Some time later, Jonathan finished fighting. Oddly enough, limiting one’s strength had a higher drain on stamina than fighting normally, given that you were essentially fighting your own body's natural state as you went.

Still, the gains were undeniable. From a few hours of non stop fighting, Jonathan had gained multiple ranks in both of his skills, and even one in Martial Arts and Flowing Hurricane.

You have reached Journeyman 7 with Martial Arts!

You have reached Journeyman 6 with Flowing Hurricane!

You have reached Apprentice 6 in Club Mastery!

You have reached Apprentice 4 in Mace Mastery!

With the way that he had been using his weapons, Mace Mastery was lagging a bit behind, given that it was a deeper art. However, all the boosts he could gain were welcome.

In the Oozing Bastion

Things were shifting within the court of Mire, and not in a way that benefited any opposed to its ruler. Slothari was a naturally paranoid creature, and she had found this paranoia growing the longer that this so-called Hellbreaker roamed her realm without being found. He had escaped the careful net that she had begun to weave among the minor rulers of her realm, too clever to be tricked by a city lord whose name she had forgotten by now. His corpse was draped from the ceiling of her grand hall, twisted beyond recognition.

Normally, she was content to rule from her citadel without involving herself in the day to day affairs of her realm, preferring to leave it up to her inquisitors and soldiers. This was different though. Every circle lord considered themselves a minor god, having lived among beings too weak to fight back for the majority of their lives. Now that she knew death was possible, every fiber in her being screamed that she needed to end Jonathan Harlowe before he could grow strong enough to kill her.

The only problem was finding him. Mire was a far larger realm than the Ash Heaps, given the average level of its inhabitants. Well, those that mattered at least. It was big enough to house a few dozen Ash Heaps, and the area that needed to be searched would take months, even with the advantages of Tier 3 power. That was time that she did not have.

Going by the information that her spies had learned from the fall of Granath, the Hellbreaker candidate had risen to a sufficient level of power in a few months, and that was a realm with two Tiers of power, rather than only one.

Instead of waiting, she would have to search the realm herself, utilizing her shapeshifting ability to its utmost potential. Bestirring herself to leave her palace for the first time in centuries, Slothari split her body into tens of thousands of tiny pieces, each of which was transfigured into a small insect. Each insect transmitted information to the gestalt mind that inhabited the swarm, and upon finding its target, she would be able to reform in an instant.

Support the creativity of authors by visiting Royal Road for this novel and more.

An ominous, buzzing hum rose up as the swarm departed the palace, leaving her throne room empty. People in the city beneath shuddered unconsciously as Slothari, Ooze Queen of Mire went out to hunt.

In the Ash Heaps

Eva grunted as she whipped her spear around in a tight arc, beheading the medusa boss of the dungeon for what felt like the hundredth time. After clearing the dungeon five times, she had found, to her horror, that the essence provided dropped significantly, as well as no more rewards dropping. It was a terrible discovery, but by that point she had already been around level 180.

The thought of reconnecting with Edgar propelled her forward, and her skills had all grown dramatically. Spear Mastery stood near the end of Journeyman Rank, and she had formed her first Mythical skill. Her Epic class had filled her with far more stat points than she would ever have expected, and the titles gained from fighting against Granath extended those boosts even further. Perhaps when she ascended, it would be her defending Edgar, and not the other way around.

As the dungeon faded away, she raced into the entrance once more, growing ever closer to Tier 3.

In Mire

Jonathan, Edgar and Hushar snuck through the watery expanse of the swamps surrounding the small town, trying to find any sort of indication of where exactly they were. Jonathan only knew a basic level of detail about the realm he was in, and he had no idea where the nearest city was.

Not that it would have helped, given how dangerous such a place would be to him. Slothari was not bound by the restrictions of the mana density like Granath had been, and even if she was too strong to engage with him immediately, given the Universal Law that existed within the Hells, she could simply trap them, and have her minions kill them.

The expanse of Mire was far greater than that of the Ash Heaps, and there was ample room to roam. Jonathan could run at full speed for days, and not come close to reaching the borders of the realm. More importantly, the various monsters and treasures available rendered it a far more satisfying endeavor if he simply explored at a more natural pace.

“I hear something up ahead,” he said, his advanced racial progression rendering his perception greater than his companions. “Sounds like something stomping through the mud.”

“In this realm, for something to be that confident, it must be quite strong,” Hushar responded, the hunter knowing much more about the habits of monsters than the others. “Should be an interesting fight.”

“You two are something else,” Edgar added. “Battle junkies, the lot of you, addicted to pain and bloodshed. To think that Jonathan willingly goes through the pain of his thresholds, without using the alchemical concoctions that most people use.”

Jonathan froze, and turned slowly, his face paling. “What?” He said, not believing what he had just heard.

“You are a battle junkie-“

“No, not that. About the alchemical concoctions. Why did you never tell me about those?”

“I only found out that you didn’t use them during the dungeon in Tartarus. There was no point in bringing it up there. But I thought you knew!”

“How the hell would I know? I came from another world, remember?” Jonathan almost shouted. It was too late now, but he would have preferred knowing about such things in advance.

“I didn’t know at the time...”

Jonathan shook his head, disbelievingly, and continued marching through the muck, annoyed at his own stupidity. How many times had he bemoaned his suffering, thinking that everyone else went through the same thing, and never complained? He had been laboring under a delusion. Of course people had come up with ways to mitigate the pain. Otherwise the world would be filled with madmen and weaklings.

“What a goddamn idiot I am,” he muttered, shaking his head. Wisely, Edgar kept his mouth shut.