“Yes, but not the way you think. I’ll construct a skill book for you tonight while you heal. There are other things you’ll need to learn but I can see survival has become important to you. As a craft, Alchemy is quite versatile. I will tailor your lesson around all aspects, not just healing potions. This will serve you better.”

  Molok told him to rest, hopped off the chair and closed the door behind him as he left. He then went over to sit next to Armand. Elle and Typhus, who were both lounging in the meeting area sat up straight. Armand was a little confused by Molok still being in the room. The assumption is he would treat Deacon and rush off to the next thing on is ever growing list.

  “I received a message from your father. Once you get to the city gates you are to report directly to him. Do not stop at the guild first. If there is something you need to turn in send Typhus. It’s my understanding that things aren’t going well in this cold war with Vasilly. The Cardinal Units may be called to serve sooner rather than later. Now that I have delivered the message, tell me everything about Deacon.” Molok said.

  “Why do I have to report to the guild?” Typhus complained.

  “Return that bread you stole Bloodbeard!” Molok snapped.

  “Every time, he baits you every time Ty.” Elle scoffed.

  “That was fifty years ago. I apologized to you then. When are ya gonna let this go?” Typhus shot back.

  “When you return that bread!” Molok said waving Typhus away.

  Typhus got up in a harrumph and left the room. He damn near cracked the door frame when it slammed. Molok then settled his attention on Elle and Armand.

  “We sort of just found him in sarcophagus. Initially we thought he was some kind of monster. When Elle tried here detect life spell he didn’t show up. That made us suspicious. He’s only been a help the whole time he’s been with us. The problem is he knows nothing. We need to teach him something new at every turn. Its like walking around with a giant toddler.” Said Armand.

  “A toddler that can flatten houses and tenderize his enemies.” Elle added.

  “I noticed his extremely high attributes for a level eight. I’m surprised he’s not like a bull in a glass warehouse. To your comment about the spell. It seems he has a barrier that prevents directed magical energy from affecting him. I doubt he’d be able to cast spells should he learn magic. My base assumption is magic items will probably work although anything with a low quality would most likely disintegrate in his hands. That’s just magic though. I was able to get all the information I do have using a different source of mystical energy.” Molok mused.

  “Yes, we know he can use technique manuals.” Armand replied.

  “Oh, I didn’t dig into his skills. Very curious about that. I have never seen a Nether Monk in action and I have lived a long time. What skill did he learn?” Molok Asked.

The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.

  “Gate Crasher.” Elle said.

  “What? That’s not possible. That skill requires a different class and much higher level. You must be mistaken my dear. Especially since the four of you did not ride up in a siege golem.”

  “Well, I checked it myself when he discovered it in the wall. That is definitely what it was.” Armand said.

  “So, he managed to learn it but couldn’t use it. That’s unfortunate, he could have sold that to me.” Molok said.

  “No, he used it, only it wasn’t the same. He ripped a portal open and a giant ghostly arm came out to obliterate anything in its path.” Elle said.

  Molok was instantly sitting next to Elle. He put both hands on her head and spoke a few words. His eyes lit up blue and Elle’s eyes reflected in kind. When the spell ended Molok just stood there taking deep breaths.

  “You found him in a catacomb? He’s not from this world. I thought as much. It must have something to do with his champion status. I’ve never heard of an ability that could change a technique on such a fundamental level. So much power must come at a cost. Are you sure it wasn’t a spell? No, couldn’t have been that.” Molok said after a few minutes of contemplation.

  “Molok, he also found a tapestry that kept Typhus translating in his room for days. I think it has to do with the purge.” Armand said.

  “House Bloodbeard might be getting a new scion if that is what I think it is. These are all very strange or lucky events. Has he had any training?”

  “We found a Pressure Palm user in Everhart. He was happy to repay Deacon with lessons. He managed skill level one in a little over a week. That’s not all. He seems to be developing abilities for his class randomly. His pupils glow green in extended fights and that same color starts to run up his arms over time. The immediate area around him starts to drop in temperature as well. It’s very creepy and it makes him stand out. We haven’t asked him about it assuming he just wouldn’t know what to tell us.” Elle said.

  “The Nether Plane. He’s drawing power from the Nether Plane. It’s a realm of spirits and ghosts. I’ve only encountered it when clearing out a Lich den or in the depths of the underdark. Enough people have died in wars, monster attacks, and cleansings that spirits could be their own element. Luckily its all contained in the Nether Plane once they cross over.” Molok explained.

  “Ok that eases a bit of my concern. I didn’t want him to be possessed by a demon or something.” Armand said.

  “From what I can tell conflict will help him cement his fighting abilities but to truly grow he’ll need to understand his class. It will be core to his path forward. Maybe some books on meditation. I did not spend much time in the four great schools of monks. What I did see is a lot of people meditating.” Molok said.

  “I don’t know, he doesn’t seem like a meditator to me.” Elle replied.

  “Molok has a point but none of us can teach that.” Armand said.

  “You also have another problem. Once the four schools catch wind of a unique monk, they will want to grab him for their own internal shenanigans. Therefore, getting him into the guild is a priority. That will provide him a layer of political protection a random monk walking around wouldn’t have. I shall write you a letter of recommendation. Should skip a few rungs on the ladder of bureaucracy. I am needed elsewhere. Is there anything else I should know about?” Molok said.

  “No, I think that covers it.” Armand replied.

  “Then I am off. Enjoy your stay.” Molok said as the door swung shut behind in the blink of an eye once he took a single step off the seat he was standing on. On his way downstairs Molok thought to himself about champions and their impact on the world stage. As one of the longest living adventurers he knew that champions are a warning of things to come. Also that fool has a dragon swimming around in his soul.