As the Uthraki beat Edgar into the ground, Jonathan pushed off the wall, and landed softly. He ran forwards, curling his fists, and threw himself at his enemy, coating his right hand with as much energy as he could muster. He drew upon all of his knowledge, creating a perfectly timed punch that caught the Uthraki just as he leaned back to prepare another blow. The punch sailed straight into the base of the man’s chin, sending a resounding crack across the alleyway.

Jonathan followed up the blow as the Uthraki stumbled backwards, snapping his neck with the punch. The demonic man fell over backwards, paralyzed. With a single devastating punch, Jonathan blasted the Uthraki’s head apart with a concussive shock wave of force, painting the previously midnight black obsidian red with the viscera. Essence rushed into him, propelling him up a level. That had been a hard fight, but one that was ultimately worth it. Now that he had seen the true colors of the Uthraki, he had no qualms about killing them.

Unlike Hushar or Tukar, or the siblings, it seemed that many of the normal Uthraki were nothing more than savage brutes. Perhaps those in power did not need to constantly fight to prove themselves. They were undoubtedly the strongest, which prevented a lot of violence. In any case, Jonathan was not going to complain about levels. He was nothing if not pragmatic.

The two men tidied up the blood, Edgar using his wind abilities to scoop it up and deposit it in a shadowy corner of the alleyway. As they entered their hiding place once more, Jonathan sighed.

“This feels, well, wrong in a sense. I know we need these levels, but the trappings of civilization around us make me compare these Uthraki to citizens of my own city.” Jonathan held up a hand as Edgar started to say something. “Yes, I know that is stupid. This race only cares about violence. If that Uthraki had seen us first, he would have raced to kill us. I’m not advocating for us to stop. All I am wondering is if there is a different way.”

“The first few years of killing are always the hardest. I still remember my very first. I was called upon to execute a bandit who had been found guilty by the local authorities. He was set to die anyway, but my father decided that it would be useful to teach me a valuable life lesson. For the few days afterwards, I was a wreck. I refused to eat, and almost ran away. However, I soon came to the realization that the only constant in Telvaria is death. It will come eventually, no matter at whose hands.”

“That sounds rough. How old were you at the time?” Jonathan asked.

“I was twelve.”

Jonathan simply took this in silence. He knew that his Earthling sensibilities were tainting his judgment here, but he still was appalled. Although levels would have made up for lapses in judgment caused by youth, it still did nothing for the emotional aspect of being at that age. It would have been a terrible experience, no matter what. He would have loved to have a few stern words with Edgar’s father. At his current level of power, he would have a chance of beating him. In fact, most Tier 2s were within his range. Unless Edgar’s father was at the very peak, Jonathan would have been able to pound him into a sack of jelly.

Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

“As you can see, that was probably a good indication of the character of my father. All he cared about was preparing me for the throne. However, that never happened. My brother is probably getting ready soon. My father was quite old when I left.”

“I never really knew my parents when I grew up. They both died pretty early on. However, at least my memories of them were not tainted by the heinous things that your father made you do. I have that to be thankful for.”

They sat there in silence for the next few hours, practicing with their skills. Jonathan was attempting to claim a new rune, but he could feel the construct slipping out of his mind as he tried. The fundamental building blocks of the System were not something that were conducive to everyday use. He could only hold a certain number within his mind at a time, likely controlled by his mastery over the skill. Still, looking into his runes gave him some valuable experience with both of his skills. However, it was nowhere near enough to get another rank.

From Journeyman on was a struggle that would be measured in months, or even years. It was on a scale meant for those who lived forever, as long as they kept leveling. As such, it took far longer than any mortal could ever hope to live to reach the end. Jonathan would achieve true mastery however, no matter how long it took.

The next Uthraki came down the alleyway a few moments later, but this one seemed to be quite different from the first. It was clearly a woman, going by the shape of her body, but she was clad in a dark cloak that hid much of her features. She held a message in one hand, and a dagger in the other. This was not an everyday run of the mill Uthraki.

Jonathan gave Edgar a look, but the man simply shrugged. They leaped out at the passerby as she neared the entrance, stopping in front of her. The woman hissed and sank into a fighting stance, tucking the piece of paper away. Another knife appeared in her free hand.

“Who are you?” She asked, narrowing her eyes. Then a look of shock came across her features, only visible on the lower half of her face. “Wait, you are not Uthraki. You must be outsiders!”

The Uthraki started to turn and flee, but Edgar tripped her up with a whip of wind, sending the woman sprawling. She seemed to be lower level than the first Uthraki had been. The letter spilled out onto the ground, and Jonathan hurriedly picked it up. Opening it, he read the contents.

To the Guildmaster,

Overlord Mortan Alogar has begun to crack down upon our people, sending his enforcers against them. However, there is little we can do about it. He is surrounded by a cabal of high leveled fighters, and his home is warded against us. No Uthraki who is not aligned with him can enter. I hardly need to expound on the difficulty of killing him in public. We need a change of plan, before our heads line the walls of this city.

Nightblade #7