Chapter Nine

“Right, well first things first you can take all that shit off.”

Galliar’s words were punctuated by a wave of the hand, gesturing towards Will’s armour and Items.

“I want to see what your Stats are, and how you use them. Tell me, how early in the first Floor did you come across an Item that boosted them?”

Shrugging, Will obliged. One-by-one he removed the Items that gave him bonuses, pulling them into his Spatial Storage Ring in the process. It was disorienting, and he actively felt weaker than he had in a good while.

“Fairly early. Is that a problem?”

Galliar laughed, a short harsh sound, and shook his head.

“In this place? Anything that keeps you alive for another Floor is good. Still, relying on Items to boost your Stats is a bad move. They can break, be taken from you, become redundant. You say you want to be a lynchpin? You want your species to rely on you? Then you need to be able to do it, not your Items.”

Mentioning other Floors without being prompted was unusual for a Denizen. Especially this low, many people would simply mistake them for slightly more advanced versions of the constructs used in Events like the Third Eye Trial. That belief was proven false in the first timeline, and he’d already made clear to his Clan members that they were to be treated as real people, but it was precisely because of the lack of information that most Denizens had (or shared) about the Tower that the mistake was made.

“Wait, you know how the Floors work? How the Tower works?”

Another shake of the head, no laugh this time.

“Some. Most of it useless to you, and little that I can share. For now, it should suffice that I am aware of the general principle. Not my speciality, not my interest. I’m the War Enhancer Class Trainer, so I’m only able to share information related to that.”

Damn, another person who knew the truth of the Tower would have been a useful asset. Still, it gave Will a flicker of hope – if Galliar was sufficiently powerful or worthy that he had more knowledge than most Denizens, that was a good indicator of the value he could offer overall.

“Back to the important thing. Put your hand on this.”

Galliar pulled a small glass orb from his pocket, the interior filled with a thick grey fog, and placed it on the table in front of Will. It rolled, just slightly, but Will darted his hand out to steady the orb. As soon as his skin made contact with the glass, the fog inside began to shift. It twisted, morphed, and changed colour, settling on a dark purple with flecks of green throughout.

“Huh. Better than expected. You’re not all Items and luck, it seems. Might not be a total waste of my time.”

Will removed his hand, and the orb returned to its original state.

“Right, next up, what are your Spells and Skills?”

Will ran through the list, making sure to identify which Spells and Skills he’d managed to upgrade. With each one, Galliar made a noise and wrote something in a small notebook he’d drawn from his pocket.

“Why Glacial Pace?”

“It was a reward from one of the Floor 3 Bosses, and I felt like I was lacking in offensive magical options.”

That got a reaction, as Galliar snorted and threw his hands into the air.

“Of course you were, you idiot, you’re an Enhancer not a Sorcerer! You know the difference between Skills and Spells? Not the fact that Spells use mana, that’s obvious and irrelevant. I mean the real difference?”

Will shook his head, curious.

“You have a maximum for Spells. Skills, you can just keep adding to your Sheet infinitely. You’ll probably end up not improving any of them thanks to the split focus, but you’re not limited. Spells, you are.”

That, Will did actually know. Even as a non-Caster, he’d been close enough with magic users to be aware of maximum Spell count. Still, from what he remembered, the limit was fairly decent if you kept your Mind Power high and you could purge old Spells to replace them. He mentioned this information, and was met with another snort.

“And do you know how you purge your old Spells? Do you know what your current limit is?”

He had to admit that the answer to both of those questions was “kinda”. He had a general idea of both from his memories, but neither was perfectly accurate.

“That’s what I thought. Your build is all over the place. For a start, your MP and MD should be your highest Stat by a good margin at this point. Let me guess, you’re the best of your party so you’ve been dealing the majority of the damage as well as buffing?”

“Yeah, that’s about right. I haven’t had majority contribution in anything for a while though, now they’ve all caught up.”

What followed was an hour of Will being berated for every choice and decision he’d made up to this point. Even when Galliar acknowledged he’d made the best choice available, he had some criticism to raise. It was quite uncomfortable, and made Will realise just how much he’d set himself apart from the others. Nobody was willing to raise criticisms of his build or his choices, since they all expected him to know better.

“You’re not totally worthless, at least. If I’ve got to train someone to be a War Enhancer, at least you know the basics of what is required. You still want it?”

“Absolutely.”

Galliar nodded. He stood from his chair, pocketing the little notebook and fixing Will with a stare.

“In that case, we’ll begin now.”

He waved one hand, and a small thread of golden light flickered from his hand to the wall of the cabin, where it grew and morphed into a circular portal.

“Once you’re in, you’re not out till you’re dead or finished. Last chance.”

He’d made all the necessary preparations. Briefly, he considered contacting Brunjar again, but decided against it. The man would be busy, and there was little new that Will could tell him anyway. Decision made, Will stepped forwards and let himself be sucked into the portal.

The first thing Will noticed upon stepping through was the noise. The second was the smell.

Smoke mixed with blood mixed with the scent of death and rot. Screamed orders, shouts of pain, explosions, and the clashing of blades filled his ears. He’d stepped out into the middle of a battlefield.

Galliar’s heavy palm landed on his shoulder as he stared at the chaos around him, and he looked up at the man.

“You didn’t think I was going to train you as a War Enhancer without a war?”

Before Will could reply, Galliar’s hand came up glowing the telltale gold, and he felt the sensation of being warped elsewhere. Suddenly, they weren’t stood in the centre of the battlefield, but instead behind one of the lines of soldiers. He glanced around, and realised that everyone in the area had the same features as Galliar, unlike their enemies who appeared vaguely insectoid from what Will had been able to make out.

“War Enhancer Foredell! You’re back! Is this your newest recruit?”

The speaker was a woman, even taller and broader than Galliar himself. She was only identifiable as a woman by the long flowing hair and marginally higher-pitched voice, given the heavy armour that covered her body. She looked at Will, and her expression was one of calm analysis, giving him the sensation of being scanned.

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“Yes Karia, he is. I’ll be taking him to get equipped, and then moving to the front lines. Where needs reinforcement?”

The woman didn’t move her gaze from Will as she spoke.

“Eastern flank. The Mantids are pressuring us to try and reach the wounded. Vultures.”

Real passion made its way into the calm voice at the last words, and from context it wasn’t hard to see why. Whatever battle he’d been transported into, the enemy were clearly not following the usual rules of war.

“Scum. We’ll go there first.”

With that, Galliar pulled Will along and they departed. A few steps away from the woman named Karia, he spoke.

“She’s fake. They all are. Don’t let that make you work less hard, though. They may not be my real allies, but they’re a good fascimile and I don’t appreciate seeing them hurt. And no, I can’t give you more details than that.”

Will didn’t really have a reply to that, so he contented himself with nodding and keeping his head on a swivel. All around were members of Galliar’s race in various different combinations of armour and weapons hurrying about. In the distance, he could see a line of robed fighters sending huge bursts of magical energy into the air like mortars.

“Grab a set of gear. You’re going in at the deep end.”

Galliar had stopped walking, and Will almost bumped into him in distraction. Hurriedly, he backed up and nodded at the man. Ahead of them was a small tent filled with trunks and chests, so Will quickly moved inside and began opening the boxes.

“One sword, by the way. Dual wielding isn’t bad, but you’re not here to become a Swords Dancer.”

Obliging, Will drew out a standard set of medium armour from one chest, and a simple cavalry sabre styled sword from another. The armour was plain, constructed of simple panels of steel and what looked to be some form of bone or horn. When he focused, neither provided the typical description of Tower Items, and so he voiced his question instead.

“Do these have any effects?”

“How important do you think you are? You’re on a battlefield of thousands. No, it’s just good quality armour and a sword with an anti-bluntness enchantment.”

The reminder of the battlefield hit Will again as he finished donning the armour and rejoined Galliar outside of the tent. He’d recognised the smells when he first arrived, but hadn’t had long enough to make the connection to why. As Galliar looked him over and then began striding again, forcing Will to hurry to keep up, he sank into a memory.

“Shit! Need a potion!”

John’s voice cracked as he screamed, the words forming slightly wrong as they left his heavily bruised mouth.

“All out! I’ll ping a healer!”

Sam’s voice was more calm, but still held the unmistakeable shake of fear and panic. Briefly, Will wondered what was wrong, and he tried to ask.

“Hey, no, no movement!”

All at once, Will realised he was laid on the floor with his armour removed, and John was sat beside him. As soon as that hit, it was joined by a wave of pain running across his torso and he looked down to see himself split open from hip to collarbone.

Feebly, he turned his head and felt vomit force itself from his throat, as confusion and pain attacked his mind.

“You’ll be okay mate, you’re a tank for a reason!”

John wiped Will’s mouth with a cloth and kept a steadying hand on his shoulder, a note of begging in the usually confident man’s voice. Will hurt, his whole body felt as though it was on fire, and though he was coming back to himself enough to realise what was happening, he couldn’t remember how.

“Wha-”

“Shhh. We’re winning, and there’s a healer on their way to you now. You’re okay.”

Will noted, through blurred vision, a tear running down John’s face. A memory flashed, and he saw the oncoming form of a huge troll wielding a greatsword, saw his shield on the floor out of reach. This spurred his memory, and he groaned as the reality sank in.

Floor 32 was the first time the Companions had been brought to the front lines of the Clear. He’d been protecting them as they fought through a Miniboss wave to secure one of the Exit Temples, when the trolls had burst in.

“Wait, Ant?”

The last thing he remembered was having his shield knocked from his grip as he dashed to try and protect the swordsman. His question provoked another few tears, as John silently shook his head.

The agonising pain in his torso was nothing, as Will internalised the knowledge. He was closest with John, of course, but all of the Companions had become something more than friends in the years they’d been Climbing. They’d had close calls before, but never a death.

“Healer incoming!”

Will closed his eyes and let his head loll back. He’d failed. He was supposed to be a Knight, a tank who protected his team, and he’d let one die. Even as he felt the effect of a healing Spell sink into himself, felt his torso begin to knit itself together and repair, he continued to hurt.

The memory ended as suddenly as it had come, and Will quickly snapped his head around to refamiliarise himself with the surroundings. The first true battle he’d participated in was the first time he’d been present for mass death, the first time he’d taken up responsibility for protecting and guiding, and the first time he’d failed. It was no wonder that arriving on a battlefield had provoked the recollection.

“Focus. I’m not going to ask what you were remembering, but I am going to insist that you be present. You want to be a War Enhancer, you need to be constantly aware of everyone on your side. That can’t work if you’re distracted.”

Galliar’s words were surprisingly soft, and Will wasn’t sure how to interpret the change. He shook his head, trying to physically force the thoughts away, and then nodded firmly.

“I’m good.”

Ant was alive. He was alive, and not even in the Tower yet. Will couldn’t let the past break his second chance, couldn’t let the guilt prevent him from being the most effective leader he could be. As Galliar continued to lead him through the war camp towards where the battle was taking place, Will started trying to evaluate the fighters he could see.

“I’ll drop you with the Eastern Flank Defenders. When you arrive, you need to call out so they know you’re there, and then start buffing. I’m not giving you any more guidance than that, so it’s up to you to decide what Spells and who to target. The Mantids will be attacking for the next few hours, and once they’ve either retreated or broken through I’ll bring you back.”

Not the exact way he’d expected to be trained, but then Will hadn’t had much of an idea what to expect. He’d used a Class Guide, the far more common way of obtaining an Elite Class, before. All he really knew about Trainers was that they were unique and often had access to rarer and more powerful options.

“By the way, you can’t die permanently in here, but I’m not going to be healing any wounds you sustain, and if your death costs the flank their fight, you can forget about the Class.”

He didn’t even have a chance to reply before he felt the yank and his surroundings changed.