The war church was loud and had dozens of people littering the space. Opathu hung back for a moment and faced a wall to reattach the front of his pants haphazardly. Arthur first noticed the faint smell of blood that hung in the air. The second things he noticed were the few sets of tables and a commissary across the room. The tall ceiling allowed the space above the supply store to be used as a second seating area. It was occupied by people who exuded the sense that they were in positions of power. Besides the men with exceptionally decorated armor sets, there was an assortment of aristocrats talking with them.

A groan slipped from Arthur’s throat and he put a hand on his chest. He could feel the bruising under his clothes. One of the buckles that fastened the front of his armor was bent out of shape and hanging open. He and Opathu hobbled up to the commissary and Arthur slapped down a few more chunks of gold and rasped out something about healing. The attendant wasn’t at all hesitant in setting down more healing potions and smoothly taking the payment. He shoved a couple into Opathu’s hands and plopped down in the first free chair he saw. The two old soldiers playing cards were understandably annoyed with a random sitting at their table. They just decided to ignore them when the huge half-orc sat down.

Arthur uncorked the potion and tried to drink it but coughed some up and gagged. “It tastes like blood and sugar!” Opathu had just finished chugging down one of his own. “What did you expect?” Arthur’s eyes widened as he felt the thick liquid give him a feeling of warm relief that spread over his damaged organs. He forced himself to drink the rest of it. He almost threw up before he got the second potion down. He watched as his health points rapidly restored and breathed deeply. “I think you messed up my lungs, man” Arthur complained as he lit a cigarette. “You deserve it. That fight was a fucking embarrassment.” Arthur shrugged and began to use the empty potion bottle as an ashtray.

Opathu sighed in exasperation and rubbed at the bridge of his nose with his oversized fingers. “Where did you learn to fight? You’re green but you aren’t bad with your hands.” Arthur blew out a quick puff of smoke “I didn’t really learn to be a warrior. Everything I learned was for the sake of sports.” This confused the big orc. “I’m not sure if I believe that, your scars and clothes tell a different story. You mean dueling instead of card games don’t you?” Arthur scratched at his chin as he thought about it. “Kinda, fist-fighting in a ring isn’t something I did too often. But It was a good exercise doing the training for it. The only thing I tried to do for real was baseball.” Opathu grunted loudly “What the fuck is baseball?” Arthur attempted and ultimately failed to explain the game to a person from a different reality.

It didn’t take long for the conversation to turn to Opathu’s life. Arthur learned that the orc was a mercenary soldier that had participated in the conquest war that raged in the city more than two decades before. Opathu bragged about how he was only fifteen when he helped the war effort, which only made Arthur feel sad for him. They shared a drink while the orc rambled off some tales of battle. Arthur particularly enjoyed the story about how he killed a guy who used a razor blade whip. At some point, Arthur got startled as loud thudding reverberated throughout the church. He and many others turned their heads toward the staircase as a truly intimidating figure descended it. Arthur wondered how the stairs didn’t splinter and crack straight down the middle. The guy must have been a few feet taller than even Opathu, by his logic someone that muscled shouldn’t be able to move as quickly and as easily as he did.

His head was covered by a gilded great helm with a single horizontal slit across it. It looked scratched and dented yet incredibly sturdy. Otherwise, he was pretty lacking in defense. A fine armless poncho was draped over his shoulders. Maybe regular shirts ripped too quickly on him. Arthur then noticed the footprints all over the church that marked where his metal greaves and heels left marks indented the wooden floor. It almost looked like he was tan but on a second glance, his arms were so heavily crisscrossed with scars that his pale skin only blotched the pattern.

Arthur decided to do something dumb and try to analyze him. The name section was only question marks just like the necromancer, but the level just displayed a little skull next to it. Arthur swallowed hard, how high was his level to display such an obvious warning sign? He tensed up when the man reached under his poncho, retrieved a handful of shiny glowing coins, and started tossing them with extreme accuracy at people sitting at various tables, including Arthur. He fumbled the coin before holding it in his open palm. The currency felt as solid as metal but was a faint red and shined softly with magic. It had a somewhat intricate design that relied heavily on a sword motif.

Dueling Token

This coin is a sign of gaining honor

in the ring of combat. This coin has

A multitude of uses, though a single token

doesn’t amount to much.

Immediate use: + 300 skill exp.

to any combat skill

The warrior made his way out with each step making the floor creak and groan in stress. “Wow.” Arthur gawked at the man as he left the church. “Getting all moony-eyed for the war chief?” Opathu smiled thinly, and Arthur just let out a short scoff. “Maybe if he took that bucket off his head.” and they shared a short laugh. “Seriously though.” Arthur rolled his shoulders and lit his fourth cigarette to the annoyance of some people sitting around them. “Does anybody know what level that guy is?” Opathu looked over the footprints on the floor. “The last time someone could see his level it was at around…” He paused as he tried to remember. “Four hundred-something. And that was about a year ago.” Arthur grimaced “That’s a big number.”

Arthur thought about how his muscles had appeared to be ready to explode out from under his skin and decided to avoid anyone with a triple-digit level. “By the way, how do you level up?” This made Opathu pause and look at him in skepticism. Arthur fumbled his words when he noticed the older men at the table had also stopped gambling to look at him like he was stupid. “I’m serious, I don’t know.” Opathu kept looking at him in puzzlement. “Are you fucking with me?” Arthur sighed “I’m not-” an extremely uncomfortable vibrating rung in Arthur’s head, along with a ping of pain before it washed out again. The berserker raised a palm to his temple and groaned. “Ahhh, someone must have fucked with your memory.” Opathu grunted “Mages who can mess with your head are always topping my kill lists.” Arthur just nodded, The pain had passed but it still felt extremely uncomfortable for another few moments.

“The easiest way to level is to go to a shrine in one of the churches. Each church has different boons to using your experience points there. The church of healing and light might clear whatever affliction you have if you level there.” Opathu explained. Arthur looked around until he noticed a section in the corner of the church was a large stone box that kinda looked like a tan marble coffin. The finely chiseled stone box was overflowing with broken and battered weapons of war, each and every implement had been used to its breaking point.

“That’s the shrine of this church? Why is it a box full of broken shit?” Opathu scowled at him and poked him hard in the side of the neck. Arthur squawked in pain and looked up at him with pure annoyance. “Watch your words dumbass; you don’t want to anger the god of killing things by insulting his shrine.” Arthur nodded, but then added. “Then what about the hunter god? Or the death god?” the orc shook his head and sighed. “A weapon that is used to the point of breaking is seen as a sign of devotion to the war god.” answering his earlier question while ignoring his other one. Arthur rubbed at his neck as he stood up, shoving his trash into the bag of holding since it prevented cigarette butts and ash from actually touching any of his other items. “I’m going to go… despite the duel it was nice meeting you Opathu. No hard feelings?”

You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

Arthur held his hand out and Opathu hesitated with a blank expression. The orc cracked a smile and clasped hands with him. “If you ain’t fighting dirty, then you ain't fighting. Right?” Arthur smiled back and shook, then noticed that opathu was squeezing his hand way harder than necessary. When he noticed the shit-eating grin on his new friend's face he realized the kind of game he had started and quickly clamped down with his own hand. Arthur’s grip was barely able to reach around Opathu’s fingers since his hands were almost twice as large. Arthur’s strength stat was way higher than someone of his size should have. True leverage helped in this task too. They both squeezed until their hands became pale. Opathu’s eyebrows raised, impressed that Arthur was holding up this well. Arthur clamped his teeth down and strained just a bit harder.

You have been afflicted with

2x Broken fingers

Opathu had won this round. Arthur hissed through his teeth as he looked down at his swelling fingers. Biting down on his leather armguard, he pulled his fingers straight which made him groan and his eyes moisten. The pain lessened slightly and he looked back up at Opathu’s now impassive expression. Arthur pressed his lips together and almost let his anger get a hold of him, he shoved it all down into his gut the best he could. “See you around then…” And turned around and started to the door. The big guy didn’t even have the decency to say goodbye. Unknown to Arthur Opathu also had to straighten one of his thick, sturdy fingers from an awkward angle. Opathu just had the pain tolerance to hide it from him.

Arthur awkwardly exited the war church and made his way over to what he guessed was the healing church. Some of the passers-by had seen his duel and congratulated him or laughed about the fight. One younger guy even quietly said, “Did you have to go for the balls?...” despite the pain in his hand Arthur chuckled at that. He stepped through the large ivory-colored doors and felt a snap of warmth overtake him. The shrine was the glowing center of the church, though Arthur saw that much of the church wasn’t open space. There was another section behind the shrine was a raised area connected by a set of stairs. There were more sets of doors next to the staircase where men with white priestly robes and women with garbs that looked like the in-between of a nurse and a nun filtered in and out.

The shrine itself was a fountain that had a spiraling center and flowed with crystal-clear water that sparkled in the light. He realized that the spiral in the middle was actually a fancy-looking staff with wings and a snake that coiled around the shaft. “Where have I seen that before?” Once again Arthur got a fright as someone screamed at him from the top of the stairs. “Atreus! You dare step into the temple of my god after what you have done!?” Arthur raised his hands in surrender, palms out. The man who had yelled at him was a tall elderly man that immediately reminded him of the asshole priest from the village he had woken up in. He wore a tight white hat and had regal flowing white robes with intricate gold designs throughout them. The very tall man held both hands clasped behind his back. Arthur used analyze on the man; and began to sweat when he saw question marks, and the ominous skull icon “Woah! I am not Atreus, my name is Arthur!” The suddenly intimidating man paused for a moment as he judged Arthur.

??? has used

Pure Judgement on you

Arthur seized up hard when he saw that notification, expecting a beam of light to come down and vaporize him. Nothing happened though and the priest hummed as he started taking big thudding steps down the staircase. “Then explain why you look exactly like the angry little man who put their filthy hands on one of my underlings!” Arthur was still too afraid to take offense to the insult; besides the priest was literally talking about someone else.

“I honestly don’t know. Uh… may I ask your name?” Arthur kept his eyes on the man as he reached the main floor of the church and approached him. He was clearly bald and had no facial hair at all. The sharp features on his face and his clear old age somehow only made his judging eyes all the more intimidating. “ I am the head of this church. You may call me Sir Calum. Since you aren’t a pillar of salt right now It seems you didn’t lie. Arthur…” He stepped right up to Arthur, and he had to tilt his head all the way back to meet eyes with the man who clearly passed 7 feet in height. “Why did you enter our church?” Arthur gulped. “To ..level up?”

Calum hummed and leaned down a bit. “I’m not so sure about you, my eyes don’t deceive me. But neither does my ability fail to detect lies.” He stood back up and one of his hands left from behind his back. Arthur flinched but the man just gestured to the shrine. “I’ll let you advance here if you make an offering.” Arthur didn’t think about it for very long. The guy could probably kill him instantly, and this might show some good faith. Arthur pulled another grape-sized chunk of enchanted gold and handed it to Callum. The head priest nodded in approval and threw the expensive material directly into the waters of the fountain. Arthur marveled as a flash of golden light and streamers of gold energy danced along the ivory staff. Calum looked down at Arthur as he turned to leave again; his expression curious and almost sly. Arthur opened his mouth before closing it again. Then he found his tongue. “What exactly did Atreus do to offend you?” The head priest looked back with anger; before his face softened when he realized that he was asking honestly.

“Atreus… attacked one of my priests who was out in the city. Truly nasty situation.” He placed his hands back behind his back and started ascending the stairs. “Let us hope you are a better version of him.” He then left Arthur's sight, smoothly climbing several stairs with each long step and disappearing into the upper part of the church. Arthur watched him leave and sighed in relief. He slowly stepped up to the shrine. Somehow he knew it was a bad idea to place his hands directly on the ivory fountain. Instead, he put his palms together like he was praying and focused hard. His status screen appeared but was slightly altered. There seemed to be an option to add levels to his main status, plus an indicator telling him how many points he’d be able to apply to stats. What caught his attention were two specific lines.

Required experience points to level up: 30,600

Current experience points: 164,357

He smiled wide as he realized he could level up several times. He willed the shrine to put more levels into his main status, the number indicating his current experience points turned red and the number dropped and the cost of leveling became higher with each number added. So instead of leveling five times, he could only progress three with his current experience. This only annoyed Arthur for a second before he realized it only made sense, the higher the level the more expensive it would be to raise it again. Arthur noted that he could raise his level to thirty-seven and add a total of fifteen points to his attributes. Arthur wasted no time and dumped every point into vitality, and accepted.

Instantly he felt a change within his body. A feeling of heat raced through his nervous system as it adapted, then an extremely uncomfortable feeling as if he was a piece of taffy that was slowly being stretched apart. A groan escaped his lips but as it turned into a yell born out of agony the sound was muted. Sweat poured off his body as the pain dissipated over the course of a minute, he hadn’t even realized he had gone into a kneeling position. Arthur stood up and realized he was about three inches taller. “Huh… nice!” he grinned in satisfaction despite the awful pain he had just experienced.

“Worth it!” he once again checked his status and noticed that instead of having twenty-nine points in vitality as he expected, he had thirty-two vitality. The berserker also noticed that his fingers were no longer busted. Must be the perks of leveling at this church, thankfully Opathu had actually given him good advice. Arthur turned to leave with a pep in his step. In that moment his brain began to vibrate. He seethed and reached up to his face, blood was falling from his nose onto the pure white of the church’s floor.

Warning!

In 38 hours you will suffer from soul-body recoil.

Return to your original vessel within this time

or you will experience extreme backlash and your

soul will integrate into the current vessel.

“Well…Fuck.” Was all that Arthur could manage to mumble as he re-read the notification.