Amaxian Riven stood in front the building where he’d made his camp, in the slice of this alien city that was supposed to be his, and couldn’t believe what he was seeing.
These bastard children from this bastard planet were fighting back!
Two humans had simply run straight up to his base as though he wasn’t a threat to them at all. It was disrespectful.
I didn’t de-level myself to be treated in such a way!
He would deal death to them as swiftly as he ever had.
They can’t really be from this baby planet, can they? Not the dark-robed one, at least.
This new world was supposed to be the opportunity of the century for him and his makeshift crew. They’d been bouncing around the sector, doing crappy little jobs and fruitless missions, just trying to get by—trying to get stronger—for far too long.
And he’d spent his last coin on getting coordinates for this place, not to mention on that de-level spell that had been cast on him.
He’d sent men off to fight the dark-haired brat with the daggers. Heard screams.
The screams of his crew.
That’s not possible.
Amaxian’s eyes widened. A bead of sweat formed on his forehead, dripping down into his left eye and making him blink.
He growled, low and deep. He’d thought the Denizen before him was the one he’d needed to worry about. The one who’d not only blocked his communications, but was currently blocking his own aura from being detected. That was something Amaxian had been capable of before he’d de-levelled himself and lost the skill. Now, he felt like a child in his use of Spirit Energy. It leaked out of him like his core had been punched through with a dozen holes.
“Mother always said if you want something done right, you have to do it yourself!”
He’d sent the other half of his crew—not including those still in the building—after the second human. The dark-robed one.
It was time to go after the first himself. Not a single member of his crew was stronger than him. He wouldn’t have it any other way. Strong crew members made for a defiant lot. Made them think they had the right to think for themselves. Made for the possibility of mutiny. He couldn’t afford his people being anywhere near strong enough to defeat him if they decided they no longer wanted to take his orders.
Amaxian summoned his weapon to his hand. A harpoon. The hook-like blade was something he was rather fond of. He liked digging his hooks into people. Ripping them toward him so he could dig his fangs into them too.
For a long time he’d despised his orc heritage giving him these primal instincts—especially with the way his father treated him because of them—but when he’d embraced them… well, that’s when he’d truly found his lot in life.
The dark-haired dagger-wielding human had an intense look of concentration on his face mixed with a passionate look of glee that made even Amaxian feel unsettled. Amaxian’s men came in, struck him with their weapons—only… they couldn’t.
The bastard human could phase shift! He was slipping through their attacks, dematerialising as each one came.
Only his blades didn’t appear to dematerialise with him. One dagger slashed through a neck, another stabbed through a gut, and this human moved so fast it was like he had more than two arms and two weapons—it was like he had a blasted dozen!
Twenty of Amaxian’s men lay dead on the ground about the dagger-wielder, who’d been covered in blood before the fight had even started.
Now he was positively drenched in red.
Amaxian felt something he hadn’t in a while—fear.
He’d been striding toward his enemy, gripping his harpoon tightly, ready to throw the thing at this bastard human, but now he didn’t think the harpoon would even land.
He can’t phase forever—there must be a limit to his spell.
But Amaxian wasn’t the one who was going to find it.
“Kill the bastard!” Amaxian shouted in his most commanding voice. In his anger, the pitch of his voice became even higher, something he’d always despised about the way he sounded, and something he’d never been able to change. He wished he could have gotten his mother’s deep, booming, growly voice instead of this piss-poor excuse.
He gave the order to his crew still in the building to launch attacks down at the dagger-wielder. There were enough windows in the metal and glass structure that they could fire down easily enough. he’d left the majority of his ranged fighters inside, where they were safe from melee attacks, as the two Denizens that had approached looked as though they were close-range fighters.
Not that I suspected they would be any real danger.
He was full-on fear sweating now.
I’ll go after the easy prey then. The man in the dark robes. He might have a few fancy items, but that doesn’t mean he can fight.
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As he turned and faced the dark robed man, he froze. Why weren’t his people attacking him? And what the hell was this purple mist permeating the air?
He blinked.
Oh, no…
The purple mist reached him. He tried to flee, but he wasn’t fast enough—it seeped through his very skin, got into his nostrils, into his mouth, his eyes and ears, and other places his father wouldn’t think it proper to mention.
Amaxian’s body was no longer under his own will.
~
Alistair Reed sliced through the elves with practised ease and ferocity. He felt immense glee each time one of his daggers sunk through their skin and drew blood.
There was something pure, something divine, in death. Not in his death, mind, but in the deaths of others—especially when he was the cause.
And the System never failed to reward him for his efforts. It was a beautiful thing, he had come to believe. A mechanism of the universe that allowed him to come out of hiding and show his true colours to the world. Not only that, but realise his full potential.
His daggers bled black, dark energy seeping from them, licking the air.
As fun as killing these alien elves was, there was something strange happening here…
He wasn’t the only human fighting the elves.
A dark robed man, who looked far too casual and calm for the situation, had jogged—not ran—toward the building at the same time as him.
Alistair had glanced, several times, in the man’s direction, expecting him to be lying dead on the ground. He hadn’t even bothered scanning the dark-robed man, fully expecting him to die in mere moments.
Considering the man’s actions, and his blatant disregard for this own safety, he wasn’t long for this world—Alistair Reed couldn’t fathom there being another person on Earth who was as strong and capable as himself, whether Earth was their home world or they were an invader from another planet.
No force had been stronger than him—the System had ensured his superiority because it knew that he deserved to be the best.
Except this man hadn’t died. He hadn’t even fought—nor had he been attacked. The elves that had gone for him simply… stood around him.
Even their leader, some bestial looking thing with a weirdly high-pitched voice, hadn’t attacked the dark-robed man.
Interesting. Could this man pose a challenge to me?
It got Alistair thinking. So far, since the System had come, he’d done nothing more than ravage the enemy—and the enemy was anyone who wasn’t himself. He’d destroyed more than one tutorial along the way.
But should he be making allies in this new reality? Part of him wondered if there would be any point. Why did he need an ally if he was strong enough to take down any threat he encountered?
Then again, this alien threat, these invaders that were coming to Earth, well… something told him they were turning up all over the entire planet, and though Alistair was confident in his abilities, he had never considered himself to be arrogant or unrealistic.
There was a slight possibility that he wouldn’t be able to clear them from the face of the Earth all by himself.
Besides, it could be difficult to rule over a planet, or make it his very own playground, if every single person on that planet was dead.
And though the System had let him live up to his full potential and show his true colours, he happened to like hiding in plain sight. There was a certain thrill, being a wolf in sheep’s clothing.
There was also the small matter of the new Base Leader the System had announced. Someone on this planet was ahead of him in the game.
He would need to fix that.
~
Xavier watched the dark-haired dagger-wielder with interest. The man knew how to move, that was for sure. And he had some sort of ability that let him dematerialise, just like Xavier’s Otherworld Phase, the imbued ability his Anointed Robes of the Umbral held. Though as this man’s phase ability was clearly a spell, it was more powerful.
Xavier tilted his head to the side.
This guy isn’t from another planet, is he? I don’t see why he would come all the way to Earth just to fight other invaders?
The dark-haired man fought well. Better, even, than Justin or Howard, Xavier had to admit. He wasn’t phasing the entire time, though it might appear that way to an unskilled observer—he was simply anticipating his enemies’ attacks, and phasing only when necessary.
His blades always remain as solid matter, that certainly comes in handy.
There was still something strange about him. Something in the way he looked, that Xavier didn’t like, but maybe it was simply that someone like this hadn’t been expected.
When the elves had come after him, Xavier had used his Willpower Infusion spell to take control of them. He could have wiped them out, but he still didn’t know if any of the auras inside were of human captives—he’d rather have some more leverage.
He’d kill them soon enough.
Attacks came down from the windows. Xavier thought about stopping them. Thought about protecting the dark-haired man. But honestly, it didn’t look as though the man needed his protection—he was perfectly able to defend against the attacks alone.
The elves loosing arrows, crossbow bolts, and a myriad of different spells paused their onslaught when they realised it was doing no damage, and that their leader was currently frozen, unable to give them commands, surely made them worry all the more.
They turned and fled from the windows. He didn’t need his new viewing glass to know they were heading for the portal.
I can’t have that.
Xavier was about to make his way into the building when the dark-haired man teleported into it.
Xavier blinked. He hadn’t expected the man to have such a movement spell. The man flashed away, slipping into a patch of darkness, then stepping out of a shadow up inside the building.
The auras Xavier could sense within began to be snuffed out one by one.
Xavier frowned. Does this mean I won’t get credit for the quest? And what if there are slaves—hostages—up there?
He sighed and made those he was controlling dispose of one another. All except for their leader, the half-elf, half-orc man. Xavier sliced off the man’s head with Charon’s Scythe and Soul Stepped into the building, holding the severed head by the hair.
That… might not make the best first impression.
He deposited the head into his Storage Ring and walked through the building full of dead invaders.
Their wounds were dark, rotted, as though the daggers the man wielded were toxic. He’d seen them seep some sort of dark energy—Xavier wasn’t sure he’d encountered anything like it before.
All he came upon were dead elves. No humans. No slaves or hostages. That made him sigh in relief.
He found that he was heading toward the portal, following the trail of dead. There were only a few auras left. He wouldn’t need to intervene. At this rate, none of them had a chance at making it back through their portal.
When he did make it to the portal, Xavier found the dark-haired man standing over the corpses of their mutual enemies. The man had a look of intense glee on his face, which was covered in blood. The gleeful look disappeared as he noticed Xavier’s presence.
“Are you from Earth?” the man asked.
Xavier raised his chin. “I am.”
The dark-haired man nodded. “Good. So am I.” He turned and faced Xavier. He didn’t look so psycho-happy, now. There was a warm, genuine-looking smile adorning his face instead. “You look like you can handle yourself.”
Xavier smirked at the understatement. “So do you.”
“My name is Alistair Reed.” He stepped forward. His daggers were no longer in his hands—several Storage Rings glinted on his bloody fingers. “Perhaps we can work together.”