Hadespera

The 26th of Elaphebolion

The Year 4631 in the Era of Mortals

“I’ll kill you all, malakas! Stay back!”

The words floated into Arche’s head. Feeling came back gradually. Cool stone beneath him. Heavy clothes on top of him. The piercing, icy touch of an axe being slowly pushed from his chest. Pain was gone, to his relief. His injuries had healed, his vitals were full, but it was difficult for his mind to focus. He felt pulled between two worlds.

“One more step and I will slaughter every last one of you.”

Arche blinked. His vision was blurry but quickly cleared itself. What he saw didn’t make much sense. Lyssa and Tess stood over him, blades drawn. They were surrounded not by beastmar, but villagers. The village guard, more specifically, behind whom was Callias Buteo. Things were beginning to fall into place.

Lyssa held her swords, her bow nowhere to be seen, but there was no more fight in her. He could tell by the set of her shoulders. Tess, on the other hand, was shouting abuse and shaking, seemingly ready to start stabbing people at any moment. Others stood with them. Vik, Elpida, and Gigator, all ready for a fight. It was shaping up to be a bloodbath.

Before Arche could do anything, a barrage of notifications appeared in his vision.

Divinity has increased to 100%

YOU HAVE DIED.

Quest Failed:

Unlocking Your Potential

Objective Failed:

Do not die[error].

ERROR…ERROR…ERROR…

SUBJECT IS NOT DEAD.

CALCULATING…

…PARAMETER MET: SUBJECT NO LONGER DEAD.

RESETTING QUEST…

You have completed a Quest!

Unlocking Your Potential

Hey! You stuck it through. Figured it out and made a ton of mistakes along the way. Wouldn’t have killed you to ask for more help, maybe a sacrifice or two for old times’ sake, but you did it your way and no one can ever take that away from you. Congratulations! Keep it up and we’ll be seeing more of each other. In any case, you’re too much of a variable to stay completely automated. I’m watching you.

Don’t forget it.

-H.

Reward

· Claim your Profession

Demigod

Not everyone is gifted with a divine spark. Through heroic deeds and service, you have fanned your spark of Divinity into a candle’s flame. You have become a Demigod.

Your patron deity is now an irrevocable part of you.

+5 to all attributes

+1 to all attributes with each new level

You have a Disease.

Death Sickness

Dying and coming back is a traumatizing feat. The effects of doing so should reflect the effort involved. Don’t make a habit of it unless you want to draw unwanted attention. Specifically, mine. Which, coincidentally, you already have!

-H.

-50% Vitals Regeneration

-50% Willpower

Progress toward next Skill levels reset

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-5,000 Experience

+25% chance of vomiting randomly

50% chance of mentally reliving your death at random moments

Death Sickness: 11:59:57

You have slain Eten and Nete, the Beastmar Chieftain.

You have slain 17 Beastmar.

You gain 4,960 experience.

Slayer of the Mighty activated!

You gain 1,100 experience.

Lyssanderyli has slain 31 Beastmar.

You gain 4,650 experience.

Your party has slain 19 Beastmar.

You gain 1,900 experience.

You have reached Level 20.

As a Human, you gain 5 points to distribute per level.

As a Demigod, you gain 1 point in all attributes per level.

You have 25 unallocated attribute points.

Profession Paths are now unlocked.

As the notifications appeared, Arche scanned them over for the highlights before dismissing them. As the last one disappeared, his body was wrapped in golden light. Unlike the normal flash of a level up, the five levels he progressed through surrounded him like a flare. The light settled into his chest and throat, healing his wounds until nothing remained but scars, but it did nothing for his mind fog or the horrible queasy feeling that had settled into his gut, both likely consequences of Death Sickness.

“What are you idiots waiting for? I told you to kill them!”

“Kill me yourself, you cowardly piece of shit.”

Every eye turned to him as he eased himself into a sitting position, throwing off the massive axe.

“You…you…” Tess stammered.

“You were dead.” Lyssa finished for her.

The guards took a step back, clearly uncomfortable with the whole situation.

“The severity of my death was greatly exaggerated,” Arche groaned. “Could I get a hand up, please?”

Lyssa sheathed a blade and grabbed him under one arm. Tess did the same on the other side and together they hauled him to his feet. Arche summoned the Tridory back to his hand and planted the sauroter into the stone, leaning against it like a staff.

“Why is he ordering us dead?” Arche asked.

“Because you are—”

“Shut the fuck up, Callias. I’m not talking to you.”

“He’s blaming us for the whole beastmar situation. Thinks we’re too dangerous to be imprisoned or exiled, so he’s ordered his guards to kill us,” Tess said.

“Tell you what, Callias. I think this whole village is just about sick of your shit. You want things to get done, get them done yourself. If you want us dead, try to kill us yourself. Stop being such a fucking coward or get out of our way.”

“Are you challenging me to a duel?”

“Sure! If it’s an excuse to punch you in the face.”

“Arche!” Lyssa hissed sharply. “You are in no condition to pick another fight.”

“Very well, boy, I will accept your challenge on one condition: I fight your elven friend there instead.”

Silence reigned in the cavern for a long moment, broken by hysterical laughter. Arche’s hysterical laughter, to be specific.

“You want to fight her? Her? Whatever you say, man. Lyssa?”

“Gladly.”

“As the challenged, I invoke my right to choose the means by which our battle is fought,” Callias continued.

“Go on, then. I’ve wasted more than enough time down here already.”

“We shall fight unarmed, without interference of magic or outside assistance, until one of us is incapable or unwilling to continue.”

“Very well. Should we win, you will abdicate your position, pending trial for your gross negligence,” Lyssa responded.

“And should I win, you and your friends will be put to death. What say you?”

“I accept.”

Lyssa moved forward until she stood directly in front of Callias. The two could not have looked more ill-matched. Lyssa was covered in blood, sported several active wounds, and her thin armor had been beaten and gouged a dozen times over. Callias, on the other hand, was spotless. He wore a golden, ornate breastplate with matching vambraces and greaves. There wasn’t a drop of blood on his person or a single, onyx hair out of place. He was also a good head and shoulders taller than Lyssa and weighed probably twice as much.

“This armor,” Callias sneered. “Was forged by some of the finest smiths this side of Tartarus. Sword, spear, axe, and arrow don’t even scratch it. Come now, elf. Do your worst.”

No sooner had the last word left his mouth had Lyssa’s fist entered it. Callias’s head rocked back, his surprise as sharp as his pain. Her other fist slammed into his exposed throat, then she grabbed his head in both hands and forced it down into her rising knee. He stumbled back, trying to regain his composure. Lyssa leaped forward and planted her foot into Callias’s breastplate, pushing him back even further . Callias recovered before he fell, swinging with a wide right hook. Lyssa caught the fist, stopping it in its tracks, then kicked out Callias’s leg and forced him to the ground. She kept a hold of his arm, switching her grip to be around his wrist, and twisted over him so her foot was on his back and his arm was held painfully out behind him.

“Submit.”

“Never!” Callias cried.

A loud crack echoed as Lyssa broke his wrist. Callias wailed but Lyssa refused to let go. After a moment, she wrenched again, this time with a loud pop. Callias’s arm elongated briefly and Arche’s stomach did a turn as he realized she’d pulled the entire arm out of socket.

“Yield, or I will do worse to your other arm.”

Callias screamed, his pain too great to respond in words. His head bobbed in what was either agony or compliance. Lyssa dropped his hand and his arm fell to the ground, twisted, broken, and useless.

“Do any here challenge the outcome of this event?” Lyssa said to the crowd, her words hard and daring. “Do any here wish to lay their own challenge at my feet? I have had a lion’s share of blood today, but I will spill more if I must.”

Silence reigned. Several of the villagers were apparently holding their breath, trying to make as little noise as possible in case they might be singled out and made an example of.

“Very well. Guards, arrest him. Let’s go home.”

Gigator hauled Callias up off the ground. The former village lord had passed out from his injuries, bringing blessed silence. Lyssa turned to the other villagers.

“Gather up what loot you can find and let’s get out of here. And someone bring food and water for the freed villagers, they have endured more than any here.”

Arche smiled as people ran to follow her orders. Lyssa looked good in command. His eyes glanced over the crowd and landed on the corpse of Eten and Nete. A tingle of fear spread through him, concentrating in the nape of his neck, but he fought it down. He was alive, somehow still alive.

The massive axe laid at his feet, his blood still wet on the blade. Arche grabbed the handle and lifted it. It was longer than he was tall but still fit inside his inventory. He made to stand and stumbled, legs suddenly unsteady. Tess appeared underneath his arm, propping him up.

“Are you going to tell me what happened?” she asked quietly.

“Yes, when there aren’t as many prying ears. Over that dinner, maybe?”

“Dinner sounds lovely.”