Wrapping the Boundless Pride in cloth to conceal its rather notable appearance, I warned the sword that if it cut through my shirts and trousers, I would have it remelted, and I couldn't care less about the consequences of breaking my word. In response, the blade just laughed loudly. It was confident that it couldn't be simply melted down and reforged. But I hinted at my acquaintance with Katashi, and the sword fell silent, slightly frightened. It didn't know that the Japanese was still far from ascending the Stairway of Divino, and definitely did not want to end up in the hands of that talented blacksmith. As far as I remembered, the only person the sword was afraid of was indeed Katashi. Because in the Last Cycle, we barely managed to dissuade Katashi Atsushi from using Boundless Pride for his experiments. And as far as I understood, at the moment when the Japanese was already on Mithril, he indeed could not just damage this artifact sword but also reforge it into something else, like a plow. At least Katashi was seriously planning to do so when Pride killed one of his assistants. That time, the sword was saved by Max Kramer, who became its Master and promised to turn its power against the demons.
So, when I very carefully wrapped in my shirts the blade that could cut even a down feather, it didn't even slice through them. Anyway, I need to find a carpenter and order a sheath for the sword, and it should be done as soon as possible. However, searching for a carpenter isn't difficult, so I think I'll find the right master in the nearest village without any trouble.
Clutching the sword in one hand along with the spear, I couldn't resist and climbed to the top of the largest rock, the one which the biggest of the ancient monsters had turned into. And from there, at a height almost equal to a five-story building, I surveyed my options. I had a choice: return to the familiar trail and follow it, or choose a shorter and more direct path to the Rur region. Freezing at the top of the rock, my sword and spear propped against the stone body of the beast, I suddenly realized that all my plans were now going awry. How had I not considered this nuance earlier when I went after Pride? What a fool I was! The sword was right to call me that.
While I hold the Boundless Pride in my hands, I'm essentially barred from traveling via Sundbad's Gates. More precisely, while it is formally possible, in practice, I don't have enough money for even a minor transfer with this sword since its energetic weight is like that of a skyscraper! Adamantium artifacts bound to their Master do not require additional costs when transferring through the Gates, but since I do not Own the Boundless Pride, the blade will "weigh" as much as a gravel-laden train. But leaving the sword here, even hidden from prying eyes, seems like a bad idea to me. What to do? Sitting where I was, atop the stone beast, I pondered. My plans for the near future needed revising.
Whether it was the view from this height or my head was working better than usual that day, I didn't think long, quickly coming up with perfectly acceptable plans for the future. After which, with a satisfied smile, I reached the ground in three leaps and strode towards Belgran.
The new plan was simple and even more logical than my past goals. Even without the find of the Boundless Pride, I had long needed to adjust my priorities for the near future. My main mistake was that I focused too much on Pentapolis, planning to start conquering the Inverted Towers as quickly as possible, already at Wootz. Yes, there is a rational kernel in this, but it would be more correct to reach Deytran already standing on the Precious Coil of the Spiral. This way, it will be much easier to find a group to descend through the floors, and I will be able to go deeper. Rushing to Pentapolis, I simply did not want to waste time "in vain." And now I've realized that there are things I can do in other parts of Ain. For example, ordering a proper armor from the smiths of the Rur region according to my designs. And while the craftsmen create it, which is a time-consuming task, I can focus on grinding core growth energy and clearing Wootz dungeons, as well as searching for new Runes and Altars of Seguna. Moreover, I should not forget that, thanks to my tips, Arien will gather information about the Ritual of Magevra much faster than in the Last Cycle. If I had followed my original plan, then, upon reaching Deytran and spending all my money on Gate transfers, I could have received a call from Arien and would have had to hastily return to Katiyer. That is, in such a case, I would have spent a bunch of money and time simply on nothing.
As for the Boundless Pride, I will have to part with the sword temporarily, as I have no intention of denying myself the use of the Gates for travel. But I wouldn't just hide the sword somewhere inconspicuous; I'd rent a personal safe in one of the major branches of the Artifactors' Guild and place the blade there. This way, nobody would accidentally find or steal the sword, and I could retrieve it whenever it's convenient for me. Of course, Pride would be against being locked in a safe, but I had no plans to consider the sword's opinion on the matter. The contract between us gave me full rights to do as I pleased, and it did not allow for any ambiguity, thanks to the fourth clause of our agreement. When I voiced it, I thought the blade would refuse, but apparently, Pride was ready to do anything just to be taken out of the place where it had spent over twenty centuries. And in this, I could understand the sword.
Reaching the Rur region, if my memory and knowledge of Ain's geography served correctly, could be simply achieved by heading towards the sunset. But that would require me to push through quite dense forests, and lately, I seemed to have developed something like an allergy to such places. Besides, a straight line is not always the shortest and simplest route. Therefore, I returned to the river. From Belgran, two abandoned roads led out. One approached the city from the east, and by it I had come here. The other went south, and judging by the bend of the river, it then turned west, precisely in the direction I needed. I chose this route, leaving behind both the destroyed city and the Ridge of Stone Monsters that lay beyond it.
On the road, as had become a habit, I decided not to waste time but to train. Because of this, I chose not to run but to walk briskly until I reached the more populated road. First, in less-traveled places, it's better to be as attentive as possible, and second, you can do things you wouldn't do in front of people. For example, practice Runes.
As soon as I had passed the destroyed streets of Belgren, I began such training. I was picking stones of a suitable size, about as big as a fist or slightly larger, and, pricking my index finger, I drew the Rune of Des on the surface. Then I threw such a stone and tried to activate the Rune as far away from myself as possible. It was not so much a training exercise but rather a way to understand my current capabilities in using the Rune of Destruction in this manner. In addition to this activity, I also practiced maintaining the Rune of Strengthening, complementing it with the corresponding aura while simultaneously calculating the energy expenditure required for this process. This was also very important, as in the future this knowledge would allow me to better plan combat and distribute energy more efficiently throughout it. Thanks to my Perfect Core, my energy reserves significantly exceeded that of almost any fighter or mage of my rank, but they were still not infinite. Through simple experiments, I found that each Rune of Strengthening increased energy consumption for the corresponding aura by about one-tenth. It seems trivial, but even the plate armor, created "in the future" by the team that included Katashi and myself, consisted of twelve elements. And if you apply the Rune of Ors to each of these elements and combine this with the aura, it more than doubles the energy costs, which I will definitely have to consider in the future. Especially when I learn a more advanced version of the Strengthening aura, which will consume even more energy to maintain.
As a result of this training, I discovered my limit. In maximum load mode, that is, maintaining four auras at once while empowering a dozen Ors Runes and occasionally using Discharge and Bull's Strength, I can last about five minutes. After that, I'll have to switch to so-to-say energy-saving mode. However, five minutes is quite a long time. Any serious duel usually ends within this timeframe. But I shouldn't rush when it comes to soloing Wootz dungeons, as there I might face waves of monsters attacking me for half an hour or even longer. Nevertheless, by turning off the support of the twelve Ors Runes, I could operate at maximum capacity for even longer. Moreover, to my surprise, in the Dance mode, the energy consumption for some reason decreased. Apparently, the Dance is something like one of the lower or primary manifestations of a state like Satori. Because of this, the energy in my body flows as if by itself, in the most "natural" way, and this significantly reduces, as Jacob Dalton would say, the magical resistance of my energy channels.
Regarding the range at which I could detonate a stone with a Rune of Destruction inscribed on it, I faced a slight disappointment. Back when I was just starting my journey on Copper and passing through the Nend cave on Unudo, I used to lob such little bombs at the Monkey King, detonating my improvised grenades about ten meters away from myself. And now, here I am at Wootz, with a Perfect Core and an Adamantium Body, yet the distance at which I can reach the inscribed Rune of Des has barely increased. Fifteen meters - that's my current limit. Not that I considered these stone grenades to be a serious weapon; after all, the force of the stone's "explosion" when the Rune is activated is not that great. Moreover, the stone shrapnel never came out uniform, and to the "conditional enemy," which were the lone trees along the abandoned road, sometimes only harmless dust would reach. And in the case that it wasn't just dust but a sharp stone fragment hitting the tree, it barely had the force to scratch and very rarely penetrated the tree bark. Nevertheless, as a means to distract an enemy, such a trick could work. Besides, the stone chips and fragments could damage the eyes or, with a lucky hit, sever a joint in the fingers holding a weapon. At this point, my arsenal of techniques and spells is too meager for me to ignore and refuse such an opportunity. Moreover, to pelt the enemy with almost energy-free "nastiness" as they approach is always useful. But the distance from which I can do it is quite disappointing. And the effect is too weak to harm an enemy of the same rank as myself. It would be far more effective for me to just take a stone and, applying Bull's Strength, hurl it at the foe without any Runes. Because if I hit… One such blow caused a young birch tree, no thicker than my arm, to crack pitifully and fall to the side. Indeed, if I were to hit an ordinary person unfamiliar with the Spiral of Elevation, no resuscitation would help them.
Nevertheless, the Rune of Des should not be dismissed. First, in close combat, it remains a very significant argument, capable of maiming even a Wootz boss. And secondly, it can also be used as a remote detonator for various alchemical concoctions.
But the activation distance... Indeed, it is far from pleasing. If I could transmit energy two or three hundred meters away from myself, I wouldn't have had to waste the "Fire Tornado" to destroy the examination tower in Katyer. I could have snuck onto the island where it stood and inscribed the Des runes on the supporting blocks. Then, from the shore, I would simply activate the rune detonation, thus destroying the tower without much effort. But the key thought in this reflection is "if I could." Alas, I can't yet. Yes, I am capable of learning the same Direct Lightning, the spell used against me in the alley of Tries by the elder of the nomadic assassins' clan, and strike with it for almost fifty meters, but it's still different. It's a standard spell with its own rules, not the transmission of pure energy at a distance. When I use the same Direct Lightning, I do not consciously transfer my energy through space but merely activate the spell at my fingertips, and from there, it works as designed.
By the way, regarding Direct Lightning, I really should learn this spell. It will fit very well into my combat style. Moreover, like Discharge, it does not become obsolete with the growth of Rank and remains useful even at the Mithril Step. Also, this magic belongs to the "standard set" of anyone who uses Lightning, and I can learn it with the two Talent Stars that I already have almost filled. Of course, after the Ritual of Halves Redistribution, which Arien is soon to conduct, any study of Lightning magic will go much faster for me, but still, there is no need to wait for the Ritual in the case of Direct Lightning.
In an hour and a half, I briskly covered more than fifteen kilometers, and the old road still looked abandoned and was winding significantly, bypassing numerous ravines and streams, which no longer satisfied me. Noticing a tall, solitary oak tree on top of one of the hills, I climbed it and surveyed the surroundings from a height.
Almost from all sides, I was surrounded by pristine nature. And only directly to the west did I notice signs of human presence. Not just signs, but a small village. Or rather, a hamlet with two houses and several outbuildings - apparently, barns. Moreover, above one of the houses, I could see a light smoke rising from the chimney, as if someone was cooking something in a home oven. It was about three kilometers from the oak tree I had climbed to these houses, so, having jumped down, I adjusted my bags, more comfortably grasped my spear and the cloth-wrapped Boundless Pride, and headed in the direction where I hoped to meet people and ask them about the surrounding area.
This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
As I walked, I pondered whether I should take off my gambeson and pack it away, but ultimately, I decided to keep it on. Simply, I took out the Guild Sign and the Nobility Brooch from my pouch and pinned them to my chest. As for the "artwork" left by Gianni, I'll pretend that it's not the result of someone's joke but a manifestation of my personal choice. The main thing is to act as if everything is going exactly as I planned - as if the butt prints were added by my own request. That's how eccentric I am, and let someone dare to say a word against it! I think, among the locals, there are no fools brazen enough to point out anything to the Sheriff of the Book, more so who belongs to the nobility.
Even on Earth, if one recalls history, many nobles allowed themselves eccentricities for which an ordinary person could have been burned at the stake, and they got away with it. The situation in Ain bore almost no difference from that on Earth. Especially considering that here, the status of a noble was automatically granted to anyone who could ascend to the Precious Coil of the Spiral. That meant being personally strong enough to explain, on the spot and without outside help, to the majority one's right to do what one wants and likes. The Nobility Brooch is usually worn only by those who are noble by birth or have earned such a right, like me, long before overcoming the First Wall. Those who increased their social status through the usual Ascension on the Spiral seldom wore the Nobility Brooch. It was enough for them to wear the Sign of their rank, which, in a way, was logical.
Approaching the hamlet about a kilometer away, I noticed no movement ahead. No one was walking around, and even the wisp of smoke that I had seen from the top of the oak had dissipated. The settlement seemed deserted, which put me slightly on edge. Stopping, I rigged Boundless Pride on my back with a makeshift, though secure, temporary baldric, and grasped the spear more conveniently. I did not hold it out in front of me, showing aggressive intentions, but held it in such a way that I could either execute or deflect an unexpected attack in an instant. Three of the four basic Auras habitually surrounded my body, so I entered the hamlet's territory in full combat readiness.
I realized that someone was nearby, thanks to the Aura of Perception, as I approached one of the barns. The small hamlet, despite its modest size, gave the impression of a prosperous settlement. Even the barn walls here were made of planks, not of woven willow as was common in these parts. The shutters of the houses were decorated with intricate carvings and painted with ochre. Clearly, it is not a hunter's lodge or a temporary dwelling for loggers or farmers. Someone wealthier definitely lived here. A house similar to this one was built by Norton, who was a Steel tunneller. Perhaps a couple of families of tunnellers lived in this hamlet as well. Such people, especially those at Steel rank and higher, often prefer to settle a bit away from their villages or towns. At the same time, they feel safe, as they are strong enough to eliminate most threats on their own, especially in areas where no particularly terrifying creatures or monsters roam.
Nevertheless, it was surprisingly quiet here for the daytime. No children running around, no women chatting, no men to be seen doing any sort of work. Only a barely audible noise, as if someone was sharpening a knife, came from the other side of the barn. A regular sound of "whshh-wooooh-whshh," monotonous, measured, repeating. I listened closely, and behind this sound, I made out light breathing. Thanks to the Aura of Perception, I could tell there was only one person there. After a moment's hesitation, I concluded that jumping out abruptly with a spear at the ready wasn't exactly proper and would be perceived by the stranger as a clear sign of aggression. Therefore, I emerged from behind the barn, making my presence known with a light cough.
On a small clearing between the buildings, a young man sat on a massive wooden bench. He was no longer a boy or a lad; he looked to be about twenty-five. Of average height and build, he was clad in fine doublet chainmail, over which he wore a short, waist-length cotta - a cloak worn over armor. On this cotta, the sitting man had a guild sign unfamiliar to me, depicting a diving hawk with a double-edged axe clutched in its talons. The cloak was clean but clearly recently patched in several places. The stranger had sharp, somewhat irregular facial features. His long, dark chestnut hair, with streaks of gray, was tied back and adorned with a band of the shade of Wootz, which, as I saw, corresponded to his Spiral Rank. On his knees lay a long single-edged sword with a slight curve, which he was sharpening, producing that very steady sound, running a whetstone along the blade. Next to the man on the bench was a plate with a half-eaten, freshly made, and still-warm porridge. His entire appearance reminded me of a soldier resting after a battle. And on the sword, there was a fresh notch that he was apparently trying to "smooth out" with the whetstone.
Having noted all these details with a single glance, I let my attention glide further across the glade. Thanks to the "experience of the future," I immediately noticed that drops of blood were visible here and there on the trampled grass. And on the left forearm of the stranger himself, there were traces of a long and clearly deep wound, which most likely had been treated with potions no later than a couple of hours ago. Behind the bench where the man sat, exactly between two houses, there was a mound of freshly piled earth. On this mound, right in its center, a wide plank was stuck with the blood-drawn symbol of Kamo on it. Not a mound... A grave.
Noticing me, the young man didn't jump to his feet or take a combat stance; he just remained seated as he was. But I didn't miss that he had still surrounded himself with a couple of Auras and had shifted his palms slightly. Even from his position, he was ready to throw the whetstone at me and attack instantly. But, apart from this hidden preparation, he showed no other aggression, looking at me attentively and even with a slight hint of curiosity. His gaze betrayed an experienced warrior who had been through dozens of fights. There was no fear or signs of nervous tension in his eyes, only coldness, calculation, calmness.
"What happened here?" I asked straight away instead of offering a greeting.
A crooked smile ran across the stranger's face, making it even more asymmetrical and, at the same time, a bit repulsive. Taking a deep breath, he set aside the whetstone and, straightening his shoulders while looking me in the eyes, he said:
"I..." And after a pause of a couple of seconds, he added, "I happened here."
Alright. An unpleasant situation. Apparently, some conflict took place here, and this man ended up wiping out the entire hamlet. That fresh mound between the houses, marked with a plank bearing the symbol of Kamo, was clearly more than what would be needed for a single grave. As I pondered how to proceed and how to behave next, the stranger's gaze fixed on my Guild Sign, and his eyebrows shot up in genuine surprise.
"Wow," he clicked his tongue. "Who managed to call the sheriff so quickly? I thought there was no one else around here."
"How many?" I asked and demonstratively dropped my bags to the ground, gripping my spear with both hands.
"What do you mean, how many?" He didn't understand me but bent his legs as if preparing to leap, and not at me, but rather backward behind the bench.
"How many bodies are in the grave, I'm asking." I clarified my words in a dry, even business-like tone.
"Five," the stranger replied shortly, without any intent to dodge or justify himself.
His whole appearance suggested that he didn't regret at all having killed all the residents of the hamlet. And I had no doubts that a true massacre had recently occurred here. Too many details pointed to that. And the longer I stood there, the more of these details I noticed.
"Are you going to talk, or should I just kill you?" I asked with a shrug, in a somewhat indifferent voice, as if preparing to do a tedious, yet necessary, job.
"Think you can handle it?" The stranger smirked from ear to ear and finally stood up, shifting his sword into a combat stance.
Judging by the stance he took, he was an Air adept, and I needed to be ready to counter aerial attacks and aggressively defend, trying to deprive him of space as quickly as possible. Air styles mean constant movement, and that's what makes them dangerous, but if their adept is driven into a tight spot...
"I can handle it," I answered calmly but added, "Though I'd prefer to hear your words first."
"Expecting me to start making excuses?" The stranger said bitterly and spat on the ground. "You'll be disappointed! Old Portnoh and his family got what they deserved," he said, nodding towards the grave.
"Well then..." I took two quick steps forward, making a broad sweep with my spear.
The stranger didn't engage in combat, jumping back five meters immediately. A small whirlwind formed around his body, lifting sand and hay into the air. But I wasn't planning on continuing. Stepping over the bench, I just sat down on it, placing the spear on my knees.
"Do you want to die that badly?" I asked, tilting my head slightly, as Larindel would when he sensed a hint of an interesting Story.
"All I wanted from this life, I've already got," the stranger smirked, and I didn't miss that his eyes flickered to the fresh grave when he said it.
"I don't care what happened here. I'm just a traveler following Sundbad's Path," I clicked my tongue and continued. "But I can't stomach beasts in human form." My spear shifted its position, pointing at the stranger's chest. I infused the blade with Light and asked, "Are you a beast or a man?"
My demonstration of Affinity with Light significantly reduced the stranger's confidence. His cheeks visibly paled. But no, he wasn't frightened; he only gripped his sword with both hands and took a defensive stance.
"The beasts in human guise lived here," he forced out through clenched teeth in response.
Yawning broadly, I shrugged and put the spear back on my knees.
"Tell me," I voiced a demand, not a request, and my involuntary interlocutor understood this correctly.
Of course, I could simply stand up and leave. Essentially, I have no real business with what happened here. Yes, I have no love for maniacs, but to engage in a fight with a possibly equal opponent over a matter of so little significance to me would be a bit rash. Yet, I cannot just walk away. And the reason for that is the Sign of the Sheriff of the Book. I received it quite recently and know little about it. Who knows how the Book will react if I pass by an obvious crime? Maybe it won't react at all; after all, this young man is clearly not an earthling, and that means I am not his sheriff. But who knows how it will turn out in reality? And the symbol of Kamo on the fresh grave bothers me. It's not drawn just for fun, for entertainment.
"Five... Four... Three..." I began a slow and measured countdown. "Two..."
At this count, the stranger couldn't hold back; his gaze, all the while fixed on the Light-filled tip of the spear, faltered, and he spoke:
"Kamo's Right," the stranger whispered.
"An oath, revenge, I see," I nodded as if I truly understood him. "Go on."
The stranger looked around the homestead, and it was as if his core had been pulled out. His shoulders slumped, the sword trembled in his hands, and his voice turned hoarse as if he was holding back tears.
"I lived here..." he began his story. "Old Portnoh, a cruel beast, was my own uncle... I don't remember how my parents died; I was too young then. And he took me and my sister to raise... Raise... I was an animal here, a working beast!" His anger was so strong that it pierced through the years. "Portnoh, as well as his sons, tormented us in every way they could for years. To them, we were like no kin, not even human. Just another livestock in the yard... Bait for wild animals." Sounds harsh, but I remain silent. "When I turned a full dozen, Milnya, my own sister..." His words come with difficulty. "She took her own life, unable to endure the torment. She was only nine! Only nine... And I... And I... I didn't protect her... Couldn't..." The eyes of the man, who began to gray so early, are full of pain and self-disappointment. "That's when I made my vow to Kamo that I would have my revenge. I ran away from here and went in search of Power."
He's barely twenty-five, and he's Wootz. If you think of someone like Ender, who at fifty didn't reach this Step of the Spiral, the stranger clearly put a lot of effort into his Elevation.
His story, as I've come to understand, isn't all that unique for Ain. Whole kingdoms have perished like this. Someone offends someone else, and the latter grows in power - as earthlings would say, "levels up" - and returns for revenge. Such things happen here even more frequently than peasant revolts and uprisings on Earth. It's not quite commonplace, but a few times a year, something like this occurs somewhere. There's even a local term for such postponed vengeance - "Kamo's Right." It's believed that if the gods were against it, the one seeking revenge would not be able to follow their Path. And if a person has Elevated, gained strength, and ultimately taken their revenge, it means it happened with the "permission" of the Divine Executioner.
Nevertheless, this doesn't grant anyone impunity, and such individuals, if caught, can be tried by a human court. They can be judged, or they might simply be released, reasonably unwilling to punish a person for what a deity has blessed. The reasoning is that if you survived while executing your revenge, then you've proven your Right to it. The world of Ain is not a children's fairy tale; it's cruel and merciless. And the law... It can always be interpreted differently.
Rising from the bench, I put the spear over my shoulder:
"Did you kill all five lying there," I nod towards the grave, "by Kamo's Right?"
"Four of them. Tarkon, however... Tarkon was decent, but he drew his sword and entered the fight of his own accord." The stranger seemed to reply with a hint of sadness.
"I heard you."
Nodding, I step over the bench and, approaching my belongings, pick up the bags. All this time, the young avenger watches every move I make closely. But I show no aggression, and having gathered my things, I turn my back to him, all the while not dampening my Auras and remaining constantly ready for an unexpected attack. Afterward, securing the baldric of Boundless Pride on my back, I find the well-trodden path leading towards the sunset.
"Hey!" the stranger calls after me. "Sheriff! What about your judgment?"
But I simply walk away in silence.
I would have done the same in his place, and it's not for me to judge him. By my morals, this young man was within his rights. I touch the Guild Sign - it remains cold and indifferent. The Sheriff's Scroll, engraved on it by the will of a divine artifact, shows no interest in this whole affair...