Sam turned his head, and scanned the nearest weapon, a lance that glowed with a faint light. Its head was made out of crystal.

Kalabraki

F Rank Artifact(Lance)

The name of this weapon means Victory in the language of the Valan, one of the many alien races of this universe. Modeled after the weapon of one of their gods, this lance possesses great power, and the ability to pierce almost any defense. Wielding this weapon is said to be like holding the power of pure sharpness in your hand.

Special Skill: Pierce

Once per day, you can use this weapon to pierce through any substance, as long as it is under Mid E Rank in power. Using it near the peak of its ability might break the weapon.

The description was a bit odd, on account of it being an alien weapon, with different symbolism than the ones that Sam knew, but he could understand that this was a weapon on par with Mjolnir. He looked up at Manrox, impressed.

“How did you gain all of these weapons? There must be the wealth of a dozen worlds here.”

“With my trusty sword,” Manarox replied, patting the hilt of his blade. “Scan it, and you will understand what I mean.”

Vank-Erak

F Rank Artifact(Sword)

The legendary weapon of Alran, high god of the Grakoth. A god of brutality and sheer potency, his power is contained within the sword. The lightning of the heavens is contained within this blade, enhancing every strike with the most potent form of divine wrath that there is. Only the strongest of warriors can hope to wield this weapon, and it carries a weight that is metaphysical in nature. Only a true paragon of the Grakoth can hope to wield this blade to its truest potential.

Special Skill: Heaven’s Stance

You gain a passive Strength and Dexterity multiplier while holding this sword in both hands, embodying the fearless nature of the god who inspired it.

The latter part of the description explained why Manarox had been so powerful. With Sam’s stat multipliers, he should have been able to overpower the man, but it had not gone that way at all.

“An impressive weapon,” Sam said simply, closing the System interface. “I suppose you should scan my own weapon as well. I can see you trying to contain your curiosity.”

Indeed, the other man’s eyes kept drifting to Mjolnir, and as the weapon was on Sam’s belt, he had been tempted to make a dirty joke. However, it might not have gone down well with Manarox, or he might have not understood it at all. The man nodded and peered at the hammer, reading over its description eagerly. A few moments later, he was done, and he looked up at Sam.

“This Thor of yours seems to be a potent god indeed. How many sacrifices did you make to him in order to secure such a potent weapon?”

Sam coughed at this.

“I don’t… I don’t actually believe in Thor. Our race is one with many religions and systems of worship. There is no overarching faith that ties everyone together, as there likely is in your race. The System simply used our myths as inspiration.”

“So there were no Ancestral Overlords watching over your people, even before the System came?” Manarox asked, seeming surprised.

“As far as I knew, there were no gods watching over Earth. If they were, they certainly did not reveal themselves to me,” Sam answered. “Who are these Ancestral Overlords that you speak of?”

This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

“They are the progenitors of our people. They were the original patterns of our species, and even before the System came, they were extremely powerful. However, they were sequestered from us by that accursed machine, as they were deemed to be too much of an unfair advantage.”

Sam raised one eyebrow, and then realized that his face was invisible beneath his helmet. He took it off a moment later, revealing himself to Manarox. The other man had actually never seen what a human looked like, and Sam had been so used to wearing his armor by now that it had not occurred to him that his face had been hidden. In addition, he had hardly been planning to remove his helmet in the middle of a battle to the death. He was slowly warming to Manarox, and he wanted to make sure that any deal that they made was one that benefitted both sides equally. The other man was brutish and violent, but as far as Sam could tell, not evil at all. He was a warrior through and through, just like Sam. He only took it a bit farther.

Manarox peered into Sam’s face, studying his visage. Sam let the man do so, but after thirty seconds, it was becoming a little bit creepy, and he twitched, alerting Manarox to his face.

“How did your people survive before the System came? You are without natural armor or strength, and I assume that your females do not possess telekinesis?”

“Well, they used to say on my planet that death was the great leveler. It seems that the System has uprooted that sentiment.”

Manarox grinned.

“Well said. Now, we have a compact to make, do we not? Here, I will get some refreshments for us while we work it over. They will help with the injuries as well.”

The man snapped his fingers, sending a deafening boom through the air on account of his strength, and a smaller Grakoth came running in, bearing a tray with two cups and an opaque bottle on it. The servant set it down, bowing, and then retreated, seemingly in awe of his leader.

Manarox poured the liquid within the bottle into two cups, before passing one to Sam. After a moment of hesitation, Sam drank. There were better ways to kill him than poison if Manarox had really been planning such a thing.

He spluttered as he imbibed the drink, which was some form of super potent alcohol that cut straight through his resistance. It was mixed with a potent healing solution that began to knit his bones back together. After only a few moments, he felt pleasantly warm, and he let out a sigh of contentment, leaning back in his chair. Manarox quaffed his brew as well, and the man licked his scaly lips in appreciation.

“Good, is it not? It was made from the fermented milk of an F Rank blakutz, one of the many livestock that my people breed.” Sam nodded, and smiled slightly. It had been a while since he had felt anything from a good drink. “Anyway, onto business,” Manarox continued. “I believe that our initial plan was for you to assist in this little war in return for the alliance of my people?”

“Yes. I was planning on using this battle as part of my training in any case, and your proposition would only direct my efforts a bit more,” Sam replied, trying to gloss over the fact that he had killed many of Manarox’s race.

“Alright. I will not try to insult you with some offer of servitude. If my people respect one thing, that is strength above all else. Unlike the legions that I command, I actually respect your abilities as a fighter. For a naturally weak being such as you to have gained so much power is a testament to the resolve of your race, and unlike the dozens that I have plundered over the last few months, there is actually merit for me to ally myself and my race with you.”

“Where does your brother fit in with all of this? He is the Emperor, is he not? Do I need to talk to him first?” Sam asked, wondering how this whole thing would work.

In response, Manarox seemed to lose some of his composure, and he sighed.

“Elvaron is a great warrior, but he has many vices, some of which he is no doubt assuaging at this moment. Chief among them is the company of his concubines. He still trains harder than anyone in my race, save for me, but he is likely unavailable right now. I have the authority to broker a deal in any case.”

Sam could sense that he had offended the other man slightly, and he hurriedly steered the conversation away.

“Very well. After I help you with the fish people, how will we go around the alliance then? A System contract? Or is there some extra function of the faction interface that I do not know about?”

“The latter. After experimenting with the races that we have conquered, my people have discovered that a faction can enter into alliances with other factions, or create subordinate alliances where the other faction is slaved to our own. Obviously, the first one is the type that I would enter with you.”

Sam nodded, this all seemed to be fair enough. The only thing left to do was to fight.

“That sounds good. Now, I sense no need to prolong this fight for any longer than it needs to be. Shall we do this then?” Sam asked, clutching Mjolnir in excitement. For once, he would have the benefit of numbers at his back. Manarox laughed heartily, leaning over and clapping Sam on the back.

“That’s the spirit! We’ll make you into a proper Grakoth yet,” he said, rising. His sword sparked, as if in readiness for the battle to come, and he strode out of the room, and towards the elevator.