Scores of pilgrims, not just Borlen’s group, rushed to Priest Thalman like iron filings to a strong magnet. The next thing Elian knew, he was several feet away from the priest, boxed out by layers of people. How did that even happen? He tried jostling to get nearer to the priest but was worried he might inadvertently hurt someone with his tankiness.
Elian admitted defeat and evacuated himself from the colorful horde. Within sight of the fountain and Priest Ihadir’s projection, he leaned against a post with a lantern ball on top and sighed.
“Why do you look down, brother?” someone asked him.
“I wanted to ask—Priest Thalman!” Elian stood straight as one of the most important people on the hill appeared beside him. The priest’s appearance of an elderly librarian disguised his true strength. Not that Elian could be sure what Thalman truly looked like; this right here was another illusion of many.
Elian warily looked around him. No tsunami of people. Most were still with the Thalman talking to Borlen. Curiously, those who didn’t join the crowd by the fountain looked like they were talking to the air. Everyone had their personal priest illusion. How convenient.
“Uh, good day to you, sir.” Elian bowed as low as he could without looking comical.
“Gladness wells in my heart to see your healthy visage.” Thalman adjusted his round glasses. “How many Tribulations have you performed?”
“Seven,” Elian replied. “Plus, one later.” He kept it in reserve for the flower-hunting trip.
“A fine number. Seven. You’ve called for the Tribulation each day since receiving your Boon from the Magistrate. I pray you do well for your Tribulation today. Concerns are unneeded, I’m sure. Borlen tells me your body’s constitution is quite impressive, taking on a troublemaker’s wind blades with scarcely any scratches.
“There were several scratches,” Elian said, glancing at Borlen’s way. Thalman could keep track of several conversations at the same time. “What’s been done to Naamon and his group?”
“They have paid remuneration for the damage caused, in the amount assessed by the Temples. Half goes to the Temple coffers, half to Borlen. I’m now giving it to him.” Thalman nudged his head toward the crowd. “We’ve added guards near your camp to prevent such a confrontation from repeating.”
“Good thing you gave Borlen that fine Merlan breastplate. Saved him from serious injuries.” Elian mentally mapped how the conversation should go for his questions.
“A show of appreciation for Borlen’s contributions to the community,” said the priest. “Borlen may have switched his support to a different Champion Penitent, but from then up to now, his hard work grew the number of those walking the path forged by the Hundred-Armed Magistrate. He intimated to me his desire to continue his journey but laments his weak body unable to safely receive a Tribulation. I saw fit to aid him.”
“When it comes to the ever-increasing power of Tribulations,” Elian said, “everyone will be weak in comparison one day.”
Thalman gave him one slow nod. “I know that very well.”
“Ah, I meant no offense, Priest Thalman,” Elian quickly said, feigning a flustered voice. He switched to a worried expression, looking sideways and down. “It’s just… the fear of death. You’ve counseled me about this the day I got my Boon, but it’s not so easy to push away. Reassuring to know you’ll help people that—I mean, I’m not asking for a handout.”
“You show great promise, brother,” the priest said. “As you progress your journey and find your place in the community, the resources of the Temples of Tribulation will be open to you. Show devotion and you’ll be rewarded.”
Elian gazed up the tiers of the hill. “I imagine myself wearing one of the suits of armor from the golden hall.” Then he shook his head. “But that requires me to reach a Greater Boon. I shudder at the thought. I’ve witnessed the Tribulation of Penitent Tharguras. The Greater Tribulation should be a far stronger single strike from above, right?”
“Not so,” said Thalman. “A Greater Tribulation descends in multiple strikes and various forms—a slam; a drilling force; corrosion, in parts; and magic, as well. Many more. This isn’t to put more fear in your heart but to inspire you to work harder and marvel at the greatness of the Magistrate’s influence on this mortal plane.”
Magic? Damn it. Almost made Elian lose his train of thought.
A problem for Future Elian. He should keep the conversation going because he was almost there.
“There are multiple strikes?” Elian asked, channeling the shock of needing to face magic Tribulations in the future. “I-I shouldn’t… let it dwell in my mind. What’s important is I’ve confirmed a Lesser Tribulation is a single strike. Greater Tribulation, multiple strikes. The rumor that Lesser Tribulations can have multiple strikes is a lie, thank goodness.”
“Where did you hear that?” Priest Thalman asked.
Elian scratched his chin. “Can’t really recall. At the pub on Immaterial Hill, most likely. I hang out there sometimes to relax.” He paused, hoping for the priest to fill the silence.
Was it enough prodding? He’d rather avoid mentioning the word ‘Curse’ if possible.
“A Lesser Tribulation can strike multiple times,” Priest Thalman tentatively said, looking intently at Elian as if peering into his soul, “if it’s from… a Curse.”
“A Curse from the Magistrate?” Elian wished he had gotten acting lessons in his previous life. Was his surprised expression too fake? “How is that possible? The Magistrate is so benevolent. Also, how can somebody get close to the Magistrate to commit offensive acts worth a Curse?”
“For your sake, learn not of those heretical stories, brother. But awful things have happened, and the Magistrate has meted out punishment before.”
“I never thought that could happen. The Magistrate is just, uh, so nice, giving Boons to everyone. Wait, can someday get a Boon and a Curse?” Elian thought of this last night. As the weight of his mistake Jadewell had pointed out sunk in, he was more resolved than ever to save humanity.
No way he’d push himself to the extent of Priest Ihadir, but he’d explore less crazy but still very crazy ideas like having both the Magistrate’s Boon and Curse. If he could survive the Curse, he’d survive the Boon, no problem. The rewards from the Boon would help make him tankier, and he wasn’t required to call upon its Tribulation every day when it’d get too difficult in the future.
This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
“I haven’t heard of such a thing,” the priest replied, “from the Magistrate or any deity. Such a preposterous concept of carrying the Boon and Curse of the same deity.”
“Yeah… preposterous.” Elian casually chuckled.
He’d bet a million faeboars the Magistrate would agree to something like it. The giant hand would think it extra hilarious and ripe for mortal shenanigans. Elian would be a yummy snack with all the devotion and endurance in the Magistrate’s name. Still, Elian, same as Priest Thalman, hadn’t heard of such a thing happening to any deity.
There was also the issue of the Divine Bestowal Slots—three of his slots were taken up by Curses. So far, Elian wasn’t aware of upgrading them beyond a Greater Curse. In comparison, Greater Boons could be Melded together. But there was the very big question of which deity would agree to Melding with the Hundred-Armed Magistrate. It could end up as an underpowered slot.
Elian shelved the idea for now. He couldn’t reach the Magistrate to ask anyway without the priests stopping him.
“Priest Thalman, before you go,” Elian asked as the illusion started to fade. “Is there someplace I could research things beyond the scope of the Six Paths? Borlen told me of the extreme journeys of the priests. I may not have access to the silver or gold halls because of my meager state, but knowledge is accessible to all, isn’t it?”
Priest Thalman solidified again as he smiled. “Almost all knowledge is available to those who ask. Beneath the left wing of the temple, beyond the Three Gates of Acuity, is the trove of knowledge of Penitents Past.”
“Three Gates of Acuity? Is that a test? I’m not very good with riddles and puzzles.”
The priest broadly smiled as he disappeared. “It’s the name of a great door. Even I don’t know the reason it’s called Three Gates though it’s one door.” The illusion was completely gone and yet his voice remained. “Come visit and I’ll guide you.”
As the silvery sun reached its highest point in the sky, Elian ran over the empty bridge to Forge Hill. Three hours had passed since Thalman left and the mass still wasn’t done—it was Hazelheart’s turn to preach. Elian had an appointment to keep and some shopping to do before it. Satisfied with Borlen’s safety, especially with Thalman favoring him, Elian took his leave, telling only Casimir. He couldn’t tell Borlen directly; the old man would guilt him into staying.
Forge Hill, being Forge Hill, had a more extensive array of choices when it came to weapons and armor compared to Vigor Hill.
He wasn’t planning on buying new gear when he invited Thorren for the mission, otherwise he would’ve set a later time. But with the incoming windfall of yesterday’s hunt, he decided to spend the money he had now. His earnings from the jarlion and Quillhusk would be more than enough to pay for Gideon and other equipment upgrades.
“Do you have any fist weapons?” Elian asked a plump merchant wearing an orange turban. The shop was impressively spacious, with several attendants busy in between weapon racks. “Or gauntlet weapons? I don’t really know what to call them. Those you wear on your hands?”
Elian would be holding weapons when calling for the Tribulation. So far, it had been going well with keeping the cleaver down by his side as the strike descended. If he bought something long, like a sword or even a spear, it’d most likely break. Even daggers, unless they were really short, could be damaged by stronger Tribulations in the future.
Going to be very costly buying new weapons again and again. And so, he thought of using something compact, weapons he could protect from the Tribulation.
Funny how he’d protect the weapons, not the other way around.
“Follow me, dear customer.” The merchant moved with astonishing speed for his size, snaking through narrow aisles and around piles of weapons. “Peruse our claws on offer. You can test the feel of their grip. Make sure it is comfortable and secure when you stab your enemies or swipe at them.”
“None with claws and blades,” Elian said, browsing the weapons. “They’re too unwieldy. Something that’s not long.”
“If that is what you have in mind, then push-daggers are out.” The merchant jogged to the next cabinet, his turban bouncing. “How about retractable blades, sir?” He took one from the shelf, equipped it in a blur, and demonstrated the straight, double-edged blade extending from its end. “Let the blades remain hidden if not in use. We have smaller options easily concealed with long sleeves if such is your purpose.” The merchant gave him a wink.
“If the blade is retracted, then I won’t get the Attack Power, right?”
“Ye-yes… that’s how it works.” The merchant glared at Elian, probably gauging if he was a real buyer. “If you don’t want blades, spikes, or claws, then blunt-knuckles might be what you’re looking for.” He transferred to the next row of cabinets and gestured at the shelves.
“This is it!” Elian pointed at a gauntlet that ended with straps around the wrist. Its knuckles were reinforced by a thick layer of steel, and studded to increase the damage of the punch. “How much for this one?”
The price the merchant quoted was lower than Elian expected. Weapons didn’t have a high demand, more so knuckles. But perhaps he could find a better deal. He had to spare some coins for other purchases. He tried others on display, eventually settling with a simple one that looked like brass knuckles from Earth attached to a leather glove. The metallic knuckles were wide enough to be used as a buckler in a fight. The price was within budget and it came with an enchantment.
Nagawada’s Baleful Strike
Gain twelve Attack Power for every level. Lose six Health for every level.
Handing the appropriate number of coins to the merchant, Elian wore the Jawbreaker Knuckles and checked how much Attack Power the pair gave him.
ATTACK POWER
Internal: 117 (Base), 420 (Tribulation)
External: 326 (Equipment), 84 (Enchant)
Multiplier: x8 (Berserking Abyssal Eye), x0 (Powerless Physical Immortal)
“I’m going to get very hard with this,” Elian said.
“What was that, sir?” A dash of worry flashed on the merchant’s face. The wild smile Elian sported didn’t help. “If you find everything in order, I respectfully ask you to leave.”
“No, no! That wasn’t what I meant. Weapons make me hard because—Uh, yes, I’m not going to continue that sentence. Thank you for your assistance.”
Elian hurried away from the merchant’s weirded-out stare and headed to the section of the town selling helmets. His cranium was harder than most of the helmets for sale, but he wanted added protection to cushion the impact of the Tribulation. It’d be like the bumper of a car. In this case, attaching a bumper to a tank.
“I’m going to buy this one,” Elian told the scrawny vendor persuading him to pick the more expensive options. Instead, he chose a simple conical helmet with a noseguard. His old helmet, armguards, and leather vest would take too much work to repair. He’d buy equipment more next time.
ARMOR
Internal: 10 (Base), 7,576 (Powerless Physical Immortal)
External: 220 (Equipment)
Multiplier: x8 (Powerless Physical Immortal)
“That totals to more than sixty-two thousand Armor,” Elian muttered, examining his Covenant. “One last purchase. I hope Thorren didn’t arrive on time.”
Fifteen minutes later, he came out of an alchemist shop specialized in armor protection and enhancement. With the last of his coins, he managed to buy the smallest bottle they had of fulgurate oil. When applied to equipment, it gave added durability for a short duration. Elian had to be thrifty with it because he’d use it every day. In the long run, he’d save on repair costs.
“Thorren, I’m sorry for making you wait so long,” Elian said, arriving at the southern gates of Forge Hill. Thorren was already there along with his cousins, making Elian feel even guiltier for his tardiness. “Are you ready?”