Arkwall.

It was a heavily militarized city which lay on the southern border of the Empire of Novarria. Just south of the city were the Dokuhan Mountains, where the under-mountain confederation of the dwarves dwelled. And further south than that… the Badlands, a harsh and inhospitable place from whence frequent monster raids battered themselves against Arkwall.

It was heavily fortified and militarized for a reason. And it was also a popular town for adventurers, the last bastion of civilization and safety before they ventured down to the peaks of the mountains or worse… the Badlands themselves.

Orodan had been here before. And the reason he’d come then, was why he was here now.

It was also a test of his spatiomancy, to see if it could ferry him from the Republic to Arkwall. And it was a test he’d partially failed.

He knew how to perform Teleportation. However, the level of power required to teleport from Velestok to Arkwall was enough that his control over spatiomancy was the limiting factor. He had more than enough power, but without the System, not enough control to utilize it.

Oh, he’d still succeeded in the Teleport, managing to bring himself to outside of Arkwall, but he’d felt his control of spatiomancy more than a bit tenuous. He certainly wouldn’t be teleporting to the sun anytime soon, not until he shored up his foundations in spatiomancy. Still, it was something that could be improved upon.

Now, before him, stood the border city. It wasn’t big, but it did have walls which were crewed to the brim with soldiers and mages and armed to the teeth with artillery.

The gate commander, a Novarrian peltast on the cusp of Grandmastery, spotted Orodan’s approach.

“Hold! Who approaches Arkwall?!”

“I come to see Alovardo Balmento,” he declared. “Not here to cause any trouble.”

The peltast looked Orodan up and down, and a frown was on his face. As the seconds passed by, the frown only deepened.

“We cannot get any readings off of your soul. Is it under many obscurations and defenses?” the commander asked.

“Nothing in particular. Though, I suspect the fact that I no longer have a System might have something to do with it,” Orodan replied.

A bit to the left of the gate commander, was a golden griffin and its beast tamer. The griffin… Orodan got a vague feeling of anxiety and unease from it, and the beast tamer seemed to share the emotion. A pulse of dirty mana was shared between tamer and gate commander.

“Not even the beast tamer we have on retinue can get a gauge for your level of strength,” the gate commander said. Monsters, which griffins were, had an excellent instinctive sense for the level of strength someone possessed. Orodan himself had this ability due to the long years spent in the loops without really using Observe, upon sight he could tell what level of power someone was at. However, it was the same phenomenon he’d seen in the depths, where monsters simply couldn’t gauge him at all. “Allowing you entry into Arkwall would raise some security concerns. From where do you hail?”

“I’m from Ogdenborough, in the Republic.”

“Ogdenborough? That’s some small town of little significance,” the gate commander said. “For you to single-handedly make the trip from there to Arkwall is implausible. Who are you really? With all those soul protections on and even the griffin unable to get an instinctive read on you, what’s to say you aren’t possessed?”

Giving his name would’ve alleviated the issue, however, Orodan intended on remaining away from scrutiny for at least a little while this loop. It was why he’d used soul energy to shroud himself during the battle of Ogdenborough, and it was why he wasn’t giving up his name just yet.

Nobody on Alastaia was his match. But having his period of self-study and introspection for the purposes of repairing his System interrupted would be annoying and counterproductive.

“The problem then, is the question of how strong I am, correct?” Orodan asked and the gate commander gave a reluctant nod.

A problem easily solved. Orodan picked up a nearby tree, uprooting it from the ground, and proceeded to hurl it…

…at a distant mountaintop.

It was a good thing he’d felt no inhabitants upon it, for the sudden disappearance of an entire mountain in a booming explosion wasn’t good for the local wildlife.

“Will that suffice?” Orodan asked

For a moment, silence reigned. The men on the walls had stopped chattering, the wildlife remained quiet, and even the approaching group of wyverns which seemed intent on raiding Arkwall suddenly began flying back to the Badlands.

“Open the gate,” the commander said.

“S-sir… is he…”

“Our concerns are irrelevant when he has such power. You may enter, but I ask that you do not cause any undue trouble,” the commander said. “And know that our superiors in Novar’s Peak have been notified of your arrival and presence here and they may arrive to question you.”

Arkwall didn’t have an energy well. There was no item of extreme value within that the guards might fight to the death for. They had likely been instructed not to antagonize anyone who possessed too much power. It would be a futile act, especially when a call for backup would serve the same purpose but leave them alive at the end. If it wasn’t an outright attack, allowing a powerful individual into a city was the better option between attempting to stop them and receiving far more death and destruction as a result.

Orodan walked past the open gates and into the city. Most of the soldiers and mages refused to meet his eyes, and the few who did swiftly averted their gazes upon him returning the look. Naturally, the commander had sent out a dirty pulse of mana towards Novar’s Peak calling for assistance. Which was fine by him.

Still, for the moment he was past the gates of Arkwall and knew where his destination was. He’d traversed the city many times over the course of a set of fifteen-minute loops after all.

He walked the streets and recalled how there were no children within Arkwall, only various laborers, craftsfolk and specialists all at the Apprentice-level at minimum. Being on the southern border of Novarria and near the Badlands, Arkwall wasn’t a city meant for day-to-day regular living, and consequently the people within didn’t lead ordinary lives. Druhmiyan in the hells was somewhat similar in that people worked there, but didn’t raise their families there.

It went without saying that he was being watched. Not just from great distance by watchers atop the roofs, but also through the minor spatial fluctuations that he began sensing through which a skilled spatiomancer could view someone. Novarrian Intelligence Service no doubt. Though nobody approached him directly yet.

Just as he remembered, the lunatic’s manor was atop the same old dusty hill.

And he practically surged through the front doors and into the manor’s front foyer where a familiar old man was sat.

“No, you cannot go there, that will only make the breach even wider,” the man muttered, talking to seemingly nothing. “The rate of new breach-creation is intensifying… perhaps if we move the values around?”

“Alovardo Balmento! I’ve come to learn the ways of the System.”

“A walking, talking void… what are you?” the man asked. “No numbers, glyphs or values… not a single touch of the truth and the fabric which makes up the rest of us…”

“That… would be because I no longer have a System, courtesy of a Boundless One,” Orodan said. Prompting the man to tilt his head to the side in confusion. “You know what I speak of. The fact that you bear the Eldritch corruption within yet have not succumbed to it is proof of your reconciliation with the truth. Much like the being which empowers the very System, I encountered another, and it was far less amenable to the System within my soul.”

“The truth? You know it? The lack of numbers and values is also explained…” Alovardo muttered. “Which one was it? The slumbering child? No… too uncaring to do such. The lost sibling? No… too weak since its binding and imprisonment… wait, was it the sadistic one?”

“If by ‘sadistic one’ you mean that oversized pink thing which is responsible for the shards, you’d be right,” Orodan said. “It hit me with a shard the size of a planet, and while I managed to shield the important parts of my soul, my System paid the price.”

“Improbable. The sentries report no major breaches externally… though the number of internal breaches has suddenly spiked as of three days ago,” Alovardo muttered while looking at him. “The numbers also say that the odds of mind retention are impossible.”

“Well, what do you want me to say? The numbers advise you incorrectly. I held out and retained my mind and self against that thing.”

Though, against his own willpower the matter was a more tenuous one.

“Improbable, in fact, by all calculations and what the numbers say… impossible… oh but you’re saying he might be…” Alovardo muttered and then fixed him with a serious loop. “I see. You’re the reason for the sudden spike in internal breaches.”

“Internal breaches?”

“A cage. That is what we reside within. Breaches from outside are easily noticed, their reason apparent. The spellcaster and the big one deal with those,” Alovardo explained, and Orodan wondered if he was referring to the Warrior and the Mage. “The cage keeps not just us in though… but also the source locked in place.”

“The Boundless One empowering the System,” Orodan said. “The source of all Eldritch.”

“Divulge not the knowledge lest you make the ignorant susceptible to changes of an undesirable nature,” Alovardo chastised. “Though comprehending the nature of it is required before the vulnerability begins.”

And Orodan felt slightly guilty for having run his mouth about the situation the entire way here. Well, perhaps it was a good thing that only Adeltaj and Zaessythra knew the full truth, and even then, it took contact with actual Eldritch to then infect someone. Orodan would simply clean it all if it ever came to that.

“Still, this source being locked in the cage, what about it and the breaches?”

“The cage keeps the source imprisoned, an arrangement it has embraced willingly. Until recently, the only breaches the cage had were external ones,” Alovardo said, and Orodan was beginning to understand what was coming. “Since then, the breaches from within have suddenly spiked, and everyone’s left wondering just what happened. The values shift in a chaotic frenzy, and the cage shakes. The source is… panicked. The numbers and I can only postulate, but with your arrival of a most impossible nature, and that void you carry within your soul, the suspicion naturally falls upon you.”

“Well… you’re not wrong that this is likely my fault,” Orodan admitted.

Hells, he should’ve seen this coming.

The time loop mechanism.

In the last loop, when he’d connected to the very bowels of the System and gotten a glimpse of it all, he’d seen the Eldritch Boundless One within… but also the mechanism for the time loops. He still wasn’t sure exactly what it was, in fact, it looked markedly different from the System cage, as though it’d been tacked on and integrated but not originally of it.

That was beside the point. The important part was that Orodan had connected himself to the time loop mechanism. A mechanism that should’ve normally had the Eldritch Boundless One connected to it. In fact, Orodan had supplied so much power to the mechanism, that the time loop now went beyond just affecting the System universe, but now enveloped all of reality and the various Boundless Ones outside System space in the greater universe.

Naturally…

…the being empowering the System must’ve been quite confused and in a state of panic at the fact that its control over the mechanism had been wrested. In fact, Orodan suspected that the version of it he’d seen in the last loop simply hadn’t come back with him.

From its perspective, it’d come to, lost connection with the time loop mechanism and Orodan, and was now floundering about in the dark.

“Explain yourself.”

“I’m in a time loop. And I may have shunted the Boundless One out of it.”

“Intriguing… tell me more…”

And so, the conversation went on.

At least two hours’ worth of discussion. Alovardo Balmento was a lunatic, speaking to numbers and things that Orodan couldn’t really see. Yet, throughout it all, Orodan began to notice a strange energy around the man. It was hazy, and he only caught brief flickers of it, yet it was there. He’d never seen it before in his prior loops.

“And that’s the full story. Lacking a System, without many of my skills, and back at square one. Though, far stronger than when I started these time loops.”

“The numbers should know all… except in your case, where they are oddly silent,” Alovardo said, referring to Orodan. “Your tale is corroborated by their lack of answers.”

“While I might not have a System, you’re an odd case yourself. You’ve somehow come to terms with the Eldritch truth and don’t have any outward signs of corruption,” Orodan said. “I’d consider that rather impressive. I saw one other man who managed the same, and he seemed quite maddened by it even if the signs weren’t outwardly visible. Cleansed him and his behavior changed.”

“A dreadful ability… the numbers cannot fathom it either,” Alovardo said. “Keep that away from me, will you? I quite like my current state of enlightenment.”

It confirmed his theory earlier too. That someone’s level of infection and retention of mind while corrupted by the Eldritch depended entirely on how they handled the truth. A mighty peak-Transcendent Celestial like Jian Huangdi had lost himself, though that had been over many, many years. Whereas Alovardo Balmento was a Grandmaster, and yet the man had retained his mind… mostly.

“So… will you teach me?”

“To fix your state as a walking void? Oh? It simply cannot be done… not without a method of interacting with the source’s power directly. A mantle would be necessary,” Alovardo muttered while looking around himself. “Unless…”

“Unless?”

“Unless one weren’t a being borne of the source,” Alovardo stated, and then continued upon Orodan’s look of confusion. “Water cannot grasp water. Fire cannot contain fire. All of us within this cage, cannot interact with the fabric of the source for we are composed of it down to the core.”

Except…

“Except for me…” Orodan finished. “That Boundless One did me a favor… my soul weathered the storm and came out even purer. Not a single bit of the System remains within. I really am a being not composed of the System any longer.”

Which was in fact quite problematic if his goal was to repair his System.

“Water cannot grasp water… but earth might. Being of a different nature, the numbers and values may well be malleable,” Alovardo said. “The numbers disagree with me and think me a loon, but I suspect my differing opinion to be correct.”

“I think so too,” Orodan said.

System energy. Even the almighty Administrators needed their mantles to interact with it. And Orodan needed to trigger a trial of ascendance just to summon a solid connection to the System’s bowels so he could access a lot of it.

With that, a potential path opened up before him.

“I suppose I can attempt to teach you. Not even I can directly interact with them, only serving as an advisor and observer,” Alovardo cautioned. “But if anyone can be guided into touching them, it’s you.”

The numbers and values. This old lunatic must’ve been referring to the System’s glyphs and symbols. And it also must’ve been what that

“Excellent. I’ll need to be capable of it as a stepping stone.”

“A stepping stone to re-creating the System? An almost impossible feat, though if any being is situated to do it…”

Orodan accepted the mad man’s ramblings. Though, he felt somewhat dissatisfied at the thought of re-creating the System using its own energy.

Would it not simply squander the state of purity that the sadistic Boundless One had gifted him with?

For now, he would study, and he would learn.

Though, throughout it all, the inklings of a grand ambition began to forment within his mind.

#

Orodan had taken a massive step and done the impossible. He could now see and interact with System energy.

Controlling System energy was difficult, but possible. Something everyone else borne of the System needed special tools such as the Administrators’ Mantles to accomplish, Orodan could do himself. All thanks to his new and unique composition as a being containing no traces of the Eldritch Boundless One’s power.

The energy felt foreign to him, utterly alien in a way nothing before had. Furthermore, unlike everyone else he’d met who would’ve likely been corrupted by the excess of System energy… Orodan simply didn’t feel any corruption setting in.

It wasn’t because of his Eldritch Resistance - he wasn’t sure if that even worked correctly without the System - he could still feel when that skill was triggered and resisted Eldritch. Rather, it was as though he couldn’t feel the Eldritch corruption at all. Like water flowing over his form.

Alovardo also expressed surprise, but then postulated that Orodan’s unique composition as a being not made of the Eldritch Boundless One was what allowed this. He hypothesized that because everyone’s souls were composed of the Eldritch as they ran on the System, becoming corrupted by the Eldritch was akin to embracing one’s natural state.

Something which Orodan himself no longer had. Hence, no corruption.

In any case, the lunatic had put him through the paces in terms of reading material and various exercises. They’d studied for an entire day straight until the dinner with Adeltaj approached. And while the good news was that Orodan could interact with the glyphs and symbols of the System, the bad news…

…was that he was utterly inept at understanding much of it.

“The raw power and potential of a God and yet the mind of an unschooled babe. How many thousands of years have you spent inside this time loop without having any mental organization?” Alovardo criticized.

It wasn’t that Orodan lacked mental processing power. Far from it. Rather, it was his ability to recognize patterns, organize the glyphs and work backwards to get an idea of what the language and ‘code’ of the System did that was the issue. Without access to the System and the various skills he had, it was akin to starting from the most advanced of concepts while skipping the basics.

“Don’t you think your expectations are a bit high being a mind mage?” Orodan asked, taking no offense. It was true after all. “I’m perhaps less than a century old in terms of the time I’ve spent in the loops.”

Discounting the time where he’d lost himself while fuelling the time loop mechanism.

“They tell me that’s an improbably talented age. A shame you aren’t connected to the source any longer,” Alovardo said, speaking to something hazy and flickering that Orodan had now learned to see somewhat reliably. “Talent or no, your endeavors to repair the System within yourself will fail until you gain further mental acuity and learn how to organize the numbers better.”

Repair implied there was anything left of the Eldritch Boundless One and the System at all. He’d been hit with an attack of enough power to wipe out any System-related parts altogether.

Still… organize?

“What sort of things might help?” Orodan asked.

“I have a whole host of reading materials and mental exercises for you to work on,” Alovardo said, and while it seemed intimidating, Orodan was more than willing to tackle the challenge. “Though, throwing you into the deep end will not work, not when you’ve lost access to the System and the fundamentals must be re-learned. No, better you start off small, an academy might help.”

On the bright side, at least he wouldn’t have to bear with this madman’s habit of assigning him random texts and insisting he read only certain portions of them.

“I already plan on going to an Academy,” Orodan said. “Bluefire in the Republic.”

“Sub-par but meets standards.”

“Your descendent Ilevida is a teacher at Bluefire…”

“As I said, sub-par but meets standards.”

Harsh words. Little wonder Ilevida didn’t want to talk about this old codger when he questioned her long ago.

Organization though? Orodan had an idea for where he might get started with the beginnings of that.

They exchanged a few parting words where Alovardo gave Orodan some recommendations, and the two separated.

The streets of Arkwall were rather quiet on his way out, and he knew why.

After all, he’d noticed that he was being watched from the very beginning of his entry into Alovardo’s manor.

A spatial fluctuation occurred, and the wards of Arkwall allowed for it. Figures began to emerge.

He would’ve loved to stay and perhaps greet his watchers. However, he was already running late for the upcoming dinner he had.

So, with a quick flare of power and the shattering of Arkwall’s anti-spatiomancy wards… Orodan stepped back towards the Republic.

The event would cause some disruption and clamor no doubt, but Novarria couldn’t just enter the Republic in pursuit of him. Not easily, and neither would they deem it worth the effort when he hadn’t hurt anyone.

Now that he knew how to interact with the glyphs and symbols of the System, it was just a matter of practice. Until then, there was no real need to see Alovardo on the regular, not until he first shored up his mind and perhaps learned methods of mental organization.

And to do that, the Academy and ancillary activities outside of it would serve as a good stepping stone.

#

Unlike House Firesword’s dwellings, Simarji manor wasn’t at all ostentatious or gaudy.

It was a simple three floor building with spacious grounds surrounding it and enough space to host large gatherings if needed. Though, from what he’d been told, the gathering for today wouldn’t be such a thing.

There were two guards standing watch over the manor gates, an older man and a younger woman.

The guards of the house looked tough, and he recognized one of them as being a regular at the lumberyard as well. Rotating duty no doubt, and it was a good idea as it helped them build up their skills and remain in shape. Years of sedentary guarding were no good for a warrior.

He had no doubt that one of these Simarji guards was worth perhaps two of the House Firesword guards.

“Hold sir, you approach Simarji manor, might you state your name and business?”

“Orodan Wainwright. Here to attend a dinner with the old man.”

“Old man? Count Rohanus isn’t even…” one of the guards muttered, but the older one next to the woman had a look of understanding on his face.

“He’s good to go, let him through. The count’s older relatives know this man,” the older guard said. “Mister Wainwright, the count and… the elder, are expecting you.”

Adeltaj was a Grandmaster, and consequently, knowledge of the old Simarji wasn’t public. So, it only made sense that the younger guard didn’t catch on to who Orodan spoke of. The older guard seemed to have an inkling though.

He gave the guards a nod and walked onwards, only to see Adeltaj waiting for him halfway down the path to the manor’s foyer.

“I approve of the modest decor,” Orodan said. “Though there’s some subtle differences to the architecture I see everywhere else in the Republic. A nod to your roots?”

“Indeed, good to see you noticed. Our house’s roots are in the Eastern Kingdoms and the subtle differences in some of the archways and footpath tiling are apparent,” Adeltaj replied. “After our contributions in the Liberation War and the official migration of the Simarjis to the Republic, people were all too happy to have us here.”

“The Eastern Kingdoms and the Republic have always been close,” Orodan remarked. The history books spoke of their friendship and natural affinity, and how the two nations had naturally drawn closer to counter the threat of Novarria. “I can’t imagine anyone dared complain at the disregard for building regulations. Not that they’d get anywhere fielding that against a noble house.”

“Funny enough, House Altamari tried raising a stink about it. The Grandmaster of their house came by and tried throwing her weight around,” Adeltaj stated.

“And what then? If I recall, she’s a dual-Grandmaster, and while you’re probably the strongest single-Grandmaster I’ve seen, I can’t imagine the fight going your way,” Orodan said.

“Hmmph… if I recall, a version of me managed to achieve dual-Grandmastery in a loop of yours,” Adeltaj said. Yes, by sacrificing himself for Orodan. That was an experience best not repeated. “In any case, we never ended up coming to blows since old Arvayne came along and told her to get lost.”

Arvayne Firesword… his mentor was still under the control of Agathor in this new loop. Orodan swore to rectify that state of affairs.

“Subtlety isn’t your strong suit, is it? That murderous look on your face is scaring the birds away,” Adeltaj said, and Orodan only then realized how apparent his hatred for Agathor was. “Worry not, I’m sure you’ll have your opportunity soon enough.”

Frankly, Orodan had half a mind to march into Karilsgard and immediately cleanse all traces of the War God from Arvayne’s body. Still, he had to consider the long term, and that Agathor could wait for a little bit until Orodan had gotten all he needed from Bluefire. Currently, he was still away from the spotlight. Novarria wasn’t certain who he was, and the Republic simply thought he was a talented militia man, with House Firesword sure to try and find him.

Still, he was avoiding Burgher Ignatius and his house by going directly to House Simarji this time. And any thoughts of rescuing his mentor could wait until it was time to depart from the Republic.

“Hmmph… let’s not sully this dinner you have planned with such talk,” Orodan said, dismissing the topic even though it burned in the back of his mind. “I can’t say I’m much for these sorts of things, but you asked me to be here, and I couldn’t refuse that.”

“Take some time and learn to breathe a little, Orodan. Even an unyielding juggernaut of determination like you can only go so far before they need a rest,” Adeltaj said. The old man was wrong. Orodan really didn’t need a rest. In fact, he could power the time loop for thousands of years without stopping. That was something he’d kept to himself though. “You might just see some folks who you haven’t met in a long time.”

“Fair enough. Perhaps there are things to be learned through a slower pace at times,” Orodan said.

“Additionally, I normally wouldn’t think to have to say this, but given what you tell me of your decisions in the time loops I feel it bears mentioning,” Adeltaj said. “Please avoid telling anyone else about the time loops or the Eldritch truth you’ve seen in your journey across the cosmos.”

He supposed if his mentor was asking it, it was the least he could do. Orodan typically had a problem with being anything but honest… but nothing stopped him from simply declaring that Adeltaj had asked him not to say. He wouldn’t be lying, simply being honest that he couldn’t answer.

“Fine.”

“Well then, shall we bring you in? Rohanus has heard of you and some of my house’s folk would like to meet you,” Adeltaj said, and Orodan nodded following him inside.

Simarji manor was spacious and… warm. It wasn’t gaudy or empty like many of the other manors he’d seen. The staff looked to be in a good mood, and the sight of the old man didn’t make them wary or suddenly stiffen in any way. There were children playing around as well.

“Count Rohanus’s children?” Orodan asked.

“Oh no, despite my best attempts at matchmaking, I’m afraid my descendent has yet to find someone or even adopt a child into the family,” Adeltaj said. “These are the children of the manor staff and our retainers. Many of them reside upon our manor grounds.”

“Quite the bond of kinship,” Orodan said. “I’d heard rumors about it, but I see the familial bonds and traditions of the Eastern Kingdoms still shine in your house, even in the Republic.”

“Even monsters share bonds of kinship and family,” Adeltaj said. “Other noble houses look at us a bit strangely for being close to our retainers and staff, but it’s a tradition we gladly continue from our time in the Eastern Kingdoms.”

That didn’t sound so bad. And it showed in the faces of the staff, retainers and children playing around. The manor’s main hall wasn’t overly decorated either. Just some simple furniture, a few paintings, and the occasional magical plant which seemed to fit in very well.

In fact, one or two of the plants were talking ones which the children were playing with.

Unlike most manors he’d seen, the Simarjis’ dwelling wasn’t dressed to impress visitors upon entry. There were no attendants waiting hand and foot, and the actual gathering seemed to be in a dining room of sorts. At the end of a decently long hallway, was the dining room, and there wasn’t a table in sight.

Just a circle of cushions where various people were seated, and the cushions were around a generous spread of food which everyone was drawing from. And not only people were sat at the circle but pegasi and plants too!

“Not the typical dining room I’m used to…” Orodan muttered.

“Heh, you just haven’t been invited to dine with someone from the Eastern Kingdoms yet,” Adeltaj said with a chuckle. “Our pegasi and woodland friends are our equals and dine with us, not separate or in a kennel like those from the Republic or Novarria do. I believe the elves have a similar relationship with their bonded companions.”

“Like a barracks mess hall then?” Orodan asked.

“Like a family having a meal together,” Adeltaj replied.

“Hmm… never had one of those.”

The old man seemed a little remorseful for bringing up the topic, but Orodan didn’t mind. He had grown up an orphan but had made the best of his situation and come out stronger for it.

The dinner was already in full swing by the time Orodan arrived, and he felt a bit guilty.

“Old man… am I late? I thought it was on the hour,” Orodan said.

“I said that so you could make a suitably dramatic entrance,” Adeltaj said. “That and you’ve told me how impatient you are with these sorts of things. Having you sit around and engage in idle talk as the food was prepared would be counterproductive.”

“You needn’t have tried to accommodate me, but I appreciate it,” Orodan said, taking a seat at the cushion assigned him. Next to him, was Count Rohanus Simarji, who stood to shake his hand.

“You must be the young man the elder spoke of. Orodan Wainwright, was it?” the count asked and Orodan nodded. Adeltaj was the mightiest fighter of House Simarji, but Rohanus was the nominal head of the house who dealt with administrative matters and presented his face to the public. He was a Master-level healer and unarmed fighter of decent skill. At least, from what Orodan recalled from that one time he battled the man in one of his early loops. “Rohanus Simarji, Count of the Republic and member of the Council of Karilsgard.”

“And top of your class at Bluefire, and a previous winner of the Inter-Academy Tournament, and an all-around stickler for the rules who needs to lighten up a bit,” Adeltaj said. “Is that how you introduce yourself to everyone Rohanus? You’re not at work you know?”

“Elder…” the Count said, embarrassed and then cleared his throat. “In any case, welcome to Simarji manor, please consider this your home. My loyal house guards tell me you live in a… dwelling… in Ogdenborough. Allow us to host you moving forward.”

“That will not be necessary,” Orodan said. “My current lodgings are sufficient, and I don’t normally spend much time in them nowadays.”

“I told you he would be attached to his dinghy little hovel,” Adeltaj said.

Dinghy? Orodan didn’t disagree with the description, but it was his! And it was clean.

“As you say Mister Wainwright, I will not insist,” Count Rohanus said. “Our house is glad to have you all the same. I shall not speak much on business here as it would be poor manners, but your part-time tutelage at Bluefire has been secured.”

“Thank you. I have a few subjects that require further study,” Orodan said.

“Oh? Such as what?” a higher pitched and energetic voice asked. He’d noticed her from outside the manor. Orodan had tried not to appear the odd one by looking at her, but he’d forgotten how lively she was as she’d instead approached him. “Orodan was it? I’m Mahari. Mahari Ilya Vedharna, and this is my brother Altaj Ilo Vedharna. We’re also attending Bluefire!”

The wound had been fresh once upon a time. Long ago, this had been his friend, and they’d gotten along well. Yet when that particular loop had ended, Orodan carried on with a weight upon his heart for a while. Still, time had a way of dulling such things and healing them over, and Orodan had always been the type to resiliently push forward and accept loss.

And while what once was might not return… nothing prevented the emergence of something new.

“I see… are you a martial student then?” Orodan asked, amusement in his tone, while looking at her hands. “I notice your hands are callused, and your knuckles tough. Am I right to assume you like punching things?”

The signs were subtle but still there so that anyone observant enough could tell. Though he’d mainly said so in relation to how she’d thrown hands and pummelled her opponent in the Inter-Academy Tournament in a past loop.

The frown on her face was immediate and she pouted while her older brother laughed.

“I’m a mage! A mage! Not a sword-swinging brute!” Mahari said, indignant.

Heh. She was a mirror of how Orodan was when it came to magic back in the day.

“He’s got you there Mahari. You might try to hide it, but your hands don’t lie,” Altaj said. “As you can see, my sister has a hidden trick up her sleeve that she likes to keep to herself. Though you’ve seen right through it.”

“The calluses could be from any number of things,” Orodan said. “But the knuckles only develop that way when one’s been throwing and connecting with a lot of punches. Especially against metal in an attempt to condition the hands and build heavier blows.”

“Boo! You enjoy revealing people’s secrets!” Mahari said with a pout. “How do you even know these things? With how big you are, I doubt you’re just a crafting student.”

Count Rohanus intervened, shaking his head and beckoning Mahari to simmer down.

“That would be between him and the elder,” the Count gently warned.

“Pfft… fine, keep your secrets,” Mahari said and then stuck her tongue out at him, prompting Altaj to sigh next to her. “It’s not like you can keep your strength hidden for long at Bluefire.”

“On the contrary, Mister Wainwright will be attending as a part-time student,” the Count said. “Far less opportunities to get up to trouble and have his secrets revealed.”

“Bah, you’re no fun. I’ll find out one day Orodan!” Mahari declared.

“You will distinctly not be doing such a thing,” said a man from behind, causing Mahari to yelp and suddenly quieten down. He had a shield strapped behind him, much like Orodan himself. And the last time he recalled seeing this man was in battle against the Eldritch Avatar.

“Ances- I mean, elder!” Mahari said. “I wasn’t actually going to pry into Orodan’s secrets…”

“Good, and you better not as that’d be disrespectful to him and Adeltaj, our host,” the man said and then stepped forward. “Orodan Wainwright, I am Balaji Vedharna. Adeltaj spoke highly of you, which is a bit rare.”

“The old man does like to tease the younger generation a bit much,” Orodan said, causing Balaji to crack a smile.

The two shook hands, and whatever Balaji was searching for the man must’ve found as his eyes shifted from mirth to wariness upon trying and failing to exert even a gentle pressure upon Orodan in the shake.

“Heh, you know him then? Good,” Balaji said, releasing the shake and subtly cradling his own hand. “Glad to see a bit of youth inject itself into this fool’s life. If he had his way, he’d spend years at that silly little patch of forest.”

Orodan ignored the fact that he was probably older than Adeltaj.

“You mean where I hone myself daily in pursuit of the ways of the halberd? Don’t listen to this old fool, Orodan. His wits are addled from gallivanting around with that oversized housecat he calls a friend,” Adeltaj said, referring to the World Guardian, Sarastuga the Blazing Light, who Balaji Vedharna was known to associate with.

“And said housecat would eat you for supper if he caught you saying that,” Balaji replied, but with a smile. “Now then, let’s sample some of this food your chef has prepared. Let me see how the Simarjis have forgotten what real Eastern Kingdom cuisine is like.”

And so, they partook of the food laid out across the generous spread.

It was decent fare, Orodan thought. And while the cuisine seemed to be of the Eastern Kingdoms, the fact was that it’d been altered to fit a Republican or Novarrian palate. A shame, for Orodan was someone who enjoyed eating exotic and unique tasting things.

It was a smaller gathering, with only Adeltaj, Rohanus, the other Simarjis and some Vedharnas present. After dining, Orodan stepped out to the manor’s balcony where Adeltaj and Balaji joined him.

“I wasn’t aware your houses knew one another,” Orodan said.

“The Simarjis originate from the Eastern Kingdoms,” Adeltaj said. “And while they’re gone now, my mother and father knew old Balaji well.”

“They were good folk. In any case, when Adeltaj sent a message saying he’d stumbled across someone of shocking strength, I felt the need to come along for dinner,” Balaji said. “And might I say Adeltaj, your house has forgotten how to make authentic Eastern cuisine. It was decent, but quite Republicanized.”

Adeltaj merely rolled his eyes and then pointed to Orodan.

“Well, here he is. Did you want to duel him to verify the claims?”

“Duel him and cause mass destruction? I think not,” Balaji said. “In any case, I know the outcome. Orodan Wainwright would best me without any struggle. My Mythical skill allows me to peer into the internal makings of someone’s body. And while your soul is utterly alien… your body is without a doubt a freakish product the likes of which I’ve never seen. You could destroy the entirety of the Republic if you so wished, couldn’t you?”

More like the entirety of Inuan and possibly Alastaia.

“Perhaps. What are you trying to ask?” Orodan said.

“In roughly six months’ time a foul comet wil-”

“The Eldritch Avatar. Worry not, I shall deal with it,” Orodan declared.

“You know of it? And you claim you’ll simply deal with it?” Balaji asked. “Do not underestimate it my young friend. I know not how you’ve attained your strength, whether reincarnator or Avatar… but it’s a possessed-”

“Void Horror. The one that was sent out into the void between stars by the Gods thirty-thousand years ago,” Orodan finished. “I know. As I said, I shall deal with it no matter how many Eldritch Gods are puppeteering it.”

At such a bold declaration, the quadruple-Grandmaster of the Eastern Kingdoms could say little else.

“I told you, old Balaji, he’ll suffice,” Adeltaj said.

“And what aren’t you telling me?” Balaji asked. “His soul is like a blank void and my instincts tell me nothing either. And while I sense his body it defies reason. How can he be so strong?”

“Some things will simply have to remain secret I’m afraid,” Adeltaj said. “Regardless, I believe he has the best interests of Alastaia at heart.”

“Then I must ask… are you really Orodan Wainwright? The same militia man the records speak of from a small town near the mountains?” Balaji asked.

“One and the same.”

Balaji was quiet, and the man seemed to ponder on a few things.

“There have been a few… suspicious events recently,” Balaji said. “For starters, someone shattered the anti-spatiomancy wards at Arkwall in Novarria. Naturally, the imperials are on high alert. And then, some master thief broke into the White Cloud Clan’s vault and stole something.”

“The White Cloud Clan’s vault? What do you mean someone broke in?” Orodan asked, though he already felt he knew the answer.

“Something was stolen from them, from the repository of cursed items actually,” Balaji said. “Quite the talented thief too. There was no sign of any tampering whatsoever. As though the item simply vanished from existence…”

Huh… so that was what happened when a person or item was dragged along in his soul storage. Its position within the loops also changed. Zaessythra was still slumbering soundly within his soul, but he would have to discuss the matter with her at some point when she woke up.

“Fascinating… I haven’t been to the Eastern Kingdoms in a while,” Orodan said. Which was technically true. Though Balaji didn’t look like he believed that for one second.

“That, and the events which occurred in Ogdenborough on the same day,” Balaji said. “And now you suddenly appear bearing the name Orodan Wainwright. Who are you really?”

Who was he really?

“I’m a ti- I mean, I’m not allowed to say, as per the old man,” Orodan said, catching himself.

Close one.

And the audible sound of additional footsteps coming saved him.

“I heard you mention Ogdenborough. You were there?” Mahari asked as she stepped out onto the balcony herself. “What even happened? It’s all everyone at Bluefire can talk about for the last few days.”

“Oh, that? Just an ancient machine, northern raiders and a group of traitors to the Republic.”

“Really? The papers don’t mention any machine…”

“Child… have I not told you to avoid pestering our guests about their personal affairs?” Balaji asked.

“Eh? I was just following your example elder!” Mahari said, with a bit too much cheek perhaps.

Balaji looked unamused at the retort but gathered himself.

“The youth shames me to my senses. She is right, your affairs are no business of mine, Orodan Wainwright,” Balaji Vedharna said. “Though, I hope to see you for the event we spoke of.”

Mahari looked confused, but Orodan knew the old Vedharna was referring to the Eldritch Avatar.

And of course, he would be there. But for now, he had two main goals before him.

Learning the crafts to an extent where he could repair the ancient machine and have it capable of serving its true purpose; that of connecting to the bowels of the System. And learning Enchanting and the various runic scripts to the point where he could repair the System within him. Additionally, learning skills from the ground up would be a nice bonus, and he was continually striving to improve his combat power.

Still, his time at Bluefire was on a deadline, particularly since he was being hunted. Not by enemies which posed any threat to him, but those who could inconvenience him from his learning.

Novarria was on the hunt for an unknown Grandmaster who’d interfered at Mount Castarian, and he’d also broken the anti-spatiomancy wards at Arkwall. Suffice to say, the Imperials were looking for him, even if they didn’t know who he was at this exact moment in time.

He had plenty of learning to do and a vague deadline, so he’d best get to it.

#

Funny enough, not only had Orodan refused to ride a griffin to the academy, but the beast likely wouldn’t have been a good fit for him anyway. Griffins, like the overwhelming majority of monsters, relied on their instincts to gauge people. And when someone like Orodan came along and gave off no reading whatsoever? The creature was undoubtedly a bit unnerved.

In any case, he’d quite enjoyed the walk to Karilsgard and the subsequent stroll through the streets of the capital. True, he was continually training Vision of Purity throughout his walk, and also reading a number of books, but Orodan could still enjoy the sights in and of themselves. Even on Alastaia, the city of Novar’s Peak outshone it for size and grandeur, let alone all the other fantastical cities he’d seen across the various worlds. Still, it was somewhat sentimental, and it was the capital city of his home nation.

Nobody had really stopped or interacted with him, aside from the natural distance and glances he got for being rather big. Although he saw a few of the city watchers giving him odd looks as they failed to get a proper read on his soul. And given the casual pace of his walk they had more than enough time to act on it too, which meant House Simarji must’ve put in word for his presence.

Coming into Bluefire Academy on foot required going past the Cathedral of the Prime Five and the High Forges, followed by going beyond even the Palace and the High Spire. It was essentially a tour of the city’s landmarks, and this was likely the route which visitors to the city were shown on their first trip.

Orodan had seen all these places before, but the view wasn’t a bad one.

He continued up the main path to Bluefire Academy but instead took a detour to make way for the landing zone for all aerial traffic. And it was there that he saw a familiar face, alongside two pegasi.

“Mahari,” Orodan greeted from over the top of his book.

“It’s you! Orodan Wainwright!” the dark-skinned girl exclaimed.

“You needn’t say his name as though he’s some diabolical villain who’s appeared before you in an adventure tale…” Altaj muttered, amused yet resigned with his sister’s antics. “Good to see you again, Mister Wainwright.”

“Just Orodan is fine,” he remarked. “You’ve returned from securing feed for your battle-companion?”

“Why yes, how did you know?” Altaj asked.

“See? He is some sort of diabolical villain! He knows things he has no right to!” she exclaimed. “Next thing you know he’ll be taking over the world.”

“Not as satisfying as you would think,” Orodan said with a smile, causing Mahari’s eyes to narrow. “And I suppose talking to people while peering over a book does seem a slight bit villainous.”

“What are you reading anyways?” Mahari asked, and then frowned as she looked upon the title. “Ugh… puzzles. I hate those. Why are you bothering with that slog anyways? The only people who try to study those are students attempting to acquire higher rarity skills related to certain crafts. That… or… mind mages!”

“I’m not a mind mage,” Orodan flatly corrected. Once, he’d have been offended at being called a mage at all. At least some progress had been made in that regard.

“That’s exactly what a mind mage would say,” Altaj chimed in, an amused smirk on his face, and Mahari nodded along.

Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings.

“Sure, feel free to call me a mind mage then,” Orodan said with an eye roll. “Puzzles are good for honing one’s mental faculties, and I have a goal which requires they be sharpened. Though, I’m curious to hear what crafts this might be helpful for.”

“Artificers and enchanters at the lower levels are known to cross-study such things, as you said, it helps the mind develop and see things in unique ways,” Altaj said.

Interesting. Orodan had both of those classes on his schedule and planned on delving deep into the secrets of them.

“In any case, we don’t mean to keep you. We were just heading back to the main tower now that Olsinius has returned from a brief trip to his clan,” Mahari said. “Dealing with security issues in the wake of the recent breach of the White Cloud’s vaults.”

The incident Orodan was indirectly responsible for via dragging Zaessythra along into his time loop.

“Hmm, I was heading that way as well. I suppose I’ll tag along,” Orodan said.

“Eh? House Simarji didn’t arrange a guide for you?” Mahari asked. “With how elder Adeltaj insisted you be invited to the manor and sponsored you… that’s strange…”

“Not at all. I refused it and felt the assistance unnecessary,” Orodan said. That and having been to Bluefire in the past.

Mahari seemed perplexed but accepted it. And the trio continued walking down the road towards the main tower of Bluefire Academy. And all the while, Orodan continued reading his books.

Puzzles.

These were the key to developing his mind and mental organization abilities. These would allow him to properly comprehend the language of the System. The beginner puzzle books Orodan had picked up from a library were utterly basic, meant for not just beginners…

…but children.

It wasn’t that this was the level he was at, but rather that there was just so much depth and diversity in the sorts of puzzles and basic exercises in children’s books. Adults often took many things for granted; the System of course didn’t help matters by providing a crutch.

But where else did mastery start if not from the very basics?

Cartoonishly easy puzzles about shapes. Insultingly rudimentary problems regarding mere wordplay. And many more questions which targeted a child’s concepts of language, numerals, problem-solving and identification. They were utterly basic.

Yet, building from these laughably basic puzzles was how Orodan intended to hone his foundations in the path to strengthening the mind. Without the System, he felt it important to truly focus on the basics. And after such low-level texts? He had a few dozen more prepared books which delved into more advanced puzzles.

Still, the concept must’ve appeared ridiculous. Given how a few students were snickering once they caught onto the title. Furthermore, one particularly bold student almost reaching Orodan’s own size appeared bold enough to try subtly walking into him.

Unfortunately for the pitiful martial student whose arrogance surpassed his sense, Orodan simply continued walking and the boy was practically bowled over and embarrassed.

“Hey! You knocked me over!” the student cried from their position on the ground.

“And you tried walking into me deliberately. Go play with someone else, I have studying to get to,” Orodan said.

“Y-you… Elucian Arslan will hear of this!”

Hells… were all the children at academies such snivelling fools?

“Alternately. Have you considered not bothering with such pitiful games and actually utilizing the education your noble parents have doubtlessly paid great sums for?” Orodan asked, not even looking up from his book. “You’re handed an opportunity that those from an impoverished background would sell an arm and a leg for, and what do you do? You play a silly game of schoolyard politics. If you’re going to play around, at least start a brawl and learn something about combat from the ensuing beating.”

In his first loop at Bluefire, he’d displayed such strength that the only person attempting to challenge him had been swatted away like a fly. Now though, he was a relatively unknown crafting student reading books which were weird to most people.

It was… such a stupid thing.

Orodan wasn’t the seventeen-year-old from Ogdenborough anymore. He had seen the cosmos, battled titanic foes, and grown. Yet, silly as it was, that small part of him which recalled how difficult his own life had been bristled at the thought that these noble fops would waste their time playing games and politicking instead of seeking true strength.

The boy ran off in shame, clutching his arm which was likely broken.

“That sounded personal…” Mahari said, more sombre than she’d been before.

“Growing up without a mother and father has a way of forcing one to mature quickly,” Orodan said.

Early in life, even before the time loops, he’d been forced to kill someone. When had these noble brats ever had to struggle? To many of these children, the Bluefire Academy was just another step in their lives.

Noble childhood, tutors and expensive mentoring in the pre-academy phase, followed by Bluefire. The lucky ones even got to taste combat in a controlled setting beforehand. How… pathetic.

Where was their necessity? Their gratitude for being given the opportunity they had? That desperate hunger and drive to reach for more, not because it was a natural or nice step forward… but because it was the only way out?

Everything that fools like that student took for granted, Orodan had to fight for. Bluefire? He’d have been elated to enter any academy at all. He hadn’t joined the county militia at sixteen for fun or as the natural next step funded by a noble family. It was to escape impoverishment and better his own life.

Even with all the power in the world… people never truly changed at core. They merely evolved.

Orodan, despite his ability to destroy worlds and fight foes of a cosmic nature, still found himself oddly offended at the notion that fools like this would waste the precious chance to learn and gain strength.

He’d had no noble tutors or supervised opportunities to kill slimes and wolves. Where were his parents and idyllic childhood?

“Are you okay, Orodan?” Altaj asked, worry in his eyes. “You appear a bit bothered.”

He exhaled and allowed that train of thought from the inner seventeen old orphan to wash away.

Who knew that he could still feel such an oddly human bout of anger?

“I’m fine. More than fine actually,” he replied. He felt light, as though understanding more of himself.

No matter how powerful one became… who they were at core never changed.

No matter how mighty the body, how abundant the power… Orodan would always remain an orphan who grew up fighting for scraps.

And when all else was stripped away…

…he would always be a warrior.

#

“No… no! Your hand is quite unsteady, and I cannot fathom how you’re incapable of such basic enchanting script,” the woman said with an impatient tone. “Have you truly come to Bluefire just to repeatedly fail at the basics?”

“On the contrary, failing at the basics till I perfect them is exactly what I need.”

It was the path to true mastery.

Registration had gone smoothly, with the supervisor of registrars, Karthic Bushnell, enrolling him in his four selected courses.

Enchanting, however, was not going smoothly.

The enchanting chisel in his hand felt both foreign and at home. On one hand, he was really struggling with the basic etchings and very simple parts of the Imperial enchanting language. On the other, he had produced a moment of shocked silence and frustration from the teacher when he’d displayed a failure of a piece which had certain parts correctly done at a level only an Adept enchanter could manage.

Still, while Enchanting was a nice skill to hone - and it was definitely a goal of his to eventually master - his primary target lay not in the enchanting itself, but the script language and his understanding of it.

Yes. Orodan was attempting to better develop his future attempts with the language of the System by first trying to understand a far more rudimentary language, which was the enchanting script of the Imperial tradition. He’d also dabbled a little bit in the enchanting script of the Eastern tradition too, though fitting everything into the period of one class was unfeasible.

For the first day, his progress wasn’t as bad as he thought it would be.

Next to him, the class prodigy was looking at him oddly.

“You… make no sense. You fail at the basics and yet perform feats” the girl declared. “Are you some sort of talent scout?”

“If I was, you’d be moved up a few years,” Orodan said genuinely. The girl was quite good and probably the second-best enchanter among Bluefire Academy’s current crop of students. Her only competition and better being a fourth year who didn’t have her level of talent and had three years of official education on her.

Of course, a seventeen-year-old was liable to take honest praise the wrong way. Particularly one who specialized in a profession whose adherents were known for being buried in books and lacking in social acumen.

“I-I see… are you perhaps-”

“No. It was honest praise, and that’s all it was,” Orodan said, swiftly shutting her down.

He continued working, focusing not on the quality of the enchantment itself, but his understanding of the Imperial enchanting script language. How did the meaning of an enchantment come about? Why did the sigils and symbols being arranged a certain way lead to particular outcomes?

Like Alchemy, Enchanting also had certain pre-set enchanting patterns and script arrangements. And assuming the quality of materials and the power of the enchanter was equal, these would lead to standardized outcomes no matter who did them. Experimentation was dangerous, and in the realm of Masters and Grandmasters.

The actual execution of the enchantment was one aspect of Enchanting, typically focused upon in the lower levels. But the understanding of the actual enchanting script itself was another aspect, and at a far higher level.

Which was why Orodan, who’d formerly been an Adept-level Enchanter before the destruction of his System, was having a hard time with it.

The Imperial enchanting script was the simplest script language out of all the targets he had before him, yet it was still complicated. Though, the process of understanding it was good training for the mind.

Still, unyielding mental focus and a mind of steel had some benefits. And among them was the ability to strain his mind and focus in order to comprehend concepts and patterns he wasn’t yet meant to approach. The class was slotted for an hour, but time dilation wards meant that it was stretched out to eight. And none of the first-year enchanters were capable of giving their peak and uninterrupted mental effort for eight straight hours like Orodan could.

Sleep? Rest? The break periods in the middle of class were left unused by him.

With time, effort and consistency, even initial failures could be turned the other way round.

“I must admit, your attempts have gotten better. I would pronounce your latest piece, passable even… acceptable,” the teacher said. “If you spent less time staring at the script and trying to burn a hole into it and more time actually enchanting, I daresay you’d be even further along by now. Have you finally gained some skill levels that we might be spared the sight of such impossible mistakes?”

The teacher was understandably perplexed. At a certain skill level, and bereft of any distractions or stress, mistakes were supposed to be impossible. From her perspective he was either stressed and anxious, or genuinely had a very low level of skill in Enchanting.

“I’ve gained skill.” Something far more valuable than mere skill levels, Orodan thought.

“Teacher… I do not think Mister Wainwright is trying to perform standard enchanting. Rather…” the class prodigy trailed off, waiting for Orodan to finish.

“Right. I’m trying to understand and make sense of the Imperial enchanting language itself,” Orodan declared. “Even in a script language so basic, the functions and inner workings have quite some depth.”

“B-basic?!” the teacher exclaimed. “The Imperial tradition is anything but!”

He doubted she’d be saying that if she spent some time around dwarven runic enchanting or the script language of the devils. Now those were some complicated languages, and far closer in similarity to the language of the System than the basic Imperial enchanting script was. In any case, her arrogance was borne of ignorance.

“As you say,” Orodan dismissed. “Class is at an end, and I have more learning to do.”

With not a word more, he rose from his seat and dismissed himself, stepping out of the room just as the time dilation wards shut off.

His Celestial skills were unaffected by the loss of the System, and a skilled application of the Whirlpool Whirlwind aspect of Domain of Perfect Cleaning allowed him to hover two books in front of his eyes at the same time as he made way for the next class.

Alongside his trusty puzzle books, he was now also reading books on the theory of Imperial enchanting and the script itself.

The study of magical and esoteric script languages. Did that make him some sort of linguist?

His musings continued as he read, and before long, he was within the hall for the next class. One that would either prove to be a complete waste of his time, or someplace he could acquire materials to reference and study from.

Ancient history. A second-year class which drew few students besides aspiring members of the Cathedral and military historians who hoped to join the Republican army. And Orodan had come in at an opportune time, as today, the topic was a relevant one.

“Take your seats and turn to chapter thirteen where we left off. I shall assume everyone has done the required reading,” the aged and frail looking teacher said. The man was no combatant. “Today we shall be covering the pre-battle preparations made by commander Arshan Vedharna during the counter-invasion of the hells. Can anyone give a recap as to how and why this counter-invasion took place?”

A hand was raised, and an imperiously dressed student answered. Must have been from a military family.

“Sir, the political situation between the Empire of Novarria and the Eastern Kingdoms was notoriously unstable, and in an attempt to foster better relations after the previous border skirmishes of 13890 AE, the decision was made to participate in a joint effort to enter the portal provided by the grace of the Prime Five.”

Which was blatantly false as it wasn’t the Prime Five which had created the portal, but the Conclave, and they’d done it for many worlds which had faced demonic incursions and were itching for a chance at retribution. In coordination with the Conclave’s own assault, this had led to the destruction and subsequent colonization of the seventh layer of the hells.

From his time across the cosmos, Orodan knew that the devils of the hells still bore the scars and resentment of that loss, but they had only themselves to blame. Well before Orodan’s time, Alastaia itself had faced invasions from demonic warbands, composed of wild demon tribes or those affiliated with cultists. And even if no actual Devil King had invaded, the fact was that attacks from the hells still came forth. Led by wild demon warbands or cultists who were outside the authority of the Devil Kings, these demons invaded many worlds and were what caused the hatred for demonkind across the cosmos to linger.

Even if the Devil Kings themselves invaded worlds rarely, and in a far cleaner manner, their failure to control this rogue element of their population came back to bite them.

“Good. And let us not forget, that a prior incursion by the foul devils a mere five-hundred years before that was still on the minds of Novarrian and Eastern leadership,” the teacher said. “This led to the historical counter-invasion of the hells in 14210 AE.”

The current year, at the beginning of the loops at least, was 19209 AE. Which was that many years after the foundation of the Empire of Novarria and the establishment of Novar’s Peak. The invasion of the hells had taken place roughly five-thousand years prior.

The class continued, and most of the material was quite doctored and full of revisionism and told from only the perspective of the Alastaians. Though, Orodan was sure that certain ‘historical figures’ the teacher spoke of during this invasion were people he already knew. Such as a man shrouded in a hood with a strange crown launching purple energy. Balastion Novar. Or a friendly elf who could pacify many of the demons encountered with just his voice? Eldarion. Many of the more powerful dragons of the continent had also ventured forth on the counter-invasion.

“Now then, we have here a number of images and carvings taken from that historic expedition,” the teacher said. “Here, a carving of an Arch-Devil ruling with tyranny over its subjects. And to the side here, a carving of their foul and wicked tong-”

“The script language of the devils,” Orodan said, standing up and walking over to the desk, picking the carving up and looking at it closely. At the same time, a scrying orb came forth from his spatial ring and recorded a perfect snapshot of the carving for later reference. “Do you have any more carvings of the sort? I’m quite interested in their script language.”

“That is… at least ask for permission if you’re going to rise from your seat young man,” the teacher chided. “In any case, we have a few more carvings of their vile font which I can show.”

“What about an item enchanted with the actual devil’s script? Do you have such a thing?” Orodan asked.

“Why Gods no… that would be a collector’s item worth more than anything I’d ever be allowed to hold in my hands,” the teacher replied. “In fact, I can’t recall any vault on Inuan having such a thing.”

“The historical accounts, do they say who might have such an item? Surely the expeditionaries looted a few choice pieces of equipment from the devils during the counter-invasion,” Orodan remarked.

“In truth, all we know is that the elves had a falling out with the then emperor of Novarria over the division of spoils,” the teacher answered. “The argument is recorded as being somewhat tumultuous and ended with the elves taking more than they should have for what they felt were greater contributions to the fighting.”

Hmm, something to consider.

“Why do you show such interest in the script language of the devils my boy? Such is the territory of demon summoners, and let me tell you, not only is such a thing illegal, but also quite dangerous,” the man said even as he produced the other carvings showing depictions of devil script language. “There are other avenues to increase one’s power than summoning dark forces from beyond this world.”

“I have no interest in summoning devils, they’d only slow me down and be of no help in the sorts of battles I get into,” Orodan answered. “The properties of devil script do interest me though. Particularly how it shares some vague similarities with the Imperial enchanting language and how it’s clearly evolved past that.”

That, and his spatiomancy was more than a bit compromised and he had few reliable ways of getting to the hells at this time.

The teacher for ancient history must’ve been a bit of an Imperial supremacist, or a Cathedral stooge. For the man took quite some offense to the suggestion that the devil script language was superior to the enchanting language used by enchanters of the Imperial tradition.

The man ranted and raved for a bit, though Orodan tuned him out and simply looked deeply at all the carvings present, taking snapshots with the scrying orb as he did. As he suspected, the devil script language was quite a bit more advanced than the enchanting language taught at Bluefire which followed the Imperial and, in some cases, the Eastern way.

The devil script language was incredibly complex, and Orodan would certainly need the practice and study of the simpler Imperial enchanting language first. And yet… the devil’s script was probably the one most similar to the language of the System.

“And that’s why one cannot consort with devils or attempt to pry too deeply into their language!” the teacher finished. “Are you even listening, young man?”

“Not really. Though, I’ll have to thank you for giving me a solid direction to progress in,” Orodan said. “Can’t say I’ll be bothering with this class after today though.”

He had more important classes. Particularly ones that would allow him to work on restoring the ancient machine.

#

Blacksmithing had gone… decently. Even if he’d had to swat a few idiots aside.

Orodan couldn’t believe he was saying that about the craft at all. It had always been a serious weak point of his, something the System believed him to have no talent in. Yet, when the crutches were taken off, he was forced to adapt and grow by perfecting the very foundations of the craft.

Each hammer stroke had to be perfected. Every minute detail attended to. The temperature, the quality of the metal, the air content within, the mixture proportions of any alloys he worked with. These things were normally taken care of by the System as he gained skill levels, and the levels simply came through rote grinding and repetitive motions.

And yet…

…they also robbed the untalented of the chance to really learn things from the ground up by making mistake after mistake.

This was the real limiter of the System. If Orodan was an untalented smith who had absolutely no intuition for the art, even if very slow, enough repetition and effort would have him advance to higher levels of Blacksmithing. He would lose the ability to make mistakes with the basics. The crutch would be applied and make his Blacksmithing better in the short term, but at the cost of forever losing the opportunity to truly perfect the basics. This was why so many people were stuck on the cusp of a tier advancement. They’d never truly gotten the chance to work with the basics before the crutch came in and they gained skill levels.

This phenomenon was why two people could have the same skill levels but different output. The talented and introspective smith who was a true genius would hone, innovate and pioneer his own skillset and actually learn from the failures and basics. The untalented however were forced to become ‘locked in’ as the crutch was given to them without any choice.

And now without the System crutch… progress wasn’t fast. But Orodan’s countless mistakes in forging had allowed him to gain a greater grasp on Blacksmithing. It had been a good class where even the class prodigy of the first-year smithing course had seemed impressed with how Orodan was dedicated to learning from failure and shored up his foundations.

After Blacksmithing though, came the last class for the day. One which Orodan found quite intriguing.

Artificing.

A class which focused on a multidisciplinary approach to creating magical objects.

And the teacher at least seemed willing to humor him as she looked over the snapshot he’d captured using the scrying orb a while ago.

“In all truth Mister Wainwright, whoever made this machine is far beyond my level of expertise,” the instructor said. “The metallurgy isn’t groundbreaking, the script language covering it isn’t ridiculously refined and yet… something about its overall construction simply baffles me. It’s as though an incredibly talented builder intentionally held themselves back and sabotaged this construct. Where did you say you found it?”

“Under a mountain,” Orodan said. “That’s not particularly relevant though. Do you know of any ways to repair it? Or perhaps build it to its full potential?”

“That… would be beyond my ability to handle,” the instructor said. “You’d have to coordinate multiple headmasters and a research team to have any hope of understanding this task.”

“That aside, what would I need if I wanted to make it functional? From an artificing perspective that is,” Orodan asked.

“Well, the power core looks intentionally sabotaged,” the man said. “Yet I suspect it could contain far more power if a few corrections were made to the design. Without a doubt the core’s the part which bears the most obvious signs of intentional misconstruction. Though, the frame would need to be made of material sturdy enough to withstand this hypothetical increased power. Frankly… I’ve never seen an energy core of such size, if it were unleashed… it might destroy multiple towns!”

“Or an entire county,” Orodan said. “I digress. Thank you for your expertise. I suppose for now all I can do is hone my crafts.”

The instructor accepted this easily enough, and class proceeded as normal, with Orodan attempting to synergize his various crafting skills in order to make items of a similar nature to the ancient machine yet on a smaller scale.

The energy core itself was carved out of a massive crystal, and Orodan knew that the Jewelcrafting skill he’d learned long ago would be something necessary to re-create it. The metallic frame, Blacksmithing, and the runes and glyphs upon it… Enchanting and other various languages. Of course, he’d need to pick up Engineering to make it all work together as well. And who knew if any Magical Rituals were involved in the preparations process for some of the parts.

All in all, the ancient machine would take time, and many loops to successfully re-create to the standard that the Custodian had in the last long loop. In a sense, it would be a benchmark of his, to see how far he’d come.

Class went on and eventually ended, with Orodan having learned much and making a mental note to replace his Ancient History class with one in Engineering.

It was still early morning. Being a part-time student meant that he had most of the day left. He walked out, puzzle books hovering in front of him, ready to depart Bluefire for the day when he saw a bunch of idiots making their way towards him.

Likely the fallout from the mess he’d caused during Blacksmithing.

“You. Your name is Orodan Wainwright, yes?” a large fourth-year student asked, doing his best to sound intimidating. The man was in fact slightly bigger than even Orodan, which was noteworthy. He felt like he’d seen him somewhere. “My little brother says you assaulted him and his friends during the first-year introductory Blacksmithing class.”

“They were playing schoolyard games, and I simply offered an actual spar from which they might learn,” Orodan said. Swatting weaklings didn’t do much for his abilities with the halberd, but in seeing their mistakes he’d developed his own form just a bit further. “I showed them where their form was lacking, and we amicably parted ways.”

“You broke his nose, and he needed healing!” the man angrily said. “I don’t know who you are, but no crafting student walks around with a sword, shield and halberd. And none of them are as big as you, though I’m still bigger. Bet there’s a reason you aren’t in the martial program though. Not enough talent? Too weak to face down a real warrior?”

“You? A warrior? All I see is a pigeon puffing out his chest to appear threatening,” Orodan said, causing the man to redden. “You know what? Go ahead and show me how a real warrior is supposed to fight.”

“Just what I wanted to hear. No nonsense, no excuses. I can respect that at least,” the man said as he drew a mace and great shield. “I’m Claridin Rockwood, and I don’t know who your backer is, but you’re about to learn the difference between those who have talent and those who don’t.”

“And which of those categories are you in?” Orodan asked derisively, casually bringing his halberd out. His opponent seemed angry at the snide remark. Claridin Rockwood; Orodan now remembered that he’d bullied the boy rather easily during the very first Bluefire loop long ago.

Frankly, this wasn’t a fight and Orodan wouldn’t debase himself so much as to think it one. Claridin was talented by the standards of a Bluefire Academy student. The boy was an Elite who could jump a tier to fight Masters. Not bad… by the standards of a student.

The boy was perhaps a fifth as strong as the Novarrian Duke Arestos.

But even if Orodan lowered his speed and strength to match, the outcome was a foregone conclusion.

Though, what he could gain, were refinements to his own style and technique by watching this arrogant fool.

“You can hit me first, go ahead, free shot!” Claridin arrogantly declared.

Orodan’s knowledge of magical items was now advanced enough that he could tell the amulet around the boy’s neck provided a magical shield. Most importantly though, around Claridin, the symbols and glyphs of the System were vaguely visible. Particularly around the shield and armor.

It was something he’d begun noticing recently, since his meeting with Alovardo Balmento where he’d learned to detect and see System energy and the symbols and glyphs of its language. He now knew what that madman saw around everyone. Particularly when they used skills.

Claridin was doubtlessly a mace and great shield fighter, though one might not know that the boy’s Heavy Armor Mastery was decent as well. In fact, it was higher than either his shield or mace skills, given how much more of the System’s glyphs and symbols flitted about it.

“I might kill you by mistake if I went first and hit too hard,” Orodan said. “How about you go first? Or does a real warrior not know how to attack?”

Claridin predictably rose to the challenge, though the boy seemed at least a bit wary. Nobody was overconfident without reason, and nobody got to Claridin’s level of strength by being a completely ignorant and prideful fool. Orodan mainly wanted to see how the System’s glyphs and symbols moved about in the midst of combat, particularly during the activation of skills.

A roaring overhead blow came in, and it was casually swept aside. Claridin tried closing in using the blow’s momentum and attempted to smash into Orodan’s guard with a shield bash.

In response, his halberd dextrously came in underneath, the half hooked behind the shield, and both shield and opponent were thrown to the ground with no more than Claridin’s own momentum.

Very little System energy flitted about the boy’s arms and legs. Unarmed combat it seemed, wasn’t a specialty.

“If you’re going to close in with your shield you need to be wary of enemies who have decent grappling capabilities,” Orodan lectured. “Either learn how to hold your own in a grapple or be wary of fighting up close.”

“Shut up! Who are you really?” Claridin asked, the wariness in his eyes becoming more pronounced. Suddenly, the formerly aggressive boy wasn’t quite as willing to move forward with an attack.

Which suited Orodan just fine as he stepped forward, delivered a few probing thrusts which intentionally hit the great shield, and then casually backed away as the return strike came his way. The boy’s weapon glowed with power, borrowed from Orodan’s own strikes. Which meant he was a fighter used to receiving hits and returning them. A very watered-down version of Warrior’s Reciprocity.

“But what will you do if no attack is strong enough to meaningfully contribute to that skill of yours?” Orodan asked. “You’re not a turtle attempting to stalwartly defend a fixed position. Your mobility isn’t bad, which is commendable. But a thousand weak cuts can still overwhelm you.”

And so began a lesson in how one’s combat style could be detrimental if it was one-dimensional. Claridin was a defensive fighter. The boy was strong enough for his tier and age and could likely deliver a good blow, but the presence of his armor, great shield and amulet had made him complacent in his overly defensive style.

Orodan moved about poking holes in the boy’s defense with his halberd, simply stepping out of range whenever a return attack came. And even when an attack did connect, even at the level of power he limited himself to, Orodan’s own blows hadn’t been overwhelming enough to grant Claridin any power to borrow from.

The outcome was apparent as Claridin was brutally dismantled over the course of a minute. The boy’s overly defensive style just couldn’t keep up with Orodan’s deftness and dexterity. It was like executing a slow turtle that continually tried shelling up and lashing out in retribution. The fight ended with Orodan’s boot on his back pinning him to the ground.

“Passable fundamentals, but your style is overly defensive. How can you expect to adapt to a changing battlefield? What if the enemy is aware of your little trick?” Orodan asked. “As it stands, you need to work on your dexterity and deftness. The ability to move about swiftly is there but needs to be incorporated into your style.”

The entire time, the books hovering in front of his face had never left. His reading had never stopped.

A short distance away, the sound of clapping could be heard.

“Bravo Mister Wainwright, bravo. Your first day in Bluefire and you already go about besting the academy’s best martial student and third strongest overall. Such an educational performance too!” the boy said. “Might I call you Orodan?”

“No.”

The boy seemed somewhat taken aback by the response but recovered swiftly enough.

“Mister Wainwright it is. I don’t believe we’ve been acquainted as of yet. Elucian Arslan, at your service.”

Elucian Arslan. A boy who played at being a man through the usage of wiles, schemes and politics. He vaguely recalled the boy from his first Bluefire loop but cared as little for him then as he did now.

“I don’t require any service, so I’ll pass. What do you want?” Orodan curtly asked.

“Your acquaintance, and perhaps a friendship that might serve the both of us well,” Elucian said. “I’ve been looking into you ever since word reached me that House Simarji had sponsored someone for Bluefire in the middle of the academic year. A militia man from Ogdenborough? I do not think your background is an honest one, Mister Wainwright. What sort of militia man can display the skill you have?”

“One who has better things to do besides play politics and attempt wily schemes to kill people in tournaments,” Orodan said, recalling how the slime had tried to approach him to get Vespidia killed.

Elucian’s eyes narrowed. Ah, was that meant to be private knowledge? Such a shame.

“You know more than you should, Mister Wainwright. A valuable trait to have in the battleground of politics.”

“A battleground? Is that what you call it?” Orodan asked, derision evident in his tone. “Have you ever been in a real battle? Killed someone with the blade on your hip?”

“The descriptor was meant to be metaphorical.”

“And yet, you meant it to portray yourself as some warrior in a battlefield. Is that how you see this game?” Orodan asked. “Surrounded by cronies, attempting backstabbing plots and schemes… is that where you think power lies?”

“Power can be found in many things. Strategies, plans and alliances are just different expressions of it,” Elucian said. “Do nations not form alliances to their own benefit? Are the Republic and Eastern Kingdoms not allied for mutual aid against the Empire?”

“Alliances are another expression of power, but in the end, all power comes down to the smallest unit, which is the individual,” Orodan replied. “What use are your alliances and schemes if you’re too weak to do anything yourself? A single assassin and your pyramid comes crashing down from the top. A single mighty being and your network erodes from the bottom as your underlings are scattered or killed.”

And a single Eldritch Avatar, and the world would pay the price. What tricks or schemes could truly defeat it? Novarria had tried and gotten rather close, Orodan would admit. But even then, it had ended in an overall loss even if he’d managed to defeat it at the end.

The Administrators? The Eldritch corruption which was encroaching upon all of System space? The sadistic Boundless One which sought to destroy the System and all its inhabitants from the outside? What schemes could truly best it?

Well… Orodan supposed he was being a bit unfair, and his views were slightly colored by his natural disposition. The time loop mechanism was in fact a scheme, and it had worked. In order to purify the System, the Eldritch Boundless One had anointed Orodan Wainwright to the time loops. And for the sake of saving all within System space and returning himself to the time loops, Orodan had taken over the mechanism and empowered it himself.

Though, in both cases, no matter what the scheme was, it all depended on Orodan.

Even the best laid schemes still needed true power to execute them.

“I believe you’re being unfair and presenting my outlook in an unfavorable light, Mister Wainwright.”

“Perhaps I am. Schemes have their place, but they still require the individual enacting them to have power. Not the ringleader like you who simply directs things from the shadows, but the one on the ground carrying it out. The individual,” Orodan said. “And you, Elucian Arslan… focus overly much on the scheme. You’d be better served picking up the dagger yourself and doing the dirty work you command others to try and do for you. Better to hone yourself than play these silly little games.”

With that, Orodan walked away, uncaring of what the boy had to say.

He had no interest in speaking to Elucian Arslan, his cronies or the rest of the children playing games at Bluefire. The disadvantaged orphan within him bristled at how these nobles took such an opportunity for granted, and the cosmos-traveling warrior he had become felt that they focused more on the plan than the individual responsible for bringing it to fruition.

Orodan had a plan of his own. And for him, honing himself to become capable of executing it was his only priority.

#

The currents of time sputtered, and his control over them was rather tenuous. Yet, with iron will and the determination forged over the time loops, Orodan pressed on.

He would need much practice and foundation-building before he could replicate some of the larger scale feats. But before him, he’d at least succeeded on the smaller scale.

“Incredible… you reverted it back to its prime…!” Count Rohanus Simarji exclaimed, the awe evident in his face.

Around them, various foresters and herbalists also looked on in awe, though the Count bade them to get back to work and give the two of them some privacy.

“Compared to what I’m normally capable of, this is somewhat pitiful,” Orodan said.

“You’ve reverted this ancient tree by five hundred years and claim you can still do more?!” the Count asked, bewildered.

Quite so, considering he’d reversed the river of time by more than five-hundred-thousand years to give Zaessythra her physical body back. In comparison, utilizing chronomancy to de-age a tree by a mere hundred years was rather pitiful.

It wasn’t that Orodan couldn’t do more either. It was just that there were no older trees in the House Simarji preserves in Velestok. The preserves in Jerestir might have older ones. Frankly, he estimated his current limit of reversal to be at perhaps fifty-thousand years.

He had more than enough power, but without the System’s crutch, his current control was shaky. Pitiful, but at least he was shoring up his foundations and the improvements were coming fast.

“I’m still working on bringing my chronomancy up to what it used to be,” Orodan said. “To that end, I’m grateful to your house for harboring me and providing the opportunity to train and study.”

“I won’t claim to understand how someone can lose the ability to perform chronomancy, but that’s between you and the ancestor,” the Count said. “And if anything, we should be grateful to you. Even the ancestor is wary of some of the creatures in the deep parts of the forest. Your accompaniment on our forays within has proven most lucrative. Frankly, we’ll need another vault for all the gold we’ll be acquiring from the sales of some of these materials and rare resources. Are you certain we can’t give you a portion of the profits?”

“What would I do with gold? If I need something I’ll simply ask if House Simarji could procure it, and if not… then I’ll make my own arrangements,” Orodan replied.

After his day at Bluefire, he’d returned to Velestok and assisted the retainers of House Simarji during one of their many forays into the Aenechean Forest. It was a deep forest, and in the deepest parts there were not only Master-level monsters, but also some ancient Grandmaster-level existences. Even Adeltaj would’ve been rightfully wary.

Orodan though, simply swatted everything away and the expedition went deeper than any other recorded foray into those dark woods. They’d brought back multiple spatial rings full of rare and coveted wood, herbs, exotic animal hides and bones, and ingredients only seen in books which nobody in the Republic officially had in their inventory.

Needless to say, House Simarji’s wealth was going to skyrocket, and it was trivial work for Orodan who’d never stopped reading his books while leisurely strolling about and occasionally practicing his spatiomancy, chronomancy or cleaning.

“I would hope anything you needed, we could provide,” Count Rohanus said. “Though, with the level of power you operate on… something you desire might remain out of House Simarji’s reach.”

“Well, for the moment I’m not seeking any world-shattering artifacts or nation-crippling treasures. And if I was, I wouldn’t be asking anyone else to purchase them for me,” Orodan said, and he then looked around taking in the peaceful atmosphere of the preserve. “Frankly, the peace and serenity of this place is nice. It helps clear the mind and allows one to focus. A far cry from the lumberyard.”

They were in the House Simarji preserves within Velestok. Not the lumberyard itself, but perhaps a mile out from it where the older trees were guarded and maintained. Here, the production and packaging of various plant-based products - magical and otherwise - took place.

“Indeed,” called out a familiar voice. “There is a reason why my training grove is nearby.”

“Old man,” Orodan said, greeting Adeltaj. “Took a break from your training?”

“After that thrashing you gave me, I’ve learned a few new tricks,” Adeltaj said. “I’ll be challenging you once again in the coming days. I sense a breakthrough is imminent.”

“Good. I welcome it,” Orodan replied. “In any case, I didn’t realize you also handled the production of such products here. I’ve never been to this little workshop before.”

“Of course you didn’t,” Adeltaj said. “The real wealth of our house comes from the work done here. Alchemical reagents, cleaning products, materials for the crafting and maintenance of weapons. We make them all here.”

“Hmm… I suppose having a forestry preserve and attached workshop for the production of related goods can be quite profitable,” Orodan remarked. “Did you need me for anything?”

“Just to check in on how my beneficiary finds Bluefire Academy,” Adeltaj said.

“Full of idiots who know not the opportunity they squander,” Orodan said. “A treasure trove of knowledge and skills to learn otherwise.”

Adeltaj simply smiled and shook his head.

“Not everyone has had your upbringing, Orodan. Can you expect a child born to happy and loving parents to enjoy the thought of fighting and killing? To them, Bluefire Academy is but the next step in their journey to growing. Schemes, bullying and jockeying for social status are merely them carrying over what they’ve known from their earlier childhood into this new environment.”

“You heard of my encounters then?” Orodan asked. “I have no further time to waste with fools. I have goals which must be accomplished. Though, I’m surprised you’re not giving me a lecture over it.”

“I never said I disagreed,” Adeltaj said with a smile. “Though, I would prefer you didn’t go beating up the heir to House Rockwood. As it stands, the council has heard and have grown an interest in you. I can only shield you so much until they decide to pop by for a meeting.”

And by ‘meeting’, what the old man meant was an attempt at bullying and intimidation into revealing his secrets and aligning himself with the power of the Republic. Laughable. He’d simply thrash every Avatar and Grandmaster who tried. But it would interfere with his current learning.

“I’ve never been good at subtlety or hiding my presence. Novarria is also looking, and I have no doubt that the Republic will come too,” Orodan remarked. “I’ll handle that when the time comes. Bluefire, while good, is the youngest of the academies, and the expertise within its walls not as refined. A change of location might be called for.”

“Novarria then?” Adeltaj suggested.

“Been there before too. Not bad, but there’s someplace I feel would have better access to the magical languages I’m studying.”

“Fair enough. Just know that we’ll happily harbor you here for as long as you wish, or until the other houses of the Republic come knocking on my door at least,” Adeltaj said. “Which, coincidentally, is why I’m also here. Some diviners from the Cathedral want to speak to you.”

“Hmm… let me guess, their inability to get a read on my soul has them concerned?” Orodan asked.

“Right. They’re concerned you might be under demonic possession.”

A valid concern, though the actual signs of demonic possession were different. He’d seen it once when Devil King Saathmaraz had possessed the Puppet Sovereign during the civil war of the cultivators. But that was a rather high-level possession between two Transcendents.

Orodan got to his feet and followed Adeltaj to where they were.

And he saw someone he hadn’t in a long time.

“My lady… that’s him,” a younger diviner said.

“I see. Are you Mister Orodan Wainwright?” the woman asked. “Might we have a word with you, young man? We’re with the Cathedral of the Prime Five and there’ve been some concerns as to otherworldly influences.”

She looked much how he remembered. Decent enough, for he preferred older women, but he now had to wonder why he’d ever gone along with it. It must’ve been the social skill, though he had been aware of it and still pursued her.

“By all means, go ahead and run your scans,” Orodan said. “You must be Katareya Eldragon.”

“You know of me?”

“I hear you’re a talented diviner,” Orodan said. “In any case, go ahead. I have prior commitments and a job I need to get to.”

She nodded to the soul specialists with her, and their eyes flashed as they attempted to get a read on him.

Seconds passed, which then turned to half a minute.

“My lady… we can get no reading from him at all…”

“I see it too,” Katareya muttered as her eyes glowed. “Mister Wainwright, do you have a Blessing which obscures the soul? Might you lower it please?”

“I have no Blessing upon me, nor am I intentionally obscuring my soul.”

“Then… just what are you hiding?”

“Nothing. In fact, what you’re seeing is quite literally nothing,” Orodan said. Which was true, as the complete lack of a System meant their scans were unable to pick anything up regarding his soul at all. He wasn’t even part of the tapestry of fate any longer either. “Will that be all?”

“Now hold on… we don’t have our answers yet, you’re not free to leave,” Katareya said.

“Bold of you lot to make such a statement while standing upon the lands of House Simarji,” Adeltaj said. “Since when does the Cathedral and its priests have any powers of arrest and detainment?”

“This is a complicated matter. We can get no read on his soul at all,” Katareya said. “A Blessing would still give some feedback. We can detect nothing.”

“Perhaps I’m an inanimate object then? Do you act so concerned when you detect nothing from a rock as well?” Orodan posed, causing the woman to frown. “Either way, I’m not obligated to reveal my soul to anyone, not that I’m blocking any scans to begin with. I have a prior commitment to keep and you risk making me late.”

“Mister Wainwright, you are aware that the Cathedral’s agents can detain and question you for matters of divine authority, yes?” Katareya asked.

“What divine authority? No war-priests of Agathor, no druids of Halor. All I see are the lackeys of a meddling Goddess of Fate,” Orodan said. “I’ll be going now.”

“I don’t know what you are, but I do not think you’re the militia man from Ogdenborough that the records speak of,” Katareya said. “And no matter how you might act, you’re not stronger than the Cathedral’s arrayed forces. Man should respect the Gods.”

The only respect some Gods deserved was the mercy of a blade.

“Then next time, feel free to bring these arrayed forces around,” Orodan challenged.

“You’re violent.”

“And you’re toothless. Making threats to call your superiors isn’t as impressive as you think it is.”

The young, dumb and excitable seventeen-year-old Orodan was a fool. Just what had he seen in this woman?

In any case, the members of the Cathedral here weren’t looking to pick a fight, nor was Orodan interested in swatting a few weak diviners who were primarily non-combatants.

He walked past them and as he did, Adeltaj called out.

“I wasn’t aware you had someplace else to work.”

“Right, I forgot to say,” Orodan called out. “Just some manual labor.”

And what was said manual labor?

Well, he’d heard from Alovardo that understanding the language of the System would take mental organization.

And to that end…

…a warehouse seemed like a good gig.

#

“By the Five… why couldn’t ya’ have come here earlier? You’re worth a hundred of these lazy louts!”

“I had some studying to do, and a trip to the forest,” Orodan said as he arranged the lumber in a neat manner.

“The Aenechean Forest?” she asked, and Orodan nodded. “Dangerous place that. Those Simarjis payin’ you well for your services? Hannegan heard you went over there to work for them.”

“In a manner of speaking. Though, gold’s not what I’m after,” he replied while beginning work on the next stack and its unloading. “This work with logistics and organization is quite valuable to me. I’m getting something similar out of helping House Simarji.”

“Everyone’s after gold! Or a life-changing skill,” Bodil Bistrid said. “At least, that’s what old Hannegan always said when we used to work with that carpenter.”

Orodan was in Scarmorrow.

Specifically, within the Scarmorrow General Warehouse which was part of the Republic’s Department of Infrastructure. This building contained a generous store of construction materials, tools and equipment all for the purpose of building, maintaining and expanding upon any public constructions.

The warehouse was quite large, and only a third of the total material within actually belonged to the Republic itself. The other two-thirds were how the Department made money. Warehouse space was rented to private contractors, noble houses and other parties and the warehouse reserved space and stored their materials too.

It was quite the large building, and enchanted with some minor spatiomancy wards to help maximize storage space within. All in all, there was a lot of material stored, which meant the warehouse needed a lot of workers. There was always something to store or withdraw from storage and a lot of lifting involved.

But also…

…a lot of organization.

A beginner manual on logistics and warehouse storage floated in front of his face as he casually threw materials to and from pallets and storage shelves.

“That old man… how’s he been anyways? Haven’t seen him in a few days,” Orodan said.

“Good. Old coot’s got the foreman position for another project. They’re working to clear up debris underneath Mount Castarian,” Bodil Bistrid said. “Not sure why they’d need to do that under the mountain, but things have been weird ‘round that town of yours since that big fight involving the northmen and Imperials.”

Ah, of course the Republic would want to try and reclaim control of the ancient machine. In any case, the machine wouldn’t be coming alive any time soon. Definitely not in this loop after Orodan had de-powered it.

Orodan continued lifting things and throwing them around. He had asked for no pay, instead all he wanted was for Bodil to teach him logistics and organization. Something which was paying dividends as his mind was comprehending new ways of understanding the symbols and glyphs of the System and even Enchanting script.

“Who would’ve thought that there were so many ways to conceive of depth…” Orodan muttered as he continued reading. Bodil stood behind him, looking at the book as he also read.

“Aye, there’s more to storage than just stuffing things in an organized manner. You’ve got to consider the fragility of the materials, their malleability, sometimes you want things to be somewhat compressed in storage, and other times, not so much.”

Was that the trick then? Perhaps Orodan had been going about Enchanting the wrong way by merely looking at it two-dimensionally.

This was some excellent training.

He continued working, and she’d often answer any questions he had. Orodan had to admit, she was a good teacher, and he subconsciously found himself adding her to the list of people who he owed a debt to.

She was also a rough, no-nonsense woman. But she was oddly enough, a pacifist.

“Why don’t you like fighting?” Orodan asked.

“Oi… I thought you were supposed to ask questions about Logistics, not me,” Bodil said, eyes narrowed.

“You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to. I’m just curious,” Orodan said. “You don’t like your sister for the line of work she went into, and your dislike for the soldierly types is rather apparent.”

“Feh… you lot enjoy breaking stuff and hurting people more than you like building things,” she said. “Although, I reckon you might be the exception to that.”

“There’s more like me. Not every warrior is barbarian obsessed with naught but violence,” Orodan explained. “Why pacifism though? Earlier, that crooked guard came by and tried fleecing you for a bit of gold. You just stood there and protested it, filed a report, gathered evidence and planned. I have no doubts that you’ll ruin his day and career, but why abhor violence yourself?”

“And if we all start throwing rocks or fists when hearin’ something we don’t like, then what good are we? Might as well muck about in the dirt like slimes,” Bodil said. “I know that look… you think I’m one of those idealistic sops with more airy dreams in my head than sense.”

“Well, I was for a moment, but you seem self-aware enough and have a good head on your shoulders,” Orodan praised.

“You think I don’t know that my dislike for that sorta rough nonsense is stupid? That I need to rely on the guards or the Burgher’s men to protect me?” Bodil asked. “Well, I do. Doesn’t mean I’m not allowed to have silly dreams though.”

Orodan laughed. It was a carefree thing and surprised even him.

Dreams.

“Silly dreams huh?” Orodan asked. “Everyone’s allowed to have those. I for one hope you hold onto that one.”

The world was made just a little bit brighter for the existence of ‘silly’ dreams like that.

Orodan too had a silly dream.

One in which he was the pillar upon which such dreams could become reality.

That conversation put him in a good mood, and for the rest of the workday he powered through and ended the shift feeling as though his comprehensions in the way of mental organization had dramatically jumped. With each item stocked, he related it back to the children’s puzzles he did. With each parcel removed and sorted he referenced it to the patterns he saw and struggled with when it came to the Imperial enchanting language.

And finally, Bodil herself had to kick him out as he was staying well past his shift.

Outside the warehouse he saw the sight of a little girl with a bandage on her knee running around like a hyperactive gremlin.

He knew the girl well; she’d been his student once. Though, now wasn’t the time to reminisce about such things nor introduce himself.

What did matter though, was that she’d recovered from her foolhardy trip into a monster-infested site. She’d adapted, grown stronger and evolved despite the hardship.

And if his student could grow in such a way.

Then as her once-teacher, so could he.

#

“This is… improbable… hold please, I must fetch the headmaster.”

“No need. I believe I’ve learned all there is to learn from here.”

It had been a month.

A month of part-time classes at Bluefire Academy, working at the warehouse, sparring with Adeltaj to refine his usage of the halberd and occasionally having the old man’s friend, Kuonthus join in and honing his natural style with the sword and shield.

He had gained genuine insights into everything he’d worked on, further reinforcing the idea that losing access to the System was the best thing to have ever happened to him. He’d gained not skill levels, but genuine skill.

Blacksmithing had advanced by leaps and bounds due to the fact that Orodan was allowed to fail over and over with no gain. It truly forced him to confront the wall and innovate to break it down. Even the class prodigy looked at him oddly as certain aspects of Orodan’s works were superior to the boy’s.

Engineering, a class he’d taken by dropping Ancient History, was quite fun. It involved the study of various contraptions, weaponry and technology used in everyday life. Orodan had learned how to assemble basic siege weaponry, crossbows and even… the basics of how to make a cart. He hoped to eventually hone that into becoming a real wainwright. The class wasn’t his primary focus, but he felt he’d learned a decent amount of the basics. Even if there was always more to learn.

Jewelcrafting, he’d worked on by himself using House Simarji’s resources and workshops. And although progress was quite slow, he’d made steady gains in his understanding of how to refine jewels and prepare them most efficiently for the holding of gargantuan amounts of energy. He still had a long way to go in that regard but was one step closer to being capable of rebuilding the core of the ancient machine correctly.

Artificing was another fun class, and who knew Orodan enjoyed working with and learning the internal workings of firearms? He would never use one but building them was more entertaining than he’d thought it would be. In any case, it was a multidisciplinary art, and Orodan felt himself more knowledgeable in how to potentially put his various crafting skills to use in assembling something. He was a long way from rebuilding the ancient machine, but every little step counted.

And finally, Enchanting.

Where he’d just created a functional three-dimensional enchantment upon a sword, something the instructor was staring at with wide eyes.

He’d seen three-dimensional etchings on dwarven runic enchantments. And while previously he hadn’t really understood it, both the devil script language and the language of the System were also three-dimensional in their glyphs and symbols.

But to replicate the same with the enchanting language of the Imperial tradition…

…was a little out of the ordinary.

“Please Mister Wainwright! I’m begging you! You don’t understand how momentous this is! The school of enchanting, no, the Republic, will offer you whatever fortunes you want if it means you stay!” the instructor pleaded with wide eyes. “Nobody, and I mean nobody has ever been able to replicate the feat of three-dimensional enchanting within human civilization. The dwarves and their runic enchanted weaponry are coveted and fought over for a reason. And now… to think such a thing can be done with our own cruder enchanting script… the possibilities…”

It wasn’t that Orodan was an amazing enchanter. In fact, the actual enchantment he’d etched onto the sword was somewhat basic, producing merely a flame. Yet, it was two tiers higher than an enchantment of that level and material could take. The method he’d uncovered was a complete breakthrough for human enchanters upon Inuan.

“Unfortunately, I have other commitments,” Orodan said. “I’ve had eyes watching me for a month now, content to sit and wait, or perhaps just observe. Yet with this accolade they’ll doubtlessly be compelled to move. Thank you for your tutelage so far, but I’m afraid my time at Bluefire is at an end.”

“No! Wait… please!”

Orodan ignored the man and walked out of the classroom. His understanding of the Imperial enchanting script had grown dramatically. All the time and effort he’d put into children’s puzzles, the logistics and organization at the warehouse and various other puzzle books had finally borne fruit. Near the end, he’d even taken up reading tomes on mind magic exercises and visualizations and it’d all contributed to what he’d achieved.

He wasn’t a fantastic enchanter by any means… but his understanding of the very language that most human enchanting was based upon, was decent. It was akin to having average handwriting but being a masterful author. Many other enchanters could execute an enchantment more skilfully than he, but none that he’d seen at Bluefire had a greater comprehension of the actual language than he did.

Outside, just as he was on the path to leaving the academy grounds, he ran into a familiar friend.

“Mahari.”

“Orodan! Isn’t it still class time for you? Where are you off to?”

“Away from Bluefire and the Republic I’m afraid,” Orodan answered. “My goals call me elsewhere.”

“I see… this is goodbye then?” Mahari asked, a sad look on her face.

“For now. But I’m sure we’ll see one another again,” Orodan said, ruffling her hair. “And remember not to neglect those fists of yours.”

“Hmm… fine. You look after yourself, okay?” she said. “And next time, I’ll be sure to get all your dastardly secrets out of you!”

“Heh, you know what? Sure. Next time I’ll tell you all of my secrets, though you might not believe me,” Orodan said. He would’ve happily blabbed about the time loops here and now if not for the fact that she might get interrogated. Adeltaj at least was a Grandmaster who couldn’t be whisked away so easily. Mahari wasn’t as protected. “Now then, you may want to move aside as I get out of here. Lot of Grandmasters coming this way.”

Fighting would have been easy, but this wasn’t the battleground for it, and they were merely the headmasters of various schools at Bluefire who desperately wanted him to stay. Not outright hostile, and he’d have felt bad for beating them up.

With a brief flash of power and the sudden shrill ring of alarm, the anti-spatiomancy wards over all of Karilsgard broke, and Orodan stepped out with a teleport.

#

“There’s an army waiting for you on the surface…”

“I have broken armies before.”

“They have Avatars!”

“I have slain Gods.”

“Damn it Adeltaj… why does your friend not worry?!” Kuonthus Vexelthun exclaimed, stress apparent on the man’s face.

“Because he’s somewhat stronger than all of them,” Adeltaj said, his face at ease. “Anyhow, is the well secure, Orodan?”

“Aye. All monsters have been slain and the centipedes stand ready to defend the various side tunnels from encroachment alongside any soldiers of the Republic you send to work with them,” Orodan explained. “I’ll say it again, don’t go any deeper past the True Vampire’s chamber. I’ll be dealing with that later.”

They were in Jerestir. Specifically, in the mines of House Firesword. Beneath which were the tunnels leading to the energy well.

Unlike last time, Orodan had managed to successfully negotiate an agreement with the centipedes and also prevent the destruction of their tunnels. He’d slaughtered every other monster on the way down and had taken particular glee in dispatching the True Vampire who’d been responsible for Adeltaj’s death in a prior loop.

Of course, while he could have gone deeper and taken over the world core, that wasn’t a priority at the moment. He’d instead warned Adeltaj to avoid going any deeper.

“I can abide by that,” the old man said. “Though, the Grandmasters of the Republic might not.”

“Then they’ll die facing monsters of similar strength to those found in the abyssal depths,” Orodan stated. “Long as you and those you care for don’t pay the price; I’ll be satisfied.”

“Understood,” the old man said and then hesitated for a moment. “Are you truly prepared to deal with all those people above? Not only do the forces of the Republic gather for meeting with you, but the Novarrians are gathering in force across the border as well. The escalation of force has reached such a point that the patriarchs of each side’s dragon flights have also appeared.”

“It won’t be a problem,” Orodan said. “If anything, all the better for everyone to gather in one place that I might remind them to mind their own business.”

It was time.

Orodan leapt upwards, not bothering with the mine entrance, but instead barrelling through the ground and appearing at the equidistant halfway point between the two gathered forces.

He broke ground to see what Vision of Purity had confirmed.

On one side, the army of the Republic. Grandmasters, Avatars and multiple dragons from the Time Wind dragon flight including their patriarch Kultuanir. Hells, even some Eastern Kingdom forces were present alongside the Sapphire Gale dragon flight and their own patriarch.

And on the other side. Novarria.

Demosthenos Albathrax, Vespidia, the Avatars of Malzim and Eximus and the Novarrian affiliated Burning Ember dragon flight with their patriarch Eldramir.

“Orodan Wainwright-”

“Orodan Wainwrigh-”

“One at a time please,” Orodan interrupted as both Alcianne Rockwood and Demosthenos Albathrax attempted to speak concurrently. “Might I ask why this gathering of Grandmasters; Chosen and mighty dragons have come before me?”

Demosthenos spoke first.

“We have been looking for you. Our side suffered losses during the events beneath Mount Castarian, all from a rogue Grandmaster unaffiliated with the Republic. That and the disturbance in Arkwall a month ago can all be traced back to you,” the cursed reincarnator said. “Rare is the moment when the Republic and our Empire would come together, but we did. And the sharing of information led to us learning that you hadn’t bothered trying to flee or hide. By all reports, you’ve merely been studying at Bluefire for the past month. Why? I detect no signs of it, but are you a reincarnator perhaps? A transmigrator? You broke the anti-spatiomancy wards of Arkwall… are you perhaps a dragon in human form?”

“Neither.”

“We shall get the answers later. For now, the question of why you broke the Grandmaster non-interference pact remains. Two of our Masters lie dead at your hands,” Demosthenos accused.

“Your Masters were planning on destroying my hometown and all of Volarbury County,” Orodan declared, and he heard some vindictive murmurs from the Republican side who agreed with his assessment. “I’d make the same choice a hundred times over if I had to.”

“You speak as though you have strength. That isn’t a bad thing,” Demosthenos said. “Novarria has need of strength. We can let bygones be bygones if you add your strength to ours and come better mankind alongside us.”

“I’ve done that once. I’ll pass,” Orodan answered, causing Demosthenos’s face to scrunch up in confusion.

“Then why not remain with us, Orodan Wainwright? A warrior of such prowess would be better served with the nation in which he was raised.”

Orodan’s bloodlust spiked upon hearing the voice.

“Agathor.”

“Indeed. I may be the God of War, but I can recognize a true warrior when I see him. Join us, receive my favor and-”

You mistake me, Agathor. Your death will come at my hands soon enough,” Orodan declared.

“What heresy do you spout?”

“The kind of heresy borne from killing Gods and…” Orodan trailed off. “From being in a time loop.”

“A time loop? Eximus… do you detect any chronomancy?” Demosthenos asked.

“None… his words are backed by no evidence.”

“A third-rate God of Time like yourself would never understand the scale of the time loop I’m in,” Orodan said and spread his arms wide. “Now then, I believe I’ve held my tongue for the sake of my mentor long enough. Allow me to say this once so that we might put any questions to rest. I’m in a time loop. All of you gathered here today, I’ve met before. Some of you have tried killing me, some torturing me and some controlling me. Yet, there’ve also been those who helped me. So, thank you. To those who helped me. I shall not forget, and I always repay my debts. And to those who’ve wronged me…

“…thank you for all gathering in one place.”

The only thing remaining was the exacting of vengeance.

“He invades my mi-”

Agathor was the first to experience his wrath.

A single motion, and the God of War, all of his Blessings and the entirety of his influence was purged from not just Arvayne Firesword, but every single person upon the battlefield.

Given that the majority of the combatants here were Masters and Grandmasters, it was a severe blow to a God’s power and authority. Furthermore, Incorruptible Being meant that Agathor couldn’t Bless them again.

And as for the piece of Agathor’s consciousness within Arvayne Firesword?

Orodan crushed it not, but he threw it backwards into the divine dimension. The last thing that part of Agathor saw was Orodan’s deathly rage, and the final uttered promise that he would return to kill the War God permanently.

“Stop him n-”

“Mind mages! Count-”

Eximus and Ilyatana were similarly expelled utterly and completely from everyone present. Their Blessings, their influence, all gone and never allowed to re-infect these people.

“Now then, who wishes to approach first?”

“Eldramir, advance and we shall aid you,” Demosthenos ordered. “I suspect his close combat capabilities are truly lethal.”

The dragon flew towards Orodan, the weight of its massive body barrelling towards him…

…only for a shrill hiss of surprise to leave its lips as its momentum was brought to a sudden halt.

A hand wrapped around one of the Burning Ember patriarch’s toes, and suddenly, the battlefield was a tornado of scales as this gigantic dragon was being spun around in the air like an undergarment at a cheap brothel.

Another dragon tried flying in to intervene, but Orodan simply threw Eldramir right into that approaching dragon like a javelin, knocking them both out of the air and out of the fight as he heard some bones shatter.

“By the Five… he’s stronger than a dragon!”

“Don’t let him get close!”

Too late for that, Orodan thought. With a blur, he was in-between the Novarrian ranks already, and his fists began flying.

Even with his strength greatly held back, noses were pulped, bones shattered, and foes were sent flying and knocked unconscious. They’d live and heal though.

An assassin who thought herself invisible tried sneaking up on him, only for Vespidia to be caught by the foot and thrown far off into the horizon like a bird. Demosthenos tried cursing him, only to find out the hard way that his soul was far too strong. He too was slapped into the ground.

The Avatar of Malzim had already fled.

And the Avatar of Halor tried approaching him only to receive the purging treatment, though only with his Chosen, and with a gentler touch than any other Avatar had received. Consequently, Alcianne Rockwood was now free as well.

The Time Wind dragon flight had wisely backed away upon seeing his might, and they must’ve tacitly approved of the blow he struck against Ilyatana as well.

The average Grandmaster was like an ant before him, and they all quickly began breaking and gaining distance out of self-preservation. It helped that they could see he wasn’t killing anyone.

Less two seconds. That was how quickly Orodan had dispatched the enemy Avatars, bested the Novarrian leadership and manhandled their dragons.

The battlefield was shocked silent.

Though, Orodan wouldn’t leave until one more person appeared.

And the man did, as space fluctuated and a familiar old friend bearing an Eldritch crown stepped forth with a blast of purple-gray energy.

Energy which washed over Orodan like water.

“I don’t think that works on me any longer,” Orodan said.

“You… who are you and what do you want?” Balastion Novar asked.

“I am Orodan Wainwright, the time looper. And… you’re welcome.”

Balastion was a quadruple-Grandmaster, but the man wasn’t anywhere near quick enough to react to the sudden speed of Orodan as he appeared before him.

A downward palm rested atop the man’s head, and within an instant, the Eldritch crown became an inert and powerless one.

Balastion Novar stumbled backwards in fright and surprise.

“The crown! You… you destroyed it!”

“At your request. Even if you remember it not,” Orodan said and then turned to the rest of the remaining forces on both sides. “I shall be departing now. Let that be a reminder to leave me be. And… if anyone dares interrogate or harass House Simarji… they’ll find a reckoning coming for them.”

Novarria’s best, beaten down. The Republic’s Gods humiliated and expelled. The first emperor himself, powerless to stop it. Needless to say, none within the two nations were a match for Orodan.

Once upon a time, he’d fought Novarria many times. He’d also fought the Republic’s Gods as well. He’d strained, struggled, bled and died. Yet no more.

He had grown stronger.

And he now had better places to be.

He was now at a point where Bluefire would provide marginal gains. And the subjects he needed to learn weren’t even well known here.

It was time for a change of scenery.

It was time to pay the elves a visit.

Eldiron awaited.