Orodan didn’t have good experiences with noble houses.

Considering he spent thousands of loops killing their members and soldiers, he was rightfully wary and held a cautious attitude.

From a young age he’d been told to avoid nobles and their soldiers and had often been at the receiving end of beatings and subjugation at their hands.

And then the time loops started and his hatred for House Argon grew, and this began to at least partially color his view of noble houses in general.

But he felt this would be unfair to House Simarji, the owners of the lumber yard he currently found himself laboring in.

They were a smaller house that had come to prominence with the liberation war that formed the Republic. Their house originated from the eastern kingdoms and emigrated to the lands of the now-Republic. When the time for war came, they bravely contributed and earned themselves a designation as a noble house.

Of course, their main income was farming and forestry. Their house alone was responsible for a sizeable portion of the Republic’s food yield and lumber supply.

As employers, they seemed to be very fair and respected.

They still had Adept-level guards keeping watch over the lumber yard as any sensible business owner of means would, but the workers spoke well of Count Rohanus Simarji, the eldest son of the house and an Elite-level healer who was known for having savvy business sense and always treating his workers well.

The man’s magic was at least partially responsible for the abundant growth of the farms and forest preserves House Simarji owned.

For Orodan’s purposes, this meant that he was never bothered much during the course of his work. If anything, aside from the grim-faced supervising dwarf - Ogrik Dothrilrock was his name - the other workers were all rather happy and carefree as they seemed to genuinely enjoy their jobs.

There wasn’t even the fear and wariness of Adept-level people present in these workers like there was at the old warehouse at 4 Ale Road. If anything, the workers treated him with a subtle sense of respect but nothing too reverential, which was a great improvement over being treated like a walking weapon one needed to tread lightly around.

Most importantly, this meant that unlike the old worksite, the supervisor here didn’t worry about facing repercussions for a talent like Orodan working here or poaching him outright.

House Simarji was a noble house in their own right, and they were rumored to have a powerful individual in their house who preferred to stay out of the public eye.

Orodan still had the Adept-level guards approach him over the course of the loop; his Physical Fitness must have drawn some attention with how easily he threw trees around and carved through wood as though it was air. They approached him in quite the friendly manner and asked him who he was and what his interests and goals were.

Orodan saw no harm in answering honestly and he was certain someone in the overlooking tower was taking notes.

The training and practice for his Woodworking skill was fantastic at the lumber yard. He had all the material in the world to work with, and the carpenters in the woodworking area were all more than eager to help teach and give tips and advice to someone who worked hard and produced a veritable flood of material in record time. He also gained the Lumberjacking skill.

And in this loop, he hadn’t even used Wood Communion alongside Weapon Aura to produce some truly high quality wood.

Near the end of the loop, an hour before the announcement preceding the chaos at Eversong Plaza, Orodan spotted a figure calmly walking towards him.

The man looked positively ancient. With a wrinkled face of bronze skin, flowing white hair and a long beard. He stood as tall as a young man, but still used a long pole wrapped in cloth as a walking stick.

Orodan paused his work for a moment. He had exceeded the entire lumber yard’s quota for the next week altogether.

It wasn’t exactly unprecedented for the occasional wandering genius with ridiculous Physical Fitness to come by a work site and dabble in such things, but for one to stay as long as Orodan did and then have the relevant skills, was a bit much.

“Can I help you?” Orodan asked.

“Help me? No… but you can help yourself young man,” the old man spoke calmly but with a certain level of gravity in his voice. “I strongly recommend you leave the county tomorrow and make your way East. Something calamitous will occur soon.”

Now that truly made Orodan pause and take the man in seriously.

Just who was this old man? For him to know about the destruction that would ensue soon. Orodan decided to bite the bullet and test the waters. His third Blessing gave him a way out should things devolve.

“Then why is nobody trying to do something about it? That machine beneath Mount Castarian will awaken soon and the entire county will be turned into a red wasteland of chaotic mana!”

Now it was this old man’s turn to look at Orodan sharply.

“And just how does a young man like yourself know of these things? I initially sought to warn you given the rare talent you’ve shown for your age… but you know more than you should about the games being played under the mountain.” the old man said.

“Of course I do, I keep reliving this same day over and over! I’ve slowly begun to come to terms with it, but I still have no answers about the politics and why the hell the Republic and people like yourself know about it but are so content to send only a token force to Eversong Plaza at noon,” Orodan exclaimed. “Just what sort of game is being played here?!”

And the old man’s eyes actually opened a slight bit wider, and he held Orodan’s gaze for a few seconds before speaking.

And then he laughed.

And once he was done with his throaty chuckle, he spoke.

“Heh… just… amazing… time magic of such a scale cast on one so young and ignorant,” the old man almost crazily spoke in a mutter. “Tell me child, how many times have you died over the course of the spell you find yourself in?”

“Thousands? At least more than ten-thousand times by now… I lost count during some sets.”

“That many? No mortal on this world would have enough mana to keep such a spell going for that many times… and I haven’t heard any of the famed Master-level chronomancers raising a ruckus about time being convoluted or rewound…” the man muttered as much to himself as he did to Orodan. “Which Gods are you in contact with? It could only be something done by them… but even then… the Cathedral has said nothing is out of the ordinary…”

“I’m not in contact with any Gods… this time loop… even the Gods are unaware of it. When I told Ilyatana the last time she tried to ‘give’ me something that would make me serve her better in finding an answer for her… thankfully the God of Death saved me by granting me a Blessing that allowed me to take my own life easily.”

“Soul manipulation… filthy magic. You were fortunate to have avoided that. Still… this tale of yours sounds absolutely insane and almost fantastical in how nearly impossible it is,” the old man said with a raised eyebrow. But he didn’t outright reject it?

“Nearly impossible? So there still might be an explanation for what’s happening to me?” Orodan asked.

“Perhaps there is… come child, let us sit down and you can tell me the details about this time loop.”

***

They sat on the grass. A clearing between trees with oddly sharp and pointed looking tips, almost like spears.

“So even the Quest is reset once the loop restarts, even if you’ve completed it… have you tried completing it once again then?” the elderly man asked.

“No… after I realized there was no escape in sight, I’ve spent the loops since just honing my Woodworking and obtaining skills such as Weapon Aura and Wood Communion. I haven’t really bothered returning to the Plaza, although I certainly could go and drain the orb once more and complete the Quest that way,” Orodan explained.

“Hmm… not the worst idea; sometimes a warrior must meditate on things beyond just battle,” the aged man spoke. “Weapon Aura is a decent force multiplier and a must-have for any warrior who hopes to get anywhere. A shame that the curriculum for academies nowadays is so pathetic. Could you not have consulted some of your teachers to tell you more? That it took you thousands of loops before you discovered it is a bit shameful.”

Orodan grew slightly annoyed at this and barked back. “I’ve never been to an academy!”

“Truly? Who were you before this started then?”

“I was… I am, Orodan Wainwright. I’m a member of the Volarbury county militia in Ogdenborough, I’m a mere Private. I had no fancy academy; I had no mother or father to guide me. I grew up struggling on the streets of Ogdenborough and spent my years till I came of age in the Lady Sashwari Home for the Wayward… but despite all that I still got accepted into the County Militia at the age of sixteen.”

At this the old man, who had been looking at Orodan like one might look at an interesting child, now finally showed some change. His eyes softened a bit, and Orodan would daresay he saw an inkling of respect in his gaze.

“…that’s good. You’ve turned out well despite your unfortunate circumstances,” the old man quietly replied. “I don’t have a real answer for you about why you’re supposedly in a time loop that even the Gods are unaware of… but I will say that if anyone was meant to succeed in such a scenario, it would be one such as you. You are without a doubt… a true idiot.”

“…huh?!” Orodan protested, but the old man put a hand up to stop him.

“But you are also a true warrior. I… cannot even say that I would be willing to be torn apart thousands of times on end with no rest simply to make progress against an undead Demonic Berserker by attempting to fight it toe to toe at the Adept-level. Whichever divine power beyond the Gods is responsible for your plight… they chose well in picking a stubborn stone-headed idiot like you for this time loop.”

Orodan’s head grew hot with vexation. “Surely you didn’t say all this just to insult me old man?!”

“Putting the young in their place and reminding them of their shortcomings is one of the few ways I amuse myself at my age,” the old man quipped back, much to Orodan’s irritation. “And your attitude towards life is more than a bit… carefree.”

“How so?”

“How many people have you wantonly slaughtered throughout your time loops?” the old man asked. “Butchering hapless Apprentice-level guards over thousands of loops is a bit barbarous, don’t you think?”

“They were traitors, the enemy,” Orodan defended. “And besides, I never slew anyone who surrendered. Only those with a weapon in their hands or on their person.”

“You could’ve simply beat them senseless,” the old man remarked.

“I did beat a few senseless.”

“But not all,” the aged man said. “You still killed many, some of whom might not have even known they were working for a traitorous house or about what is to occur. If you’re going to be in a time loop, you should perhaps consider acting with a bit more restraint and mercy. It reflects poorly on you otherwise.”

“I still don’t see what the big deal is… they’re warriors, they implicitly accept the potential of death by choosing this path in life,” Orodan said.

“Not everyone who wields a weapon has a death wish like you do,” the elderly man replied. “That, alongside your derision towards mages merely pursuing self-preservation, is a bit narrow-minded. Tell me, the first time you killed someone in the time loops, did you not feel remorse afterwards?”

“I… have had to take a life even before the time loops,” Orodan said. “I won’t speak much of it, but the day-to-day struggle as a street rat wasn’t kind and the orphanage often didn’t have enough food. An older boy tried to forcibly take what I found first, and I had to defend myself.”

At that, the old man could only look at him pitifully.

“I am sorry you had to experience such a cruel upbringing,” the man said. “It has undoubtedly made you a good warrior, perhaps too good. Yet, it has robbed you of the restraint that comes with a gentler upbringing. I will not sit here and chastise you, but I do ask you try to have more mercy and consider that not everyone seeks a warrior’s death like you do.”

Orodan grumbled a bit but tried to absorb the lesson. He supposed that slaughtering Apprentice-level guards was a bit much. A real warrior sought stronger opponents anyways.

“Anyhow, has anyone explained Gods to you in an academic sense?”

“The only explanations about the Gods I received was from the Temple and the matrons growing up. The Gods are supreme and all-powerful, that’s all I was told,” Orodan explained.

“That is… not necessarily correct. The Cathedral will of course happily peddle whatever dogma serves them and their divine overlords… but the truth is a different matter,” he spoke. “Tell me boy… do you know what the System is?”

The System? Did the old man mean the messages he received from on up high whenever his skills increased?

“Isn’t that too under the domain of the Gods?” Orodan asked in return.

“No. The System is something that has existed and will continue to exist long after this current crop of Gods have turned to dust and new ones emerge,” he explained, and Orodan leaned in and paid rapt attention as his worldview was being turned upside down. Gods turning to dust? New Gods? This was practically heresy. “The priests of the Cathedral will fervently label any who say it a madman and a heretic, but it’s common knowledge among the Master-level and beyond that even the Gods themselves rose to their station through the System.”

“So other Gods existed before the Prime Five?” Orodan asked incredulously. His upbringing as a bumpkin didn’t allow him to ponder on such forbidden knowledge till now.

“Other continents exist, and Gods are worshiped there too. But besides foreign Gods, a long time ago… when I was just a young man like yourself, there were whispers of a God of War before Agathor. The whispers and hushed knowledge were already ancient even when I was a lad, and now as the hundreds of years since then have passed, those whispers have vanished entirely,” he explained. “I always thought these Gods might have died… something the Cathedral will deem impossible, as they swear up and down that Gods cannot be slain. But some of my old friends thought that at least some of these older Gods advanced to an even higher level. For this time loop you’re in to evade the notice of even the Prime Five… perhaps something beyond even them has chosen you for this.”

“So, you actually believe me then?” Orodan asked with some disbelief in his tone. “Usually, it takes a priest communing with their God to understand that something is wrong, and even then, the priest doesn’t believe me, they simply relay what their God says.”

“And that would be entirely normal and understandable for them. As becoming a priest of a divinity requires blind faith in dogma, obedience to their deity and levelling skills which make them more of a pliant puppet to their God’s will at higher levels. I must suggest you don’t train in faith-based skills if you wish to retain your independence of mind,” the elder explained, and Orodan agreed given the scare he received at Ilyatana’s hands.

“So why do you believe me then?”

“Because lad, I know what the initial wording of a Quest message says word for word. Not the fanciful fictional accounts, nor the lies of charlatans. After all, I fought alongside a man who received a Quest to slay a desert worm the size of an entire mountain range.”

And Orodan found himself sitting there, jaw agape at the words of this venerable elder, and the time-looper asked a question people normally asked him whenever he displayed impossible abilities.

“Just… just who are you?”

A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

“You haven’t yet earned the right to that until you’ve impressed me, now come, show me what thousands of deaths in a time loop can achieve,” the sagely elder spoke.

And the aura around the man suddenly turned very, very heavy. Neither the High-Burgher nor the Novarrian beneath the mountain had made Orodan feel this sort of… pressure.

Orodan steeled his nerves and drew his weapons.

***

It wasn’t a fight to the death.

But Orodan still felt like he was in one.

The elderly man refused to use more than one arm, and he refused to utilize the wrapped long pole he kept held behind his back. But even with just that… Orodan felt pressured in a way he never had before. Even Ovuru the Guzuharan Warchief, who was a Master-level warrior himself, hadn’t pressured Orodan this much.

He activated Death Rage and every possible supporting skill he could think of, and he was utterly overwhelmed and sent flying through dozens of trees with a single slap each time.

Weapon Aura and Wood Communion combined together to strengthen his shield so incredibly much that it would shatter if he poured any more mana into it. It could likely take the blow from a Master-level warrior now. And yet it too was smashed to smithereens with no regard.

“Come now… if you're in a time loop as you claim, has constant death made you complacent? I’m not going to kill you, but I do expect you to adapt to the pressure and come up with something,” the dastardly old man spoke with a calm smirk on his face. “We’ll have to break this bad habit of yours of using death as a crutch. Focus, and genuinely treat this as though it’s your last try and struggle with all you have.”

Easier said than done!

This monstrous old man’s expectations were simply too high!

“Do you know what talent is young one?” his opponent asked as he thrashed him hard enough to bypass all his resistances and break a rib. It would heal in time, but it was still a frankly colossal hit delivered with such casual ease.

“There are two kinds of talent,” the elder spoke as he delivered another chop with his left hand that sent Orodan into the ground and formed a crater. “The first, is the talent of hard work, this you already possess. The ability to grind and persevere no matter what. But it’s merely one part of the recipe for success.”

“The second kind of talent is that of a genius. The ability to grasp things almost immediately and instinctively,” he spoke as another series of thrashings were delivered unto Orodan’s now battered and bleeding body. “People will say this sort of talent is something one has to be born with, but that isn’t true. It requires the first talent, hard work, being applied to the extreme.”

Another series of horrendous beatings descended upon him.

“So what if you weren’t born with the innate talent to instantly comprehend things? So what if you aren’t a natural genius?” a chop brought his attempt to stand back to his knees and the old man stopped for a moment. “Stand up boy and receive my attacks. Concentrate till your face goes red and your eyes leak blood, focus till your brain explodes, cram as much thought, experimentation and ingenuity into every thousandth of a second till each second itself becomes equivalent to an hour of dedicated hard work! Adapt! Think of this as your last try for the next blow I’ll land will kill you!”

Orodan was crazed. Time loop? He had forgotten about such things in this moment.

Right now, time almost seemed to freeze as the impending blow came for his face, and in his last moments, he realized that death was a crutch, one that was holding him back.

He forgot who he was, and madly strained as though this was his last. He felt his very soul strain under the pressure of attempting to cram every bit of focus and thought into each thousandth of a second. It almost felt as though two of him were thinking using the same mind.

[New Skill (Rare) → Soul Manipulation 1]

This wasn’t the auto-piloted death grinding of the loops, but something altogether more strenuous and laborious.

He vied for each and every edge he could get against this upcoming attack, mentally he called forth all of the near bottomless mana within himself and poured it towards something, towards whatever would help him in the near instants before his death.

His entire being, the very soul that he felt strain as he crammed as much focus into thinking in these instants of time, his entire mana pool, it was all poured into this one thing. And the last ingredient poured in was all his emotions, all his experiences, all the hard work, the stubborn willpower he had adamantly held onto throughout the thousands of deaths.

His own fist rose, charged with all that was him. This strike contained all that was Orodan Wainwright.

But he still felt and knew that it wasn’t enough. And on the eve of death, he decided to apply whatever it was that allowed him to think as though there two of him using the same mind, to the physical world.

His right hand tore through the air towards the attack… and in an impossibility… another right hand occupied the exact same moment in space and time and also tore through space to meet the old man’s attack.

Two actions performed at the exact same moment in time, occupying the exact same space, almost as if there were two of him occupying the exact same position.

It was impossible, but the power of his attack multiplied by two.

And an unfurled halberd was forced to meet it as the old man had a mad grin on his face.

[New Skill (Legendary) → All-Strike 2]

The surrounding mile was turned to ash, and in the distance, half of Velestok was… gone. And the rest was turned to rubble.

As was Orodan’s own arm and half of his entire body and face.

The old man’s crazed grin never subsided as he spoke, and he looked unharmed by the attack that could have killed a Master-level combatant.

“Hahaha! Now this is talent! Don’t you ever allow death to make you complacent and forget this feeling of true hard work again!” the man exclaimed. “Assuming enough deaths will let you achieve something is a good way to miss out on the insights you could have if you simply strained with your all in the moment.”

“Orodan Wainwright… my name is Adeltaj Simarji… you might hear the name if you pick up a book on ancient history. And it took you long enough to figure out what the Reward from that Quest did!”

Orodan couldn’t speak in response, his body utterly ruined and his soul feeling a level of strain it hadn’t ever experienced.

But with this result… he could finally accept death and consider the loop a success.

“Now hurry up and use that third Blessing from Malzim you spoke of and find me in the next loop, your training is quite lacking, and we must erode many bad habits of yours… can’t even use this new skill without blowing up your own arm and body… tsk, tsk!”

As Orodan was poised to activate his third Blessing, he decided that he would not be immediately rushing to this crazy old man the second the next loop began.

Not till he figured out just what this new power of his was.

***

A keening wail ringing in the night sky awoke him.

Orodan awoke and customarily brushed away the Quest messages, and he immediately rushed out of his hovel, shield in hand.

The new legendary rarity skill wasn’t what he wanted to test.

The skill was nice, incredibly powerful even, but it was just another offensive skill. One that would undoubtedly give him the power to really threaten higher-level warriors now. But its power output was tied to how much mana he had stored via the Mana Black Hole skill. And he had expended the entirety of multiple loops worth of mana absorption from the destructive attack of the ancient war machine.

And the mana stored inside Mana Black Hole was essentially dry now and so he’d have to spend a few loops recharging to replicate the same effect again.

All-Strike was still incredibly powerful he could feel, but its implications weren’t anywhere near the Quest Reward whose function he had just discovered.

The Reward which was the +1 Permanent Action Increase.

A Shield Throw was poised to fly towards the harpies flying overhead in the distance, but Orodan recalled the feeling of what he’d done in the last loop against that crazy old man.

And as before, the familiar feeling of impossibility and an unnatural break in reality itself overtook him.

And two Shield Throws were sent, occupying the exact same moment in time and space, and even somehow conjuring an extra shield which Orodan knew was the exact same as the shield he normally used.

Four harpies didn’t even have the time to cry out in outrage as they were cut in two by the shields flying through them. And after a second, one of the shields flying into the horizon… abruptly disappeared.

“Incredible…” Orodan muttered to himself.

It was as though he had thrown two separate Shield Throws in the exact same moment in time and space. Yet he only used the energy of one!

This was mind-boggling and he would need to test out the implications of such a thing.

But if this was what he thought it was, even if the other ‘action’ stopped after a single second. It was more than enough time to do absurd things, like double his attack rate as each blow could be simultaneously thrown alongside another in the exact same moment in time.

It was as though reality bent to allow him to do one thing and another thing at the same instant of time!

“I have to test this!”

He exclaimed excitedly, but then remembered he had essentially lost his shield for the rest of the loop.

***

“What the hell… since when do you know magic Orodan?”

These were the words of Old Man Hannegan, who looked on with a disturbed expression on his face, as it appeared as though two of Orodan had appeared, occupying the same spot in space and time, and were simultaneously working on stripping down the log into useful construction wood.

He had tested the limits of the +1 Action Increase, and it seemed that while the effects lasted only one second… there was nothing stopping him from performing other actions consecutively. And the energy and stamina expended were the same as though he had done only a single action.

There were certain oddities such as if doing one action which was trivial and doing another such as All-Strike, the more energy intensive action’s cost would be paid. But this was still an incredible boon.

Even by simply working as normal, Orodan could now think with two minds, and looked as though he had a weird clone flitting in and out of his body and doing things independently of him only to disappear within one second of starting the action.

His mental thought process and speed being boosted by two essentially allowed him to think and learn two times faster than before.

To others it appeared as though it was a slightly disturbing form of esoteric magic. But to Orodan who knew exactly what it was really doing, the implication that he was breaking reality and affecting causality by performing two things at the exact same time wasn’t lost on him.

He travelled down the length of an entire chopped tree in seconds, simultaneously stripping it of bark and chopping it into pieces suitable for construction. What was a process that took ten seconds before, took five now as there was essentially two of him working at the same time, two minds focusing on the same task, working in perfect synergy, capable of each performing an action of their own.

“This is… I feel like a God…” Orodan muttered to himself, but then recalled that scary old man Adeltaj Simarji. He certainly hadn’t felt like any kind of divinity when fighting that scary old monster of a man. “But I still have a ways to go.”

His All-Strike, amplified by two due to his Action Increase, had destroyed the entire town of Velestok. He hadn’t even known it was that powerful, or else he would’ve held back from obliterating an entire town.

Just how powerful was he now?

He hadn’t had the time to go to the next town and peruse the library, so Orodan asked Vilia Coventor the fledgling architect about who Adeltaj Simarji was.

While her academic knowledge on history wasn’t extensive, she had gone to a crafting academy, and it let her share that nearly seven-hundred years ago in the Eastern Kingdoms a terrifying desert worm the size of an entire mountain range was devastating the deserts of the Aswarthian Peninsula. A hero was given a Quest by the world to slay the calamitous beast, and one of the hero’s companions was a halberd-wielding warrior known as Adeltaj Simarji.

While such history would normally be obscure and foreign in the Republic, House Simarji proudly spoke of their heritage and proudly venerated Adeltaj Simarji, whom they regarded as one of the founding ancestors of their house and a proud link back to their roots in the Eastern Kingdoms.

And given the House’s close ties and importance to the Republic, the history lesson was rather widely taught in the martial, magic and crafting academies throughout the Republic of Aden.

The old man was apparently quite famous. Although when asked if he was still alive, Vilia could only look at him strangely and almost sarcastically remind Orodan that it had been seven-hundred years since.

Which, for someone like Vilia to be skeptical was understandable. She was a crafter, and she was part of the common masses of society in seeing Master-level individuals and beyond as mere rumors and myths.

The Republic’s official education in the academies and the news never confirmed nor denied the existence of Masters, people whose skill level exceeded the threshold of 90.

But Orodan knew they existed. He had fought and killed a Master after all.

And if Adepts had their lifespans extended by fifty years and Elites were known to live up to three hundred… then for a Master to be very long-lived, perhaps even to the order of seven-hundred years like Adeltaj Simarji apparently was… wasn’t out of the question.

But he wondered if the knowledge that he was alive and acting as some kind of hermit was widespread even within his own House.

He thanked Vilia for her knowledge, and after finishing up the warehouse - without empowering the wood this time as his Mana Black Hole lacked the reserves in it - he made way for Velestok.

***

“Adeltaj Simarji! Come out! I wish to face your halberd myself!”

Ten minutes after he had marched to the lumber yard in Velestok, he’d boldly shouted that challenge. The Adept-level guards who tried kicking him out were given a respectful beating and it wasn’t Adeltaj Simarji who came to greet him, but a pair of two people. One, a man wearing robes, the other, a woman in heavy armor with a mace on her hip.

“Young man has nobody taught you that it’s rude to go around beating people up and demanding to see someone?” the calm voice of the robed man spoke. “I don’t know what academy you’re from or whose little Adept prodigy you are, but who are you to walk into House Simarji’s lumber yard and thrash our loyal guards? Are you asking for the kind of beating you gave them?”

Orodan didn’t reply but simply clenched his fists, and in response the woman drew her mace and the man’s hands erupted with sharp gale winds. The entire lumber yard went silent as the battle was on; the workers had long since evacuated.

One minute later, both Elite-level individuals were given a decent walloping and lay before him, battered and bruised.

“I just came by to see the venerable elder Adeltaj Simarji, I have no quarrel with you!” Orodan exclaimed.

“No quarrel he says… as he walks in and gives us a beating…” the woman muttered from the ground, and Orodan felt guilty. Perhaps his headstrong way of approaching things wasn’t exactly ideal.

“Young master… soon Count Rohanus will undoubtedly arrive to speak with you. I implore you wait for his arrival as I’ve sent word to him,” the man spoke as his communication amulet glowed.

And so Orodan allowed the Elites to leave peacefully and waited a whole fifteen minutes before the arrival of Count Rohanus Simarji, riding a silver-feathered griffin. He was flanked by two other silvered griffin riders.

The man furiously touched down on the ground alongside his accompanying allies and angrily marched towards Orodan.

“You! State your business and why you’ve assaulted my loyal men! I don’t recall House Simarji ever daring to offend anyone, and we would swiftly punish any within our own ranks who dared do so without just cause!” the bronze skinned man in flowing silver robes angrily exclaimed.

Robes implied he was a mage, and the rumors did say Count Rohanus Simarji was an Elite-level healer. So, for him to so boldly march towards someone who was carrying a sword and shield meant that either the man was stupid… or he was confident in melee combat if it came to it. And people who made it to the Elite-level weren't stupid.

From what Orodan heard of Elite-level healers, they either focused purely on healing… or healing was but one aspect of their skillset.

“I came here seeking Adeltaj Simarji, I wish to test myself against his halberd and learn from him!” Orodan proclaimed loudly, causing a grimace to appear on Count Rohanus’s face.

“Look… I don’t know who’s backing you, but you’re undoubtedly an incredible talent for your age to be capable of beating two seasoned Elites. And my sworn man Exelos tells me he feels Agathor’s Blessing upon you,” the Count began. “But I cannot simply call out the honored ancestor of my House whenever I feel like it. Furthermore, you’ve barged in and given a beating to many loyal sworn soldiers of House Simarji… do you think you can just walk away without providing any compensation? Who’s your backer? Which House are you with? I don’t recognize you…”

What was left unsaid was that anyone who was capable of beating up Elites at Orodan’s age could only be a famous prodigy. Count Rohanus knew of all the people in the Republic and nearby under the age of 20 who had the battle power of an Elite. That he didn’t recognize Orodan was making him even more suspicious.

“I have no backer. I’m a Private in the Volarbury county militia.”

“And Burgher Ignatius simply lets a talent like you walk around saying you’re a Private? What kind of game is this?” the man asked with mounting anger evident in his voice.

“It’s the truth, if you don’t believe me, what else can I say?” Orodan asked, his own battle-lust coming out.

Both parties were by this point spoiling for a fight.

Count Rohanus’s affairs had been interrupted when he was called to deal with this, and the indignation of having his loyal men thrashed was grating his nerves.

“You don’t need to say anything further,” the Count replied calmly all of a sudden, and Orodan’s fists clenched in preparation for a fight. “Since you were generous enough to allow my men off with a simple beating, I shall return the same to you. You’ll learn a harsh lesson today about the difference between an Elite and a Master.”

The rumors claimed Count Rohanus Simarji was a mere Elite-level healer.

But the man’s own words and the magically enhanced earth armor forming around his fists spoke a different story. As did the first crisp straight right jab that came for Orodan’s face.

All of Orodan’s skills were activated and he immediately reciprocated the violence. And soon an absolutely titanic clash of fists and kicks took place that began to crater the ground the two were fighting upon.

The Count’s two Elite-level guards hung back, likely at the request of the man himself. And because they wouldn’t be of much help against someone who could clash against a Master.

To his credit, while the Count’s eyes widened at the fact that Orodan could keep up in an exchange of blows evenly, the man quickly schooled his expression into one of utmost focus as the earth armor now covered his entire body.

The frenzied exchange carried on for fifteen more seconds, and some things became apparent.

The Count’s earth armor quickly deteriorated and lost all integrity and magical augmentation whenever it contacted Orodan. And the Count’s Physical Fitness was at the Adept-level and his Unarmed Combat Mastery wasn’t yet at the Master-level.

But the man’s healing was.

And this meant that the Count could take a beating.

For once Orodan had to wonder if he’d met someone as dogged about outlasting opponents in a fight as he was. Even if Orodan’s abilities and amplifiers gave him an advantage in a melee exchange, the Count was keeping up.

The Count couldn’t hurt him thanks to all of Orodan’s defensive skills, but despite the crazy amount of punches he’d landed, a glowing golden light simply enveloped the man and made the damage of the blows vanish. And Orodan didn’t want to use All-Strike and potentially kill the man, even if it would be weaker without the bottomless mana pool he had prior.

This was a Master-level healer.

But even still, Orodan was fighting someone who was primarily a mage. The outcome was lopsided in his favor.

A full minute of beatings ensued, and finally, the damage Orodan did began to outpace the Count’s ability to heal it in time, and with an ugly look on his face Count Rohanus Simarji finally leapt backwards.

“Are you really as young as you look?” the Count asked.

“I’m seventeen years of age, yes,” Orodan replied, although this was correct physically, but it would be a lie mentally and chronologically.

“…are you perhaps a reincarnator? The only other one I know of is serving as the Emperor’s advisor in Novarria, the oracles would have sensed it if another had emerged…”

“I am not a reincarnator, the only life I know is the one as Orodan Wainwright,” Orodan swiftly shut down.

The man’s eyes took on a contemplating gaze at his reply but finally came to a decision as he now ordered his two Elite-level guards forward. And they were both melee fighters.

It should have been a foregone conclusion. Orodan could now pulverize Elites like they were nothing.

But what should have been a foregone conclusion turned into five minutes of furious battle in which Orodan kept beating the two heavily armored swordsmen with his fists and the glowing golden light kept on healing them.

It turned out that the Count’s ability to heal others was even stronger than his ability to heal himself. Additionally, Orodan would swear that the golden light was also making them stronger, as no other Elites he had fought were this good at melee.

Finally, it was a sense of experimentation with Mana Black Hole and utilizing his Action Increase that ended the fight.

Two Power Strikes were thrown simultaneously with each hand, and in the same moment in time, two more Power Strikes were launched as reality was twisted. The quadruple attack simultaneously focused on one of the fighters, and Orodan used the opening to swiftly rush towards the Count and gripped both of the man’s hands.

He sensed the man’s mana pool and pulled.

The Count recoiled and his skin turned pale, and although it was painless, it was as though the exhaustion had suddenly set in, causing the man to fall to his knees. On Orodan’s end he felt the previously dry pool of Mana Black Hole suddenly become slightly more rejuvenated from draining a Master-level mage's entire mana pool.

The golden light surrounding the Count’s two guards vanished due to the lack of mana supplying it, and they suddenly drew their weapons and protectively stood in front of the man once they reached him.

“I have no quarrel with you… I just seek Adeltaj Simarji,” Orodan replied.

And behind him, Orodan heard a voice that was definitely not there before.

“Now who’s going around causing a ruckus and asking for an old man like me?”

Orodan turned around to see none other than the old man himself.