The manor was a swarm of activity, servants and soldiers bustling about every corner in a united front, all working towards making everything perfect for the moment of departure.

In the midst of all that, Rowan found himself with little to do but wait.

No one was going to let him contribute to putting together bundles of equipment for the soldiers, most of all the servants. They were likely to have an aneurysm if the Marquis himself were to pick up supplies to polish and maintain armor and weapons.

Perhaps it wasn’t that there was little to do, but his main task was more than a little nerve-wracking.

Rowan took a deep breath, looked down and hesitated.

It wasn’t hard to understand why.

Having claimed a whole lot of resources just to progress his own deck, Rowan had a very nice set of cards ready to go.

Spear of Malaise (Rare, Active) x3

Cursed Blade of Sundering (Rare, Active) x3

Bloodwhisper Spear (Rare, Passive) x3

And, of course, the final piece of the puzzle:

[Class] Reaping Spear (Rare, Active)

With a final deep breath in and a quick bit of praying to Lady Luck, Rowan hit the fuse button on his interface.

A purple light erupted forth, so wobbly that Rowan was convinced the fusion would fail. Yet, as seconds crawled by, it began to stabilize slowly and relief surged through him.

Eventually, a card dropped down in front of his in all its new glory.

[Class] The Grim Spear (Epic, Active)

Empower your spear with mana that deals devastating injuries. Death, rot, and corruption mana will infest every wound dealt under the effect of this card, and each wound will resist healing and regeneration effects.

Rowan let his breath out, and a grim smile stretched across his lips as he imagined just how difficult that particular card was going to be to deal with.

Most people following the path of the spear had cards with low offensive potential. However, Rowan was pretty certain that even an underwhelming offensive class could make its mark with a card like that.

Rowan sent the card back to his deck, and directed his attention to the next upgrade he had lined up. This one, he was far less sure of.

[Class] Blood Siphon (Uncommon, Passive)

Each wound your spear inflicts will provoke severe bleeding, draining your foes of their life essence. The bleeding effects grow in proportion to the damage dealt.

The card was as simple as it was useful, and it had served him well. However, he didn’t really get many good options to merge it with. He had enough cards for a total of three attempts. And a single failure would outright destroy the card.

Although Rowan only had three attempts, he had five different card combos that he could use in crafting the fuse and enough cards to try any combination he pleased.

Blood Crest (Uncommon, Passive)

Collect the blood you spill in special crests that can be drained for a boost to your healing.

Bracken Blood (Uncommon, Passive)

Each wound you inflict has a chance to inflict your opponent’s bloodstream with a rot-aligned poison.

Carving Strike (Uncommon, Active)

Each wound you inflict is widened, causing more severe blood loss and injuries.

Flesh-seeker Spear (Uncommon, Passive)

Your spear sinks into flesh easily and hungrily, inflicting deeper and more severe injuries.

Blood-churn Spear (Uncommon, Active)

Apply mana to your spear so that every blow you inflict on your enemies speeds up the circulation of their blood, resulting in more severe blood loss.

He could pick two cards and fill out all the slots with them, or try to mix a bit of every card in hopes of a stronger end result.

Unfortunately, the warnings he’d received were very clear on one subject: If he introduced more than four different types of cards to the fusion, including the class card itself, it was all but guaranteed to fail.

Three cards it is.

Picking an active card while trying to upgrade a passive would be risky, but Rowan eventually made his choice. Carving Strike, Flesh-seeker Spear, ****and Blood-churn Spear would be the ingredients that went into his new rare card.

Rowan his closed his eyes and finalized his choice.

What? This doesn’t feel right at all.

The system worked so subtly that he was typically entirely unaware of what went into the process of card fusion. This time, however, Rowan could feel the flood of his own mana that surged out of his body and sank into the melting cards. It just didn’t sit right, somehow.

The light that surrounded them fluctuated and shook, shuttering on the very verge of explosion. Rowan knew that very second that his attempt to fuse the cards would fail.

He reached too far, and the cards were refusing to play nice.

And yet, in the middle of that floating sphere, he felt something. A presence that was so quiet, such a small part of his deck, that he didn’t even get any real feedback from it. A simple, quiet card that did its job, and did it well.

Without even meaning to, Rowan used every last bit of advice that Olivia gave him on their outing to reclaim the mana that the system had taken from him. As he did, his awareness of his class card surged.

It relished in blood, it yearned to spill it, it yearned to grow.

So, Rowan fed it every scrap of mana he had to let it do just that. And all throughout the process, he urged his mana to calm, to coalesce, to forcefully seize the cards that were fighting the process of getting ground down and integrated into his own.

He imagined all the different ways they could strengthen and contribute to the fusion, and Blood Siphon listened.

The cards reached out too. One by one, bolstered by their unified strength, their individual cries harmonized into one. The fusion devoured every scrap of power it needed to succeed.

Rowan slowly opened his eyes, unsure of what he was seeing. A blue hue came into focus, as a card drifted in front of him, gently laying itself to rest on something…fluffy? He wiped the bleariness from his eyes, and the blood he saw on his hands shook him completely out of his delirium. It seemed that in his efforts to merge the cards, he’d passed out onto the carpet, blood dripping from his nose. He must have fallen right out of his chair

“We’re not doing that again, okay?” Rowan groaned to no one in particular as he pulled himself to his feet, staggering and shaking like a newborn calf.

In spite of that, he couldn’t help but feel that the results were worth it.

[Class] Scarlet Flood (Rare, Passive)

Every wound you inflict is much deeper and wider than it should be, and will severely drain your enemies of their life blood. The cursed nature of your strikes ensure continual bleeding, the severity of which is directly proportional to the amount of damage dealt.

Rowan loved it, especially loved the ‘severely’ part. The system didn’t mess around, so for something to get flagged with those words it had to be impressive.

Of course, that left him with another jump he needed to make.

“I swear, if the process goes as poorly as it did this time, I’m letting it fail. I really don’t think I can stop an epic tier fusion from blowing up in my face,” Rowan grumbled as he awkwardly wiped blood from his face, but the pulse of understanding he got from the card he’d yet to banish back to his deck made him pause.

Exploring the mystical bond he seemed to have with his deck, Rowan blinked in both surprise and confusion.

More than any other card he possessed, more than even the epic tiers, Scarlet Flood felt both aware and like a true part of him. The conflict between the two traits should have sent him mind reeling, yet he understood and accepted it as par for the course.

It felt like a part of him, as if some deep, primordial part of his core personality had come awake and now dwelled within his chest. Unfortunately, it wasn’t a good discovery. That piece of Rowan had an urge to stab things to death and then watch them bleed out. Rowan grimaced, pushing down his discomfort.

“I’m really gonna need a therapist when this is all settled.”

Rowan’s card selection for upgrading Scarlet Flood to epic was better, and he didn’t need to struggle nearly as much to come up with a final list. If anything, he was impatient for this mana to refill out of an abundance caution.

At long last, though, the moment was there.

Do you want to fuse [Class] Scarlet Flood (Rare, Passive) with the following cards:

Aura of Devouring (Common, Passive) x3

Draining Assault (Common, Active) x2

Bloodhound Spear (Common, Passive) x4

Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel.

Y/N

The thrum of power, of sheer potential, threatened to make Rowan lose his seat again. He felt the card suck him in, and he witnessed as it hunted each of its future constituents down with ruthless efficiency.

If there was ever any doubt that the fusion would succeed, it disappeared within moments of triggering it.

When the slaughter was over and his new card hovered in front of him, Rowan felt a faint amount of awe.

[Class] Scarlet Envy (Epic, Passive)

Your blows are the heralds of a scarlet flood. You thirst for the power trapped within the blood of your victim, and you can now claim it. When your weapon causes a wound, you can channel your mana into increasing the severity of their blood loss.

Rowan had noticed a curious tendency as the tiers of his class and cards continued to climb. Both the verbosity of his cards’ description as well as their vagueness grew right alongside their power.

His heart card’s description was vague from the start, and the epic tier classes all had more spiritual and mystical allusions than they did actual, useful information. There was enough detail to make a solid selection, but beyond that, he was left with a lot of guesswork.

In spite of that, he knew exactly how his new card was supposed to work. The second it coalesced and became part of his deck, his awareness exploded beyond the confines of his body.

He was aware of the servants hurrying down the hall outside of his room. He could sense the twins in their rooms, bent over their own decks. He could even, spiraling down the connection with his knights, sense them, too.

Rowan could do all this because he could feel the blood coursing through their bodies.

He knew that the second his spear left a nick on their skin, he could coax the blood out, draw it to him, and devour it until it empowered him instead.

Rowan let out a shuddering breath and banished the card to his deck. He swiped his eyes over the collection of cards he now owned, and felt a tiny bit worried.

He did, after all, own two cards with direct allusions to deadly sins.

Deck (6/6):

* [Heart] Keen Spear (Epic, Passive)

* [Class] Knight Designation (Epic, Passive)

* [Class] The Grim Spear (Epic, Active)

* [Class] Scarlet Envy (Epic, Passive)

* Natural Renewal (Epic, Active)

* Gluttonous Banquet (Epic, Passive)

“Are we the baddies now?” Rowan chuckled, whispering the words under his breath as he scanned the list again and again.

If he was being fully honest with himself, it didn’t bother him all that much. He was perfectly willing to leave the blatant heroics to his best friend. He wanted to do only one job, and the purpose he was summoned for would finally be complete.

Then, he’d have a whole life to live at his leisure — provided he put a stop to whatever plotting was going on in the kingdom, of course.

—

Rowan found Blake exactly where he expected the other hero to be: in the training yard.

The grim determination and hurry to reclaim his power had left Blake’s features, leaving behind a dazzling smile and a surety that reinforced every motion of his body.

The trio of [Knights] Rowan expected to find were there too. They’d been all but adopted by the other hero, and Rowan couldn’t find it in himself to be upset when Blake was finally making sincere friends in their new world.

The person Rowan wasn’t expecting to find there, however, was Bron.

“You’re doing so well now, mister hero!” the baron’s officer taunted as he smoothly glided out of the way of Blake’s sword, flicking his own just so to make Blake’s weapon ring and almost jump out of his hands. “But you need to do better.”

“It’s not my fault that you’re so slippery!” Blake quipped right back, easily recovering the stability of his stance and going right back to his attempt at skewering the spry older man.

A part of Rowan felt amused. Another part of him wanted to slap both of them upside the head and send Bron back inside and into a bed, where he belonged.

The older man had yet to recover from his use of Olivia’s potion. His limbs were covered in bandages as tight as a mummy’s, and Rowan knew for a fact that even light activity hurt him. The potion had burned both his skin and muscles away. And while the skin had recovered fairly quickly, the muscles had only just recently grown back before their arrival at Rest’s Remorse.

Yet there he was, sparring with Blake and taunting the hero like a man half his age. Some days, Rowan felt like he was trying to herd a bunch of cats.

He followed the walls of the workout space, all the way around, until he reached the benches where Blake’s party members sat and watched. “What is going on here, exactly?”

“What does it look like?” the de Vort snorted daintily and rolled her eyes. Rowan would have been upset, if his limited interactions with the woman didn’t teach him that she treated more or less anyone with that same level of disdain.

It made her relationship dynamic with Blake interesting. Especially when Rowan caught them kissing in an empty meeting room.

“Well, it looks like Blake it trying to skewer a half-cooked man who should be resting, and whom I consider a dear friend. Or am I missing something?” Rowan snarked right back, earning a small smile from the woman.

“No, you’re right. Though shorty here’s got them covered, so don’t you worry.” She plopped her hand down on the head of the Treagon scion, who was, in fact, much shorter than her own considerable height.

It was then that Rowan finally noticed the subtle blue sheen that covered the bodies of the people sparring, both Bron and Rowan as well as the [Knights]. Granted, the latter were mostly swinging their weapons absent-mindedly while watching the other two spar. Rowan resolved to scold them later.

“And whose idea was this, from the start? Bron should really be resting, that stubborn old fool,” Rowan asked.

“Bron’s, actually. Even before the trip, he tracked down Blake while he was training to restore his class. He’s been helping him with swordsmanship ever since.”

As Rowan examined his best friend a little closer, he was starting to see it. There was a trace of the style that the baron’s troops seemed to favor. It wasn’t quite matching up to anything coherent enough to be called a school of swordsmanship, but it was there.

I’m going to have to thank Bron later.

The two finally wound down their practice, with Bron scoring one final point against Blake. On the other hand, Blake hadn’t even managed to touch the officer a single time.

Of course, while Bron was likely pushing himself more than he should have been, Blake was holding back. With his return to Epic tier, the chances of Bron winning a fight against the other hero were low, even if the baron’s officer was back to peak form.

Rowan was still caught between disbelief and mild envy over Blake’s new class.

[Flawless Beacon of Radiance]

You have reforged your Light so that it may shine upon all and guide them to a better tomorrow.

You have earned a fragmented portfolio of [Freedom].

You have earned a fragmented portfolio of [Radiance].

That was all that Blake had shared about his new class, and that most of its other effects were similar to what he had before. In spite of that, the mention of portfolios made Rowan pay attention.

He still didn’t know exactly what those entailed. However, every mention he’d heard of them came in the context of the divine. It was also important to note that the description of Blake’s class no longer explicitly mentioned Sarina.

The bond between the hero and the goddess was not gone.

The second Blake got his new class, Rowan felt a connection bloom between his friend and something inhuman, something completely alien. It radiated energy directly into Blake’s soul, almost threatening to sever the link Rowan’s class had wrought.

The link held.

Rowan endured as he felt the alien’s feelings slipping through, nudges and impressions that the goddess was sending Blake’s way. The Stalwart Hero had worked long and hard to properly isolate himself from the emotions of his [Knights]. Yet, the goddess’ attention threatened to burn right through his effort.

Even when he was doing his best to block it all out, he could feel her lurking. The only fix to the issue seemed to be distance, seeing as it muted all impressions he got from [Knights] until they were near entirely gone when he ventured far enough from them.

Blake, of course, was ecstatic. The return of his goddess had as much to do with his good mood as his ascension back to epic.

In spite of that, Rowan was glad to feel a thread of doubt and suspicious inside of his friend’s heart. He was willing to embrace his goddess, even trust her, but all the revelations about the king and the hostility of their new world had finally put him on guard.

Frankly, that was all that Rowan could really hope for. Blake wasn’t someone who would just break away from the goddess on Rowan’s suspicion, no matter how much the Stalwart Hero suspected the gods of scheming something.

If the goddess did try to get him to do something egregious, Blake might hesitate now and think for himself.

“Rowan! When did you get here?” Blake’s voice tore him away from brooding, making Rowan genuinely smile.

“Oh, he’s been chatting with your ladies for a while now. I understand that you prefer to focus on your training, but you really should work on your awareness too lad,” Bron mocked softly, even as he quickly made his way over to a bench.

The old officer sat down and the blue glow vanished from where it clung to him. The baron’s officer practically collapsed, as his vigor seemed to leave him all at once.

“You know, I’m extremely grateful that you’re helping Blake. I really am. But are you telling me that you won’t pass out if I poke you right now?” Rowan teased, making his way over to Bron quickly.

Surprisingly, Blake was looking at the man with pity but didn’t make a single move to help. Bron waved away a potion when Rowan pulled one out of his pouch.

“Those won’t help me much, lad. You know this. I’m going to have to heal slow and steady, like all the regular folk get to do. No fancy healing for me.”

“We haven’t had a chance to chat much. The baron mentioned trying, and failing, to help you heal,” Rowan ventured, taking a seat next to Bron. Blake joined them a moment later, sitting on the other side of the officer.

“Aye. The baron really did try his best. Nothing works, though, and neither of us wanted to make a trip to one of the bigger temples to see if they could do something, either. Honestly, the closest anyone’s gotten to helping me is the lady here.” He motioned to the Treagon, some conflict obvious in his voice.

The girl flushed and looked away, muttering something about doing her part to help Blake train.

“Thank you for toughing it out for me. Really. I… haven’t had many people do that sort of thing for me,” Blake admitted quietly, toying with his sword and checking over its blade as he did.

Rowan felt embarrassment and genuine, bone-deep affection for the officer coming from the bond he had with his best friend. Rowan didn’t doubt for a second that if Bron just asked, Blake would rush headlong into stupid amounts of danger.

“Don’t mention it, lad. I was curious about what a friend of Rowan’s would be like. I have to say, you didn’t disappoint. You have a genuinely good heart. I hope you manage to keep it. Now, Rowan, walk with me? I’d like to have a quick chat, before you run away into the wastes again.”

Rowan rolled his eyes and grumbled, but he complied. Bron didn’t put up too much of a fight when he insisted on helping the officer make his way back into the manor, a tremble in his limbs betraying the exhaustion and weakness he felt.

“You know, I really do think he’s alright,” Bron began the moment they were out of earshot, shooting Rowan a smile. “Didn’t know what to make of him, at first, but he really is the knight in shining armor stereotype. He’s not just pretending.”

“He’s not,” Rowan said softly, patting the officer on the back. “Blake’s good people. Just a little… self-destructive.”

“Noticed that, too.” There was silence for several moments, as they just focused on reaching their goal. “I want to ask you for a favor, lad,” Bron said at long last, voice serious enough for Rowan to pause and look him in the eye.

“Just say it, old man.”

The old man scoffed, shaking his head. “Younguns these days. Anyway, I’d like you to make me your [Knight].”

Of all the things Rowan expected the man to say, that wasn’t one of them. “You do know what that entails, right? All the details?”

“Yes. The baron explained it to me.”

“And you know that it’s unlikely to actually help you?”

“Yes. The potion effect isn’t gone. Any healing and regeneration effects I could get from your card wouldn’t work.”

“Then why?”

“Because, Rowan, I don’t think you’re making the best possible use of your class.” Bron’s voice was earnest and dire.

“Explain.”

“Has anyone tried to claim the card your class gave you? Or did they just immediately snatch up whatever card could help them fight better, or survive?”

That did the job of silencing the hero. Technically, there was nothing in his class or card description hinting that people couldn’t pick his Knight Designation card, and get some [Knights] of their own. However, Rowan was reluctant to experiment.

Not only would the person making that choice have to take the risk of giving up an actually useful epic card in favor of one that might not even work, the hero had no idea of what would happen if the card did work and he was eventually forced to cancel his [Knight] designation for whatever reason.

Would the whole string of [Knights] collapse outright? Would the links remain? There was far too much vagueness to the whole thing to risk it.

“I don’t think refusing to take risks is a bad approach to system mechanics you don’t fully understand, Bron.”

“True. But you have a person willing to experiment right here. I can’t benefit from the other cards you have until I recover, and that might take… years, at least. If this works out, I can get some experience myself, and who knows? More stats might speed up my recovery.”

“I don’t know…”

“What do you have to lose? I’m pretty high up the rare ranks, so the stats you get won’t be bad. Besides, I think you’ll get a… pleasant surprise, if you do pick me,” the man promised with a crooked grin, refusing to elaborate further.

“Fine,” Rowan agreed just as they made it back into the manor and sent his invitation. And Bron accepted, betting his future and dreams on a chance.

As he did, and the bond formed, a fire bloomed inside of the Stalwart Hero’s chest. “Oh, you ass!”

Rowan gritted his teeth in pain as the system ruthlessly modified his body. By the time the process was over, Rowan was covered in sweat, and Bron was the one holding him up. The baron’s officer had a shit-eating grin, mirth shining in his eyes.

“Doesn’t feel great, does it?”

“I’m going to punch you the second I feel better. Also… thank you,” the hero added quietly, a smile tugging at his own lips as he spared a glance at his status.

—

The preparations were finally done. The soldiers were armed, outfitted, and ready. The two hero parties were as well-prepared as they could possibly get. Rowan had even given out the leftover cards they had after their upgrades, giving his men one final boost before the time to march came.

The Mercenary King and Tamara were both present too, ready to join the Legendary Expeditions.

Rowan found the moniker ridiculous, but he couldn’t do much to stifle the mutters of his men and most of the town when it got out that they were planning to finally take the fight to the demons.

“I put my trust in you, in each and every one of you. I trust you to have my back. I trust you to protect your comrades in arms. I trust you, to give everything to our cause. Because that is the only way for us to triumph.”

Rowan’s voice boomed out over the gathered crowd. Over a thousand men and women, all ready to follow him into battle.

“I refuse to contemplate the chance of failure. So, when we return, we’ll do so as heroes. And those of us who may perish in our quest, know that I will make sure your loved ones are safe and happy. Your families will never want for anything again. Now, march!”

To the hollers of approval and applause, Rowan motioned for the Mercenary King to trigger his cards. In a few minutes, the army led by two heroes ventured forth from Rest’s Remorse, intent on slaughtering the four generals of the demon king.