He currently had a plethora of stat points waiting to be allocated, so many that he barely knew what to do with them. So far, none of the monsters that he had sought out had proved to be much of a challenge, but that would change with time.
He was currently standing within a large hill, hollowed out by volcanic flows many eons ago. The rock was smooth and glassy, and it was a perfect hiding place for him, seeing as the entranceway was tiny. It had likely formed from a massive bubble of lava, cooling slowly into a domed shape.
He decided that it was as good a time as any to return to Mire. He had accomplished enough here for now, and he did not fancy his chances against the true monster of the realm. It was time to check in on Edgar and his allies, presuming that he could use the portal to return to the Ash Heaps, rather than simply leave it.
Using the token, he disappeared from Tartarus, reappearing on the city streets in Mire. Waiting until he was alone, he summoned the purple portal into being, and stepped inside. Reality swirled, and he found himself standing in the ruins of the Ashen Citadel.
Reconstruction efforts had already started, but the place was still desolate, the only signs of life coming from the workers. Jonathan could feel his runic array tug upon the mana around him, his strength too high to subsist even on the increased density within the city without aid.
The nearby workers looked up and started gesticulating at him, whispering to one another. Jonathan strode forwards, and found one of the Uthraki working alongside the others, rebuilding a series of buildings with his elemental manipulation.
“Hey, Bordeg! How’s everything going around here?” Jonathan called out.
“Greetings, my lord. Edgar departed to complete the quest you gave him, but it shouldn’t take him much time to do so. When he reaches the cusp of Tier 3, he said that he would ascend to find you.”
“Right. Is there anything that I can help with here?”
“Not particularly. Most of the civilians were glad to be liberated, and there was little resistance. The remainder of the Dread Legions will die soon, and then this world will be ours.”
“That’s good to hear. Now, my body and mind are finding the mana of this world to be entirely too thin. If you will excuse me, I must depart. Mire, and another circle to fall to my power, awaits. Tell Edgar that I will be back in a week to check in, will you?”
The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.
Jonathan headed back towards the portal, basking in the admiration of the workers around him. It was time to truly begin his journey to the seat of Slothari’s throne, where he would destroy her utterly, catalyzing his rise to true power.
Jonathan returned to the alleyway, and stood there for a moment, making sure that nobody had seen him. He left the narrow street, and stepped out into the militant bustle of the fortress town, stepping in and out of units of soldiers and mercenaries. This realm was far larger than the Ash Heaps had been, and he truly had no idea where he was. Perhaps if he joined a mercenary company, he could get to where he needed to be, while gaining power along the way.
Tartarus was too dangerous for now, as he was starting his journey there at the base of Tier 3, rather than nearer to the midpoint, like he was supposed to be. He might have been able to deal with the majority of the weaker monsters there, but anything higher in strength would utterly destroy him.
Sunk into a contemplative haze, he found his way to what looked to be a recruiting station, halfway up the main street. He saw many more along the street, each with a line. There was a small group of armored individuals manning the tent, and a relatively large line waited in front of them, snaking around the corner of an alleyway.
Some of them walked out with grimaces on their faces, but others clutched tokens in their hands, beaming loudly. Jonathan sidled into the line, waiting his turn.
Half an hour later, he was standing before the tent, and he stepped in, apprehensive. He found himself standing before four heavily armored fighters, each of whom had their faces veiled under a thick layer of metal.
“Name?” One of them gruffly declared.
“Jo- Joseph. Joseph Haltor.” Jonathan almost said his real name, but realized that the higher ups in this realm might recognize it. It was better to be safe.
‘Well, Joseph, what do you profess to bring to our mercenary company? We carry out all sorts of missions across the Fetid Plains, and sometimes farther afield.”
“I am quite powerful for my level, and I possess both magical and physical abilities.”
“So, a jack of all trades then. Rare indeed, but not necessarily useful.” The woman who spoke stood to the side of the man who had previously addressed Jonathan. Her tone was sharp, as if disappointed.
“I possess some tricks,” Jonathan said.
“Well, you must, to have survived for this long at such a low level. Well then, if you truly possess such power across the board, then you will have a stronger aura than normal,” the man said, before unleashing his own.
A force like a mountain pressed down on Jonathan, imbued with undercurrents of fiery power. He pushed back with his own, but to his surprise, his was still weaker. However, he managed to prevent the aura from affecting him, if not throwing it back together.
“Interesting. You certainly were not lying,” the man said, sounding pleased. “I believe that you have proven your worth here. Take this token, and hand it to our quartermaster. You are now a member of the Swamp Raiders.”