“You barbaric monster,” the spoiled, young, and completely clueless noble lady gasped with dread. “What kind of chimera are you?”
“Pray tell, my lady? Who are you?”
The lady was tall but well-proportioned. She had emerald green eyes and dark auburn hair giving some color to her pale complexion. She wore a brown and blue dress underneath a boiled leather cuirass with flower pattern engravings. The armor was more decorative than functional but I doubted she knew how to wield the ornate short sword attached to her hip.
She puffed her chest, “I’m Callisto, seventh daughter of Duke Arlington and thirty-seventh in the line to the throne of Virturia!”
Meaning she was just a decoration. I doubted she counted as royalty, even. You had to have the Perk, and as far as I knew only the direct line of succession had it.
> Level 65 [High Aristocrat]
As I suspected, she hadn’t even the Class. Worse yet, her rank-up was the generic “you hadn’t any better option” {High} upgrade.
“Meaning you are useless baggage. You can’t fight, and you are useless to us mermaids,” I returned her insult. “Your father probably sent you here so you wouldn’t cause him trouble in the palace.”
Two noblemen snickered. The young lady’s cheeks went red. Truly, she was excellent if her role was to look pretty and be eye candy for the men and women of culture. Strangely enough, the way she whined was eerily nostalgic. I was sure I didn’t meet her before. Neither did I meet anybody else from her family, I haven’t lived in the Scorched Continent for centuries. So, what?
“Mind your words, pea--”
As if I would let her bitch around. “I outrank you, milady. For your own safety, you must understand this. You are invaders in my territory. If you want to aggravate me instead of negotiating your ransom and release, by all means, go ahead.”
She took a step back, more disgusted than scared of me. I was pretty used to it but it still hurt. One could think that the looks of pity Lily and Apricot received because of their conditions would’ve steeled me. They’d be wrong.
The awkward silence broke when the priest of Galbarar broke rank and approached. “Your Highness. Permission to heal prince Rhenius?” He asked politely.
I met his eyes and smiled. “Sure. Can you regrow his hands? I’ll take some distance, it is no good to use divine magic near me. And when you pray to Galbarar, tell him I send my respectful regards to him. I’d like to talk to him when he has the time.”
That last line surprised the haughty lady. Callisto even parted her lips a bit as her expression softened.
The priest closed his eyes and prayed in silence. I felt the rush of divine magic that I associate with a deity approaching for a moment and in the blink of an eye, it was gone. When he opened his eyes next, he was transfixed.
The priest fell down on his knees and raised his hands to the sky “Praised be the Mighty Galbarar! He answered!” A tear streaked down the ecclesiastic’s cheek. He looked at me and said with the utmost respect, “Your Highness, The Lord will see you when he can make the time.”
A series of oohs and aahs rang from the nobles’ mouths. It made my next job all the easier. I even glanced at the noble girl.
“Here, reattaching the hands would be easier than regrowing new ones,” I handily handed the prince’s hands to the priest.”
I searched in the crowd and found the elf nobleman as I shifted my bronchi to include the elven extra set of vocal cords. In good Fulgen elvish, I said, “Come forward, brother. Would you tell me your name and why you waste your time with these humans, please?”
“I’m Gaelin, my queen,” he said as he approached me.
“I’m no longer your queen,” I rebuked him. “I died and the mantle passed to Sariandi.”
“As you wish,” he said noncommittally. He didn’t intend to drop the notion but he would respect my wishes. “In our hearts, we will never forget your sacrifices, my lady.”
“Just don’t worship me, that’s reserved only for the Mother,” I said referring to Yznera, the deity most affiliated with the elves.
She wasn’t their patron, they took their blessings from the covenant with the five elder fairies. That kept the elven race away from the power struggles between the deities as they were free to worship anyone they wanted. With her Nature affinity, Yznera won by a landslide still.
“What are you two talking about?” Callisto bitched. “Lord Gaelin, are you in cahoots with this oceanic monstrosity?”
Oh, goodness. The token female in this blue-blood sausage fest had to be the most vocal and clueless bimbo they had available, didn’t she? I doubt she’d ever been in danger. She has absolutely no sense of self-preservation.
“As it is widely known, my allegiance is to Mother Yznera first, the elf queens second, and your country third, my lady Callisto. I swear I am not betraying you or that I had any previous knowledge or meeting with the mermaids or any of their agents.”
She crossed her arms under her chest and glowered. “How do you explain this? You are clearly friendly with this sea fiend!”
Ignoring all this commotion, the priest was chanting and healing the prince’s hands. I kept my distance lest I interfere with his use of divine magic.
I was baffled by her impudence and a bit impressed by her idiotic spunk. I mean, I bested the prince, the strongest one in this whole expedition. Before I could decide what to do, two noblemen too old to be in a fight took her sides.
“Milady, it is not wise to anger the mermaid {Princess}. She defeated His Highness Rhenius in a fair duel and I don’t doubt she’s strong enough to decide our fate. Please calm down, the answers will come in time. I don’t think Lord Treehugger betrayed us.”
By the way, they received his declaration and the way Gaelin phrased it, I think he became a vassal of Virturia because he had no choice. The only elf noble in a human country, he might have given his allegiance in exchange for something. I must discover what it is. It might be a weakness I can exploit.
Virturia won’t stop here. I know they will send an even bigger fleet this time. I need to get stronger. I might even need to dethrone the current royal family. But I must investigate their claim of being related to me. Would they…
“I don’t care!” Callisto deftly freed herself from her would-be escorts. Her next words of defiance were directed at me. “We are Virturia! There’s no power in this continent that can defy us! Let this mermaid know, she is digging her own grave. We wield the power of the First hero!”
Was this some kind of test? Almost any other entity in this land would’ve beheaded her already. And yet a tiny portion of me was endeared by her bitchiness. This nostalgic feeling I couldn’t pinpoint in the back of my mind. As if she… reminded me of someone?
Oh, dear goodness. No.
I flinched as I tried to deny what I’d just realized. As if a veil was lifted, as if the string on a crochet sweater was pulled and unraveled everything, I knew who she reminded me of. Why I was so nostalgic. Why her attitude endeared me so.
“Yes, fear the power of Virturia, you stupid mermaid!” She cackled.
I had no doubt. They were Anjou's descendants. Maybe in the ebb and flow of time, Anjou’s and Apricot’s identities got mixed up, and it led to this claim that my former niece was the First Hero.
The stories Hazel, the rescued daughter of my brother “Ninefingers” Almond, wrote about the First Hero and the Death Princess must’ve been distorted after all this time. Instead of pinning the two personas to the same person, some storyteller must’ve made them into separate one-sided characters.
I had to dig to the bottom of this.
I couldn’t bring myself to hurt or hate Callisto. I found I wasn’t even annoyed by her antics. It all sounded childish and cute, I had to admit. Even if my suspicion turned out to be wrong, I would leave her alone.
And probably only her. Looking at the still-unconscious prince, I found that I had no qualms about crushing his entire family. Only Callisto would be spared if I went down that path. Anjou’s descendant, if not by blood by spirit.
But that left the other five hundred invaders to deal with. I looked around the crowd and found the archmagister, still recovering from his massive MP expenditure. He was still cut off from the wellspring.
“You, [Wizard]. Come here,” I ordered.
He clambered back on his feet and approached. “Mermaid princess. I’m Marlowe, [Archmage] and archmagister of Virturia. I had no idea who you were but now I know.”
I wanted nothing to do with this groveling wizard. I had a better understanding of what happened. This greedy bastard wanted to use my power. Seize my hard work for himself.
The body language of the nobles watching the scene unfold told me what I needed to know. This guy was the instigator of this whole shitshow. I had no idea what promises he made or how much they knew about what we did here. That was not important. The crowd was about to turn on the [Wizard] and lynch him.
“Which means you are a bully that only preys on the weak and a fool that doesn’t learn about your enemies before dragging everyone else along with you to their doom. Is your repertoire of spells so stupidly lacking that you can’t use long-range communication? ”
The [Archmage] had his pride wounded. He glowered at me for a moment before restraining himself.
I focused all the anger I was feeling on this pitiful spellcaster.
“Yes, you know who and what I am, so you know how much you fucked up. You’ll never set foot inside my domain or receive any help or cooperation from me.”
It was time to spend a few of my species Perks. I didn’t want to rule a realm so I stayed away from most Royalty Perks but if the world would push me to do it over and over again, I needed the tools of the trade. I couldn’t pick it with the human shop but it was available on the other species I had the {Species Royalty} Perk for.
> You gained the Perk: Royal Aura (very rare): You can use body posture to exude a regal aura for 100 MP per second. All non-royals in Charisma meters that antagonize you suffer a penalty equal to half your Ego score to all Skills and Attributes. Everyone in the area knows your location and status. Stealth is impossible while the aura is active. The aura deactivates if you drop your regal posture.
>
> You gained the Perk: Royal Exp Tithing (ultra-rare): You earn 0.5% of all Exp the subjects of your realm sworn to you gain. Should they be sworn to other Royals with this Perk, the Exp is split half to the sovereign and half to the others.
The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.
The first was straightforward. Every non-royal in a thirty-five meter would suffer a minus twenty-five penalty.
The other only worked if the subjects were sworn to you but had no range constraint. In my case, I would gain Exp only from Medaya and a few other mermaids.
I could keep it up indefinitely if I sacrificed almost my whole MP regeneration. But I had the wellspring siphon to cover that. I just had to use it sparingly.
Like right now.
The only person on the boat that wouldn’t be affected was the unconscious prince. I excluded Gaelin and the priest from the aura’s effects.
The pressure from the aura blanketed the whole ship. It brought first the sailors on the lower deck then the nobles to their knees. The last two were Callisto and the archmagister. The former out of pure stubbornness, the latter because he activated some wards on his robe.
“Your life is over, Marlowe,” one of the nobles shouted. “King Romulus will hear of your scheming!”
“My lady,” Marlowe whimpered looking at me. “Please, have mercy.”
“I had my fill of scheming mages that had their heads in their arses, Marlowe. You brought it on yourself,” I rejected him.
“No. I still need the achievement! I’m so close! Don’t do this!” He sounded desperate.
But he got me curious. What did he need an achievement for? I looked at Callisto hoping she had the answer but the girl was just watching the scene unfold.
“Give it up, old man!” Another nobleman said. It’s too late for you. “You’re too late to get it now! You’ll die before you reach the pinnacle!”
“A world where the {Pinnacle of Magic} is beyond my grasp is not a world I want to live on,” the mage said. He had the eyes of a cornered animal, a frenzied one that abandoned hope and only wanted to cause the most damage before he expired.
Were they talking about the Perk you got for putting an Attribute at one hundred? Did Wyxnos wall it off with some sort of prerequisite achievement? I needed to ask someone. The mermaids didn’t level up enough to face that problem, with the staged Attribute caps people had now.
Marlowe was out of himself. The [Archmage] may have jeopardized his position with the kingdom as the nobles would gladly use him as a scapegoat for the failed expedition and the wounded prince. Which was healed already. The priest was recovering but the unconscious debuff that {Grandmaster Backstab} placed on him should require something on the same level to lift.
But as the saying went, a cornered animal was twice as dangerous.
“{Unleash Core}!” He shouted. I felt a massive amount of magical energy coming from him. It was as if he was burning on the inside and the heat was emanating out of him. His magic became wild, unpredictable.
Blood came out of his ears, nostrils, and the corner of his eyes. He spat. “To think I would attain it this way,” he ranted to himself.
Everything felt like in slow motion.
I was frozen in thought, trying to figure out what he meant. Why would the {Pinnacle of Magic} be beyond his grasp? Wasn’t it a matter of having enough points and the cap to reach it? Something was amiss. Were there other requirements for it?
“Let’s see how I fare against the enemy of the gods!” Marlowe raved.
His body smoked. Was he killing himself? {Appraise} told me his HP was dropping. A quick search told me I didn’t have {Unleash Core} in my ridiculously large Perk lists. I couldn’t see the description but I knew the Archmage had little time left to live. He broke the boundaries of his MP pool.
His wild magic was beyond dangerous. The spell he was casting could destroy the whole fleet and a part of the lagoon, that’s what my senses were telling me. Especially because he didn’t seem to be in control.
The guy was pulling a classic “Tellah in the Tower of Zot. [1]”. But why would he go as far as killing himself just because I rejected and the nobles bullied him? All my instincts told me it was not the time to hesitate or be queasy. I did what I had to do.
> Shadow Step
>
> Death Contract
>
> Backstab
>
> Assassinate
He finally cast his spell. “{Disinte--”
I brought Alloralla’s daggers down on his back. The runes on the robe flared to life and repelled me. The same protection the prince had. No, a stronger version. He probably was the one that enchanted Rhenius’ armor. I bit my lip, anxious because of my failure to stop him.
“--grate}!”
I threw a bubble of Force around him. The sickly purplish-brown energy of the {Disintegrate} spell pushed against the bubble and I knew I had to keep it contained to the best of my ability.
I fell on my butt as I felt as if searing spears of glass had pierced my brain from all sides. Two hundred thousand MP left my pool each second. I’ve burned MP faster than this but I had better mental and spiritual protection as well.
I was afraid I’d run out of MP before the mage.
Adding another flow of energy increased the strain instead of reducing it. The effort to keep the magic flowing in the right direction without spilling over was mind-numbing. After supplying the barrier spell with extra energy, I divested some concentration to try and unravel his magic but it proved impossible. Ten seconds in of the thirty-ish I had, It was clear the best I could do was stall for time. It was a battle of attrition. The one to run out of energy first would be the winner.
“Fly, you fools!” I shouted. “This ship is doomed! Jump in the water and swim for your lives!”
The priest and two of the “dive knights” picked prince Rhenius up and jumped. The nobles and sailors followed the royal scion. Callisto jumped after the prince. Gaelin looked at me, concerned.
“Go, elf! You know very well I’m immortal!” I shouted at him. Too many people were using magic and MP-fueled Perks to get away and survive. Without capped MP pools, the amount siphoned by my {Wellspring} plummeted.
> Fifteen seconds.
The spell devoured all of Marlowe’s MP. The [Archmage] couldn’t be seen inside the purple-brown energy pushing and devouring my Force barrier.
> Sixteen seconds.
The last sailor left the ship. I sent the vessel to the item box and dove into the water as I returned to my mermaid self and took on my water elemental form. I was afraid they wouldn’t have the time to put a safe distance between them and the mage.
> Twenty seconds.
Inside my Force bubble, Marlowe’s body withered. Was he really going to kill himself?
> Twenty-two seconds.
Marlowe stopped chanting. Whichever energy he had to supply the spell was over. Still, the disintegration magic hadn’t claimed his body. Maybe it wasn’t suicide.
> Twenty-nine seconds.
I poured two thousand MP into {Water Jet} and multiplied my swim speed by twenty. Two seconds was all I had to get away from the epicenter. Nenandil’s MP supply reached 20% and she stopped sharing it with me.
> Thirty seconds.
I shifted into SP to maintain the bubble around the archmage. With my focus clearer, I created a parabolic disk-shaped Force barrier underneath, pointed upward as if it would get some satellite signal. Once it locked into space around the disintegrating [Wizard], I dismissed the bubble and put the last dregs of my resources into sustaining the dish only.
> Thirty-one seconds.
The wind picked up as the {Disintegrate} spell beamed up and flooded a cylinder above the dish. I realized one thing too late. I didn’t have {Unleash Core} on my list because I already had a better version of that Perk. His Perk worked only for spellcasting, my [Hero]-based {Self-Sacrifice} worked for anything.
That meant he might've put everything he had into that final spell. Exp, Perks, HP, the kitchen sink. If that was true, it would be a massive waste.
The night was illuminated by purple light, like those dark lights that make teeth and white clothes glow at a modern nightclub. I could see the island and the heads of mermaids staring at the magical shitshow.
The vacuum caused big waves to form and crash toward the dish. The parabolic shape helped alleviate the stress of maintaining the barrier but I was still using all I had left to keep the spell from coming down.
Before I ran out of SP, I removed magic cores and used them to recover MP. It was a massive waste but that spell would destroy the whole reef if left unchecked.
I could hear the sailors and nobles screaming. The waves crashed on themselves beneath the dish and bounced back. The sea was beyond agitated. One of the other ships capsized. The three that remained weren’t faring very well. Without their oars, they could do little to maneuver and were adrift on this rough sea.
> Two minutes.
The pressure on the dish lessened. Several people drowned. The purple-brown beam of the archmagister’s last strike tapered down and died. A massive thunderclap followed as the air rushed to fill the vacuum and crashed on itself.
I would like to think that Marlowe the [Archmage] got his feat for an extreme act of magic, posthumously. Even though it was a spoiled act of desperation, he managed to force me to burn eight times his MP pool to block his spell. And that’s before taking into consideration that my {Force Ward} are sixteen times as efficient per MP than a normal spellcaster’s.
As I stared into the abyss, I entertained some soul-searching. I was capable of the same thing he did, in more than one way.
I fired a {Siege Light} spell up. To my surprise, I found an unconscious [Archmage] at the bottom of the parabolic dish. His robes, heavily warded, were glowing with eldritch blue light, bolts of lightning coursing over the vestment.
I did. Even weakened, Marlowe - no, any crazy spellcaster - was a danger to everyone. I jumped out of the water and into the bowl. Allowing myself to slide down the concave surface, I reached him.
> [Archmage]
>
> Level 125 human male.
>
> Magic: 100
>
> HP: ~0
>
> MP: ~0
>
> SP: ~0
The bastard did it. He zero-ed his resources maximums but I suspected they would come back eventually. A common misconception, people don’t die at zero HP but at negative Endurance HP. Or two thousand that amount for me.
Too bad he won’t see the fruits of his treason.
His level didn’t change. His MP pool was completely drained. What was the point of that? Unless it was temporary. Marlowe proved to be unethical and unreliable. What he did was a war crime, tantamount to terrorism.
He was responsible for almost a hundred friendly kills. This man had no right to continue breathing.
I replaced the {Death Contract} on him. Challenged him too. This time, I deactivated his robes’ enchantment before striking.
> For killing Marlowe, level 125 [Archmage], you gained 1T Exp. (Base 156,250 x4,096 Fast Learner x3.05 Exp Boost x3.05 Champion Challenge x7.59 Favored Enemy x7.59 Death Contract x1.5 Rank x2 Class Rarity).
> You reached Veiled Dolphin-Mermaid level 19.
>
> You gained 4 Attribute Points.
>
> Ultimate Surpasser granted you 2 Attribute Points.
>
> You gained 1 Endurance, 1 Mind, 2 Willpower, 1 Charisma, 1 Luck 2 Magic, and 2 Soul
>
> Attributes above the cap were redistributed.
>
> You gained 48 Skill Points.
>
> You gained 2 Human Perks.
>
> You have 43B Exp available.
His body and artifact-grade robes went into my storage. His storage ring, however, fell down on the Force bowl. The ring was made of platinum with gold filigree and three huge Magic Cores on top. It was of high quality and had items inside.
I could put storage items in my item box only if they were empty. After quickly checking for any curses and booby traps with my [Enchanter] profession, I attuned the Core-rimmed ring to me and put it on my finger.
I captured his soul. “Why, Marlowe?”
“Power. Denied to me by the Gods. By the System. Vengeance. Forced to be a vassal when all I wanted was to research my magic in peace,” the ghost replied. “I offer you a deal, reincarnator from another world. I'll trade my knowledge for my life. I know you can bring back the dead. I was a fool for not recognizing you first.”
“You have nothing I want, dead mage.”
The ghost was one of the few that could retain their mortal attachments in death. It usually required a high Willpower and Ego to do so.
“I know the truth behind Virturia’s claim of being related to you among many other secrets of your enemies. Bring me back to life, and I’ll gladly share them with you.”
Something told me this was his plan ever since he found out my true identity. Spirits couldn’t lie to me, though.
“I’ll curse you to have a cap for your Soul attribute of one, and place a geas on you after you pledge your eternal loyalty to me.”
“I’d have it no other way, master,” the ghost cajoled.
There was a dark aspect of this world I never delved into. I could take fairy Perks, one of the blessings of my five godmothers. I checked the details on a fairy Perk that allowed me to curse people.
> Resentment Curse (very rare): You can place curses on creatures you have a great resentment of. The curse’s cost in MP and SP depends on the particular curse. The cost to break the curse is based on your Magic score at the time of bestowal.
I pondered, why would I spend a Perk to bring this asshole from the dead? Just because he has some information for me? Fuck him. I was the one holding the cards here. Did he influence me somehow? I had to be careful.
I checked his storage ring. Marlowe had packed everything inside, both his laboratory, journals, house, and a vast library. Grimoires, treatises on magic, scrolls, history books, novels… I was sure whatever information he had to disclose could be found in these written works.
“I hold all the cards, ghost. Your fate is mine to decide. I won’t let a mass murderer live. What I can offer you is to put you in a cloth golem so your soul doesn’t deteriorate, and later I might make you a new body and allow you to live if you provide useful information. Or I can purify you and send you to meet the Gods right now. Choose.”
“Please! I must live! I achieved the {Pinnacle of Magic}, it is too pitiful to do so only to be killed after that!”
This guy was a coward. He grovels and begs whenever it suits her goals. I had no doubt that when he had the upper hand, he was cold and unforgiving. A psychopath and a terrorist. I felt tempted to revive him just to farm another trillion Exp from him but I decided against it.
“No. Oblivion or the golem. Choose now or I’ll choose for you.”
He chose the golem way. I spent a couple minutes weaving a cloth doll and bound Marlowe’s soul. Then I sent him to the item box where time doesn’t pass, to keep company to the auctioneer and Sumsar, the slaver mage.
----------------------------------------
[1]: A scene from Final Fantasy IV. Google it.