave] of at least level twenty would have gained that skill from the world voice.’

With a small grunt, I straighten out her leg, only getting a whispered squeal in return.

Once the leg is positioned correctly, I place my hands on the injured section and concentrate on the mana coursing through my body.

“[Minor Heal]” I yell out, feeling my mana act at my call, flowing through my hand. I feel the activation of my other skill, [Blessing of Eir], which enhances my healing by two tiers.

The wound on the girl's leg slowly starts to mend itself, finishing in mere minutes instead of the hours it would have taken if I did not have a blessing.

The light fades from my hand as exhaustion strikes me.

With a sad smile, I stand up slowly, wobbling slightly.

The girl, curious, feels her leg, realizes the pain is gone. She looks up at me, a smile blooms on her lips. “Thank you,” she says, grateful for fixing her leg and stopping the pain.

Testing her leg, she stands back up to the amazement of the other [Slaves], who have never seen a true healer at work. ‘Probably used to getting cheap concoctions from herbalists. If that.’

“Good, you're healed. Now get back in line. I will give you your punishment tonight,” the hooded man states.

Without another word, he leaves, the other [Mages] following behind.

As one, the line of [Slaves] continues on toward whatever location the hooded [Mages] have planned. I stumble along with them, fighting exhaustion as it creeps through me.

**************

For many, the night is a time to forget about the hardships of the day. It’s a time to relax and let sleep take you. A time to escape from the perils of life.

‘Unless you are a [Slave].’ Jessica laments.

The light of the moon descends into the clearing, casting shadows that move with the breath of the wind as it ruffles through the trees. In the center of the clearing, three tents are pitched for the [Mages] to sleep in. The chains connected to the slaves are wrapped around the trees surrounding the camp.

Most [Slaves] shiver from the cold breeze of the night. Some are close enough to huddle together for warmth, their eyes filled with fear and hunger. Others have been fully broken, they gaze forward, unmoving, their eyes empty and faces unreadable.

As for me, I sit with my back against the lee of one of the trees, hug my knees against my chest, unable to fall asleep as I listen to the screams and cries of the unfortunate slaves taken into the warm tents.

Yes, from the tents I hear screams of pain as the masters slake their sadistic and sexual desires on the women they have taken for the night.

I turn my head, looking towards the largest tent, the source of the loudest shrieks. That is the leader's tent. The leader is a powerful old [Necromancer] who has surpassed level 100, a major milestone for a human since it means their life has more than doubled in span.

Two massive guards stand outside his tent. Wrapped in dark coverings and over eight feet in height, they stare silently into the night, unmoving like statues.

The only hint they are not statues is the muted glow from their eye sockets.

Menacing green lights flicker within the skeletal heads of the twin abominations, their bony exteriors hidden by thick cloth. Each clutches a rusted iron greatsword, ready to be used against beast or [Slave] alike.

With a shivering breath, I hug my legs tighter and bury my head against my this as I attempt once again to ignore the cries.

“Eir … give me strength.” I pray to my goddess, repeating the words I have been taught since I was young. Only after the cries die down is the reprieve of sleep granted to me.

**************

A week has passed. The feeling of … wrongness has increased every single day. The [Slaves] shiver from a vague sense of dread, and the younger [Mages] twitch with unease.

‘We are getting closer to our destination.’

Looking forward, I see a wall of gray fog. It looks merely odd at a first glance, but to those who know about the cloudbank, the oddity becomes a terror. The land is known as Vetiti Spiritus, a place where anything that enters will never return, a place where damned souls reside.

A place where even the gods refuse to tread.

‘Why are we here? This place only brings death. Do they plan to enter the fog? Are they mad?’

“Eir, protect me,” I whisper a silent prayer to my goddess, dearly hoping she is listening and will guide me through this hardship.

Within the hour, we are close enough to the fog that the feeling of unease has grown into mortal terror.

Wailing comes from the fog. Sinuous shadows of massive, flying serpents eddy and whirl with the moving mists, which curl and swirl as though restrained by some unseen barrier.

“Whaaaaaaaaaaa…”

The beastly wails reverberate not through the air, but through our souls, striking something deep and fundamental inside us. It’s a cry of unending hunger and pain, born from all the lives consumed by the great cloud.

Looking around, the other [Slaves] are just as uncomfortable as I am. They keep taking quick glances at the fog, terrified by the shapes moving within, and shiver and whine in fear.

Another hour passes and I glimpse an old stone structure between the trees, half sunk into the ground. The structure is old and degraded, the masonry cracked and in places tumbled down. Moss and vines cover the walls and roof, exploiting the cracked stone.

As we approach, the sepulchral building turns out, indeed, to be a sepulchre.

The mages herd us into a small clearing before the abandoned mausoleum.

The leader of the mages, a hunched old man, directs one undead forward. The monstrosity, carrying most of the [Mage]'s gear, unsheathes its sword and walks forward. With a strong powerful swing, the sword strikes the degraded door, ripping vines and old wood apart. Four more swings later and the entrance is finally clear.

The leader removes his hood and turns to the procession of thirty [Slaves], formerly forty a few weeks ago.

His face, wrinkled beyond belief, looks towards the other mages. His eyes blaze with hunger and anticipation.

“My students, the time of reckoning is upon us,” he says fervently, standing near the entrance.

The other [Mages] look to their leader, hanging on to his every word.

“For too long, we have hidden and run from the powers which hunt us. For too long, [Mages] such as us, who have devoted their lives to the dark arts, have been persecuted and shunned.”

He stops, eyeing the students before him, a manic smile blooming upon his visage.

“But we are not alone!” he continues. “For the Dark God Loki has sent revelation to me,” he spreads out his arms, “and has blessed me with a skill!”

The man’s palms burst into a green light, mana brimming with intense power.

“I have been given the skill … [Summon Hero]!”

Gasps resound throughout the [Mages], my own included.

“That's a legendary skill!”

“Who is Loki?”

“Why have you not told us this sooner?”

Questions upon questions are asked by the students, but I ignore them as I reminisce about the stories of [Heroes]. Tales of dragons hunted, evil destroyed, of lives saved. Stories that are told to every child. Stories of the saviors we believed in when we were young.

Legendary skills, the highest ranked skills, are so rare that only [Kings] and [Emperors] from ancient bloodlines can hope to have one.

‘Who is this god Loki and how can he give someone such a powerful legendary skill? Such a skill must cost an enormous amount of mana requiring many high level [Archmages] to cast and sustain.’

The leader nods at an older student, the same one who had ordered me to heal the slave a week prior … the same one who had ended the [Slave]'s life the same night.

The student flicks back his hood, revealing his scarred face, all the hair is missing from his head except for a few long strands.

He takes a step forward, looking at the exhausted [Slaves] as they stand, afraid and confused.

OBEY

The word slams into my mind but does not take hold, unlike those who have the [Slave] class.

The [Slaves] immediately freeze up. Their eyes turn a milky white as their will is overridden.

‘Not just a [Mage], but a high level [Slaver] as well?’

“Follow,” he commands, turning around and entering the building.

The [Slaves] soundlessly start walking in an orderly line after their master.

As the last [Slave] enters the building, the young [Mages] attempt to follow, but the old man stops them as he moves his body to block the entrance.

“Unfortunately, the concentration required for the summoning ceremony is too great. I must ask you all to stay outside and guard the entrance. I must not be interrupted at any cost.”

The [Mages] frown. They want to see history in the making, but they nod obediently, unwilling to offend their teacher and leader.

The old man grunts and turns his eyes towards me. I shiver at the sight of his face. One eye is completely blackened, the other is turning gray. His gaze … so unfeeling and disconnected.

“[Priestess], your services will be required inside.”

Without hesitation, I walk forward, past the old man, and into the building. Steps spiral downwards. Strengthening my resolve, I start to descend.

The footsteps of the elder and his two undead echo behind me.

*************

After several minutes of traveling ever downward, I find myself entering a massive marble chasm. In the center of the chasm is a flat, circular indentation that looks as though it was carved into the ground. The [Slaves] stand around the circle, completely naked, eyes downcast and devoid of any emotion.

The [Slaver]’s eyes turn to me.

“[Priestess], come forward and sit over there,” he points at a fallen marble pillar in a corner.

Nodding, I walk to the spot and sit on the cold marble. I suppress a shiver.

__

The leader finally enters, his old age slowing him down. The two undead follow behind him, their large mass creating a discernible sound with every heavy step.

“Father, the time is almost upon us,” the larger [Mage] says as he stands near the slaves. With a fluid motion, he pulls out a dagger from the sleeve of his robe.

“Yes, Beurnin, we should start preparing very soon. This spell Loki has given me costs an astronomical amount of mana,” the old man shakes his head, “I just wonder why we needed to use the spell here of all places, and why it needs to be done at such a specific time.”

Beurnin frowns. “The gods work in mysterious ways. Loki may know something we do not.”

He looks at his reflection in the polished metal of his knife. “Regardless, father, Loki has not steered us wrong thus far. He has helped you make many strides in your pursuit of power. I believe you are level 132 now. Forty levels is a rather impressive growth in merely a year.”

The elder grunts in acknowledgment, unable to refute his son’s logic. Reaching level one hundred and claiming the class [Necromancer], an upgrade to his [Dark Mage] class, was one of the best days of his life.

The elder reaches out his hand. “Staff.”

One of the undead immediately digs deep into a bag on its back and retrieves a long wooden stick with a jeweled skull on top.

It’s a powerful artifact that will greatly strengthen his control over his mana and make it possible to cast the spell.

“Prepare the blood.”

Beurnin twirls his knife then slits the throat of a [Slave]. Her blood pours quickly out of her neck, down her body, and onto the marble floor.

___

I swallow the bile rising from my stomach as I watch Beurnin systematically walk from [Slave] to [Slave], slitting their throats.

I stare, horrified at the casual ease with which they can take life away.

I try to stifle the flow of tears down my cheeks as I watch the slaughter, praying to Eir that their souls may find salvation in their next life.

Thirty-two bodies fall to the ground. Their blood flows into the circle, collecting into a grisly reflecting pool.

“It is ready, father,” Beurnin exclaims. He reaches into his robe and retrieves a clean rag.

With two swift movements of the rag, he wipes the blood off of his dagger and resheathes it somewhere within his robe.

“Let it begin.”

The elder steps forward toward the bloody pool, his hands clasped firmly around his staff. With a grunt, he lifts his staff and slams the bottom end into the blood.

“Activate,” he whispers

The staff head starts to glow. Mana seeps down from the skull and into the blood. The blood glows and starts to bubble, almost as though it were boiling. Vapor rises from the pool, quickly flowing into the skull. The blood gradually thickens, congeals, and dries.

Once all the blood has been dried, the elder picks up his staff and points the head forward.

He waits, eyes closed … one minute … two minutes … “[Summon Hero].”

My heart skips a beat as mana erupts from the skull, engulfing the room. With a quiet grunt from the old man, the mana converges back into the center. Green motes of mana start to spin, tracing out hundreds of complicated geometric patterns over the depression.

The location glows brighter and brighter untill it becomes so unbearably blinding that I must look away.

And just as quickly, the light vanishes. I look back to the center and blink until my sight recovers.

A man, standing about six feet in height with bulging muscles, stands there, wet and naked. He holds out his hands, silently flexing them. A smile forms on his lips as his eyes scan his surroundings.

“и∙ё┘≥┘╒ё┴∙┤,” He says something in a foreign language as he looks towards the elder.

The elder, leaning on his staff as a crutch, exhausted from the summoning ordeal, smiles in return.

“Hero… I, Mordus, loyal servant of Loki, welcome you to our realm.” The old man exhales, shivering in ecstasy.

“Hmmm… I see. Good.” the man flexes his body, getting a feel for his muscles.

“It seems the summoning has been successful,” the man says, flexing his right hand. “You have performed admirably.” The man takes a step towards the elder and stretches out his right hand.

“Grab my hand. Loki has prepared a reward that he asked me to give you.”

Mordus, realizing the implications, wheezes as he stumbles towards the man, eyes filled with glee and expectation.

“Father, don’t. Something feels wrong!” Beurnin exclaims, watching the scene unfold.

Unfortunately, Mordus does not heed his son's words and extends his hand towards the naked man. The man grabs Mordus’s hand … and then yanks Mordus into him while also raising his knee at an incredible speed.

The knee connects with Mordus’s face with a shattering crunch! Without breaking his fluid movement, the man rips the staff from the elder's hand with his other hand, cocks his arm back, and hurls the staff, bottom forwards.

The staff rips through the air and penetrates Beurnin’s neck, disrupting the spell the man was preparing to cast.

With a short gurgle, Beurnin falls to the ground, dead.

My eyes are wide and my heart beats wildly.

‘What … What just happened?’

The man, still naked, turns to face me.

He raises his hand to his head and flicks back his shoulder-length black hair. He flexes all of his muscles, gracing me with a toothy smile.

“Why, hello there,” the words come out of his mouth.

I faint.

CHAPTER FOUR

Cooking is an art that transcends all realities. No matter the species or the world, a man’s gotta eat, and if you’re going to be doing something often, you’ll want to make it as enjoyable or as easy as possible. Thus, cooking in some form or another tends to show up anywhere people have more than two brain cells. Then, sometimes, when a person has a true appreciation for the act of eating, it may develop into its truest form: an art.

Before me are two pans. In one pan, I have sizzling diced veggies and meats, all absolutely smothered in butter. Caramelized onions, al dente sweet peppers, cubed ham with just a hint of crisp on each side, basil sauteed just shy wilting, oregano, red pepper, and garlic, all soaking and sweating in the pan until their flavors diffuse and infuse into the clarified butter. While most of the ingredients in the pan are healthy, with the amount of butter added, one can only wonder whether or not a heart attack is in my future.

On my other pan is a world favorite, a staple of food in every culture; the majestic chicken egg. Yes, the egg, an unborn child of T-rex’s descendant, is being scrambled, spiced, and subjected to the frying of the pan, waiting to be transported to a plate.

With a practiced hand movement, I grab the pan of sizzling veggies and meat and tilt it over the second pan, pouring them into the middle of the sizzling eggs … but I don’t stop there. My hand flicks out again, grabs cheese and quickly sprinkles it over the egg, making sure to evenly distribute it or risk ruining the entire dish.

And now, the hard part. Most people would just fold the eggs to one side, but I am an artist. I would never allow myself to settle for a subpar meal. My creation must have style.

Taking up smaller utensils, I slowly start to fold the egg over itself, but not too slowly, or I risk overcooking the eggs, which would be just as bad. My hands steady, my mind focused, my eyes on target; I fold lightly, perfectly, not allowing even the slightest twitch of my fingers. All of my training and thousands of years of experience being put to the test to break this morning’s fast.

I breathe in slowly and let out half a breath.

‘And fo—’

RRRRIIIIINNNNNGGGGG

My hand twitches, the tweezers rip through the egg, destroying my hard work and ruining … Everything.

RRRRIIIINNNNGGGGG

I slowly turn my head to look at the source of the disturbance.

With a sigh, I grab my phone and bring it up to my ear.

“Franky, I don't feel like talking right now,” I tell my dear friend, tears in my eyes.

“… Quasi, are you crying again?”

My silence tells Franky everything he needs to know. He sighs.

“How is it that the smartest person I know is also an idi—” Franky coughs. “A cooking perfectionist? Like, really, do you have to make all of your food into art pieces?”

A tear trickles down my cheek.

“Yes.”

Franky sighs again. “So, what were you making today?”

I sniff. “I, uh, was making an omelette … and I poked a hole through the eggs when I was folding it.”

“Really now, you poked a hole through the eggs? How the hell do you poke a hole through eggs? Aren't you using a spatula?”

I don’t respond, too overcome with grief. My omelette …

“Well,” Franky continues, “knowing you, you’d probably use something like nose tweezers or something even more stupid.”

I choke, my eyes turn towards my hand … still holding the tweezers …

“Um …”

“Don't answer that. I don't want to know. Just calling to tell you that we have an advanced engineering exam today.”

‘Today? No, it should be a few days from now.’

“You mean Friday, right Franky?”

“Nope, our dear old professor pushed up the exam a few days because his daughter is getting married or something like that. So yeah, people are pissed, but we can't do too much anyhow. I know you don't even come to class except for exams. I’ve said it before but I still find it amazing that despite blowing off every class you can, you still get perfect scores.”

‘Ugh … I don’t want to go to school. Today was supposed to be ‘relax and polish my sexy statues’ day.’

I sigh. “Well Franky, I guess I guess I gotta go to school today. Thanks for calling me and telling me about it. Need a ride?”

“Nah, I’m already here, studying my ass off. If you do decide to come early, though, I would really love another tutoring session from you.”

I smile. Franky’s a genuinely good guy. He is the type of person who would fight a pack of wild wolves to save a helpless kitten. Truly, a selfless hero … easily the best possible candidate for a hero summon should any god ever feel the whim.

I quickly end that line of thought. Best not to jinx my best friend.

“Okay, Franky, let me take a quick shower and I'll drive up to school.”

“Thanks, Quasi, I really appreciate it.”

I smile at his sincerity, “I wouldn't help you otherwise. Anyways, I have to clean up this mess and take a shower. I'll call you at school.”

“Really, you’re the best. Thank you.”

“Yes, yes, I know I’m great. Bye.”

I hang up the phone and start to clean up the mess in the kitchen.

‘I should hire a maid … a cute maid … naked … with an apron.’ My mind wanders, thinking about the possibilities. ‘Or better yet, I can get a whole bunch of them! And then I can have them polish my statutes as I watch!’

I nod, smiling as I finish putting everything into the dishwasher and turn it on. From there, I head towards the bathroom.

‘I wonder how much it would cost for a dozen maids?’

I enter my bathroom. Honestly, it’s a bit big, but I had to get a jacuzzi. I quickly undress and throw my clothing into a laundry basket.

‘I could have them do laundry too …’

I enter the shower and turn on the tap, sighing as the hot water runs over my head. Reaching up, I remove my elastic hair tie from my ponytail and let my long hair fan out across my shoulders.

‘If I pay enough, I could have them clean me in the shower too!’

A perverted smile bloomed on my face only to quickly be replaced by a frown.

‘Really? This is the worst possible time!’

My soul rings, responding to a call from the void. Wisps of formless energy start to flow around me. Time slows down as my mind and body resonate with the new world. The droplets of water slow and stop. A quick flash and reality bends around me.

______

Looking around, I see nothing. My optic nerve flashes meaningless colors to my brain. I’m engulfed in pure darkness, a limbo before the summoning happens. From that darkness, a man appears with a smile.

“Aaaahhh, Quasi.” He looks me up and down, a smug smile on his face. “Unfortunately, restrictions keep me from creating clothes for you.” He shakes his head while he raises his arms and shoulders in an exaggerated shrug.

I scratch the side of my head. Being ogled while naked by an ancient and powerful god is not something I’m used to. I have been ogled by a surprising number of other people though.

“Ok … so … how is this summoning going to work? Will I be using my own body or what?”

Summonings can happen in a wide variety of different ways. Some gods will just take your soul and create a new body or put you into someone else's body. Others will utilize reincarnation, allowing you to actually be born naturally into the world.

The god shakes his head once more and extends his hand. From his palm, a glowing purple ball of light emerges, quickly expanding to the size of a watermelon. “Unfortunately, your body would be much too weak for the world to which I am summoning you. Thus, a new one will be provided.”

The ball of energy stretches and twists into a humanoid shape. Second by second, it molds ever more human features.

Within a minute—or some indeterminable amount of time—the purple glow fades and a replica of my body floats before me, exact to the last excruciating detail.

The god's other hand rises up, five balls of different colors circle it.

He flicks them one by one towards the body.

The first ball strikes the left shoulder and a black spider tattoo forms where it landed. The second flies towards the right shoulder, forming a black prairie wolf tattoo. The third ball splits into two and flies toward each calf, each one turning into two black feathers. The fourth ball strikes the upper back and leaves behind a black circle. The final ball tramp stamps the lower back with a detailed image of a fox. Unlike the others, this image is gray instead of black.

‘Interesting. I wonder if those tattoos mean something significant? Who am I kidding, of course they do.’

Before I can ask, Loki teleports right in front of me.

“The time has come. Adapt quickly or die.” His hand flies out and stabs into my chest. Incredible pain rips through my body as the god grasps my soul and yanks it from my body.

Just as quickly as the pain had come, it disappears as I find myself in my new body.

‘At least I think it's my new body …’

‘Actually, this may still be my body since I can still feel the water frozen in place on my skin …’

‘The feeling isn't painful per sebut when you can feel every freaking droplet of water as though they were mosquitos oh-so gently tickling you …’

‘Softly caressing your skin, making sure that every tiny foot oh so gracefully touches a most sensitive neuron …’

‘Then picking the most sensitive one and sliding in their proboscis …’

‘I’M GOING TO RIP THAT GOD’S FUCKING FACE OFF FOR THIS!’

My index finger trembles.

‘GAHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!’

It continues to slowly move while my middle finger joins in.

‘Must … flip off … god …’

Loki places his gloved hand on his chin. “Only a few moments after the fusion and your soul is already claiming your new body. You continue to surpass my expectations.”

His hands go to his hips as he shakes his head. “And here I was, all worried about your soul being ripped apart in the most gruesome way possible if the fusion were to fail.”

I try to clench my hand. Not quite there yet, but getting closer. Not much further …

He nods to himself. “Well then, since I can see that you will be fine, let's continue the summoning process!” He took one last look at me and raised his hand.

“Have fun, [Hero].”

He snaps his fingers.

Reality bends and reels, and once again I plummet further into oblivion. There's a sudden flash of light and … what?

Clouds float over me. A gentle wind caresses my wet skin. All around me I see clouds and light. I hang there, weightless.

I try to clench my hand once more but to no avail.

‘Yup, still can't move.’

My eyes begin to feel a little dry. I try to blink, but not even that succeeds.

‘Urgh … not even my eyes work properly.’

Sighing, I close up my mind and ignore the sounds and sights around me, focusing upon my soul. It’s a rather powerful ability I had learned on my 17th summon. Those centipedes knew some crazy shit.

My mind slowed down as the world around me faded to black. I focused on visualising  my soul as a ball of celestial energy caged within the confines of a mortal body.

Ding! A noise interrupts my meditation and a giant, floating blue box appeared.

WELCOME HERO!

YOUR EPIC WILL SOON BEGIN.

PLEASE WAIT A MOMENT WHILE YOU ARE FULLY SCANNED.

‘… What?’

SCANNING….

A feeling of power pushed against the barrier protecting my soul, fruitlessly attempting to overpower my shields that had been so thoroughly molded by an elder god, the first god I had ever worked for. It felt weird as hell.

Error, scan cannot complete.

Activating advanced scan procedure.

‘Um …’

Whips of shining energy appeared in front of me. I might have considered them pretty, with their spiraling patterns that coiled and uncoiled, except that they were attacking my soul. They slammed into my barrier, ricocheting off with extreme power. My soul vibrated as each impact hit like a pinata getting smashed by a baseball bat. These guys aren’t messing around.

Even so, I feel a smug sense of pride, enjoying the futile attempt of … whatever this thing is as it attempted to gain access to my soul.

Error, second attempt failed.

Searching for possible solution …

Solution impossible.

Notifying Administrator SAS11 …

Ever had that feeling of finding yourself in the presence of something that is so absurd, your first reaction is outright fear because you just can't get your head around it?

A giant freaking eyeball popped into being, dwarfing me a thousand times over.

It just floated there, staring at me with … what do giant eyes feel anyway?

ADMINISTRATOR SAS11 HAS BEEN ACTIVATED.

The eye focused on me … and blinked.

INTERESTING.

‘Uh … oh crap.’

Soul energy rippled from the giant eye and rammed into my barrier, ripping it apart like a fat guy on a pizza.

My soul is engulfed as a foreign energy molests me from the inside. I feel helpless. I hate it.

‘My virgin soul, forever tainted by a giant floating eyeball. Thanks, whatever god you were. I blame you for this.’

The eye blinks again.

Hmmm, I see. I must admit, Quasi Eludo, this is a truly unique situation you have found yourself in.

“Don't freakin’ read my mind!” I yell out, not at all happy to have my deepest, darkest thoughts known to a giant eyeball.

‘Oh shit, I can move.’ I think, realizing that I have full control over my body again.

Your body and soul were in a state of flux, slowly fusing together.

Considering that your summoning will begin very soon, I took it upon myself to speed up the process.

I blink, staring at the wall of text before me, floating a foot before my face, following my eyes wherever they looked.

Completely forgetting the fact that a giant eyeball just soul raped me, I move my hand forward to touch the screen, but it passes through.

Closing one eye, the screen adjusts to my open one.

‘Oh, that's pretty cool.’

As much as I enjoy watching you play with the soul interface, you, unfortunately, have a summoning to complete.

‘Unfortunately?’

My head turns back to the giant rapist eye, incapable of discerning any features because of the floating blue screen in my way.

The soul interface, what you are referring to as a blue screen, is an important aspect of life in Orbis. It has many functions and is actually quite similar to earth's concepts of virtual reality role-playing games.

Taking a deep breath of the cool misty air, I forcibly calm myself down, hoping that the giant rapeball hadn't done anything to mess with my soul.

Do not worry, my programming does not allow me to modify your soul beyond the interface installation.

“Programming …? Oh crap, you’re a synthetic soul,” I say, shocked.

‘Isn't the creation of synthetic souls illegal?’

You are correct. Since the 8730th god games which heralded the synthetic soul wars, all newly made synthetic souls are illegal and must be immediately eliminated.

Nodding, I remember a few older gods speaking to me of a massive war that had happened before they came to be. It was a war that involved gods born of synthetic souls wanting to rip universes apart.

‘If rapeball is a synthetic soul and has not been destroyed, then—’

“You are extremely old.”

The eyeball blinks.

I am far older than any god you have ever dealt with.

‘Older than—shit. No wonder he so easily ripped apart my barrier … speaking of barriers …’

“I don't suppose you can fix that barrier you destroyed? I kinda need it for protection.”

Unfortunately, a soul barrier would make it difficult for you to interact with the world system. You must remain without for as long as you remain on Orbis. But do not fret, for the gods who reside on Orbis are restricted from forcing their will upon mortals.

When you leave Orbis, I will personally recreate that barrier for you.

Now then, Quasi Eludo, I have delved into your mind and have found no knowledge of the world you are going to. This ignorance grants you the [Hero] class and all of the benefits that come with it.

And with that, I will have the automatic system continue the summoning process. Goodbye.

Before I could react, the giant eye disappeared and a new screen popped up in front of me.

Name

Quasi Eludo

Sex

Male

Age

Body: 25 | Mental: 9243 Earth Years

‘Holy crap, is that my exact mental age? Damn, I’ll have to remember that number in case anyone asks.’

Scanning Physical Attributes …

‘Attributes?’

Strength

23

Ability To Exert Physical Force.

Dexterity

36

Physical Flexibility And Coordination

Stamina

32

Ability To Withstand

Perception

235

Ability To Observe Within Range Of Senses

Endurance

14

Ability To Withstand Forces

Vitality

213

Maximum Life Expectancy.

Mana Quantity

420

Maximum Quantity Of Magical Energy That Can Safely Be Stored Within The Body

Mana Regen

2.3/s

Speed At Which The Body Gathers Mana

Affinity

13 Found

Ability to Better Utilize Specific Types of Mana

‘This explains things … I think. Why is my endurance so low?’

Scanning Mental Attributes …

Intelligence

432

Ability to Learn and Problem Solve using prior knowledge.

Willpower

3047

Ability to Withstand and Utilize Mental Effects.

Soul

4143

Quantitative Strength of a Person's Spiritual Ability

‘Virtual reality role-playing game, eh? Yup, it’s an RPG. Someone built a world as an RPG. This should be … new, if nothing else.’

Adding Legendary Class [Hero]

HERO CLASS AWARDED.

You are now a Level 1 [Hero].

Perks Obtained: 3

[Multi Classer]: Leveling up to additional classes does not limit experience gain. Number of classes exempt from the experience penalty increases with the [Hero]’s level. Currently available class slots: 0 of 2.

[Hero Interface]: As a Hero, you have access to the World Interface regardless of your location.

[Language Acquisition]: As a foreign entity summoned to Orbis, you can automatically understand and speak any common language after hearing a sample.

ActivatingSummoning Procedure …

Moments after I read the last interface message, my body started to disintegrate and my vision quickly blurred.

*******************

Blood … It’s that metallic scent I first notice as I regain control of my body. What follows is the feeling of cold air as it brushes my wet and naked skin. Finally, my eyes open, and I look at my surroundings.

‘Unorthodox … How the fuck can someone call this just ‘unorthodox’ with a straight face? Oh yeah, he didn’t. This is the weirdest fucking summoning I’ve ever done … second weirdest … okay, third, but that second one was pretty kinky.’

Even with my internal surprise, my body stayed relaxed, my expression calm. I slowly observe my surroundings so as not to alarm anyone who might be watching. Long learned reflexes instinctively take hold as I face a new and unexpected situation.

‘I seem to be in some kind of underground cavern.’

My eyes roam around.

‘Okay … a bunch of anorexic people, dead on the floor, drained of blood. Probably some kind of blood magic. Given the number of bodies, I can guess that it was some powerful magic.’

I crack my neck, doing my best to look uninterested while my eyes continue to roam.

A very skinny woman is sitting on a large chunk of marble from a toppled pillar to my left. She watches with what appears to be apprehension.

‘She’d have a pretty nice figure if she just ate more. Wait, no. Focus, Quasi. You can ogle her later.’

In front of me stands an ancient old man wearing a cloak. The man is panting hard, his hands tightly gripping the staff in his hand that he uses to keep himself from falling over. His wrinkly face glows with an ecstatic smile of accomplishment.

‘I can’t tell if he’s exhausted or trying to hide a boner … and that smile is borderline pervy, unlike the third person on my right.’

The scarred, practically bald man covered in a black cloak glared at me warily.

‘Good instincts … but you haven't attacked yet, so they’re not that good.’

I smile slowly, making sure to not make any hostile movements or gestures.

Slowly, I extend my hand and form a fist, clenching and unclenching my hand as I get a feel for my new body. I tilt my head and focus my eyes on my hand to sell the action.

“Interesting.”

‘My strength is more than twice that of my normal body. Movement is extremely fluid. My body seems to be slightly heavier. My senses seem to have been refined … I can work with this.’

My eyes travel and look directly at the old man.

‘I am going to guess that you're my summoner and the massive undead skeletons behind you are your minions … Right, looks like you're dying first.’

The old man returns my smile with his own, albeit slightly less perverted this time.

“Hero … I, Mordus, loyal servant of Loki, welcome you to our realm.” he exclaims, breathing between his words.

[Orbis: Common] language obtained.

‘Oh … That's going to be annoying.’

I look at the floating blue box that so unexpectedly blocked my vision.

‘Do I just, like … will it to go away?’

The screen fades out of existence in answer to my thoughts.

‘That was pretty easy … now then, who the fuck is Loki? Is that the god I made a deal with? Loki sounds like that Norse god from Earth … I need to brush up on mythology.’

“Hmmm … I see. Good.” I reply, testing the foreign language I had learned within seconds.

‘Gotta love magic.’

I stretch my body, moving in place as I prepared to end their lives.

Normally I don't resort to homicide over people getting killed. I can usually ignore dead bodies. Massacres happen all the time. Hell, I've even done a few myself during some of my summons. But I'm still human, and thus, I can be swayed by my emotions.

My eyes flicker over the dead and focus on the corpse of a four-year-old child covered in bruises and dried blood.

A memory of another life … of another world … of my own children, slaughtered mercilessly, all for the sake of some petty revenge.

Sadness for a life lost.

Guilt for not being able to protect them.

Anger towards those who take life for granted.

My mind whips back to the present, not even a moment passed. I don a respectful smile.

“It seems the summoning has been successful,” I say to the old man. “You have performed admirably.”

I take a few careful testing steps towards the old man, ignoring the cautious glare from Baldy. As I get within a few feet of him I reach out my right hand as though to shake his, a happy smile on my face.

“Grab my hand. Loki has prepared a reward that he asked me to give you.”

The old man, wheezing uncontrollably, holds onto his staff tightly as he raises it and uses it as a crutch. He trembled as he moves, determined to take my hand despite how his body protests. A mad desire gleams in his eyes.

He takes short steps towards me, staff clanking hard on the marble floor.

“Father, don’t. Something feels wrong!” the other man exclaims, his intuition warning him that I am dangerous.

‘And he would be right.’

The old man ignores his son. He reaches out and grabs my hand, his other hand still holding the staff.

I hold the man’s hand in a firm grip, then I squeeze as hard as I can. The bones in the old man’s hand crush easily under the pressure of my newly enhanced strength.

‘Oh, thank goodness. I was worried your body was going to be extremely resilient. This should be easy then.’

In the space of a heartbeat, I pull the old man toward myself. He starts to tumble over. At the same time, I raise my knee with superhuman speed, smashing it into the old man's face, making a very audible cracking noise. A lesson learned long ago: You don’t hit the face, you hit through the face.

I feel cartilage, then bone, break and give as my knee fractures his skull.

‘One down, another to go.’

While I struck, the son was not idle. He reacted as soon as I started pulling the old man towards me and began doing … something. Since they seem to be magic casters of some kind, I assume it’s some kind of spell.

Without breaking my stride, my other hand rips the staff from the old man's other hand.

I face the bald wizard. While I’m certainly not ambidextrous, I’ve learned how to wield most weapons with both hands. Bottom end forward, I cock my arm back and hurl the staff. Before the old man's body touches the floor, my makeshift javelin had flown  through the air and pierced through the other man's throat, stopping him before he could finish doing whatever he was doing.

I quickly turn my body towards the two massive undead. I take a defensive stance. I have no idea what abilities they have or how hard it will be to defeat them.

However, it seems my fear is unwarranted. The two massive undead stand unmoving, the light from within their eye sockets extinguished with their master dead.

Taking a calming breath, I look away from the skeletal statues towards the sole living being remaining, other than myself.

‘Long blond hair, tanned white skin, blue eyes … if she wasn't anorexic, she’d be gorgeous.’

With a practiced smile, I turn my body towards her, hand flicking my hair back as I allow my eyes to roam her nonexistent curves.

‘Yup, she needs to eat more.’

“Why, hello there.”

Her eyes widen for a moment before her eyelids fluttered shut and she fell to the ground.

“… Well, I am known for having that effect on women,” I say aloud after I see her chest rising and falling.

‘… I'm just gonna let her sleep.’

My eyes move towards the entrance to the hall. There were stairs leading up.

“There are probably people upstairs. I'll have to deal with them soon but first … STATUS!”

Nothing happens.

‘I was hoping that would work …’

“So … do I just thi-”

You have slain Mordus of House Kizor.

Level up x 17

Achievement obtained for slaying someone ten times your level.

Determining rewards …

New skill obtained: [Silent Casting]

[Silent Casting] (Rare)

While others must yell out a skill or spell to activate its effects, you may merely think of its activation without having to say anything.

Achievement obtained for slaying someone one hundred times your level.

Determining rewards …

New skill obtained: [Motionless Casting]

[Motionless Casting] [Legendary]

Many people rely on gestures to cast a spell. You have surpassed them and can use spells without relying on such things.

‘This is rather informative. Skills normally require voice and motion activation … which means my cast time is pretty much nonexistent now … and this world has achievements … Let's continue.’

You have slain Beurnim of House Kizor.

Level up x 2

‘… That's it?’

Hidden Quest, {Destroy House Kizor}, completed.

Millennia ago, House Kizor was home to some of the most powerful and influential mages ever known in Orbis. Their mages, known for having high affinities for various elements as well as having members exceeding level 300, had found themselves hungering for more power.

Unfortunately, House Kizor turned to forbidden magics to enhance their already impressive spellcasting. Such spells worked for a time, but mistakes occasionally happen.

Alakath Kizor, a powerful member of the house, attempted to open a portal to the demon realm in order to bind an archdemon for power. The mage succeeded but found himself staring at a [Demon Hellfire Overlord] instead. The demon easily broke free of his bindings and used his tremendous magical power to open a permanent portal to his realm. He then proceeded to use said portal to summon his army.

What followed were the Orbis demon wars which lead to the slaughter of countless gods, the destruction of multiple nations, the killing of over 29 heroes, and the genocide of several races. Only through a temporary unification of world powers was the [Demon Hellfire Overlord] and his legions finally pushed back and the portal closed.

During the war, the remaining gods placed a death bounty upon all members of House Kizor, rewarding their deaths with various system benefits.

Unfortunately, House Kizor has had many members living across the world, making it difficult to hunt them down to the last.

Over a thousand years later, House Kizor had been all but forgotten for the death and destruction their house had brought unto the world … until today.

Searching for quest rewards …

Reward found …

Administering class rank up …

Ranking up class [Hero] …

Error.

Reattempting …

Error. Source: Cannot rank up class [Hero]. [Hero] class is already at its maximum rank.

Searching for secondary class …

No secondary class found.

Error. Source: No other rewards available.

Searching for possible solution …

No solution found.

Notifying Administrator SAS11 …

‘Fucking, really?’

ADMINISTRATOR SAS11 HAS BEEN ACTIVATED.

I sigh. “Not this again …”

The world froze around me. Dust particles stopped moving, air stopped blowing, and sound vanished from the world.

I turn around. In the center of the chamber the familiar giant eyeball floated in all its eldritch, Lovecraftian glory.

“Rapeball, buddy, how have you been? Enjoy your nap?”

The eyeball blinked and focused on me.

Quasi Eludo, I find it rather intriguing that it took you less than five minutes in this world to cause problems with the System … again.

I raise my hand and flick my hair back. “When you’re as amazing as I am, not even the world can handle your awesomeness.” I say with a smile.

The eyeball just blinks and continues to stare at me.

Disregarding your pathetic display of an overinflated ego, the problem lies in the fact that you have the [Hero] class which cannot be upgraded and do not yet have any others.

Thus, in order to satisfy the reward conditions, and do not expect this to happen again, I will award you an upgraded second-tier class of your choosing.

Now choose wisely.

‘I just got dissed and ignored by a floating eyeball … now how I am supposed to choose a class from a system that I know nothing about … um …’

“Overlord!”

That is a tier three class. Choose another.

‘… Shit…’

“Dragon Knight?”

That is also a Tier 3 class. Choose another.

‘Stupid floating eyeball!’

I search my surroundings, seeking inspiration, until my eyes halt upon the two towering undead. A smile crosses my lips.

“Necromancer,” I say cooly.

That class is acceptable.

Administrator SAS11 has removed quest [Destroy House Kizor] from entity Quasi Eludo.

[Necromancer] class has been added to entity Quasi Eludo.

Error. Source: [Hero] class is not compatible with class [Necromancer].

SAS11 Administrator privileges activated, [Hero] class restrictions have been disabled.

It is done.

The floating eyeball disappeared and the world returned to normal.

‘So he stopped time … Only a small number of gods can do that.’

“Welp … Whatever. I have a new class now,” I say out loud, smiling at my new [Spells].

Congratulations, you are now a level 1 [Necromancer].

No Attribute Bonuses Applied

Two new skills obtained:

-[Raise Undead]

-[Death Sense]

[Raise Undead] (Common)

Target a corpse and turn it into an undead that will do your bidding. The undead’s level is based on the level and quality of the corpse used. Mana cost scales with corpse’s level and caster’s soul strength.

[Death Sense] (Uncommon)

You can sense corpses in a radius based upon the strength of your soul, whether they be undead or not.

“Holy shit!” I shout. The new sense is almost overwhelming. I could sense dead bodies up to a couple of miles away. It’s extremely disorienting.

Taking a deep breath, I focus on the new sense and relax. After a moment, I learn how to control the skill and restrict its range to cover only the sanctum I stand in.

I could sense the weak dead bodies of those sacrificed, the high-level bodies of the two mages I had killed, and the all dwarfing presence of the two massive skeletons standing motionless. A sense of understanding tugs at me. A minute knowledge of corpses is added to my memory, exponentially increasing from my own already significant knowledge.

Your deep understanding of the body has formed a new skill.

New skill obtained: [Corpse Analyze].

‘Really?’

[Corpse Analyze] (Uncommon)

Your impeccable understanding of anatomy and physiology helps you better examine dead bodies.

‘I get a skill just because I learned how to do surgery in another life? Hmmm. So knowledge can be used to gain skills. Nice.’

I look at the skeleton and smile confidently.

‘[Corpse Analyze]’

With that thought, a screen appears before me.

[Skeleton Bruiser] Lvl 87

Created by the [Necromancer] Mordus Kizor. Pieced together from the bones of several [Warriors] and [Soldiers], it has inherited much of the prowess of its progenitors. Also gifted with preternatural resistance from its dense bone plating, this undead is a formidable foe to anyone below its level.

‘Well, looks like I got myself some bodyguards.’

I hold up my hand, a smile on my face. My palm opens up. “[Raise Undead],” I say out loud, even though I don’t need to.

Mana surged forth from my body, a type of purple smog that quickly engulfed the undead, entering it and roiling around. The skeleton’s head began to glow a soft purple light.

Skeleton Bruiser is several levels higher than you. Mana cost and Soul strength requirement increased.

Mana has decreased by 340.

Test of will activated: 3047 Willpower VS 227 Willpower

Test of Wills successful.

Soul has decreased by 42. Currently 4143(4101)

Skeleton Bruiser Is now under your control. Mana regen decreased by .2 seconds.

A mental connection forms with the bruiser, allowing me to feel his location. The skeleton stood still , eyes glowing, acting like an intimidating lamppost.

“Damn. I was not expecting such a huge mana cost … I guess I should have … Well, whatever, it worked out.” I shrug my shoulders and mentally order my new undead to wave its arm. Reacting to my thoughts, the undead followed my instructions.

Nodding, I turn and contemplated my fresh skills while I wait for my mana to regenerate.

“[Corpse Analyze], [Corpse Analyze].”

Mordus Kizor Level 127 [Necromancer]

Formerly an old, high leveled [Dark Mage], Mordus was recently contacted by a god named Loki, who guided him into obtaining the [Necromancer] class and to find various powerful items that had been thought to be lost.

Unfortunately for him, his life and rise to power were cut short by a knee to the face.

Strength

4

Dexterity

5

Stamina

(9)7

Perception

42(12) - Partial Blindness

Endurance

4

Vitality

65(63)

Mana

1342(1142)

M/regen

2.16(.7)

Affinity

4

Intelligence

83(73)

Willpower

372

Soul

263

Items Equipped: Robe of the Undead Caller, Ring of House Kizor, Ring of Enhanced Mana Regeneration, Necklace of Rejuvenation

Robe of the Undead Caller (Rare): Halves all mana regeneration costs for undead upkeep.

Ring of House Kizor (Rare): +0.1 Mana regen, +200 mana, +2 Vitality, +2 Stamina, +10 Intelligence.

Ring of Enhanced Mana Regeneration (Legendary): Mana Regeneration +20%, +1 Mana regen.

Necklace of Rejuvenation (Rare): Applies passive buff [Minor Regeneration].

Beurnim Kizor Lvl 89 [Dark Mage]

Son of Mordus Kizor, Beurnim was a successful high level [Slaver] as well as a skilled [Dark Mage]. He never knew his mother, who he presumed dead. Raised by his father, he followed Mordus’s footsteps and helped summon a [Hero] at the cost of his [Slaves].

Currently, his body resides on a cold, underground floor with his father's staff impaled through his throat.

Strength

12

Dexterity

18

Stamina

19(17)

Perception

63

Endurance

11

Vitality

24(22)

Mana

832(632)

M/regen

0.6(0.5)

Affinity

4

Intelligence

161(51)

Willpower

262(212)

Soul

165

Items Equipped: Staff of Dark Blood, Ring of House Kizor, Dagger of Bloodletting, Necklace of the Slaver, Ring of Enslavement

Staff of Dark Blood (Legendary): Reduce cost of dark spells by 18%, +100 intelligence, greater durability. Special Skill: Absorb blood to supply spells with mana (+100 mana per liter).

Ring of House Kizor (Rare): +0.1 Mana regen, +200 mana, +2 Vitality, +2 Stamina, +10 Intelligence.

Dagger of Bloodletting (Uncommon): An enchanted dagger that restricts blood from clotting.

Necklace of the Slaver (Common): +50 willpower on [Slaves].

Ring of Enslavement (Uncommon): Connects to a Collar Of Enslavement. Ability to restrict skill usage of a [Slave]. Ability to know the exact location of a [Slave]. Ability to end the life of a [Slave]. If the ring is not worn for over three hours, the [Slave] will be killed by their collar.

“That staff would have been pretty useful a moment ago … and those rings.”

As I walk over to Beurnin and wrap my hand around the staff, I stop, realizing the connotations of what I just read.

‘I don’t have the ability to identify items, but I can identify dead bodies, which informs me of the items on the corpse and their usage. So if I can k—’

Insight achieved.

You have used the [Corpse Analyze] skill to identify Items.

New skill obtained: [Advanced Analyze]

[Corpse Analyze] has been removed.

[Advanced Analyze] (Very Rare)

You may target any person, animal, or object in order to attain information on them.

Bending down, I loot the items from the two dead bodies and equip them, thankful that this Beurnin guy wore clean clothing.

I frown momentarily when the effects of the [Rings of House Kizor] don’t stack, then I turn my attention to the sleeping beauty on the floor.

‘Awwww, she sleeps like a kitten … a starving, practically naked kitten with a lot of bodily scars … I’ll deal with her later.’

Turning away from the woman, I face the other Skeletal Bruiser and point my staff.

“[Raise Undead].” Mana flows out of my body and into the staff. The staff head glows purple as mana rushes towards the undead. With far more efficiency and speed than before, a new undead joins my small family.

Cracking my neck, I mentally instruct my two undead to place all of their packs on the floor. Then I instruct them to climb the stairs.

It’s an elementary deduction. Would a [Slaver] and a random [Necromancer] be able to bring a bunch of slaves here on their own? I doubt this location is in the middle of a populated area, and the slaves might run away while they were traveling through the wilderness given the least opportunity. The duo would have required … employees.

Smiling, I follow my two undead upstairs, staff and dagger firmly in hand, anticipating the inevitable massacre.

CHAPTER FIVE

Outside the mausoleum, five [Mages] and three [Dark Mages] laze around, sitting on old wood logs, stones, and marble slabs. Having been ordered by their master to protect the entrance, they sit as close to the destroyed door as possible. Most of the members are relatively young, in their late teens and twenties, while a few are in their thirties.

One young [Mage] by the name of Amos is at the center of the group. He alone stands while waiting for his master. Hopping from left foot to right foot, the seventeen-year-old is constantly looking around his surroundings, unable to sit still. “What is taking Master so long? Shouldn't the summoning be done already? I want to see the [Hero].”

Another mage, his senior by thirty years, shakes his head. “Amos, for someone who got the [Dark Mage] class at the astounding age of sixteen, it sometimes amazes me how ignorant you are of the laws of magic.”

The other [Mages] chuckle at the lighthearted taunt, only to chuckle harder as Amos crosses his arms and harrumphs. A faint blush colors the young man's cheeks. “I’m still new to this, old man. I have a lot to learn.”

The older [Mage] smiles at Amos. “I’m not that old, kid. I still have quite a bit of Vitality left to burn through. Regardless, it is fine that you have yet to understand.” The man moves his arm across the crowd. “Most of us had to level up our [Mage] class quite a bit before we were recognized by the world and ranked up into [Dark Mages]. We had to learn many dark [Spells] as well as study the fundamentals of magic. But you, Amos, gained the class with no formal training whatsoever.”

A frown forms on Amos's face as he remembers the day he had gained the class … the day his village turned on him. His father, a [Trader], had abandoned him to the growing village mob, who would have killed him on the spot had his mother, a decent level [Guardswoman], not fought them back and bought him time to flee.

He had traveled, lost in the woods for days, suffering from hunger and dehydration. Amos had almost succumbed to his exhaustion when he encountered Mordus, his master and savior. Mordus had spoken of his god, Loki, who had guided him into the woods and brought him to find Amos.

His master, having found out about Amos’s class and age, was ecstatic. He was so happy that he had invited Amos to become his direct pupil.

After a couple of months of training and advancing several levels, his master took Amos back to the village that had turned on him and killed his mother.

Then, with a veritable army of undead, his master slaughtered the tiny village of fifty souls. Amos’s father, who was in the village at the time and had already found a new wife, was taken captive by Mordus, tied up, and presented to Amos.

Under his master’s guidance, Amos had slowly taken his revenge against his father; revenge for abandoning him, revenge for his mother’s death, and revenge for forgetting his mother in the arms of a new wife.

That day, Amos advanced his [Dark Mage] class by several levels, much to the delight of his master. The praise and congratulation he had received from Mordus and his peers was more affirmation than the entire village had given him his whole life.

Amos smiled back at his elder peer and fellow [Dark Mage], acknowledging the man's honest praise. “Master says that I probably have some kind of bloodline … he hasn't taken me to a city shrine to find out.”

“And he never will!” a large man yells out, his undersized robe stretched tight across his substantial girth. “Dem city shrines be no place for our kind. They gonna check yer class first before they let ye even see da shrine.”

Amos turned around and looked at the muscular [Dark Mage] and [Pirate]. It’s a rarity to find [Mages] who have both a high-level physical class and magical class.

“Corazon, don't fill the boy’s head with your ignorance. There are many ways to gain access to a city shrine,” a tall [Mage] interrupts with a smile. “All you need is a couple of drachme and the [Guards] won't ask questions. Just slip some into their palms during the night shift and you’re all set.”

“Bullocks, they don't use regular [Guards], dey use dem fucking [Inquisitors]. Dey got dat skill [Analyze], so dey can see ya class.” Corazon retorts, sneering at the tall gangly [Mage], his hand slowly inching towards a two-handed axe.

The gangly [Mage] tightens his hold on a wand hidden in his robe.

Around them, the other [Mages] tensed, unsure what they should do about the situation that was unraveling.

“Corazon, Daran, do not let your silly rivalry make you stupid.” The oldest person, and highest level [Dark Mage] in the group, spoke up. “Our master could walk up those stairs at any moment, and I highly doubt he would be pleased to find out a fight happened during such a momentous occasion.”

Both the muscular Corazon and the tall Daran quickly settle down, realizing that Mordus would definitely grow angry and would certainly punish them. His son is adept at torture.

Nodding towards the two, the old [Mage] turns to Amos, who has been standing the entire time, unsure if he should interrupt the bickering mages. “Amos, you should sit. I don't believe our master will be coming up anytime soon. As I was going to explain, high-level spells require a vast amount of mana, so much that [Mages] become exhausted from casting them. Our master will need to rest for some time after the summoning.”

“But … Elder Ning, wouldn't that mean that he may need our help? What if he's injured?”

Chuckling softly, Ning nods approvingly at the boy. “Mordus is lucky to have such a caring student like yourself.” Ning’s eyes turn towards the entrance. “Unfortunately, summoning magic requires you to have [Mana Control] so that you don't leak any mana and disrupt the ritual.”

“But the [Priestess] slave—”

“Is an exception precisely for her ability to heal.” Ning quickly interrupts. “Amos, let our master do his ritual. Trust in his judgment.”

Amos bites his lip and takes a look at the opening before sighing, defeated. “I guess you're right.”

Amos turns around and looks around for a seat, but is interrupted by the sound of heavy feet striking marble.

Tock, tock.

Turning back around, Amos peers into the entrance.

Tock, tock, tock.

The sound gradually increases in volume.

Tock, tock, tock.

A smile blooms on Amos's face as he recognises the telltale sound of the master’s undead footsteps striking the old, dusty stone steps.

Tock, tock, tock.

With a flicker of ghostly flame bouncing off the walls, he finally sees the undead as they slowly make their way up.

The two massive beings of bone step forward, exiting the ruin.

Amos spares them only a quick glance before his gaze goes back towards the staircase, expecting his master to walk up any second.

“Amos! Something's wrong, get away from them!” Elder Ning shouts, noticing the purple glow within the skulls, different from their master’s green.

Unfortunately, his warning comes too late.

One of the undead reaches out with its oversized hand and wraps its bony fingers around Amos's head.

“Hmmmmmgmmgmm!” with a muffled scream, Amos quickly grabs the hand holding his, fruitlessly attempting to pry the undead off.

Unfortunately for him, like most [Dark Mages], he never raised his strength stat.

The undead, commanded by its master, lifts the young man into the air by the head. Amos flails erratically, his legs kicking at the undead frantically.

Amos’s flailing body is three feet off the ground when the two undead step forward into the central clearing, away from the entrance.

The first skeleton lifts Amos higher. The other Mages watch with bated breaths, unsure what to do about the situation.

At an unseen signal, the undead holding Amos starts to tighten its hand. A loud crack echoes through the clearing as Amos’s skull caves in. His arms and legs go limp, falling to his sides. Brain and blood ooze from between the undead’s bony fingers.

The pride and joy of Mordus, a young man with a bright future, dead in a matter of seconds.

Gasps resound throughout the clearing as the mages quickly grab for their staffs and weapons.

The massive undead drops the corpse and both unsheathe their iron greatswords.

With unexpected speed, they rush forwards, ending a [Mage] in the middle of casting a spell and dismembering another as he attempts to run.

“[Fireball]!” “[Acid Spray]!”

Spells are yelled and cast upon the two undead, corroding their ragged, black raiment, revealing their horrendous forms.

The undead are made up of bones fused together by dark magic. Slightly singed and burned pieces of skulls, femurs, arms, legs, and various other bones stick out from all parts of their bodies.

“[Binding Shadow]!” Ethereal black chains reach up from their shadows and wrap around their undead bodies, attempting to restrict their movements.

Unfortunately, Daran’s spell is vastly overwhelmed by the undeads’ strength.

With but a modicum of effort, the undead shatter the chains binding them. One immediately charges Daran, impaling him on its bony, spiked shoulder and then slamming into a tree.

With a crack, the tree, old and decayed, collapses. The undead rips the crushed, dead body off its shoulder and turns to its new prey, the burly [Mage] wielding a battle-axe.

_____

Elder Ning, having noticed the purple glow of the undead, had immediately run into the foliage and moved to higher ground  to assess the situation.

The oldest [Mage], and probably the most well versed in the dark arts other than Mordus, has a great many spells at his disposal.

Taking a deep breath, Ning feels into his mana pool, taking hold and spreading his arm forward. Mana quickly flows into his arms, forming a circular ball between his hands, his aim focused on one of the two undead which is impaling one of the trainee [Mages].

A smile spreads on the man's face.

“[Dark Bla—].”

*****************************

“[Dark Bla—].”

With movements practiced through many lives, my left-hand darts out and covers the [Mage]’s mouth, while my other hand stabs a dagger through his back, going under the ribs, past the organs, and slicing the nerves which connect the spine and heart.

With the nerves severed, the heart no longer gets the signal from the brain to beat.

Using my arms, I gently catch the falling body of the wide-eyed [Mage] and slow his descent down onto the forest floor.

His eyes bore into mine, a singular stare holding all the questions he can no longer ask.

I used to wonder why humans would always give that questioning look as they died. I’d ponder what answers they were seeking, whether they wondered how they died or why they died. The answer came to me eventually when I died in a similar manner once. It was something so simple that I didn’t really consider it.

The question, “Where did you come from?”

“I have to admit, out of your entire group, you were probably the most dangerous,” I say to the dying man, answering a question he most likely wasn’t asking. “I watched as you ran into the foliage, hid, and prepared to cast a spell from the shadows. You had great positioning, good timing, and excellent judgment.”

As I speak, his eyes begin to close as he struggles to stay awake.

“Maybe that would have been enough to defeat my undead.”

His eyes are halfway shut.

“It’s a shame that you completely missed me as I snuck through the entrance. You all were so enthralled with that [Mage]’s execution that … and he’s dead.”

‘He died with his eyes half shut …’

Shaking my head, I lay his head down on the ground and get back up to my feet, pulling my dagger out of the perfectly smooth stab wound, cleaning it on his robe afterward.

‘I have to admit, non-clotting daggers are easy to clean … could clothing also have this enchantment?’

Looking back at the clearing, a frown forms on my face as I see one of my undead get beheaded by a cloaked [Mage] wielding a dark, smoking battleaxe. Despite his outfit, I can see his powerful build. My undead falls to the ground with a smack, its head rolling slowly away on the ground..

Luckily my other undead just finished decapitating the second to last [Mage].

The muscular [Mage] turns his axe towards my final undead, his stance, though good, leaves quite a few openings.

‘I guess I should interfere now.’

Getting up and walking out of the foliage, I wave my hand in the air. “Hello, muscular axe guy! I have come to end your life!” I exclaim confidently with a smile.

His head whips towards me. He raises an eyebrow. “Who da fuck are yu?”

‘Oh no … they have a butchered version of this language … crap.’

Walking forward with a smile, I step between the still standing undead and the [Dark Mage]. “Yo! Name’s Quasi Eludo, [Hero] extraordinaire.”

The man eyes me threateningly, his axe lowering into a defensive stance.

‘Huh … good instincts.’

“So yu be dat [Hero] Mordus summoned …” He shakes his head, eyes trained on me still. “Was a mistake ta summon yu.”

His grip on his axe tightens as he looks above my head at the towering undead with the purple glow.

“I dunt suppose I can jus wak away? Neva like dem anyway.” he says as he slightly points his axe towards the various decapitated corpses littering the ground.

With a confident smile, I pull my dagger from under my robe and hold it in my hand. With expert movements, I spin the razor-sharp blade around my hand and fingers. “Unfortunately, I have various reasons to end your life.”

I start to walk slowly towards the [Dark Mage]. “The first reason is that I need to level up my class.” I crack my neck.

The [Dark Mage] takes a step back, eyeing the blade in my hand warily.

“The second reason is I need to test out this body’s limits.” My hand takes a reverse grip on the knife.

I lower my center of gravity, legs bending, arms relaxed. “The last and most important reason,” my eyes focus, reading the environment and my enemy perfectly, “is that you were a part of a group that slaughtered children, and I’m supposed to be a [Hero].”

With a burst of unnatural speed, I rush forward, easily dodging to the side as the man attempts to strike me head-on.

As I dodge, my knife digs into his flesh, cutting close to the main vein in his leg.

He spins and slices again, yelling and roaring, his axe swinging centimeters from my body, while I weave expertly around him, my dagger flicking out and slicing skin.

‘Flexible, but …’ I limbo under a wide axe swing, ‘not at the level of a gymnast. Agile,’ I feint and dodge an overhead strike, ‘but not enough for acrobatics. Fast,’ I swipe my dagger across his extended arm, ‘but not enough to catch an arrow. Damn, I love that trick.’

I continue fighting, testing my limits as I do so. My body responds well, though not at the level I have trained many of my bodies to.

Several minutes go by before I finally move away from the enraged man.

His axe points at me, the light of it barely even aglow now. “Wats …” He pauses to breathe, “wrung?” he asks, blood oozing from several places from his body, ragged breathing coming from his mouth as he attempts to catch his breath.

“Wrong? Nothing's wrong. I just got bored after killing you twenty- times,” I explain, looking at my bloody dagger, watching the blood flow off like water on rubber.

Finally regaining some stamina, a cocky smile comes on the man's face. “Ha, you think ye won? Yur little cuts cont take me down, now ye be jus stallin.”

Resisting the urge to throw my dagger and implant it in his face, I roll my eyes at the man's ignorance.

“Four cuts on your left leg, three cuts on your right, seven on your wrists, three on each arm, and seven cuts on your neck, not to mention the opportunities I had to stab you in the eye. Each of those cuts could have been killing blows. Had I nicked a little deeper, I’d have cut your main arteries which would have bled you out and killed you, especially with my nice new dagger.”

He quickly glances down at the cuts on his body, eyes widening in realization as their locations match with my description.

His hands start to shake as he grips his axe even harder, eyes roaming the clearing.

I sigh. “Don’t bother looking for a way out, you've already seen my speed and stamina. The only thing you can do now is to defeat me.”

“P-please … I didn't kill no one … I jus be tryin to learn magic.”

“And so the begging and lying begins … Like, really, I don’t actually care who you killed. Hell, I have the [Advanced Analyse] skill, so I know that you’re a level 78 [Pirate] and a level 54 [Dark Mage]. Don't lie to me about not killing anyone, Corazon, especially when your higher level class of [Pirate] more than likely requires you to.”

“I’ll … I’ll be your [Servant] … [Slave] … anythin … I’m strong!” he hurriedly exclaims in a panic.

Twirling my knife, I look towards my undead.

‘Maybe …’

“Alright, alright,” I tap my fingers, the undead walks forward at my call. “Here's the deal: you’re going to fight my undead here.” I point at the behemoth walking toward the man. “If you win, I will let you walk away.”

Hope returns to his eyes as the undead trudges towards him. Corazon loosens the grip on his axe as he wipes sweat off his face.

‘Good, good. I can give the undead under my control orders and they will attempt to do them to the best of their ability, but what if I could control their movement mentally? Should be much better since they seem to be unable to use their skills … I wonder if that’s because of my low level as a [Necromancer]?’

“[Decaying Blade]!” The man's axe gets engulfed in a dark reddish-black light as energy twirls around the axehead.

‘Huh. I was sure he was out of mana.’

With a deep breath, the man rushes forward, aiming for the undead’s head, a rather obvious weak point.

With my guidance, the undead sidesteps the axe swing and brings down the greatsword towards Corazon's head.

“[Reactive Parry]!” With a sudden burst of speed, his axe flicks back up and blocks the downward swing, smacking the greatsword back.

‘So physical skills don't require mana. That’s good to know.’

Having failed to kill the undead, Corazon starts to swing his axe expertly, attempting to create an opening.

A smile crosses my lips as I direct my undead to block, parry, and dodge perfectly.

‘His fighting style is so … mechanical. It's like he fights with instinct but doesn't understand the moves he is using. Like someone programmed a robot to fight. Efficient, but also predictable.’

The fight continues, my undead easily keeping up, but Corazon is slowing down, both from blood loss and a loss of stamina.

‘He hasn't used that [Reactive Parry] skill again. It seems quite powerful considering the sheer speed … unless …’

“Cooldown,” I whisper, realizing a fatal weakness of physical skills.

Well, I'll finish this soon enough.

With a mental command, my undead quickly increases his attack speed while making better use of its strength and size to force the [Dark Mage] to step back.

‘Checkmate.’

My undead attempts an overhead strike, which Corazon properly counters with his axe. As soon as the greatsword makes contact, I order my undead to let go of the handle.

The undead quickly complies and flicks its hand out, grabbing Corazon’s head with its longer reach.

With a small hop, the undead jumps toward the [Dark Mage] and allows its far heavier body to push the man onto the ground.

Due to the composition of the undead, many of the sharper bones comprising its body penetrate the [Pirate]’s skin.

Panic overwhelms the [Dark Mage]. He lets go of his axe and starts punching the undead.

His knuckles split and bleed while the undead is seemingly undamaged by the assault.

Ordering the undead to not move, I slowly walk to them.

“Corazon, good fight there, but you seem to be seriously lacking in skill.”

Corazon’s punches stop. He looks up at me through  the bony figure of the undead that is  keeping him down.

“I offered you a way out, to save your pathetic life … but you seem to have failed.”

He tries to say something to me but is muffled by the undead’s hand reaching and covering his face. I get the gist of it though.

“Yes, I'm sure you would be more than happy to serve me and all … but I don't need weak servants.”

With a mental command, I order my undead to squeeze.

Feeling the increasing pressure, Corazon starts to punch harder and more frantically, causing actual cracks to form on my undead’s skull. Unfortunately for him, it’s too little too late.

With a wet crunch, the [Dark Mage]’s skull implodes, his movements completely cease.

“This … Well, that was pretty easy … I wonder how many levels I gained.”

With a thought, I pull up the system notifications.

Level up x 8

You are now a level 29 [Hero]

‘That sucks. I was hoping for some cool new ability.’

Level up x 13

You are now a level 14 [Necromancer]

New skills obtained:

-[Bone Renewal]

‘The fuck does that do?’

[Bone Renewal] (Common)

Using the corpses of bodies around you, repair a skeletal undead under your control.

‘Oh. Well then, that's hella useful.

‘[Bone Renewal]’

Without needing to say or do anything, mana erupts from my body and enters the dead body of Corazon, evaporating the flesh. The untouched bones rise up, break apart into dust, and fly towards my undead, fixing and patching the damage as though it was brand new.

I smile. “Finally, something I can work with.”

CHAPTER SIX

“Jessica, it’s time for you to take your vows,” the head [Priest] calls me up next to him.

I tentatively walk past the other [Initiates] and climb the stairs to where a statue of a woman in wings and armor stands before a large basin of water.

After bowing to the statue of Eir, the goddess of healing, I turn and face [Priest] Chavez.

Smiling confidently at me, the [Priest] picked up  a dagger from a stand next to him and handed it to me. “May Eir be with you.”

I nod silently and take the knife from him. While ceremonial in purpose, it holds no elaborate designs. It’s a simple bronze blade, polished to shine and sharpened to slice.

I step away from the [Priest] and turn to the white basin filled with water. I raise my left hand over the water, and with my right hand, I hold the dagger against my palm.

“Goddess Eir. I am Jessica, [Initiate], loyal servant of the gods.”

‘Here goes.’

“May I suffer so that none more shall suffer, bleed so that wounds may mend, and weep so that others may cry for joy.”

I draw the dagger across my palm, cutting through skin and into flesh with excruciating ease.

“May my blood symbolize my body, which I devote to you. May my pain serve as a covenant between us.”

Embracing the pain, I leave my hand above the water and let the blood trickle from my palm and into the pool.

“By my life, I swear to save those in need. By your word, I swear to aid those who suffer. By my chastity, I swear to uphold your virtues. For as long as I save, may I serve.”

I close my eyes and silently pray to Eir to accept me.

Blood drip, drip, drips down into the basin, staining the water. Time passes as I wait for a sign, a signal, anything to show acknowledgment.

The world seems to grow distant and the sounds around me become muffled. The sound of blood, my blood, striking water grows more muffled with every drop.

Only then, when I no longer hear the droplets of my blood, does my goddess speak to me.

“I hear your vow and acknowledge your faith, [Initiate]. You shall shelter others beneath my wings. Bear my mark and wherever you walk, may you bring light and joy.

“Welcome to our family, [Priestess].”

I open my eyes. My fugue ends and I can see that my cut has healed. Not even a scar was left behind.

Gathering above the basin, the blood I spilled gathers and coalesces into the air, dripping upwards from the pool in a crimson sphere. Its surface pulses, growing as each drop sends a ripple from pole to pole across the bloody wonder.

Wearing a smile outside my control, I carefully take hold of the ball of red. Its surface feels solid under my grip as I gently place it against my shoulder.

The blood sizzles, but it doesn’t burn. The orb seeps into my skin, twisting into a shape I’ve long since learned to recognize, a white raven.

The clapping begins. Turning around, I see the cheering crowd of other [Initiates], [Priests], and [Priestesses] who have chosen to devote their lives to the faith. I see the proud smile of the head [Priest], a man who had taken care of me since I was a little girl.

Tears quickly form in my eyes as I—

-----

Jessica eyes snap open, her muddled mind attempting to adjust to her unfamiliar surroundings. She’s sprawled out on a dusty marble floor, shivering from the chill that had crept into her limbs while she slept.

“Another dream …” she murmurs softly.

With an undignified grunt, she lifts her sore body off the ground with a shudder. Her muscles struggled to lift her to her knees under her own weight .

‘What is …’ she tries to parse her memories, ‘There was … a ritual. I can’t remember what …’

“Ugh …” she puts her hand on her forehead to soothe her growing headache. “What happened?”

“You witnessed my body in all its sexy glory and lost consciousness,” someone replies.

Shocked by the unknown voice, she spins around and looks towards the source.

“Don’t worry,” the speaker continues, “it’s perfectly normal to faint after beholding such a magnificent body as my own. Few women can withstand the image of raw masculine might that I am.”

A man with long, black hair, clad in a familiar cloak, crouched in the center of the chamber. He stared intently at a pile of bones. One of them rises into the air and wobbles for a moment before falling back to the floor. The uprising bone repeats this action while the man watches it with rapt attention.

‘Am I still dreaming?’ Jessica asks herself.

“Ughhhhh,” Jessica’s thoughts are brought to a halt as her headache redoubles.

The memories resurface; the killing of the slaves, the summoning of the naked man, the deaths of Mordus and Beirnim—

Her eyes widen in horror. Panic sets in.

Her jumbled thoughts regain enough coherence for her to realize, ‘I have to get out of here!’

Forcing herself to stand despite the pain, she turns towards the stairs … only to be blocked by a towering, bony monster guarding the exit.

‘No, no, nonononono …’ she thinks, her terror clouding her thoughts.

“Oh Eir,” she whispers as she stumbles backward and falls down.

“D-don’t kill me! Please don’t!” she yells in fear.

Shaking his head, the man's eyes finally move away from the bone, which lays still, its dreams spent.

“Why is it that the first person I have no intention of killing is hysterical?” he wonders aloud.

He absentmindedly scratches his ear and scowls.

After considering it, he sighs. “Whatever, I'll just wait till you calm down.”

Without another word, his gaze returns to the bones, which begin their cycle of rising and falling all over again.

‘Is he not going to kill me?’

Several minutes pass by as Jessica sits there, watching the man as he continues to stare at a piece of floating bone.

‘He doesn't seem … bad,’ she admits to herself.

“Who are you?” she probes for information.

“Ah, right.” He perks up. “I haven’t introduced myself.”

The man abruptly stands up and flourishes his cloak, which Jessica now recognizes once belonging to Mordus. He raises his hand and performs an exaggerated bow.

“I am the professional summoned [Hero] for hire, Quasi Eludo. Pleased to make your acquaintance, miss …?”

‘Did … did he just bow to me?’

The silence resumes between the two, Jessica staring at Quasi, entirely bewildered, while Quasi smiles at her.

“Miss …?” he trails off again. “You know, when someone introduces themselves, it's polite to give an introduction in return.”

‘Why is he being so nice?’ Jessica’s train of thought muddles along. ‘That doesn't make any sense. I’m a slave. He can't just be …’

Her train of thought crashes and burns as she finally processes everything he said.

“You …” she stutters, “You’re actually a [Hero]. A real … summoned by the gods …”

Lifting an eyebrow, he slowly nods. “Pretty sure I am. I have the [Hero] class. I was summoned. Destroyed evil. Saved a damsel in distress. Yep, all signs point to being a [Hero].”

‘An actual [Hero]. Oh no! What do I do? A [Hero], a real live [Hero]! And, and, he saved me! I need to … Introductions!’

She starts standing up to curtsy and makes it to her knees before she realizes the deficient state of her attire.

Attempting some modesty, she bows from where she kneels.

“J-Jessica!” She stammers. “Sorry. My name is Jessica.”

A noticeable blush creeps up her face.

“Heh. Hahahahah … Hahahahahaha!”

The man’s chuckles grow into roaring laughter. He bends over and holds his stomach as he struggles desperately to control himself.

“I … I can’t …” he wheezes, “Oh, that was just too funny. It’s been a while since I’ve seen someone’s facial expressions switch so quickly …” He laughs again, “Oh, wow.”

Jessica’s face is now a cherry pink. She lowers her head further in shame.

‘I’m such an idiot,’ she berates herself.

“Well then, nice to meet you, Jessica. Sorry for laughing, but it was rather funny … Anyways, all of those [Mages] upstairs are dead, so you’re free to leave as you wish. If you need supplies, feel free to take it from those packs on Mule’s back.”

“Mule?” She asks without making eye contact.

“That would be big ‘n’ ugly over here, the undead [Warrior] thing with the glowing purple skull. I needed to give him a name, so I named him Mule … mostly since I’m using him to lug my stuff.”

Turning towards the stairs, Jessica sees that the undead standing there does indeed have a large pack on its back

“He’s yours?”

“Yup!” he cheerfully answers. “I’m also a [Necromancer]. I got the class, took those undead from the old guy, and then used them to kill off the [Mages] above,” he answers without missing a beat.

“No, but that’s …” Jessica trails off as she processes what Quasi said. “I thought [Heroes] couldn’t take any dark classes. I’ve never heard of a [Hero] with a dark class.”

Shrugging, the man walks and sits down on a chunk of ruined marble. “Really now? I didn't know that … I might’ve screwed up then.”

She mulls over his words. ‘He’s really a [Necromancer]? Maybe the stories are wrong? It’s not like I’ve been to an academy. The education in the monastery wasn’t perfect… Maybe [Heroes] can get any class.’

“Anyhow,” the [Necromancer] interupts Jessica’s thoughts, “as much as I would love to keep chatting, I have some training to do. Feel free to take whatever you need and leave. You are free now.”

He strolls over to the pile of bones and resumes levitating them once more.

‘Free?’ the word passes through Jessica’s mind.

Her hand moves up, feeling the tight collar still wrapped around her neck.

“Do you have the ring?”

His head angles itself back to look at me.

“Oh, this slavery ring right?” he asks, holding up his left hand with the object in question on his ring finger.

“Y-yes! Don’t take it off!”

He raises an eyebrow. “Are you trying to propose to me or something?”

“N-no!” Jessica’s face flushes once more. “I’ll die if you take it off! The collar will kill me if you do.”

He eyes the plain iron band. “Hmmm. A bit morbid that the [Slave] would die with the master, but it is quite interesting.”

The [Necromancer] rotates his hand and carefully looks over the intricate engravings in the iron.

“So, I'm guessing you’d need an enchanter or someone with a special skillset to remove that collar. Is that right?”

Biting her lip, Jessica looks back at the ground. “No … the collars can't be removed while … while the slave is alive.”

****************************

‘While alive, eh? That's a pretty cruel enchantment …’ I consider, ‘but I can see it's worth. Keeping an expensive slave loyal and hard-working would be pretty easy if killing them would be the only way to reuse a collar.

‘Of course, creating an enchantment that would mind control them would be better, but that’s probably a bit too much to ask for.’

“Well then, Jessica, it seems you’re stuck with me until I learn to remove that collar without killing you.”

She bows forward.

“Thank you,” she says with a bright smile.

My gaze lingers on her. ‘Yeah, she would be beautiful with fifty more pounds, a bath, and a nice dress.’

Turning away from her, I focus on the experiment I’ve been performing.

‘[Bone Renewal]’

Mana leaves my body and flows towards the pile of bones on the floor near my damaged undead.

A bone is lifted off the floor.

With a bit of will, I cancel the spell and let the bone fall to the ground.

‘I'm so close. Just a little bit more!’

I continue to repeat the process, ignoring the girl as she slowly walks towards me.

In most worlds, realities, dimensions, or whatever, mana is prevalent. There are a few exceptions to this, like good ol’ Earth, but they are few.

The mana, aether, prana, ki, whatever word you choose, is just a form of energy. With the right theoretical knowledge and practical know-how, you can use it just as well as one could use electricity, if not better.

Just like electricity, mana follows certain laws, certain rules. These laws define what sorts of abilities the mana in a realm can bestow. If you can determine these laws, measure the inputs and outputs and find functional dependencies, then you can learn how to create the effects you desire.

“What are you doing? How are you doing that? Is it a skill?”

“Trying to learn a skill, using a skill, yes it is a skill,” I quickly answer her questions, trying to focus on the mana and how it morphs.

“You can learn skills? Is it part of your [Hero] class? What skill is it?”

‘A minute ago she was all reserved and fearing for her life, now she’s all inquisitive and relaxed.’ I observe. ‘That's not how a former slave should act.’

“Here's the story: I gained the skill [Bone Renewal], which allows me to use bones to fix damaged undead.” I point at the undead body next to me which has been smashed.

“The skill is fairly useful; it allows me to perform quick repairs on any undead I have, but its real utility comes from the spell’s simplicity. You see, I can sense mana. I tend to learn how to do it within minutes of being summoned. The skill [Bone Renewal], though complicated, has a very simplistic start. First, a simple spell matrix is used to levitate the bones. Then a more complicated spell matrix turns the bones into dust. After that, the most complicated spell matrix activates which uses the bone dust to heal the undead. The second and third matrix are much too complicated for me right now, but the first is within the realm of understanding.”

“But … how are you able to cast without doing anything? All you’re doing is staring at it.”

I grin at her. “Magic.”

She frowns at me. I shrug my shoulders.

“I have two skills. One allows me to cast spells without needing to say anything. The other allows me to cast spells without needing to even move, which I think is the more useful of the two. I activate my skill, follow the formation of mana, and then cancel the skill after the first matrix. I repeat the pro-”

“You can’t cancel skills!” she blurts out, slightly startling me.

Turning away from the bone, I see her holding her hands over her mouth, her pale cheeks turning beet red.

I stare at her incredulously.

“Really? Are you telling me that no one actually thought about canceling a skill or spell halfway?”

She just stares at me, shaking her head slowly. “People don’t … I’ve never heard of anyone canceling a skill before.”

‘Huh,’ I mull over her words. ‘That’s fucking stupid. It seems pretty obvious to me, but … maybe someone’s trying to keep it a secret? Or someones, more likely. Then again, most ideas seem simple once you’ve thought of them.’

‘Well, I do have to ask, what’s more likely: Me discovering something that no one has ever discovered before within several hours of a summoning, a conspiracy to keep helpful knowledge hidden from the population in some hackneyed attempt to keep them weak, or …’

I turn to look at Jessica. ‘Maybe she’s just an idiot?’

“Well, I can …” I give her an appraising look. “It’s useful for learning magic and might help me gain new skills. I've been doing this for about five or six hours now. Can’t really tell though, no sun. Anyhow, I have already gained [Advanced Mana Sense] which has sped up my learning process quite a bit. I think I’ll have a new spell figured out within the hour.”

I turn back towards the bone, continuously casting my spell and interrupting it.

****************

Jessica watches the hero as he analyzes the skill.

‘That’s … amazing. Truly, amazing. It’s only been a few hours since he’s started using mana and he’s already making new discoveries? It’s just … He must have so much mana to be able to do this constantly! The [Hero] class truly is impressive.’

She abruptly shakes her head in an attempt to refocus.

“Master, is the—”

“Don’t call me master, call me Quasi. I don't consider you a [Slave], so don't act like one,” the [Hero] interrupts her.

“Um … Quasi, is there anything I can help you with?” Jessica asks him, feeling awkward just watching him.

Quasi raises a hand to his chin and ponders the question for a moment before answering

“Actually, there is. How are you around dead bodies?”

“As a [Priestess] of Eir, I have been taken to war camps and made to heal [Soldiers]. I have seen many dead bodies.”

She doesn’t mention that they’d died while she desperately tried to save them, or speak of the men whom she could only comfort as they breathed their last.

“Perfect! I need you to go upstairs and loot the dead [Mages] for anything useful. I completely forgot to take care of that once I got my new skill and rushed down here to check it out.”

His eyes turn towards the staircase where the undead stands guard.

“I’ll have Mule follow you and accept your orders. It won’t respond to anything complicated, but it should keep any wild animals, beasts, or whatever from bothering you.”

Nodding slowly, Jessica turned towards the staircase where the undead. Mule steps aside to let her through. Trepidatiously, she walks toward the staircase while watching the abomination follow her every move.

“Oh, by the way …” Quasi says as she reaches the exit, “the pack has a lot of dried food and water. Eat as much as you want!”

Stopping and looking towards the undead’s massive pack, a frown forms on my lips as I remember how the [Mages] had been eating well while only allowing the [Slaves] small crusts of dried bread.

I guess they didn't need them alive in the end.

“Also, find some clothes to put on. Some of the bodies should be in mostly one piece.”

‘Mostly?’

______

“Oh … That’s what he meant,” she says, stunned by the horrifyingly mutilated bodies.

‘This is …’

Body parts were strewn everywhere. Some were crushed to paste, others with organs spilling out of their stomachs. The marble pillars standing before the entrance to the crypt had been coated in blood and entrails.

One body near the entrance, though technically still in one piece, had his skull crushed into pulp. Most of the others have been sliced and torn apart.

Jessica almost smiles before she stops herself.

‘Why …?’ she wonders to herself. ‘Why am I happy? I shouldn’t be happy about this. I know they’ve tortured and killed, but to be happy …’

Shaking her head, Jessica turns toward the undead that followed her up.

“Get on your knees,” she orders it.

The undead immediately complies.

Jessica walks around the undead and opens up the bag on its back. Inside, she finds a variety of supplies, ranging from tents to food to spare socks.

She grabs some dried meat, fruits, and a gourd of water.

Taking small bites, she slowly eats the food, making sure not to eat too quickly. Sometimes, after a war, Jessica’s work as a [Priestess] had her treating prisoners who had been half-starved to death. Allowing them to eat their fill was counterproductive to their overall health. It was best to slowly increase their food intake day by day.

Once she had finished with the food, she moved toward the dead bodies and began stripping them of their worldly possessions and stuffing them into the undead’s pack.

Taking Quasi's advice, Jessica finds a [Mage] of a similar build to her and commanders their robes. They feel heavy on her, though that's be expected with her atrophied muscles.

Over the next few hours, Jessica salvages what she can from the ruined bodies, pausing frequently as her strength isn’t what it once was. She cleans the new supplies the best she can and organizes what is in Mule’s pack. Her fear of the undead fades as it faithfully follows each of her orders.

Finished, Jessica sits on a log and lights a campfire. Slowly relaxing, she watches the flames as they dance around. Flickering yellows and reds burn with an ever-present intensity. The warmth reminds Jessica of her family, the other [Priests] and [Priestesses], traveling together on long trips to war-torn lands, healing the injured.

“What are you smiling for?”

The corners of Jessica’s mouth flattened. Looking up, she sees Quasi exiting the mausaleum with several large pieces of sharp bone floating around him.

She might have been awed if she didn’t notice the frown on his face.

“What’s wrong?” she asks.

Shaking his head, Quasi points at the hovering bones. “The skill I learned is not as good as it should be. I figured out the matrix used for making the bones float, but it seems that the system is more complicated than I thought. Each matrix has several submatrices hidden within the main spell which are extremely hard to both sense and simulate.”

Jessica had absolutely no idea what he was talking about. She doesn’t know much about magic since it’s not her area of expertise as a [Priestess].

“So … why are you unhappy? You got a new skill, didn't you? You learned it without even needing to level up.”

“Right, sorry. I forget that not everyone understands my thought process.”

One of the bones moves above his hand.

“My new skill, [Bone Levitation], is weaker, much weaker, than the portion of the skill I was copying. See, this skill allows me to levitate any bone, with a cost based on my mana and the bone’s weight. The problem is that [Bone Renewal] lifts bones of any size with the same mana cost. This leads me to believe the skill is also influencing inertia.”

‘Inertia?’

“Is it, uh …” Jessica struggled to piece together what the [Hero] means. “It’s making it weigh less?”

He sighs and walks towards the fire.

“No, it's completely negating mass.”

‘What is he talking about?’

“Doesn’t that just mean less weight?”

“No,” Quasi explains with forced patience, “mass is an object’s resistance to a change in motion. Weight is mass times the acceleration of gravity.”

“What’s gravity?”

Quasi’s mouth drops open. He stares at Jessica with incomprehension as he considers the ramifications of such a simple question.

“Did I say something wrong?”

He lifts an eyebrow and then rubs his forehead slowly.

“If this is the state of the erudition in this world, then it seems my job as a [Hero] will be much easier.”

The two lapse into silence. Quasi sits down across the fire from her. Jessica thinks.

‘A [Hero]. Why here, of all places? There’s nothing out here, this far to the south. He said he had a job, but—Oh right, he must have a patron god.’

“Which god summoned you?” Jessica finally asks.

Moving his hand up, Quasi pulls back his long black hair.

“To be honest, I’m not completely sure, but I think it was Loki.”

Jessica’s eyes widen as she recognizes the name.

“It can’t be! The god Loki is the one who directed the old man to sacrifice all those [Slaves]! Why would an evil god summon a hero who would slaughter his believers?”

Quasi chuckled before answering. “That’s a major misconception. No god is inherently good or evil. All of them have their own agendas. They will lie, cheat, steal, and kill their way into gaining power. Of course, there are exceptions, as there almost always is with most groups, but they don’t usually last long. Kindness, courage, and honor are all great traits but are terrible at keeping people with them alive, especially when another god wants your life.”

Jessica shakes her head in denial. “Eir would never do such horrible things,” she says adamantly.

Quasi’s purple eyes meet Jessica’s.

“Who is Eir?”

Jessica blinks, then she remembers that the [Hero] isn’t from this world and wouldn’t know of the gods. “She is the Valkyrie Goddess of Healing. She was created by the great god Odin to serve and help humanity.”

Quasi’s lips turn up into a smile.

“Oh … Interesting. Tell me, does this Odin have a son named Thor? A god of thunder perhaps?”

Jessica frowns. “Yes, he has a son named Thor and a wife named Freya.”

Quasi giggles to himself. “Hehehe … I think the god who summoned me is indeed named Loki, and I may very well know his agenda.”

While Jessica knows that Mordus worshipped this god, Loki, she had never heard of him anywhere else. She had assumed Mordus was insane.

He quickly stands up, stretching his body. “Well, I’m exhausted, so let’s make camp. I’ll have Mule guard us while we sleep.”

Nodding, Jessica stands up, orders the undead to drop on its knee, and started taking out bedrolls while Quasi stared intently at the trees.

CHAPTER SEVEN

A tall man stares out a window. He is old but shows few signs of it other than his white hair. He stands with his  back ramrod straight and his hands clasped behind his back while he looks down below with an imperious gaze. He wears spotless white robes woven with magic and power. He fits his office as [Grand Chancellor] of Odin.

For over three centuries, this man has lived in faithful servitude to his god and master. He doesn’t look a day over forty.

The city he stares down on is called Aesir, named for Odin and those who serve him. He looks out at the vibrant city a moment longer, contemplating, before turning away. His piercing gray eyes scan the room, ignoring the several high-level [Assassins] hidden within his chambers. He walks over to his seat, a throne more suited to [Kings] than a religious leader, and sits down, eyes settling on the double doors with expectation.

The doors open and an [Archpriest] enters his chambers. The man, short with curly long hair, steps forward kneels.

“You summoned me, [Grand Chancellor]?”

The [Grand Chancellor]’s eyes focus on the [Archpriest], taking measure of the man before him.

“[Archpriest] Jacob, tell me … how are the new [Heroes] progressing? I heard three of ours died to bring these four.”

The man looks up, avoiding eye contact with the grand chancellor. “We were unprepared for the costs of summoning multiple [Heroes]. We have yet to see if they will be useful, but our nine remaining [Archmages] will still serve us well.”

He stops … choosing his words carefully. “The deaths of the [Archmages] were… an unanticipated loss. When the [Assassins] entered the chamber to kill the [Heroes], we ended the threat before they could. We did not hire the contact Carpe Diem, as we thought the threat had been mitigated.”

The [Grand Chancellor] nodded, recalling the name. Carpe Diem is a noble house from a neighboring kingdom, their bloodline valued for possessing the [Resurrection] skill. The house had fallen into decline due to assassinations and political maneuvering. With only a few members left, their services are astronomically expensive.

“Raise your head [Archpriest]. It is no fault of yours. The manipulations of the dishonorable Olympians led to the mana costs increasing.” He shakes his head, a sad smile on his face. “Four [Heroes] is not the seven we planned for. We should lament the loss of six rather than three, but we must be thankful we did not lose more. Tell me, how are the new arrivals?”

The [Archpriest] nodded, his confidence returned and fear of punishment forgotten. “Yes, the [Heroes], two women and two men, are well. They do indeed have the [Hero] class—we checked using [Advanced Analyze]—but one of them …” the [Priest] goes silent.

“Speak freely.”

“The one named Franky has been acting … He doesn’t act like the others. While the other three were attempting to make sense of the situation, he alone remained calm. He doesn’t appear to trust as easily either. It may be harder to steer him on the correct path. I believe we may be forced to collar him.”

A frown forms on the grand chancellor's face. “We cannot. The [Hero] class grants him the ability to rapidly raise the levels of multiple classes at high speeds. With time, they will grow strong enough to aid the gods. If it was so simple to control a [Hero] that we could place a collar on their throats, I would think we would have made a habit of it. Their strength will rapidly exceed that of the collar. Indirect control is the only method we have at our disposal.”

The [Grand Chancellor] leaned forward, looking the [Archpriest] in the eye. “Do not do anything that would make them distrust us. Their loyalty will be needed in the coming times.” The [Grand Chancellor] grimaces, “I fear the wars between Grandon and Donason will escalate quickly and their services will be required.”

The [Archpriest], confused, looks questioningly at the [Chancellor]. “But war is normal for them. Why would this affect us?”

The [Grand Chancellor] stood up and firmly but gently rested his hand upon the [Archpriest]’s shoulder, the man still kneeling. The light from the window spreads out from around him, giving him an illusionary radiance in the eyes of the [Archpriest].

“The two kingdoms have always held similar strength. Neither side has ever fully engaged, for fear of losing too much. 'However, despite an outward appearance of strength, those loyal to us, to Odin, have told me that Grandon has lost their [General].'

“How?” the [Archpriest] asks skeptically. [Generals] tend to be difficult to assassinate, especially when surrounded by powerful soldiers.

The [Grand Chancellor] sighs. “He abandoned his kingdom. [General] Rathos, a master of counter-strategy and adaptability, has disappeared with his daughter. I made plans to contact him, to offer him a chance to see the right side, but he has eluded me.”

“Rathos was the Grandon kingdom’s most powerful and highest level [General]. His loss is a powerful blow to their military strength.” The [Grand Chancellor] goes silent, frowning.

The [Archpriest] ducks his head. “[Grand Chancellor], forgive me, but I do not understand; why would Rathos abandon his [King]? I can only imagine the respect and power that had been bestowed upon him by his [King] and peers.”

“That, Jacob, is only half correct.”

The [Grand Chancellor] raised his hand from where it rested on Jacob’s shoulder and made a strange gesture, almost a flick, towards a table with a decanter. Following his command, a shadowy being emerge from beneath the table and pour two glasses of wine. Lifting the cups, it vanishes and materializes beside the robed men and graciously offers them the beverages.

The [Grand Chancellor] swiftly takes his wine. The [Archpriest] courteously accepts the glass, and with its task completed, the shadow disappears.

“Thank you,” the [Archpriest] politely nods.

“Rathos’s origins are the source of this situation,” the [Grand Chancellor] begins, swishing the liquid around in his goblet, deciding how best to narrate the [General]’s history.

He smiles, eyes staring at his reflection in the wineglass.

He takes a sip before beginning the tale. “Rathos was a humble man, from his beginnings to his demeanor. He began his career as a [Mercenary] in a group known as The Red Wyverns. He gained the class [Mercenary Captain] and took command of the group when  the previous [Mercenary Captain] died in an ambush. Under his leadership, The Red Wyverns rose in prominence, known for using strategy and wit to defeat their foes. After some time, they were contracted by the [King] of Grandon for a year, during which Rathos fell in love with a noblewoman named Nafisa. When the contract ended, Rathos married, left The Red Wyverns, and became a member of the [King]’s army. Over several years, Rathos worked hard until he gained the [General] class after a rather impressive battle.”

The [Grand Chancellor] looked up from his glass to look at Jacob. “That same week, his wife died giving birth to his daughter. Apparently, too many of the [Healers] and [Priests] were being used in the war effort for any to attend her.”

“Rathos blamed himself for her death, believing himself too weak. Because he required so many resources to win, because he needed the [Healers] to save his [Soldiers]. Over the following months, his power rose rapidly, gaining levels and skills that would make defeating him an endeavor of its own.

“While his rise made him popular among [Soldiers] and lesser [Nobles], [King] Stranos began to fear him. Rathos had amassed too much power, too many friends, too high a reputation. It grew to be that Stranos feared a new, powerful faction appearing within the kingdom that would hold massive military and political might.”

“Stranos is no stranger to the bloody power games of [Nobles]. After all, they were how he rose to the throne instead of his siblings. After investigating Rathos, the [King] learned of an old friend of his who had become part of the kingdom, a [Cavalry Knight]. This [Cavalry Knight] had foolishly disobeyed an order from his commanding officer to slaughter a village and was tried for treason. He was summarily executed for his crimes.”

The [Archpriest] looked down at his wine, he didn’t remember finishing his glass.

“So tell me, Jacob, what do you think happened?”

Jacob, quietly contemplating, stares at the glass, paying no mind to his reflection. “[King] Stranos ordered the slaughter and arranged for the [Cavalry Knight] to be there.”

The [Grand Chancellor] nodded, smiling at Jacob while taking another sip of his wine. “Precisely. The [Cavalry Knight] was a strong ally and friend to Rathos, and in what may have been anger or jealousy, [King] Stranos had him killed. Stranos wished for Rathos to lose some of his political strength or make a brash move, but instead, his most powerful [General] abandoned him instead of remaining to fight.”

The [Grand Chancellor] raised his own glass and downed the wine. “Which is why once Donason learns of this, I believe they will launch a new offensive. Grandon may ask for aid from the neighboring kingdoms and Donason will gather their own allies.”

The empty glasses vanish, as though they were never there to begin with. Jacob startles at the suddenness of the disappearance.

“War. War on a scale we have rarely seen before may be coming, Jacob. And opportunity. If we truly become embroiled in this conflict, we must make use of the [Heroes].”

Jacob looks up at the [Grand Chancellor], the voice of Odin. He sees the man’s patient, genial smile and the sharp glint in his eyes. He shivers.

“I will prepare the [Heroes] for training as soon as possible.” He bows his head once more.

The [Archpriest] rose from where he had knelt for the duration of the conversation, bows once more to the [Grand Chancellor], and exits the chamber as quickly as he can without running.

The [Grand Chancellor] remained standing in the center of the room. With no more eyes watching him, his smile spreads from ear to ear.

Soon, he promises himself. Soon, Odin’s plans will come to fruition.

**********************

Spring. The time of thaw, regrowth, and rebirth. The season of beauty and life. Of branches and leaves softly rustling in the wind. Of overcast skies making way for azure dotted with white. A world of color returning, waking from its long slumber.

Within the woods, birds tweet and warble to each other. Animals scurry across the forest floor, searching for food or burrows. The noises of the forest disturbed only by the sound of wooden wheels tumbling forward along a dirt road.'

On the road, several wagons and carriages roll along, escorted by an entire battalion of [Mercenaries]. On the lead carriage, a man sits and chats with another riding on horseback.

“Rathos, I know I’m repeating myself, but are you sure about this? The borderlands aren’t a safe place to raise your daughter.”

Rathos smiles fondly at his old friend, who has finally become a [Mercenary Captain] after many years of hard work.

Rathos scratches his beard, which he had let grow long. “Gen, I told you to call me Roth.”

Gen, a dashingly good-looking man, fit, tall, and sometimes intelligent, rolls his eyes at his former mentor. “Right … like the name Roth clearly doesn’t sound like Rathos. I’m sure nobody would ever think that you might be the missing [General] from Grandon,” he says sarcastically.

Rathos eyes turn to Gen, appraising the relatively middle-aged man. “Gen, how many times have I told you to think before you speak, act, or do?”

Gen’s face quickly turns on a brighter shade as he turns away from Rathos. “Quite a few … almost every day when you were mentoring me.”

Rathos’s mouth twitches upward, remembering how many times he had had to bail out the young [Mercenary] because of his inability to keep his mouth shut.

“Alright then, if someone heard about a supposed [Trader] by the name Roth, a name sounding similar to Rathos, do you believe that people would think that an experienced, high-level [General], who is on the run, would change his name to something so strikingly similar?”

Gen quirks an eyebrow at the man. “I don’t get it. You’ve barely changed your name. It’s similar enough that they’re probably still going to look into you.”

Rathos sighs. “Kingdoms have a limited number of [Spies] at their disposal, Gen. These spies have to pick and choose who to follow and who to ignore. I’ve let my hair grow out, I’ve changed my name, and I’ve given up many of my belongings. I have properly taken the guise of a humble [Trader]. Not only that, but we’re going south.”

Rathos’s eyes look forward, scanning the trees as he watches the birds flutter by.

“There aren’t many powerful people there. The [Lords] and [Ladies] number few, and the average level is about ten among the general populace. Nobody will expect me to move into the borderlands. Even if they did, the Church, much less Stranos, doesn’t have enough resources in the region to make a sufficient search for me.”

Scratching his beard once more, Rathos flicks the reins on the oxen.

“In short, my basic disguise will be enough to slow down attempts to track me until I reach the south. From there, I will make myself scarce until I am forgotten.”

“I … I see, Ra-Roth.” He chuckles at his mistake, then shakes his head. “Maybe I still need more training. You’re a lot better than me about thinking ahead. I guess that's why you’re a [General] while I’m a mere [Mercenary Captain],” he says jokingly.

Rathos smiles as he looks around, watching the 40 something odd [Mercenaries] on horseback.

“Don’t sell yourself short. Your [Mercenaries] are well trained, albeit talkative. You’ve kept them well equipped. They all have good riding skills, which I can only imagine is because you have some skill they take advantage of.” Rathos observes calmly, appraising the [Mercenaries] as he would his [Soldiers], taking note of the differences in demeanor and combat readiness.

Those with the [Mercenary] class are usually slightly stronger than [Soldiers] of the same level because [Mercenary] skills tend to be focused on individual combat and survival. While [Soldiers] gain skills that do the same, they also gain some for dealing with civilians and working in armies, spreading their skills out slightly further. Unfortunately, [Mercenaries] can only upgrade their class to [Mercenary Captain] until they can get a second-tier class.

Gen opens his mouth, hesitates, closes it, and repeats this action several times. Rathos is not one to easily hand out praise on such matters, especially considering the high standards he holds for his own [Soldiers].

The truth is that Rathos does not expect [Mercenaries] to act like [Soldiers]. The strength of [Soldiers] lies in their unity and organization, their ability to work together as one unit. The strength of [Mercenaries] lies in their individual prowess, their ability to act independently.

A few seconds pass as Gen struggles for a proper response, after which he begins chuckling. It doesn’t take long before he covers his mouth to try and muffle the laughter.

“I-I can't,” he says, holding his horse's reins with one hand while the other attempts to cover his mouth.

“Roth, you … Ugh, you just see it all, don’t you?” Gen says with a smile, chuckling softly. “Gods, this feels like old times. Me doing something stupid, you explaining to me how much of an idiot I am. Except for the praise. That's actually pretty new.”

A smile finally forms on Rathos’s face for the first time since he left his kingdom. “You’re still an idiot, Gen. Just a smarter one.”

Gen’s laughter finally peters out. “It's nice to hear you insulting me. Makes me feel all tingly inside.”

“Ughhhh,” Rathos groans, disgusted by the memory Gen has brought up. The last time he said that he and the rest of the company had been forced to abandon the tent due to stench alone.

Gen just smiles cheekily at Rathos, enjoying the unhappy expression on the [General]’s face.

Rathos, smile returning, turns back behind himself and looks through the carriage window, watching Henrietta, a fox demi-human [Slave], gently hold his daughter’s head while she sleeps.

Gen, noticing Rathos looking behind, speaks up.

“For someone who despises the slave trade, you have quite a few of them,” Gen speaks up, pointing towards the wagons following the carriage, all ridden by demi-human [Slaves].

“I still hate slavery,” Rathos responds, “but it’s not something I can do anything about. It’s horrible … what they do to people …” he shakes his head as he turns away from his daughter, looking forward again.

“Kana.”

Rathos quickly straightens, his hands turning to fists as he looks forward, his smile completely gone. “So you did know.”

Gen bites his lip and nods slowly. “When I started working under you, you were always cranky. It always seemed like something was bothering you. When I asked the others, they told me to leave you be.”

Gen places his hand on the back of his neck, eyes roaming the woods. “But that just left me more curious.” Gen sighs. “So instead of not looking into your personal life, I took the boys out for a couple of drinks to loosen their tongues a little…”

Rathos swallows the lump in his throat.

“She was our little [Mercenary] princess. Our pride and joy,” says Rathos, voice thick with emotion. He blinked away tears.

Gen watched wordlessly, mentally cursing himself for bringing it up and making one of the men he admires the most cry.

After a minute, Rathos speaks again.

“Her mother, a sick demi-human catkin, walked up to me with her ten-year-old daughter, her body barely holding together, and she begged. She begged me to take her daughter, to care for her …”

He shakes his head, blinking, tears welling up in his eyes.

“Me, I had just become a new [Mercenary Captain]. I had my own group, my own men … and this random woman saw something in me. She had come up to me, offering her daughter … and I accepted. I don't remember why, but I accepted her.”

"Kana was the pride of my life,"  Rathos smiles sadly, "She was so scared and awkward when I took her in. But I raised her. We raised her. I was so proud of her when she got her [Mercenary] class. She was a prodigy with a sword." He gives a soft chuckle and looked down, a tear clinging to his nose. "None of us ever forgave Jorge for teaching her how to pickpocket.”

"I loved her. The men loved her. For seven years, she was my daughter in all but blood. I let myself believe nothing could go wrong."

Rathos stopped, his eyes turning hard, but tears continued to flow. “All it takes is a moment, Gen. Just a moment of inattentiveness. The worst comes when you least expect it. We were in a new town. I had let the mercs relax while I went to the guildhall for a new job. And then it happened. Kana disappeared.”

“When I couldn’t find her in the morning, we scoured the town for her. Not a trace. It was several days before we learned that a slaving caravan had left the town on the day she vanished.”

Gen listened raptly to Rathos, watching the old man as he told the story.

“So I took my company and we rode hard, following their trail, eventually finding the caravan as they were camping.”

Rathos recalled the scene. The horror. The grief.

The rage.

*******************

“Rathos, we found the caravan! They’re making camp on the other side of the woods, about two miles away. No clear sighting of Kana, but they have several tents.”

Rathos waves his hand, signaling his [Mercenaries] to follow.

With a hard nudge, his horse gallops in the direction his [Scout] had informed him.

Minutes later, Rathos sees the camp. Several wagons surrounded a few large tents while [Guards] patrolled the outskirts. With hard eyes, Rathos galloped into the camp, ignoring the [Guards] as they shouted warnings.

With a quick look about, Rathos rode towards the largest tent, dismounting his horse upon arrival.

“[Slaver]! Get out here NOW!” he roars, his [Loud Voice] echoing through the clearing.

The [Guards] quickly converge around the [Mercenaries], wary of the well-armored group despite their superior numbers.

Tensions rose as a gangly man exits the tent, his disheveled clothes telling Rathos exactly what the man was doing inside.

“What is the meaning of this? Who dares interrupt me!” he screeches, only realizing a moment later who surrounds him and his tent.

“I-um,” he hesitates. “What can I do for you? Is there something you need?”

Rathos eyes the man. “Where is Kana?” he snarls, making the [Slaver] flinch.

“I … I'm not sure who you are talking about.”

Rathos’s arm flicks out, grabbing the gangly man by the robe and lifting him up in the air. “A cat demi-human by the name of Kana was captured by your men! I will have her returned!” he shouts into his face, startling the [Guards]. They raise their weapons, and the [Mercenaries] unsheathe their own in response.

The [Slaver], panicking, starts tapping Rathos’s hand, the robe tightening hard around the man’s neck.

With a sneer, Rathos drops the man, who falls to his knees and gasps. After a few seconds, the [Slaver] recovers his breath and shakily returns to his feet.

He waves at the [Guards], who hesitantly sheathe their weapons, still wary of the [Mercenaries] eyeing them carefully. The [Mercenaries] resheathe their own.

The [Slaver] straightens his robe and slowly bows towards Rathos as one would towards a [Noble].

“I am sure this is merely a misunderstanding. I apologize for any insult, we had gained several cat demi-humans from various towns, so any memory of this Kana eludes me. Could I trouble you for a better description?”

Rathos glares, his hand resting on the pommel of his sword, eyeing the [Slaver] with contempt. “She has a short, white furry tail, and white furry ears. She has a birthmark on the left side of her neck and dark blue eyes.”

The [Slaver] straightened, his eyes moving towards a tent quite a bit farther from his own. “I see, we do indeed have that,” he pauses, reading the situation, “individual.”

Rathos, steps up to the [Slaver]. He flinches away from the [Mercenary Captain]’s unyielding gaze. “Where is she?” Rathos asks slowly.

Swallowing hard, the [Slaver] starts to walk towards a tent. “Yes, I, uh … In here. I will take you to her.”

Rathos follows, fearing the worst.

He enters the tent just behind the [Slaver] and finds a horrid scene.

“This … Kana … nearly escaped.”

Kana lies, draped and staked spread-eagle over a barrel.

“She stole a sword from one of my [Guards] and butchered several of my men.”

Blood and semen coated her crotch and thighs.

“To keep the [Guards] in my employ, I had to let them punish the [Slave] in their own way.”

Her ears were burned off, her eyes were gouged out, her tail had been yanked off.

“I’d hoped they’d leave a salable product when they were done, but they got carried away.”

Kana’s belly, legs, and feet had been whipped and flayed. Blood oozed from her fingertips where her nails used to be.

“Unfortunately, she didn’t weather her punishment well. She died just a bit ago.”

Only Kana’s breasts and the soft fur of her throat remain unmarred except for the bruises of grabbing hands.

“Of course, we will reimburse you. We have several other fine young catkin girls who still have their virginity. I can guarantee the highest qua-Ghuahahaaaaaa …”

The [Slaver]’s eyes widen as Rathos’s sword impaled him through the neck.

Rathos pulled out his sword, allowing the [Slaver]’s corpse to fall to the ground.

He kisses Kana on the forehead, then leaves the tent, his eyes cold and his sword bloody.

***********************************

“Not one of those trash survived that day. We cut through them with barely any difficulty. I lost several [Mercenaries] but, even now, I barely think of the cost. Once we were done, we freed the [Slaves], and we …” Rathos trails off. He closes his eyes. The wind blows softly, rustling the leaves above. He inhales.

“And we buried Kana.” He finally finishes.

Gen’s horse trudged alongside the carriage, Gen’s mind whirling with the story.

Rathos turns to Gen. “I tell you this story, Gen, because you are my friend. When you find someone that you love, that you care about, protect them.” Rathos says, his tears finally stopping but his eyes still wet.

Gen, silent, nods at his mentor’s words, taking them to heart. His eyes turn to the carriage and look to Rathos’s daughter, still sleeping peacefully.

CHAPTER EIGHT

“This is a horrible idea.”

“Probably is.”

“We're going to die.”

“Most likely.”

“I don't want to die.”

“Nobody usually does.”

“So why are we still heading to the fog?.”

Without slowing my pace, I listen to the movements of vast and formless things around me. I do my best to tune out the whining of my companion, the tread of our boots, and the clatter of my undead ...

“WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA”

… and the giant beasts moaning in the fog. I ignore it and focus on the sound of tiny legs scuffling on trees.

It has been following us for a while now.

“Because, as a [Hero], it is my job to jump headfirst into the unknown … and not because a god cryptically told me to 'not to fear the fog.’”

The sound of Jessica's footsteps stop abruptly, but I ignore her and keep walking, listening to the little critter as it jumps from treetop to treetop.

When she notices I’m still walking forward, Jessica sprints past me and blocks my way. Her complexion is slightly better today, the dried fruit and meat helping her regain a bit of color.

“What about me? I'll die if you die!” she says, pointing at my hand that holds the ring binding her collar to me.

I stop walking and stare at her hand before my eyes begin to wander. She really would look a lot better with some meat on her bones. She must have—

With ironclad mental discipline, I cut off that train of thought. ‘What the hell is wrong with my hormones? Did Loki fuck up this body? I feel like a horny teenager all over again.’

Shaking my head, I dispel my sexual thoughts and distract myself with my stats.

Quasi Eludo

Level 14 [Necromancer]

Level 29 [Hero]

Raise Undead

Advanced Analyse

Bone Renewal

Enhanced Undead

Bone Levitate

Advanced Mana Sense

Strength

23

Dexterity

36

Stamina

32(34)

Perception

235

Endurance

14

Vitality

227(229)

Mana

700(1000)

M/regen

2.3(3.83)

Affinity

13

Intelligence

435(545)

Willpower

3047

Soul

4143

Robe of the Undead Caller (Rare): Halves all mana regeneration penalties for undead upkeep.

Ring of House Kizor (Rare): +0.1 Mana regen, +200 Mana, +2 Vitality, +2 Stamina, +10 Intelligence.

Ring of Enhanced Mana Regeneration(Legendary): Mana Regeneration +20%, +1 Mana regen.

Necklace of Rejuvenation (Rare): Applies passive buff [Minor Regeneration]

Staff of Dark Blood (Legendary): Reduces cost of dark spells by 18%, +100 intelligence, greater durability. Special Skill: Absorb blood to supply spells with mana (+100 mana per liter).

Dagger of Bloodletting (Uncommon): An enchanted dagger that prevents blood from clotting.

Necklace of the Slaver (Common): +50 Willpower on [Slaves].

Ring of Enslavement (Uncommon): Connects to a Collar Of Enslavement. Ability to restrict skill usage of a [Slave]. Ability to know the exact location of a [Slave]. Ability to end the life of a [Slave]. If the ring is not worn for over three hours, the [Slave] will be killed by their collar.

‘Alright, so my mana stat seems to have increased with my [Necromancer] Level. Like 20 mana per level. Seems decent, I think. It’s not like I have anyone to compare to right now. The [Hero] class seems to be doing absolutely nothing though.’

“Hey, Jessica? I have a question.”

Her eyebrows lower and she frowns as I completely ignore her question.

“The [Hero] class, I don’t seem to be gaining anything from it even after several levels. My [Necromancer] class is giving me bonus mana, intelligence, and [Skills]. What’s the deal?”

Blinking rapidly, a frown forms on her face. “I … am not sure. The stories say that those with the [Hero] class always become Named people.”

‘Named people …’

“Jessica, you're forgetting that I'm not from this world. What the heck is a Named person?”

Her eyes widen. “Oh! I’m sorry.” She blushes. “A Named person is someone whose strength is unrivaled.”

Does she mean the Strength stat? Or is it some kind of system achievement?

I sigh. While her being scatterbrained does make it easy to distract her, it also makes it harder for me to get anything of substance from my questions. “Can you please go into more detail?” I ask, rubbing my forehead.

Looking towards the ground, she quickly moves the hood from her robes over her head, covering her face.

‘She’s embarrassed because she’s panicking around me … which is making her panic harder, and then get more embarrassed and … Well, I’ve found myself quite the companion.’

“Named people are individuals who have gained enough levels in their class or classes that they are powerful enough to rival an army.”

‘Armies …’ I ponder. ‘Shit, I guess my plan to create an undead army to rule the world isn’t going to be enough. Well, if it takes a fuck-ton of levels to become Named, then I guess it’ll be easier for me since I can train several classes without penalty due to the [Hero] class.’

“Well, that’ll be useful to know,” I say to Jessica. I crack my neck, a nasty habit I gained when I was younger, and turn around towards the trees.

“Now then,” I call out, my eyes moving toward the branch the critter was hiding behind. “I know you've been following me. I noticed you when I first slaughtered those [Mages] …”

Jessica flips back her hood and looks about for a moment before she spots it as well. “Spider!” she shouts as the spider the size of my fist crawls down a branch and reveals itself.

I ignore her. The instinctual disgust factor of large bugs loses its effect once you’ve had to deal with nests of dog-sized ones. I extend my hand out and open my palm.

I feel an odd sense of camaraderie with the spider, like he’s not exactly a friend, but an ally. It’s probably Loki’s fault.

“Look,” I address the little guy, “I’m going to enter the mist. You can either follow behind me like a love-struck stalker, or you can come down here and we can travel together like mature adults. Choose.”

The spider watches me, its eight red eyes staring, analyzing me.

‘Intelligent.’ I note.

Seemingly coming to some sort of conclusion, the spider crouches and leaps, traveling several meters before landing perfectly on my hand.

‘Weird. It’s covered in black fur. I don't think that's normal for spiders. Ah, well. Magic worlds. What can you do?’

“Got a name?” I ask, curious If it can communicate somehow.

The spider blinks, taps its legs on my palm for a second, and then scurries up my arm. It finds a place on my shoulder, where the spider tattoo is located.

“Okay, fine. I’m calling you Peter,” I tell it.

Turning around, I see Jessica with her mouth agape and eyes watching the spider with fear.

“Jessica, this is Peter,” I say, pointing towards the spider. “Peter, this is Jessica.”

The spider lifts one of its legs up and waves it back and forth, causing Jessica’s eyes to widen further.

After what feels like an eternity, a single word, barely audible, escapes from her mouth.

“Why?”

“That's a deep question, Jessica. Why? Why anything? Why are we here? Why were we born? Why were we sent here by gods to fulfill their sick fetishes? The answer, Jessica, is very simple.”

I smile at her. "I don't know."

I hear her footsteps behind me.

“That spider—”

“Peter,” I quickly interject.

“What is Peter?” she asks hesitantly.

I shrug my shoulders.

“Not sure. Seems like a very smart spider. Been a while since I’ve seen one this furry.”

“Fur? It has fur?” she asks from behind, finally noticing that its body isn't like any spider she had seen before.

“Yes, Peter has fur. It seems to be pretty soft, but I haven’t checked yet. It’s not smart to pet the guy with massive fangs right next to your neck without permission. Not sure what he was doing here, but I think he's related to the spider tattoo on my shoulder.”

Jessica sharply inhales. “You have several marks.”

“Marks?” I ask, my eyes still focused forward.

“Marks are placed upon the bodies of people who are the servants of a god,” she explains, before pointing at herself. “I have one on my lower neck of a white raven. It is the sign of the goddess Eir.”

‘Interesting …’ I mull it over. ‘So those balls Loki threw at my new body were the marks of gods?’

“Well, I have a spider and a wolf mark on my shoulders. My lower back has some kind of image of a fox, though it’s hard for me to see. My upper back has some weird circle things and my legs have feathers.”

“Oh, and I have no idea who the gods related to them are. The system isn’t telling me shit.” I add.

Silence passes for several moments as she thinks. I focus my attention on the spider and what [Advanced Analyze] had to say about it.

‘What the hell is a [Scion of Anansi]? Scion is like “son”, right? Descendent? Fuck, I’m not a word guy.’

I focus on the little enigma. ‘And Anansi sounds like an African god … which it actually could be considering my patron god is probably Loki. That spider mark on my shoulder might mean I’m also a servant of Anansi … This just gets weirder and weirder.’

“The only god’s mark I am familiar with is the one with the feathers by your feet. That is quite clearly the mark of the god Hermes. The spider and wolf I don’t know of. The fox seems like it could be related to the goddess Kumiho, but her mark hasn’t been seen for centuries.”

“And the mark on my back?” I ask curiously, considering the sheer size of the thing when compared to the other marks.

“I haven't seen the mark, so I can't tell. You would have to show me.”

‘I’m sure you would like that, wouldn’t you?’

I scowl. I’m way too freaking horny right now.

“I’ll show you later. The visibility is about to get bad,” I say as I stop right in front of what seems to be an invisible force keeping the fog from spreading any further.

“What? Oh. Oh no,” she mumbles the last part, realizing how close we are. Kind of surprising it took her this long, but she is scatterbrained.

“This …this is a horrible idea!” she repeats. Rolling my eyes, I turn back to look at her. Her eyes shone with a desperate desire to survive, to do anything but enter the ominous gray before us.

I turn back towards the fog and step through the barrier.

For several seconds I stand there, letting the cool mist wash over me. I wait a few moments but nothing seems to happen. It’s just fog. Well, there is the feeling of powerful energy pushing against my soul, a feeling akin to standing in the realms of the gods, but it’s probably nothing.

I take a step back out of the fog  and smile at Jessica.

“See? It’s fine. I’m not dead yet, so let’s go!” I reenter the fog, this time with my undead.

A second later Jessica quickly runs up next to me. She grabs the edge of my robe and doesn’t let go. Though I’m not looking at her, it’s not hard to imagine the look of fear on her face.

I continue onwards into the haze, a content smile on my face. Despite the bad visibility, I can make out the surroundings surprisingly well. The ground beneath my feet is nothing but dirt and rock. I can’t see any trees. The only thing of interest are the skeletons littered everywhere.

Not undead, just dead, as though they just fell over and died. No marks show they were killed or eaten. The only things left behind are metal items, all of which are rusted beyond recognition. Even my [Advanced Analyze] skill won’t work on them.

I hear something fall to the ground behind me.

I abruptly stop and turn towards the source of the noise. It’s Jessica, collapsed face-first on the dirt. I crouch down while scanning my surroundings and feel her neck. There’s still a pulse.

‘Well, this is weird. She’s just passed out.’

Feeling a disproportionate weight on my shoulder, I turn my head and am greeted with the sight of a mess of webs keeping a passed-out spider stuck to my shoulder.

Unbidden comes the memory of a past life, in which I saw a group of mist-like ghosts swarm a castle.

Frowning, I call up the system log.

Anima Nebula casts [Soul Sleep]

War of Souls activated.

4000 vs 4143

[Soul Sleep] resisted.

Anima Nebula casts [Soul Sleep]

War of Souls activated.

4000 vs 4143

[Soul Sleep] resisted.

Anima Nebula casts [Soul Sleep]

War of Souls activated.

4000 vs 4143

[Soul Sleep] resisted.

And the same message repeats, over and over.

‘I barely made it through that one. No wonder everyone here is dead, you need an incredibly strong soul just to stay awake.

Sighing, I lift her up and toss her over my left shoulder, the one that Peter isn’t attached to, and continue walking deeper into the mist, my unaffected undead marching behind.

____

As I travel further, the number of skeletons and random bones decreases drastically. More ominously, however, are the wails of the massive beasts flying above me getting louder

One such beast, the size of a galleon, dips far enough downwards that I can analyze it.

Anima Nebula- Level 200.

Created by the dungeon INAEQUO, these massive beasts fly through the air, negating gravity and constantly spewing a cloud that causes those who inhale to be afflicted with [Soul Sleep].

‘INAEQUO …? That's a weird name for a dungeon. Of course, I don’t know dungeon naming conventions. Sounds Latin … And those things are pretty high level. Good thing they aren't aggressive, otherwise I would probably be dead …’

The fog continued to grow thicker and thicker. Soon, I can only see a few feet in any direction. The only way I know I’m still walking in the same direction is through senses honed over countless years.

Over the next few several hours, the fog grew even thicker that I can no longer see anything below my waist.

“I know you can’t hear me, Jessica, but thank god you're not heavy,” I say aloud, the weird mental moaning of the beasts starting to get to me.

After several more hours, I start to consider giving up. I can’t see anything, this can’t be healthy for either Jessica or Peter, and I don’t even know what I’m looking for. As I start to think that following a trail of skeleton bones into a murderous fog was a bad idea, the fog begins to dissipate. In the distance it looked like the end of the fog. I double my pace and pass the threshold of something that seems to keep the fog away. A moment after escaping the mist, my eyes are once more obscured, however, by a system notification.

You have entered the Dungeon INAEQUO.

As the first party to ever enter this dungeon, you are awarded increased leveling speed until you choose to leave.

Welcome, mortals.

CHAPTER NINE

“That’s him?” Zorren whispers, staring at the creature that entered the dungeon, an occurrence unheard of.

“Yes, he passed through the fog carrying the girl on his shoulder.” His companion hesitates. “I think the undead is tamed and following him. I didn’t know that was possible.”

Zorren merely grunts, acknowledging the [Scout]’s observation.

Zorren’s slitted pupils contract as he tries to guage the man’s strength.

“What are their classes, their levels?” he asks with a groan. His scales, scarred and marred with age and battle, don’t take well to him lying flat on the rough ground.

The [Scout], young and still unused to her work, shifts in place. She finds their vantage point uncomfortable as well, but her scales have not suffered the same way as Zorren’s.

“It’s weird … The girl on his shoulder is a low level [Priestess], the undead is level 87, I can’t see anything about the man.” She sighs. “My [Analyze] doesn’t work on him, and neither do any of my other skills. It’s like he’s not even there.”

Zorren can feel it; the faint threat, a smell of danger. He could rush out now, leap down the cliff, and hack and slash the man to pieces. The undead would barely slow him down. No one, not even the [Scout] beside him, would be able to stop him.

He crushes the errant idea with his [Iron Will]. No. Not today. Not ever.

“I need you to go back to the city and tell them a dangerous man has entered the dungeon. I need the best fighters to join me.”

She turns to look at him, eyes betraying her apprehension.

“Zorren, he doesn't look strong at all. I don't see any armor or weapons on him,” she says, frowning. Despite the dark, the two can see each other’s expressions clearly thanks to their species’ high perception and excellent night vision.

The slight irks Zorren. A low-level [Scout] questioning his decision? If his tail had not been cut off, it would be swishing with displeasure.

But, like before, his [Iron Will] skill helps him suppress the rage.

“Do not question me, Tessa. You were right in telling me first. Some of the others might have tried to pick a fight and died for their troubles.”

Perking up, Tessa turns her gaze away from the stranger and looks at the level 173 [Berserker]. She notices that his scarred muscles are tensed, ready for action. “I … Why do you think he’s dangerous?” she asks, wanting to know why she’ll be raising the alarm.

Zorren bites back a curse upon noticing her questioning gaze. His eyes stop to linger a moment longer on where his arm should be. ‘Damn his arm! Damn his tail!’ Even though he can take on anyone in the city, they still look down on him for not dying in battle like he should have.

‘Idiots, all of them,’ he thinks to himself.

“That man, though he seems weak, his posture is outright perfect. His eyes are roaming, constantly analyzing his surroundings. His arm, the one not caressing the female’s butt, is hidden within his robe, probably within reach of a hidden weapon. If you notice, his every step is silent, but each one is placed flat on the ground. This is a sign of great footwork and should allow him to react to any threat. That man is very experienced and someone even I should be wary of.”

Tessa stares at Zorren and nods. She understands. With practiced ease, she crawls back down the boulder.

Zorren, turning away from the man, watches her leave. Her skill, [Silent Movement], allowed her to move at great speeds with a bare minimum of sound.

After she disappeared around a corner, his gaze returns to the man.

“Hellooooo giant lizard guy! I'm Quasi!” he calls out to Zorren from afar, smiling directly at him from a considerable distance away, waving his arm in the air.

__________________________________________________________

An hour after I entered the dungeon, I found myself descending into a giant hole. I was surrounded by walls of fog on all sides and down seemed like the only way to go, so, down I went. It wasn’t long after that I was spotted by some sort of lizard woman with a [Scout] class.

She had looked at me strangely, then immediately ran away, oblivious to the fact that my new eyes let me see at least a mile in the darkness.

As she ran, I took the opportunity to check her level, which was 37. A reasonable number, which, if an altercation were to happen, I was quite confident in my ability to handle. I could probably take on several dozen individuals of her level … though maybe not at the same time.

About some time later, as I mindlessly wandered down the dark underground chasm, she had returned with what seemed to be a male member of her species.

A bit disappointed that my welcoming party was only one person, I had activated my skill and analyzed the man.

Then I shat bricks.

‘A fucking level 173 [Berserker]! Shit, shit, shit! This might end badly.’

Panicking internally, I continued to weigh his class and overall stats, which are quite impressive compared to mine.

Zorren

Level 173 [Berserker]

Zorren is a veteran warrior of the gejan. He has lost his tail and the use of his arm after failing to save those he was tasked with protecting. Now he lives in shame. The only reason his presence remains tolerated is because of his level.

Strength

93

Dexterity

28

Stamina

147

Perception

73

Endurance

54

Vitality

120

Mana

110

M/regen

0.5

Affinity

0

Intelligence

73

Willpower

321

Soul

260

Tail Loss: The tail of a gejan is a note of pride for the people, but more so than pride, it helps in balance. -20 Dexterity

Unusable Arm: Having lost an arm, effective strength has been reduced. -20% Strength

‘He’s a fucking tank. A huge-ass tank on legs. He could take his big hand and pull my head off like ripping tissue paper. Or he could just chuck a car at me. I can’t even tell if his species is strong or if he’s just really strong. Ugh, didn’t Jessica say something about level 100 being a huge milestone for power?’

With a silent sigh, I decide that the moment Jessica wakes up, I’m going to grill her for information, something I should have done before marching into the fog.

At this moment, the female gejan crawls off the boulder and walks away.

‘Probably to get support,’ I determine. ‘I guess I should introduce myself before I get buttfucked by a swarm of overly high-level lizard people.’

“Hellooooo giant lizard guy! I'm Quasi!” I call out, momentarily taking my hand off Jessica’s butt to wave at him.

The gejan stands up, cracks his neck, and lifts up a massive piece of carved bone hidden next to him.

‘Because only the greatest idiots wouldn’t have brought a weapon with them.’

I give the massive bone club a measuring look.

‘Yeah, no need to throw cars when your weapon’s heavier than your enemy. Nothing is ever fair.’

The gejan glares down at me, then bends his knees and jumps off, falling ten stories and denting the ground upon landing.

‘Five points for height, three points for impact and effect, but I’ll have to deduct a point for not making a fist when he landed …’ I pause, considering. ‘Well, to be fair, he does only have one working arm.’

Only wearing what looked to be leather pants, the scaled and scarred man squints at me menacingly, his posture ready to react to any threat.

“What are you?” he asks, slit snake-like eyes trained on me with an impressive amount of concentration. His tongue darts out to taste the air.

‘He’s pretty good. Eyes focused, solid stance, and, unlike the shitty land [Pirate] I fought, is doing a great job at hiding his fighting style.’

Slowly lowering Jessica’s body on the floor, I keep my eyes on the gejan for even the slightest muscle twitch.

But the gejan does nothing, just watches me as I lower her body on the ground, his eyes not leaving my own the entire time.

‘Well, kudos for not attacking me while I put down the liability.’

I sigh. “You know, it’s common courtesy to introduce yourself first, but I guess I’ll humor you.”

I take a short bow, eyes still locked with his. “I am Quasi Eludo, human, [Hero], and soon to be ruler of the world.”

At the last bit, his eyes squint, watching me with a slight bit of anger.

‘Right, the extremely irritated berserker doesn’t like jokes, even if that wasn’t one. There goes my plan for charming him. He doesn’t seem to care about the [Hero] class either, so leveraging that won’t do anything.’

“How did you arrive here?” he asks, voice slightly frosty.

Groaning internally, I reply back.

“Is this going to be one of those ‘you ask questions, I answer back’ situations? I mean really, that seems rather unfair. You should let me ask occasionally as well. Like… what your favorite color is. Or what you ate for breakfast. Or how yo—”

“Quiet,” he growls out, his muscles clenching as though physically holding himself back from hacking me to bits. “Answer my question or I will end your life!”

Rolling my eyes, enjoying his anger, I smile cheekily at him. “Really now, and how are you going to do something like that?”

He takes a step forward.

I cast a spell several dozen times at once.

Bone shivs I had sharpened cut their way out of Mule’s pack and into the air. They swerve down to rest beside me, floating in the air in clear defiance of gravity, with all the sharp ends pointed toward mister rage lizard.

The gejan immediately takes a couple of steps back, his face taking on a grim expression. Rage has been replaced with apprehension, perhaps with a mix of fear.

With another thought, the knives spread out around him, allowing no easy avenue for escape.

The gejan swerves his head quickly, his tongue tasting the air fervently, trying to keep all the shards of bone in vision, but he quickly learns that all of his blind spots are covered.

Smiling confidently, I raise my arm. Mule grabs my staff from the now thoroughly torn-up bag and places it in my hand.

‘Wish I had this before I burned more than half my mana.’

The gejan glares at me and changes his stance. His lips curl back to bare his sharp teeth, making him look almost bestial with his lizardy face.

‘Really? A charging posture? Yeaaaaaah, that's not going to work.’

With another mental poke, the bone shards start to spin, slowly accelerating faster and faster.

“WHAT IS GOING ON HERE!?”

An abysmally loud voice interrupts us, making me flinch.

‘Agh, what the hell!?’

Turning my head, I see several dozen gejan making their way towards us from the cliff. The leader, an older gejan lady with a staff, glares angrily at me.

‘I don’t have the mana for this shit.’

Raising my hand, I point at the gejan I was fighting.

“He started it!” I shout.

The woman, unamused, turns her head and looks at the gejan I was planning to turn into a pincushion.

The others of her kind just watch, their weapons, though made of crude bone, are out and ready to react to threats, though fear and uncertainty can be seen clearly on their faces.

‘At least I think it's fear. I’m not the best at reading giant lizard people expressions … Yet.’

The tall woman with the staff stares at me intently, perhaps scanning me with a skill.

‘I can do that too. [Advanced Analyze].’

Advanced Analyze Partially Successful.

Anathema

Level 132 [Geomancer]

Current leader of the gejan, feared and respected for her earth manipulation abilities among a people not naturally skilled with magic. In that sense, her prowess could be considered a once-in-a-century talent.

‘Partially successful? That's a thing??? Fuck, at least I know her name.’

“Why are you here?” she asks, watching my every move.

“Get stronger, get soldiers, and rule the world.”

She blinks rapidly. “How did you enter this dungeon?” she asks with an amused smile.

I smile back. I have a guess at what she’s doing.

“I’m over nine thousand years old.”

The silence that descends is almost palpable. The other gejan seem to be either shocked or annoyed by this answer. They most likely believe I’m lying, but all are waiting for Anathema to speak.

Sure enough, she just chuckles and nods. “Last question then: Do you have any ill will or plans to harm me or my people?”

Understanding the question, the bone shards around Zorren stop spinning and make their way back into Mule’s pack … I’ll need to fix that later.

Once all of the shards have returned, I face Anathema once more. “I have no plans or reasons to harm your people. On the contrary, I could use your assistance.”

Anathema nods, her smile unwavering. “Good.” She turns to Zorren. “It seems he has no ill will towards us, so please put your weapon down.”

She turns around to speak with the others behind her. “This man here,” she begins and points at me.

“Quasi!” I interject, hoping that when they tell tales of my awesomeness, they’ll remember my name.

She chuckles softly.

“Yes, Quasi here, is henceforth an honored guest. No harm shall come to him so long as he remains as such. Is that understood?” she says, adding that last sentence with a bit of force.

The other gejan quickly nod in unison and sheathe their weapons. They still seem apprehensive about me, but their boss’s commands seem to hold a lot of sway over them.

Looking back at Zorren, I see his anger has barely abated despite lowering his club.

With a cheeky smile, I wave my hand at him.

“Quasi!” Anathema yells from a few feet from me, gaining my attention.

‘How the hell did she get so close without me hearing her? I’m pretty sure I have super hearing or something.’

“Please behave yourself around Zorren; his [Berserker] class makes him easy to anger.”

‘Yeah, I noticed. Seems like a massive weakness to me.’

“Sorry, Anathema, I have a tendency to anger those around me,” I tell her.

Flicking her tail, she frowns, only to be replaced with a smile. “I see you have the skill [Advanced Analyze]. I guess it should be expected of someone like yourself.” Her eyes flick towards my undead. “And what is your class, if you don't mind me asking? It seems to me that my own [Analyze] skill does not work on you.”

‘Is that a personal question? I really should ask Jessica if it's a good idea to disclose classes. Oh well.’

“I’m both a [Necromancer] and [Hero].”

Her expression switches back to a thoughtful frown as she continues staring at my undead. “Interesting … I have never heard of either of those classes. I imagine the [Necromancer] class allowed you to manipulate this undead and those bones … but what is the [Hero] class?” she asks curiously.

Smiling back at her, I bend down and pick up Jessica’s limp body. “That is the key to everything! It’s the class which will allow me to rule the world.” I say, tossing sleeping beauty back over my shoulder, my hand clamping her ass once more.

Anathema just nods slowly, her gaze lingering on Jessica, but changing to Zorren as the muscle-bound man makes his way towards us, glaring at me the entire time.

“Anathema, are you sure about this? He came from outside! We do not know his motives,” he says, making eye contact with her.

Swishing her tail in displeasure, she meets his glare. “Do not question me, Zorren. Especially not here! I have decided to accept him into our city and you will respect my decision!” she says icily.

‘Oh, there’s some juicy history there.’

Zorren tightens the hold of his weapon, staring at Anathema for a long moment.

He sighs.

“Fine … but he will have someone to keep an eye on him. I understand you have your [Sense Lie] skill but I still don't trust him.”

‘Well, looks like my guess was correct.’

Anathema nods, turning towards me. “I don’t suppose any of those restrictions will be a problem for you?”

Nodding slowly, my mind is distracted by the general stats of the gejan compared to human ones, which I guess are ten on average.

“Perfect. Now, let's head home.” Anathema tells the group, tapping the ground with her tail.

As one, the gejan start walking. I follow beside Anathema, Zorren walks on her other side, and Mule follows the three of us.

____

The trek to the gejan city was actually quite a boring experience. Anathema, the leader of the gejan, had asked me to keep silent until we reached their city.

I had agreed after she had told me about the blind predators that roam the dungeon’s first floor. These predators, though weak individually, fight in groups large enough that they might kill one or two if they happen upon us.

Thus, I spent the next several hours of the walk analyzing all of the gejan, taking mental notes on  their classes and trying to get a feel for the average strength around here.

Overall, their stats are about double that of a human’s, while certain stats, like Strength and Endurance, are actually triple.

The only notable weakness, if it is one, is that they do not have any affinities.

I have no idea what that means.

“We’re here.”

Breaking out of my thoughts, I realize that we are nearing the city gates. I am simultaneously impressed and disappointed.

A stalactite juts down from the ceiling 200 feet above us, so massive it just barely seems to touch the ground where the city has formed. Houses have been cut into the unnatural-looking structure, suffused with an iridescent white light seemingly emanating from the point the inverted mountain touches the ground. Around the base, a comparatively short wall of fifteen meters stands tall.

Despite the crudeness and simplicity of many of the structures displayed, I’m intrigued by the scale of it all. At the same time, I can’t help but think of how easy it would be to keep launching rocks at the stalactite until it all comes crashing to the ground under its own weight.

As we approach the gates, my eyes can't help but notice the illumination.

“Are you using the light from that rock to deter monsters?”

From the corner of my eye, I watch Anathema smile gently, seemingly happy to be home.

“That’s correct. The light blinds them, but that is not why we had built our city around it. The illumination comes from the dungeon stone.”

I turn my head away from the city to look at Anathema, noticing how polished her gray scales are under the light. “I don't suppose you could explain to me what a dungeon stone is … actually, I have a lot of questions that need answering.”

She nods her head, eyes still ahead. “I will answer that and your other questions once we are in the city. As for the dungeon stone, it is the way we gain classes.”

‘Right, classes. I gained one from rapeball, which probably wasn't the ‘correct’ way to access the system … I have a lot of questions to ask Jessica when she wakes up.’

Before I can squeeze any more information out of Anathema, we reach the entrance. At the entrance, two gejan [Guards] wearing nothing but leather shorts stand guard. They glance at me curiously, but allow our armed group to pass without a word.

Once inside the city's walls, I am treated with a curious realization. The gejan do not have any form of unnatural light source nor anything that could properly be used as one like wood. Instead, the’ve developed a workaround through the usage of stone.

Patches of shaped stone, polished perfectly to reflect the light, can be seen everywhere. Across the city is a dull glow perpetuated by intercrossing light beams.

The homes, which are almost entirely made of stone, are decorated lavishly with carved bones and strings of leather, giving it a sort of tribal vibe.

Looking around, I notice a great deal of young gejan children hiding behind structures, watching me with curiosity.

As we walk deeper into the city, more and more of the gejan start to show up, looking at me curiously, whispering amongst themselves as I pass by. Many even begin to follow us.

Only when we get to a set of stairs going upwards do we all stop. Anathema turns around, first looking at me and then at the procession.

“In five cycles, I will have a declaration made,” she announces. “For now, return to your homes.”

The gejan seem to accept her words and the crowd disperses, only giving me and Mule a few final glances before leaving.

‘Something is seriously wrong here. Why are they just leaving me alone with Anathema and the cripple? They know what I can do, don't they care about their leader’s safety?’

Anathema turns towards Zorren. The scarred [Berserker] just looks at her and shakes his head.

Her tail swishes in displeasure. “Zorren, I will be fine. Go home! I’ll find someone to watch him before I visit you.”

Zorren’s gaze seems to soften as he looks at her. He closes his eyes and takes a breath. When he opens them, his eyes are hard once again.

“Fine, but be careful. The gejan need you.”

Anathema smiles and nods.

The [Berserker] turns to face me. “If anything happens to her, I will hunt you down and tear you limb from limb.”

And with that final statement he walks away.

Rolling my eyes, I watch him leave. Not once during our entire journey did he ever loosen his hold on his massive bone club. Even now, as he goes, his hand grips it tightly.

“Zorren has gone through a lot. He hasn’t always been so aggressive,” she whispers to me. “And now, I fear it may get worse.”

Turning back to her, I can’t help but admire her curves, so reminiscent of a woman in tight clothing.

Minus the chest, which is flat as a board.

She looks at me, her amber eyes seeming to pierce through me and see my thoughts.

‘Right, horniness. Again. Can’t seem to help it.’

Shaking her head, she turns towards the stairs.

“My home is above. I will have a room prepared for you.”

Nodding, I follow her upwards, idly staring at her behind which is now directly at eye level.

‘I fucking hate you, Loki. I’d have taken erectile dysfunction over this shit.’

After a minute of climbing and several mental curses towards my most-favored god, we finally arrived at a large, extremely well-decorated, dwelling.

At the entrance of the dwelling waits a certain [Scout].

“Tessa!” Anathema calls out, her long tail swishing furiously behind her. “I am very upset with you right now.”

The [Scout], Tessa, quickly lowers her head, her tail curling up behind her.

“Mother, I'm … I'm sorry.”

Widening my eyes, I take a better look at Tessa, noticing the similarity of the two.

‘Damn, I'd bone them both. I bet those tails would be pretty kinky.’

Both women immediately turn to me, Anathema smiling cheekily, Tessa blushing furiously.

‘Fuck my hormones. Are they reading my thoughts? Am I that obvious?’

“Ohhh, well isn’t this interesting,” Anathema coos, turning towards her daughter.

"Tessa, I have told you time and time again to follow directions. When you find something that could be harmful to the city, you notify the [Guards], not Zorren," she explains, staring at her daughter who attempts to avoid her mother's gaze.

A gaze looking more devious than upset.

"As your punishment, you will be guarding Quasi here for several cycles."

Tessa looks between me and her mother, her tail tightening around her leg.

“Yes, mother.”

“Good.” Anathema turns to me. “Tessa will take you to one of my empty rooms. If there's anything you need, please ask her.”

‘Did she just stress the word ‘anything’?’

I nod slowly. “I have many problems I hope she can help me with.”

“I’m sure you do, but the cycle is ending soon,” she says, her eyes moving towards the dungeon stone, “At cycle start, I will answer all of your questions. Will that be ok?”

‘Well, technically I’m not in a rush … and what the hell is a cycle?’

“That will be fine,” I answer back.

“Perfect. I must do some errands. Please make yourself at home.”

And with that, she turns back and makes her way back down the stairs.

As her form disappears, I face Tessa, who freezes up under my gaze.

‘Well, time to solve some problems.’

CHAPTER TEN

“YOU DID WHAT?!” Zorren bellows, slamming his hand against the table. The subject of his ire, Anathema, calmly drinks from her gourd.

Anathema ignores the [Berserker], enjoying the fruity drink. It’s a rare and expensive commodity on the first floor, as it comes from a plant on the second level of the dungeon.

“Ana! You’re putting Tessa in danger! That man can’t be trusted,” he seethes through gritted teeth.

Flicking her tongue out, Anathema places her cup on the table, irritated with the man's overprotective nature.

“Zorren, stop being so untrusting. I can read that man as clear as water. His aura, though abysmally dense, is so untrained that he can’t hide his feelings.” She smiles and chuckles. “Just a bit ago, before I left him, he had wanted to mate with both me and my daughter! It was flattering, in its own way.”

Zorren stares at his longtime friend, unable to fathom her personality at times like these.

“You left a crazed, horny, whatever he is, alone with your only daughter?!”

Anathema smiles. “I suppose I did. How likely do you think he will be able to impregnate her? Ah, I do wish to be a grandmother.”

Zorren’s scales pale. He places his only good hand on his face, elbow on the table, keeping himself upright.

Taking a few calming breaths, he speaks.

“What are you planning, Ana?”

Anathema, enjoying the defeat in Zorren’s tone, picks up her gourd and takes another sip. “Well, he wants to rule the world and we want to escape this prison. And if the Kitsune are to be believed, then this man is their savior.”

“Kitsune … I don’t like them.”

Rolling her slitted eyes, Anathema takes a sip of her gourd, “I know. I, however, am the one who trained and lived with them. Though they are small in number, they are old and wise. They believe that their god’s champion will come to free them from captivity,” she states. She pauses, admiring the patterns on her gourd. “I believe Quasi is their champion.”

Zorren lets his hand drag down his face. His tongue flicks out. “And what is it that you want from me?” he asks, sensing a request.

Anathema smiles. “Oh, nothing too challenging. Just lead him to the sixth floor.”

At those words, Zorren’s posture changes, straightening, his eyes glinting with new life.

“You are finally allowing me to return?”

Anathema nods, her eyes going cold. “We haven’t heard from the expedition in—”

“Which you refused to allow me to investigate,” Zorren interrupts her.

“Only because we need you. We sent our strongest to create a foothold in preparation to go deeper. Despite your strength, I kept you behind to help train the next group to make the journey. I know how much you worry for your daughter, but our species must come first.”

“You know nothing!” Zorren hisses at her. “I’ve been pushing for us to make the journey down for months now, and now? We can go just because of this outsider?”

“No, Zorren!” she shouts, her voice reinforced with aura. After a moment, she calms and she retracts her aura. “You will be guiding the next generation of our people.”

Zorren stops, not because of the aura, to which he is immune, courtesy of his class, but at the mention of the word ‘generation’. “What’s happening, Ana?”

“I …” She hesitates. “I think this is our last chance. The dungeon has been getting more and more dangerous. I’ve noticed this, the kitsune have too. The monster levels in the entire dungeon have been slowly increasing. Eventually, they will be beyond us. We will eventually die …”

Zorren’s anger is completely washed away by Anathema’s prediction. He hunches forward, eyes meeting Anathema’s lost-looking eyes.

To see the woman who has led their people for so much of her life this hopeless, this close to despair, is more than enough to cool his head.

“I’ll do it,” he says, eyes looking towards the empty room his daughter once lived in.

“Thank you,” Anathema whispers. Her gaze lingers on her empty drink.

Silence takes over between the two, light fading from the world as the dungeon stone begins to dim.

Anathema finally stands and picks up her staff. She walks towards the exit, taking one final look at her old friend, a man who has lived far longer than any other of her kind and had suffered the most for it.

“Sleep well,” he says as she walks out.

*******************************************************************************************

“Jessica, a new task is set for you.”

Jessica pauses in her prayers. Opening her eyes and looking up, she sees the pale beauty of Eir’s statue. She calmly stands from where she knelt and turns around to face the [Archpriest]. She offers him a respectful bow.

He nods towards Jessica, but his eyes are held by Eir’s magnificence.

“In the borderlands, the army of the [King] Henceworth shall battle that of the [Lord] Dominus. The [Lord] Dominus has proven himself to be a cruel and cunning man, a man who has cast aside those in need. Through the blessings of Eir, we will aid [King] Henceworth and save whom we may.”

Jessica nods. She understands the situation. The church’s coffers must be empty again, so they’ve sold their services as glorified healers.

“When are we leaving?” she asks.

The [Head Priest] shakes his head. “Not me, this time. You and your fellow [Priestesses] shall be making this journey. You leave tomorrow morning.”

“Yes [Head Priest],” Jessica says, signaling she knows what she must do.

She bows once more and walks past him, heading to her room.

She became a [Priestess] to help people, to bring hope to those who suffer, not work as a common [Healer]. Walking through the marble hallway, she looked out into the courtyard where her fellow [Priestesses] toil away in the garden. It is through their work that the many medicinal plants are grown.

Jessica wonders why they don’t make enough coin from the plants. Why must they risk their lives for armies?

She continues on through an intersection and into the dormitory, a long hallway with small rooms. Each room is numbered and room assignment is decided by seniority.

Having been a [Priestess] for several years now, Jessica walks past only eight of the rooms before reaching her own.

She opens the lockless door and enters the small confines of her room to soak it all in one last time before she leaves home for the next several months, perhaps even a year.

She closes the door behind her and sits on her bed, enjoying the softness of the wool.

‘I guess I can take a small nap. I don’t have much to pack anyways.’

She lays down and looks up at the ceiling.

Her eyes drift closed, the familiar environment lulling her slowly to sleep.

_______

Opening her eyes, Jessica abruptly jumps up in a panic.

“I overslept!” she says, wiping her eyes with her bare arm.

She stares at her bare, bruised, emaciated arm, momentarily confused.

Looking around, she finds herself in a large stone room.

A cold draft sends a shiver down her spine. She’s completely naked aside from the leather blanket she’s been sleeping under.

In a corner across the room, against the ceiling, she notices a furry spider in the center of an intricate web. It rubs its pedipalps together and stares back.

Jessica stirs as she remembers the events of the last few days, ending abruptly when she entered the fog.

“Peter,” she blurts out, unbidden.

Peter, acknowledging her presence, lifts his front feelers up and points.

Jessica turns to where he’s pointing. Looking between him and the door, she tries to comprehend what he’s trying to say. He wants her to leave?

Looking around the room, she realizes there are no open windows. Or small openings. Or any way for a small furry arachnid to leave without some serious ingenuity.

“Where are we?” she asks, only to immediately realize the futility of expecting a spider to answer that.

Peter merely just wiggles his feelers and points at the door again.

Jessica shakes the sleep from her head. She looks up at the ceiling, made of some kind of translucent, cloudy glass that let light in.

She blinked at the mellow light. Moving to the side of the bed, she spots her clothing neatly folded on a stone chair.

Jessica is confused. She remembers entering the fog, but after that, it’s all blank. Did she fall asleep?

She reaches for the clothing, pushing the rough fabric between her fingers. She comes to the concerning conclusion that Quasi stripped her, but she still doesn’t know. Her mind is still too groggy to put anything together.

She slowly puts on her clothes. She wonders if she should be more concerned, but right now, she feels relaxed.

Finishing up, she stands shakily, takes one final look around the room before walking to the door.

Peter leaps from his web, landing on the shoulder of Jessica’s robe. She turns to stare at him. He stares innocently back.

She distinctly feels as though she should be disgusted by this, but-

Turning away from Peter, she moves her hand to the handle and pulls. The door, made out of a translucent crystal, scrapes loudly on the floor as it opens.

She steps forward into a hallway and sees stairs going down.

********************

So I figured out what a cycle is. Apparently, each level of the dungeon except for the first has giant, radiant crystals on the ceiling. The crystals periodically dim and then brighten, mimicking the sun’s cycle.

Getting out of bed, I walk to a table and pick up my clothes.

As I dress, I take a satisfied look at the bed, admiring Tessa’s naked form half-covered by the blanket.

Turns out, I was right. The tail was kinky.

Last night was all-around interesting, not just because of the sex, but because Tessa instigated it.

Granted, I have no qualms about coitus with different species. Heck, I’ve not always had a human body on my jobs. Besides, while sex between humans is still loads of fun, there’s nothing like a bit of variety to keep things fresh.

Anyhow, Tessa quickly learned how experienced I was, so I am not surprised she’s sleeping soundly.

‘But damn was she loud. The whole street must have heard her screams.’

I shake my head, trying to move my mind forward, toward the questions I still have, especially considering I didn’t have any time to ask Tessa anything.

Yanking down my shirt, I open the crystal door and walk out. I stop in place when I find Mule standing by the door. I forgot I left him there.

Walking past him, I make my way down a set of stairs to a parlor where Anathema is sitting at a table. Before her lies a plate of meat and a few crystal cups filled with a green liquid.

Nodding to her, I move to an empty stone seat and sit down. I grab a cup and take a sip.

‘Huh. Some kind of fruit juice? It’s actually pretty good. I wonder where they get it.’

“I must say,” Anathema starts, smiling lavisciously, “I wasn’t actually expecting you to mate with my daughter, especially on the first cycle …”

I sip my drink again. She continues.

“Nor was I expecting to hear her screams from the other side of the city. I am quite jealous.” She leans forward on her elbows. In my long, long, long life, this is probably one of the weirdest situations I have ever been in.

I clear my throat and raise an eyebrow. “As much as I would love to wake up the rest of the city, I do unfortunately need you awake and cognizant to answer my questions.”

Pouting, or doing what seems to be a pout, she grabs one of the glasses and sips the greenish fruit juice. Her tail reaches under the table and curves around my leg. “Well, unfortunate, but I’m sure I'll get my turn.”

She then looks at me. “Now Quasi, before your questions, I’d like to ask you, what do you know about aura?”

I take a bite out of a piece of pink meat she placed in front of me. I chew for a while to break down the sinewy meat. I stop after the first bite and set the meat on the table.

‘Raw. I really should have expected this, considering they don’t have fires anywhere. And they’ve got those sharp teeth.’

“I have no idea what aura is, but it sounds interesting.”

She nods, frowning at the partially chewed piece of meat on the table.

“I prefer my meat cooked,” I tell her.

Her eyes widen in understanding. “I see, you are similar to the kitsune.”

‘Kitsune, kitsune … Where have I heard that …? Japanese shit, I’m pretty sure … Right, a yokai!’

“Hmmm ...” she says, frowning even deeper. “This is actually rather difficult to demonstrate considering my aura is nowhere near strong enough to affect you.”

‘Affect me … Could it be!?’

“Give me an example, I think I’m getting it.”

Her tongue flicks out. “When I speak, I can imbue my words with my aura, making people obey me without a second thought.”

My eyes widen. “That's how you got all those people to leave without complaints!” I say.

She nods, smiling now towards me. “Correct. Many of them would have been against my decision to leave you unguarded.”

‘Alright, things are making a lot more sense now.’

“Soooo, how would one like myself learn to use aura?”

She chuckles softly. “Unfortunately, I had learned to wield my aura through training from the kitsune, training which I, unfortunately, cannot give you.”

I frown at her words. “Is it because the kitsune do not want you to or is it because you can't for some other reason.”

“Both, actually. The kitsune wouldn't want me spouting out their secrets, but I would make an exception for you if I could. Unfortunately, aura training requires someone of a more powerful aura to train someone with a weaker one.”

‘Interesting.’

“So my aura is stronger than yours.”

She tilts her head. “I wouldn't use the word stronger. A better term would be thicker,” she says, considering the question. “I suppose you could describe my aura as fog, while yours is a viscous mud. I have little to no chance of affecting your aura.”

‘Thick aura, hehehe …’

“Let me guess, age determines aura strength … or err, thickness?”

She pauses and then nods. “Age is one factor; so are willpower and class. Many classes use aura and wield it more effectively as they grow. I had a class called [City Leader] before I out-leveled it with my [Geomancer] class. In time, the class vanished but I still kept all the skills I gained, including those that involve aura.

“Regardless, your aura will cause many problems if it’s not suppressed, which is supposed to be relatively simple. And yes, you are going to want to suppress it unless you plan on sleeping with every woman who looks at you nicely,” she says with a seductive smile.

‘So, what, I've been giving subconscious sexual vibes to people every time I get horny? Fuck you, Loki … It's probably not his fault … Still, Fuck you, Loki.’

“So what do I have to do?” I ask.

Anathema reaches forward and grabs a piece of meat. She chews it slowly, pondering before she swallows. “The aura that surrounds a person reflects their inner self. It twists and warps based upon your emotions and your focus, and affects people significantly weaker than yourself. To control your aura, you must visualize your aura pulling back to yourself, to your skin. Picture it restricted within yourself.”

‘Well, that’s fucking easy. And here I thought I would have to spend months meditating upon some supreme truth.’

I close my eyes and take a long, slow breath in. My heartbeat slows. I exhale. Entering a meditative state, I imagine myself within a pool of water. In my mind, I draw the liquid into myself, letting the pool empty and leaving myself laying at the bottom.

It feels… uncomfortable. Restricted. Like I’ve just put on a helmet that fits a little too snugly.

I open my eyes and smirk at the stunned gejan.

“Amazing,” she whispers. “It took me several months to learn to suppress my aura.”

‘Not amazing, just skilled. Experienced! Also, amazing.’

“Well then, I can't tell if it's working, but I’ll take your word for it.”

I grab my glass and chug it down. Anathema’s eyes are glued to me. I grin. “Well, it’s time for me to get some questions answered. So, what’s up with this dungeon, how’d you guys get stuck in here, and what do you need me for? Besides tail.”

She blinks, refocusing. “Right … We can't leave this dungeon because of the fog, thus, the only thing we can do is to go deeper into the dungeon.” Her tail swishes, thoughts still elsewhere. “We know that there's a way to escape the dungeon on the tenth floor, but traveling to that area is impossible for us … which is where you come in.”

‘So, the lizards are trapped. They try what they can to escape but aren’t strong enough. Now, in their darkest hour, arrives the breathtaking hero to save the day.’

“So you need me to free your people.” I lean forward. “What do you have to offer?”

‘I’m not about to spend a few months freeing some folks just because they asked nicely. I’m too old for that shit. Even if their tails are pretty great.’

Her gaze hardens. I can tell she isn’t caught unaware, but merely preparing herself.

“Loyalty. I pledge myself and the gejans to your cause. One cannot rule the world alone. You will need an army,” she says evenly.

‘That … I can work with that.’

“That’ll do. What’s your plan?” I ask, reading her underlying confidence.

“That will take a while to explain,” she begins. “First, you must know that there are three other intelligent beings living within this dungeon. We, the gejans, live on the first floor. The second floor is home to the minotaurs. The third floor is home to the centaurs, and the fourth floor is home to the kitsune.”

‘Mythology meets reality, dungeon style.’

“What floor is giving you trouble?” I ask, already figuring out the play of the game.

My question quickly causes a frown to descend on her face. “Recently we’ve been able to pass the fifth floor and enter the sixth. On the sixth floor, a floor covered in mostly sand, we were able to create a staging point.”

Anathema sighs and leans back. “But we have since lost contact with them completely.”

‘And here we are.’

“You don’t know why.”

She nods.

“So you want me to go to the sixth floor, find out what’s causing your people trouble and preventing them from contacting you, get rid of that problem, then continue on to the tenth floor.”

“Correct,” she says without hesitation, her tail swishing quickly.

I lift an eyebrow. “Will I have a guide?”

She nods. “You will have half the population and a guide.”

‘Half!? I mean, I know their population’s low, and mostly made up of children, but damn. They’re desperate.’

“How much is half?” I ask, trying to make my own estimate.

‘Considering the population density and size of this city, I guess it’s… around 2000 people. So, I’ll be getting about a thousand.’

“I …” she hesitates, “We can spare about seven hundred, most of them capable of fighting … I refuse to send the children.”

‘Seven hundred, some of whom aren’t combat capable, and most of whom are probably under-leveled … Yeah, this is a die-or-die mission if I’ve ever seen one.’

“I’m going to pick which ones come with me. I doubt you have any experience leading armies, but you should know the strength of an army lies in its ability to coordinate rather than individual fighting prowess. Organizing and training them is a high priority. Otherwise, we’ll needlessly lose gejans in the march down.”

She stares at me, attempting to read something from my expression or my aura. I give away nothing. She frowns.

She looks down. “Have you led armies before?” she asks, already guessing the correct answer.

“Many. Some numbered in the millions. Most were much less than that.”

She takes a deep breath and settles herself. “How would you like me to organize my people for your choosing process?” she asks.

“I’ll tell you tomorrow. After a cycle. First, I need to get a better understanding of your people, your culture, your strengths.” I turn towards the stairs and see Jessica calmly staring down at me, “And get some much-needed information from her.”

I wave for her to come closer, gesturing to the chair beside mine.

Jessica, abnormally relaxed, walks forward, her mind seemingly elsewhere as she ignores the lizard woman at the table.

She sits down. Peter hops off her shoulder and onto the table, helping himself to some of the meat. Jessica merely looks at the table, at me, and then at the empty cup in my hand. She reaches forward, takes a cup, and sips.

‘Well, that was anticlimactic.’

I turn to Anathema. “So, this is Jessica. She’s acting oddly … more so than usual.”

Anathema looks at the girl, studying Jessica as her blank eyes listlessly stare forwards. “She’ll be fine. Her aura is in a state of shock, having been suppressed for so long due to the fog. It will fix itself within a half cycle, probably less.”

‘Well, that's good. I was kinda hoping for an over-the-top reaction from her, especially considering how desperately she didn’t want to enter the fog.’

I stand up. I sharply tilt my neck to the side, cracking it. “I do have more questions for you, but I think they can wait for now.”

I look at Jessica, her gaze devoid of emotion. “Jessica, how far can I get from you without the collar killing you?”

She turns towards me. She pauses, thinking. “Half a mile,” she answers.

‘This is disconcerting. It's like talking to a puppet.’

Anathema quietly watches us, carefully keeping an eye on the spider.

“Good enough. I’m going to the dungeon stone. I’m curious to see what it’ll be like.” I say, turning towards the exit.

“I’ll get you an escort,” Anathema tries to stop me, but I wave her off.

“Just keep Peter and Jessica safe. Be back in a bit!” I say, exiting the house, ready to explore the city.

_____

Anathema’s home is high up in the city with a viewover the walls and into the endless darkness. Looking down, I can see the city laid out before me and the glowing base of the massive stalactite in the center of it. Around the glowing, suspended, calcium monolith, the largest crystalline mirrors i’ve yet seen are redirecting light throughout the city streets and dwellings.

Without further ado, I find the stairs and begin my journey towards the Dungeon Stone.

Walking through the streets on my own, without the crowds, it becomes much more apparent how empty the city truly is. Those I do pass by don’t approach me, not even the children. Some follow at a distance, before finding something else to do. The few [Guards] merely give me a furtive glance.

‘Empty houses, empty streets … How many did they send down to the sixth floor?’

It’s almost a ghost town, on the brink of dying, and no amount of necromancy would raise it from the dead. Making it worse is how much the children outnumber the adults. I quickly find myself bored of looking around.

Turning down a street, I come across a gaggle of children playing with a leather ball. Those that see me stop to stare before darting away. The others quickly catch on and make quick escapes into alleys, buildings, and behind whatever they have available. Masters of stealth they are not, poking out heads to peek at me, the odd newcomer to their dwindling city.

‘Twenty kids,’ I note.

Shaking my head, I turn away and take a different route towards the source of the light.

They follow, bored, looking for a spectacle.

After about ten minutes and the addition of five more kids to my entourage, I finally arrive at the bottom of the stalactite. The tip of the imposing structure reaches down into a wide circular pit, and several clear walkways span the hole to touch the glowing white stone embedded at the stalactite’s tip. Two gejan [Guards] stand to attention before one of the bridges.

I walk forward under the scrutinizing eyes of the two men.

“Anathema has allowed me to access the dungeon stone,” I tell them.

“We know,” one replies.

Immediately, they each take a coordinated sidestep in either direction, allowing me room to pass between.

I nod toward them as I pass them by. They do not react, watching with a singular focus.

With a slight bit of trepidation and a great amount of curiosity, I lift my hand and place it upon the shining surface of the stone.

Scanning…

Class [Hero] found, updating entity [Quasi Eludo].

Quasi Eludo

Level 14 Necromancer

Level 29 Hero

Raise Undead

Advanced Analyse

Skeletal Renewal

Enhanced Undead

Bone Levitation

Strength

23

Dexterity

36

Stamina

32(34)

Perception

235

Endurance

14

Vitality

227(229)

Mana

700(1000)

M/regen

2.3(3.83)

Affinity

13

Intelligence

435(545)

Willpower

3047

Soul

4143

Robe of the Undead Caller (Rare): Halves all mana regeneration costs for undead upkeep. Does not allow additional Upkeeps.

[Hero] Level 25 has been achieved. [Multiclasser] increases from two to three. Currently ⅓.

Information floods my head, telling me what the dungeon stone may do for me. At the same time, screens clutter up my vision with the same messages. The newness and weirdness takes me a good minute to fully grasp.

‘I thought I was supposed to be getting all the information as boxes, not just forced directly into my head. What’s going on?’

“Hey, guys!” I call to the guards nearby. “When you place your hands on this stone, is knowledge about yourself sent directly into your mind or shown as writing in front of you?”

The two guards look at each other in a distinctly, “What the hell is this guy talking about?” kind of way. One guard flicks his tail in confusion while the other seems to decide I’m an idiot. “It’s a rock. There’s nothing to read,” he says.

‘Okay, so floating screens are just more [Hero] bullshit. Everyone else has to deal with mind shenanigans. I know which one I prefer!’

“Thank you, that's all I needed to hear,” I respond, returning my attention back to the big glowing stone.

The guards deal with this in classic city guard fashion: Shrugging and ignoring whatever stupid shit they don’t want to deal with.

With a mental command, I order the stone to show me a list of possible classes.

Calculating classes available based on species, stats, and life experience …

Agony smashes into my mind and forces me down to my knees. Waves of information bombard my brain, beyond anything I could ever handle. The pain is immense but doesn’t last long.

Query complete.

With those words, the pain disappears and my head is filled to the brim with class information.

Taking a deep breath, I stand up and wave to the guards, who are staring at me with bafflement and concern.

‘That was a horrible idea … I seriously need to ask more questions before I do things.’

Well, I have a lot of classes to choose from, many of which are quite useless, while others are pretty interesting. Looking through my mental encyclopedia, I shift through it for several hours until I find two classes that interest me. I mentally choose and accept them, triggering several new system messages.

Congratulations, you are now a level 1 [Enchanter]

New skill obtained: [Enchant]

[Enchant] (Common)

Imbue mana into an object to create a magical effect in the form of an enchantment. Effect potency varies with mana, level, and skill.

The first class I chose for its simplicity and utility. This should allow me to enchant any object, which may include bones and flesh, something my [Necromancer] class may synergize with.

Error. Source: Class restrictions not met

Scanning…

Entity Quasi Eludo has class restrictions waived by SAS11.

Class: [Noble] attainable.

Congratulations, you are now a level 1 [Noble]

New skill obtained: [Loud Voice]

[Loud Voice] (Common)

Amplify the volume of your voice. Sound spreads further.

I chose the second class because of Anathema and her ability to outright manipulate people with her aura. Her description of how her old class, [City Leader], had given her aura manipulation skills seemed valuable to me if I was ever going to be leading armies or ruling kingdoms. I needed to think ahead, which was why I got a look at the [City Leader] description …

Well, the class felt weak, but more importantly, its potential didn’t feel great.

Yes, feel might not be the perfect way to describe it, but when I considered selecting the [City Leader] class, something in me hesitated. My gut said it was the wrong thing to do. In all my years, in all my lives, I’ve learned to trust that gut instinct without question. Which is where my gut told me to take the [Noble] class.

Having made my choices, I open my eyes to see the stone’s glow diminished and feel …

‘Ugh, I need to piss. How long have I been here?’

Turning around, I see the guards looking at me attentively. Surprised to see me moving, most likely. The children, who were once watching, have left. The human “spectacle” stopped being so entertaining once I began perusing class choices.

“Um … how long have I been standing here?” I ask, not at all able to read the time.

“A while,” one of the guards replies.

“Right … I'll just be going back now,” I say, heading back towards Anathema’s home.

The guards remain silent and simply step out of the way for me as I leave.

____

Shortly after leaving the stalactite, I come across some more kids. The same kids? No, some of them must have left. Seeing me, they stop playing and stare.

“He's alive!” one of the kids yells, before making a grand escape in the form of screaming his head off and scampering away. I smile. The others scatter in all directions, except one young girl.

She instead runs up to me, almost falling over herself several times before standing in front of me.

Her eyes are cloudy, pupilless. She looks up at me, and yet … she doesn’t.

‘She’s blind, but she’s looking straight at me. I really hate it when blind people do that.’

“You're weird,” she tells me.

I frown. “How so?” I respond with a question.

Her tail swishes side to side and her head tilts to the side. “You’re so … bright! I can see you really well.”

I lift my hand to my chin. Her empty eyes follow the gesture.

‘Ah, of course. Is this more [Hero] bullshit? Unlikely, I doubt she has some sort of [Hero Vision] skill. Is it my aura? It could be my mana too … I can just ask.’

As I ponder, she continues to watch me, content with waiting.

I take a knee, bringing my face level with hers. “So, my name's Quasi. What's yours?”

Her tail continues to swish, dusting the floor. “I’m Aisha,” she answers, a smile forming on her face.

I smile. “Aisha is a lovely name,” I compliment her. “You know, Aisha, it’s pretty amazing that you can see me. I bet your class must be pretty special if you can do that.”

Aisha giggles happily. “No, I'm too young to have a class,” she says, shaking her head.

‘Classes have an age requirement? Good to know.’

“Really?” I say with exaggerated shock. “Then that’s even more amazing! How are you seeing me then?”

“It’s a skill!” she exclaims with a bit of pride.

“Well, it must be a very special skill then. Would you tell me what it is?”

She nods, squirming in place from a mix of excitement and bashfulness. Her wide smile shows off her many sharp teeth. “It's … [Gate- [Gwa- [Greater Manasight],” she finally says, enunciating every syllable carefully to make sure she says it properly.

‘So, a version of mana sense directly linked to vision? Seems that it would be inferior to my [Greater Mana Sense], except it’s something she doesn’t have to concentrate on … I’ll have to see if I can learn that.’

While I mull it over, a few of the other children exit their hiding spots but still keep their distance. It seems my friendly chat with Aisha is putting them at ease.

Smiling, I move my hand into my robe pocket and pull out a few finger bones, metacarpals I think they’re called? They were too small to turn into good shivs but large enough that I wasn’t entirely willing to throw them away. If need be, I could use them to fix Mule up, but it seems like I have a new use for them now. “So, Aisha, since you were nice enough to tell me about your skill, I’ll show you something special. This is a spell called [Bone Levitation].”

Mana gathers in my hand and imbues the bones with my magic. Six small objects lift into the air, dancing around each other.

Gasps resound around me as the children watch the spectacle. With the gejan deprived of magic, it wouldn’t shock if this is one of the only times they’ve ever seen magic at work. Aisha stares at me and the bones, tracing the paths between them and me with her gaze.

With a smile, I stand up and twirl my hand. The bones spin up and down, revolving around me at speeds considered impressive, but slow enough that the children can enjoy the show.

And then, with the bones whirling about, I myself dance with them. Each gesture is accentuated with the bones following behind or leading me into the next position. It’s a sort of ballet, though mostly improvisational.

More children come out of hiding to come watch the show.

Unfortunately, all things must come to an end.

“Quasi!”

Hearing my name, I halt in place. I turn towards the sound to see Tessa rushing towards me with a panicked expression on her face.

“Mom needs you now!” she tells me.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Stepping through the doorway into Anathema’s home, I find the expected scene. Jessica cowers in the far corner of the room, shakily pointing one of my bone shivs at Anathema, who, in turn, makes a great show of leisurely savoring a meal of raw meat. She favors me with a toothy grin when I enter.

Jessica’s head swivels to me, terror brimming in her wide eyes.

“Quasi, help! Monsters! They’re going to eatmeandIdon’t—” her screaming turns hysterical and she begins to cry, all while still pointing the shiv at Anathema.

I nod. ‘Yup, just the reaction I was hoping for.’

Figuring she might hurt herself, I attempt to use [Bone Levitation] upon the shiv, only for the spell to fail completely as my mana can’t seem to take hold.

‘Huh. Is it because she’s holding it? Must be some aura shenanigans.’

Anathema, finished with the slice of meat she was enjoying, runs her long tongue across and down her claws as though to savor the flavor in its entirety. She never breaks eye contact with Jessica, scaring the poor [Priestess] even further. Jessica shivers as Anathema grabs a new slab of meat and lowers it slowly and sensually into her toothy, upturned maw.

“QUASIIIIII!” Jessica yells, her eyes locked on the sharp teeth tearing through the pink flesh.

‘Well … This seems like a problem time can fix for me.’

I take a seat at the table beside Anathema and grab her glass, conveniently filled with more of that juice. I turn to look back at Tessa, who’s still in the entryway and very unsure as to what she should be doing.

“So, Anathema, what happened?” I ask and take a sip of the juice. ‘Mm, it’s still got a nice fruity flavor. It’s something like a mixed mango and blueberry flavor.’

Anathema just grins widely. “Oh, I was having such a nice conversation with your mate. She was telling me about the outside world and her life before arriving here. It was all quite intriguing.” Her tail swishes with … amusement? Tails are hard to read.

“And why is she panicking?”

“Her aura finally stabilized and allowed her emotions to emerge.”

I nod and turn my head to regard Jessica, who was slowly starting to relax as she followed the conversation.

“So when she panicked, you sent Tessa to get me?” Anathema nods at my words and smiles. Jessica flinches at the toothy grin and reraises her shiv.

I sigh. “And then you began scaring her.”

“I did, and I was thoroughly entertained.” Anathema states, a raptorial glint in her eye. She confiscates her glass and takes a sip.

‘Yeah, that’s about par for the course. Maybe gejan have some predatory instincts? Or maybe Anathema’s just sadistic?’

“Jessica!” I shout.

Jessica twitches, her eyes moving to me.

“Could you please put the shiv away and join us for lunch? We’ve got raw mystery meat and green sludge. The gejan aren’t going to hurt you,” I tell her.

Jessica trembles. “H-How would you know!?” she asks, still too scared to leave her corner.

I roll my eyes. “Because I slept with her daughter.” I point over my shoulder to where Tessa is still awkwardly standing in the door. “That one, who’ll need to gag if we ever do it again.”

Tessa blushes at the comment, her tail wraps around her leg in embarrassment. Anathema raises an eyebrow.

Jessica gapes like fish.

“I … What?” she asks.

I sigh.

“I banged her. Fucked her. Destroyed her lizard pussy. She was screaming half the night. I’m not sure how much more of an explanation you need.”

Jessica just blinks. She turns to look at Tessa, whose eyes are focused on the floor while her tail looks like it’s going to strangle her leg.

“You slept with a monster …” she states the obvious in a whisper, still struggling to process everything she’s been dealing with. Another moment passes and she slowly lowers the shiv.

‘Well, I guess that’s taken care of.’ I take another sip of Anathema’s juice. ‘She’ll come around soon enough.’

Jessica uncurls from the corner and walks wide around Anathema to claim a seat on my other side. She reaches out to hold my robe and grips it so tightly her knuckles turn white. Her eyes remain locked on the gejan matriarch who, greatly amused, favors Jess with another toothy grin.

Anathema turns her gaze to her daughter. “Tessa, do please go and get Zorren. We’ll be needing him soon enough.”

Tessa nods and runs out, glad to have an excuse to leave.

Anathema looks back at me. “Now then, Quasi, you were gone for several hours. Did you accomplish everything to your satisfaction?”

I nod. “Yes, I gained two more classes which will hopefully be very helpful to me.” I turn to Jessica who is staring at the drink in my hands.

I push the drink towards her, which she takes hesitantly. “Jessica, I wanted to ask you this earlier but you didn’t seem in a good state of mind. How good is the noble class?”

She takes a moment, gazing at the crystalline lines of the cup now in her hands. “It’s a class you are born with if at least one of your parents have the [Noble] class or an upgraded version, or it can be bestowed by a [King] or [Queen].”

‘You still haven't answered my question.’

“Yes, I guessed that much, but what I want to know is how useful it is, like what skills can you obtain from it?”

She looks up. “You have the class?”

I nod.

Jessica blinks. “Well, from what I know, the [Noble] class can do a lot. The skills they gain range from making money to diplomacy, leadership, combat, arts … It just makes you better at what you’re already doing. On top of that, the class can grow into either the [Lord] or [Lady] class, which is significantly more powerful than just being a [Noble].”

‘If being born a [Noble] gives you a few advantages over everyone else, I can see why those in power stay in power. Typical uprisings could be crushed if the ones in charge are born with predispositions towards leadership abilities.’

As I nod along, a question pops into my head. “How do classes upgrade? I was checking my lists of class options and was surprised to see only standard options available. I’ve done a lot of spectacular stuff, so I’m a bit annoyed that it’s all boring. Do more classes become available later?”

Both women look at me, Jessica’s gaze is filled with confusion, but Anathema’s gaze is considering.

“Lists?” Jessica asks, her hand still holding the crystalline glass.

“Yes, lists. It took me a while to—What?”

My words leave the two ladies stumped.

“Most people only have a couple of classes to choose from. I was only offered two when I turned 16 years old.” Jessica explains.

“What are years? How many cycles does that contain?”

Jessica blinks and faces Anathema, flummoxed by the question.

‘Ah, yeah, I still have to explain everything.’

“Right, soooo … we’re in a big, big dungeon. Really big. I think.” I shrug. “I don’t know any other dungeons to compare it to. Anyways, to get in and out of this place, you need to pass through that fog that only I can walk through. Also, there are some people living down here like,” I point at Anathema, “the gejan, who are trapped down here and are willing to swear fealty to me if I get them out of this place.”

Jessica blinks. “You can't live in a dungeon. The dungeon is a living, breathing thing. It will do everything in its power to kill and consume whatever isn’t a part of it.”

I raise an eyebrow. “Well, this dungeon is seemingly not attempting to kill us, so I guess this is an exception.”

She frowns at me, unable to refute my impeccable logic. ‘Though I can't necessarily refute what she said either considering my ignorance in … well, everything.’

“Now Quasi, you said that the stone offered you multiple classes? More than ten?” Anathema interrupts.

My hand reaches up to sweep back my long hair as I consider my answer.

“Several thousand, actually.”

With a tink, a crystal cup strikes the floor and clatters across the stone. Jessica’s drink spilled across her lap and the crude gray tiles.

Seconds go by until Anathema ventures a question.

“Did you only pick the [Noble] class or did you choose another?” she asks.

I turn away from her, my thoughts turning towards my other class; a class, I now realize, I don’t have any clue how to use.

“I also chose [Enchanter].”

Anathema taps the stone table with her claw as she thinks.

“I have heard about that class. Those with it can imbue items with power.” Her gaze moves towards the staff propped up in the corner of her room. “A few centaurs have the class and I believe one of the kitsune does as well.”

Jessica leans down and grabs the dropped cup, which hadn’t even cracked.

“Well that's unfortunate; I would have loved having someone to train me in the class. Hopefully killing monsters will level it up enough for me to get some usable skill.”

Jessica shakes her head. “You can't level up your class that way. [Enchanter] isn't a combat class, it's a crafting one.”

“Your mate is correct. You will have to be taught and then practice your abilities to improve yourself.”

“I'm not his mate,” Jessica retorts with an angry glare.

Anathema gives her one look, flashes her sharp predatory teeth and turns her attention back to me. “I suggest you talk to the centaurs and learn what you can from them about enchanting.”

‘That doesn't make sense though. The first-ever [Enchanter] had nobody to teach them, so they must have learned how to some way. I just need to figure … out … the …’

Without breaking my train of thought, I quickly rummage around in my robe. I take out the enchanted steel dagger.

Not wasting the moment of inspiration, I attempt my [Advanced Mana Sense] skill on the dagger.

‘Bingo.’

“What is that?” Anathema asks, clawed finger pointing at the glinting dagger.

I raise an eyebrow. “It's an enchanted steel dagger,” I explain, holding it out for her to examine.

She takes it carefully, and runs her claw up the thick handle, delicately touching the wood until it gives way to metal, where her finger moves gracefully up and down the blade’s shiny length.

‘Must … suppress … aura …’

Finally, she looks up from the knife. “What is this material?” she asks. “I have never seen or felt anything like it before.”

Then it struck me. An epiphany.he truth that has been staring me dead in the face this entire time, hits me like a loose brick falling from the roof of a five-story building. Finally, I understand what has been bothering me since I got here.

“No metal!” I slap my forehead. “None of you have any metal! This dungeon doesn’t have it!”

These homes are not new. This city is hundreds, maybe even thousands of years old. Generations of gejans have lived here, yet they use bone clubs and stone knives. Everything is rocks, plants from other floors, and materials harvested from hunting. If there was metal here, someone should have discovered it by now. I don’t know why it’s absent, but it’s probably some dungeon bullshit.

“Metal … Hm. I have never seen or felt this material before.”

Anathema slowly hands the dagger back to me, Jessica recoiling slightly away from the outstretched claw.

Before I can ask another question, the sound of heavy footsteps at the entrance steals my attention.

Zorren clomps in, his height forcing him to duck his head to fit through the doorway. His gaze lingers on me before he turns to Anathema.

“What do you need, Ana?” he asks, somewhat forcefully.

Anathema takes a long look at him. She frowns. “Where is my daughter?” she asks.

Zorren, taken aback, turns around. He finds only an empty doorway.

“She was right behind me a moment ago.”

Shaking her head, Anathema faces me. “Zorren here will help you get acquainted with the city’s inhabitants as well as the beasts which roam the first floor. He will be your guide to the other floors,” she turns to Zorren, “and will assist you with anything you will need.”

Zorren bares his teeth, his eyes glinting angrily. And then, the moment passes. He relaxes and nods, smothering his anger for the sake of his people, for his daughter.

Anathema smiles, but it doesn’t reach her eyes. “While I can help answer your questions, know that Zorren here has far more knowledge on classes, skills, and the monsters which inhabit the floors. It would be in your best interest to consult with him on such details.”

She stands up. “I will, in turn, prepare my people and the resources needed for the trip before the cycle ends.”

Her head turns, staring at me for a long moment. “Before I leave, is there anything that you may require from me?” she asks.

“Toni—er, at cycle’s end,” I say, getting the hint.

She smiles and nods, walking towards the exit. Her tail and hips sway subtly as she passes Zorren. The [Berserker]’s glare somehow grows more murderous.

I hop to my feet. Jessica follows suit but stays behind me.

I sigh. “Right. I’m not sure why you're angry with me, but I can seriously use your help.”

I walk up to him, unflinchingly gazing into the eye of a predator.

_____

Zorren stares at him, this human, watching for a reaction, testing him. But the human returns his gaze levelly, with neither fear nor bravado, just the quiet stoicism of a man accustomed to terror and tragedy, to whom fear and pain and loss are old acquaintances; a man, Zorren hates to admit, much like himself … which is why he hates this human all the more. The human reminds Zorren of his failure.

But Zorren understands the importance of working with the foreigner, of making sure the gejan survive.

Relaxing slightly, Zorren opens his mouth. “I will be leading our people. You will follow my directions or I will leave you behind,” he states.

“No,” Quasi answers immediately, his stern gaze uneasing in its intensity, looking into Zorren, through Zorren.

Zorren, taken aback, allows his own aura to flow out, immediately causing the female human to tremble.

But the male human continues to hold his gaze, his hands moving towards his chest, as though to reach for a hidden weapon.

Baring his teeth, Zorren’s functioning arm balls into a fist, the claws digging against his scales.

“Fine, but if you make a mistake and kill my people, I will rip out your throat,” Zorren threatens, watching an infuriating smile glaze upon the human’s lips.

“I don't make mistakes,” Quasi answers cooly.

Anger is something Zorren has familiarized himself with for decades. Simmering rage has remained a constant companion through his long life. Right now, it’s taking all his self-control to not smash the bastard into pieces.

Taking a few deep breaths, Zorren lowers his head. He holds back his pride and [Iron Will] keeps it in place.

Quasi nods acknowledging the deference, and looks back at Jessica. Her shaking stops and her tear-streaked face looks up at him.

“Zorren, I’ll be needing to hunt some monsters. I don't suppose you know a good location?”

“I do.” Zorren turns around and walks outside.

Quasi sends a mental command; the undead upstairs answers his call and joins them. The purple light of undeath is ever-present within the rugged skull of the abomination. Quasi waits a couple of minutes longer for Jessica to regain some color to her face and then he walks outside, Mule and Jessica following behind.

Zorren just gives them an annoyed look before he heads down the stairs, towards the city’s exit.

______

Bluffing must not be an actual skill, because if it was, I would have gotten it. Now, don't get me wrong, I'm sure with proper preparation I would have been able to defeat the [Berserker].

My level of preparation was zilch. Considering the enclosed environment, his size, the natural armor of his scales, and the number of levels he’s got over me … Oh yeah, had my bluff been called, I would’ve been totally fucked.

And even so, this needed to happen. He’s arrogant, overbearing, authoritative, and easily angered; none of those things are good qualities for a leader. It was only through keen observation I realized why he listens to Anathema.

He fears her. She is stronger than him and stronger by quite a bit. The man acknowledges strength and nothing else. Me standing up to him, unwavering at his threats, proved to him that fighting me may not end well for him. I showed him that I am not prey, thus I have gained his respect, though little it may matter.

We walk through the city, passing by very few people, as to be expected with how low their population has become. Soon it will be even emptier considering how many gejan I plan to take with me to the lower floors.

“Quasi!” a child’s voice calls out, interrupting my thoughts.

Aisha runs quickly up, ignoring Zorren as she rams into my leg and hugs me with a smile. “Hiiii!” she says. Her tail swishes madly as she stares up at me.

I return her smile with my own. “Hello, Aisha! Sorry I had to leave so quickly. Something had come up.”

She frowns and turns her head towards Jessica.

Immediately, Jessica gets on one knee, a smile blazing on her face. She reaches out and picks up the lizard child, pulling her straight into her nonexistent chest.

“You are soooo cute,” she says, her face rubbing against Aisha’s soft undeveloped scales.

‘Really? A grown gejan woman scares you into a corner but you fall in love with a little child …’

I shake my head as I watch Aisha giggle happily in Jessica’s arms.

‘I still don't understand women, even having been one.’

“We are wasting time,” Zorren interjects with his usual glare.

“Aisha,” I say, gaining her attention, “as much as I would enjoy playing with you right now, I, unfortunately, have to get some training done,” I explain.

Both Aisha and Jessica frown at me, their faces so identical in disappointment.

I move up my hand, scratching my ear, showing off a smile. “Don't worry. Once I get what I need, me and Jessica will return and play with you. Alright?”

Aisha nods and wiggles out of Jessica’s arms to her disappointment. “Promise?” she asks with a hopeful smile.

“I do,” I say, smiling at the blind girl.

She nods and then runs off, waving back at us. Jessica waves goodbye, a sad smile on her face.

“She was so adorable.”

“Indeed,” I reply, immediately turning around and heading towards Zorren who continues his usual glare.

‘Seriously, he has, like, only two expressions; angry and neutral.’

Done with our little stop, Zorren continues his way towards the city entrance. We follow along, Jessica looking around, her eyes glowing with interest as she gawks at the stone architecture.

Architecture, I now notice, that’s perfectly trimmed. The walls are abnormally smooth and meld perfectly into the ground. The ground itself is also completely smooth and spotless, not a crack or pebble to be seen.

Considering the lack of any proper tools, I can only guess that it was done by magic.

And the only person I have met so far with a class seemingly capable of manipulating the ground is Anathema with her [Geomancer] class.

‘I wonder how strong the class is … You know what? I might as well ask.’

“Hey Jessica, how strong is a [Geomancer] class?”

She looks up, her eyes meeting mine. Her smile slowly turns to a frown. “It is incredibly strong … and incredibly rare. All ‘mancer’ type classes are extremely powerful tier two classes which tend to only be obtainable from bloodlines.”

‘Bloodlines …’

“What are bloodlines?” I ask, wanting a better explanation even though I have a pretty good idea what it is.

“It's … mhmm … It's a trait that is passed down a family line.” She pauses, brows furrowing, unsure how to explain. “Bloodlines are special … properties?” She’s unsure of the word. “Properties people have that are inheritable from their parents. Some of them are skills, others are in the form of stats … but the most powerful are in the form of an affinity—”

“Which is why mancer classes are more commonly seen in [Nobles], correct?” I say, finishing her sentence.

She nods, her gaze lingering on mine before turning away.

So bloodlines are another tool for the few to control the many. For the powerful to stay in power … Yeah, totalitarianism is looking mighty easy on this world.

‘Lucky for me, that’s not my job.’

“Why did you ask?”

“Hmm?”

“Why did you ask me about the [Geomancer] class? Was it offered by the voice?”

“No, that's Anathema's class.”

Jessica suddenly stumbles, an impressive feat considering how well paved the road is.

“She’s a [Geomancer]?” Jessica asks, her eyes wide in shock. I nod. “She could have killed me!”

‘Yeah, well … She could have walked across the room, whacked you over the head with her staff, and then done whatever the hell she wanted. It’s not like she would have needed to use her class to do that.’

“Not sure why you’re afraid, my [Necromancer] class is tier two as well.”

She pauses, biting her lip. “You can fight her?” she asks hopefully.

‘Hell no.’

“Of course.”

She takes a long look at me and then nods, a smile slowly forming on her lips.

“Walk faster!” Zorren yells, interrupting us from a considerable distance away.

‘Holy shit he walks fast.’

_______

Having caught up to the annoyed Zorren, the group quickly makes their way to the entrance of the city, where a relatively large group of gejan waited. Both men and women were sitting and standing around the inner entrance of the city, though they aren’t doing nothing. Most are making final equipment checks, sharpening their bone weapons, and a few are idly making carvings.

One gejan, a female with a red hue to her scales, leaves the group and intercepts Zorren.

“Zorren, the hunters don't need your help,” she calls out, her slitted eyes taking a quick glance at Zorren’s tail stump and unusable arm.

Zorren halts his step, his fist clenching before quickly reigning in his feelings.

Even so, the skill is only partially successful as Zorren bares his sharp teeth. “I have orders from Anathema, so if you have a problem with me joining the hunt, then take it up with her, Thorous,” he says her name challengingly.

Thorous flinches at the mere mention of Anathema. Swishing her tail in agitation, Thorous turns away. “Fine, just stay out of the way,” she says, walking back to the hunting group after giving the humans only a momentary glance.

As she walks away, Zorren moves up to the wall and takes a seat, content to let the group finish their preparations.

Walking up to the group of hunters, Quasi gets only a slight glance at the group before they turns their eyes away. The reason for such a treatment is based upon the gejan culture where eye contact is only given to friends, lovers, allies, or enemies. Because of this, many of them refuse to make eye contact with someone who had gained the respect of Anathema, a rather difficult thing to do considering her combat prowess.

Quasi activates [Advanced Analyze] and is swamped with lots of information about the bunch of low-level gejan, their levels averaging between forty and fifty. Thorous, though, is an outlier, a level 93 [Blader].

His eyes focus on their crude bone weapons. His [Necromancer] class and his own experience allow him to notice minute differences between them; the density, the age, even the function of the bone can be observed.

For example, a large, slightly curved tooth is attached to the back of a hammer. The tooth was once used for latching onto prey but is now being used as the pick of the hammer to penetrate flesh or punch through carapace.

Having studied the group, Quasi walks back to Jessica who is standing fearfully next to Mule, her eyes watching the gejan arming and preparing themselves.

____

Thorous takes quick peeks at the [Necromancer], her face getting a little redder every time as her loins begin to itch. Her friend Tessa had been extremely … vocal last night about her pleasure. Her screams and moans kept Thorous from sleeping, and since Thorous’s home was just beneath Tessa’s, she heard every last wail and whimper.

‘Annoying.’

Tail coiling in frustration, she finally gets up. Looking around her [Hunters], [Trackers], [Scouts], and [Warriors], she sees that their preparations are complete.

Looking up, she notices the light has slightly started to recede, a perfect time to hunt prey now that the desbats— thegiant, overgrown flying monsters—have settled down to sleep, drastically decreasing the chance that the hunters will be swarmed if something were to go wrong.

As she moves, the others of her hunting group notice and react attentively. They grab their gear and weapons and shuffle toward her. The humans and Zorren also stand and head toward her.

They gather around, gaining her attention.

“We will be going toward the hunting ground Sentra. It has been a while since we were there and crystals are running low. The crystalbacks should have regained their population once more, so we will be hunting a few of them down today.”

A condensed groan comes from the group, understanding that a lot of work will need to be done.

Thorous flicks her tail, acknowledging that hunting crystalbacks is indeed very physically demanding.

With a nod and a flicker of her tongue, she turns and marches out of  the city, passing by two guards who only give them a quick glance before going back to their duties.

As the light of the dungeon stone continued to fade behind them, her night vision activates, allowing her to see the terrain clearly, though it lacks color.

At the flick of her claw, the [Scouts] quickly disperse, moving silently ahead to warn the hunters of possible monster sightings or swarms.

Swarms, that's the most dangerous part. The monsters alone aren't necessarily problematic to deal with. The problem is actually the amount of noise fighting a beast makes. Noise could attract a desbat, who, once finding prey, will immediately make more noise to signal another desbat, and pretty soon the prey gets torn to pieces by a swarm.

And that, more often than not, will cause a few of the hunters to lose their lives—something that, considering the slow reproduction of the gejan, is very dangerous to the species as a whole.

As the group gets closer to the crystalback feeding ground, a small watering hole with fungi all around, one of the [Scouts] comes running up to Thorous, her face a mask of panic.

“Crystalback corpse found nearby,” she pauses, “Its back has been completely shattered.”

And that's when Thorous frowns. “Show me.”

The [Scout] nods and leads the way to the corpse. The entire group, immediately on edge, follows with their weapons unsheathed.

The corpse of the crystalback, a turtle-type monster with a thick, crystalline shell, is a ghastly mess. The shell of the corpse is completely shattered, a feat impossible by any other monster except the dungeon boss, the dungeon-spawned abomination that blocks the route to the second level. The human female, Jessica, turns to the side and dry heaves over a patch of mushrooms.

Thorous frowns more, she tries to imagine the dungeon boss traveling such a long distance just to feed on a crystalback, especially considering the abundance of desbat prey …

As she studies the dead monster and the consumed greenish body, a movement in its flesh startles her.

A small, black, hairy monster pops out of the corpse, its red beady eyes staring directly at her.

“Oh hey, it’s Peter.”

CHAPTER TWELVE

Peter looks up at Quasi and immediately leaps onto his shoulder, settling in nicely with a bit of webbing.

Thorous looks at the spider, her mind trying to make sense of the situation, but ultimately she gives up. She looks back at the corpse.

‘Too big to transport, even if the meat is fresh. Better to find another target.’

Signaling the group, she leads them deeper into the watering hole. Around the hole, soft, glowing fungus casts the chamber in a pale, iridescent light. Around the fungi are many crystals indented into the ground. A few crystalbacks can be seen slowly consuming the slightly iridescent fungus.

As the group approaches the oasis, the crystalbacks, noticing them, quickly indent themselves into the ground, hiding their soft, squishy underbellies from the threat of the advancing predators' weapons.

Sighing, Thorous chooses a crystalback and walks towards it. The larger men of her group sheath their weapons and follow her.

Thorous taps the crystal, eliciting a slight movement. She points at the monster.

The men converge around it and grip the edge of the shell, taking hold. As one, the eight men strain as they slowly lift up the two thousand pound monster, revealing its squishy body underneath.

With a quick movement, Thorous unsheathes her blade and slices the monster's neck before it can scream.

Immediately, the beast thrashes as its green blood drains from the severed arteries in its neck, spilling over the ground.

Unfortunately, in its erratic death throes, the crystalback’s head slams into one of the men, causing him to lose his grip. Immediately, the Gejan next to him, unable to bear the weight, let go as well. The monster falls as each hunter loses their grip in turn , and the two thousand pound beast carcass crushes down one gejan man’s leg, splitting scales and cracking bone.

A pained howl escapes his lips before one of the others can clamp his mouth shut.

The sound echoes through the cavern and ricochets away down the tunnels. The entire group freezes, their eyes looking around.

Silence … but just as Thorous thought the coast was clear, the faint sound of beating wings drifts through the cave.

Thorous turns toward the sound and soon a desbat flaps into the dim light of the watering hole.  The monster, a beast with a wingspan of twenty feet, looks down upon the motley group, its beady eyes glittering at the sight of prey.

Its chest expands as it quickly fills its lungs with air … and then the monster croaks, its lungs and throat pierced through by several sharp bones.

Thorous turns to Quasi. Several sharp pieces of bone swirl around him as he stares at the flying monster, his hands folded around his chest, a curious and confident smile on his face. The female next to him, apparently blind in the darkness, holds on to the hem of his robe in abject terror, her eyes straining to see what’s going on.

As the desbat turns to flee, several of the bones floating around the man accelerate to extreme speeds and rip apart the leathery wings of the monster, forcing it down to the ground.

With the beast grounded, Thorous immediately springs into action, unsheathing her twin blades from her back as she activates her skill.

“[Accelerated Strike],” she whispers, and her body moves at an incredible speed across the feeding ground and strikes  the grounded desbat’s head clean off its body.

Thorous notices sharp shards of bone have lodged in the monster’s joints, rendering it unable to move or fight back anyhow.

The bones flow out of the corpse and fly back to orbit  the [Necromancer], then move again to  stow themselves in a very holey pack carried by the undead behind him.

Quasi’s piercing, glowing, purple eyes turn towards the corpse of the crystalback that had  bled to death while still resting firmly on one of her men's legs.

Having narrowly avoided a disastrous situation, Thorous turned away from the desbat corpse and ran back to the dead crystalback, hoping to save the fool’s leg before he became a cripple like Zorren.

But then she stops short as the corpse got up on its own. Its head stretched forth from its shell and the eyes of the turtle-like monster started to glow a puissant purple.  Blood continued to trickle from its lacerated neck.

“Damn, that cost a shit-ton of mana.”

____

‘Holy crap I just burned more than ninety percent of my mana.’

I steady myself as I will away the urge to projectile puke. Apparently, when one’s mana dips to extremely low levels, one feels like piss on a flat rock.

I take a deep breath. Nausea quickly subsides as my mana regenerates to safe levels.

I regard my new undead.

Crystalback Zombie Level 46

Denizens of the dungeon’s first floor, these herbivorous beasts roam in packs, constantly looking for sources of water and food. Though they lack any way to fight off predators, these monsters are able to defend against such predators by burying their soft underbodies into the ground while their backs deter any predators. Such a mechanism has evolved to the extent that they can go several months without needing to eat or drink, thus most predators grow tired and leave.

This crystalback has been revived and is currently under the control of entity Quasi Eludo. -0.1 mana regen

Probably useless in a fight, but at least I can use it for transport considering its sheer size…

I look at the dead desbat, frowning at the dismembered head.

‘Unfortunately, it seems that decapitation precludes revival.’

Desbat Level 83

The desbats are the alpha predators of the dungeon’s first floor. These beasts hunt for prey using echolocation. Once prey is found, they shriek to alert other members of their species and track the prey until they can swarm it with overwhelming numbers.

This specific monster is a fully grown adult but its lack of a head makes it incapable of being revived.

‘Stupid game logic.’

Shrugging my shoulders, I finally notice the eyes of the entire hunting group on me, especially the women, who seem to ogle me with a deep hunger.

‘I’m pretty sure I’m controlling my aura … or did I let it slip? Shit …’

Grabbing Jessica’s hand, I lead her to the gejan sitting on the ground, nursing his rather destroyed leg.

“What happened?” Jessica asks. As she gets close, the glowing fungus sheds enough light for her to see the injury.

“His leg was crushed. Can you heal it?” I ask.

She bites her lip, looking at the leg, then frowns at the gejan as he makes eye contact with her.

“I will need to set the bone before I can heal it,” she explains, her eyes focusing on the destroyed leg and the several bones jutting out.

As she reaches her hand towards the wound, the gejan growls at her and shows his teeth.

Jessica jumps backbehind Quasi her eyes staring fearfully at the injured gejan, who enjoys her reaction.

“You.”

The injured male, hearing a voice behind him, looks up.

Zorren slams his fist into the injured gejan’s face, destroying teeth, scales, and crushing the gejans head into the ground.

Zorren, ignoring the other gejan as they unsheathe their weapons, turns towards Jessica.  He points to the new unconscious gejan.

”Heal him,” he says with authority.

Jessica just takes a long look at Zorren. The [Berserker] makes no other expression; doesn't bare his teeth or brandish a weapon, just stares expectantly at her.

Biting her lip, she focuses on the injured leg, ignoring the gejan’s bleeding face, which will heal naturally, and begins to reconstruct the crushed leg.

I sit beside Jessica and help her move the bone fragments back into place. Jess is stumped several times by the differences in human and gejan anatomy, but I feel like instinct is guiding me to place the bones correctly. Kinda like bone engineering or something, I just seem to know it.

Once the bones have been set and the wounds pulled closed, Jessica activates her skill [Minor heal]. At first, it looks to me like a simple spell that just increases cell regeneration, but at the last second, the last formation, it changes.

‘What the fuck just happened? The spell’s complexity just went through the roof!’

And indeed it did as I watch mana enter the wound, moving towards specific injured parts, forcing reconstruction at a rapid level.

I stand up, my help is no longer unneeded. I turn toward the staring gejan.

“It’s going to take a few hours to fully heal his leg,” I explain, getting nods of recognition and respect from the gejan, possibly even a respectful smile from Zorren.

Thorous walks up to me, her gaze lingering momentarily on my crotch before finding my eyes.

Fuck

“The undead,” she says, pointing towards my new crystalback zombie, ”how many can you create?”

I frown, mentally doing the math in my head, ”Ten would be a safe number for me.” I answer, not wanting to restrict my mana regen too much since my regeneration is lowered by each and every summon I have.

She nods, turning towards the gejan, ”I want all of you to protect her from any possible threats while she heals. In the meantime, we will be hunting more crystalbacks.

And then she walks off, her tail swishing confidently as the men follow her.

I also follow her, doing my best to ignore the hungry looks of the female gejan staring at me as I leave.

‘Thank god this robe is spacious.’

_____

The [ Guards] standing watch immediately start to panic at the sight of ten crystalbacks and eight desbats  approaching. It was only the timely sighting of the hunting group, relaxed and mostly uninjured, strolling alongside the swarm, that stopped them from rousing the city to arms.

Leading the procession is none other than Thorous, her trademark red scales glistening and a confident smile on her face.

Right behind her is a crystalback carrying an unconscious gejan, his body lodged between the crystals jutting out of the undead’s back.

One of the guards runs off to find Anathema. Zombie crystalbacks and a happy Thorous in the same place are definitely not normal.

Moments later, Thorous arrives before the guard stubbornly barring their path.

“The hunt was a success, move aside,” she says cooly. The guard flinches but stands his ground.

“This situation is abnormal,” he says, eyeing the glowing-eyed monsters behind Thorous, ”I must ask you to wait for Anathema to make her way here.”

Thorous takes a long look at the gejan [Guard] and slowly nods. She turns around. “Anathema will be here soon. We will wait alongside the undead,” she yells. The hunters relax, quite happy that the hunt was actually relatively easy and fruitful.

Zorren, with complete disregard for authority, walks forward past Thorous and around the guard, who keeps his mouth shut, unwilling to provoke the [Berserker].

_____

The ground churns around Anathema as she melts out of the city wall to find, finding a rather interesting sight.

Immediately the hunters straighten, their eyes filled with fear and respect for their leader.

Anathema takes a long lookone glance at everyone until her eyes settle on Quasi, who is happily sitting atop a dDesbat flying in place.

“Quasi, iIt seems your first hunt was a resounding success,” she says, her voice loud but extremely clear as she activates the skill [Loud Voice].

Quasi, nods from above,”” Indeed it was,” he says, activating his own [Loud voice] skill.

Anathema, noticing the casual usage of the skill, smiles back, showing her teeth.

“Good,” she turns towards the guard.

“Allow them in. Those monsters are under his control.”

The guard immediately nods and stepsmoves out of the way, clearing the way to an entrance which is barely big enough for the crystalbacks to fit through.

AnathemaShe turns to Quasi, ”Wwhen you are done, meet me in my chamber.”

And with that last statement, she turns around and walks into the wall, disappearing into the stoneworkinstantly.

_____

I watch as Anathema melds into the wall like walking through a liquid. My gaze follows hera trail of condensed mana as it disappears under the city at an incredible speed.

Shaking my head, I order my undead to head into the city.

The crystalbacks walk forward as one, the thump of their heavy tread rumblinges through the caverns, the noise of which had attracted several dDesbats on the trip back. Luckily, quick use of my boneshivs punctured the monsters’ lungs before clipping their wings. As powerful as I may be, several hundreds of dDesbats would be rather problematic to deal with.

I look at the dDesbat zombie floating next to me and am greeted by get treated to the panicked look on Jessica’s face as she grips my undead, her fear ofing heights evident.

With another mental command, I order the dDesbats to land in the central plaza inside the wall, where a great many [Butcher] gejan with the [Butcher]s classes waited, their eyes alight with curiosity at the mobile monsters.

Mentally parking the crystalbacks in a line, I order the desbats to land beside them.

Upon landing, Jessica immediately slides off of the monster, her legs wobblingy as she sneaks me an angry look.

I smile back to show my sincere understanding and elegantly hop off my mount. Once landed, I look back at the crystalbacks.

I sever my connection with them. The purple glow fades from the undead beasts’ eyes and they collapse to the ground, dead once more just dead. The tremors from their falls knock several of the nearby gejan off their feet.

From the corner of my eye, I see Thorous give me an annoyed look before she turnings back to the bewildered [Butchers] to explain the situation.

Ignoring them, I pull up my interface, rereading the several new levels and skills I’d gained.

Level Up x 7

You are now a level 21 Necromancer

Two skills awarded:

[Undead Eyes]: As a Necromancer, you have the ability to see through the eyes of your undead.

[Undead Enrage]: Target undead will have all offensive stats tripled for a time based on undead type and structure.

Level Up x 1

You are now a level 30 Hero

Hero Ranking hasve been unlocked!

You are currently the highest- level hero in existence.

‘Ooh, the Necromancer skills are pretty good. Being able to see through the eyes of my undead is pretty neat, but the [Undead Enrage] skill is rather overpowered. Triple stats is not a small amount. WI wonder what’s the catch I wonder?’

‘And then there's my Hero class, which is currently the highest leveled hero class in existence … and maybe the only hero class in existence? … unless there are other heroes like myself … something to think about later. But first.’

“Jessica, did you gain any levels?”

She turns to me, her gaze moving away from the gejan who are ever so carefully dismantling the crystalback using crude bone hammers and blades.

“How would I know?”

‘Oh … right, she needs the stone.’

“I see. Want to go check it out?” I say, pointing at the dimming light.

She looks towards the light and nods slowly.

______

The walk towards the dungeon stone was … uneventful to say the least. No kids were seen in sight … oh, well.  There was no time limit on our promise anyway.

Walking past the two guards protecting the dungeon stone, I place my hand upon its smooth surface., Iand frown at the lack of new information.

‘I guess it should be expected. I barely leveled anyhow.’

“I GAINED TWO LEVELS,” Jessica yells, her hand resting on the stone next to mine.

An amazed smile blazes brightly on her face as she stares at the stone.

She turns to me, “” How? All I did was just heal a little.”

She shakes her head, her silly grin still plastered on her face., “” I even gained a skill,” she sobers, “” but I don't know what it does. I’ve never heard of it before.”

‘So two levels are huge? I mean, I gained like 21 in my necromancer class in merely a few days.’

“What's the skill?”

She pauses, unsure if she should disclose her new skill. A person’s skills are private and it’s a rather taboo thing to ask.

And then she remembers that the person asking is a [Hero].

“[Anatomy] ... I gained it when I obtained level 40 in my [Priestess] class.”

‘Really? That's a skill?’

I hold up my hand, ”Jessica, how many bones are in my hand?”

She looks atto my hand. ”Twenty- seven,” she says casually.

And then her eyes widen.

“Yup, your new skill seems to give you the knowledge to understand a body’s composition.”

I then point at the guard who has been listening in to our conversation, ”Do you know their bodies too?”

She takes a long look and slowly nods, her new skill allowing her to just instinctively know the body’s internal structure.

'‘Such a weird skill. It's like she took several college classes in anatomy … on every body imaginable.’

“But it seems like a useless skill,.” she explains, still staring at the guard who is doing his best to not make any eye contact with her.

“Mmmmm, that’s the thing. Earlier today, you didn't know how to set the bones correctly on that gGejan to properly heal him. Now, that shouldn’t be a problem anymore.”

“I … I guess you're right,” she says, biting her lip.

‘Seriously? That's such an amazing skill. What is she so upset about?’

“It's an amazing skill and one that has enormous potential,” I tell her.

Jessica immediately brightens at my words, her smile returning in full force.

‘God, she’s so simple.’

Shaking my head, I turn toward Anathema’s home. My own smile forms as I remember the offer.

“Alright, let's go back. I need to level up in another class I have.”

Jessica just nods, happy to just follow the [Hero] along.

Not that she has much of a choice otherwise.

______

Sitting on the relatively soft bed of my room, I take one glance around me. Jessica is sitting on a chair, staring curiously at me. Mule is right outside the room, looking all menacing like… and that's it. The whole building is empty. Apparently, Anathema has not returned yet.

Taking out my enchanted steel dagger, I admire its rather simple creation and then activate my [Advanced Mana Sense] skill.

|I amWhich immediately hit bys me with a plethora of colors and diagrams engraved all throughout the steel of the blade. Circles, squares, lines, all zoom like subatomic particle traces throughout the blade. It’s abysmally complex.

But still.

I take out a dagger of bone, cut to precisely the same length and width of the steel dagger.

I send my mana flowing into the bone blade. Once it i’s saturated, I begin twisting themy mana into the exact shapes of the enchantments on the steel dagger, copying their form and function.

ThisWhich proves more difficult than I’d imagined since it’s really hard to get mana to stick to bone.

Luckily my supply is quite large.

After several minutes of concentration and almost my entire pool of mana, I finally finish the enchantment and, immediately useusing [Advanced Analyze] on the bone dagger.

Bone Dagger of Bloodletting.

Created by a low- level enchanter. Cuts from this dagger will clot slowly when used to penetrate flesh.

Due to the low quality of the material and the lack of mana stone substrate, this weapon must be recharged after every use. Mana 173/173

Shit, so materials actually matt—--

Level up X 23

You are now a Level 23 [Enchanter].

Two Skills awarded:

[Copy Enchantment]- Duplicate any enchantment from an item to a similar item. Effects may vary.

[Enchantment Deconstruction]- Ddestroy an enchantment to gain a better understanding of its function.

I just broke the game … again.

“You know, you have a very evil, conniving smile on your face.”

Jessica, sitting on the chair, watches me as I work. Her eyes look closely at the bone dagger on my hand.

‘I would hope so. [Enchant Deconstruction].’

The enchanted bone dagger in my hand disintegrates. A moment goes by beforeand a large amount of information is slammed into my head, all the information on how the enchantment works is slammed into my head; why certain parts are there, what they do, how they do it.

I understand like five percent of the knowledge dump … but that's the thing, I can repeat this another nineteen times.

Level Up X 3

You are now a level 26 [Enchanter].

“Muahahahaha.”

Jessica raises an eyebrow, watching as I take out another bone dagger from my robe.

***************

“Why is your mother so loud!” Thorous yells, glaring daggers at her friend Tessa as they both sit in her home right below Anathema’s.

Tessa, for her part, just looks down, blushing furiously as her own mother is expertly slammed in bed. Her orgasmic hisses and screams are loud heard through the stone walls of Thorous’ home.

“You weren't even as loud as her!” Thorous yells, continuing her tirade.

Granted, hearing the sound of mating is fine and normal in gGejan culture, but most of the time it only lasts for ten minutes at most.

“How long does he last?” she waves her tail in exasperation, pacing back and forth in her room, ”It has been half the cycle already. Will I ever get any sleep?” she seethes.

Tessa just scrunches up, her tail wrapping around her leg while she listens to her mother having continuous orgasms.

Shaking her head, Thorous plops her butt down on the bed, her hands moving to her face, ”You know, I can't really blame her. I think I'm probably just jealous … that Quasi is amazingly powerful. He took down those desbats with such ease, it was quite impressive … and then there's that feeling I get when I look at him … to mate ... to lay his eggs.”

She s*Sighs*, ”I might be overthinking it.” Hher tail swishes across the bed in frustration.

“Whatever,” she turns to her good friend Tessa.”

Tessa at that moment releases a muffled scream and then falls toon the floor, her body twitching.

“Did … did you just orgasm?”

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

“Dis is so salty,” Izabella complains as she chews a piece of jerky.

Rathos, smiling sadly next to her, extends his arm and pulls his daughter toward him, his eyes gazing into the campfire in front of them.

”I know, Iza, I know,” he says. He looks at her, her expressions so hauntingly reminiscent of his late wife’s, “It’s only until we can get to our new home.”

Iza frowns but takes another bite of the meat.

Rathos holds her close, comforting Izabella for the home they had to flee and the friends she left without even saying goodbye for fear of being tracked by [Spies]. His insistence on secrecy had been unkind, but his daughter’s safety was—is—paramount.

At that moment, Henrietta steps into the firelight with a glass of water in her hand. She interrupts Rathos’s embrace and pulls Isabella into her lap. Her arms wrap around the young [Noble] girl.

“Don’t just eat the meat, Iza,” she admonishes, “you need to eat the fruit and vegetables too.”

Izabelle looks at her bowl filled with spongy, reconstituted fruits and vegetables over barley. She frowns.

“She’s right Iza,” Rathos speaks up, his smile radiating in the firelight.

Listening to her father, Iza slowly nods and grabs some fruit, nibbling on it slowly.

Rathos relaxes, watching his daughter as she accepts the glass of water from Henrietta, an old fox demihuman who had been his wife's most trusted servant … granted, every servant his wife had, though slaves, is extremely trustworthy.

Rathos looks around at the other demihuman slaves. They had been helped by his wife, and now faithfully follow Rathos to a new home. They sit around fires, some chatting with the [Mercenaries], others chatting with each other. They are all in high spirits.

As he amuses himself watching his daughter eat and get scolded by Henrietta, a passive skill of his activates, a seemingly throbbing headache towards a direction.

The skill, [Imminent Threat], activates prior to any attack. He had used it to counter many attacks by enemy armies as a [General].

Rathos hops up and calls out in an [Enhanced Voice] laced with his inner intent.

“AMBUSH!”

Rippling outward like a wave of mental force, his voice strikes the minds of everyone in camp, inciting movement.

Unlike the [Loud Voice] skill which just makes you louder, the [Enhanced Voice] skill boosts Rathos voice with his aura, imbuing his intent into his words. The skill’s distance range, limited by the user’s aura, usually only covers a small group, but a good [General] can project his aura over an entire army ... and Rathos is one of the best.

The [Mercenaries] mount their horses, eyes scanning the woods, while the demihumans run toward the protection of the carriages. Two large bear demihumans, Rathos’s [Guards], run to cover Henrietta as she carries a panicked Izabella towards their carriage. Once the two are inside, the bear demihumans, clad in enchanted steel armor, unsheathe their swords and shields and move to block the entrance to the carriage.

Nodding towards them, Rathos watches as Gen approaches on horseback, the young man looks ready, clearly having grown up in the years to come.

“Rathos, what's the situation? You called an ambush?”

Rathos nods, his eyes turning the direction his skill is activating toward … and considers the strength. “A large enemy force. I would guess a hundred strong.”

Gen turns towards the location Rathos is gazing, ”Do you know how long?”

Rathos shakes his head, ”No, but not too long, especially considering they probably have a [Scout]”

A smile forms on Gens' face, ”What's the plan, [General]?”

Rathos turns toward the [Mercenaries], all of which are now on horseback.

He activates his [Silent Analyze] skill, looking into their levels, and nods slowly.

“We will wait. Unless they have a high level [Archer], they will need to get out of the woods and into a closer position to strike at us, so I need you to hide about half your mercenaries behind the carts and carriages.”

Gen nods and orders his men to hide.

About a couple of minutes later, a swarm of people emerge from the woods in a disorganized manner.

[Bandits], about a hundred of them, dirty and bedraggled, walked forward brandishing their unsheathed rusty weapons.

At the front of the group is the [Bandit Leader], a rather dangerous class known for being very underhanded and brutal in a fight.

The leader walks forward, his frame illuminated by the firelight. A large man with a scarred face and hair messy, he strolls confidently forward as he unsheathes a large battle axe.

The [Bandit Leader] looks at the group, noticing a rugged [Trader] and about twenty [Mercenaries] on horseback.

A smile blazes on his lip, ”Well, look wat we has here,” the [Bandit Leader] exclaims, his teeth yellow and disfigured due to lack of care.

The leader scratches his beard, eyes staring hungrily at the sacks of supplies on the wagons.

He flicks his hand, [Bandits] trained in archery come forward, unsheathing their bows. ”It be a wee bit unsettlin, with you knowing were I be. I was pretty sure me man was nat seen.”

The [Bandit Leader] addresses his men. “Gessan,” he calls, immediately a young mouse demihuman come forward, fear evident on his face as he looks up to his leader,” I swear on me mum's grave, I’s not seen.

The bandit leader shakes his head.

With a burst of speed, the [Bandit Leader] yells “[Axe Throw]”, which causes his axe to fly through the air and impale the [Bandit’s] chest with impressive speed.

Rathos just watches calmly, finding the threat of violence not demoralizing at all.

‘A pathetic display to cause fear, to make us panic. On top of that, that skill probably has a long cooldown time, probably longer than this battle will last.’

The leader walks to the corpse, rips his axe out, and turns to face Rathos. A bloodthirsty smile on his face. “[Killer’s Smile],” the [Bandit Leader] roars, activating his skill. An aura skill, one which is clearly intended to demoralize and cause fear.

The aura, invisible to the naked eye, travels the thirty meters between them and strikes Rathos’s group, a feeling of fear overcoming him and the [Mercenaries] on horseback.

But the feeling only lasts for a moment, at which point Rathos’s own aura, a [General’s] aura, expands out from him, easily eliminating the [Bandit Leader’s] skill and ripping it apart like wet paper.

Immediately the [Mercenaries] relax, their eyes hardening as a sense of power and courage emanates into them from Rathos. A few of the mercenaries look at [Rathos] confusedly, a man they had thought to be a wealthy [Trader].

The [Bandit Leader’s] face takes on a surprised look as he notices that his skill did absolutely nothing. A skill which he had used several times with great effect against even a large force.

Rathos just folds his arms, eyes glazing past the pathetic [Bandits]. Other than the leader, the bandits are barely level twenty, maybe one or two of them are in their thirties, but overall, the enemy force is extremely weak.

“Pathetic,” Rathos says tauntingly, his words carrying the distance with seeming ease.

Snarling angrily, the [Bandit Leader] screams and charges at the caravan, arrows quickly leave the strings of those [Bandits] with bows while all of the others run forwards with their leader, crazed glints in their eyes.

“Do not engage.”

Rathos says with his aura, focusing it only on the [Mercenaries].

“[Steel Skin],” Rathos says, activating a defensive skill, one which extends to those protected by his aura.

What makes [Generals] so feared and so powerful is a unique skill available only to them. They are one of the very few classes that can cast single target skills on a mass scale. This allows skills like [Steel Skin], which strengthens the skin of an individual, to be cast on others, even entire armies if the [General] is good enough.

The arrows strike the [Mercenaries], bouncing off harmlessly while Rathos side steps, easily dodging the arrows with the practiced ease of someone who has a massive amount of experience in combat, the arrows moving slowly to his trained eyes.

Rathos waits, holding his hand up, waiting as the [Bandits] get far enough from the forest.

Twenty-five meters.

Twenty meters

Fifteen meters

“Attack the [Bandits], Leave the leader alone.”

The order comes in like a wave, and Gen, hiding behind with his [Mercenaries], activates several skills in quick succession.

“[Rider’s Calm], [Rider’s Sprint], [Rider’s Footing], [Charging Sprint].”

Quick as a gunshot, all of the horses charge forward at incredible speeds, the wind whipping at their faces as the [Mercenaries] ram into the charging [Bandits] from all sides, completely breaking whatever little organization they have had.

Rathos watches, slightly amazed at the sheer organization of Gen’s men, but even more so with Gen himself. As a [General] who has had several [Cavalry Captains] under his command, officers would usually have about a hundred mounted [Soldiers] at their and one or two skills that assist in making the of mounted soldier more effective.To have four skills is extremely rare and impressive. Any [General] would be proud to have such an individual with such a skill set under their command.

What Gen is doing is splitting his forces, striking with speed and precision from several sides, each time taking several lives and disengaging before a proper counterattack can be done.

The [Bandit Leader] is no exception as he runs towards a [Mercenary] only to find them moving away from him, circling around, and striking again.

Three of the [Mercenaries] can be seen near the treeline, quickly killing off the [Bandits] with bows.

Rathos walks forward confidently, his aura blazing forth from him, applying a mental pressure on the [Bandits], making them panic while also slowing their movements.

At this point, the [Bandit Leader] finally notices Rathos, calmly walking forward, a contemplative look on his face.

Angered, the [Bandit Leader] charges out of the dwindling bandit group and runs straight for Rathos.

Gen, noticing this, attempts to intercept, but stops as Rathos shakes his head.

Rathos stops walking, watching as the leader gets closer and closer.

Once there was only ten feet between the [Bandit Leader] and himself, Rathos activates two skills at once, whispering them beneath his breath.

“[Accelerated Strike], [Accelerated Mind].”

The world slows down around Rathos as his body accelerates forward.

He activates two magical items on his person. An enchanted ring with the effect [Blink Step], allowing him to teleport a very short distance in one direction—A very useful item for surviving [Assassins]. The other item is actually the sheath to his sword with the effect [Instant Laido], a rather weird name for an amazing skill that allows him to unsheath and strike faster than when his sword is already out.

Thus, his form disappears and reappears in front of the [Bandit Leader], whose eyes widen as he attempts to activate a defensive skill. Unfortunately for the [Bandit Leader], Rathos arm blurs as his enchanted sword flicks out and removes his head in an instant.

Re-sheathing his sword, Rathos looks out over the battle, finding that the panicked [Bandits] are on the run and in full retreat. Fortunately, Rathos aura is still slowing them down, making the already fast [Mercenaries] catch up and finish them off with ease.

Overall, no death was reported, though a few cuts and bruises can be seen on the mercenaries. One mercenary received relatively large gash on his side but he was already using a healing potion on the wound, something that is exceptionally expensive to buy as it requires rare ingredients and a high level [Alchemist] class just to produce.

Gen walks forward, his smile bordering on ripping his face open.

“So [General], how did we do?”

Rathos takes a look at Gen, who is covered in sweat while his horse isn't even out of breath, a testament to the impressive breed of battlemare.

“Pathetic.”

Gens smile widens further, something Rathos believed wasn’t possible.

Rolling his eyes, Rathos points behind him, “You left the caravan completely alone, not leaving any of your men to defend it. If there was even a small force coming from another direction, I fear many innocents would have died because of your carelessness.”

Gens face immediately takes a complete one-eighty, realizing the error of his ways. In truth, Gen had wanted to impress Rathos, to show how powerful his group really is, how effective they truly are. His pride and joy [Mercenary] band.

Gens' shoulders sag as he looks towards the caravan, finding that in truth, he could have cost many lives.

Rathos sighs, “Other than that, your offensive was expertly done.” Rathos continues, his eyes watching the [Mercenaries] as they kill off the wounded [Bandits] and strip them of their possessions.

At his words, Gen's smile returns, only to be replied by a scowl from Rathos.

“Your aura is shit,” Rathos quickly adds, having noticed the huge weakness to the mercenary group.

Half smiling, Gen places his hand on the back of his head, a goofy smile on his face.

“Well … yea, but I have the skill [Riders Calm]—”

“Which is no excuse to have a pathetic aura.” Rathos interrupts.

“Your skill is temporary, and the moment it's gone, your [Mercenaries] will panic, making your entire tactic useless.”

Nervous, Gen looks away from Rathos, finding that his men have started looting, “I’ll uhh, go help my men.”

And with those last words, Gen’s horse moves toward the dead bodies, Rathos eyes staring at the young man as he escapes his former mentor's gaze, a gaze accompanied by a now proud smile.

____

That evening, once the group moved and made camp for the night after the attack, Rathos found himself in the same situation before the attack, sitting with his daughter. Except this time, a barrel of beer was opened and many of the [Mercenaries] are indulging with gusto, including his people.

“Do you know if they were after you?” Henrietta asks, her arms carefully wrapped around Izabelle, who is doing her best to stay awake, constantly wiping her sleepy eyes.

Rathos shakes his head, “an't be, such a force is too weak to stop me. We were merely in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

Henrietta goes silent, her eyes watching one of the drunk mercenaries as he attempted to flirt with one of her maids. The maid in question, Anessa, a young-looking cat demihuman, acts uninterested even though her tail swishes in excitement.

Coooo

A soft sound interrupts Henrietta’s musings as she notices that Izabelle, Nafisa’s daughter, has fallen asleep in her lap.

Silently nodding to her master, the fox demihuman lifts up the child and takes her to the carriage, opening the door with one hand and entering silently. She slowly places the child on the seat, laying her down gently, admiring hersimilarity to her mistress … and former lover.

Utilizing her skill [Delicate Touch], the head [Maid] strips the young mistress of her clothing and immediately puts on sleeping clothes. All of this is done extremely quickly, accurately, and without waking Isabelle up.

Once done, she extends a compartment of the seat, doubling its size, and allowing her to get into the carriage next to Izabelle. Her arms wrap around the young girl as she takes a relaxed whiff of Izabelle’s hair, enjoying the same aroma that her mother had.

_____

Rathos watches Henrietta carry his daughter into the carriage, happy to have such a capable servant to take care of his daughter.

As she disappears inside, Rathos takes a long deep breath and stands up, quickly searching through the [Mercenaries] until he finds Gen, sitting alone, watching his men get drunk.

Gen, noticing Rathos' approach, smiles sadly.

“Yah know, you were right Roth. I made a mistake and now I’m paying for it,” Gen says, eyeing the barrel of alcohol longingly.

Rathos mouth twitches, wanting to comfort the man … but there are better ways.

“Oh really, so you are punishing yourself by not taking a drink?” Rathos asks. Gen nods nervously, immediately noticeing the unhappy tone in Rathos’ voice.

“Really now, and I was almost under the impression you just wanted to have a clear mind for the training?”

Gen, confused, finally looks at his former mentor.

“Training?” Gen asks.

Before Gen can react, a massive weight slams into his psyche, forcing his breathing to quicken. Realizing what the training is all about, Gen calls up his aura, weakening the effect Rathos has over him.

Gen forces a smile, impressed that even though he called up his aura to defend himself, he can still feel Rathos’ aura impeding his body.

“Pathetic.”

Gen loses control of his body as he falls to the ground, his aura utterly scattered as he starts to puke excessively, his body shaking in shock.

“It seems, this will be a long night,” the [General] exclaims.

Gen shivers in fear as he realizes that the training has only just begun.

*********************

With a twist, Franky lifts up his shield, allowing the opposing [Soldier’s] sword to slide down its length and for him to pivot his hips and strike out towards his opponent’s exposed side. Unfortunately, the [Soldier] reacts expertly and hops back, avoiding the wooden sword.

But Franky jumps forward anticipating the move, putting all of his weight into his right arm as he bashes the [Soldier] with his shield and forces the man to the ground.

With a quick movement, Franky places his sword next to the man's neck.

“I yield,” the [Soldier] yells.

“Admirable job, [Hero]. It has only been a few days and already you are improving.”

Franky ignores the voice and instead drops his sword, grabs the downed [Soldiers] hand and lifts the man to his feet.

“That was a good bout. You almost had me throughout that fight.”

The [Soldier], just one of the men who protect the city of New Aesir, smiles happily. “Nonsense, lad, you defended against me splendidly. That move you did with your shield was well-timed and unexpected.”

Franky shakes his head, “It was a gamble. If you had dodged, then it would be me on the ground.”

“Master Franky,” a voice calls out behind him.

Rolling his eyes in view of the [Soldier], Franky turns around, finding a lanky man in a robe with a  clearly forced smile on his face.

The older [Soldier] taps Frankie's shoulder,”I will put the weapons away. If you need any more advice, feel free to ask and we will be more than happy to assist you.” The [Soldier] explains, referring to himself and the others who have been watching the fight. All of them found Frankie's rise in power amazing, but even more impressed by how respectful the man has been.

Franky turns his head and smiles at the [Soldier], nodding gratefully.

And then a frown forms on his face as he looks back towards the lanky man.

“What is it, Bernard?” Franky asks, removing the padding from his body.

Bernard, an [Archpriest] of Aesir, continues to smile even though his eyes are quite the opposite. “You really should get tutoring from a [General] instead of these,” Bernard extends his hand, pointing at the [ Soldiers] Franky had asked to train him, ”veterans. They clearly can't possibly be that good considering that they are only [Soldiers].”

Franky forces down the anger rising in him as he does his best to remember his friend Quasi’s advice about summonings.

I really should have believed him. But how was I supposed to know that when he said he was a professional summoned hero, he wasn't joking with me. Damnit. Regardless, I do remember him telling me to never trust those who summon me, that they will always attempt to control me. He also said to stay respectful and milk the summoner's resources.

“Skills. I’ve gained a few, but they are no excuse for proper training. The [Soldiers] which you dislike so much have seen actual battle, have fought and survived, something I find lacking in the [Generals] who attempt to teach me battle tactics without even showing me the basics. They clearly only have the class and not the levels.” Franky explains, removing the last of his padded armor.

Without waiting for a reply, he walks toward the courtyard’s exit.

The lanky man rushes next to him, his body far smaller than Franky’s, who is sporting six feet of height, blond hair, and a weight of two-hundred and fifty pounds, all of which is thanks to his recently gained muscle.

At one time in his life, Franky used to be a typical jock, respected, loved, and the star of the football team. But then he met Quasi and found his life changing dramatically for the better. So much so that when he was offered to play professionally, Franky had declined, preferring to get a job less likely to result in brain injury.

“May I ask where master Franky is going because the usual sermons will begin soon and your acquaintances are there too.”

The acquaintances Bernard is talking about are the other three [Heroes], all of whom seemed to be more than happy to do whatever they are told.

‘And that's why they have leveled so poorly. Barely getting any level in any class. Their training is safe, risk-free, and completely lacking in struggle.’

With a mental command, Franky's interface appears on his screen, revealing his classes, skills, and stats.

Franky Sasco

Level 22 [Warrior]

Level 09 [Hero]

Level 17 [Mage]

Minor Mana Sense

Flickering Strike

Flash Fire

Defensive Instincts.

Analyze

Strength

18

Dexterity

14

Stamina

22

Perception

32

Endurance

13

Vitality

107

Mana

275

M/regen

1.1

Affinity

7

Intelligence

48

Willpower

450

Soul

320

‘The others have barely one class over level ten while I already have two, one of which has exceeded level twenty. Granted, gaining more than one level in a day is almost unheard of by the residents of this world, unless your level is very low or the gods gift them to you.’

‘The gods. The word put a bad taste in my mouth when I remember what Quasi warned me about. “Unless you make the gods sign a contract, never ever fucking trust them. They will rip open your anus the first chance they get.”’

Franky chuckles softly, breaking the silence.

“Master Franky?”

“Bernard, I’ll be training with Matilda tonight, do go in my place,”

A dark look falls upon Bernard as he remembers Matilda, an old retired dungeon diver.

“I find it very wrong for a [Hero] to be learning from a [Witch]. Would it not be better to learn from an [Archmage]?”

In truth, Franky had tried to learn from men and women who had gained over a hundred levels in one of the mage classes but found himself unable to suffer the sheer pompous ignorance of those who think themselves superior.

“Bernard, when one of the other three [Heroes] starts gaining more levels than me in a magic class, then please inform me. Otherwise, Matilda will be fine for my purposes.”

Bernard stopped walking, glared at the [Hero] that strolls through the halls, heading toward the bathes to shower before going to the Divers Guild.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

“Jessica, just [Minor Heal] it. I’ve already severed the nerves connecting its brain to its body. It can’t feel anything,” I explain, standing over a damaged desbat as it fruitlessly attempted to open the mouth that Mule was keeping firmly shut with his skeletal hand.

Early that morning, I had decided to level a bit via killing things, which involved taking Jessica with me. Granted, I did debate about loaning the ring to Anathema, but then decided against it considering how uncomfortable Jessica is around her … I also couldn’t trust Anathema to be civil.

Thus, we left the city early in the morning with all of my undead. We walked a good distance away and screamed loudly … which attracted a few of the desbats that, like the day before, were very easily taken down.

And then I had an idea.

“Look,” I point towards the desbat’s head, “The monster isn’t in pain. Right now it’s only panicking because it doesn't know what else to do. It can't move its body and the only thing it can do is move its head, which is being held down.”

Jessica, wide-eyed, stares down at the monster, its inhuman eyes looking everywhere in panic. Then her eyes move down the body towards several cuts, gashes, and punctures. She takes a deep breath and bites her lip.

“Fine,” she says, giving in, unwilling to argue with the [Hero].

With a trembling hand, she kneels down towards the monster's leg and focuses her mana.

“[Minor Heal].”

______

Quasi watches as her hands start to glow. He focuses on the matrices of mana that slowly mends the wound.

After a minute, Quasi speaks up.

“When you [Minor Heal], do you know what your mana is doing? What’s going through your thoughts? What are you imagining?”

The light dims slightly before returning to normal as Jessica attempts to split her concentration, something Quasi does all the time since his [Bone Levitation] skill is actually a single target, albeit modified for his use.

“I … I just think of my mana flowing into the body,” she says, her forehead wrinkling in concentration.

I scratch my chin in thought.

‘When she casts the [Minor Heal] spell, the mana is unfocused and weak. But it then immediately picks up and becomes more concentrated and focussed, entering the wound before activating its healing effect. Such a change, I can only guess, is due to her goddess’s blessing.’

“I see ... Well, I want you to try something different. Since you have the [Anatomy] skill, I want you to imagine your mana. Instead of dispersing over the wound, imagine it entering the deepest parts. Try to make it ignore the outer skin and only the inside first.”

She slowly nods.

After a moment's pause, I notice a change in the flow of mana. Her energy flows out of her hands, traveling through the skin, and seeping deep within the wound, soliciting the inner cells to regenerate first. And then the mana changes again, not by her, but by the mark on her neck. The mana turns into strands, entering damaged areas, picking and choosing—similar to how a surgeon might use his utensils, so too does the mana pick and choose the worst parts.

The damaged wound starts to heal even faster, fully healing the wound in only a few minutes.

Jessica drops down on the floor breathing heavily. She has a huge smile on her face.

“I did it,” she says between deep breaths.

Giving her a minute, I look at the desbat’s leg, which looks to be completely healed.

I turn to her, her eyes looking into my own. I return her smile.

And then I slice open the leg, recreating the wound once more.

Her eyes pop out in horror, unable to believe that I would destroy all her hard work.

“It’s early morning and practice makes perfect,” I say, a smile on my face while I twirl my bloody knife in the air.

_________________________________

Ignoring the constant shifts in Jessica’s expression, my mind focuses back on the mark on her neck.

‘It’s clearly enhancing the healing spell based on the individual's ability. Which is great because it can teach you to become a better healer … you just need to be able to sense it and copy the movements.’

“Tell me when you recover. I have an idea to help you heal even faster.” I say.

She frowns at me, displeased over the fresh wound. But, she inevitably nods. As she prepares to cast the spell again, I notice that Peter has wandered off again.

*********

Upon returning to the city I was met by a small army of armed [Guards], all eyeing my swarm of desbats. Twenty of the beasts flying, all in perfect condition thanks to a certain [Priestess].

‘If only her skills worked on the dead, then I could restart the heart and have living undead minions.’

Landing my mounts down, I walk toward Jessica and pick her off one of my desbats. Throwing the sleeping and exhausted girl over my shoulder, I head towards Anathema’s home, delighted in the fact that undead only decompose under sunlight.

I ignore the confused looks of several children and adults and walk up the stairs, entering Anathema’s home.

______

Tessa sits at a table, her white scales are quite a bit darker as she struggles to eat her food, something that her mother is making extremely difficult for her to do.

“He was amazing in bed. No wonder you screamed so loud, I cannot think of any female who could stay silent at such a display,” Anathema says with enthusiasm as she stands over her daughter.

Tessa’s eyes roam away from her mother and land on the open doorway where Quasi stands. She freezes at the sight of him.

Her mother has yet to notice.

“Did he slam you into the wall as well? It was rather intoxicating as he held me at the stone, biting my tail while making me scream. Mhmmmm truly, I’ve never been mated properly before. Even your father couldn't make me scream a fraction as loud.”

Anathema shakes her head, her mind thinking of the night before.

Tessa lowers her face, doing her best to avoid Quasi’s gaze. Ultimately failing, she peeks up andlooks into his dazzling cocky smile as he listens to Anathema’s praise over his sexual finesse.

“Ohh, he was so violent and brutal, especially when he came from behind!” Anathema hugs herself, a crazed glint in her eye.

“And then the pleasure came. I started screaming. Orgasm after orgasm came and went. By the end of it, I passed out next to him,” she says fondly and then frowns as she notices her daughter shaking and breathing extremely hard. Her eyes finally turn to the home entrance.

Anathema sees Quasi, standing tall and handsome, with Jessica passed out on his shoulder, giving them a thumbs up.

She smiles, blushing slightly.

“Don't mind me, I'm just passing through,” Quasi says, walking towards the stairs and climbing up to his room.

As Quasi leaves, Tessa falls on the floor, twitching, her mother giving the girl a knowing look.

_________

Entering his room, Quasi places Jessica on the bed, covering her with a fur blanket while he himself sits on a chair, mentally opening up the system.

Level Up x 22

You are now a level 43 [Necromancer].

Three skills awarded:

[Lightless Undead]: You are able to hide the mana glow of your undead at will.

[Minor Undead Modification]: You are able to make small changes to undead under your control.

[Create Skeletal Guardian]: Create a [Skeletal Guardian] utilizing bones in the vicinity. Skeletal Guardian stats are based on the [Necromancer’s] level and the bones used.

I leveled a lot today, mostly from slaughtering over two hundred desbats. Granted, I was aiming at about fifty, but I ended up testing out my other new ability, [Undead Enrage]. It's an impressive ability with a pretty shitty price tag.

[Undead Enrage]

Select one undead. Increase all physical stats by 100% to 300% based on degradation. When the effect ends, the undead explodes.

The explosion was so loud that it drew the attention of a swarm of desbats. The only reason we survived was that I had a small army of my own desbats fighting the new arrivals. By the time the numbers dwindled, Jessica was shaking in fear, my undead were severely damaged, and I gained several levels in both my [Necromancer] class and even my [Noble] class.

Level Up x 27

You are now a level 27 [Noble]

Two skills Awarded:

[Split Concentration]: When you need to think about several things at once, you do it significantly better than the average person.

Aura:[Converging Mana]: When activated and not moving, your spells will cost 20% less to cast.

Surprisingly, I gained [Split Concentration] mid-battle when I was fighting the swarm. I was organizing a defensive perimeter with my undead to distract the swarm while also using my bones to puncture their lungs. It was annoyingly difficult, until halfway through the fight when everything became easier. Like a switch had just activated in my brain.

I didn't know what happened until after the fight, but boy was it good timing.

Unfortunately, [Converging Mana] is an active skill, so I didn't get to use it until after the fight.

Regardless, I won and I got a bunch of levels. Though I wish my new [Necromancer] skills were more useful.

[Lightless Undead] seems gimmicky unless I’m able to get something that can properly use stealth.

[Minor Undead Modification] is actually quite crap. When the system says minor, it really means minor. I created a horn on the desbat’s head … and that's it. Nothing else. It’s a pathetic skill whose only usefulness is to sharpen monster weapons like claws.

And then there’s my third skill, which is both really awesome and extremely unwieldy.

The skill, [Create Skeletal Guardian], is amazing because it pools all of the bones in the vicinity to create a truck-sized bone monstrosity with four legs and eight shieldlike arms. Overall, this thing is powerful, but it has an extremely huge weakness.

The legs are fucking slow. Seriously, I walk faster than it. It would only good for protecting a location, and would have been great against the swarm if it didn't cost my entire mana pool to create. And yes, that’s even while using my staff.

In other words, I can't cast the spell without the staff.

Slightly upset, I open my robe and take out a sharp piece of bone, smiling at the new skill I gained yesterday.

[Enhanced Structural Enchantments]: Enchanted Items are more durable.

A nice skill that makes anything I enchant harder to destroy. It would be very useful if I can figure out a way to enchant my undead.

Too bad the only enchantment I know is [Bloodletting], which I got from copying and disenchanting the dagger. It also seems like metal holds enchantments much better than bone. Which comes to the biggest annoyance of mine. The dagger is literally the only piece of metal I have. I saw the cultists had a bunch of daggers, lots of chains, a few swords here and there, and what do I do? I get rid of them because they didn't seem magical. I thought the bodies would be more useful considering that in a world of skills and levels, good blacksmiths probably pump out cheap basic weapons like that all the time, and corpses seemed like a more useful commodity for a [Necromancer].

Unfortunately, it looks like I’m not going to see more metal for a long, long time. I could leave the dungeon, grab the metal, and come back, but I think it’s a bad idea. That message I received when I entered the dungeon said I would be getting an experience bonus until I left, right? Yeah, I’m not giving the boost up. These gejan have been doing fine without metal anyways.

I shouldn’t dwell on it too much.

I exhale. “Time to work,” I say, calling Mule inside. With a casual mental activation, all of the bones I use for weaponry fly next to me, a pile of 68 nicely sharpened daggers. I pick one up and start activating my [Enchant]: [Bloodletting] skill, hoping to increase my [Enchanter] class two levels from 28 to 30.

This is going to take a while.

*******************

Thorous stands tall, her red scales glinting in the reflective light as she looks towards her entire hunting group. They look at her, confused as to why she had called the meeting.

Her gaze, strong and confident, scans through over the 80 gathered gejan, all with a rather interesting range in classes, though still quite low levels.

“Alright,” she says, her voice not too loud, but not so soft that it wouldn’t be heard, “I’m sure many of you are curious as to why I called all of you here, especially at such a time.”

Many nod, others swish their tails in response, but most just seem curious.

Thorous, still standing tall, opens her mouth, “Anathema plans to send another force of our people towards the sixth floor.” She watches for their reactions.

A rather mixed response. Some are fearful, others are confused, but quite a few of them are excited.

“The plan is to leave within a few cycles … I will be leaving with the group.”

And then the crowd gasps, their tails swishing in panic as that means the hunting group will be left without a leader.

“Why must you go?” a gejan asks.

“Does Anathema not think of the consequences?”

“We cannot allow this,”

More questions and statements, interjections at her leaving rise out from the group, which only makes Thorous angry.

“SHUT IT,” she growls, silencing the group, “I will be leaving and at least twenty of you will be leaving with me. If you have a problem, then explain it to Anathema, because thirty hunters is more than enough to feed the city.”

All of them go silent, upset, but the sheer mention of Anathema raises a sense of dread, fear, and respect.

Finding that the group has started to calm down, she walks forward, gazing into the eyes of the hunting group, “The trip will be dangerous, so I won’t force you to go, but I need twenty of you. Five [Trackers], dive [Scouts], and ten others with a combat class. Any volunteers?”

None step forward, all showing fear and uncertainty. Many of the hunting group have already figured out that the group they sent before has yet to return. They fear the danger.

And they would be right to do so.

“Will it be just us?” one of the female gejan asks.

Thorous shakes her head, “No, we will be joining a large group of [Guards] as well as  Zorren.”

At the mention of the guards and Zorren, three gejan step forward, willing to risk their lives, only because they will be traveling with those who have experience.

Finding that only three people stepped forward, Thorous sighs, unhappy that so many of her hunters were actually such cowards.

Shaking her head, Thorous decides to pick and choose but is stopped as the same asks another question.

“Will the [Hero] be going with us?” she asks, her small frame hiding her relatively large strength stat.

“Yes, he will be leading the entire group.”

And then to her complete and utter surprise, every female steps forward.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

A [Soldier] rushes into the camp with an injured [Soldier] who had deep gashes across his side. The [Soldier], covered in sweat, cuts, and grime, props the injured man on the table. He rushes out of the [Priestesses] tent without a second glance,

Watching the [Soldier] exit the tent, Jessica moves towards the injured body and is surprised to see that the man in question is actually still awake. His eyes look into hers, pleading for help.

Jessica moves her hand down and grabs a dagger from her waist. She slowly moves it towards the man and systematically cuts the clothing out of the way.

She stops, gasping at the surreal sight. The man's organs are hanging out from an opened belly, a wound her magic would have no ability to heal in time.

Saddened, she turns to the man, shaking her head, watching as the man realizes he will die soon.

The man starts to cry, his tears falling from his face as he opens his mouth and coughs up blood.

Jessica moves up alongside the man’s head and places her hands on his temples.

“[Calming Mind],” she says, activating a skill that helps the man relax, his tears stopping soon after as the pain subsides. A moment goes by and the body goes limp, her own tears falling on the man’s forehead.

“May Eir guide you,” she whispers, removing her bloody hands from the man's head, her mental strength all but spent.

Walking outside the tent, she finds several more tents like hers, each housing a [Priestess] of Eir that awaits the next injured from the frontline.

Turning to her right, she looks at a young [Guard] standing at the ready by her own tent.

“A soldier has died inside. Please remove his body,” she orders, watching the man nod before entering her tent and carrying the bloody body out to a ditch already brimming with corpses.

Shaking her head, Jessica reenters the tent, taking a bloody rag and wiping her table clean, or at least as clean as she can. Sitting down on a chair, she hugs herself, trying to ignore the sounds of crying, screaming, and pain. So many lives had been lost today and all because of men who desire power.

Not even a minute passes before two more soldiers enter her tent, carefully putting down an injured woman in armor.

Her armor signifying her as a [Lieutenant], a leader of [Soldiers].

Unlike before, one of the [Soldiers] does not leave the tent.

“Please help her,” the [Soldier] begs in a panicked voice, his body covered with injuries, some of them rather painful gashes, but he just looks at her, holding the [Lieutenant’s] hand while she lay unconscious on her table.

Standing up, Jessica moves toward the table. Several arrows are jutting out from the [Lieutenant’s] body, most having barely penetrated the steel armor. One of them, however, seems to have been a lucky strike and had gone under her armpit, bypassing the armor and puncturing a large vein.

“She helped us. She saved the entire company. Rode in on a horse, activated some skill, and we were able to outrun the enemy,” he explains in panic.

Jessica just nods, listening while she slowly cut the straps off the women's armor.

“But she was hit. And when we made it to a safe position, she fell off her horse unconscious,” he says, watching Jessica as she removes the armor covering the armpit, revealing the  arrow wound that had punctured the vein. Blood still slowly flowed out.

Confused, Jessica moves her hand to the girl's throat, noting that the woman did indeed have a pulse. Looking down, she quickly sees an open pocket on the women's armor, revealing an empty vial of bloodgrass extract, a powerful potion that when consumed will force a body to produce blood. Useful if you cannot deal with injuries at the immediate moment and do not want to be low on blood.

But such an extract is extremely expensive and is usually consumed in small drops.

‘She drank the whole thing. She knew she was bleeding out.’

Jessica moves her hand over the injury and quickly activates her skill. Her hands glowing lightly, her mana already very low, but she perseveres, passing out from the exertion.

***********

When she wakes up, Jessica finds herself back on the leather-covered stone bed, her body lacking any clothing whatsoever.

And then she screams, panicking, holding the leather blanket over her.

But nothing happens, nobody enters, and she slowly calms down realizing that nothing has happened. It was all a dream.

Taking a deep breath, Jessica gets out of bed and finds her clothing folded on a chair next to her bed.

Biting her lip, she walks towards the clothing, slowly putting them on, remembering how crazy the last several days have been. Summoning a [Hero] and becoming his slave. Entering the fog and then waking up to find herself in a dungeon. A dungeon that does not act as a dungeon at all.

The dungeon should be creating monsters. Spawning them and using them to kill invaders. It should be protecting itself from other sentient beings.But instead, it does nothing while an entire race of weird lizard people live safely within.

Jessica stops, her pants halfway up to her waist. She frowns as she remembers what Quasi had said … about how he had sex with them.

A blush slowly creeps upon her face only to be suppressed down when she remembers her oath of chastity to Eir.

Sighing loudly, Jessica continues to dress, her mind going over the events of the day before and the so-called training Quasi had made her do.

A smile creeped along her face as she remembers how much progress she made, how she’d been able to heal so much faster with his advice.

Once the last of her clothes are on, she tiptoes outside of her room and heads toward the stairs. She takes notes of the new leather and bone container on Mule’s back.

‘It’s rather weird. I was so afraid of these undead when their eyes shun a green skeletal light, but the purple light seems so relaxing, strong … safe.’

Shaking her head, she heads down the stairs. She finds the place empty except for some dried meat on the table and the fruit juice the lizard people seem to have.

_____

Taking a moment to eat her fill, Jessica walks outside and looks for any sign of Quasi. She finds nobody, no doubt due to the confusing nature of the buildings, all of which look eerily similar with no signs stating directions.

Which, when you think about the fact that they live inside a dungeon, the ability to write seems to be much less important.

Jessica continues down the stairs to the center of the city; to dungeon stone and n where Quasi is most likely to be.

_______

Moving through the streets, Aisha takes a left and then a right. She cuts through an ally before climbing onto a roof. Her eyes see nothing, but her senses allow her to pinpoint objects so long as light descends from the stalactite.

Aisha had learned to notice the mana as it reflects off surfaces. She can visualize the strong bright impacts and imagine the structure it encompasses. The only thing stronger are living beings, and one of the two new friends Aisha had made shined the brightest.

Smiling, Aisha quickly jumps from building to building, sliding off a roof, landing on the ground with a roll, and quickly rushing towards the beacon in the distance.

“Jessica!” Aisha yells, running towards the light that is so familiar to her.

The human light turns around and gets on one knee, her arms opening widely.

Jumping into Jessica’s arms, Aisha grabs hold of her neck and enjoys the comforts of embrace.

“Aisha,” Jessica starts, her arms around the young gejan, “It's nice to see you. How have you been?”

Aisha returns the smile. Today is so much better, especially with a hug.

______________________________________________________________

Jessica chuckles as the young gejan shoves her face into Jessica chest, eliciting a satisfying and muffled, “Good”.

Jessica picks her up, holding her with both hands, watching closely as the Gajan moves her head away, taking a deep breath.

“Are we gonna play now, ” she asks with a smile, her voice high pitched but not yet fully developed.

“Maybe, but I first need to find out where Quasi is,” Jessica explains to Aisha.

Hearing the name of her other friend, her tail swishes in excitement but she forces a frown, a rather failed attempt.

“He said he is busy,” Aisha pouted. “e said he needs to train [Soldiers],” she explains again, her pout barely visible while her tail swishes excitedly.

Lifting an eyebrow, Jessica smiles slyly. She remembers when she was a child. She'd get excited about amazing people and enjoy stories about Named beings or Diver teams. In Aisha’s case, Quasi would probably be the equivalent of the same thing, except in the flesh.

“So where is he?” Jessica asks.

Aisha lifts her finger and points towards the wall.

“He’s outside with a bunch of gejan,” she explains.

Nodding, Jessica strengthens her hold on Aisha and starts walking in the direction she had been pointing.

“Then let's go find him,” Jessica says, eliciting a pout from Aisha.

“And maybe convince him to play with us.”

The pout quickly turns into a smile and then followed by a nod.

____________________________________________

Jessica makes it to the wall under Aisha's guidance. She climbs  up quite a few stairs and soon finds herself at the top of the wall, where a plethora of children were watching curiously over.

The children give Jessica a quick glance before returning their gaze outside the city.

Following their gaze, Jessica is quickly treated to the amazing sight of several hundred gejan training with bone weaponry … and getting yelled at by Quasi.

“Stop fucking getting hit! I gave you goddam shields,” he yells.

“I don't fucking care if your scales are harder than the shield. Whacking each other with a piece of bone is not fighting! You need to learn to block or you are going to get killed by something that will penetrate those scales.”

The gejan that are being yelled at are actually the gejan [Guards], who had learned to fight from the druella nest, a caved area with swarms of low-level rat-like enemies the gejan used to train young males into the guard class.

One of the males, sick and tired of getting yelled at, drops his shield and club. His scaled face hisses angrily, revealing his razor-sharp teeth as his tail swishes predatorily.

Like the other males of his kind, he is tall, strong, and covered in powerful scales.

“This training is worthless!,” He yells, walking towards Quasi, “Why must we learn how your weak kind fight. Your kind use magic. We gejan do not,” he continues, stopping twenty feet from Quasi, “the only reason we are even doing this training is because Anathema ordered us.” He seethes, glaring angrily at the human who sat lazily on a large stone extending from the ground.

Hearing his shouting, the other gejan [Guards] stop their training, as does  the entire hunting group and  the younger untrained gejan who wanted to join the expedition.

In total, about 350 gejan stop and turn to watch  Quasi, unsure of how he will react.

A smile forms on Quasi's face, a smile similar to one a predator makes when pathetic prey thinks themselves stronger.

With a relaxed movement, Quasi grabs his staff and jumps off the rock, twirling the staff in his hands expertly as he makes his way toward the angry gejan.

“Fine then, let me show you what my kind can do without magic,” Quasi says, bending his knees and taking on a defensive stance.

Without waiting another second, the gejan [Guard], angry, extends his claws and rushes towards the human.

Quasi, lowers his stance, jumps out of the way, dodging the clawed attack by mere centimeters.

Still smiling, Quasi weaves expertly around the gejan, seemingly dancing, weaving around his  blows with the most minimal of movements, always centimeters from getting hit, but never actually making purchase.

Having seen the endurance of the scales, Quasi changes his movement, twirling the staff in his hands, increasing his speed while still dodging the frustrated swipes of the gejan, who is starting to slow.

With a final quick dodge, Quasi spins his body around and slams his staff into the gejan’s leg, creating a loud clang and dislocating the gejan’s knee, forcing the four-hundred-pound gejan to lose his footing.

Without breaking his momentum, Quasi uses the impact of the strike to spin his staff in the other direction, jump into the air and slam his staff down on the gejan’s back, crushing the lizard into the ground, cracking scales and internal bone.

The whole movement was so fast and precise that the Gajan did not even have time to scream before being struck unconscious.

Quasi stands back up, turns away from the unconscious Gajan, and looks at the onlooking crowd. All of the gejan stood straighter, showing newfound respect towards the [Hero] who had just beaten down a level 63 in two hits.

To the side, the hunting group just stares at him lustfully, especially the  females who find powerful males extremely attractive.

“Back to training,” Quasi yells, activating his [Loud Voice] skill and making sure all of his trainees heard.

At the sound of his voice, the gejan immediately resume their training, putting significantly more effort than before.

Turning away from the gejan army, Quasi mentally calls up one of his desbats, having it fly towards him. Once landed, Quasi mounts the undead and orders it to carry him to the wall where the group of fifty children talk excitedly, having watched the entire fight from start to finish.

_______

Jessica watches as the undead latches onto the side of the wall and allows Quasito dismount and walk up to her.

“Enjoy the fight?” Quasi asks, a cocky grin on his face.

A grimace forms on Jessica's face as she looks towards the unconscious gejan on the ground.

“Will he need healing?” She asks, ignoring Quasi's question.

Pausing, he leans over the wall and looks towards the prone figure, “Nah, it would be best to let him heal naturally. He needs to learn his limits, otherwise he is going to be a liability to himself and to those around him.”

Jessica slowly nods, understanding the situation, perfectly content to let the [Hero] handle everything.

“What happened?” Aisha asks confused.

“Quasi had a fight and won,” Jessica answers, tightening her hold on the young gejan.

“Ohhhhh, so that was why he was moving so fast,” Aisha exclaims, having only seen the light of Quasi’s movement.

Before Aisha can say anymore, the sound of screaming children rings out from far down the wall.

“Crap,” Quasi calls out, quickly mounting his undead, “I will see you later.” He says, ordering his undead to fly.

“Jessica, make sure you go to the dungeon stone,” he yells, waving away.

At that moment, the group of gathered children start to whine, watching the [Hero] fly away.

Smiling, Jessica looks down, finding Aisha looking back at her, her gray eyes seeing nothing.

“Want to go visit the dungeon stone?” Jessica asks.

“Ok,” Aisha answers with a smile, laying her scaly head back down on Jessica’s chest.

Turning away from the training soldiers, Jessica heads down the stairs and toward the giant glowing stalagmite.

**************************

“So, you are admitting he is capable,” Anathema says, watching as Zorren uses a crystal to smooth out a massive bone club.

Zorren ighs.As much as I hate to admit it, that [Hero] knows what he is doing,” he answers, continuing to scrape the bone with care.

“Ohhhhh … how so?” Anathema says, amused, especially considering that Zorren had very much disliked the idea of Quasi leading.

Zorren stops, placing down the piece of crystal, “He is showing impressive leadership, leadership equivalent of someone with a high level in a [Chieftain] class. He has already gained the respect of our people.”

An annoyed frown forms on Zorren’s face, “Especially the females.”

Anathema snorts loudly, suppressing a laugh and getting an annoyed glare from Zorren in return.

“I’m serious, it’s like he is using a skill on them. The males have come to me. Me of all people, complaining that the females are ignoring them.”

Zorren shakes his head, “The hell am I supposed to do about that.”

Anathema laughs, enjoyed the annoyed and confused expression on Zorren’s face.

“Oh, it's not a skill. You should know that gejan females are attracted to strong males. Our instincts are telling us that he has massive potential, and each time he proves it, we get more and more turned on, wanting to carry his egg.”

Zorren shakes his head, grabbing the piece of crystal shard and working on the bone once more, a rather slow process due to his lack of a usable arm.

“Tell me Anathema, what is the [Soldier] class?”

A confused look forms on Anathemas face, her scales crunching up on her forehead, “I may have heard of the class, but I don't remember too well what it is for. Why are you asking?”

“I am asking because your [Hero] has forced more than half the Gajan to pick up that class.”

“What?” Anathema says, getting angry for the first time.

“Yes, after the training, he told them to take up the [Soldier] class.” Zorren reiterates.

Anathema’s tail swishes, showing her teeth, “Does that idiot not realize that more classes makes it harder to level? It is best to only have one class, otherwise you are weakening yourself.”

Clank

Zorrens crystal shard breaks, a piece of it falling on the floor. Frowning, he grabs another shard and continues his work on the bone, “Maybe … but I don't think he would weaken the gejan unless there are benefits to be made.”

Anathema’s face softens slightly, having realized that the damage has already been done and that there is little she can do to fix the problem.

She ighes.You’re right, might as well let him have his way. Not like I can get angry at him, especially considering how he was in bed.”

Clank

Zorren’s crystal breaks again, his hand shakes, and then relaxes as he grabs another crystal, a frown clearly on his face. But he stays silent.

“How will he handle the dungeon boss?” Anathema asks, changing the conversation. “It is rather difficult to kill that thing. We usually lose people every time we fight.”

“He won't,” Zorren answers quickly. “He asked me to kill it, saying that he would rather not lose any gejan to it unless it is absolutely necessary.”

“Oh? And you think you can kill it on your own?” Anathema asks, folding her arms across her chest.

Zorren stops scraping and, putting the piece of sharp crystal back on the pile, stands up from his seat.

He reaches to grab the bone handle and picks it up with his good hand, test swinging the 200 pounds easily with one hand, “Fighting monsters is much easier than fighting someone who can bury you into the ground,” he says, giving Anathema an annoyed look before setting the bone back on the table.

“Did he tell you when he said he will leave?” Anathema asks, watching as Zorren walks toward his bed. He sits down, contemplating the battle he will soon need to fight.

“At cycle start.”

Noticing that the conversation has ended, Anathema leaves, allowing him to mentally prepare while she heads toward her home, contemplating on sneaking into Quasi’s room.

*************

Walking closer to the dungeon stone, the first thing I notice is the the lack of guards.

Normally, two gejan [ Guards] would be stationed near the stone, standing strong and tall to protect it from wandering curious children.

But today no guards can be seen, more than likely being trained by Quasi for his army.

‘An army. In only a few days he is already building an army.’

Tightening my hold on Aisha, who elicits a soft coo in response, I step forward and extend my hand, placing it upon the dungeon stone, a sense of excitement washing over me.

Congratulations!

[Priestess] class has increased to level 46

Skill [Minor Heal] has been upgraded to skill [Heal]

New skill awarded.

You have gained the Skill [Anesthetic Touch]

Requirements Met. Attempting to upgrade class [Priestess] to class [Medic]

… … ... Upgrade failed. Entity Eir has restricted class change.

Class upgrade cancelled.

The words flow into my mind, an ethereal thing considering all I am doing is placing my hand upon a stone.

Shaking my head, I remove my hand from the wall and stare at the stone in bewilderment.

‘For some people it takes years to gain six levels, especially if the class is of a higher level.’

A frown forms on my face.

‘I've heard of class restrictions, of classes unable to be obtained due to a devotion of a god. But I did not think it would happen to me.’

‘And what is that [Medic] class? I’ve never heard of it before.’

“Jessica,”

Pulled out of my thoughts, I look down, being met with Aisha’s concerned gaze.

I smile towards the child, tightening my hold on her.

‘What is it with children that puts me in such a good mood?’

“Can we go play now?” Aisha asks, her tail swishing back and forth.

I nod, slowly walking away from the stone. My worries and thoughts fading away as I focus on what's important at this moment.

“Yea … lets go play.”

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

New Asgard is a massive city located on the north-western side of the continent. The city, built upon a tier 7 dungeon, is controlled by the church of Odin, the most powerful force in the Aesir lands.

At the center of the city is a massive palace where the [Grand Chancellor] of Odin resides. And to those in the know, it is also the location where the [Heroes] were summoned.

After washing and cleaning himself, Franky finds himself leaving the palace, stopping momentarily to admire the intricate marble statue of Odin, the leader of the Aesir gods. His form, depicted in a robe, is sitting upon a throne while several crows perch upon his shoulders. His left eye gazes forward while his right is replaced by a clear white jewel, signifying his ability to see everything.

Frowning, Franky removes his gaze from the statue and steps outside the palace, giving a smile and a nod to the two [Guards] standing ready at the gates.

The [Guards], noticing the [Hero], immediately salute, their hands going to their chest, making a clunking sound.

Franky shakes his head.

“No need for the formalities guys, I would rather you treat me as you would a fellow [Guard].”

The [Guards] do not answer, merely keeping their heads low and fist to chest, watching silently as the [Hero] passes them by.

Rolling his eyes, Franky increases his pace, traveling further away from the massive palace and entering the [Nobles] quarters.

The [Nobles] quarters, a place with clean roads, flowers everywhere, expensive carriages, and of course, the nobility, who merely give Franky a curious look as they watch him jog down the street, unknowing who the young man actually is.

The [Grand Chancellor] had ordered information about the [Heroes] identities to be kept secret, only allowing the public to know that they had indeed been summoned.

Regardless, Franky ignores the looks he is getting, especially considering he is dressed in a [Inquisitor's] robe … that has been turned inside out.

Several minutes pass by as Franky enters the [Traders] bazaar, an area bustling with people of various kinds. [Traders] yell out their prices from stalls twinkling with every kind of goods imaginable. Weapons, armors, clothing, magical trinkets, food.

The last stall had almost made him stop. The smell of roast meat, fresh bread, and various herbs was a rather enticing smell. The aromas seem to bend and weave, doing their best to attract his attention.

But Franky is not one for distractions, so he continues his jogging pace, weaving through the crowds with ease until he  finds himself in front of a massive building several stories high.

Franky stops, looking at the massive red-trimmed sign upon the building.

DIVERS GUILD

Entering through the sturdy double doors, Franky is  immediately greeted by the  whiff of alcohol and food, all accompanied by the chatter of several groups of divers, sitting and chatting while drinking and eating, planning their next dive or celebrating a successful one.

Divers are groups of people who make their living diving into dungeons, gathering rare materials, and returning alive.

Dungeons will do whatever is in their power to make sure the ‘returning alive’ aspect of their jobs does not happen.

“Franky!” a big man sporting a huge battle axe on his back yells out, waving a mug in the air.

Smiling back at him, Franky diverts his path, traveling to the table seating four.

“Brock, last I saw you, you were heading into the dungeon. I presume everything went remarkably well.”

Brock, a shit-eating grin on his face, points at an object one of his teammates is holding fondly.

The teammate, a young elf [Mage], a rarity to be found in human lands as he was told, is caressing a seemingly boring-looking staff with a jewel on the top of it.

Lacking any skill to identify items, Franky looks back at Brock and asks, “so what does it do?”

Brock opens his mouth, only to frown as he turns towards his other teammate, a rather young, petite girl who seemed to be glaring daggers at him.

“Jessa, can you please stop kicking me. It's very unladylike.”

Jessa continues to glare.

“Stop giving out secrets you oaf. We paid good money for an [Enchanter] to look into the staff.”

Brock stops, frowning, his hand slightly moves, then he looks back towards Franky.

“It creates ice traps.”

DING

Jessa jumps out of her seat, holding her foot with one hand while hopping on her other foot.

“Fucking ... stupid ... shield,” she exclaims.

Looking down, Franky notices Brock’s shield placed in front of his shins, protecting him.

“Oy, Sibi, heal my foot, I think I might have broken my toe,” Jessa says, quickly removing her boot and pointing her naked injured foot toward the elf while balancing on one leg, a rather easy feat for a [Rogue].

Siberia ignores the [Rogue], continuing to caress the staff as one would a child.

“SIBERIA!” Jessa yells, hopping closer, her foot now mere inches from the elf’s face.

The elf turns her head, finding Jessa’s foot an inch from her nose, the smell making her nose crinkle.

The foot in question wiggles its toes.

“Heal?”

An annoyed look crosses Siberia’s face as she lifts her hand, slapping the offending appendage away, eliciting a squeal of pain and another onset of hopping from Jessa.

Smiling and shaking his head, Franky looks at the last person of Brock’s group, a short man with a huge round belly and an instrument that looks like a guitar at his side. The man in question is a dwarven [Bard], who is currently asleep in his chair, head tilted back while drool can be seen falling out of his mouth.

“So Brock, I’m guessing you're going to let Siberia keep the staff?”

Brock nods, “Yup, it's a good staff, and the ability it grants makes it much easier for me to do my job, especially considering my new skill.”

“Oh, you leveled up?”

“Yup, take a guess on my level,” he says, a huge happy smile on his face.

“[Analyze]” Franky calls out, eliciting a pout from Brock.

Brock

Level 60 [Shield Warrior]

Brock is the current leader of the diver team Emerald Shields.

“You know, people take offense when you use skills without permission on them.”

“Aha, luckily you're not most people,” Franky says, enjoying the banter with this group.

Franky had met the Emerald Shields the first time he entered the Divers Guild. He was looking for information, information that isn't bastardized by the [Priests], but quickly found himself being flirted on by Jessa.

She was curious about Franky and why he was wearing an [Inquisitor's cloak], something that would be punishable by death if found you were wearing it.

Luckily, Brock came in and saved the day by literally picking Jessa up and placing her on his shoulder, ignoring her squeals of outrage.

“So, I’m guessing you're heading out to see grandma?” Brock asks, pointing towards a staircase going downward.

Yup, Matilda, the [Witch], is actually Brock’s grandmother. Brook had introduced the two of them after Franky had told him he was looking for magic lessons.

“I am. Hopefully she will be ready for me.”

Smack

A foot lands upon Brock’s cheek, its toes wiggling.

“I need a potion,” Jessa announces.

Chuckling, Franky shakes his head, enjoying the growing outraged expression on Brock’s face.

“Well, it seems you're a bit busy Brock, so I’m going to head down for training.”

Brock merely nods, his eyes glaring  at Jessa, who looked at him expectantly.

_______

Leaving the group with a smile on his face, Franky moves toward the stairs, taking relaxed, easy steps down to the basement and the location of several trainers for hire.

Entering the basement, a long passage greets him, lit with magical lights on the ceiling, eliminating the lack of light which would be present otherwise. To the right and left of the passage are several doors, each door leading to a trainer, all of whom are retired divers who now offer their talent to train the next generation.

Franky walks down the passage and stops at a black armored door, knocking lightly on the hard enchanted wood.

A moment later Franky hears the sound of shuffling as the door slowly opens, revealing an old lady with an annoyed look on her face.

The annoyed look takes a complete one-eighty, replaced by an energetic smile instead.

“Franky! It’s so nice to see you again. Have you come back for more training?”

______

I nod slowly. Staring at her wrinkly face, the face of someone who has lived quite a long life.

“Right. Please come in,” she says, stepping out of the way and allowing me to enter her not at all humble abode.

Her classroom, if it can be described as such, is covered in papers, dust, unorganized furniture, and various contraptions I had never seen before. Overall, it looks like the room had been through a tornado.

“Matilda, you really should clean this place up a bit,” I say, watching as an actual rat shuffles out of a pile of papers, notices me, and then runs back into the massive pile.

“That’s Jeffrey, he’s harmless.”

Shaking my head, I turn to one of the cleaner seats at the far side of the room.

I sit down on the chair, watching as Matilda sits down across me, her black robe, stained with possibly blood but it could really be anything considering the nature of her class, covering her rather skinny visage.

She puts up her hand, not allowing me to speak.

“First, let’s blind your little stalkers.”

She claps her hands. ”[Zone of Disturbance]”

The walls start to glow, runes hidden within the stone depths come to light, glowing immaculate colors of various designs. Mana flows from her arms, blending around me as they form and converge, sending a sensation of pressure on my psyche.

And just as fast as it happens, the pressure subsides, the runes going dormant around me.

I blink, shaking my head, confused.

“What … what just happened?”

Matilda smiles in return, “Well, I created a zone which nullifies all scrying spells and spying abilities. As of right now, nobody is able to listen to our conversations.”

She leans forward, “So you can speak freely ... [Hero].”

My eyes widen, and then immediately focus.

“What do you want?” I say, slightly panicking that she figured out my identity so quickly.

She smiles back, “Coin,”

I stop, looking at her relaxed expression.

“Hehehe, what? Did you expect this to be some convoluted plot for me to kidnap you and attempt to sell you off to some other country for a fortune that would allow me to live the rest of my life in luxury?”

She pauses, her eyes widening.

“Huh … now that I think about it, that would have been quite a great plan.”

I look at her, confused. But a smile slowly forms on my lips as I remember something Quasi had told me.

‘The most trustworthy people tend to be the weirdest. Always make friends with them. More often than not, they're not plotting your downfall. The worst they will ever do is drug you and take you to bed.’

I relax on my chair, watching as Matilda has her hand on her chin, her mind someplace else.

‘Heh, it's funny how Quasi's ramblings about his job as a hero has been helping me out tremendously this past week. He always said  I had the qualities to be summoned.’

I reach into my pocket and take out a small bag of silver Drachme, the most common coin in the world of Orbis, and plant it on the table with a clank, immediately grabbing Matilda's attention.

Her eyes move to the bag.

“All yours after training,” I say.

She frowns.

“You know, the amount of coin you are paying me is significantly more than my rates. It's actually the main reason why I decided to figure out who you are.”

‘You must  have an extensive spy network considering barely any [Nobles] even know how many heroes were even summoned.’

I nod.

“As long as I continue to improve my [Mage] class, I doubt they care how much coin I spend.”

Her hands go up to her lips, looking down towards an entire month’s worth of her wage.

She nods.

“That's fine.”

She gets up and moves toward a pile of clothes. She quickly rummages through them, finding a rather old wooden staff with a jewel at the end.

She quickly returns and hand’s it to me.

I take the staff, confused as my hand touches the worn-down wood.

“I was warned to learn magic without a staff, that it would be best to cast spells without a crutch.”

She rolls her eyes, “Are you talking about those [Archmages], a bunch of pricks they are, being born into a family of mages, learning magic at an extremely young age.”

She waves her hand.

“Those idiots know nothing of training someone of a low-level class. They probably expect you to have the [Mana Sense] skill already.”

She sighs, glowering, “They’re powerful, but that's it. Any diver [Archmages] can outspell them even if they have twenty levels more than them.”

I nod, acknowledging that as strong as these [Archmages] may be, they have an exceptionally crippling ego.

“But enough about them, last time you were here, I had you learn to sense your mana and forming complicated shapes. And you seem to have been a prodigy at it, already gaining seventeen levels.”

Indeed, the training, once I got the hang of it, was rather easy, giving me several levels.

“But I didn't get the [Mana Sense] skill, only the minor version.”

She smiles, showing her teeth.

“The skill manifests itself after you are able to do it subconsciously, which requires constant practice, same as learning spells …” she stops.Did you gain any spells when you hit level ten?”

“Yes, I gained the spell [Flash Fire].”

She smiles, her eyes twinkling.

“Wrong, what you gained was the skill, not the spell. It's very different. A skill of a spell is the most efficient version of that spell, allowing you to activate it using a fixed and extremely low mana cost. The skill is extremely efficient, but is also considered a crutch as it does not allow you to manipulate it as you could the spell.”

I frown, confused.

Matilda nods, noticing my lack of understanding.

“Here's an example. Your [Flash Fire] skill is a basic fire attack that sends a fiery explosion from your palm. It's quick, efficient, and powerful. But someone who has the spell mastered could infuse more mana to make the explosion wider, hotter, or even farther.”

My eyes widen. “So the skill itself is useless at higher levels?”

She smiles. She looks down at her hand and removes a ring.

“Normally, yes, but skills can be upgraded. If, say, you learned the spell [Flash Fire], then your [Flash Fire] skill will upgrade to a more advanced and powerful variant.”

‘Huh ...'

She leans forward, placing the ring on the table and pushing it towards me.

I pick it up, finding that the metal is rather plain.

“And this is …”

“A minor identification ring. Not that special, but it allows you to use a weak [Identify] spell to get a better understanding of magical items,” she crosses her arms. “I find it amazing that the Church didn't even give you any proper items. Regardless, the ring is yours, please use it on the staff.”

Putting the ring on, I point at the staff. “Identify.”

The feeling of mana can be felt moving through my body, converging toward my finger, entering the ring.

And nothing happens.

I grimace.

“You have to make sure the ring is touching the item you are casting the spell on,” Matilda calls out from her chair, enjoying the view of a [Hero] struggling to use a rather simple magical item.

“You would think there would be some kind of instruction manual or something … whatever.”

I move the ring and touch it to the staff.

“[Identify].”

Elven Training Staff. (Rare)

Increases mana control by 272%

Increases mana cost by 572%

A staff created by an elven [Enchanter] to help young elven children learn to control their mana.

‘I don't understand.’

“What's the point of this staff?”

This doesn't seem useful. I would run out of mana very quickly.

“The point is to help you get a better understanding of what control feels like.”

She leans forward, extending her hand. Her palm opens, and a blue sphere of light forms above it. The sphere quickly morphs into different geometric shapes like squares, triangles, octagons.

“The first part of becoming a proper mage is learning to properly control your mana.”

The mana above her palm morphs again, forming into complicated circles which are integrated into each other. Interesting and complicated designs can be seen around the circle's edge.

“Once you have control, you can start attempting to learn spells.”

The mana on her palm starts to changes, circles melding into each other until a ball of red flame forms, heat quickly emanating from her palm.

Then, just as quickly, the ball of flame disappears, an exhausted look overcoming her face as she lays back on the chair.

“Wow, been a while since I used that much mana.”

I give her a confused look.

‘Isn't she a level 90 something [Witch]?’

“Making mana that can actually  be seen requires a significant amount of mana concentration. It's not easy, kid.”

She stretches her arm and cracks her neck rather loudly.

“Ohh, that one was pretty good.”

She points at the staff on the table.

“Anyways, I want you to use the staff to create a shape, any simple shape. The staff should make it easy. Then, after you figure out how, practice doing it without the staff. Only when you master the shape without the staff are you allowed to use the staff again for another shape. Rinse and repeat.”

I nod, grabbing the staff, mentally ordering my mana into it.

_________

‘A [Hero] eh? I did not expect to get such an interesting student.’

I watch as he sends his mana through the staff, a concentrated look on his face. He nods and places the staff on the table. His eyes close as he attempts to recreate whatever shape he did.

Normally, this type of training is only done by elven children because elves naturally have a very large amount of both innate mana and mana regen. A normal human child would find it very difficult to even use the staff as the sheer mana requirement would cause them to pass out.

‘But [Heroes] are different, aren't they?’

At first I thought he was some kind of son of a rich [Lord] who was found lacking in the ability to use magic, so much so that the school would not accept him.

And I would have told the kid to go home and to find another class.

But my big oaf of a grandson had introduced him to me, so I felt it would be in my best interest to at least attempt to teach him.

So I did.

First, I explained to him how to sense mana, and to my surprise, he got the hang of it rather quickly.

Then I instructed him to move it around mentally. I placed clear mana stones in both his arms and told him to make them light up at the same time.

He instead gave me a confused look and asked how.

At this point, I should have realized something was wrong considering his ignorance of something so simple. I explained to him that they lit up when near mana and that he would need to focus his mana into both hands at the same time.

After explaining, I left him and went to grab something to eat.

When I came back, he had both crystals glowing.

I was flabbergasted–it usually takes the average student a week to learn to manipulate mana separately and he did it in less than an hour.

After that display, I started showing him better ways of control, of thought, of practice, quickly becoming mesmerized by his rather quick learning and exceptionally large mana pool.

If I had not misplaced my staff of [Analyze], I would have immediately checked to see if the young man had gained any levels in the [Mage] class, for surely he had the class.

Several hours later, he thanked me and left a bag on my table, telling me he would be back for more training.

Granted, since he was a good student and a friend of Brock’s, I would have waived the fee, but he left the bag, telling me I deserve it.

It was only when I opened the bag did I think something was extremely wrong. The bag contained an entire month’s pay … for an entire class of students.

After he left, I got in touch with several individuals I know, paid some coin, and found out that the person who I had been teaching was actually one of the summoned [Heroes].

“I did it!” Franky calls out, face covered in sweat, looking into the air, the location that his mana is probably at.

‘A month. It takes a month for the average student to even attempt to make even an outline of a shape, let alone a complete one.’

Franky shakily grabs the staff, a smile on his face, similar to a child after he completes something difficult.

“Franky,” I call out.

He stops and turns his head to me.

“Avoid training when you have low mana. Low mana will muffle your head, making it difficult to learn.”

He frowns, “and what should I do in the meantime.”

‘Most people would be happy with a break, but not you.’

“Release a bit of mana and circulate it through your body like I explained the last time you were here. This will help you call on your mana quickly and allow you to cast faster.”

He nods, closing his eyes and doing just that.

‘Seventeen levels in three days. [Heroes] truly are amazing.’

I shake my head, my thoughts shift back to the church and on what they will do once they find out they have lost sight of their [Hero].

______________

BOOM

A loud sound shakes the classroom, causing Franky to lose concentration on the geometric shape he is attempting to make.

The runes on the wall glow, protecting the stone from cracking.

“What was that?” he asks, turning towards Matilda, who had a complicated look on her face.

“I think our training session today has come to an end. It would be best for you to head home and come back on another day.”

Confused, Franky nods and stands up shakily. Sitting for several hours had caused his legs to fall asleep.

Leaving the staff and coin behind, Franky walks to the exit, unlatching the lock and opening the door.

“Oh, and Franky.”

I turn to look at Matilda as she stands over a table with various items and papers scattered about, “Continue your mental exercises. A good foundation is key to using spells properly.”

He nods and closes the door behind, thoughts focusing on the loud sound that had emanated from above.

Walking towards the stairs, Franky mentally calls up his stats.

Franky Sasco

Level 22 Warrior

Level 09 Hero

Level 23 Mage

Minor Mana Sense

Flickering Strike

Flash Fire

Defensive Instincts

Analyse

Strength

18

Dexterity

14

Stamina

22

Perception

32

Endurance

13

Vitality

107

Mana

281

M/regen

1.1

Affinity

7

Intelligence

48

Willpower

450

Soul

320

He had gained six levels in the [Mage] class after only a couple of hours of training, which had increased his mana reserves by … six.

Which, from what he understands, is normal. What isn't normal is that a [Mage] around his level would typically  have only a hundred mana at most and a significantly lower mana regen.

The only thing that upsets Franky is that he did not gain any skills when he hit level twenty in the class. He had been told that most people gain a new skill every ten levels, but it doesn't happen always.

Sighing, Franky walks up the stairs, finding himself in the lobby. He watches as every diver now huddles at a window, looking outside the guild building.

Confused, Franky moves towards a window that is seemingly open and is greeted with a rather amazing sight.

A group of men with the church’s insignia stand before the building. Over twenty of them. A couple of them are in robes, while the majority are in shining gold armor, signifying them as [Paladins], one of the most powerful classes the church has to offer, and one that requires a level of at least one hundred to obtain.

Such a sight would normally cause awe and fear, making entire armies shake in their boots.

But instead, fear can be seen through the holes of the [Paladins’] helmets as they take on a defensive posture, shields pointed toward an individual.

A woman with long, flowing red hair, covered in leather armor with several enchanted items on her person, and a beautifully crafted spear on her back. She stands on cracked stone, her arms folded as she glares menacingly at the churchmen.

She opens her mouth.

“Leave!” she says one word.

As she speaks, a feeling of power settles on Franky’s consciousness. His body heats up and his throat starting to feel dry as a status effect forms into view.

You are under the effect of [Scorching Ground]

You are 172% more susceptible to being set on fire.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Sweat starts to trickle down Franky’s face as his body temperature rises,, even the air, which was a nice cool temperature, is starting to feel like an oven.

Wiping the sweat from his face, Franky leans forward, watching as one of the robed individuals takes a step forward, his robe signifying him as an [Inquisitor] of the church of Odin.

“I am [Inquisitor] Joseph and I demand you step aside. We have business inside the divers guild.”

Though his posture is steady, Franky notices the rather large beads of sweat pouring down his face.

The woman lifts an eyebrow, looking at Joseph as one would an annoying insect.

“The [Guild Mistress] has left for a meeting and will not return for another weak. I have been entrusted to make decisions in her place for the time being.”

She frowns, looking at the sweating man, “And I have decided you and your people will not be entering the guild. Now leave.”

The [Inquisitor]’s face turns a dark shade of red as he attempts to control his anger. His hands form into fists as he looks at the woman, who just stares back at him, unmoving and appearing bored.

___

Confused as to why the churchmen are defensive, Franky whispers and activates his [Analyze] on Joseph and then on the woman with the fiery red hair.

Joseph Selenos.

Level 137 [Inquisitor].

Level 57 [Noble]

One of the higher leveled [Inquisitors] of the church of Odin, he left his noble family at a young age and quickly rose through the ranks of the church, becoming a force to be reckoned and respected.

Calidi Flammenwerfer, the Scorching Star

Level 217 [Lancer Archmage]

Level 189 [Magmamancer]

One of the most powerful individuals in existence. Calidi earned the title of Scorching Star after jumping several thousand meters into the air, mimicking a star, and then landing upon a Wyvern nest, turning the entire area into a molten wasteland.

Frankie's eyes widen at the realization that their fear is completely warranted, especially considering the sheer devastation this woman could do to the entire city.

“We will not leave. I have orders to enter and retrieve a certain individual,” he moves his hand to his side, opening an enchanted pouch, taking out a long slender staff. “And I will get into that guild one way or another.”

At those words, the [Paladins] unsheathe their swords. The intense heat lessens off their bodies as the [Inquisitors] aura attempts to protect them, but still not completely gone .

“Shit,” Franky calls out, quickly taking off his robe, a heavy thing considering the protective metal within. He turns it inside out to reveal the crest of Odin’s [Inquisitor], an eight-pointed star with an eye in the middle.

Pulling the robe back on, Franky runs towards the door, taking a deep breath before opening it, hoping his acting classes will come useful.

_____

Joseph sends his mana through his body, preparing to cast his spell and skill. His staff glowing softly in response, awaiting his call for it to activate the powerful dormant ability within.

The sound of his [Paladins] unsheathing their swords brings him some confidence, hoping that they would be able to stop Calidi with their defensive skills before he can attempt to bring her down. Overall, Joseph has little confidence in himself and his men's ability to defeat her, but he has been tasked to retrieve the [Hero], and he is willing to sacrifice himself to try to do so.

And then the doors open and a young man walks out with the mark of an Odin’s [Inquisitor] on his chest.

The young man walks forward, an angry scowl across his face as he makes his way toward them, sweat clearly present, but seemingly ignored.

“[Inquisitor] Joseph!” he yells, walking forward with his head held high alongside a posture reminiscent of [Kings] can be seen as he continues to walk towards the Churchmen.

“What is the meaning of this! I left for three hours to get some much-needed training and the first thing I find when I finish is a horde of [Paladin]s looking for me?”

The young man passes Calidi, who gives him an appraising  look but does not interrupt.

The young man shakes his head, “I have told the [Archpriest] where I will be and what I will be doing,” the young man stops before Joseph, waving at the [Paladin]s behind him, “and you seem to find it fitting to bring a significant force to the divers guild when it could have easily been done with one or two people?”

The young man shakes his head.

The [Inquisitor] gives the young man a confused look. He opens his mouth.

“I was un—”

“SILENCE!” the young man yells out, interrupting the [Inquisitor] mid-sentence.“I do not want to hear your excuses. When we return to the palace, we will talk about your punishment.”

Joseph’s eyes open, widening at the sheer disrespect he is receiving, mimicking authority the child does not possess. But before he can answer, the young man turns around, his eyes focusing on the woman, an amused smile on her face.

“Now, then.”

The man steps forward, hand moving to his chest, “Acting Guild Mistress Calidi Flammenwerfer, I, Franky Sasco, would like to apologize on behalf of the church for the disrespectful way they had attempted to attain me.” He bows for a couple of seconds before straightening his back.

His eyes move downward, stopping only to admire her rather large chest and sexy curves before they move toward the cracked ground.

“Of course, I will make sure that you are properly compensated for the damage that has been done to the property.”

Calidi Flammenwerfer snorts, gives Franky a long look, and turns around, “No need,” she says, walking towards the Divers Guild, her hand waving in the air, causing the ground to shake and the damaged stone floor to quickly fix itself.

After she leaves, Franky turns around, moving towards the [Paladin]s.

Joseph, angry, opens his mouth to tell the [Hero] he cannot be ordered around, that such disrespect would not be forgiven. That his treatment was unjust. That the [Hero] has no such power.

But he stops short as he sees Franky’s face. The young man is covered in sweat and an exhausted, fearful look permeates his face as his body starts to slouch, the confidence he had moments ago replaced by something akin to fear.

________________

‘That was horrible. Just making eye contact with her had been exhausting. It took everything I had to stay calm, to show a sense of understanding and apology.’

I shake my head, wiping the sweat from my face on my robe.

‘Funny, Quasi was the one who had convinced me to take acting classes. Who knew they would come in handy ... shit. Did he know?’

I frown, taking a quick peek around me.

Over twenty [Paladin]s surround me, most of their faces covered by helmets, but the few without are showing signs of gratitude as I walk alongside the [Inquisitor], who stays silent, not saying a word as we make our way towards the palace.

‘The whole situation had disgusted me, that the fact two powerful forces were to attempt to fight each other, in the middle of a city with innocents. It was truly mind-boggling.’

‘But then maybe that was the point, to make that threat, to force the women to back down … still, it was clearly failing. She hadn't seemed phased at all.’

Finally, as we enter the [Nobles] quarters, I turn to Inquisitor Joseph, “Were you really looking to fight with her? Were you truly going to attack her?”

Joseph, curious, turns towards the [Hero], giving an answer without hesitation.

“If it is to make sure you return unharmed, then I would attempt to defeat her.”

I stop, the [Paladins] stopping as well, turning towards me, with curious looks.

“So what you are saying,” I start moving my hands, waving them around me, “is that you would be willing to send all of these men to fight an individual that could turn this city into a wasteland, wasting their lives and killing an enormous number of innocents in the process, to save me?”

I shake my head, pointing at the [Paladins]. “Each of these men came at your call, accepting your guidance and leadership, believing that you would make sure they will return to their families, their loved ones. They follow you, trusting you to make the best decisions …” I stop to look at their grim faces as they listen to my every word, “and instead of making a proper plan, of obtaining information, of doing this whole ordeal respectfully ...”

I raise my voice, hands tightening to a fist, my anger coming out, “You instead attempt to bully your way into the guild, willing to take any number of losses of good men and women just so you can come out the victor. That's pathetic.” I say, his face turning red, his posture turning aggressive.

But I ignore it, my words coming naturally, my back straightening, a feeling of confidence mixing with my anger. “You are a pathetic piece of egotistical shit,” I look at him, his eyes widening at my direct insult, “a man who is willing to sacrifice anything is a man who knows nothing of the world. You are pathetic!”

His eyes widen, teeth clenching as he looks at me with a murderous glare.

”YOU WILL BE SILENT.”

A feeling of pressure, the order battling my mind, attempting to subjugate my will, but I stand firm, my anger still everpresent, barely allowing me to notice the screen that pops up at the side of my vision.

The Skill [Inquisitors Order] has been resisted.

I ignore it, taking a step forward, my height similar to his own, my body seemingly moving on its own, mind focused upon the here and now.

“Make Me,” the wind starts to twirl, to form, reacting to my will.

The [Inquisitor’s] hands start to glow, mana forming around them as his anger starts to boil over. He lifts his hand … but that is all he gets to do.

“[Earthen Chains], [Earthen Chains].”

Behind them, two female [Archmages], who had been following the group discretely, activated their spells, causing chains of stone to rip out from the ground, quickly slithering towards the Inquisitor, and wrapping around his body and limbs, forcing him to the ground.

A thud is heard as the [Inquisitor] strikes the ground, a surprised expression on his face as a stone chain quickly covers his mouth, not allowing him to neither move nor activate skills or spells.

Panic quickly starts to settle on the man's psyche as he realizes that he literally cannot move, that he was completely hindered and at the mercy of the [Hero].

The [Paladin]s stand weary, unsure what to do. They had been told that the [Hero]’s safety is the utmost priority, that any threats should be quickly killed. It was their lack of being a magic class that did not allow them to react to the formation of mana on the [Inquisitor]’s hands, though fortunately the two [Archmage]s had immediately sensed the magic and reacted to it.

Several thoughts travel through my mind, some of them telling me to end his life. Another telling me that this situation is wrong, that I should apologize for my outburst.

But then the feeling of confidence, of power, tells me something else. Guiding me ...

I look at the two [Archmages] The women stand with their arms held out, hands glowing as they supply mana to the spell, making sure that physical strength alone will not allow the [inquisitor] to break free.

“Let him go, remove those chains,” I say to the two [Archmages]. At the same time, the [Inquisitor] stops struggling as he hears the order.

“He attempted to attack you,” one calls out.

“He could have killed you,” the other explains as well.

‘I feel so calm …’

“It will be fine. I will deal with it.” I say.

The two Archmages share another look and then slowly the earthen chains start to unravel, traveling back into the stone ground from which they came.

I look down. The [Inquisitor] stares back at me, a very confused expression on his face, completely devoid of the anger he had been harboring before.

_____

The [Hero] stands tall, his form seemingly glowing as all eyes are on him. A sense of respect and power emanates from him as his eyes bore into the [Inquisitor], into the man's soul.

The [Hero] opens his mouth and speaks.

“In life, we all make mistakes, some we notice afterward, others we notice during … and then there are some we do not notice.”

The [Hero] pauses, his face lacking any emotion.

“It is the last one that is the worst. It is the most dangerous, as it leads you to repeat the same mistake over and over again. The cycle repeating itself indefinitely.”

He pauses. The air around the [Hero] starts to converge around him, making his clothes shuffle to the wind's tune.

“But if you're lucky, then you may be blessed with someone who will notice your mistakes for you, someone who will point them out.”

A smile slowly forms on the [Hero] face, the air starting to slow, turning into a light breeze.

“Joseph Selenos, your mistake was that you did not notice how arrogant you have become. How much your focus had been on the strength of the church and not by its teachings.”

The [Hero] pauses, his blond hair moving softly, glowing in the sunlight.

“But that's the thing about mistakes, they can always be fixed.”

The [Hero] extends his arm downward, toward the [Inquisitor] who is on his knees, looking up.

“If you want … nay … believe you can change ...”

The hero pauses once more.

“To become better ... take my hand for I have already forgiven you.”

The [Inquisitor] looks up and catches a glimpse. Not of a man named Franky with the [Hero] class, but a hero named Franky.

Tears start to form down Joseph’s eyes as he extends his hand taking the [Hero]s arm, getting pulled up.

“Thank you,” Joseph voices softly, a feeling of euphoria washing over him. Respect, yearning, so much feeling that he barely holds it. But he holds it, relishing the feeling, memorizing it, all with  his eyes fervently trained on the [Hero].

Nodding, the [Hero] taps him on the shoulder, “Now, Joseph, let us go back to the palace. I am sure many are worried about my wellbeing.”

The [Paladins], [Archmages], and the [Inquisitor] watch as the [Hero] walks forward, his form strong and majestic as he exits the circle of [Paladin]s, moving towards the palace.

Only after a moment do they finally awaken from their stupor and follow the [Hero], their eyes glistening with utter reverence.

_______

Tired would be an understatement, Franky thinks to himself as he trudges forward, doing his utmost best to keep from slouching, the whole ordeal had been mesmerizing to say the least.

He had had an epiphany, a moment where he knew exactly what to say, what to do, how to act. It was both invigorating and extremely exhausting.

Currently, he wants to just fall down and pass out, but the fact that a small group of extremely powerful people is following him, as well as the confused looks of several [Nobles] as they watch him pass by, keeps him from disgracing himself.

Luckily, the ecstatic feeling of the several levels and skills he had obtained kept him from falling asleep. He calls them up mentally.

Level Up x 17

You are now a level 26 [Hero]

New Skill Obtained: A Hero’s Moment.

Some people move the hearts and minds of people through the use of power, others through bribery, and some through wits.

But you move the hearts and minds of the people from your sheer presence.

+        2000 Charisma when activated.

Hidden Stat unlocked → Charisma: 431

New Passive Aura Skill Obtained: Heart of a Hero

The strength of your aura changes, allowing your personality, your being, to increase its strength.

---Willpower Increased by Charisma Score.

***********************

[Archpriest] Bernard looks up, his eyes staring at the [Grand Counselor] who continues to look out the window at the city below.

“And he immediately passed out in bed when he returned,” the [Grand Chancellor] says, not even turning around.

“Yes, on his return, the [Priestess] who was designated to taking care of him found him passed out on the floor,” Bernard explains, staring intently at the Grand Counselor’s back.

The counselor does not move, his eyes still focused forward.

“I see.”

The counselor moves, just an inch, his head tilting  down toward the courtyard below.

“It is good that the fight with Calidi was avoided, I would not want to reveal any of the [Ascended] so early. The time would not have been right.”

Bernard stays silent, one leg on the floor as he kneels, listening to the [Grand Counselor]’s thoughts. Indeed, [Ascended] is a class obtained by the most powerful and loyal of a god's servants. Such people gain abilities and strengths that can even rival that of Named individuals, but the cost for creating and training them is significant.

Which is why churches will keep such people hidden, not wanting anyone to disclose how many such beings a church may have at their disposal.

“You were right, Bernard. That [Hero] is dangerous.”

Bernard looks up, slightly confused.

“Sir?”

The Chancellor turns, making eye contact with Bernard, a surprising look of annoyance on the man’s face.

“His potential is exceptional, possibly more than the other three [Heroes]. Something I was not able to see before. At this point, I am having thoughts of removing him.”

Bernard did not miss the hidden information. As the [Grand Chancellor] of Odin, he is gifted with several abilities allowing him to discern people, their personalities, and even their future potential.

The fact the chancellor had made a mistake is something akin to impossible, unless a god interferes of course.

But no god other than Odin himself can see into the city of Aesir.

“Do you wish for me to end him?” Bernard asks.

The [Grand Chancellor] looks at the [Archpriest], seeing his loyalty and dedication.

“We cannot … Odin has been incapable of figuring out how many [Hero]’s have been summoned by Zeus. It seems they are keeping the details secret from his eyes, making it difficult to discern if we have more or less. If I knew they have less than four, then I would agree that removing him would be the best option.”

Bernard stays silent, understanding the significance of these words.

‘A fully leveled and trained [Hero] is equivalent to several [Ascended], and if the Olympian gods have even a few more, it could spell trouble for the Aesir gods.’

“Until I am able to find out more, I will need Franky to be watched closely. The two skills he has gained recently make him very dangerous …” he stops, frowning, “And make sure to send [Inquisitor] Joseph on a mission, any mission. I do not want him to have any more contact with the [Hero].”

The [Grand Chancellor] turns around, looking through the window again, activating skills that allow him to see several hundred miles in the distance.

“You may leave, Bernard.”

Bernard finally stands, straightening out his robe as he turns towards the door, opening and closing it behind him.

The whole situation put a weird taste in his mouth. Not because of the [Heroes], which is a completely different situation, but the lack of information from the [Grand Chancellor]. Something is clearly going on, something that is forcing the chancellor to use his skills in the far distance instead of on the city. It would have been child's play for the chancellor to find the [Hero], bypass the [Witch]’s wards and figure out that the [Hero] was unharmed.

Instead, the [Seers] informed [Inquisitor] Joseph that they had lost connection to the [Hero] in the divers guild.

Which resulted in a small but powerful group being dispatched to attempt to retrieve him.

And such a thing would have worked if the [Guild Mistress] was available, as she would have allowed the church inside out of fear of retaliation.

Unfortunately, the fact that a Named being had been hired to run the guild in her place was completely unexpected.

Even worse was the specific Named individual that was hired. Calidi Flammenwerfer is a battlemage who prides herself in striking fast and excessively hard. Her class of [Lancer Archmage] is an upper-rank second tier combination of the [Grand Lancer] and the [Battle Archmage] classes. Though not at the level of a Tier three class, its great strength alone allows her to meld magic and skill effectively.

But what makes her a Named person is her other class, [Magmamancer], another upper-rank second tier class combination of [Geomancer] and [Pyromancer]. The class allows her to manipulate the environment, turning swaths of land into a burning molten mess, all fully under her control. Combine that with the impressive mobility of her other class and powerful enchanted items, and you have an individual who is extremely effective at taking down any target.

Bernard shakes his head, dispelling the thoughts, instead focusing on his own job; to make sure that the [Heroes] are trained and leveled properly.

But he frowns, thinking now about Franky and how significantly faster he had gained levels than the other [Heroes] … an annoyance he finds displeasing considering the other [Archpriest]s, which are responsible for the other heroes, keep asking him what he is doing to increase Franky’s level so fast.

“How am I supposed to tell them I am doing absolutely nothing.” Bernard whispers, passing a hallway and finding himself quickly leaning over the edge, watching another [Hero] as she duels with a [Paladin], who easily counters her every attempt to strike with a sword.

The girl, apparently twenty-two years of age, comes from a tribal world completely lacking in magic. She had been out hunting for her people, looking for prey to kill, when she found herself being summoned.

“[Analyse]” Bernard calls out, activating a skill that sends information about the [Hero] directly into his head.

Annette Stalker

Level 7 [Hero]

Level 3 [Mage]

Level 15 [Warrior]

Bernard frowns, remembering what the [Heroes] had told them. That they have constant access to the system and that information is obtained by invisible floating boxes instead of directly to their head.

Unfortunately, obtaining new classes still requires them to see a city stone.

Sighing, Bernard turns away after watching the [Hero] get beaten to the ground again by the [Paladin].

“I guess I should get something to eat,” he whispers to himself, trying to distract his tired mind from the situation he finds himself in.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

When a group of people, monsters, animals, floating eyeballs, what have you, need to go somewhere, there is always a choice of transportation. Whether it be riding, flying, or outright breaking reality to get to a place faster.

For example, I am currently sitting atop a floating monstrous undead bat thing, relaxing upon some nice leather padding I had placed atop its back.

Moving a little bit, I look to my sides, finding several more of my minions flying alongside me, keeping within formation with my own mount at the center. It's amazing how overpowered undead in a dungeon really are. No sunlight to slowly make them decay nor any signs of stamina exhaustion. They are the perfect mounts.

But even so, with flight and unlimited stamina, barely any distance is actually being moved.

I lean over, looking down towards the ground.

Leading our procession is the most powerful of the gejan kind, Zorren the [Berserker]. When I had mentioned that we could fly to our destination significantly faster, the man had taken one look at my undead and stated that he will walk.

Next to him is my trusted Mule, walking mindlessly forward while Jessica holds tightly to the side of the undead.

Jessica, upon finding out that Zorren refused to fly, took the opportunity to walk alongside him, stating clearly that she would rather walk instead of flying.

Granted, I can't necessarily blame her, considering she never flew before. The lack of night vision can make your first flight a harrowing experience as you can't even see the floor unless it is alight with those weird glowing fungi.

Which, by the way, are not edible. Not even my strengthened stats make me immune to such things as diarrhea.

Tasting one was a harrowing experience that had me struggling for several hours over a hole in the ground. By the end, my ass was burning and my shit was glowing … it was a very weird experience.

Regardless, the past week was actually quite fun as I had built and started training my small army of gejan [Soldiers]. Yes, I made them get that class, though I did try to see if they could get another tier one classes, like [Lieutenant]. Unfortunately, it seems the regular population of this world needs a starting class to rank up.

With my guidance, almost all are over level ten in the [Soldier] class, though Jessica said that you require level twenty for the class [Lieutenant] or level fifty for the [Captain] class to become available upgrade options, a rather annoying hurdle but quite understandable since such upgraded classes tend to have stronger with skills increasing the capability of the soldiers under them.

And that is a whole other complicated subject as they aren't going to rank up naturally. I would have to choose leaders and guide them to such a class. Because apparently, it is fully normal for a [Soldier] to reach extremely high levels without ranking up to anything … or that is at least what Jessica had told me … because she knows the military extensively…

‘I just realized I never asked how she knows so much …’

Sighing, I shake my head and call up my system information.

Quasi Eludo

Level 42 [Necromancer]

Level 30 [Hero]

Level 32 [Noble]

Level 29 [Enchanter]

Raise Undead

Advanced Analyse

Skeletal Renewal

Enhanced Undead

Bone levitation

Advanced Mana Sense

Enchant

Enhanced Structural Enchantments

Undead Eyes

Undead Enrage

Lightless Undead

Minor Undead Modification

Create Skeletal Guardian

Split Concentration

Converging Mana

Enhanced Trainer

Strength

23

Dexterity

36

Stamina

32

Perception

245

Endurance

14

Vitality

227

Mana

938

M/regen

3.83

Affinity

13

Intelligence

489

Willpower

3047

Soul

4143

Lots of skills. Mostly from my [Necromancer] class, which I found out is because tier two classes give more skills and stats per level than tier one. However, they are also much harder to level due to them starting out at a level exceeding a hundred.

Except my [Necromancer] class started from level one … which means this list is going to get unbearably longer … but the bonus mana is quite nice, though it would be nicer to get a higher mana regen rate … or a class that increases my physical attributes.

Whatever, not like I can do anything about it now.

I do find it annoying that my second-highest level class is [Noble]. Apparently, I just have to order people around and bam, experience. So ordering my undead as well as training the [Soldiers] counts.

Which is also why, when I passed level 30, I gained the skill [Enhanced Trainer], which increases the leveling speed of those I train ... by what amount I have no idea as I have no point of reference. Even the skill description is extremely vague.

[Enhanced Trainer]: Those under you who follow your methods of training will have increased learning and leveling speed.

As you can see, it is kind of vague. No numbers or an—

I stop, my eyes widening in realization.

‘What if I designate hunting and killing monsters a part of my training orders? Will that count as well? Would they be able to level faster from hunting thanks to my skill? I’ll need to test that.’

But that's for another time. My army is safely practicing formation back at the city while I head toward the dungeon boss that protects the area required to move to the next level of the dungeon.

I lean over my mount.

“OYYYYY, Zorren, how much longer? It's been several hours. I’m getting booorrrrreeeeeddddd.”

The gejan, strong, big, built like a freaking armored truck, looks up at me, glaring at me.

“Soon,” he says, turning away from me, continuing to walk forward at his slow pace.

Ahhhh, Zorren, what a weird guy. Though he has anger issues, which Anathema states is because of his class, he is actually pretty nice. He thanked Jessica for healing the injured gejan and making sure the guy did not end up a cripple. And then, when I asked him to help me kill the dungeon boss without the army, he was all too happy to comply. Apparently, he had lost many good friends a long time ago when a group of over a hundred gejan tried–and failed–to kill the boss. Thus, he doesn’t want any meaningless death of his people. Or at least that’s what Anathema explained to me.

Granted, he also said he will kill it alone, but I wasn't going to let the [Berserker] fight such a powerful and deadly monster on his own.

That would be utterly unethical.

Such a thing a [Hero] would never allow.

And it has absolutely nothing to do with the fact that such a large and powerful monster would be a great minion …

***************

Catching herself from tripping, Jessica tightens her grip on Mule. She notices a number of bones jutting out of the ground.

Grunting, she keeps her eyes looking down, stepping around the bones as best she can, but the number seems to be quickly increasing.

She frowns and watches Mule, who just walks forward with ease, his weight and size are crushing the bones in front of him with ease.

Jessica immediately moves behind the undead, following it while staring at its illuminating coverings.

Quasi had taken several of the glowing fungi, the same ones that had given him severe diarrhea, and covered Mule in them from head to toe, turning him into her own personal light source.

Which was great for her, except that it attracted predators, which thankfully were not a problem for Quasi to take care of.

But there hasn't been any attack for the past hour, only the increasing number of bones dotting the stone floor.

“We are getting close, you should stand back,” Zorren says, turning toward the [Priestess].

Nodding, Jessica stops, ordering Mule to stay by her side and protect her.

The undead halts, its glowing purple eyes staring forward, unmoving like a statue.

Zorren continues on as Jessica huddles close to Mule, her eyes looking up as she watches twenty purple glowing dots in the sky continue to head onward.

Normally, Jessica would have felt fear, been scared of being left alone. But instead, she feels calm, her eyes now looking towards Mule's purple glowing skull and the spider upon its shoulder.

************

So the boss of the dungeon is … well, quite huge. Its size is as big as a three-story house while it appears to weigh over fifty tons. It literally looks like a massively overgrown lizard … with sharp claws, huge teeth, and a massive hammer on its head. Oh, and it is staring at Zorren with all eight of its eyes.

Yup, it noticed us, probably a while ago, and considering the several fresh corpses of monsters around it, it is not currently hungry.

Unfortunately, its nest is located directly next to the opening that leads down to the second level of the dungeon, a rather problematic location.

The monster, noticing that Zorren is still heading in its direction, finally gets up, crushing the bones around it under its large feet. Its mouth opens and razor-sharp teeth are revealed as it tastes the air with its long tongue.

‘[Advanced Analyze]’

Lacerta, Guardian of the first floor Level 117

Lacerta is the guardian and first line of defense against those who wish to travel through the dungeon. This monster was created to be capable of fighting and killing anything upon the first floor with ease. Its scales, powerful and hardened, make it nigh impenetrable by even the sharpest of weapons. Combined with its excessive stamina, great eyesight, and unyielding senses, this beast thrives upon the first floor of the dungeon, feeding upon the desbats who are disabled by its [Light Attack].

‘[Light Attack]? That's it? No more description? Just that it disables desbats?’

My thoughts are momentarily stopped as I look down, watching as Zorren lifts his massive hammer, holding it easily with one hand.

‘Right … so you're just gonna smack it? Is that really your plan? Not th—’

I stop as Zorren starts to glow, steam rising from his body as he continues to walk forward. Lacerta finally looks at the small gejan as a threat. Zorren’s size quickly increases, muscles spasming out as he gains two inches in height and bulging muscles, making him appear buff, even through his scales.

And then Zorren’s bad arm starts to move, the one which had been always hanging at his side. It wraps around the hammer, enforcing its grip.

‘What just happened … [Advanced Analyze].’

Zorren

Level 173 [Berserker]

Zorren, a veteran warrior of the gejan, he has lost his tail, lost the people he was required to protect, and now lives in shame, his presence tolerated because of his sheer level.

Strength

93(223)

Dexterity

28(96)

Stamina

147(735)

Perception

73

Endurance

54(162)

Vitality

120

Mana

110

M/regen

0.5

Affinity

0

Intelligence

73(7.3)

Willpower

321

Soul

260

Tail Loss: The tail of a gejan is a note of pride for the people, but more so than pride, it helps in balance. -20 Dexterity

Unusable Arm: Having lost an arm, strength has been reduced. -20% Strength

Berserkers Rage: Ignore all physical and mental debilitating effects. Temporarily increases Strength and Dexterity by 200%. Temporarily increases Endurance by 300%. Temporarily decrease Intelligence by 90%. Temporarily increase Stamina by 500%.

Ok, ok, ok. So granted, I did figure he had abilities that made him stronger, abilities that would allow him to fight better. Something he was keeping hidden from me. And I really truly believed I could handle him in a fight regardless of what it was.

But [Berserkers Rage] ... that's such an overpowered skill. I mean, come on, the only drawback is Intelligence? Really? Why would you need Intelligence if your stats alone lets you faceroll any opponent?

Ok, ok, ok, jealousy, I do feel jealousy. A lot of it. I guess it’s humbling to find out that I have an extremely long way to go before I actually become truly strong.

I sigh and shake my head, looking back down as Zorren bends his knees. The stone suddenly shatters under his feet as he jumps forward, rocketing toward the overgrown lizard at a speed I can quite easily follow but at no point would I be able to replicate.

The lizard, to its credit, reacts even faster, its tail flicking out, extending, and then slapping the enraged [Berserker] right out of the air.

The [Berserker's] body is flung away from the boss, slamming into a pile of bones, causing them to break and shatter from the impact.

My mouth hangs open, outright surprised at what just happened, only to widen even further as the bone dust disperses, revealing Zorren in all his lizard glory.

The [Berserker] stands back up, bone dust falling off his scales as his face becomes even angrier, the hammer still grasped firmly in his hand.

And then, with a roar, he jumps forward again, causing the lizard to flick its tail out andsmack Zorren again.

This happens several more times, the boss monster seemingly amused while Zorren is just constantly trying to ram into the thing … which isn't working.

‘I see ... so that lack of intelligence is pretty detrimental. He seems to be incapable of adapting. Or I guess not smart enough to.’

‘Welp, I guess I’ll try to help him out.’

Before I do anything though, I activate [Converging Mana], lowering the cost of all my spells by a decent amount while I pull out my staff.

Once I’m ready, I mentally call up my mana reserves, sending it quickly down to my mount and have it enter several dozen enchanted bone shivs at once, creating a connection.

So here's the thing about my [Bone Levitation] skill. The mana consumption to create the connection is significantly more than keeping the connection up. That initial mana consumption is also dependent on distance. So if I am within a meter of the bones, the consumption is much less, even more so if I am touching them.

Funny enough, the consumption decreases even further if the bones have been enchanted by me.

It's weird, I know. I still don't exactly know why, but it’s convenient.

Ordering my enchanted shivs outside, quickly dispersing at my call. I keep a mental connection to all of them with ease, something made quite a bit easier ever since I acquired the [Split Concentration] skill.

What I am doing would be practically impossible for a mere mortal as each shiv requires a continuous connection to function properly, making controlling more bones harder and harder.

And I shouldn't be able to either. I'm human and humans cannot cannot partition their minds into several dozen different connections.

Instead, I cheat.

Mana is just a form of energy that is changed and given meaning. It is usually formed based on your subconscious thoughts. But what if that connection between spell and power source was more automatic? What if ongoing orders are automated with barely any conscious thought?

Well, I give you programming, the ability to create set orders. If this were a skill, it would be called [Mana Programming] or something. Unfortunately, it seems that it's not. Which is fine.

Anyhow, since I have a photographic memory, mentally calling up a coded program and inserting my mana into it is fast and instant. This allows me to do such a thing as ordering all of my currently floating shivs to spin, increasing the centrifugal force and hopefully allowing me to penetrate those scales, all with a simple, single, mental action.

Once they are spinning fast enough, when air resistance starts to restrict the speed, I mentally order my floating shivs to accelerate, quickly ramping up speed towards the boss.

Surprisingly, the boss notices my swarm and turns its body, protecting its head while my shivs strike its dark scales … causing scratches but not penetrating.

“Fuck …” I say aloud, watching as several of my bones fall broken to the floor, the impact breaking them even though they were strengthened by [Enhanced Structural Enchantments].

At that same moment, Zorren screams, jumping forward and getting knocked back again.

“Yea, Zorren, you keep doing that. It’s completely working.”

Zorren ignores me, his anger focused on the monster that has been smacking him around like a tennis ball … a very sturdy tennis ball.

Sighing, I order my swarm of undead forward, mentally guiding them towards the boss’s exposed regions.

The boss, again, notices my move immediately, half of its eight eyes looking toward the swarm.

The hammer atop its head raises, revealing a neat white crystal underneath, and then just as quickly, the hammer strikes down at an incredible speed.

And I finally learn what it meant by a ‘[Light Attack]’.

A literal flashbang goes off from the impact, Illuminating the entire battlefield, causing me to scream and cover my face as all of the photoreceptors in my eyes are activated, blinding me and causing severe pain...

Very annoying, especially since everything is white except for a floating blue box that is still somehow visible.

You are under the status effect ‘blind’. You cannot see for the next 273 seconds.

Annoying, yes, but I have a workaround.

‘[Undead Eyes].’

At the activation of my skill, I take over the eyes of my mount, seeing through them instead, allowing me to see the battlefield.

At this point, my undead have swarmed the boss, monster panicing as it attempts to cover its eyes, one of them already having been poked out.

I smile, enjoying the fact that undead don't need eyes to function at all. Just the magic running through them is enough. And since they are also undead, pain is something they do not feel.

So yes, apparently the boss is not used to its ability being ignored.

But still, it seems that the size and scale of the beast are more than enough to stop my minions from doing any truly permanent damage.

Luckily, the undead provided the perfect distraction.

A sound reverberates through the clearing as Zorren’s strengthened legs rip open the ground with a jump, Sending him several hundred meters and  allowing him to slam his hammer into the distracted boss’s side.

Like shattering glass, the scales on the boss break under the sheer force of the blow, sending the monster careening quite a distance away. But even with such a powerful strike, the monster is still standing, quickly getting back on its feet, blood and ichor dripping from its left side where many of its cracked and broken scales had impaled the beast.

Again it activates its [Light Attack] ability, sending another wave of extreme light from its head, only to be ignored as I order my remaining minions to swarm once more. With quick reflexes, the boss’s armored tail flicks out, striking one of my undead, the sheer force breaking its body.

But that's the thing about swarm tactics, you can only handle so many threats at once. The minions quickly latch on to the boss, aiming for its eyes while I order one of the undead minions to move to the now-exposed left side.

As my minion gets into position, I activate another ability.

‘[Undead Enrage]’

My undead’s entire body starts to glow with purple light as its body strengthens significantly.

With another mental command, my enraged desbat strikes its long claws into the exposed flesh, ripping deep into the boss’s body.

The boss screams, shaking as signals of pain are sent to its brain.

The beast starts to thrash as I do my best to keep my desbats from falling off.

But soon my help is not needed, as Zorren dives from the air, his hammer striking downward, connecting with the bosses skull, forcing it on the ground with a rather loud impact.

Surprisingly, the skull does not break, but the boss’s body stops moving, the impact rattling its brain, forcing it to shut down.

Taking the opportunity, I order my enraged desbat to move to the monster’s head, instructing it to shove its long claw deep through the eye and into the boss’s brain.

A system message appears on the  display in front of me.

Congratulations! You have defeated Lacerta.

For being the first [Hero] to kill this boss, experience gain has increased.

For single-handedly killing the boss, experience gain has increased.

Several more messages of level-ups and such show up in front of me, but I suppress them for later as I turn to look at the [Berserker], who is systematically raising his hammer and slamming back down on the boss’s skull, yelling the entire time.

I fly closer while ordering my surviving minions to take flight, the enraged minion already exploded once the effect ended.

“ZORREN. IT IS DEAD!” I yell, activating my [Loud Voice] skill to make my words heard.

The [Berserker] stops, his hammer resting on the monster's skull, the skin having been slammed away to reveal black bones with several cracks spreading through it.

Zorren looks up, his eyes boring into mine, unmoving, watching me as I sit on my mount waving my arms with a smile on my face.

As he stares, the steam emanating from his body starts to slow, decreasing in intensity as his own muscles stop bulging and blood-red eyes return to normal.

As his skill fades, he blinks … and then plops down on the ground, unconscious.

I stop, looking at the body lying face-first on the floor.

I shake my head, snorting at the [Berserkers] idiocy. The cocky guy wanted to fight a boss on his own, knowing he will pass out after ...Allowing any roaming monster to finish him off.

Every time I go to any world, I always somehow meet these people. Cocky idiots who think they're the best and that nothing can truly stand in their way, who are more than willing to risk the lives of others for their own beliefs.

And such people piss me off, so much so that I debate ending his life then and there. I have no qualms about killing, even people who are innocent. If I have to end the life of one innocent to save many more, I sure will. I have lost too many friends to continue with that perfect hero mindset.

Unfortunately, I need him to guide me through the dungeon safely … so letting him live is an unfortunate must.

Flying down to the boss’s body, I wait as my mana reserve maxes out.

A giddy feeling takes me as I extend my staff, my mana beckoning to my call as I activate my favorite skills.

“[Raise Undead].”

CHAPTER NINETEEN

Mana starts to form within my body and, like a river, flows down my arm, entering my staff. From there, it pulses as it transforms into absurdly complicated matrices of energy, creating a strong purple glow on my staff. Once fully formed, the mana releases, a purple fog spreads out, surrounding and entering the boss’s dead body.

With a strained smile, I keep myself upright as the sheer quantity of my mana needed to fuel the spell’s activation is consumed. I slowly watch as matrices upon matrices of magic get compounded upon the dead body, strings of energy wrapping around and around the boss.

Only a moment passes before the magic solidifies and the monster’s remaining eyes start to glow a powerful deadly purple as a connection forms between us.

With a mental command, I order the monster to stand.

Without a moment to lose, the beast lifts its heavy girth, standing upon its four legs, eyes boring into mine with non-existent intelligence.

I activate [Advanced Analyze].

Lacerta. Level 117 Undead.

Lacerta, a former guardian of the first floor of Dungeon INAEQUO, has been defeated and turned into an undead by entity Quasi Eludo. This former boss is capable of utilizing its whip-like tail to assault targets at a distance and at extreme speeds. Its scales, though large, are resistant to piercing damage due to the underlying bone fibers. Atop its head, the boss is capable of using a hammer and a crystal-like dome to create an enormous bright light, blinding any foes or allies within the vicinity. -1 mana regen

I frown. Reading through the description, noticing that I gained a lot more useful information from my undead than I did when it was living.

‘Is that because I know what it’s capable of or because I turned it into my minion?’

‘Welp, I’ll have many opportunities to figure that out.’

Noticing that my mana has stabilized and that I am no longer at risk of passing out, I move toward the side of the beast, retrieving one of its broken scale shards. The shard, though somewhat light, seems to be both extremely sturdy and very sharp on the side. Apparently, the bone fibers prevalent are far more powerful than the regular bones.

With but the smallest trickle of mana, I activate [Bone Levitation], a smile forming on my lips as the scale starts to float in the air.

‘Good, hopefully, I can get a decent number of these shards … but this does give me an idea.’

Sitting down, I mentally call Mule to slowly walk towards my location, figuring that Jessica will follow Mule in turn, while I contemplate the battle I just had and await my mana to regenerate for my next experiment.

‘The battle itself was actually quite difficult. I probably would not have been able to even scratch Lacerta without a lot more preparation. Though its blind ability had been useless, the tail and powerful scales would be trickier to bypass. I may have been able to win using a skeletal guardian enhanced with enrage while I had my aerial units keep it distracted. Of course, I still don't know if the guardian would be able to crack open those scales, especially considering how slow it is.’

‘Makes me wonder how the group before me was able to even take the monster out. I guess I will have to ask Zorren when he wakes up.’

Sighing, I call upon the system, allowing the information I stopped before to flow into my view.

You have slain Lacerta.

Potential of Lacerta Absorbed.

Level Up x 5

You are now a level 47 [Necromancer]

New Skill Awarded: [Create Skeletal Warrior]

[Create Skeletal Warrior]

Utilizing the bones around you, create an undead warrior whose level matches the bones used. Mana regen cost is increased if undead is higher level than necromancer by 2% per level.

Level up x 3

You are now a level 35 [Noble]

Level Up x 6

You are now a level 36 [Hero]

Level Up x 1

You are now a level 30 [Enchanter]

New skill awarded: [Minor Mana Efficiency Enchanting]

[Minor Mana Efficiency Enchanting]

Enchantments created by you are 10% more mana efficient.

Killing the boss had increased the levels of all of my classes, surprisingly. Unfortunately, the levels I gained are all over the place. As to be expected, considering classes have different requirements to level. The [Hero] class, on the other hand, is actually quite confusing as I still don't understand why I am gaining levels on it. I wish it was as simple as my other classes.

[Necromancer] increased because I was using my minions. [Noble] increased because I was guiding my minions. And [Enchanter] increased … well, I have no idea why.

Even with those levels … the skills I gained are rather … lackluster. The [Create Skeletal Warrior] skill might actually be utterly useless considering that I am an extremely low level for a [Necromancer], meaning it would be extremely costly to use … maybe, gotta see what the normal cost for it is.

As for the [Enchanter] skill [Minor Mana Efficiency], well, it isn't bad per se, but it’s not amazing either. Useful, but not good, especially considering I only know one enchant.

I notice the sound of crunching bones as Mule comes to me, followed by Jessica, whose eyes are trained on my new undead. Surprisingly, she shows no fear or disgust towards it, more a curiosity.

‘I have to admit, she is very good at adapting. Only a couple of days with me and already she is relaxed around giant undead behemoth monsters that could destroy her with a swipe of its tail.’

She looks around and then turns to me, a frown forming on her face.

“Where is Zorren?” she asks.

I shrug my shoulders, pointing, “he is sleeping on the floor on the other side of my new undead.”

She lifts an eyebrow, wanting to ask a question, but then shakes her head, deciding to just walk around my new undead.

“He is bleeding. Should I heal him?” she calls out from the other side of the Lacerta.

“Go ahead, not that he will die anytime soon,” I say, standing back up again, my mana finally full.

A moment after, I hear Jessica say ‘[Heal]’, but I ignore her  as I call upon my mana.

I point my staff towards Lacerta, hoping that it will work.

‘[Skeletal Renewal]’

At the thought, my mana seeps out, entering shards and bones around me, turning them into dust and sending them flying towards Lacerta, healing the cracks on her forehead.

I smile as the scales start to heal, dust forming around the injured side, replacing it with fresh, white scales.

And then, not even a third of the way done, my magic stops. The surrounding bones around me are completely gone, there being no material to continue the healing process.

Confusing, considering it took a huge amount of bone to just create a couple of scales.

I move my hand, touching the new scales, finding it to be rather rough without the black skin covering. I give the new scale a gentle hit and feel that the scale is exceptionally strong.

Which can only mean that better quality bone requires far more bone to heal.

I smile, looking around me, finding miles of bones sticking out.

And that's when an idea forms in my head.

Without being gentle, I take out my knife and start hacking away at one of the newly created white scales sticking out of Lacerta.

Eventually,  I pry the scale off and place it on the ground. I then move towards another location filled with old bones, having Lacerta follow me as well. I frown as I see Jessica hunched over Zorren, still healing him.

But I only give that a moment’s thought as I am more focused on my experiment. Once Lacerta and I are at the new site, I once again activate my [Skeletal Renewal] skill, my mana pulsing as the bones around me disintegrate, flying towards my undead.

***********

Jessica stops healing, her breath slightly ragged. She stands up, taking a step back from Zorren. It had taken her a significant amount of time to heal him, as while the cuts around his body were superficial, the real damage was in his muscles, all of which had been strained and broken significantly. The [Berserker] had passed out not from exhaustion, but the sheer pain of having every muscle fiber broken in his body.

Jessica figures that such damage can only be done with either a skill or some kind of curse effect. She believes more in the former, as the only one who would have any form of a curse spell would be Quasi, but he wouldn't use it against an ally.

Regardless, she wipes the sweat from her face and turns toward Quasi, finding the [Hero] jumping up and down, yelling ‘Yes’ several times over and over.

With her healing job finished, she moves towards the beaming [Hero].

“Mule, follow,” she says, giving the fungi-covered undead an order, something she rather enjoys doing, especially as it reminds her of the time she lived in the monastery, ordering [Acolytes] to get things done for her.

But her mood takes a nosedive as she remembers the monastery and what had happened to her … how she was sold off …

Shaking her head, she instead focuses on Quasi, who is still yelling.

“Yes! Fucking. Yes. It Works. Haha,” he exclaims staring at the side of his new undead.

Walking up to him, a smile forms on Jessica's face as she suppresses a giggle.

“What happened?”

The [Hero] turns to her, his smile similar to a that of child after gaining his first skill. “I did it. I think I broke the system,” he says, pointing toward the white scales on the undead’s side.

“My skill, [Skeletal Renewal], allows me to heal the bones of any of my minions. However, I find that those bones healed are as strong as the monster’s natural bones, which are extremely powerful,” he says, placing his hand on the white scale.

“Thus, if I was to constantly rip off these scales and create new ones from the bones around me, I could create a literal treasure trove of both shields and weapons from boss bone!” He exclaims, spreading his arms apart for emphasis.

Jessica, understanding the implications, nods slowly, a smile forming on her lips, though for very different reasons.

‘He really is amazing. Not even two weeks of being summoned and he is already doing the impossible. Only a [Hero] would ever think about using a powerful monster’s body to create a nearly infinite supply of materials.’

He takes out his knife and starts to hack at the scale, “This will take a while, I suggest you just look around, I have a lot of work to do before we can start heading back.”

Nodding in understanding, Jessica looks around for something to do, quickly finding the entrance to the next level of the dungeon a bit away.

Normally, she would have trouble seeing anything far away, but glowing crystals were growing around the entrance, seemingly signifying its location.

Curious, she calls Mule over and heads towards the crystals. She soon finds herself at an entrance leading downward. A frown forms on her face as she notices something that Quasi will more than likely hate.

She takes a deep breath and turns around, heading towards the purple glowing eyes of his new undead to tell him the bad news.

**************

Hours later, I find myself seated atop my flying mount, wiping tears off my face the entire time.

‘Yes, I can be emotional, especially for very stupid reasons, but nobody is perfect.’

I shake my head, watching as Lacerta trudges along, the scales on the top of her back completely removed, including a lot of meat, which I had thrown away and made the inside of my undead relatively hollow. It was a  rather long and arduous process, but now that hollow contains scales, hundreds of white scales which I had created and loaded within.

Those scales will be used to create weapons, shields, and possibly armor if I can actually find someone who could make armor. Apparently, the gejan prefer not to use any armor, stating that their scales are ‘hard enough’. Which may be true against normal enemies, but anything that can get through those scales will easily find the tasty meat underneath.

Of coarse, Zorren is completely different … his endurance stat can get to some insane levels, making him an almost unstoppable monster against non-bladed weapon.

Speaking of Zorren, I turn to the side to watch Zorren, who is held firmly in the claws of one of my desbats.

‘Yup, even after … nine hours, he still has not awakened. Which is fine as this makes our trip much faster, especially since another of my desbats is holding Mule while Jessica rides atop Lacerta.’

An undead that will be completely useless for one huge reason.

I take a slow deep breath, trying my best to keep the sadness away.

Because apparently, the entrance to the second floor of the dungeon is half of Lacerta’s size.

Which seriously pisses me off! I was going to ride it into battle, killing monsters with a giant super undead.

But no, whoever designed this stupid dungeon did not want bosses traveling to any other floors.

“Stupid fucking shit. Ughhhhhhh.”

Sighing again, I sit back thinking about my next course of action and how much longer I can stay on this floor.

The lack of an ability to create fire, as well as the lack of properly flammable material, restricts what I and Jessica can eat. We are lucky that Anathema has a decent amount of that juice or we would have already run out of the rations I had taken from those [Mages] before.

In a sense, I have a week to level up my army to something usable and  also arm them with powerful weapons and armor. Weapons that I will need to enchant so that they become even stronger. I will also need to get higher level desbats, a rather annoying and long process since most of them are, on average, level forty, and max out at level ninety-one, but the highest levels are extremely rare to find. So I settle for in the eighties, which is usually a group alpha.

Welp, I have a lot of work going for me. Hopefully, I can get all of this done before the week is over … and maybe have more sex again. Apparently, having sex with a lot of gejan women will increase my standing and respect from the entire species.

Or that is at least what Anathema explained to me. I have no idea whether that is true, I will need to look into it.

***********

Thorous, a level 96 [Blader] and a newly level 11 [Soldier], flicks out with one  blade while her other blade spins through the air, quickly turning into a reverse grip before slashes forward herself.

A smile can be seen on her lips as sweat streams down her scaly face from the exertion.

The former leader of the hunting group sheathes her blades and walks toward a stand, where she takes a crystal jug of water and gulps it all down.

The past week had been amazing for her. Most of all because of the [Hero] directly teaching her how to fight with her two scythe-like swords and other various weapons.

He had come to Thorous, telling her that he needed her to get the [Soldier] class as well, that he has future plans for her.

Initially, Thorous had been quite angry that she would have to take another class even though she was so close to gaining a tier two class. All she needed was seven more levels.

But Quasi had rolled his eyes, asking about her class and demanding to see her blades.

She was about to tell him to suck a tail but stopped after remembering that Anathema might very well punish her if she refused.

So she had removed her swords, weapons her father had given her as a present once she became a [Blader], a class specializing in using slashing and cutting weapons.

When she had given him her swords, he immediately took a stance and then seemingly started to move fluidly. His movements became quick and fluid as the blades blurred around him, moving so naturally as though they were a part of him.

She had never seen something as beautiful and impressive as that.

When she asked what that was, he had frowned and whispered, “lade dancing.”

Thus, in exchange for being taught how to fight and move like that, Thorous had made a deal with the [Hero] that she would obtain the [Soldier] class.

And after only a couple of days of training, Thorous had gained three levels in her [Blader] class, a rather unprecedented amount considering all she did was copy his movements.

A blush forms on her face as she remembers the last time he had taught her, he had told her, , “It is kinda unfair how quickly you are learning this martial art. I think you might be gifted.”

It was a small compliment, and most would have just nodded and continued on, but Thorous had remembered those words, words that for some reason meant a lot to her.

“Ughhhh, I must be turning into a hatchling”, she says, failing to hide the blush that had  spread across her scales.

The males of her kind never really interested her, mostly because they were all so … lacking. They would stand straight and take direct hits from monsters to prove to the females that they were strong, powerful. That nothing can hurt them.

But Thorous’ father had taught her otherwise, stating that only idiots would take a hit willingly.

And to prove his point, he picked a fight with several gejan [Guards] and cut them all open at the joints, all while avoiding every single blow they had attempted on him.

Eventually they all passed out from blood loss and Anathema had thanked him for humbling her men.

Thus, when she found out that the [Hero] preferred to fight like her father, preferring to avoid strikes, she had taken a huge liking to him … so much so that she has had to replace her pants every night.

“He has returned,” someone yells, interrupting her degraded thoughts. he looks around her, seeing children and adults running towards the city gates.

With a smile forming on her lips, she follows them to  the gate, activating a new skill she had gained once she reached level ten in the [Soldier] class.

The skill, [Crowded Movement], allows her to weave through large crowds of people with expert ease, allowing her to use all of her speed to quickly get to the front gates, where a significant portion of the population was present, most of whom are cheering.

Their eyes are looking forward, watching as a massive monstrous beast trudged forward. Its size and frightening girth would have normally caused utter fear in the gejan population, but today it caused the opposite.

All because the monster’s eyes were glowing a powerful deep purple.

CHAPTER TWENTY

“Now Izabelle, what are the three main types of bloodlines a person may have inherited?” Henrietta asks, sitting in the carriage opposite her. Her hands are resting atop an open book of notes she had written to guide Izabelle’s education.

“Ummm, the first type of bloodline is a physical one where someone will have a stronger body.”

Henrietta nods, ”Correct, can you give me an example?”

Izabelle puts her hand on her chin, her forehead wrinkling as she thinks of an answer.

“The, uh, northern clans. They have a Strength bloodline.”

Henrietta smiles, her tail flicking in delight.

“Do you remember the specific clan name?”

Izabelle shakes her head in response, her hair waving left and right.

“The clan name is Jotnar and indeed they have a [Minor Strength Bloodline] that doubles all strength gained through leveling up. They are a strong and hardy people who train some of the most feared and powerful [warriors] in the world.”

Izabelle listens attentively, always happy to learn about the skills and abilities people have ever since she had been introduced to the kids at an orphanage her father owned. She had played with the other kids, daydreaming of what class they would get and what skills they would use.

“That same clan has a second bloodline that is prevalent specifically among the leaders. A different bloodline type. Can you guess what it is?” Henrietta continues.

Izabelle frowns, “Is it an affinity bloodline?” she asks, unsure.

Henrietta nods, ”Indeed it is. And do you know how one would go about figuring out what affinity?”

Izabelle shakes her head.

“Affinity bloodlines, unlike physical bloodlines, can only be convened through an affinity crystal and no other way. Even skills like [Analyze], or the much rarer [Advanced Analyze], which are found in Tier two classes, do not reveal a person's affinity other than the number of affinities above one percent.”

Henrietta leans forward, her rather large breasts jiggling with the movement. ”Next question then. What is the difference between a regular and a minor affinity bloodline?”

Hearing a question she actually knows, a smile blooms on her face, causing Henrietta’s heart to beat slightly faster.

“A minor affinity bloodline is an affinity of at least ten percent. A regular affinity bloodline, like mine, is thirty percent.”

Henrietta claps her hands, “Correct. Now, why does that matter?”

“Because of classes. If you have an affinity, you can get an affinity-based class.” Izabelle says, remembering what her tutor had explained to her after sfe figured out her own affinity.

“Good. Now, how about an example?”

Izabelle places her hand on her lips, looking around to her father on the other side of the carriage, looking out of the window.

“Um, the [Air Mage] class requires you to have a minor affinity in air magic. And the stronger version of the class requires regular affinity.”

“And what is the upgraded class to [Air Mage]?”

Izabelle bites her lip. “I don't know,” she says with a pout.

Henrietta chuckles, finding the cute face Izabelle gives her rather hilarious. Not knowing the various classes of the world as a six-year-old is completely understandable, especially since she needs to be quite a bit older before she can get her first true class, not that [Noble] isn't a class. But the class itself is more of an addon than anything else as it barely restricts leveling speed of another class.

“The correct term is a tier two class, a class which requires a minimum of level one hundred in at least one class. So, if an [Air Mage] reached level one hundred, they would normally become an [Air Archmage], an [Archmage] who specializes in air magic. But, if the [Air Mage] has a strong bloodline in Air, then they instead become an [Aeromancer], a vastly more powerful class than an [Air Archmage].”

Izabelle listens to Henrietta’s explanations with rapt attention, memorizing word for word what is spoken. efore she left the kingdom her [Tutor] had focused her studies on the world, geography, and how to be a proper [Noble]. That’s why she is a level 6 [Noble], though still lacking any skills. But lacking skills is normal since most skills show up around every ten levels.

“Mancer classes are indeed powerful, thus, most [Noble] houses are led by a male individual with such a strong bloodline class. These house heads will only take a wife with at least a minor bloodline in their respective element to ensure that their child will more than likely obtain the father’s bloodline.”

“So … is that why there are few heads which are women?” Izabelle asks curiously, having noticed that practically all of the nobility heads in her kingdom, the ones meeting with her father, were predominantly male.

Henrietta nods. ”That is unfortunately correct. A male head can have multiple wives, thus, increasing the chance of a male child being born with the bloodline. This is why you do not see female heads unless they are both an extremely high level Tier two class and have the [Lady] class, or if no male offspring is available.”

Izabelle frowns, remembering that her mother was the daughter of a low-level noble who had a minor bloodline in water. Her mother’s father had had a normal affinity, but Izabelle’s mother was found to only have a minor bloodline.

But what surprised everyone when Isabelle was born was that she had a normal bloodline in water, something that is extremely rare considering Rathos has no bloodline nor is he a [Noble].

Still, Isabelle was blessed with extraordinary luck. With her bloodline and [Noble] class, finding herself married into a powerful house would have been very simple.

But that will most likely no longer happen now as the borderlands are not a place for political marriages.

“Now then, let's get back on topic,” Henrietta says. ”The leader of Jotnar has the same bloodline affinity that you do. But, he is actually not a [Hydromancer], something you can become. No, he chose to follow the class of [Warrior] and [Water Mage]. What class do you think he has?”

Izabelle’s hand moves, touching the wooden armrest of the carriage, looking through her memories. Of classes, of people, of friends. And then she remembers a conversation she heard from her father, talking about one of his [Soldiers], combining his [Soldier] and [Mage] class.

“[Battlemage]. It is, um, [Water Battlemage]. Right?”

Henrietta shakes her head, ”Close Iza, very close, but [Battle Mage], or as you guessed, [Water Battlemage], as strong as the class is, is still a Tier one class, though a rare and powerful one. His class is actually very unique and quite rare. He is a [Hydrophist].”

A confused look crosses Izabelle’s face, but Henrietta continues speaking.

“[Hydrophist] is not to be confused with [Hydromancer]. All phist classes are upgrades to the  elemental [Battlemage] classes while elemental [Mage] classes are upgrade instead to mancers. Overall, a phist-type class tends to be stronger than a mancer class, but lack in wide range magic, as is common among mancers. This is something your father would be a far better person to explain to you.”

Izabelle turns and looks to her father, finding that he is still staring out of the window, his mind someplace else.

“Let him think,” Henrietta says, stopping Izabelle as she was about to call out for her father.

“Master Rathos has a lot on his mind, it is best to leave him to his thoughts. Instead, how about you tell me about that last type of bloodline. The rarest type.”

Izabelle looks away from her father and smiles, ”Bloodline skills,” she says with confidence, having heard about them from one of the [Maids]. “are very rare and have many requirements to obtain.”

Izabelle snorts, knowing that she got such information from Annesa, a [Maid] under Rathos’ employ who is adamant about having a bloodline skill pertaining to fire magic. Unfortunately, Annesa lacks the ability to even become a [Mage] due to her paltry mana and mana regeneration.

“Hehe, that is correct. I’m sure Annesa explained extensively the requirements.”

Izabelle blushes at Henrietta’s words.

“Still, knowing the bloodlines is very important in understanding a kingdom’s leadership, especially if it is a kingdom who finds itself constantly at war ...”

__________

As Henrietta tutors Izabelle, Rathos continues to stare outside, finding a truly disheartening sight.

[Slaves]. Hundreds of [Slaves] are out on the fields, working tirelessly on the crops while low-level [Slavers] and [Taskmasters] can be seen holding whips, waiting for even one [Slave] to get out of line.

The [Slaves] in question are all beastkin, or Demi-human if you want to be polite, are half-animal people who are lacking in mana capacity but make up for it with a stronger physical body. They tend to have animal horns or ears and most of the time come with other appendages. Sometimes they are even covered in fur.

Rathos used to be one of the people that ignored their plight, thinking that nothing can be done about them. That they were not as smart as regular humans.

However, he was completely convinced by his wife, a [Lady] who owned a significant number of orphanages that catered to both beastkin and human alike. She was a woman with a strong mind and did not give a shit about what the other [Nobles] thought about her.

Which is something that Rathos found so extremely attractive. Never in his life did he meet anyone who was so adamant about beastkin being equal to humans.

A smile forms on Rathos’ lips, remembering how Nafisa wanted to prove her point that as a [Mercenary Leader] or a level over eighty, he really was not that strong.

So she had asked him to spar with one of her [Guards], a large bearkin thirty levels lower than him. Rathos had laughed, saying that it would not take long.

Oh, how wrong he was. The fight had taken over twenty minutes and it was him who ended up  on the ground, sweating profusely, while the bearkin stood over him with a lazy look on his face. It was clear that though he was a higher level with a more powerful class, he still found himself severely out-skilled.

It was a truly humbling experience, and now he is all too happy to have the bearkin and his twin brother to serve and protect him.

It is because of his wife that he glares at the tattered clothing of the [Slaves], their defeated looks, the scars lining their body, and all he feels is anger at those responsible.

But that anger does not last long as he remembers where he is headed … deep into the borderlands, far away from the central continent and all of its problems. He dearly hopes that he can build a new life now, away from prying eyes, where  his daughter can grow up safely.

……..

All for his daughter.

____________

About half an hour later, the first signs of a town come into focus. Wooden walls ten feet high can be seen surrounding it while two low-level [Guards] sit on a stool, one playing with a knife while the other is asleep.

The whole town to him just screams lazy and pathetic. The wall alone should be twice the size as any person with at least seventeen Strength would be able to jump high enough to lift themselves over the wall.

But then, by the fact that the [Guards] aren't even level twenty and seemingly overweight, it seems that few, if any, locals will have over seventeen Strength.

One of the guards, noticing the heavily armed convoy moving towards the town, nudges the other guard, waking him up.

They point in his direction, arguing with each other, and then the formerly asleep guard runs inside, probably to call someone of a better class.

Unfortunately, Rathos was quite mistaken. A large scowling man, a level twenty-seven [Lieutenant], exits the town, his eyes looking warily at Gen’s mounted mercenaries, probably noticing the polished steel and high-quality leather armor.

The [Lieutenant] mouths something, probably activating an [Analyze] skill and then stops, his eyes widening as he sees that the mercenaries are over twice his level and several times the level of his [Guards], or possibly [Soldiers] if you want to talk about the fact that they have a [Lieutenant], only one step up from a [Soldier], leading [Guards] instead of a [Guard Captain].

But then again, to become a [Guard Captain] requires a level of at least fifty and over a hundred [Guards] under his control.

The [Lieutenant] yells something at his [Guard] and runs inside just as Rathos’ group gets within range of the town.

Gen quickly trudges forward, leading the procession as Rathos strains his ears to listen in on the conversation.

______

“I am a [Mercenary Captain] hired by [Trader] Roth. He demands entrance to your town to sell his wares.”

At this point, the [Guard] pales, starting to shake in his boots as he attempts to speak, ”T-t- the entrance fee i-i-is  five drachme per person,” he says, doing his best to avoid direct eye contact.

Gen lifts an eyebrow, staring at the trembling [Guard] and his blatant attempt to obtain a rather large sum of money.

Five drachme would be the usual rate for an entire family to enter a city.

But this is a town and on top of that, a very poor town with clearly corrupt leadership.

It would be better for them to waive the fee completely as a wealthy [Trader] just selling and buying goods could make a great deal of profit for the town.

To Gen, it is clear this town must have a very short-sighted low-level leader.

Gen gives the trembling man a smile and dismounts from his horse, which in turn causes the [Guard] to take a step back.

“Here's the deal. You’re going to step aside, my caravan will enter and if the leader of this town wants some form of payment for entering it, then you can notify them that they will need to speak to [Trader] Roth in person,” Gen explains calmly.

The [Guard’s] eyes widen before he nods and runs into the city, probably heading to inform the  rather obese [Lieutenant].

___________

Though Rathos has no skill that allows him to listen to a conversation from a distance, he still has a high enough Perception stat to see the expressions on  the [Guard’s] face, chuckling at the impressive way Gen had handled the situation.

A few moments later his caravan starts to move once more, entering through the city’s shoddy gates.

Just like outside, the place was filthy. [Slaves] in rags can be seen on the sides of the main road, some working, others carrying bundles, but most are gawking at his group.

Looking around, Rathos notices the poorly made structures to house the [Slaves]. The buildings, if you can call them that, are riddled with holes while the wood is old and decaying. The buildings only start to improve as the caravan gets deeper into the city … though not by much.

To Rathos, this place seems to be significantly worse than he was expecting. He figured that since the town is so far from the forsaken lands, that it would be thriving.But it seems he was quite mistaken.

He can only hope the cities deeper within the lands are of better construction.

________________

His carriage continues down a few winding streets before coming to a stop. Getting up, he tells his daughter to wait for him there while he exits his carriage in the town square, right in front of an inn.

Looking up, Rathos sees a decaying wood sign with the words ‘Sundered Lands Inn’.

Gen dismounts and walks up to Rathos.

“Apparently this is the best inn in the town,” he explains, his own frown on his face as he looks at the decayed wood.

Regardless, it would still be much better to have a proper bed instead of constantly having to camp outside.

Rathos takes a deep breath, ignoring the horrid stench of the town, and walks forward, opening the door and entering the inn.

As he walks in, several faces turn to look at him, almost immediately turning away. All except for a muscular, chiseled man who gestures to Rathos to come closer to the counter.

Which is what Rathos does, noting the rather clean interiors of the room. Even though the wood of the walls and floor have aged, they have been well maintained.

As Rathos reaches the counter, the level 22 [Innkeeper] and level 25 [Bar Fighter] quickly grabs a glass and pours some kind of dark liquid into it and slides it to Rathos.

Rathos looks at the cup and picks it up with his hand, glancing at his ring, enchanted with [Detect Poison], to check it is not glowing. He nods immediately takes a gulp of the liquid, a rather bitter but strong alcoholic drink.

The drink is inferior to what he has been carrying or that he has been drinking, which was primarily wine, but he was a [Mercenary] before, so such a drink doesn’t surprise him.

“I need all of your rooms. Every single one of them,” Rathos exclaims, noting the startled look of the [Innkeeper]. Though to Rathos surprise, the [Innkeeper] regains his composure quickly.

“We have 35 open rooms. Each room costs 3 bronz drachme a night. Meals are a drachme each. Meals for horses is another drachme. If you need a basin of hot water, that will cost another two drachme. If you need a girl for the night, that will be another two drachme.”

The costs were surprisingly cheap. Even Gen had lifted an eyebrow at the price, expecting to have to haggle to lower it. But Rathos just nods and reaches into his bag of holding, a rather expensive item that had been enchanted with [Increased Space] and [Lowered Weight] to allow significantly more items inside while also making said items weigh only a fraction, and retrieves a coin purse.

Digging in, Rathos takes out 10 silver drachme, coins which are each equal to fifty drachme each, and places them on the table.

“I will take all the rooms, including a bath and two meals for every person, including the horses and oxen. If my people want a girl, then they will pay it themselves. We will be leaving tomorrow morning. Any coin left over is yours to keep.”

At this point, Alfonso, which is the [Innkeepers] name, widens his eye at the coins on his table. He quickly scoops them up.

“I will have the rooms prepared immediately,” he states, gesturing to the two serving [Slave] girls and quickly relaying orders while pointing upstairs and downstairs. The girls quickly nod and run towards the stairs while the [Innkeeper] himself runs towards the kitchen.

“You are a shitty [Trader],” Gen voices out from his side.

Rathos wrinkles his eyebrows as he looks towards the [Mercenary Captain], ”How so?”

“Because you could have lowered the price to possibly only a hundred drachme, with the girls included.”

Rathos rolls his eyes, money isn’t a problem for him right now as he currently carries significantly more.

But then he frowns when he thinks that such spending may very well attract unwanted attention to him.

“I should have kidnapped my [Quartermaster],” Rathos whispers under his breath, eliciting a smile from Gen.

“Whatever. What's done is done. I’ll go see if I can sell some of my goods.” Rathos says, turning around and walking outside the inn.

_____

Before long  a stall is formed at the central trading area of the town. The tables have been loaded with several goods, displaying items ranging from alcohol, wine, leather, to various spices and items, which, to Rathos’ understanding, is lacking in the borderlands … cursed lands, sundered lands, whatever other name the locals call the southeastern continent, a place so devoid of mana that no kingdom outside is bothered to attempt to conquer it. Controlling and ruling over it would be more expensive than just leaving the place alone.

Rathos frowns as he watches his [Maid] attempt to sell a rather beautiful garment to an older woman, only for her to notice the rather steep price and walk away.

Most locals  had attempted to haggle the prices of his goods down significantly, but his [Maids] were adamant about making a profit, forcing many customers to walk away. Some have even resorted to violence, which did not go well for them as his two bearkin [Guards] were able to quickly deal with anyone effectively.

Unfortunately, it seems that most of his goods are too costly, with only the wine selling to [Slavers].

As he was deep in thought, Henrietta shows up, her hair and tail slightly wet from her  bath.

“Mistress Izabelle has been cleaned and is now sleeping,” she informs Rathos. He looks up and sees that the sun is slowly setting.

“I see …”

“Henrietta … I am having my doubts if my plan to raise my daughter here was a good idea,” Rathos says as he leans against one of his carts, arms folded across his chest. “If the borderlands are anything like this town, then I fear for my daughter’s well-being. I do not want her to grow up in such a horrible place.”

Henrietta nods, her own thoughts were on the same thing. So she had talked to the [Innkeeper], who was more than eager to explain the situation.

“All of the towns and villages at the border of these lands are extremely poor.”

Rathos gives the foxkin a confused look, waiting for her to continue.

“The lands deeper in are apparently ripe with [Bandits] and [Thieves], but of a much lower level. But here, so close to the central kingdoms, those [Bandits] and [Thieves] are of a much higher level. So much higher that it is within their ability to take over a town several times a year.”

At that explanation, Rathos relaxes, realizing that the much higher level [Bandits], like the ones he had just fought, had probably taken over this town already, robbing everything of value.

“I see … thank you for that.”

Henrietta bows towards her master, happy to be helpful to Izabelle’s father.

He releases a deep breath and turns to look to the sun again as its light slowly starts to disappear.

Just as he was about to order the goods packed back up, the sound of several mounted men grab Rathos’ attention.

Eight people ride in on horses, most of whom seem armed in some way. One of the men is the same [Lieutenant] he had seen at the city gates.

The horses come to a stop a couple of meters away from him and all of the men dismount, led by a short man in a robe with a scowl on his face.

The man is clearly the leader of the town as the armed men surrounding him take to his sides.

Rathos activates his [Silent Analyse] skill as they start to head towards him.

Antos Renish

Level 32 [Lord]

Level 47 [Slaver]

Rathos lifts an eyebrow at the man's levels, clearly higher than anyone else in town, but also far lower than his own.

No, what interests him is the woman next to him.

Kasandra

Level 46 [Mage]

Level 22 [Slave]

She is a foxkin just like Henrietta, except that while Henrietta has a dark, slightly blue tail, Kasandra has a vibrant orange one. A more common color for the foxkin.

Scanning the group with his skill, Rothos sees that the other men around Antos are all soldiers, each in the high twenties with one of them at the level of thirty.

They approach him, Antos giving Rathos a look of someone finding fresh prey.

As the man is a couple of meters away, he turns to the fat [Lieutenant], ”What is his level?”

“[Analyse],” the [Lieutenant] says, activating his skill. The skill hits Rathos’ aura and is unable to find purchase.

The [Lieutenants] expression changes to a frown as he instead is given a garbled mess of information, a clear sign of a [Analyse] spell failing.

“It's not working,” he says out loud, turning to look at Antos.

“What do you mean it’s not working? How does it not work?” Antos asks.

“S-sir, I don't know. My skill just isn't working. I don't know why.”

The [Slaver]’s expression turns angry as he looks towards Rathos, ”How are you blocking [Analyse]? That should not be possible,” he yells, his aura expanding out, converging over Rathos.

“Answer Me!” he demands, activating a skill called [Minor Authority], a useful ability that a [Lord] can obtain to inpose control on other people.

But to Rathos, a greatly experienced [General], it is but a child's attempt to manipulate. With utmost ease, the aura pressing down on him disappears.

Rathos straightens his back and stops leaning on the cart, the level of threat these people pose shouldn’t be underestimated even if they are so much weaker than him.

But still, that is no reason to not keep up your guard. All it takes is one mistake for a person to lose his life.

With a wave of his head, he directs Henrietta behind him as he takes a confident step forward, aura brimming at his call, ready to act as needed.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

“Master.”

Shwip

“I-I-I-I’m Sorry.

Shwip

“I'll do better!”

Shwip, Shwip

Kasandra watches as a whip made of leather and metal flies through the air and slams down on a cat demihuman cowering naked on the floor, squealing for mercy the entire time.

But her master, Antos Renish, shows little sympathy as his hand moves up and down, the whip striking the poor girl’s back, ripping and cutting skin with each loud impact.

Shwip

“You did not swallow! Do you believe yourself better!”

Shwip

“You spat out what I gave you!”

Shwip

“You are just a Fucking [Slave] and nothing more!”

Shwip, Swhip, Shwip

The strikes continue as her naked master continues to abuse the [Slave] next to his bed.

A [Slave] he had ordered to suck him off.

Kasandra's tail is wrapped around her leg, shaking after every cry of pain the girl screams.

Only after the [Slave] is caked in blood does the master stop his torture.

His hand drops the whip as he turns to me, a smile on his face and an erection between his legs.

“Kasandra. Undress and please me … and do make sure to swallow.”

Nodding, Kasandra starts to remove her clothes, knowing that the master prefers his women completely unclothed.

But her undressing is interrupted by the master's room door being violently opened.

“Antos! We have a problem,” says a rather large man as he wobbles through the door, stopping when he notices the situation he just barged in.

Antos turns away from Kasandra, looking at the overgrown pig he had picked to lead the town’s [Guards]. A look of annoyance passes the master’s face before he speaks.

“Speak. What happened.”

The [Lieutenant]’s eyes move from the unconscious girl's body, then to Kasandra, and finally on Antos’ naked form, his erection noticeably smaller.

“A [Trader] came into town like he owns the place. He refused to pay the entrance fee and now he is staying at Alfonso’s inn.”

“And why didn't you have the [Soldiers] enter and force the man to pay?”

A frown forms on the big man’s face as he takes a gulp, trying to avoid the master's penetrating gaze, ”Cause he has over forty [Mercenaries] and a [Mercenary captain] of level 86 in there.”

Antos expression quickly changes from rising anger to curiousity and intrigue. His town is too small and too far out of the way for such high-level people to visit, especially armed with enough [Mercenaries] to stop any force he can muster.

“And that [Trader] is with them?”

The [Lieutenant] shakes his head, ”No, he is in the town square, selling his overpriced goods. All of the [Mercenaries] are inside the inn.”

A smile forms on Antos face as he moves and grabs his clothes.

“Good. Get your highest level [Soldiers] on horseback and meet me at the front gate. We will be visiting this [Trader] as soon as possible.”

The [Lieutenant] nods, running out and bellowing names while Antos quickly puts on his clothes, sex all but forgotten.

After a moment, he is all dressed and turns to Kasandra, ”Why the fuck are you standing there. Put your clothes on and get dressed.”

“Yes, Master,” Kasandra replies, putting her pants and shirt back on while her tail fits through a hole.

“Follow,” Antos yells as he exits the room.

Kasandra, not having many clothes, not even shoes, grabs her staff and runs out, moving behind her master, traveling through a hallway, and finally getting near the entrance. Exiting out, Kasandra notices several horses and men standing next to the town stone near the gates. They are touching the stone, checking to see if they’ve leveled, all while the townsfolk wait their turn to do the same.

For a fee, of course.

Seeing Antos, the [Soldiers] mount their horses and wait for Antos to mounts his own, a strong white breed he had obtained from a [Slaver]. Mounting her own horse, Kasandra soothes the animal with her hand, the horse acknowledging her soft and careful touch.

Animals, Kasandra finds them far better than other people. Many times when she had not been needed to please the master during the night, she found herself going to the stables and petting the animals. They were always so happy and caring, even more so when she offered dried fruit to them.

With a loud “Hiya,” the horses start to move, heading in the direction of the trader's area, a place that no longer bustles with trade as it used to.

_____________

The sun continues to set, barely peeking over the buildings as the group of riders enters the trader's areas.

Kasandra looks around and sees the stall with many items on them. Two bearkin demihumans stand strong in resplendent armor as a bunny and cat demihuman stand behind the stall in maid outfits, clearly in charge of selling the goods.

[Slaves] selling goods is a very confusing sight for Kasandra to see. Being able to count is something rarely seen, let alone to read and write. Something Kasandra herself has never learned to do.

Her master dismounts and everyone follows suit, heading toward the older man leaning on a cart.

Kasandra ignores the man, her eyes focusing instead on the old fox demihuman standing next to him. Of all the demihumans, the foxkin as they are called, are the rarest breed, due to the rarity of giving birth. Even rarer are the males.

But what makes them even more unique and highly prized as [Slaves] is their potential to use magic far better than any human ever can. With a mana pool and regen rate double that of your average human [Mage], foxkin usually find themselves being very well taken care of, similar to quality goods.

The other fox’s gaze meets her own, the sheer confidence of the older woman causing a slight fear to creep down Kassandra’s tail and make her want to back down and submit.

“What is his level?” her master asks the [Lieutenant], the fat man who wobbles next to him.

“[Analyse],” he calls out, activating his skill, A skill Kasandra knows is the only reason the man was hired.

“It’s not working.”

A confused expression crosses Kasandra’s face hearing those words. Never in her life did she know that a [Analyse] spell could fail. Even her former master, who was a [Mage], did not even hint it could fail.

“What do you mean it’s not working? How does it not work?” her master asks, also confused.

“S-sir, I don't know. My skill just isn't working. I don't know why,” the [Lieutenant] replies , stuttering with his words.

Her master becomes angry, turning toward the individual they attempted to gather information from, his face becoming red, ”How are you blocking [Analyse]? That shouldn't be possible.”

A feeling washes over Kasandra, a feeling she had felt before when her master had been very angry, usually towards someone else.

“Answer me!” her master yells with force, causing her to shake in fear.

But to Kasandra’s surprise, the bearded [Trader] merely stops leaning on the cart, seemingly relaxed. With a slight nod of his head, the other fox demihuman moves behind him, a relaxed expression on her face as well.

“Making demands after you attempt to manipulate me is a rather pathetic display of power,” the [Trader] finally speaks, shaking his head, ”and to answer your question, there are many enchanted items that can quite easily make an [Analyse] spell fail.”

Her master’s face goes red at the insult, his anger now on full display, ”Pathetic display? You dare insult me?” her master yells, a smile identical to when he tortures [Slaves] moves to his lips. ”It seems you need to be taught a lesson of respect. [Soldiers].”

At his call, the men around Kasandra unsheathe their weapons and move toward the [Trader], who doesn't even react, a bored expression still on his face. An expression that causes her to feel very unsettled.

“Beros,” the [Trader] calls. One of the stall [Guards], a huge seven-foot-tall armored bearkin, steps between the [Soldiers] and himself.

The bearkin, another rare species of demihuman, stands tall with heavy white steel armor. He unsheathes his sword, a massive blade as long as her leg. He then retrieves his shield from his back, its size and weight dwarfing her several times. As he attaches the shield to his left arm, Kasandra notices that the shield has colored lines moving from its center, outward. At the center is a small ruby crystal.

The [Soldiers] halt, wary of the bearkin standing menacingly, lording over them in both size and strength.

“Stand aside!” her master yells, his aura expanding with  his voice, striking the bearkin, who stumbles slightly, shakes his head, and regains his composure, prepared.

“MOVE!,” another wave of aura, this one making her teeth clench.

But to her surprise, the bearkin doesn't even flinch, his eyes revealing a deep anger that makes the hairs on her tail stand up on end.

“Kasandra!,” her master yells, causing her to yip and jump.

He points, ”Set him on fire!”

Nodding, I move in front and put my hands out, away from my chest. With a deep breath, I call out my mana as I activate my skill, ”[Fire Blast].”

A ball of flame forms between my two hands, condensing my mana before I thrust away, sending the ball flying toward the armored bear. My spell, [Fire Blast] is a stronger variant of [Fire Ball] that  completely engulfs the target in flames when struck, making the spell viable even against armored targets.

But to my surprise, the shield seems to ripple, taking my spell, lowering its power before it smacks the shield, barely even spreading any flames. The shield showed no scorch marks nor any signs of damage.

Even her master, who was angry before, starts to show signs of fear.

But it doesn't last long, as her Master's temper rises up once more.

“It’s only one person. Everyone, surround and attack him,” he yells, his aura exploding as the [Soldiers] gain newfound bravery.

They immediately rush the bearkin, quickly surrounding him.

Kasandra, looking at the [Trader], finding the same bored look on his face. He seem to find the whole display uninteresting.

And that is all Kasandra needed to know that this whole idea of her master’s was horrible.

One of the [Soldiers] rushes behind the bearkin, attempting to strike him with his axe.

But the bearkin spins around, and instead of blocking, he dodges to the side, forcing the heavy axe to strike air, slamming into the dirt road with impressive force.

Then, just as fast as he dodged, the bearkin’s arm moves and positions the side of his shield, ramming it into the guy's neck, breaking his windpipe, and forcing the [Soldier] down.

The [Soldier] immediately grabs his throat, trying to inhale, but failing as his body struggles to breathe. Only a moment passes before his struggling stops, the [Soldier] dead on the spot.

“Idiots! Attack him from all sides!” her master yells, eliciting the [Soldiers] to engage.

And engage they did, some of them activating skills like [Heavy Strike] or [Power Strike]. Others just attacking, aiming for the bearkin’s joints.

But all of it fails as the bearkin activates several of his own skills, his deep voice rumbling powerfully, ”[Gladiators Zone], [Quick Movement], [Enhanced Armor].”

Like a maelstrom, the bear moves faster than ever, his armor gaining a slight glow as he moves his body, taking the attackers head-on with his armor, only shifting his body to redirect any strikes away from his joints while he uses his shield to block [Heavy Strike] and his sword to block [Power Strike].

Weapons glance off the steel, not even leaving a scratch as the bearkin reacts quickly, his shield slamming downward, bashi g a [Soldier] that was aiming for his legs while his  sword flicks out, beheading a soldier and cutting through the leather armor of another.

Without stopping, the bear engages on the [Soldiers]. He kicks a leg and shatters the ankle. He elbowing another another with enough force prone the man while headbutting a third, with enough force to indent the [soldiers] unarmored head.

The bearkin moves toward a [Soldier] that is getting back up. He lifts his sword and strikes  downward.

The [Soldier] raises his sword, attempting to block with both hands.

Unfortunately, the sheer strength of the bearkin, and the far better steel of his enchanted sword, breaks the [Soldier’s] weapon, allowing the blade to continue on, unimpeded, ripping into the [Soldier’s] chest, piercing the poor man's lungs.

Kasandra watches the eight [Soldiers] all get killed off within what feels like less than a minute.

“ A level 86 [Guard],” the fat [Lieutenant] says meekly, having activated his [Analyse] skill without Kasandra noticing.

The [Guard] in question, moves around, stabbing all of the [Soldiers] bodies, making sure they are all dead before cleaning his sword of blood on another's clothing.

Fear. She has seen it before on [Slaves], felt it numerous times herself. But this is the first time she saw it on her masters' face. All his confidence and anger completely gone as he stares at the gory remains of the [Soldiers] he had ordered to die for him.

Kasandra wasn't ordered to fight, to engage, and she was utterly glad she wasn't because she is quite sure she would be dead or dying right now.

“So Antos, what will it be?”

Turning her head, the [Trader] looks to her master, a smug smile on his lips as the fox takes his side.

Without any warning, Antos panics, turning and running towards the horses.

And right as Kasandra turns around to follow, a spear of ice flashes past her head, ripping into the chest of her master, passing through and laying his organs across the dirt ground.

Turning around quickly, Kasandra sees the other fox, her hand extended out, bits of frost falling off it.

Their eyes meet and Kasandra’s ears flow down, tail going between her legs instinctively as she completely submits to the older women's penetrating stare.

_____________

He found the whole fight rather … boring. The fight was the equivalent of a trained experienced [Soldier], who had seen and experienced war, fighting children without a class.

It was rather distasteful to watch. He wonders how nobility is able to stomach such violence in their bloody arenas, forcing [Slaves] without any combat training to fight to the death.

‘Disgraceful is what it is.’

Rathos’ eyes move from the corpses, towards Berros.

‘Though it does have potential in creating some of the most powerful fighters around.‘

Sighing loudly, Rathos moves toward the two people left alive. The scared fox girl and the shaking [Lieutenant], who has fallen on the ground, seemingly getting ready to grovel.

And grovel he does.

“[Trader] Roth, I am but a humble [Lieutenant], charged with protecting this town from those that wish to cause trouble. But even I must adhere to the ruler of this town. I was merely doing my jo—”

The [Lieutenant] stops as Rathos gives him a look that could kill. Rathos speaks up.

“It’s possible you are telling the truth, but I am not certain … and I do not take risks.”

Rathos pauses, but only for a moment.

“Henrietta.”

The head [Maid] and level 56 [Water Mage] extends her hand.

The [Lieutenants] eyes widen, ”No please I—”

“[Ice Spear],” Henrietta says, a spear of ice forms in her hand, quickly accelerating and penetrating the man's skull.

Her hand moves back down as the fat man's body strikes the ground, dead. Henrietta had been averse to killing before, but she had had to harden her heart, to protect her mistress from both current and future problems.

Regardless, killing two people by her own hand is not something she can easily forget, thus, it will require a long snuggle session with her mistress.

Stepping away from the dead body, Rathos finds himself making eye contact with Kasandra, who, as can be expected, is shivering in fear. The fact that the girl is still alive after her master had died means that her collar, a boring brown thing, is more than likely not enchanted.

“Henrietta, would you be able to train her?” Rathos asks, eyeing the fox with a curious look.

Henrietta turns to her master, “Why? Do you wish to have her join us?” she asks curiously.

Rathos smiles, enjoying the way Henrietta speaks to him, showing respect but also unafraid to ask questions.

“Mhmm, she is very capable. If I am not wrong about her age, then she is a level 42 [Mage] at the age of sixteen. I can only imagine how many levels she can obtain in several more years.”

Kasandra’s tail slowly extends, her fear slowly abating.

But that doesn't last long as Henrietta looks to the fox, who immediately goes back to becoming scared.

“I can … though I do find it confusing that she only has the [Mage] class instead of [Fire Mage]. She is clearly a fire type.”

Rathos hands come to his lips, thinking.

‘Indeed, all fox demihumans have an element. By the color of her tail, she should have been offered the [Fire Mage] class … unless.’

“Kasandra!” Rathos addresses her, causing the fox girl to jump slightly at the call of her name.

“Were you ever offered the [Fire Mage] class?”

Kasandra nods quickly, “Yes master.”

Rathos waits for the explanation, but Kasandra just continues to look at him hopefully.

Luckily, Henrietta is always there to take charge of his blunders.

“Kasandra dear, please explain why you refused the [Fire Mage] class.”

The foxkin looks away from Henrietta, unable to make eye contact with the older lady.

“My master … my old master … he told me to take the [Mage] class. He did not ask what classes were offered.”

Rathos nods, now understanding the situation.

‘Her master was an idiot.’

“Well then, as of right now, you will be joining me as my servant. Henrietta here will be responsible for your training.”

Rathos turns to Henrietta, ”But before that, we will go back to the inn and have the [Mercenaries] accompany you to her master’s former home.”

Henrietta curtsies before turning towards the other [Maids] and [Guards]. ”Pack up, we are heading back to the inn.”

Immediately, the two [Maids] start to pack up, packing all the supplies on the carts while Rathos himself moves towards the horses, using his aura to reel them in.

While this happens a crowd of people, both [Slaves] and [Slavers], gawk at the sheer brutality of the situation. Of how their own town leader was so easily killed off. None dared come any closer, all waiting and hoping that the corpses aren’t looted.

_____________

Several hours later Rathos finds himself sitting in the inn.

“I would have preferred that that man lived,” Alfonso explains, sitting across from Roth, an exhausted look on his face.

Apparently, feeding and cleaning an entire company of [Mercenaries], [Maids], and [Butlers] is not an easy task. The only saving grace was that the [Maids] and [Butlers] under Rathos were happy to assist in the task. It was surprising and greatly appreciated.

Even more surprising was the fact that his [Slaves] were never mistreated by any of the [Mercenaries]. That was quite surprising for Alfonso, as his slaves have been roughed up many times before.

“As much as I hate the man’s guts, he actually gave this town some organization. He paid off the [Bandits] and left the business alone as long as he got payment.” Alfonso continues explaining to Rathos.

But Rathos, though he takes pity on the man and this town's situation, could not risk leaving anyone alive that could stab him in the back.

Sighing loudly, something he seems to have been doing often lately, he grabs the drink in front of him and gulps it down, looking around the inn. Barely any [Mercenaries] were still there. Apparently, looting a town leader’s estate is far more interesting.

“Sorry, but I do not take kindly to being robbed,” Rathos explains, placing the cup back down.

Alfonso places his hand on his face, rubbing it, ”I understand that you wish to leave early in the morning, but I would very much prefer you stay for a couple of days here in the town. I am even willing to waive the fee completely for your stay.”

At those words, a curious look crosses Rathos face, ”Waive the fee? What exactly are you expecting to happen in a couple of days?”

Alfonso tightens his hand in a fist, taking a deep breath. His senses telling him that lying would not be beneficial to him.

“A [Bandit Leader] by the name of Karron will be coming to this town for a tithe. He will demand payment, and if he finds out that the town is leaderless, then we all will be sacked. Your [Mercenaries] would be very useful in driving him off.”

Rathos nods, understanding the situation. It seems that Gen’s [Mercenaries] know how to keep their mouths shut, apparently not having divulged any information about himself and what had happened on the trip here.

“You don’t need to worry. We met Karron a couple of days ago, he attacked my caravan and failed. He’s dead and so are all of his men. None were left alive.” Rathos says matter-of-factly.

Alfonso’s eyes widen. Karron was the main reason that his town was never able to grow. The town was constantly forced to pay coin, never allowed to fully grow.

But now, with him dead and the town leaderless, everything changes.

Alfonso quickly stands up, his eyes glazed, thoughts going everywhere, ”I … I need to speak to several people. I thank you for this information.”

And like a man bursting with newfound confidence, Alfonso runs out of his own inn, leaving Rathos rather confused … and slightly upset. He had hopped to get more information about the situation he was in.

He sighs and grabs his cup again, finding it empty, and nobody to refill it.

_________

Morning came and Rathos finds his caravan ready and waiting to leave in front of the inn. Everyone is ready and the [Mercenaries] are mounted. His daughter is safely inside the carriage with Henrietta and Kasandra.

But before he enters the carriage, he is interrupted by Alfonso, who runs out of the inn, looking very different, as though a skill like [Brave Heart] was activated, improving his confidence and looks significantly.

Alfonso stops before Rathos and extends his hand, ”Roth, I want to thank you for staying at the inn. You may not realize it, but you have changed this town significantly.”

Rathos, though not sure what the man means, takes Alfonso’s hand and shakes it.

“I am happy my presence was helpful.”

As Alfonso retracts his hand, a frown comes to his face right before asking a question. ”I understand you are leaving, but would it be possible for you to do me a bit of a favor?”

“Depends on what it is.”

Alfonso’s hand comes to his face, stroking his beard, ”Well, I have a daughter … her name is Scarlet and she left possibly twenty years ago … she was a [Soldier], and last I heard, she became a [Lieutenant]. But that was a couple of years ago … If you see her, tell her that I miss her.”

Rathos nods, the request rather easy, though the chances he will ever cross her path are slim to none.

“If I see her, I will tell her,” Rathos promises, turning around and mounting the front of his carriage, taking the reins.

_____________

Several hours pass and the town is no longer within sight. The road is rather barren, with few trees for shade. If what Henrietta told him was correct, the borderlands fill with trees eventually.

At this moment, Gen shows up on horseback, riding next to the carriage.

“Are you sure you don't need us a bit longer?” Gen asks

Rathos shakes his head, ”No, Gen. Where I’m going, there will be little money for you to make. Thank you for escorting me out of town.”

Gen laughs and shakes his head, ”Ha, you say that but you gave us all of the loot from that building. Granted, it wasn't very good, but my men are still happy.”

Rathos nods. The decision to let the [Mercenaries] keep what they found at Antos estate was a good choice considering none spoke of himself actually being a [General]. A truly impressive amount of self-control for a company so large.

“Well then, Gen, this is goodbye. Please circle around and avoid the town if you can.”

Gen nods and flicks the reigns of his horse, turning and galloping away, his [Mercenaries] following behind him.

Rathos sighs, his mind on what he will do. Hopefully, he can get an easy job, something that doesn't involve combat.

“Hmmm, maybe I can become a [Shopkeeper]”

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

You know, it's funny really. My life that is. At least for me.

See, I have lived several different lives, all through being summoned by gods from Earth. The exact number is 28, though I guess it’s 29 now. Anyhow, I think it started after my 17th summon that I started getting, well, bored with the summons.

I mean, don't get me wrong, they are fun and I do meet interesting people, but by then I had lived for over 6 thousand years. Eventually, you gain so much life experience that many things don't surprise you anymore.

Magic, monsters, gods, eventually it all becomes very … predictable. It all meshes together.

But, and a big but, I can safely say that this summoning is utterly amazing. A world modeled after a gaming system … or is our gaming systems modeled after this world?

Which, surprisingly, is a possibility considering there is so much mythology of monsters and gods that are actually present in this world that are also present on Earth.

Makes you really wonder what the connection is.

But enough about that, it's this world that is so much more interesting. Gaining classes, levels, diving into an actual dungeon, and that type of stuff.

I mean, come on! It's such a new experience. And my situation right now, well, it's funny when you think about it, especially as I hadn't expected to be in this situation.

I straighten my legs over my mount, relaxing to the sound of the monster's wing beating.

I lean over, looking down.

And on the ground, I have an army of giant lizard people walking in an organized march.

Granted, 300 is not that big of an army really, but that’s merely the start. I’ll need much more, especially since my task of destroying the world will require a truly formidable force.

Luckily, I’m currently in an extremely dangerous dungeon heading deeper into an even more dangerous part of the dungeon. A perfect place to raise an army and get stronger.

And at just this moment, the entrance to the next level of the dungeon comes into view.

It’s a small hole in a wall leading downward, a hole that I so fervently wish was bigger. Many a night I have lost sleep because of its small size. I had even been forced to dismantle a new friend I had created for this very reason … It was a terrible time indeed.

But that's the thing about life. It may offer you lemons, but those lemons could be the size of minivans with poisonous internal acid spraying from its orifices ...

“What kind of fucking analogy am I thinking off,” I say to no one in particular, scratching the side of my neck.

“Ugh, whatever. Damn you, Anathema, and your voluptuous ass … and surprising stamina.”

‘I wish I slept more. Damn woman can last forever … and that ass, I never knew scales could feel so smooth.’

“Nothing I can do now,” I say, getting up, mentally ordering my mount to land me next to the entrance.

____________________

“Alright, here’s the plan,” Quasi starts, standing before everyone. ”Me and Zorren,” he points at himself and then at a large lizard man with a missing tail, several scars, and an unmoving arm, ”will be heading down first,” he then points at me, ”while Jessica here will be following behind with my minions.”

I move my head, looking at Mule, a very useful and loyal undead that dwarfs my size by almost two feet, and then I look at the other minions, 30 giant bat-like undead monsters that Quasi had beaten down, killed, and raised into his undead minions.

“And then you all will come after with your squads,” he says, waving at the organized line of [Soldiers] standing behind the [Lieutenants].

At his orders, five of the gejan leaders salute, their hands moving to their forehead before moving away.

Quasi turns around, gives me a quick smile, and starts heading down into the tunnel with Zorren.

I quickly follow behind, all the undead immediately following me, the giant desbats barely able to fit through the hole, even with their wings folded.

As I walk down the long tunnel I order mule to stay closer to me, allowing the glowing fungi on his body to light the way. As the only person with a lack of night vision, seeing anything more than ten feet is close to impossible.

Surprisingly, it doesn't take long before the extra light becomes unneeded. The exit to the tunnel can be seen, and from it, bright light is pouring through, a confusing sight considering we are actually deep inside a cave.

As I follow Quasi through the opening, my eyes squint as they attempt to adjust to the unbelievably bright scenery before me.

__________

“Holy fucking hell, it's a jungle … in a goddam cave.”

Trees. Massive trees can be seen for miles … several hundred miles considering I can’t see the other end of the dungeon.

If not for the ceiling of stone, I would have thought we were outside the dungeon.

The place is an extensive dome, and at the center, hanging from the ceiling is a massive glowing crystal, bursting with a warm light.

And don't get me started on the fact that it's exceptionally humid. I got pretty comfortable with the constant cave temperature, but this is going to really change things.

I turn to Zorren, who is looking forward, blinking rapidly as his eyes attempt to adjust.

“Why didn’t you tell me this next part of the dungeon is a literal jungle? I could have prepared better!”

Zorren, moves his head to me, away from the light shining on his cracked scales.

“You never asked,” he says, his tone bored and relaxed.

At this point, I can't really blame him. I was under the impression everything was going to be very cave-like as I got deeper, with just minimal changes to the fauna. And my arrogance kept me from asking…

“Fuck,” I say, moving forward, giving more space for the others to come through.

The bright side, at the very least, is that the entrance to this floor is actually a pretty large clearing of stone and the jungle is about a mile away, which means I can make a base of operations.

I look at the gejan as they enter the floor, their eyes moving quickly in wonder, pointing at everything as though they have never seen it before.

And now that I think about it, only Zorren and probably Anathema had ever left the first floor.

‘Well, I guess it would be best to let everyone get a feel for the area first. In the meantime, I can scout.’

With a mental command, I order twenty of my desbat undead to take flight, the mana coursing through them allowing them to see without actually needing eyes, which I think they would be utterly blind without.

With my skill, I can see through their eyes as my undead flies over the treetops, looking down.

And what I see puts a smile on my face, something to most people would actually be a frown.

Huge dinosaur-like monsters, similar to raptors are running around, hunting an even larger, more dangerous-seeming prey. The raptors run quickly, surrounding it while my desbat floats in the air, giving me a good view.

The massive beast, something similar to a bull except with spikes of bones jutting out of the sides of its body, raises its tail, a massive ball being at the end. A ball that, in less than a second, has spikes burst out, turning into a spiked ball.

The beast roars, its eyes looking around, seemingly waiting for the raptor-like monsters to make the first move.

And that they did, quickly rushing forward in perfect unison. They accelerate as they rush the larger monster, who flicks its tail toward an incoming raptor, missing the first raptor as it lowers its posture and dodges the tail while the others jump above the attack and land on the monsters spiked back.

As they land on the monster back, not all are able to do so safely. Many raptors get impaled by the spikes thanks to the monster’s erratic movement. But it seems their mobility and sheer numbers make up for their smaller size as they quickly mount the beast, uprooting its skin. The beast seems to not be able to protect its back, nor does it seem it is able to roll over due to the spikes sticking out from its side. A couple of minutes pass before the massive beast falls, covered in its own blood while the living raptors swarm for their meal.

Three raptors died killing the monster, something that I would find rare in the animal kingdom, but it could just mean that the raptors reproduce quickly and efficiently.

Coming back to myself, I see that the leaders are staring at me, waiting for orders. Apparently, I had been watching that fight for much longer than I thought.

I scratch my head, calling back my scouts, finding that only seventeen answer back … three had died without me even knowing.

Crud.

I turn to Zorren.

“So, where are we headed? What is our destination? Where is the entrance to the third floor?”

Zorren’s good arm moves up, pointing far into the distance, the opposite of where we are. ”It is at the other end of this floor.”

I look and squint.

“Oh … that's nice. So it’s located hundreds of miles away through a killer jungle … this just gets better and better.” I rub my head, failing to hide a smile, secretly enjoying the challenge.

“Well, the first order of business is to make a base of operation.”

I turn to the upper ranks of my army. Four [Lieutenants] and a [Quartermaster], all who had gained over twenty levels in the [Soldier] class and had been found to be good leaders.

Four of them are women while the last one, one of the largest gejan, a [Guard], looks at me respectfully, the same one which I had beaten down in front of his peers. Funny how their culture works. Apparently, strength is respected, while overwhelming strength is worshiped.

Or in the sense of female gejan, sexually attractive. This is why the females of my army can't seem to keep their eyes off of me. Some even seemingly breathe hard just from staring at me.

It doesn't help that I have an abnormally huge libido and find the females very attractive. Yup, humanoid lizard females with scales covering most of their skin are actually quite sexy. Especially the tail, that’s just a huge plus.

“What we need is a place to rest. So I want Darrow's team,” I point at the male [Lieutenant], ”to head toward the forest and start cutting down trees and bringing them here.” I explain getting a nod from the guy.

Darrow is the de facto leader of what I call the heavy infantry, all of which are gejan [Guards] holding massive shields and weapons with active and passive skills that improve of their defenses.

I turn to the next gejan in line, Tessa, the de facto princess of the group. I had boned her about three times. Twice alone and once with her mother, Anathema. She’s surprisingly perverted, possibly more so than her mother. Tessa is the leader of my scouts, consisting of classes that can move quickly and silently with abilities focused on evasion. A perfect job for someone with over fifty levels in the [Scout] class.

“Tessa, take your team and explore the forest. Your job will be to warn the others if any threats are incoming. I don't want any surprises.”

She nods in reply.

I then turn to the next [Lieutenant], and probably the third most powerful individual in this whole group. ”Thorous, I want you and your group to be close to Darrow’s team so that you can support them if they need the help."

She nods as well, her tongue flicking out, tasting the air while her eyes are focused on my crotch.

Thorous' group is comprised of classes whose main job it is to fight, my heavy hitters. In essence, she has a lot of [Warriors], [Bruisers], [Fist fighters], and various other classes focused on combat.

Moving away from her, I stop and look at a rather tall female gejan, a woman who, to my surprise, did not gain the [Lieutenant] class. She instead gained the [Quartermaster] class, which, combined with her [Organizer] class, allowed me to quite easily place her in charge of the non-combat personnel, like the [Skinners], [Carvers], [Crafters], [Builders], etc.

“Marcia, I'll teach you and your people how to work with wood. It shouldn’t take long and I’m sure we will have what looks like a base built very quickly.” She smiles and nods respectfully to me, ”I will prepare,” she says, moving towards the back of my army, her waist swishing side to side as I stare fiercely at her long legs and probably firm ass.

‘Stupid … Fuckin' … Libido!’

Finally, after a long and arduous struggle with my eyes, I turn to the last member of my leaders, a very short gejan female with crystal white scales. Very cute and rather attractive, she leads the smallest group. A group comprised of gejan who have a very unique repertoire of skills. For example, Lilly here is seemingly a rather normal gejan, albeit extremely short. But when I activate my [Advanced Analyse] skill, then it reveals that things are actually quite different.

Lilly

Level 71 [Breaker]

Level 27 [Lieutenant]

The smallest of the gejada, Lilly is found to be both a great worker and a loyal follower. Unfortunately, her short stature had made it impossible for her to attract the eye of any male.

Strength

65

Dexterity

21

Stamina

68

Perception

31

Endurance

18

Vitality

357

Mana

50

M/regen

0.5

Affinity

0

Intelligence

41

Willpower

193

Soul

120

Major Strength Bloodline: This individual gains three times as much strength per class bonus.

Restricted Growth Bloodline: This individual cannot grow any larger. Vitality is significantly increased.

Compressed Muscles: Due to [Restricted Growth], weight is increased significantly.

As you can see, Lilly is a very confusing and interesting individual who was born with a curious status effect. Talking to Jessica, I found out that bloodlines aren't supposed to be as common as the Gejan make it out to be. They are supposedly rare and are cultivated by the upper class of human society to produce offspring that share the same exact bloodline.

However, the fact that nobody else shares her bloodline, while some people in her team have completely different ones, confuses the [Priestess].

Regardless, her bloodline makes her a very powerful [Berserker], especially considering she carries a giant bone whip on her back.

“Lilly, I want you and your team to stand by. Your team will stay here and protect Marcia if a threat somehow finds itself past the first line of defense..”

She tilts her head but ultimately nods. Her group is unfortunately not very good at working with the other teams due to varying differences in capabilities..

I take a deep breath and clap my hands, “Get going and try not to get crushed by falling trees.”

As one, the group moves and I quickly find myself alone with Jessica and Zorren, who just stands silent, deep in thought as he stares into the abundant greenery.

______________________________

The whole situation just seems so... surreal to Jessica. Never in her life did she expect to find herself serving a [Hero], let alone find herself in a dungeon that does not act like a dungeon at all. Never would she expect a massive forest in a dungeon. The sight is both surreal and … exhilarating. She probably should actually be scared of the whole situation, of the monsters that can easily kill her.

But these last several weeks have hardened her. She has adapted quickly, something she’s always done very well. Whether it be becoming a [Priestess], watching [Soldiers] die in her arms, or even living a [Slave’s] life. She had always learned and quickly adapted.

This is why, when a monstrous caw is heard in the distance she barely flinches as a massive bird flies over the trees, heading towards the slowly building camp.

Massive sums up the bird in one word, probably twice the size of a desbat, it glides over the trees before quickly turning around in panic as an army of desbats launch from the trees to meet it, intercepting and ramming the monstrous beast, latching onto it and shredding feathers.

Screams of pain are heard from the forest, quickly silencing as the monster's corpse is lifted into the air by the desbats and carried to the camp, its eye having been gouged out.

She turns to her [Hero], who looks at the approaching corpse and licks his lips before turning and yelling for a fire, his hands waving amicably as the gejan give him a confused look.

Chuckling, she remembers that the gejan have no need for fire, nor do they have a fire source. So it is not surprising that they have little to no idea what fire actually is.

Which is a problem for her and Quasi. Neither can eat meat without cooking it first. This is also why Quasi chose today to head towards the next level of the dungeon.

We had run out of salted meat the day before. It was either continue on, leave the dungeon, or starve to death.

A smile crosses Jessica's lips as she listens to Quasi attempting to explain fire, telling them it's hot and it can burn.

Sighing out loud, Jessica shakes her head and positions her body towards the light, allowing the warmth to touch her exposed skin. It had been a while since she had been able to open her robe, forced to keep it on due to the rather chilling air of the floor before.

Eventually, with the warm light caressing her skin, soothing her, she feels sleep quickly take its hold.

[1] While technically not from Earth, and while it is not necessarily relevant to our discussion, Earth is one of the strongest connections we have to each other. We have each dallied there, for better or worse.

About The Author

Nino Becirevic

Hello! If you are reading this, then you have read through my book and reached the end... or you skipped to the end for some reason. Regardless, I want to thank you for buying my book.

Now that I've got that out of the way, I want to mention that Inexorable Chaos is a Web-Novel that has over 200 minimally edited chapters freely avaialble on Royalroad.com.

Link: https://www.royalroad.com/fiction/22546/inexorable-chaos

Please note that these chapters are not professionaly edited, so quality may differ. Depending on how well my first book does, I can start preparing the next ones.

If you want to continue supporting me outside of buying my books, I also have a Patreon with advanced chapters avaialble.

Link: https://www.patreon.com/QuasiEludo?fan_landing=true

Lastly, I also have a Discord avaialble if you wish to talk to fans of Inexorable Chaos and join one of the many cults that have risen up over the years.

Link: https://discord.gg/aR4cTxm

Again, thank you for reading my novel and supporting my work.