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The map showed four locations in the Byzantine Empire. One was in the Caucasus, and another in Anatolia, but the ones of interest were close to the border of the Bogomil Federation. A region was encircled in the Balkans, the equivalent of Montenegro and northern Albania on Earth, and a second circle marked the town of Taranto in Italy.

A post-it note from Irene stuck under each place. The first said: ‘This part of the Balkans is controlled by Mysafyr i Llug, literally meaning The Visitor and his Wolf. According to Hubris, there were only two Summoned Beast Tamers, one of whom was the Raven, and both were notoriously unstable. The Visitor has soloed one dungeon in the vicinity and made the area his own. He never left it, even after we became Archetypes, and he and his pet ride bodies that look like them. Officially, the area belongs to the Byzantines, but it’s a bandit lair in all but the name.’

The second text was even more strange: ‘This region is protected by the Dancing Spider Queen, Gorgona Taranta. Probably a summoning went wrong. The Spider Queen is the only non-humanoid Archetype. No one knew her origin, but she fought alongside the other Archetypes in the Dungeon Wars. Afterward, Taranta made a pact with the Byzantines to defend their Southern Italian colonies from the Duchy of Rome (Celtic vassal). She can spawn minions. A bite or a look from those beasts makes people dance until they fall unconscious.’

To bring his plan to completion, Vincent needed The Archetype in Montenegro gone, and by that, he meant preferably dead. The man was the worst type of murder hobo possible, leading hundreds of bandits who plundered, raped, and killed both in their territories and in the Bogomils and Hungary border counties. They treated their own women and children worse than slaves.

Vincent did not sit idle during the preparation period, which took almost two weeks. He had unlocked Common Healing and Accelerate Regen, following Ludwing’s manual, by spending time every day at the hospital, watching and analyzing how Lila worked. It was a poor man’s healing, but a Healing nevertheless.

When D-Day came, a contingent of five hundred Dark Knights—offered by Trinella—and two hundred Amazons crossed the border, marching toward one of the bandit bases. A force large enough to be a serious threat but small enough that the bandits think they could beat. Soon, small groups of outlaws began to trickle west toward a gorge through which the attackers were obliged to pass and the best ambush point.

The diversion column slowed once the trend was clear, leaving Vincent to mount the main attack. Everything was ready, with only one more task before launching the assault: choose what to do with two skills.

Although it seemed an impossible task at first, Ludwing’s manual helped Vincent unlock Dominion, a Mental attack destined to crush other peoples’ will. Ludwing was obviously an expert at those kinds of skills, while Vincent hated them with a passion. However, by walking around the town with Vorrak and scaring away dogs who peed on lamposts, cats meowing too loud at night, and pigeons targeting statues with their bio-bombs, the young man had achieved the same result as torturing prisoners—which was the king’s recommendation.

And now it was time to get rid of the skill, merging it with Iron Grip into a new Legendary ability.

Hand of Dominion. This is not just a skill but a statement of control. When the user summons this power, their hands take on an unnatural hardness and strength, able to hold or crush with a king’s authority, forcing the world to bend to their will. Nothing can escape their dominion once caught in the Iron Grip. Current Skill Level: 50.

Another skill had reached level fifty and asked for a choice, and it was a hard one.

Choose an evolution for Animal Empathy:

Cat Person: You can bond with a small or large feline and fight together as one.

Dog Person: You can bond with a canid and fight together as one.

Vincent turned his eyes from left to right. On his left was White Roar, and on the right was Vorrak the Devourer. The tiger, albeit bigger, was of a lower level, approaching fifty. The vibe from the tiger was ambiguous. He was not afraid to fight but also had some second thoughts. Bonding with Vincent meant leaving his current master, Hari the Spriggan, and a quiet, if boring, life.

The warg was rooting for battle; that was obvious from his impatience. And he was level a hundred. But Vincent had seen White Roar’s strength, while the Warg was an unknown quantity.

However, there was a third element to take into consideration. In front of him, Irene held Cupkake in her arms. The cub had been washed and hair dried to appear more fluffy and was making puppy eyes.

“Poor baaaaby,” Irene pretended to sob. “Vincent will send your father to certain death.”

“Fine! I pick Vorrak,” Vincent surrendered.

You are now a Dog Person. You can perceive perfectly what a canid thinks or feels and fight as one alongside your pet, Vorrak the Devourer. Current Skill level: 50.

The warg barked with joy.

“Take care,” Irene hugged him, all fake tears gone instantly.

Vincent kissed her, petted the tiger cub’s head, and then walked the twenty yards to the center of the New Main Square, where everybody else waited. He started to Strode, transporting people and materiel to preselected locations. Two howitzers and mortars behind the ridges where the ambush waited, a group of ten mercenaries to ambush the ambush. That took the best part of an hour. Finally, he took his own group of mercs to the main bandits' base behind an empty barn and pushed the button on his radio.

You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

“Eagle One, this is Axe Raven. Execute Hellfire. I repeat, execute Hellfire. Over.”

“Axe Raven, this is Eagle One. Roger. Out.”

The drone they brought from Earth was above them, three miles up. A first missile impacted the main gate, destroying it and killing the guards. A second one blew up the barracks. There were no more than fifty bandits left in the camp, and with a bit of luck, the two strikes had destroyed at least most of them.

“Thug, go,” Vincent ordered.

Taking another four mercs with him, Thug exited the barn and sneaked along the walls to attack from the rear. Then, what Vincent hoped for happened. A pocket universe activated higher on the hill. Now, Vincent had a good idea of where the Archetype was.

Vincent jumped inside the forcefield, spear in one hand, revolver in the other, ready to shoot. From the first second, things went south. He had tried bringing his group with him, yet he was alone. Arcane Awareness offered a short explanation.

Pocket universes are extremely rare and potent skills. Those who master them can impose their own conditions inside. Only Vlachs are allowed entry inside this one. Change the name you display from Velasco to Valaška, or you’ll be expelled in ten seconds, risking disintegration.

The fuck?

He rushed to make the change, and the Raven armor dismissed itself immediately. The buff in Body meant a lot, but he had lower defenses and less elemental damage. There was still no pad showing in his scans and no one on the street, but he felt an animalic presence not far away. Peeking behind the next corner, he saw an old man and a giant wolf. The man was wiry, with a Wild West-type revolver on his hip, his only weapon. On his left hand, he had a cane, leaning on it. The wolf was only fur and bones, very old and extremely thin. Both were waiting in the middle of the road. Gunslinger, level one hundred, was the tag of the man.

“Why are you here?” the man spoke.

“To capture or slay you,” Vincent said, exiting his cover and cocking his revolver. “Surrender. I won’t hesitate to kill your ride if it means taking you down.”

The man snorted. “I’m no body snatcher, kid. What you see is the real deal. A Black Vlach doesn’t hide in a pod nor steps away from a fight.”

The wolf growled, and an oppressive feeling grasped Vincent.

You are now in a Duel Zone. Your gun has been disabled. When the countdown reaches zero, you will be able to fire. Ten… Nine…

The old man moved his hand above his gun, his fingers at the ready.

Move! Advance! Vincent thought. An instinct coming from nowhere. He stepped forward, asking himself if he should Stride away. Now, he could understand White Roar’s apprehension. He had someone to return to… Irene and Lila… and that added weight to his soul.

I’m getting old… Vincent sighed. He had never thought about running from a fight before. His revolver was in his hand, cocked, ready to fire. No matter how fast the old man was, there was no way he would fire first.

When the countdown reached one, Vincent stopped. They were very close, ten or twelve yards maximum. The morning's low sun made Vincent’s shadow so long it touched the old man’s feet.

Zero…

The old man was so fast that he fired at Vincent well before the younger man pressed the trigger. Luckily, Vincent’s instincts made him twitch his body. The bullet hit his shoulder like a jackhammer. Jerking under the shock, Vincent missed, his shot only grazing the Gunslinger’s head.

Negate Damage (one charge) has been activated.

Thanks, Bee!

There were no more shots. Vorrak jumped out from Vincent’s shadow, crushing the old man’s throat in his jaws and dragging him to the ground. The gun slipped away. The giant wolf tried to run to help his master but moved slower than a snail, falling after a few steps and then crawling.

“Shit! That hurts!” Albeit Vincent was not wounded, the impact had numbed his arm. “Good boy, Vorrak,” Vincent said to the warg. “You can hide in my shadow? Neat ability.”

His bonded pet growled in thanks, his fangs keeping the pressure around Mysafyr’s throat. The old timer was still breathing, a pool of blood growing on his side, larger by the second. The wolf was continuing to crawl forward.

Vincent prepared to deliver the coup de grace when the man looked into his eyes.

[Mysafyr (Archetype of Jealousy and Wolves)]: Don’t… Let me choke in my own blood… This is… what I deserve…

“The fuck?” Shit, I have to change my repertoire, I say that a lot…

“Hear…me,” the old man gurgled.

“I’m listening.” Vincent signaled Vorrak to release his grip.

[Mysafyr (Archetype of Jealousy and Wolves)]: I’m a bad man… When I got here, I fell in love… only to kill my wife in a fit of jealousy… She was innocent, and I did not believe her…Since then, I have made it my mission to better my nation so that they don’t make the same errors as me. I have led them on the path of reason and civilization…

Dude! Reason and civilization? Like beat your wife only once per day and pillage and rape responsibly?

[Mysafyr (Archetype of Jealousy and Wolves)]: The pod… is in my house… behind me… I never used it…. Don’t trust the other Archetypes. They’re all mad. Don’t try to be the same as them. I have no artifacts for you to loot except for my gun… My gift to you is a piece of advice… Don’t give in to jealousy… Love… is…

The man gurgled, drowning in his own blood.

“Love is doing what is best for the other person,” Vincent said, squatting, putting his hand on the old man’s forehead. A lone tear started to flow down the Archetype’s cheek.

The wolf howled. It finally arrived at his master, resting his head on the man’s chest. Mysafyr’s body jerked and remained still. Vincent closed the Archetype’s eyes, then, in one swift motion, shot the wolf in the head. The pocket universe ceased, and the noises of the outside reached in.

You have vanquished Mysafyr (Archetype of Jealousy and Wolves) and Llug, his pet. You have leveled x3. +1 in Mind and + 2 in Spirit.

“Axe Raven, this is Dragon. Do you copy? Over.” his friend’s voice arrived through the radio.

“Dragon, this is Axe Raven, I hear you. Over.”

“Axe Raven, we destroyed the ambush. The few survivors surrendered. Your instructions? Over.”

“Dragon, this is axe Raven. Leave the prisoners in the Bogomils' care. Advance as per plan. The main bandit base is secured. Over and out.”

There were no more fighting noises around. Bandits were exiting houses, hands out, herded toward an open space when they were handcuffed. Thug noticed his friend and came toward him, running.

“That’s the vessel? So old?”

“I think it was the man himself… the Archetype…” Vincent sighed.

“Something wrong?” Thug asked. “You have that look on your face…”

“No… it was just weird. Can you take care of the rest? Lock the prisoners in the barn, secure the pod, and so on?”

“Sure, man, no problem.”

“And maybe… put a couple of prisoners bury the old dude and his dog together…” Vincent’s eyes welled up.

Thug squeezed his friend’s shoulder. Sometimes, words were useless.