Eric felt an odd mixture of anxiety and relief as he approached the desolate farm instinctively avoided by desperate settlers, hunters seeking shelter, or the low level beasts that inhabited the nearby forest and the waist-high grasslands stretching for miles in all directions.
He tried to smile with relief before his cheeks froze, momentarily horrified by what he would feel. Because all it had taken was a few minutes’ quiet jog, away from the manic frenzy of battle, for his thoughts to wander to simpler times, gentler times… more human times.
Times when he hadn’t been filled with such dark, manic glee that he was able to tear a hole through power armor.
With his fucking teeth.
He shuddered in memory of the slaver gazing at him with wide, horrified eyes that reflected so much Eric hadn’t wanted to see. So how had he handled a glimpse of a smile stretching far, far wider than his head should allow without marring his features in the least? A twisted reflection of his own inner demon he was loath to see…
He handled it by biting the man’s head clean off.
And where the hell it went… he’d love to say he didn’t know, but his happily humming potency reserves made it damn clear where his prey had gone. And not just the experience pool.
Eric was aware that he had stopped ,and everything had gone dark. Which really wasn’t surprising, since he was presently squeezing his eyes shut, fists clenched tight as he trembled in the grass.
“I’m not a monster. I’m not! I’m not!”
Echoing the words of a little boy curled in bed, whispering the words so softly so the real monster wouldn’t hear him… would think him a good little boy.
An obedient son.
Not someone she needed to decapitate and devour like the reporter who had crossed her.
And it was this night, of all nights, that flickers of dark bitter memories were trickling in his awareness that he had blocked away with a gamer’s obsession the same way his sister once had with either acting or drugs. More of the former than the latter as she got older and healthier… but it was all the same.
Because he and Elonia were twins, and for the longest time, they had done everything together.
Played together. Ate together. Snuck out and explored the city together.
And when accusatory shouts had turned to a panicked cry and desperate screams… before choking off with a bloody gurgle, they had investigated together.
Gazing at their mother with such a wild look in her eyes.
Together.
Neither had wondered at the source of their mother’s mad fury. It was plane as the headless corpse collapsing in their mother’s arms.
Her cold dead eyes pinned them for long moments, but there were no words.
Not when she was so busy consuming her prey.
Devouring the remainder with her mouth and throat stretched so hideously wide. Like a giant snake.
Yet somehow it was geometry that was twisted and warped, not her exquisitely perfect features at all. Her silk nightdress still fit her perfectly, the fabric not stretched an inch. It was as if space itself was squeezing and compressing the headless reporter down Aurelia’s engorged throat.
Then he was no more.
There would be no hue and cry. No outraged boss, declaring foul play. No hard-eyed detectives demanding answers.
Because as of that moment, the pitiful reporter had never existed at all.
The cords of his fate snipped free of all others.
And how horrifying it as to sense that truth as a little boy, the terrible price of crossing a dark faerie queen, long before Earth had ever ascended.
Elonia had collapsed in Eric’s trembling arms.
He had just stared and stared for long moments as the hideous incarnation of dark appetites and Euclidean madness became his mother as easily as dabbing her once more soft, delicate, rosebud lips with a handkerchief after licking the last of the blood away with a forked tongue… because OF COURSE it was forked!
And then it wasn’t.
It was just his mother giving him a tired look.
“Put your sister to bed, dear.”
“Yes, Mother.”
Eric took a shuddering breath, visualizing a searing flame. The essence of his soul. Burning away all horror, all regret, all memory of a dozen worlds frozen to ice and fire.
Burning it all away.
Until there was only Eric embracing this very moment.
The flames of the past were now cold and dead ashes from which there was no going back.
Only forward.
A city so save.
A puppeteering monster to slay.
And he would damn well go through the trap door in the back of the decrepit cabin he had forced himself to enter, and he would face whatever needed facing.
Do whatever needed doing.
Because he could do absolutely nothing about the tragedies and horrors spanning an entire sector that had been unleashed this endless night. Nothing, save work to save his friends, right here and now. So that when he finally woke up with the actual dawn, he would have a community worth fighting for.
No matter how bad this nightmare of a night might be… at least it would be over with the crack of dawn.
But should he run away like a sad-ass coward having a breakdown because he tore a hole in a single fucking suit of power armor… then he’d be fleeing all the friends he could have had, leaving only corpses behind.
“The hell I’ll let it come to that!” He bellowed, blinking back the tears in his eyes as he glared at his own fist, covered once more with transcendent higher order concepts of Flame that burned so strangely. So hypnotically. Every crackle and flare simultaneously the epitome of creation and absolute destruction. It was a revelation he now absolutely refused to show his enemies… daring so only on this warded farm. Insane strength and the magic his foes already knew he had would be all he would reveal to whatever seers and abominations were so eagerly focused on Freetown.
At least, that was his intention for now. He’d hold off on revealing pristine revelations until the final act unfolded this endless night.
And still… he was standing here like a coward, glaring at the trap door entrance he had revealed with a single flip of the threadbare rug covering it.
“No fucking willpower check is being failed now, Eric. Not after all the fucking SHIT we went through and survived. Not after giving up EVERYTHING! All the glory of a Gold. At nineteen fucking years old.” He shook his head, discordant laughter echoing through the night. “I didn’t do it just for the sake of an ideal. The pristine preservation of a world I know and love. I did it just as much for my sister and a city full of friends. So get the FUCK into that tunnel, Eric Silver, and do whatever the hell needs doing!”
Hesitating no longer, he jumped through the hatch that unlocked with a touch of his blood magic, pausing only long to close the gate before racing along the pitch black corridor that glowed a myriad shades of cool soothing blue to his infravision, his existential dread replaced by terror of a different sort.
Because if the message Grim had just sent him in a desperate flash as Eric made his presence known was anything to go by… his friends were in desperate peril.
So he quit holding back, racing down the corridor so fast the tiles cracked under his feet even with Speed Racer allowing him to manipulate inertia and wind resistance so damned well.
Counting down the seconds in his head as he weaved and darted along a corridor far longer than he remembered, feeling a heartbeat’s relief when he saw the steel grate, already open.
His heart was pounding in his chest when he girded himself and stepped into the lich’s sanctum sanctorum, and the home of his friends.
Thee was no one to welcome him. Just the sound of panicked screams as Eric raced up the cellar steps, darting through rooms that looked like they had come out of a french nobleman’s boudoir before bursting into the central hallway to be met by panicked, exhausted looking men and women dressed in either street clothes or robes, darting through the halls for all they were worth.
“The manor’s under attack! Get to the warded rooms! Morlekai’s orders!” Hollered one harried looking middle-aged man, leading a handful of frightened teenagers and older students behind him. His eyes widened upon catching sight of Eric. “I don’t recognize you. Who’s your master, boy?” Before shaking his head. “It doesn’t matter, you have to co—”
“Lord Grim, where is he? Now!” Eric snapped, allowing a bit of his desperate intensity to show through.
The man blanched and stumbled back, several students now flinching before his gaze.
“Grim, Morlekai, Alice, Drake… someone!”
But the group, much to Eric’s dismay, seemed frozen by indecision and fear.
“Fuck!” Eric cursed, refusing to waste more than a heartbeat with these confused mortals and instead racing along the corridor, darting past an ever growing press of panicked people now crowding the hallway… and when had Lord Grim and Morlekai taken on this many students, or were they sheltering refugees as well? A stray thought that meant nothing as he heard Alice’s desperate cry. And Louie’s as well.
“Alice! Hold on, babe!”
“I can’t Louie! The fuckers’ going to break in. Where’s my brother?”
The air rang with awful laughter as Eric quit fucking around and simply launched himself through the nearest window, now racing through rose bushes and tulip beds for the front gate where he heard his friend’s desperate cries, and the cold tittering laughter that mirrored so well the goddamned puppetmaster who had been controlling both Bronze mercs and a score of orcs by the front entrance.
“Alice!”
Eric’s eyes widened, gut twisting with anxious dread when he saw Alice crumple into a stoic-looking Grim’s arms in slow motion, the brilliant ruby sparkle of the blood wards on the gate fading before Eric’s eyes.
Eric immediately sensed that had the only thing keeping the hideous abomination of a teenager whose neck sprouted a dozen whipping tentacles covered in wildly blinking eyes at bay. Now he was cackling like madman, stepping forward lashing out at the steel gate just seconds away from crumpling as the monster flashed a terrible cold smile.
“And here’s where it ends, fuckers. The last resistance in all of Freetown. But I’m not unreasonable, hell no! You guys put up a damned good fight, and your reward will be… serving as my BLOOD PUPPETS as I make you fuckers kill each other for my fucking amusement for being such pains in my ass!”
“Grim! Give me full access!” Eric screamed so fast that no mortal should have understood him.
Yet so fast it gave Eric chills even as he raced across the yard as bullet train speeds, because he heard the crack of dry bone, a top hat and frock coat wearing Grim turned his neck to meet Eric’s desperate gaze. Nodding just one.
“My House now serves at your pleasure, Your Grace.”
Eric didn’t waste time arguing with the extremely powerful lich at the speed of thought. Nor did he bother wondering why Grim himself wasn’t strengthening the crimson ward he could sense about to fail and let the fucking abomination of a contender through. Because the powerfully built Moor was, in fact, a lich. Which meant, lifelike as he was, as incredibly powerful a Necromancer as he might be, Bloodmagic, the art of the living, was no longer within his purview.
The wild-eyed psychopath whipping the gates with his tendrils began to cackle as the steel hissed and smoked.
“Finally, Finally! The nicest pad in the city will be mine, and I’ll pick your souls clean of every last dirty little secret you thought you could keep from me, you fucking—”
The air erupted in streaks of white-hot plasma fire blazing through the night.
The youth’s eyes widened with dismay then painful screams as multiple blinking-eyed octopedian tendrils were short free of his throat, leaving stubs spurting blood.
He stumbled back in wide-eyed panic, as if only at that moment thinking that maybe, just possibly, things wouldn’t go according to plan.
“Pawns! Assist me now!” The panicked youth screamed, stumbling back as a full quartet of power armored sentinels stumbled burst through the gate, before being lifted off their feet.
“Hell Vines!” Eric roared.
Even as a cool-eyed Grim calmly strode back, effortlessly carrying an exhausted and very pregnant Alice with a wild eyed Louie keeping cover with bardiche in hand, Eric was darting past the thick fiery trunks before the mercenaries could turn or register him, all his focus on the one target that mattered.
The wild-eyed youth who had just imperiled his closest friends.
“Eric, be careful! That boy and the puppet-master he spawned from only needs to touch you to master you.”
Those words from Grim froze him still, the boy’s panicked retreat turning to a contemptuous smirk, as if he could read the fear in Eric’s eyes.
Not fear. I sure as heck am not afraid of that asshole!
Yet as idiotic as it might seem when Quickness gave him such an edge, demanding he seize the initiative as he darted into the cobblestone street, just feet away from the furious looking youth growing back fresh alien eldritch tendrils at an insane pace, Eric still paused long enough to summon forth his blood it the tiniest of cuts.
Arcane Perception check made!
Synergized Runic Lore & Bloodmastery skill check: Critical success! You have successfully covered yourself in runes of your own blood!
Your experience pool has dipped 2%.
You have successfully infused your blood runes with the power of Wrath and Dominion.
Blood Ward is now Rank 3!
Eric recalled all too well what had happened the last time he had tried to claim his kill.
“You think cutting yourself will stop me, motherfucker?” The boy roared as a fresh tendril erupted from his neck. “You’ll pay for that, asshole! But first, how about my men kill your friends? And when I’m done with you, you’ll be watching and clapping for my fucking amusement!”
And much to Eric’s dismay, his gambit had failed. In the split second he had while preparing himself as such a blatant threat to this would be puppetmaster, all enemy fire should have been focused on him. He would have only shown his foes how fast he truly was, when he had successfully pulled their gazes his way.
Yet it was suddenly painfully clear that this hothead was a vindictive little shit more interested in punishing those he clearly despised than assuring his own safety. If the sudden fresh screams and concentrated blaster fire were anything to go by, the mercenaries were either acting entirely of their own volition, or this asshole could control his pawns even from a distance, even with those eldritch tentacles cut off, without any crimson strands that Eric could see at all.
“Alice!”
The youth’s face lit up with vindictive glee at the panic in Louie’s voice.
Before spite-filled features erupted into flame.
FIRE FIST!
20 out of 4760 Qi spent!
You have critically struck your target with Power Strike (Further modified by Unarmed Combat skill & Cultivation Rank) for 9X times baseline damage!
FATALITY!
You have OBLITERATED an opposing Contender in martial combat!
You have claimed 5% of your opponent’s favored Stats!
Vitality has increased 5 points!
Quickness has increased by 5 points!
Soul Reserves have increased by 10 points!
Arcane Potential has increased by 10 points!
You have gained 1 level in your primary class!
Note! You attacked your opponent with both high-end magitech weaponry and your fists. You have NOT earned any cultivator levels with this battle!
“Alice!” Eric paid no mind to the messages blinking across his interface. He twisted back around and spotted the power armored monster who had placed himself some distance away from the entrance was now in a sniper’s nest coldly obliterating Eric’s hell vines with his Mark IV mini plasma gun and just a second away from mowing down a desperately sobbing Alice whose feet now ended in bloody stumps. Because clearly, even with his bulwark, at least some of his foe’s perks had allowed their plasma fire to go right through.
“FRAGOR!” Eric roared, no longer holding back. Not daring to hold back. There was no way he could go chasing after the sniper while the blaster-holding mercenaries were a split second from breaking through.
Just as their clever, ruthless, and Bronze tier enemies had intended.
They weren’t fools, and Eric was about to pay a very bitter price indeed for crossing their master.
The only good news was that the man’s deliberate distance mean that his psionic shout wouldn’t be exploding the heads of anyone in the manor. Or so he hoped. Regardless, if he didn’t make a hell of a lot of things happen RIGHT NOW! Alice, Louie, and their unborn child would be dead.
His psionic shout, much to his relief, made his opponent stumble. Before the Bronze shook it off and aimed once more.
Sublime dread and terror transformed to desperate panic so hot and potent, even as he tripped over a surprise threat, costing him a precious split second.
He would never resolve all the threats in time.
So he did the only thing he could in no time at all.
Infusing what he would forever think of as his Titan Shout with all the desperate fury at his disposal.
He would see his foes dead, no matter the cost.
“FRAGOR”
It was a word that echoed oddly through both the physical and etherial realms. Eric felt the strength leave his legs as the essence of his Wrath was carried in ways his Sylvan brain was not meant to handle but somehow he FORCED it to handle. Channeling what was now a higher order attack as he force-evolved a power word with nothing more than grit, fury, and the sheer determination to MAKE it happen.
Willpower check made!
Desperation in the Crucible of battle has allowed you to FORCE EVOLVE a skill no Elf should have access to!
Fragor is now Rank 9!
The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.
You may now Channel the Essence of Wrath with this Psionic Attack!
NOTE! You have permanently altered the nature of this spell!
It is now ONE with your Wrath!
You will now suffer a backlash every time you use this attack with your puny half-elf mind!
Fragor now costs you *(21 mana / 21 Qi / 3 Psions / 42 Soul Reserve (21 with Blood Orb in play) and 42 Health!)
Note! Health cost increases by *42 every time you use it without at least 1 hours rest!
*Golden Phoenix reduces the cost and enhances the potency of ALL attacks you infuse with your essence! - Present cost is 70% of baseline – Present damage boost is 138% multiplicative of all other modifiers!
You have critically struck Rank 4 Bronze Mercenary.
Rank 4 Bronze Mercenary has expired.
You have gained 1 additional level!
The mercenary positioned out of Eric’s range and behind cover, clearly sniper-trained and so very determined to gun down a pregnant woman stiffened as collapsed with a crash as the head, steel helm and all, exploded with enough force to send shrapnel through the brick wall he had braced himself against. Fortunately, the very distance that had made it hard to instantaneously take out this mercenary, unlike the ones rushing the entrance, kept the backlash from utterly obliterating his friends. It also pulled the attention of multiple mercenaries wielding hardware that would have shredded everyone inside the manor to paste, had Eric not claimed their full attention with the death of their friend in what was, for them, the blink of an eye. And their change in focus gave him the desperate second he needed to scream the words that would save his friends, even as he reeled from a single mistake that could cost him absolutely everything.
“Hell Vines! Hell Vines! Hell Vines!”
Because the Contender he had faced might have been dead, which even his interface declared as true, as did the surge of potency flooding his soul… but the tendrils attached to his neck were the farthest thing from expired.
They had been sentient enough to loop around his legs, trying to scrabble up his pants. So many eyes staring so hungrily at his naked flesh right above his bluejeans... even as he tore them free with fists covered in flame, not giving a shit if his pants or skin was burned to cinders, so long as those tendrils of infectious eyeballs were OFF OF HIM!
Yet even as he whipped the last hissing swarm of writhing tendrils off his body, he desperately directed his trees in a battle they couldn’t hope but lose as the deadly Bronze mercenaries split their focus between him and obliterating the fiery branches with plasma fire.
But Eric wasn’t trying to beat them, even as he desperately dodged their plasma fire. All he needed was a thick barrier of wood between them and the manor entrance, and him. which meant that his friends wouldn’t be instantly fried to ash by plasma fire…
or his fists.
“Kill the boy! I’m burning those fuckers down!”
“Yes sir!”
The last words the trio of very human sounding armored soldiers said before Eric showed just how useful his tree-like spell could be.
Because at that moment it wasn’t about honing himself in cultivation enhancing duels, while dodging a plasma minigun like a charging idiot trying to close with them. It was about using all the resources at his disposal and saving his friends and an unborn child from absolute monsters, and if that meant he had to pull out all the stops save for transcendent attacks he knew better than to reveal before the final minutes of this endless night… then so be it.
“Sarge!” The final word of a woman’s panic as she and her team instantly lost their footing when they were scooped up by massive etin like tree limbs the moment all their focus was on Eric, all three of them sent flying in the air, streaks of wildly fired plasma hitting absolutely nothing. Only one had anything like a jet pack, and even with superhuman stats all he could do was manage a controlled crash into a building wall.
The other other two were twisting around futilely as superhuman stats did nothing for momentum and inertia with nothing under their feet and Eric able to make full use of Speed Racer and Battletime as he pivoted right behind the man still desperately holding his minigun as he tumbled through the air, before his helmet met Eric’s fist.
FIRE FIST has been infused with Power Strike! (Transcendent attack deferred!)
Power armor FAILS to save versus CATASTROPHIC damage!
Your opponent FAILS to save versus CATASTROPHIC damage!
You have obliterated your opponent!
(Two knuckles have suffered hairline fractures.)
Eric let the words flicker past his mind as fast as thought, roaring his fury as he sprinted for the mercenary who had just crashed feet away and was already attempting to right himself, glaring at Eric through the now open visor… before Eric struck his foe’s face with his fist so hard that his knuckles smacked against the back of the helmet as brain, bone, and blood exploded from the now obliterated helm in an explosion of Fire.
You have critically struck your opponent for Catastrophic damage!
Your foe’s skull has been obliterated!
Experience Earned!
Compressed Fire Fist backlash has cause you one Light Wound and singed your hair! (Multiple mitigating affinities and factors in play!)
Your strained forearm FAILS to save versus structural integrity damage!
You are now suffering multiple hairline fractures. You are suffering Minor Impairment with your Right Hand & Forearm.
All of it happened in a flash, a split second stretching as intensely as the pain suddenly flaring up his arm with the pair of men that had been sent flying a second time, catapulting from flung tree to his fist before soaring into death as their ragdolling bodies crashed to the pavement some distance away, their high tech suits erupting in fire and boiling blood.
The damage he had suffered, crumpling high tech Bronze-tier armor with his naked fist and a Quickness now almost one and a half times as high as his Strength or Vitality, meant that multiple finger bones and his wrist had paid the price.
Fortunately, the pain and impairment wasn’t enough to leave him a helpless agonized wreck while the final mercenary tried to take him out.
But it was enough to keep him from socking the woman now screaming bloody murder as she spun around so painfully slowly, her plasma firing death gun at the ready.
So Eric drew and struck with his mithril blade instead.
Iado skillcheck made with off-hand!
You have successfully decapitated your opponent!
Fire Fist is now Rank 21
Iado (Fast-Draw) is now Rank 19!
You have successfully slain 3 additional Bronze Tier opponents! You have gone up MULTIPLE levels in your Legendary Class!
You have ambushed your foes using spells and terrain to your advantage. Tactically prudent, and utterly failing to push yourself to your limits.
No additional cultivation levels have been earned at this time.
Eric wasted no time. As much as he wanted to crash in a shuddering heap for at least a few seconds, this was Freetown, home of a faction that absolutely despised him and his family, eager to see them all six-feet-under, and not at all above bending their own rules to pull in high powered over-leveled assassins to make that happen. Just as bad, there was a fallen asshole who’s mind-slaving tendrils clearly hadn’t died with him.
Tentacles that could be slithering toward him at that very moment...
Eric spun around like the paranoid survivor he was, and was grateful as hell that he did when he actually spotted, in addition to the blinking-eyed tentacle slithering across the dirty cobblestones toward him at that very second, a pair of cold-eyed goblins who were taking a bead on him from a nearby building ledge.
His sudden alarm and Danger Sense spiked so hard together that he had sprung to his feet in a panicked leap as the air lit up with fresh plasma fire that tore into the trunks of the trees behind him but hit neither him nor his prone friends.
Though, much to his fierce satisfaction, the suddenly panicked goblins couldn’t say the same.
You have successfully used Fast Draw skill (non-iado variant) to draw, aim, and fire Soul bound Plasma Blaster! (Your personal Soul-Bound blaster, modified by Runes of Resilience, does NOT break apart or suffer catastrophic weapon failure as you aim and fire at over 700 Quickness!)
Unified Perception (And over 400 in underlying characteristic!) Pierces Enemy Shadow Cloak!
Blaster skill check: Critical success! You have pierced the hearts of 2 Level 30 Goblin Assassins!
You have successfully obliterated one sapient Tentacle!
Advanced Arcane Weapons is now Rank 10!
Congratulations! You have achieved Rank 10 in Advanced Arcane Weapons! Finesse, Perception, & Arcane Reserves have each gone up 1 point (modified by relevant stat bonuses!)
Please choose from the following… you have deferred Perk Boon selection at this time.
“Abjuro!” Eric shouted, the instant a second look around made sure there was no one nearby, neither goblins, red filaments, nor sapient slithering tentacles looking for fresh hosts. Eric wasted no time, sprinting for all he was worth to claim his prizes of battle before any asshole or mind controlling vine could animate or otherwise use them against him.
Because raising the dead into hideous abominations to serve until the end of time was HIS shtick, and he wasn’t sharing.
Only after he had claimed all four bucket heads and their plasma rifles and miniguns did he race down the ally, leaping onto the rooftop where the goblins had been ambushing him, just in time to see an unarmed goblin wearing a white uniform hiss at him after stripping both bodies of their high tech weaponry and other assorted prizes.
“Lasers are not for you, human! I am a bonded peace officer, and it is forbidden for you to—”
Fire Fist!
Goblin skull has exploded into crimson paste!
You have claimed 2 additional Mark II carbines and the enmity of multiple peace-keeping associations!
Silver tier Phoenix talisman currently in play.
All warrants and edicts have been rescinded.
“Peace officer my ass! You just tried to rob me of my Prizes of War. Worse, you were acting as their fucking spotter. Well now you can spot them all the way to hell,” He said with a sneer for the shattered headless body still ragdolling through the air. “Skydragon at its best,” he smirked, before cursing, realizing that he was most definitely on the clock and that time was running out for his friends.
He darted back to the property entrance as fast as Quickness and Speed Racer would take him, heart in throat, fearing the worst even as he chain summoned a veritable forest of trees now surrounding the entire front of the manor that by some miracle hadn’t had it’s walls breached yet, no doubt thanks to Grim and company’s protective magics. Yet seeing as he had come just in the nick of time, he didn’t hesitate to cast his protective fiery trees a dozen-fold, draining both Mana and Qi by nearly 1700 points and flashing a fierce smile of satisfaction when he got an unexpected notification.
Congratulations! Hell Vines is now Rank 9!
Hell Vine roots will effortlessly sense, and obliterate, any tentacles that try to slip past your grove!
You have successfully completed the quest: Defend my people! Experience earned!
“Alice!” Heart in throat, Eric slipped through the entrance, not daring to put off facing what he feared would be absolute tragedy even a second longer. Because if they were hanging on by a thread and his skills could make the distance and he choked up when he was needed the most… No. He absolutely refused to take the leading role in any tragedy of his own making. So he forced himself to turn around, before falling to his knees in heartfelt relief.
He had feared the absolute worst, seeing his friends in charred, smoking heaps with distant cackling laughter filling the heavens as he swore eternal vengeance against all the assholes gunning for his home.
Instead, what he found was a pale faced yet very much alive Alice, glaring at her husband tourniqueting her foot stumps while she was cursing up a storm. OR looked about to curse a storm, her lips moving so slowly it was eerie. Probably still in shock. Of course, had she been a mortal, the shock alone might have killed her in short order. As it stood, she was alive, and that boded very well for their future. And Eric understood both her pain and Louie’s panicked concern, so wasn’t surprised that neither were looking his way.
What did surprise him was the several dozen other people moving so slowly like half-frozen glaciers as they turned to him, expressions slowly going wide with awe, shock, and in more than a few cases, terror. Though considering that they were sheltering in a lich’s inner sanctum, he thought the fear he could taste in the air more than a little bit unfair.
Only then did he catch Grim’s gaze, furious focus thawing the slightest bit with the heartfelt smile the lich favored him with.
“Well done, Eric. You have our clan’s eternal gratitude.”
Eric blinked. “Well of course.” His brow furrowed with sudden concern. “What spell did those assholes cast that slowed everyone to a crawl? Maybe I can help.”
Grim’s eyes twinkled, though he didn’t say a word, continuing to communicate with thoughts alone. “There is nothing you can do for them, I’m afraid.”
Eric’s gaze grew intent. “You’d be surprised. I’ve been growing in all sorts of ways since last we spoke.”
This earned more silent laughter. “I have no doubt of that, my young friend. I need merely sense the wild magics of Wood and Fire now guarding my home with such fierce devotion to know the truth of your words. Yet I fear you can do nothing to alter the flow state of my guests and family. For they aren’t the ones stretching free of time’s grip.”
Eric blinked. “I’m not sure I understand.”
Much to his surprise, the distinguished looking Moorish gentleman sighed, even if it was with his mind, his body as still as everyone else’s. “Tell me, Eric. Just how high is your Quickness attribute?”
Eric’s eyes widened, cheeks flushing, suddenly understanding the problem. Still high on battle and desperation, he was embracing Battletime fully. And with that perk assuring that Finesse and Perception would match his Quickness in terms of temporal perception, so long as the total of the former two was equal to or greater than the latter… he was currently processing information roughly 35 times faster than, say, a top-tier chess master. Even if he wasn’t particularly good at playing chess. At least he hadn’t been before the ascension.
Eric took a shuddering breath, allowing his brain to relax, embracing slice-of-life flow once more.
And suddenly the courtyard was filled with desperate shouts dying off to quiet curses and relieved sobs, Eric by no means feeling slow or sluggish, merely that he had slowed from a ground-eating sprint to a casual scenic stroll but could speed up to a run full out the instant the mood struck him.
Instead, he chose to embrace a moment of calmness, which at this point, if the slow but steady uptick of his Qi Pool he was now experiencing was anything to go by, was almost as good for him as moving meditation.
His first move of course was to gently clap Louie’s shoulder. “Let me help you with that, bro.”
Finesse check made! You have avoided shattering your friend’s shoulder. You haven’t even left a bruise! His wince is pure exaggeration. You’re almost certain of it!
Blood Mastery skill check successful. You have successfully staved off fatal arterial flow.
You have engaged in Lesser Healing.
“Boy scout? Boy scout! You’re here!” Alice cried in wide-eyed surprise when Alex seemed to suddenly pop into existence before her, and in the blink of an eye, her stumps were sealed over, bleeding no longer.
Eric grinned. “I guess I am, at that.”
“How? How are you even…” She turned to the lord of the compound with a confused look in her eyes. “I thought, with what Master Grim had said…”
But the distinguished gentleman who was actually a lich just gave a chuckle. “Our dear friend Eric never fails to surprise… or impress.”
For some reason Eric felt his cheeks flush as Louie gave him a powerful, grateful hug. “Boy scout! Still strong as an ox and coming to our rescue out of fucking nowhere!”
The man’s good-natured jock smile turned to a painful grimace. “Sure as hell, when those power armored psychopaths popped out of nowhere, moving so fast I couldn’t even see them. Then suddenly there’s a forest full of…” He paled, gazing up at Eric’s enchanted Hell Vines that presently looked far more like oak trees with fiery leaves then actual whipping vines… clearly, the spell was evolving. Or perhaps it was just his intent? Visions of noble sentient oaks serving as woodland guardians definitely resonated on some arcane level within him.
Louie gave an awed shake of his head. “And now I don’t see any sign of those power armored assholes.” He gave a relieved chuckle. “Hell, I thought were were goners for sure.”
“Yet somehow were not,” Alice whispered, taking in Eric once more with a cheeky grin. “Instead, we’re treated with a guest appearance of our favorite ‘Master Criminal’ who’s clearly getting in touch with his inner Momoa, rocking the blue jeans and buff body build, with just a splash of blood in the form of sigils that look drawn by a master, to show the world just how fucking badass our favorite boy scout is becoming.”
Louie nodded. “With his looks and physique, he could land the leading role in any action movie worth producing.” He then chuckled ruefully. “Not that any of that matters now.” He gave Eric a curious look. “Do I even want to know how high your stats are? Or why, exactly, you aren’t wearing armor, or how the hell you managed to get here just in the nick of time?”
Eric winked. “No. It keeps breaking, and serendipity.”
Louie gave a rueful chuckle, eyes twinkling. “Well regardless, it’s damn good to see you, Eric.”
Alice nodded, eyes filled with warmth, pain, and the relief that only comes after surviving truly perilous circumstances. “How is it that you’re always here when we need you the most, boy scout?”
Eric’s return smile grew strained. “Yeah, about that. I gotta be honest. As much as I want you all to know that I always have your back… my original reason for coming wasn’t to perform last minute rescues. Though you better believe that just went to the top of my list.”
Lord Grim favored Eric with his full attention. “Is that so.”
“Alright, what’s the real reason why your here?” Louie asked. “Are you planning a score? Because I gotta be honest, with the shit that’s infected this city over the last few days… has it been a few days? This night feels endless… now might not be the best time.”
Alice gave a sultry chuckle. “Actually, right now, in the middle of all this chaos, is the absolute best time. At least for Eric and my brother, when he finally gets finished with his damned reconnaissance and takes over maintaining the ward. Now might be the perfect time for a heist.” Her eyes positively twinkled. “So, Basher, which bank’s our next target?”
Eric chuckled, though his mirth didn’t touch his icy gaze. “It’s not a heist, Alice. Or rather… it’s all of them.”
His friends stilled, giving him a curious look.
He smiled and held there gazes. “I’m not here for any heist, save for the grandest one of all.”
Louie’s eyes widened. “Fuckin’ a. I think… Hell, boy scout, are you actually gunning for Freetown now?”
Alice furrowed her brow. “Louie, that’s insane. And with all the invading shit going down, those freaks that can take over people’s brains or drain their powers…” She gave Eric a hard look. Then paled. “Eric…”
“The goblins betrayed Caliban and the Blue, not to mention betraying every last citizen of Freetown who thought this place would serve as a sanctuary where they could expect a fair shake and a shot at making it in a world that’s gone all to hell. Now I have it on good authority that thousands are about to be sold wholesale to the CFA. The same assholes that were planning on enslaving us while Stibbs made out like a bandit on our sweat, tears, and eventual corpses.”
The three shared hard smiles at how all that had played out, before Eric gestured at the seen of devastation and slaughter that could just be made beyond the tree-lined gate.
“As far as I’m concerned, the goblins have proven themselves to be treacherous worms, repeatedly, and are just as bad as the orcs. Maybe worse.” His smirk hardened. “Which means they don’t deserve any more mercy than I showed the orcs. So yeah. Bronze-tier fuckers or no, I plan on freeing some captives and claiming this town. And if psychotic high level Contenders or mercenaries want a piece of me? Well fuck it! They’re more than welcome to come get some. I’m always happy to grab some more points and levels.” With that declaration, he dropped a number of priceless prizes in front of his now speechless friends.
It was enough of a sight that nearly all the frightened looking students or refugees who had somehow ended up here were gathering with newfound hope in their eyes.
“Is that one of those laser guns?” A young girl’s thready voice broke through reverential hush.
“Damn right!” Eric said brightly. “If anyone has any sort of gunning or hell, Warrior class… like my good friend Louie here,” he said with a smile, formally handing Louie the blaster with the most charges, “You’re more than welcome to use it in defense of your home… so long as you give the oath never to use it on myself, my family, or my friends.”
Louie’s eyes were filled with something shockingly close to brotherly gratitude, pounding Eric’s back with a mighty hand. “You are the man, boy scout. Abso-fucking-lutely standup! No two ways about it.”
Sadly, not everyone felt the same way. “That blaster still has a hand clenching the grip,” whispered a shocked-looking girl who couldn’t have been any older than Eric.
“Yeah, but it’s a goblin hand,” Eric said. “They’re small. Really easy to pluck off. Like peeling an orange rind. See?”
The pretty freckled redhead shuddered in horror, gazing at Eric as if he were the monster.
That didn’t stop a hot-eyed kid who might have been thirteen from claiming one himself, challenging the handful of concerned looking adults with the confrontational glare of someone who had already been to hell and back, and there was nothing you could do to scare them, or sway them.
“My dad was a cop. He taught me how to shoot,” was all he said, and Eric was impressed despite himself, the kid boldly plucking free the hand from the smaller, lighter blaster rifle that the goblin snipers had used.
Eric ignored the handful of displeased murmurs from the growing crowd, giving the kid a thoughtful nod. “So long as you’re willing to take the oath, sure.”
The kid’s eyes widened, looking like he had heard his first bit of good news in over a year. His clothes were threadbare, despite obviously being in the care of Grim’s household. Still, he quickly got a reign on his hope. “Seriously? Alright, yeah… I swear it. Not to obey you in all things or any bullshit like that. Just um, yeah. I swear I won’t ever use it on you or your family or go all dark side and start shootin innocent people just because the world fucked me over.”
“He’s too young, what does he think he’s doing?”
“That Contender shouldn’t be letting him even hold the thing! You see how angry he is. Juvenile hall is the place for someone that damaged.”
“Chill, Marge. It’s the post apocalypse. None of us are screwed on quite right.”
The boy flinched but ignored the soft murmurs. Just as Eric did, all his focus on the youth before him. “Are you sure?”
The boy swallowed once, locking gazes with Eric. “You’re going to do something, aren’t you?”
Eric smiled and nodded. “Assuming the lord of the house doesn’t mind.”
Lord Grim’s laughter was low and melodic. “Our savior and most distinguished Master Necromancer is free to perform whatever acts or rites he sees fit. With no restrictions.”
Eric blinked, not having quite expected carte blanch permission, but perhaps he should have.
His fingers gently touched the boy’s brow. “You plan on keeping to that oath?”
The boy nodded, before his eyes suddenly widened. A look of absolute horror twisted his features, before immediately transforming to awe.
“Fuuck… you really are a necromancer, aren’t you?”
Eric grinned. “As a matter of fact... yes, I am.”
“Myl, what did he do?” Asked a hard-eyed girl wearing similarly threadbare attire who looked like a stiff breeze would blow her away, for all that her eyes were the mirror of her obvious brother’s.
“He oath-bound me, Meg!” Myl said with odd glee in his voice, despite the horrified looks this declaration caused. “If I ever break my word to him, he can claim my soul for eternity and I get no saving throw at all! Not unless I’m Silver, and we both know that’s never going to happen.”
Eric blinked at this, surprised to hear that there was any sort of limitation at all, which could only mean one thing.
He ignored the horrified looks being sent his way, one of the teenage girls who had been examining the other lighter blaster immediately blanching and stepping away from the guns. Eric turned his gaze towards Grim, gazing at them all with a grandfatherly air, before slowly bowing his head.
“Myl will make a worthy disciple.”
The top hat and frock coat-favoring lich who could blend in so perfectly with human glamour grinned. “You can sense it as well then.”
Eric didn’t bother denying it. “I do. And most people I bind get no escape clause whatsoever.” He turned to the rest of those who had chosen to stay, all clearly disciples of the informal school Grim had set up and thus far less bothered by bindings that had caused most of the others to quickly find reason to be elsewhere.
He cleared his throat. “You don’t have to worry. So long as you don’t break my trust, you’re soul can go wherever it likes, after death. But the Damocles blade hovering over your souls is damn well necessary, before I let what are for me, complete strangers claim a handful of blaster rifles and carbines. Its the same oath that pretty much everyone who wants to run what will be the sweetest dozen delves in all the world will also be taking, once I clear out the trash and get the ball rolling again. If that doesn’t sound fair to you? You’re more than welcome to walk away. So spend a minute. Think about it while I assign a few level-up points. Just know that once I’m done, I’m out of here, because time is one thing I don’t have to waste.”
He exchanged looks with Grim. “Is it okay if I take a five minute breather?”
Grim nodded agreeably. “Come. You may refresh yourself in my study.”
Eric nodded agreeably enough, allowing his mind to wander for a few refreshing minutes as he strode the halls of a manor so elegantly appointed that even his mother had looked the tiniest bit jealous the one time he visited. He was almost surprised when he felt Grim’s dry powerful hand clasped his own, depositing a prize he had scarce expected.
“A heirloom temporarily placed in our safekeeping, now returned to you.”
The man’s dark gaze was strangely intent, yet all Eric felt was relief and gratitude.
His necromancer ring. Back at last! Even better…
“Surpy’s still inside! Sleeping snug as a bug in a rug.”
The lich gave Eric an oddly paternal smile. “Indeed he is,” he said, opening the door to his study and revealing a cup of rich steaming chocolate, a mug of frosty-cold milk, and a bowl of home-made chocolate chip cookies. “Sit. Refresh yourself. Meditate upon your build. When you are ready, you need but ring the bell and your friends and I will fill you in on the situation here in Freetown and, how shall I say it? Aid you in your path to ascension.”
With those words, Grim quietly left, closing the polished hardwood doors softly behind him.