In Mire
Hushar and Edgar fought side by side, rivers of blood coursing down the streets of the Oozing Citadel. Eva used her spear to great effect nearby, supporting the two stronger fighters. Her level had reached the 270s, and she was an elite in her own right by this point, even by the standards of Mire. Thousands had fallen to their efforts, and tens of thousands to the power of their small army. With Slothari gone from Mire, her city was far less defended than before. Even though an entire army resided there, Slothari represented such a large portion of her forces’ might that her departure had made the impossible possible.
Hushar’s face blazed with rage and anticipation, finally close to his brother once more. Seeing Slothari wearing his skin like he was nothing more than a plaything had incensed him beyond belief. Only the thought of saving Tukar kept him from agonizing over his own weakness, and lack of ability to gain revenge.
The city’s walls had fallen to Edgar’s elemental power, which had unleashed a hive of defenders. However, the narrow streets of the realm’s capital weren’t conducive to any large scale troop movements. It was part of the reason that Slothari’s presence had been so essential, apart from her overwhelming strength. Having a few elites that could repel an invading force was better in city fighting than choking alleyways and side streets with useless fodder. Sure, there were a few elites here and there, but at this point, Hushar, let alone Edgar, were more than a match for them.
The few that got by were dealt with by the two thousand or so natives of the Waste Warrens who had followed Edgar on his quest. At this point, they were almost elites by themselves, with their levels having exploded over the last few weeks.
“WHERE ARE THEY?” Hushar bellowed, scarcely heard over the din of battle. His sword cleaved through a dozen necks as he spoke, but he received no answer.
Edgar pursed his lips slightly, worried about the mental state of his friend and ally. Hushar was invaluable, both strong and loyal, but he had his own faults. Anything to do with his recently reformed family would trigger his bloodlust, narrowing his desires down to one thing. It was a good trait, all things considered, but when facing off against steep odds, it was dangerous.
As the city spread out before them, the two men spearheaded the advance of their army. So far, about ten of the elite defenders of the realm had fallen to their combined strength, but reserves were undoubtedly coming from the far reaches of Mire. It all depended on whether Slothari was defeated, or not. Edgar and Hushar had accepted their fate, if Jonathan was unsuccessful. There was no way to return to the Ash Heaps without him. They would die in Mire, and their deaths would be especially miserable ones. Their chances were slim, but still there.
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As their foes closed in around them, and their soldiers died one by one, Edgar and Hushar’s countenances grew increasingly grim. Their pace wasn’t sustainable. They needed a miracle.
In Tartarus
Jonathan came to in an unfamiliar bed, in the middle of a spartan room, carved out of black rock. A man, Arkanon, sat on a chair next to him, looking down with concern in his eyes.
Jonathan tried to move, but found his body to be sluggish, refusing to respond. He looked down, seeing his entire front covered in blood. The palpitations of his heart sent more out every second, as his regeneration struggled to keep up. Most of his minor wounds had healed already, leaving only the ruin left of his abdomen.
He groaned.“Where am I?”
“In my palace. You killed Slothari, but she almost killed you. I couldn’t have anticipated my removal from the battle.” Arkanon sighed. “As soon as she banished me, I found myself ten thousand miles away, my teleportation blocked. It was up to you at that point.”
“Ah. How long has it been? I fear for Hushar. Before I came here, Slothari did something that sent him into a rage. I’m afraid that he’s gone on a quest for revenge that will only deliver his own demise.”
Arkanon smiled slightly. “Only about thirty minutes. Your regeneration is incredibly fast.” Then his face fell “Though… there is some bad news. Slothari infused that cut on your abdomen with her elemental energy. Until it wears off, it will never heal.”
“Shit!” Jonathan cursed, falling back against his pillow. “My allies need my help.”
“I’ll help them,” Arkanon replied.
“How? They’re in Mire. If I give you my token, I won’t be able to get back.”
Arkanon dug into a pocket on his armor and withdrew a perfect copy of Jonathan’s own. “A token like this? I found it on Slothari’s body.”
“Ah.” Jonathan let a small bit of hope return. “Would you really do that for me? Hushar and my other allies aren’t your responsibility.”
“I’m not a villain,” Arkanon said seriously. “You’ve allowed me to get my revenge on the beast that killed my wife. I will be forever in your debt. In fact, after this is all resolved, I want to come with you.”
Jonathan raised an eyebrow. “To the next circle?”
“And beyond.” Then Arkanon used the token, flashing out of existence.
Jonathan sighed, and pulled up his notifications. There were quite a few of them.
You have killed Slothari, Ooze Queen of Mire!
You have leveled up!(x4)
The levels weren’t enough to take him to the peak of the Tier, but in a place like Mire, getting there was child’s play. Hell, he could just run one of Tartarus’ dungeons. What was more important was what came next.
You have completed a subquest!
Rewards: Mire’s Mantle(Tier 3 Armor Upgrade), Grasping Ooze(Tier 3 Weapon Upgrade), Crown of the Swamps(Tier 3 Item), a Unique Title, rule over Mire and access to the next realm.
A series of items clattered to the floor before him, but before he checked the stats, he opened up his title upgrade.
You have upgraded a title!
Second Circle Breaker: Unique
You are the only being to ever have completed even the smallest part of the Hellbreaker quest. Such a feat deserves a requisite reward. Every subsequent Circle Lord defeated will grant additional multipliers.
Bonuses: +10% to all stats upon stat allocation.