Charomera
The 20th of Thargelion
The Year 4631 in the Era of Mortals
Arche ducked behind a mound of treasure, weighing his options. His Health and Stamina were nearly full, but his Mana was down to half, thanks to Divine Body. He had the Tridory and the Revenant Rib Kopis for weapons, which were likely strong enough to damage the dragon, but he had no sure way to properly fight it.
A bloom of green flame engulfed a nearby pile of treasure, reducing it to glowing slag. The air shimmered in the heat. Arche’s skin prickled with sweat as a familiar cold fear grew within him. He scrambled to his feet and ran, ducking between treasure piles to keep out of the dragon’s eyesight. Medea’s manic laughter filled his ears.
“Run, little Jason, while you still can!” Medea called out in a taunting singsong.
In a moment of panic-fueled cognitive dissonance, Arche’s thoughts turned to gingerbread. Then another spout of green flame brought him fully back into the present. He whipped his head about, trying to get a fix on the witch. She had climbed back up onto the dais and was actively searching for him, though he was now out of the light thrown by the columns.
As dangerous as the dragon clearly was, Medea was still the primary threat. If it was her Mana that animated the dragon, then it was possible that killing her would deanimate it. Easier said than done. The dragon was stationary but was quickly removing his concealment by turning everything into molten sludge with its breath attack. He needed a plan.
The treasure next to him was suddenly engulfed by green flame. Arche ran, throwing caution to the wind. He angled to try and put the dais between him and the dragon, but it was a long way to go. Medea let out a cackle as she spotted him, her hand glowing with red energy. Arche chucked the Tridory at her, hoping to put her on her back foot. In doing so, he lost focus on where he was going and tripped over a silver rod, smacking his knee against the ground. The crimson bolt shot high, dissipating on what was presumably the ceiling. Arche sucked his teeth and held his knee, trying to think of something. In front of him, someone stared back, bloody-eyed and slightly distorted.
Arche blinked.
It was a silver shield, the front of which was glossed into a mirror. A half-remembered myth came to his mind and he Examined it.
Mirror Shield of Perseus
Rarity: Legendary
Quality: Godforged
Defense: 100
Durability: 40,000 / 40,000
Weight: 10 kilograms
Traits: Mana Reflection, Repairing
Mana Reflection
Magic cast against this shield will be reflected.
Costs durability.
Arche strapped the shield onto his forearm, a reckless plan forming in his head. He staggered to his feet and made a run for the dais. Medea sent a gust of wind his way that caught him in the side opposite the shield, knocking him off the stairs and out into the open, directly in front of the dragon.
He scrambled to his feet and pulled out his bone Kopis as the dragon swiped a skeletal claw at him. He jumped back, bringing the shield up to block, but couldn’t get out of the way in time. The impact tossed him into another pile of treasure and drove the breath from his lungs. He gasped and coughed as his whole body seized with pain. The dragon’s maw flashed green. Arche tried to roll off the treasure pile, but his foot was stuck fast and he couldn’t get himself free. He brought up the shield, hoping it was big enough to cover all of him.
Fire washed over him.
His skin blistered and cracked from the heat. All moisture evaporated in an instant and the scent of cooking meat was heavy in the air. The treasure shifted as it melted, then the flames were gone. Arche scrambled away from the glowing metal and ran for the dragon. Each time the dragon had breathed fire, it took about ten seconds before breathing it again. Arche hoped that would still hold true. The dragon reared up, bringing its head well out of reach. With nothing but bones to strike, Arche pulled up short.
Medea stood on the dais to his right, a spear of glimmering, crimson light held aloft and aimed in his direction. At the same time, the dragon’s maw glowed green. Burned alive by dragon fire or struck by whatever magic Medea conjured. The choice really wasn’t that difficult.
Arche set himself behind the shield and aimed it squarely at the dragon. He grit his teeth, knowing whatever magic Medea was about to use was going to hurt. Out of the corner of his vision, he saw a blur of movement. Distracted, he turned his head to get a better look. The blur slammed into Medea’s back, sending her tumbling off the dais and onto the ground below, her spell dissipating as she fell.
Moments before the dragon’s breath reached him, Arche pivoted a fraction.
Green flame engulfed him. He tried to scream but the heat forced its way down his throat, smothering all sound. Despite the pain and the heat, he was protected from the worst of the fire. Medea, however, had no such protection. Dragon flame rebounded off Arche’s shield and washed over the witch. She shrieked, loud and full of panic, writhing as her flowing, red robes turned to ash.
The flames stopped. Arche groaned and fell, his muscles shaking. His Health hovered at five percent. Cooked meat filled his nostrils but he couldn’t tell whether it was Medea or himself. Mustering the last of his resolve, he activated Divine Body, opening the Mana floodgates as far as they would go to rejuvenate himself as quickly as possible. He cut the skill off as his Mana reached five percent, well past his comfortable threshold. It would have to be enough, he had no more to spare.
His body itched and writhed as the blistered skin smoothed and reddened with new growth. His Health had settled at twenty percent. Still at a dangerous level, but he was in no immediate danger so long as he wasn’t hit by dragon’s flame again. Arche looked up at it, worried at what he’d find.
The dragon’s skull lay atop a pile of treasure, the rest of its skeleton in disarray behind it. Medea laid unmoving on the ground, flames licking at her crisped corpse. Arche grimaced, fighting the urge to gag at the sight of superheated bodily fluids and the goo of melted flesh. He turned away as the golden light of a level up enveloped him, closing over his wounds and cleaning the char from his clothing.
Then he remembered the blur that struck her.
“Argos! Argos, where are you?” he croaked, tasting ash on the air.
Something blurred in front of him, then Argos appeared, panting and wide-eyed. Realizing their mental connection had lapsed during the fight, Arche reestablished it and felt a flood of emotions come through from the hound.
Fear. Concern. Happiness. Anxiety. Run? Hurt friend! Thirsty. Brave dog.
Arche didn’t bother to hide his smile at the last.
“You are a brave dog. You’re the bravest dog I’ve ever met and the goodest boy. You’re brilliant.”
Argos’s tail wagged and he snuffled at Arche’s hip. Arche stood and patted the dog on the head, feeling the fear and anxiety ease just a little. He dragged himself to the dais to catch his breath. Now that the fight was over, he knew where to put his undistributed attribute points.
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He cursed himself, knowing he should have done it before the fight, but he also knew why he hadn’t. The idea of having points in reserve was enticing. It would allow him to adjust on the fly if he turned out not to be a match for the situation, but it just wasn’t feasible. In a fight, he barely had time to pull something from his inventory, let alone manipulate his status menu.
Arche pulled up his attributes and sank five points into Intelligence and five points into Wisdom, bringing both above forty.
Argos had a small scorch mark on his back leg so Arche pet the dog behind its ears as he channeled Minor Heal. It also gave him a chance to check his notifications.
You have slain Medea, Level 71.
You gain 1,420 experience.
Slayer of the Mighty activated!
You gain 4,900 bonus experience.
You have reached Level 23.
As a Human, you gain 5 attribute points to distribute each level.
As a Demigod, you receive +1 to each attribute per level.
Spear Throwing has reached Level 10.
You have reached the rank of Novice in Spear Throwing.
+3% Accuracy of Thrown Spears (+30%)
+2% Range of Thrown Spears (+20%)
+1 Strength
+1 Dexterity
You gain 100 experience.
You have learned a Skill.
Treasure Hunter — Level 1
Where others are destined to live in poverty, you stumble onto riches.
This skill improves your chance to find Hidden Treasures.
Every 5 levels in this skill increases Perception and Luck by 1.
+0.25% Chance of finding Hidden Treasures (+0.25%)
Shields has reached Level 13.
+2% Defense with Shields (+26%)
+1% Damage with Shields (+13%)
Psychic Sight has reached Level 3.
+3 Meters of Sight (+9)
+2% Clarity of Sight (+6%)
Current Distance: 39 Meters
Minor Heal has reached Level 4.
Current Rate: 2.2 Health per 20 Mana
The Treasure Hunter skill was especially interesting as it increased Luck. The only other skill he knew of that increased the esoteric attribute was Dungeoneering, which also increased Perception and gave bonuses to spotting hidden things. Perhaps there was a correlation between Perception and Luck, some sort of link between searching and finding. That was a thought experiment for another day.
He was a little disappointed the dragon hadn’t given any experience, but he suppose he technically hadn’t killed it. He had only cut off the source of its animation, which had been Medea. Arche looked down at Argos, who had fallen asleep at his feet, and smiled. He Examined the dog.
Argos
Level: 15
Race: Blur Hound
Age: ?
Height: ?
Weight: ?
Profession: ?
Trade: ?
Traits: ?
Companions: ?
Adventuring Party: ?
Health: 590 / 590
100%
Stamina: 1,090 / 1,090
100%
Mana: 60 / 60
100%
Arche smiled. Clearly, the dog had gotten experience from the fight by helping him take down Medea. It was relatively low-level, but it was so incredibly fast that Arche had little doubt it could take down prey much larger than itself. It was also Level Fifteen, which was the threshold for a Profession. Could a dog even learn a Profession? He was curious to find out.
He was about to stand when he realized the shield was still strapped to his arm. He looked down at it. Almost every time he used a shield, he ended up breaking it, but this one had an auto-repair feature in addition to being able to reflect magic. If his tenuous knowledge of Greek mythology was correct, it had also been used to kill Medusa, a stony-stared monster. It would be an invaluable addition to his repertoire, a truly rare find, and it was just sitting in what was effectively the palace’s basement, unused and forgotten.
He was already there to steal the Golden Fleece, which was clearly even more highly sought after. It wasn’t like his hands were clean of the venture. One more priceless relic would hardly make a difference when the payment came due.
Yet, even as all these arguments ran through his head, he didn’t like the idea of taking it.
It was something Alex would do. Grab power, no matter who or where it came from, and dodge the price. It made him uneasy. Power was necessary, but how it was obtained mattered. The bill always came due, and following Alex’s path would inevitably lead him back to a point where he was willing to sacrifice the whole world to get what he wanted.
So, feeling like he was making a mistake, he unstrapped the shield from his arm and placed it onto the steps. The noise woke Argos, who lifted his head and stared at Arche expectantly.
“Let’s get what we came for and get out of here, what do you say?”
Excitement.
Arche stood and walked to the top of the dais. The sacrificial bowl and altar were gone. Instead, with no explanation of how it got there, a small wooden chest waited for him. In contrast to the extravagance of everything else, the wood seemed crude and out of place. Still, the latch opened easily beneath his hand and nothing sprang out at him as he lifted the lid.
Inside was a gold-colored sheep skin. One side covered in soft, yellow wool, the other in strange markings and tiny script. Arche peered at it, trying to make sense of it, but it was beyond him. Not wanting to be duped at the last minute, he Examined it.
The Golden Fleece
Rarity: Mythic
Quality: Flawless
Durability: 10 / 10
Weight: 6 kilograms
“So much trouble and it doesn’t even do anything,” Arche muttered. “Must be the writings. Doesn’t seem to be anything else special about it.”
Arche tested putting it in his inventory and breathed a sigh of relief when the Fleece disappeared from his hand. The Tridory was the only other Mythic item he had and it resisted any attempt to store it. The Fleece, thankfully, had no such restrictions.
“Well done. I’m impressed you actually acquired it, not that it really matters.”
Argos growled and Arche turned to see Tess and Efterpi. Tess’s arms hung limply at her sides and her eyes were unfocused. Efterpi held her by the throat, her arm bare for the first time since Arche had seen. Her skin was pink and flushed, like a sunburn, and the nails of her fingers were long and sharp as they pressed against Tess’s neck.
Arche stared, too stunned to move.
“Surprised to see me?” Efterpi reached up with her other hand and stuck a thumb beneath her mask. As she removed it, her voice changed. “You really shouldn’t be.”
A dark-haired woman with a ruddy complexion and glittering red eyes grinned at him. Arche felt a twinge in his mind, like the shifting of a curtain, as a magic veil fell away, leaving only cold rage.
“Aima.”