Orange rinds didn’t taste very good. Theo winced as he chewed through the tough exterior of the [Xotl Orange], forcing it down. It refused to go down without a fight. Salire watched nearby, her face tense with eager anticipation. When it finally hit his stomach, the alchemist shivered, then burped.

“Absolutely disgusting,” he said. “How did you convince me to eat it? I should have used [Reagent Deconstruction].”

“I just shouted ‘Eat it! Eat it! Eat it!’ and you did.” Salire clapped her hands together. “Come on. Tell me what the new property is.”

“Well, I’m understanding a few things about these mythical creatures. Assuming a Xotl is a mythical creature. They all enjoy one thing. Dancing.”

The property revealed by eating the rind of the orange was Xotl’s Dance. It didn’t take a genius to figure out where this was going. Each spirit fruit represented some mythical creature. Each of those creatures also represented an element. Dragons for Strength, Xotls for Dexterity, Gorgons for Vigor, Fairies for Wisdom, and Devils for Intelligence. The system had created lines between Demons and Devils, but the alchemist couldn’t figure out if that mattered.

A few customers arrived at the shop downstairs while they brewed a sample potion for the orange rind. Salire was dropping not-so-subtle hints that she wanted a promotion within the shop, and Theo pretended not to notice them. He didn’t know how much money they made offhand. He didn’t even know how much he paid her, and that’s the way he liked it. As long as the coins were flowing, there was no reason to care.

“I won’t promote you for no reason.” Theo fiddled with the new stills, sensing that it was near the end of its cycle. A slow drip of [Refined Xotl’s Dance Essence] was dripping into an open flask. “Just because you have the same cores as me, doesn’t mean you’re some big-shot.”

“Doesn’t it?” Salire asked.

Theo stood, gazing out the window for some time. She was more eager than he was when he first started. A person more deserving of Drogramath’s admiration than him by a long shot. She was harder working and smarter. But the dice fell as they did, and there was nothing he could do about it. “I want you to take it easy. You have certain disadvantages that I didn’t.”

“I’m not that much shorter than you are,” Salire said, holding her hand flat on her head. She swept it out through the air, coming into contact with Theo’s chin. “Less than a head shorter.”

Theo tried not to laugh, but he couldn’t hold it in. “Something I noticed about the system is that there are hidden things. Hidden attributes, hidden statuses… I’m sure I could think of more. No, that’s about all I can think of. Anyway, take willpower for example. I thought it was the representation of someone’s will, based on how their physical brain worked. Turns out, Tresk had overpowered willpower and no one knows why. Not even the gods.”

“So, my willpower is the problem?” Salire asked.

“No. I’m Drogramath’s Champion. Which means he gave me special powers and I don’t know what those are.”

“Well, that just gives us more reason to move me to full-time potion duty.”

“How do you figure?”

Salire withdrew a notebook, holding it up with pride. “Behold. How to be Good at Demon Alchemy and Other Stuff. What better time to doccument the differences between a normal person and a Champion?”

“Is that the name we’re going with for the book?”

“It’s a work in progress.”

Theo shrugged. “Alright. But you’re responsible for paying whoever runs the shop. Take it out of the money you give yourself from the shop.”

Salire blew raspberries. “Jokes on this guy. I don’t pay myself anything!”

Ignoring the statement, Theo turned to the nearest shadow. “Sarisa? Rowan?” An instant later, Sarisa appeared, shaking her head. “Please find someone to run my shop. I prefer Half-Ogres.”

It didn’t pass his notice that Salire blushed at the statement, turning away from the pair to busy herself sorting vials that didn’t need sorting.

“You’re missing a meeting.”

“Anything important?”

“Two controlled monster waves. Today or tomorrow. The containment tower for the ocean is completed, but Xol’sa wants to purge the lingering magical energy in the dungeon. Then he can tame it like he did the [Swamp Dungeon]. I told them you were low on the [Tunneling Potion], so they want to instigate another wave from the [River Dungeon]. The wizard is convinced he can influence what boss spawns.”

“Oh, that’s fun. Maybe I can do some damage during the next wave. Anything else that I should be aware of?”

“We have a small Harlag infestation. Aarok is working with Miana to train wolves to kill the critters.”

“And is that going well?”

“It is.”

“Perfect. Thank you very much, Sarisa. Take your time finding Salire’s replacement.”

“Understood.”

Sarisa vanished into the shadows. Baelthar was an interesting patron for the Half-Ogres. Like Zaul, all the subclasses that the Ogre god created had something to do with hiding. Well, he was the Ogre Patron of the Hunt, so it made sense. But between various cores offered by gods, they usually had very different kits. Luras had a ranged aligned core with Baelthar, and was often hiding before he struck with his bow. It might not be significant, but it certainly was interesting.

Theo picked up his newly brewed [Refined Xotl’s Dance Essence], swirling it in the flask. It moved like the tide, flowing from one side of the glass flask to the other unbidden. A mixture of dark green and pale blues, it was a pretty-looking essence. Salire was already setting up for the reaction, laying out the catalyst, water, and fresh decorative vial.

“Why do you like Half-Ogres so much?” Salire asked as Theo performed the reaction.

The reaction for the essence was less violent than the last. It swirled in the vial, like Theo’s thoughts churning in his head. A plume of green-blue smoke rushed from the top, filling the room with a haze. The extractor fans above them sucked the smoke out. “Marshlings are erratic. I don’t fully trust the Elves. Half-Ogres are honest and hard-working.”

“Well, I’m partial to Dronon myself.”

Theo gave her a sidelong glance. “No, you’re not. If you’re talking about me, I just have the shell of a dead Dronon. Although… the Dronon souls in my realm are all rather nice. Maybe I like the Dronon, too. Come to think of it, I’ve never been let down by a Toora. The bear-folk always have tea. And they’re great at baking. Have you tried a Toora god’s scones?”

“Why would I have tried a god’s scones?”

Theo withdrew one of Benton’s legendary confections from his inventory. He handed it over to Salire as he inspected the new potion. She took a small bite, let out a squeal of glee, then turned her attention to the potion while munching.

[Xotl’s Dance Potion]

[Potion]

Legendary

Created by: Theo Spencer

This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

Alignment:

Drogramath (Middling Bond)

Grade: Excellent Quality

Drink to create a Xotl’s Dance.

Effect:

The imbiber of this potion creates a shroud of water around themselves. Like the Xotl gracing the depths, this field repels all water based on the potion’s strength. Any creating entering the bubble of air will be hit with an instance of [Xotl’s Dance], inflicting damage and reducing their movement speed.

“That is a weird potion,” Salire said through a mouthful of scone.

This potion wasn’t dangerous. At least there was that. Theo’s mind stretched itself, trying to see how the potion would be useful for their underwater projects. But the problem with the potions derived from spirit fruits was one of volume. In his mind, he labeled this as ‘emergency potion for if I fall into water and still can drink a potion’. It was a very specific use-case.

It would be wise to spend an entire day discovering the various effects of the spirit fruit, but Theo had other things on his mind. He stowed away the newest potion, waiting for Salire to finish her scone before going into lecture mode. Grinding low-rank potions was fine, but if she wanted to have a fun time leveling between 10 and 20, she needed to understand how her mana worked. Looking back on it, the alchemist now realized why his low-level mana was so potent. It wasn’t the mana of a normal Drogramathi Alchemist, it was the mana of a Drogramathi Champion.

Perhaps these facts would give the young Half-Ogre an easier time with the progression, but it was still a labor. He wrote out a series of instructions for her to follow, then went through the cycles a few times. She had a hard time with it, but that was expected. The difference between them was that she was getting a head start on the matter. She wouldn’t need to struggle through it as much. Or so he hoped.

This was the perfect time for a break. Theo left the lab in Salire’s capable hands, then wandered the streets of Broken Tusk. He stopped by Whisper’s butcher first, finding one of his administrators ordering some sausages. Gwynestarea had been an intelligent member of the team from the start. As a Half-Elf from Veosta, she knew the meaning of working in an environment with many cultures.

“How’s it going, Whisper?”

“Very well,” Whisper said, gesturing to the air conditioner blasting ice-cold air. “Perfectly cold.”

Theo nodded with approval. “How about you, Gwyn?”

“Busy. As always. I hope you don’t mind, but I’ve been using your private bath.”

“Yeah, that’s cool.”

The alchemist lingered for a while, ordering whatever Whisper recommended. She had apparently become known for her spicy sausages. That was an unexpected turn of events, as Theo only viewed her as a base-level production asset. He never expected her to venture out on her own to make her own food. Once again, he was reminded that the peoples of Broken Tusk were inventive. He departed with a string of sausages after paying Whisper. Gwyn went her own way, off to the administration building, no doubt.

There were plenty of things for Theo to do. Even with that in mind, he returned to his manor with a string of sausages in hand. The faint buzz of activity echoed throughout the open spaces of the places, and he found his way to the kitchen. Fenian was talking with someone in one of the many drawing rooms, and someone else’s voices carried from somewhere more distant. Sarisa and Rowan had the kitchen fully stocked with food and cookware. A small stove, operated by an artifice flame, rested near a shallow bay window.

From the window, Theo could see the garden outside. Bilgrob was sitting in the garden, cross-legged with his eyes closed. The faint swirl of magical energies tinged the air, even from behind the window. He found a seasoned iron pan, placed it on the fire and fried up some sausages. The kitchen was immediately filled with sizzling, popping grease from the meat. An aroma like chorizo filled the area, drawing the attention of the other inhabitants of the manor.

“Cooking?” Fenian asked, wheeling himself into view.

Fenian had recovered from his wounds. Theo could see the spot where the new arm and leg had grown in, as they were far paler than the rest of his body. “Just felt like having something. You know?”

“I always feel like a sausage.”

“So, your plan. For me,” Theo said, pushing the sausages around in the pan. “Which realm do you need me to take you to?”

Fenian clapped his hands together. He winced, shaking his new arm as though the act was painful. His countenance recovered immediately. “Balkor’s realm. I thought you would have figured that one out by now.”

Theo flipped the sausages. They were burning on one side, while the other was mostly untouched. He adjusted the heat on the artifice, then removed the pan from the heat. “A dead realm, huh? You’re going to lure Karasan there. Then what?”

“Ah, that’s one of those spoilers, isn’t it?”

While he understood more about the realms every day, that was still outside of his reach. Logically, Fenian would want to trap Karasan somewhere that he couldn’t get away. From the stories the alchemist heard, they weren’t evenly matched. The Elf would win in a one-on-one. But the King of Qavell was slippery, falling through the various realms and the void to get away. He returned the sausages to the heat as he considered the implications.

“What are the chances you survive?” Theo asked.

“At least fifty percent.”

“Are you planning on resurrecting Balkor?”

“I hadn’t considered it, but that’s not a bad idea. How do you resurrect a god, exactly?”

Theo gave Fenian a flat look. While he always wanted to be annoyed with the Elven trader, there was a charm with his coyness. This little dance they did where the trader pretended that neither of them knew a damn thing about any of this. Yeah, his plan was likely to resurrect Balkor‌. It wasn’t a true resurrection. If what he had heard was true, gods didn’t truly die.

“I imagine bringing a powerful soul to his realm might work,” Theo said, removing the sausages and placing them on a large plate. “Of course, that soul must be willing to join the realm.”

“Must it?” Fenian asked. He winked. “I must have missed that detail. May I have one?”

Theo skewered one sausage with a fork, then handed it to Fenian. He grabbed one for himself, taking a tentative bite. It was hot in both flavor and temperature, forcing the alchemist to second-guess his decision. But the flavor was there. Good spice meant good seasoning, and Whisper had done an excellent job.

“They’re quite good,” Fenian said, fanning his mouth. “A bit too spicy for my taste.”

“So, you need a ride to Balkor’s realm. But you can already travel over the Bridge, right?” Theo asked. “But when you leave the bridge through your pact with Uz’Xulven, you’re violating the rules of the heavenly realms. But if I break the rules, what happens?”

“That’s for the Arbiter to decide.”

“That’s devious.”

“Indeed.”

“Will Karasan go for the bait?”

“He will.”

When Fenian was certain about something, that was the end of the conversation. They found their way to a sitting room on the first floor. It gave them a lovely view of the street outside. The people passing by. People that didn’t know they were conspiring to topple a kingdom—although what there was left of that kingdom was anyone’s guess. While the Elf claimed to dislike the spicy sausages, he helped himself to more.

“When you assume the throne, what changes?” Theo asked.

“Well, the thrones were always meant to be a means of regulation. A way for the best of the best in any realm to assume a seat of power outside the machinations of the masses. A system atop a system with someone at the helm.”

“That’s what Yuri did, right? He changed the way the heavens work.”

“Yes, but the thrones are connected. You see, Karasan is part of a group that believes the system is fine as it is. Do you agree with him?”

“I don’t have a say in that.” Theo paused for a moment, watching as a couple passed by on the street. It was hot out there. Sweltering, even. They held hands, pushing themselves close to each other as though it were a cold winter’s day. “Whatever my purpose here is, it's not to judge.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure about that.”

Theo shrugged in response. “I don’t think Karasan was running his kingdom well, but who am I to say? I’m not the judge that gets to condemn countless thousands to death.”

“Are they really dying, though?”

That was a discussion they had already had. Theo had no desire to retread old ground, let alone entertaining the idea of who was more worthy of genocide. It was an old song and dance he’d seen too many times on Earth. Maybe that meant he was numb to the entire process, making him the worst judge in this case. With Yuri calling the shots from his heavenly realm, that made things worse. But the fact was, Broken Tusk and the Southlands Alliance was in too deep and there was no point in pulling out.

But a Wisdom of the Soul message popped up that caught Theo’s attention. It was something that would have entered his intuition before, but he should have caught it on his own. Fenian was hiding something, that was obvious. But so was Karasan. The message claimed that the extreme measures the Elf was going through could only mean there was an equal measure on the other side of the coin.

Ignoring Fenian’s last statement, Theo said, “What is Karasan hiding? What sins is he carrying?”

Fenian smiled around a sausage, breaking it off then chewing for a moment. “Something I’m sworn not to tell. I’m not being slick with this one, Theo. I’m bound to secrecy. If this gambit fails, then eons of planning goes up in a puff of smoke. Just like that. Gone.”

“Message received,” Theo chuckled. This reminded him too much of the Berlin job. “I need time to practice, though. I interdicted myself into a lower realm, but the high heavens are far.”

“As long as you know the mission, I can wait.”

They ate the entire string of sausages together, sweating and discussing how much trade had changed. Fenian had been out of it for a long time by now, but his understanding of trade wasn’t limited by his condition. He had contacts around the world, feeding him price changes and trade route blockages. Their continent wasn’t as important as the others. Slagrot, the home of the ogres, had been completely unaffected by the undead. Tarantham, Partopour, and Bantein felt the reverberations of the undead but nothing terrible.

This world was built on the idea of construction and destruction. An endless cycle that the inhabitants became all too used to. That was the concept Fenian and Khahar wanted to destroy. No matter the cost, it was worth it. So long as Broken Tusk never came to harm.