「 Achievement: Dungeon Visitor
Tier: D
Reward: +12 stat points
You stayed inside a dungeon for 3 local years without leaving!
Your hatred for the enemies of all existence knows only one bound: your cold heart. You breathe the corrupted air of your foe, dungeons, but it's for a greater cause. By staying inside, you train your body and mind, preparing yourself for the day you'll sweep through the world with unopposed glory to clear it of all monsters. You will obliterate all your enemies on your way to your grand fate. 」
Arthur received the achievement with a bittersweet smile.
He had been inside for three years. Over a week had already passed outside. His people were dying, and what did he have to show for it?
He pushed the 12 points from the achievement into efflux and opened his stats window.
「 Stats
Level: 16
Next level: 12.876%
Available points: 0
Body:
- Strength: 100
- Agility: 110
- Vitality: 500
Mind:
- Perception: 200
- Intelligence: 500
- Wisdom: 500
Mana:
- Absorption: 500
- Magnitude: 500
- Efflux: 618 」
Level 16. He was still level 16, and only seven years remained until the deadline.
Could he really reach level 100 by then?
Theoretically, yes. He had improved a lot in the year and a half since he started killing. But could he keep that pace? Even his father had stopped at level 81 after using all the extension stones he could.
Did Arthur really think he could surpass the greatest king to have ever lived?
A sweet voice woke him up from his depressive musings, "Are you thinking about the Dungeon Visitor achievement, Your Highness?"
He turned to Sophie. The girl had gotten over the birthday episode and become a pleasant conversationalist.
It helped that Tamara and Graham had started teaching both of them about culture, life, and stuff. The prince had learned not to blush when he heard certain words or talked about certain subjects, but he and the junior maid had an unspoken agreement never to mention some things outside the embarrassing classes. They also made sure not to make eye contact during those lessons.
Just like warriors got closer to the one they fought together with, Arthur and Sophie found companionship in surviving those awkward moments.
"I'm thinking about the achievement, yes," he admitted with a sigh. "Three years already. I'm afraid Stinson was right. I'll disappoint everyone."
"I believe in you, Your Highness," she smiled beautifully. "We all do. You can do it."
She wasn't just trying to comfort him; she believed in what she was saying. He could see it in her eyes and body. One of the things Tamara taught them was how to read people's intentions by analyzing multiple things like posture, where they were looking, the size of their irises, their facial expressions, and their heartbeats—200 points of perception allowed Arthur to hear other people's hearts.
Granted, Tamara also taught them how to fake honesty—an ability needed for both kings and maids, it seemed—but warned Sophie never to use it against her master. A maid should never lie to her master.
Not that Tamara did that herself, as Arthur had found out.
Improving his magic and killing skills required a lot of focus, but he also had some free time. He often talked to Sophie, but sometimes he just wanted some quiet and peace.
He almost always took out his Locket of Everlasting Memories and reminisced about the past while looking at Charlotte and his parents. He missed them. He wondered how close his sister was to being born and recalled his childhood adventures.
It was on one of those days that he suddenly realized something. The next morning, he questioned Tamara, "Did you always lie to me?"
Tamara's eyes opened wide. "Your Highness?!"
"I know two very stupid people, Tamara. Carl and I. But even I eventually guessed that you were the one making some of my clothes itchy when I behaved poorly. They never itched when you weren't nearby!"
Her panic turned into understanding, then an amused chuckle as she said she was sorry.
However, right now, Arthur couldn't waste time thinking about the past. He shook his head to get rid of his feelings of inadequacy. Maybe he would fail in the end, but he owed his people to at least try his best.
"Whenever you're ready, milord," Graham said impatiently.
The prince nodded, double-checked his equipment—especially the new addition, the black cape with multiple pockets—and stepped into the next room.
It was a vast swamp filled with hundreds of tall and thick brown creatures that looked like a fat ogre had mated with a tree. The trolls wore no armor, only leaves as clothing, but their skin was as thick and resistant as steel. They were at least four times Arthur's height, seven times his armored width, wielded big wooden clothes, and liked to throw huge stones at him.
Arthur focused on the ten swords flying above him as he moved into the cave chamber and swiftly created ten spells, one around each blade. He had a lot of practice, a quick mind, and great mana control. He was done within seconds.
He had expected it to take exactly that long when he started inscribing the spells; it was a time variable that he had to add to his estimates of where the enemy would be when the swords were sent flying. He also calculated the spell's acceleration and speed and the enemy's enemy's speed and movement pattern. It was all very demanding, and he doubted an unawakened could do it.
After all the spells were prepared, he cut his intent string.
The spells activated, and the blades shot ahead like amazingly fast bolts. He didn't follow. Instead, he unsheathed his longsword and waited.
His projectiles hit nine out of the ten targets he had aimed at—one of the monsters changed directions at the last second. The metal pierced nine trolls' bellies to the hilt. The injured monsters didn't seem to mind it at all and roared angrily while running at him, making the ground tremble under their weight.
A dozen trolls threw huge stones at him, each at least three times his height. Half of them hit each other mid-air and stopped being a threat, but he had to watch out for the others. Three weren't aimed straight at him, but at his surroundings, in case he tried to dodge, while the remaining three came straight at him.
The stones were big and fast. Those were level 13 monsters with a physical build, after all. Even with his 200 points of perception, the flying boulders were only blurs. Without his prior training, they would kill him easily.
He had trained, though.
Arthur magically prehended the metal in the longsword in his hands and willed it to become lighter, much more resistant, and much sharper. Mana poured into the weapon, and nature bent to his will.
He jumped diagonally, getting perfectly perpendicular to the first incoming rock's direction vector, and thrust his sword ahead.
His blade pierced stone like melting metal on snow. The longsword was much smaller than its target, but he greatly increased the damage by rotating his body during his jump. Moments later, he was through the rock.
He used magic prehension on his armor to keep himself spinning and steer himself to face the second rock. He would go through it just like the first. His plan worked; he did get through to the other side.
However, he had forgotten to consider his acceleration. He hadn't jumped this time, so his momentum, which had decreased after the first stone, couldn't counter the second stone's.
Arthur was pushed back and downward, forced to return to the ground. He was left unbalanced and out of position, and another incoming stone—one aimed at his original position's surroundings, in case he dodged—was almost upon him. There was no time to jump again.
So, he activated his Telepathy and slapped the huge boulders sideways with the power of his mind stats.
The second stone's pushback had been so strong that the prince found himself back in the room he had come from. It didn't mean he was safe; the monsters wouldn't stick to the chamber they lived in. He had attacked, so they would follow him to the dungeon's entrance if needed.
Graham, who had been staying beside Arthur, had seen the prince get pushed and was already holding Tamara and Sophie over his shoulders while running away from the fight.
The prince deactivated his Telepathy—a weighted skill—and prepared himself for the incoming trolls. His small size, when compared to theirs, was both good and bad. Bad because his small weapons were only lethal if perfectly used. Good because fewer enemies could attack him at close range, so the trolls created living barriers to protect him from the hurling stones.
The first three to approach had his swords embedded in them. Arthur prehended each weapon in quick succession and willed their metal to explode.
The shrapnel ravaged the monsters' bodies, and they fell dead.
Unfortunately, only two of the following four approaching monsters had been struck by his swords. They died the same way, and Arthur focused on the remaining two.
The trolls wielded big wooden logs as clubs. His light, resistant, sharp sword easily cut through the wood. Such sharpness was the only thing keeping him from getting hammered down by the things that weighed much more than him and were wielded by much stronger and faster beings. He sidestepped and sliced small parts of the clubs away to make his position safe—if only barely so.
The ground shook under the running trolls' weight and the power of their attacks. The sliced logs splintered when they hit the ground with a fury, and only Arthur's armor kept him alive.
The monsters' hide weren't as strong as his armor, but it wasn't too far. The flying blades he had used as projectiles had only pierced the monsters' bellies because of the speed his spell added to the metal. Now, he had to do something similar to his prehended longsword if he wanted to damage the trolls.
The issue was ensuring he didn't miss. He could make his sword accelerate considerably in a direction for a split second, but it was so fast that even his perception, aided by skills, couldn't fully follow it, much less his body. He would be out of balance for a moment.
So, he kept fighting defensively until he saw the opportunity to jump and cut. Simultaneously, he used prehension to enact his plan.
The blade swung way too fast in a perfect arc.
It pierced the monster's skin and skull and came clear on the other side, leaving a line of damage on the way.
The troll's brain was at least three times the size of the prince's longsword, so the weapon couldn't completely ravage its target. Fortunately, the monster was mostly a biological creature. The brain damage was enough to take it out of the fight as it fell.
Arthur swore. He had missed. Trolls only died of brain damage if it was in a specific spot. The monster would now merely stay down for about a minute, then return, fully healed, to the battlefield.
He ignored his failure and kept fighting. He easily killed the other five trolls with swords embedded in their bodies. However, his physical combat capabilities were only good enough to finish thirty other enemies before he felt his mana reserves fall to about half.
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Arthur swore again. His main goal in this battle was to perfect his close-range battle mage abilities, but he had obviously failed.
Now, he'd rather survive to try again another day than die from stubbornness.
The prince extended his intent string further from his sword and into one of his cape's pockets. He took dozens of thumb-sized metal spheres from the inside and kept them floating a couple yards above the nearby trolls.
He fought defensively while sneakily moving ball after ball toward the monsters' faces. The trolls were too big and had trouble noticing or slapping the tiny things away. They also lacked defensive magic, and Arthur could quickly move the spheres around.
There was no issue making ball after ball shoot into the monsters' eyes, pierce their brain, and explode inside.
Annihilation ensued.
| Progression to Level 17: +0.001% → 12.877%
He had solo-killed hundreds of monsters, yet such a feat barely helped his level progress because they were three levels below his.
Arthur felt annoyed the most with his body. He hadn't failed to kill the monsters with his longsword because his mind or magic were lacking. He had found the perfect moment to jump and swing his sword against the trolls' skulls. However, his physical abilities couldn't keep up with his mental calculations.
The prince sheathed his blade. There was no need to clear it; monster blood also turned into mana when they died.
"Why do I even need to do this?" he asked Graham, who had returned right after dropping the maids at the boundary to the previous room.
"You'll eventually surpass my level on your way to level 100, Prince Boria," the knight explained. "When that happens, you'll often find yourself fighting enemies much stronger than me. You must learn how to take advantage of everything you have if they bypass your magic and get close to you."
"Can't I learn it after I grow stronger?" Arthur insisted as he moved toward the countless metal fragments in the room. The shards were left behind as the monsters disappeared. "I'll have more skills then."
"It's better to progressively learn how to make the most out of your every skill, sire. A few at a time. Even an awakener's mind might get overwhelmed by too many options. Having the right skills isn't enough; you must also use them perfectly, or it would just be a waste of a slot."
The prince knew that.
He still sighed in frustration.
Arthur magically prehended the metal fragments on the ground and passed them to Graham. The knight waited until he had enough pieces and used a skill to melt them down. Then, Arthur Telepathically turned the molten metal into brand-new spheres. After they cooled down, he put them back into his cape's pockets.
The swords were more troublesome due to their size. He had to use his Hyperfocus to guarantee the molten metal kept the right form while cooling down.
He soon recovered his metal balls and swords and sat down to consider how to improve. That was another thing Graham had Arthur do alone as training for the future. After the prince surpassed the knight, the latter wouldn't be able to analyze some high-level battles.
Arthur didn't take long to conclude his path to self-improvement involved lowering his expectations instead of feeling frustrated that they weren't met. He had to understand his body's limits better and not confuse them with what he knew he could do with his mind or magic. While his low physical stats were limiting, he could do much more if he stopped disregarding them and used them efficiently instead.
Arthur eventually stood up and trained his body to better understand it while his mana reserves recovered. Then, he moved to the next dungeon room.
The new cave chamber was another swap of the same size, except the trolls were level 14 instead of 13, and twice as many.
The prince clenched his jaw and promised himself he wouldn't be so pathetic this time.
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The enormous claw pinning Arthur to the wall turned into mana, and the prince fell ten feet with a thud. He had no physical energy to keep his bloodied, battered body sitting up after it struck the floor, but he prehended what remained of his torn armor to save him some dignity.
| Progression to Level 26: +0.002 → 7.115%
The thousands of level 23 giant fiend moles in the cave chamber were all dead, turning into mana. The prince had triumphed over them in the end. Yet, he felt only regret as he watched matter turn into mana and waited for the Self-Healing Surge to heal him a little.
The issue was that the damage to his body was too extensive. His internal organs were bleeding, his skin torn open, and multiple bones broken. He would need a healing potion and some days on the bed.
He prehended his helmet and removed it in advance. Graham was already coming and would feed him the potion.
An achievement proved how close he had come to death.
「 Achievement: Survivor
Tier: D
Reward: +12 stat points
You survived on the brink of death 10 times!
Some people think there's an easy way to greatness, but you know better. Only by facing death multiple times can you genuinely progress. Many die in pursuit of a grand fate, but you'll let nothing stop you from achieving it, not even death itself. 」
After almost dying ten times, he got a D-tier achievement. It was definitely not worth it. He hoped he never learned if there was any achievement for almost dying more times than that.
He added the 12 stat points to absorption, bringing it to 919.
Efflux had long reached 1,000 points, and he had gotten the Multicaster trait. He now had three intent strings, and the trait made using all three only as difficult as using one.
It was truly magical.
Moreover, he had also learned that all traits' effects made a huge leap when they increased from 1-9 to 2-1—which happened when their related stat went from 900 to 1,000 points. Efflux's first trait, Mana Reach, had tripled how far his mana could reach. His Improved Mana Reach skill further aided it, increasing his reach to an impressive 159-yard range, triple the 53 yards from 1-9.
All that should've made it easy for him to deal with the three thousand giant moles with oversized claws and jaws. Yet, here he was. Almost dead.
Graham finally arrived. He wordlessly took a glass vial with shining white liquid from his spatial storage, uncorked it, and emptied the contents in Arthur's mouth.
The prince also kept his silence. Both knew what a failure he was. There was no need to complain or rub it on his face.
He closed his eyes and waited for his body to heal.
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Whenever Arthur's injuries were bone-deep, Tamara set up camp. According to her, while his Self-Healing Surge and a potion perfectly healed him, the new tissue was still fragile. His 500 points of vitality meant his body needed exactly three days to strengthen the healed area.
"You're an awakener, Your Highness, not immortal," she always reminded him.
This time, the bedridden prince wasn't in the mood to study more magic. He also didn't dare to look at Charlotte's portrait; he was too weak to deserve the privilege. He only stared at the ceiling and waited to return to the battlefield.
Five years.
He had already been in the dungeon for over five years.
He was level 24, almost one quarter to the final goal, but his leveling-up speed had significantly decreased in the past six months.
Even if he survived the next five years, he would still fail to reach level 100. And when he left, he would be twice a failure: below the target level and a lousy warrior.
His weakness would shame his father and cal his kingdom's downfall.
Three days later, he stood up and left the building. He was ready to try to kill the moles again. Even though he hadn't studied magic in the past days, he had replayed his last battle in his mind over and over again. He knew how to crush the Fatedamned monsters this time.
What he found outside shocked him.
Graham was sitting on a log by a bonfire and not wearing any armor.
The knight also wasn't wearing the black and golden clothes of a grand knight in civic duties. He didn't even have any footwear on. Instead, his naked feet were dirty from the room's earth floor, his brown pants were rolled up to the knees, and he had an open white shirt with rolled-up sleeves.
Graham's body was well-built, but his face looked ancient, skinny, and weak. The little hair remaining on his head was white, and his skin was dried up and wrinkled. Even his brown eyes looked almost white.
Arthur had never seen an awakener look like that.
The man looked at Arthur, smiled fondly, and gestured for the prince to sit beside him. Arthur complied. He was shocked, though, and barely had enough presence of spirit to stop staring at the man and look at the fire instead.
Graham said nothing, his eyes lost as he also looked at the flames. Tamara and Sophie eventually joined the two men without a word, sitting opposite them on comfy armchairs that Tamara produced from her spatial storage.
Only then did Graham speak.
"Awakening is both a blessing and a curse, sire," he started. "Every single awakener is a weapon. Fate uses us against dungeons and monsters, but many of us consider such enemies mere grinding stones. Tools we might be, but not emotionless ones. We're alive and pursue different goals. That makes us all dangerous to the powers that be."
He sighed deeply before continuing, "Half-monsters who show pleasure when they first use their innate powers are killed. So are awakeners who can't be controlled. My wife hated it, but I accepted it as the way of the world. Even she agreed that without order, if awakeners were free to do whatever pleased them, there would be only chaos and death everywhere. She insisted that there must be a solution that doesn't involve those in power deciding the fate of everyone below, but her anarchistic thoughts were nothing but a side-effect of her love for me. New power will always fill any vacuum. Killing a tyrant without bringing order to the survivors would only see the next tyrant rise soon enough. Even if all awakeners decided to unite to guarantee no living being could harm another, it would still be a form of control, united and for good as it might be. They would still need to imprison or kill the perpetrators. Everlasting harmony is nothing but a fleeting dream."
Arthur nodded.
They had already discussed forms of government and agreed that the republic designed by the Southern barbarians couldn't work. The nation's leader and their defense forces had to be the strongest power in the country. Otherwise, a mighty ill-intentioned awakener would eventually try to seize power and succeed. It was that simple.
Not that republics would be perfect even if they could exist with only the unawakened. Foremost among their issues was that they rewarded immorality. Whoever was willing to do whatever it took to grasp and hold power would have advantages over those who didn't. Even if such attempts were stopped thousands of times, someone would succeed one day and bring more of their own to their circle of power. Henceforth, they would use the government or parts of it as their own and live above all others like untouchable kings—intrinsically corrupt ones.
A benign and fair king was still the best option, also because it was more stable. More importantly, it was the only feasible one. Awakeners were needed in any nation to prevent dungeons from overflowing and their monsters from destroying the world.
So, the prince didn't understand why the man was talking about controlling awakeners again.
Graham's following words explained it. "Milord, the day I started dating a half-vampire, I had to give up on ever going past 200 points of vitality until the day she died. Those are the rules. Vitality makes the blood stronger, and the stronger the blood, the less a half-vampire must accidentally consume to rekindle their monster bloodline. If my blood got too powerful, it might accidentally rekindle her vampire blood. For instance, I might get injured and bleed over her. Half-vampires absorb blood through their skin and can't control it. Also, if I ever assisted her in rekindling her vampire bloodline, it would be better to start with weak blood because she would need to consume progressively more powerful blood to keep the bloodlust at bay."
Arthur still couldn't see where it was going.
The grand knight wasn't done. "I don't blame the League for such rules. I know better than many that love is dangerous; it can make even the wisest among us act like a fool. My wife's father is an example, and so I am. If I had had enough vitality to 'accidentally' rekindle her when she got cursed and thus save her, I would rather have seen the Golden Kingdom burn than witness her death. I didn't have it, but I was still ready to sacrifice myself for her; if she willingly drank from me to the last drop, killing me, her vampire bloodline would've gotten rekindled regardless of my vitality. Even an unawakened would suffice, and I offered to capture one for her, too. She wouldn't do either, so I suggested we go live in a dungeon where she could drink monsters. If she hadn't refused, I wouldn't be here. Maybe some of you also wouldn't."
The prince's heart clenched at those words. The part about capturing an unawakened was novelty, but not that Graham had been willing to rekindle Charlotte's vampire bloodline. It showcased how dangerous half-monsters or uncontrolled awakeners could be.
"You're probably wondering about my appearance, Your Highness. I look old because I am old. I have no more than twenty years remaining. I've been a knight for eighty years and a grand knight for fifty. I've lived through the vicissitudes of life and witnessed its wonders. I've loved and hated in equal measure." He sighed and turned to Arthur. "So, my prince, believe me when I say you're stepping on a path of no return."
The man's washed-out brown eyes seemed to stare into Arthur's soul. The prince quickly avoided his eyes.
"Resentment can breed nothing good, Prince Boria, even if aimed at your own self. Perhaps especially so. High mind stats make it harder for you to have psychological issues, but likewise, it makes it almost impossible to bring you back if you fall. Yes, fall. That's what such awakeners are called: the fallen. Head Maid Lauquenbur told me her magic can't heal your mind, not with your Mind Resistance skill. Only you can pull yourself out of your dark place."
At first, the prince frowned. He recalled feeling much worse than this in the past, back in the cruiser carriage.
Then, the grand knight's words started making sense.
Back then, he had been a level 1 child with low mind stats. Now, if he truly fell into depression and couldn't return to a healthy state of mind, he would never do anything for his kingdom. If he fell into obsession or madness instead... He might harm his people instead.
That's why Graham pointed out the issue as soon as he detected Arthur's brooding mood and irresponsible actions.
The grand knight looked at the cave chamber's ceiling as he said, "You're under a lot of pressure, sire, but as long as you do your best, there's nothing to worry about, regardless of the results. Everything will be alright, believe me. But if you break under that pressure..." He closed his eyes and sighed again. "The League requires any awakener to kill a fallen one, even their own masters, but what right do I have to enact judgment on you? I even failed to fall when I tried—twice.
"So, you can choose your future, milord. Would you rather leave this place as someone that would bring pride to my wife or as a calamity filled with resentment that can't be distinguished from a monster? Whatever you pick, I'll follow you. I just wish you make the decision yourself instead of being swept by your emotions. And if you decide I should die for betraying the League, my head is yours. No armor, magic, or skill will stop your blade."
Arthur stared at the monolithic man beside him.
Graham understood the need to limit his vitality for the greater good and believed in restricting awakeners' powers to avoid chaos. At the same time, he paradoxically was ready to go against it all for stronger convictions.
Was he right? Wrong? Maybe both?
Arthur felt wholly inadequate to judge, even more than with Sophie
More importantly, Graham's very existence was a slap to the prince's face.
Arthur felt terrible and weak, yet he was full of youth compared to the grand knight, who was already feeling death approach.
Arthur felt so self-righteous about his lacking ability, yet that man had been forced to see his wife die and do nothing. Graham could have extended her life in a dungeon if only she had come with him, but she had chosen the good of the world instead of her life. In a way, she had forced him to choose his life over hers. She had believed it was for his own good but left only an angry man behind.
A resentful man—and Graham had started this talk telling Arthur that resentment would bring nothing good.
Graham had sworn to destroy Fate if he didn't like what it had done to Charlotte after death. He had been full of pent-up anger and was ready to die for it. He had wanted to fall that day, just as he did when he planned to help Charlotte rekindle her monster blood.
But here he was.
He had been stopped by Charlotte in both cases. His vow to her bound him after her death as much as her care for him had done when she had been alive.
In a way, he was already a fallen awakener, except he was kept on a tight leash of love and vows.
Even now, he did his duty in stopping Arthur's own downfall while at the same time leaving the prince to decide what to do. He was ready to both save the Golden Kingdom and lash back at the world, whatever Arthur wanted. He didn't care. And like Sophie, he had asked for death, only in a roundabout way.
Arthur sighed and said the only thing he could, "Graham, Tamara, please, help me not stray from the right path. For Charlotte."
The half-monster had ironically been the best person Arthur had ever known. Despaired as Graham was, being bound by his wife's will made him a more honorable man.
The prince could only do the same.
Graham opened his eyes, and they looked hurt. The man both knew he had pushed the prince towards making the right choice and regretted it, for it meant he wouldn't find his desired release today, if ever.
"So be it," he said, stood up, and walked to his bedroom.
For a while, heavy silence befell the ones around the bonfire, broken only by the cracks of the flames.
Eventually, Tamara said softly, "It'll be my honor to assist you, Your Highness. Sophie, go clean something far from here. Your Highness, tell me, what ails you?"
The prince intertwined his hands before him, looked down again, and opened his heart to his maid. Anger, frustration, and fear found an outlet. Anxiety and pressure turned into tears that no grown man like him, much less a prince, should shed.
Weeks later, he discovered that while a few of his burdens were only his to bear, sharing the other ones with someone made them infinitely lighter.
It even helped him grow much closer to Sophie, as he had always wanted. Friendship, he learned, also required opening up to each other. While Tamara became a kind of guiding hand, Sophie and he found a unique type of support in each other.
It brought him great joy.