That night, Knell stopped at the base of a large tree to rest. He took the Boon out and examined the small orb. It looked like little more than a normal stone. It was hard to believe that it contained the flesh of a god – or at least, a tiny piece of one.

Whatever Shard of Holen that had given Lillicent her magic had been stingy. The orb was miniscule and barely had any magic in it at all, which meant it offered little potential for growth. There was no point taking its abilities directly. Still, it was useful.

Knell’s fingers ran across the smooth surface of the marble. A faint heat emanated from it. A part of him wanted to save it for the future, but he didn’t yet have the strength to justify carrying around a Boon without using it.

This was the first time he’d held one of the priceless objects, and it irked Knell more than he was willing to voice that it had been gifted to him by Mordrigal. He pressed his lips together and tightened his fingers around the orb.

It shattered, sending green energy coursing out and into his skin. A prickling sensation washed up his arm and into his chest and he let out a slow breath.

The gods have granted you experience for absorbing a Boon. You have leveled up.

A Shard of Holen looks upon you with hatred. Your slight against him will not go unpunished.

Knell Coda [Age: 0]

Scion [Rank Zero]

Magical Energy Level: 9

Attunement A: Foresight of the Vulture

Attunement B: Empty

Attunement C: Empty

Attunement D: Empty

Attunement E: Empty

Bloodline: Eternal Body [Epic]– Time magic bends around you, modifying your lifespan and granting you resistance to spatial magics.

His Epoch Path had not changed in the slightest. That settled things, then. The only way to get levels in the other Path was through combat. Still, even the reward for Scion had been less than fantastic.

“That’s it?” Knell muttered, pressing his lips together in disappointment. “That Boon must have been seriously pathetic. No matter. There are more ways to gain power. And, Holen, find someone to back your threats up so I can take their Boon as well.”

***

Wind nipped at Knell’s ears as he strode through the front gate of Chrisford. The click of his staff on the cobble streets punctuated his passing and drew a few curious stares from orphans hiding in the shadowed alleys.

It had been three days since he’d taken the Boon from Lillicent, and his muscles were weary from travel. Dusk had fallen, and he didn’t even want to think about what he smelled like. Still, Mordrigal had done him quite the favor.

The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

Killing the gods was not a task one could do on their own. He needed a crew, and there was only one man he already had in mind. Unfortunately, that particular man was off somewhere in the middle of the ocean. More fortunately, there was no shortage of boats in Chrisford.

The scent of cinnamon and honey drifted into his nostrils, stopping him flat in his path. A large inn looming over the main road called to him, its door open invitingly. Knell’s hand lowered to the small coin pouch at his hip, and he considered the building for a few moments before heading through the door.

A crackling firepit at the center of the inn lit it with merry light and made shadows dance along the walls. Smoke curled up through the building, traveling through an opening on the second floor and disappearing through a chimney hole in the roof.

“Welcome to the Obese Pig!” a chipper waitress said, sliding up to him. If she was perturbed by his appearance, she didn’t say anything. “Would you like a table?”

“Depends on what you’re serving.”

“Honeybread and Orcish stew,” the waitress said. “It’s our specialty. I haven’t met a man who hasn’t liked it.”

“I’ve always loved a challenge,” Knell replied. “A table sounds fantastic.”

She brought him over to a small wooden table near the fireplace. Knell braced himself on his staff as he lowered into the chair. Once he was seated, he placed the staff across the table and let out a small sigh.

The waitress darted off to get his order. Knell took the opportunity to examine his fellow diners. Chrisford was a common gathering place for adventurers, and the Obese Pig was no exception.

Battle hardened men and women filled the tavern, talking in loud, boastful tones. Laughter and angry mutters mixed together in a strange cacophony that assaulted Knell’s ears. This was as good a place as any to begin building his team. More than a few people sat alone and were likely in search of a group, but that wasn’t enough.

Putting a team together was easy. Putting a capable team together was not. Knell leaned back in his chair and observed his fellow taverngoers to see if any were of interest. A couple got into an argument a few tables across from him, growing steadily louder with every passing second.

It was chaotic, but it was also the first time Knell had been completely alone in some time. He’d spent the previous nineteen years of his life training, even if his only companions during the last two were Mordrigal’s apparitions and the Scions doing her will.

I wonder how many other people are sitting around, planning on ways to kill the goddess of death.

A tiny grin crossed his lips. Those were the thoughts of a fool. Even though the gods had been shattered in a massive war years ago, they were still gods. One hadn’t died in recorded history.

But that doesn’t mean they can’t die. I’m close, Knell. Soon, this plague will be no more.

Those were some of the last words Rynholt had told Knell. The next day, both of his parents were dead. His father had been searching for a way to kill the gods for years, and the day after he discovered something, Modrigal had as good as killed him. Knell didn’t know how long he’d spent trying to figure out what his father had learned, but Mordrigal had covered her tracks well and he couldn’t risk showing her his hand too early.

Knell was pulled from his thoughts as he caught something off about the interactions in the tavern around him. A small figure in a ratty cloak watched the couple arguing near him, pale green eyes shimmering in the firelight. A bulging coin pouch rested at her waist. Behind the figure, a large, armored man with a jagged sword strapped to his back leaned against the wall. He was watching both the couple and the lone person like a hawk.

The corner of Knell’s mouth turned down. His meal was about to get interrupted, and it hadn’t even started yet. The waitress emerged from the kitchen bearing a plate with a plump bread roll glistening with honey and a large bowl of soup.

She headed towards him. Her path set her to pass between the arguing couple and the small figure in the cloak. The man in the argument missed a beat as the waitress grew closer. Knell’s eyes narrowed.

Grabbing his staff from the table, Knell pushed himself upright and stepped toward the waitress. His eyes lit yellow and he stepped forward, his staff whipping out. The woman stopped arguing with her lover and thrust her chair back, right into the waitress’s path. Behind the hooded figure, the armored man pushed away from the wall.

The waitress yelped, stumbling and dropping the tray. Knell’s staff caught the plate before it could fall, and he quickly maneuvered to grab it with his free hand before everything went crashing to the ground. The armored man swore under his breath and turned away, heading toward the bar.