Chapter 346 - Hubris III

109833 - 2 - 1 - 5

Dear Diary,

I can’t believe I let that stupid pickpocket steal my diary! It took three whole weeks to track him down. Three! We’re not even in Fornestead anymore! I still remember how delicious the pies were, but it feels a bit too late to describe them.

We’re in Zarkaahn now. I’m still a little weirded out by the talking raccoons, but Lina thinks they’re cute. I really don’t see how.

Lia

___

Sylvia stretched her back and shook her head as the world around her slowly came into view. It was already evening. The setting sun hovered above the Cadrian capital, easily visible from the window that illuminated the extravagant classroom. Officially, she was a guest in the castle and Claire’s father had given her a pass to indicate said status. She had learned the hard way that forgetting it would get her attacked by those not yet in the know.

The identifier had proven itself especially handy on the first day, which she more or less spent wandering the castle’s grounds. She was unpleasantly surprised to find its residents sensitive to her magic. Even the pure warriors—the castle’s most mystically inept—would occasionally throw up their guards when they sensed her approach. It was a stark contrast to the treatment she had received among the Vel’khanese, not only because they detected her, but also because they respected her. After confirming that she was welcome, they would often bow their heads and even salute as she passed them by. Some of the more magically inclined went as far as to ask for duels and demonstrations, though the fox declined them each time.

It was precisely to escape the magical inquisition that the half-elf had retreated to Rubia’s side; she had followed her everywhere since the second day’s dawn. Another thirty-odd hours had passed since she made the desk into her temporary abode, during which time she had learned that Claire’s lessons were every bit as droll as the frosty longmoose had claimed. Most of her classes were centred around mathematics, history, magic, theology, and military strategy, the last of which unfortunately tied the other four together.

What annoyed Sylvia the most was the pointless complexity; the possible outcomes were discussed and analyzed in terms of probability, with different factors assigned seemingly arbitrary weights based on the historical record in question. The values were meant to represent the relative influences of the armies and champions, but they held little merit. Not only were they constantly in flux, they were often further distorted by unexpected factors. Sylvia had even spoken out to question the inconsistency, only to be informed by Rubia’s tutor that such was the nature of war.

Feeling less-than-inclined to believe the claim, the fox decided to close her eyes and sleep her way through the rest of the lessons. Most of her waking hours were spent at the dinner table. It couldn’t be helped. It wasn’t just the first night’s meal that had been ridiculously extravagant. The breakfasts, lunches, and dinners all eclipsed the Vel’khanese palace’s luxuries by far, even though the smaller country had easier access to the world’s best chefs.

The quality of the ingredients was what made up the difference. From asking around, she discovered that it was only grains, grasses, and other essentials that were grown with quantity as the main focus. The rest of their ingredients, and frankly even some of the grasses, had quality put first. The livestock they raised was given luxurious feed, filled to the brim with succulent fats, while the fruits and vegetables were selectively bred to generate the most delicious produce.

It was a surprisingly reasonable outcome. Centaurs and cottontails could subsist almost entirely on hay. There was no need for them to eat anything else, and most preferred the flavours of alfalfa and timothy over half-baked alternatives. Their demand for every other type of food stemmed almost exclusively from the gourmet and luxury markets. Thorae and lamias were nearly as common as rabbits and horses, but their habits were no different. The bee-ogres could live off honey and nectar alone, and the snake people were happy with whatever animals or monsters they happened to catch. The peasants among them often swallowed their meals whole without any regard for flavour.

Sylvia thought it was something of a miserable existence, but the people didn’t mind. After all, when they did splurge and buy themselves a treat, they could do so knowing that it was one of the most delicious the continent had to offer.

Mealtime aside, the half-elf only woke when Rubia was free from her obligations. The opportunities were surprisingly rare; tea breaks aside, she only really had an hour to herself each night. Otherwise, she was busy from dawn to dusk, taking lessons all throughout the day.

Sylvia would have been more inclined to stay awake had she not been wrought with worry. She couldn't help but check her mark once every few seconds just to make sure the lyrkress was still breathing. A god was not an easy opponent, no matter what the circumstances presented. Thankfully, her anxiety would soon come to an end. There were only ten-odd minutes left before her best friend's release. She could tell, not only from the sun’s position, but also from the delicious scent that wafted through the air; dinner would soon be coming.

Everyone else seemed more or less conscious of it as well. Rubia's theology tutor, an old centaur with glasses too big for her face, was constantly checking the clock and fighting back her stomach’s rumbles, while the homunculus herself was speeding through her classwork with all the vigour of a hungry wolf. Her quill danced across the page, inscribing verse after verse of the war goddess’ history without the slightest hint of error.

Normally, the verses would have been spoken aloud; being a poem, its meter and rhythm were as important as its contents, but the tutor didn’t have much of a choice. There was little she could do if the girl was too sick to speak. She did have some suspicions as to the illness’ nature, especially after the real Claire had given her an excuse and run off during one of her visits, but she knew better than to call it into question. She was nothing but a humble scholar who knew better than to stick her nose where it didn’t belong.

Despite her cautious approach, the woman was a decent educator. It only took her a few minutes to go over Rubia’s homework once it was submitted; she quickly returned it with the only mistake clearly circled and explained.

“Good work, Claire. That will be all for today.” The horse lady smiled and started packing up her bag. “It seems like you’ve fully internalized the epic of Korrork. I’ll bring new material for our next lesson.”

Rubia nodded.

“Then I will see you tomorrow afternoon,” she said, with a curtsy. “I bid you good evening. Please rest well. We will be studying a minor deity with a rather rich background, so do expect a rather dense lesson.”

The horse opened the door and stepped out, only for one of the maids to take her place without a moment’s delay.

“Dinner is ready,” said Beatrice. “Your father will be having you again tonight, so we’ll be making our way to his private dining hall.”

Nodding for a third time, Rubia stood up from her seat, tucked in her chair, and pulled the fox into her arms. Sylvia had no problem obliging, of course. She leaned right into the pseudo-halfbreed’s embrace and shifted around until she was decently comfortable.

The trip wasn't nearly as long as their first. Though the head maid remained cautious of the fox, she respected Virillius’ wishes and led them straight to his personal wing—not that it really would have mattered. Sylvia spent the whole journey contemplating the possibility that Claire would slip up right at the end. It sounded far more likely than not, given her nature.

Not even the beautiful spread that sat atop the table provided a decent enough distraction. Her mind continued racing, even as she sat down and put her mouth to work. That was likely the reason she didn’t pay much attention to what she was eating or how much of it there was; she didn’t stop until she ran out of food and found the meal’s other participants appalled. Rubia was silently blinking, staring at the piece of meat that had been vacuumed right off of her fork, while Virillius, who had only taken a few sips of his drink, breathed a sigh and got to his feet.

“I will request another set of portions as well as a new tablecloth and another set of utensils.” He briefly disappeared behind the door. He went straight to his seat when he returned and clasped his hands in front of him. “It will be another hour or so before everything is ready.” The moose glanced at the clock. “Claire will wrap up in exactly five minutes.”

“Can’t we just go pick her up early? You know, since she’s still alive?”

“The keys do not function while a trial is already in progress,” said Virillius. He drew his dagger, set it on the table, and pointed to the gem embedded into its guard. “This will light up when we are allowed to enter.”

“I can just break us in,” said Sylvia. “It’s not really that hard.”

“That would be ill-advised. All mortals within the trial ground’s boundaries are considered to be its participants,” said Virillius, “and the god’s ability scores are adjusted to be equal to the sum of all the challengers’. Entering the arena would only lead to a sudden increase in her opponent’s strength.”

Sylvia groaned. “Ughhh… what a pain.”

Virillius closed his eyes and slowly opened them back up. “All is as the goddess wills.”

“Yeah, but your goddess is boring. And a dumb slut,” said Sylvia. She covered her mouth with her paws as soon as she realized what she was saying, but it was too little, too late. The words had already been voiced.

She half expected the moose to fly into a rage, but his reaction amounted to little more than a shrug.

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“Though I cannot deny that she would benefit from learning some shame, I do believe that Vella is more intelligent than you’ve given her credit. Her mask is every bit as attentively constructed as my daughter’s, and her webs are more carefully woven. I would go as far as to say that Claire has already been caught.”

“Uhmmm… what do you mean?” asked Sylvia. “I’m pretty sure Claire said that she shot her down every time she tried anything.”

Virillius lowered his gaze and lightly tapped a finger against the table. “Do you know what Vella’s blessing is?”

“It’s pretty much the same as that one guy that likes math and magic a lot, isn’t it?”

“Correct. It doubles the amount of experience gained. Why do you think that is?”

“Is it because she wants wars to be unpredictable?” groaned the fox. “You know, so like some random guy can suddenly become a super strong champion or whatever?”

“That is half the reason, yes,” said Virillius.

“Then what’s the other half?”

Virillius frowned. “Rubia? I assume you’ve figured it out? Would you mind informing our guest?”

The homunculus bobbed her head up and down before getting out of her seat and punching the air. It was a bit of a cute gesture, but Sylvia wasn’t exactly sure what it was she was trying to say.

“I would rather you didn’t read her mind,” said Virillius, right before she cast the spell. “Let this be a hint for you to decipher. It’s only one piece of the puzzle, and I’ve no doubts you’ll be rather displeased when the rest of them fall into place.”

Sylvia puffed up her cheeks, but she eventually breathed a sigh and flopped onto the table. “Fine.”

“Now, I believe we’ve just about spoken for long enough.” The moose turned his eyes to the clock again before picking up his dagger and examining its gemstone. However, to both his and Sylvia’s confusion, the supposedly magical rock was still entirely devoid of light.

“Uhmmm… maybe we got the time wrong?” said the fox. “L-let’s wait a little more and see what happens."

Virillius slowly nodded his head. “I suppose we must.”

“Y-yeah. I bet you probably looked at the clock when you went, instead of when you came back. Let’s give it another five minutes.”

“Yes, let’s,” agreed the moose.

The pair waited in tense silence, while Rubia watched over them with a curious gaze. It was her first time seeing the king with a bead of sweat upon his brow. He was always much calmer, certainly in part because reality rarely deviated from his plans and predictions.

One by one, two by two, the seconds crawled by at an excruciating pace. Neither the fox nor the moose dared to blink as they counted from one to one thousand. Alas, there were no changes. The dagger never lit up, no matter how long they stared. Neither brought it up, however, and they remained unflinching even as the waitstaff entered the room and replaced the missing plates.

Time continued to tick. Rubia ate her meal, took her lesson, and even went to bed while the two aspects sat still as statues, not even daring to blink.

The servants were rather confused to find them still in the room the next morning, but deciding to pretend that nothing was wrong, they served breakfast without so much as speaking a word. It was only roughly twenty minutes later, after Rubia finished her portion, that the light finally came to life.

“S-see, I told you it’d be fine if we just waited a bit,” said Sylvia, who was clearly not nervous, sweating, or sleep-deprived.

“Of course. We do all make minor mistakes, from time to time,” said Virillius, who was very much in the same, perfectly comfortable boat. He moved a totally steady hand to the blade, but Sylvia was quicker. She made a portal right between them and jumped through without another thought. Seeing no reason not to follow suit, the king pocketed his weapon and ventured into the space beyond.

___

Why, exactly, was Victor Redleaf proclaimed the god of riven blades? Claire pondered the question as she parried his slashes. Five, seven, ten at a time, the branches came from all directions. She could barely keep track of the arm that held his sword, let alone follow the movements of every last weeping twig. She didn’t know how long it had been since the battle first started, but her stamina was running low. Her legs were tired, her circuits were shot, and her mind was running on fumes.

Though she hadn’t quite mastered the god’s technique, she did at least manage to learn his mindset. She was made keenly aware of exactly how he would disrupt her each time she prepared an action. The sense was more intuitive than logical, but it worked just fine either way. She danced around his wooden hands, locking him in a stalemate that lasted for as long as her consciousness had held.

Perhaps growing weary of the back and forth, the god eventually changed his pace.

And in doing so, answered the question floating through the back of her mind.

There was a sudden surge of divinity, followed by a bright red flash as his autumn leaves came crashing down upon her.

Their weapons should have been equal. Starrgort had proven himself a perfect match for the god’s cleaver. The few times the blades chipped, they did so together, cracking and repairing themselves in perfect tandem.

But all that was changed the moment he cast his ultimate.

He cut her sword right down the middle. Everything from its edge to its hilt was split perfectly in two. Her hand was the only thing that offered a hint of resistance. But not even it could hold before the power that embodied his concept. Her icy bones split open like logs and her fingers were easily removed.

He continued without delay and plunged his weapon towards her chest. It was still glowing, clad in the same ice-piercing cloak that had empowered it just a moment before, but the caldriess faced it head-on. Guarding with her cloven fist, she flung herself into his canopy and assumed her true form. Her body shot around his branches and locked them in a tight bundle. Every point of contact was used as a siphon, a conduit to rapidly drain his life, his mana, and even his divinity.

The only branches he could still use were lower on his body, but she bit them off as soon as he passed his sword over. She may have been stuck with his lousy strength, but the elf’s power still eclipsed his paper-thin defence. His wood meant nothing beneath the might of her jaws. He had no way of retaliating. The only damage he traded came from the splinters lodged between her teeth.

He tried turning into an elf to escape, but the move was too clearly telegraphed. She simply squeezed harder when the singing came to an end and stopped him in his tracks.

That was the end of that. Her strength was returned by the song’s non-presence; a simple squeeze—a loud crunch—broke all the bones in his tiny elven body.

Log Entry 850234

You have defeated the shadow of Victor Redleaf, God of Riven Blades, and returned his mind to its gaol.

This feat has earned you the following bonus rewards:

- 15000 points of dexterity

- 5000 points of spirit

- 5000 points of strength

Log Entry 850235

Achievement Unlocked - Godscourge I

You have bested a fettered god in combat. Rejoice, mortal. You have accomplished what few would dare to dream. You have become more divinely attuned. You are more resistant to the effects of hostile divine auras. Your divinity flows more readily, and its upper limit has increased by one hundred percent.

Log Entry 850236

You have levelled up. Your health and mana have been partially restored.

Your racial class, Caldriess, has reached level 517.

Your titular class, Witch of the Seventh Tempest, has reached level 7.

You have acquired 11996 ability points

Log Entry 850237

You have completed “Vella’s Call (1).”

You have been awarded 25000 points of divinity. Your ability score modifier has increased by 1%.

You have completed a hidden bonus objective.

You have unlocked the titular Willow in the Western Wind class.

Log Entry 850238

Your titular class, Witch of the Seventh Tempest, has cannibalized Willow in the Western Wind.

You have been granted limited administrator-level privileges to the coordinate and physics subsystems.

Log Entry 850239

The Vector Mastery, Vector Resistance, and Detect Vector Magic skills have been deemed obsolete and removed.

Claire idly listened to the goddess’ seemingly nostalgic voice as she collapsed onto her belly. She hadn’t even killed the god—the text clearly said otherwise—and yet, she gained levels hand over fist for the first time since her most recent ascension. The sense of accomplishment was great enough that she almost didn’t mind Flux’s curse.

Log Entry 850240

Cataclysm Convergence has reached level 213.

Surprisingly, she was not the only one to have survived the encounter. Starrgort, who she had assumed long dead, pieced his perfect halves right back together.

It was a bit of a disappointment. She wanted an excuse to call Boris, who was clearly superior in every which way, but at the same time, she found herself feeling pleasantly surprised. The spider was hardier than she assumed, and as her days in Alfred’s hellhole had taught her, more was always better. Unless there were too many and you literally stabbed yourself all over while you walked around.

Log Entry 850241

Weapon Mastery has reached level 193.

Stretching her tail, Claire returned to her humanoid form and flexed her freshly healed hand. It wasn’t the system that had healed her, of course. She had simply stolen everything she was missing during the elf’s brief capture.

She looked around the room after affirming that everything was in working order. She couldn’t quite tell how much time had passed, but it definitely wasn’t three days, and she was in a good mood, so she walked along the edges and examined the prisoners in turn. Surprisingly, the elf was back in his cell and fully intact, even though his lifeless body still lay within the ring. It was certainly a curious phenomenon, but Claire decided not to question it. She was far too busy perusing the war goddess’ wares to bother with something so insignificant.

There were all sorts of prisoners bound within the darkness. Creatures of all shapes and sizes, many of which she had never seen before. It was practically a zoo, albeit a strange one with its exhibits tied up and suspended in midair.

It was a shame that she couldn’t issue another challenge. She couldn’t even begin to imagine how boring it would be to sit around until her father returned.

The regret lingered until she reached into her chest and produced a familiar key. She almost wasn’t surprised when she discovered that it was a perfect fit.

After picking an opponent, a giant with the number 64 inscribed above his cell, she gave the phantasmagorical object a twist and initiated another challenge.

Log Entry 850242

You have received a quest - Vella’s Call (2)

Primary Objective: Survive the shadow of Korrork the Conqueror, Celestial of the Hungering Bolt for 72 hours.

Rewards:

- 25000 points of divinity

- A 1% modifier to all ability scores applied after all other calculations.