Chapter 44
To Rear a Feral Cub
Asher picked up the ring slowly, feeling the heated gaze of the mother-daughter pair burn through the back of his head. He ignored them, however, fiddling with the ring between his fingers for a moment before letting it rest atop his palm. It was cool to touch, perfectly carved, its rough edges both smooth and sharp at the same time. And then he inspected it, somewhat expectant.
Soul of the Forest [Quasi-Divine Ring]
Requirements: 800 Intelligence, ‘Friend of the Forest’ Title [can wield Ring’s power in part without the requirements]
...
Requirements unmet. Only part of the Ring’s functions will be displayed.
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+13 Intelligence
+300 Health
+3 HP Regeneration
+44% to XP rate within the Stages
+50% to Souls yield from the Stage Rewards
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[Master of the Terrain] -- gain 200% Movement Speed within forested terrains.
[Kindred Touch] -- heal all wounds at 350% speed within forested terrains.
[Dark-Tempered] -- deal 80% more damage, move 60% faster, and gain an extra 2 HP Regeneration during the nighttime.
[Ironbark Skin] -- once per Stage, strengthen your skin and gain 348 Physical Defense for 10 seconds.
[Moonlit Cascade] -- once per Stage, forcibly switch the time of day to night.
[Dryad's Salvation] -- once per Stage, summon a Wild Dryad to your defense for 15 seconds.
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Description: At the precise moment of its perfect incubation, the Ring’s Soul got afflicted with Rot. Its Divinity stripped, the Soul’s remnants were discovered by a Legendary Smith who used the last ounces of their life force to forcibly mature the Soul into the condensed form. However, in the process, the Soul lost its intelligence, the Smith lost their life, and the ring was forever bound to the realm of mortals. Even so, a touch of Divine remains within, making it one of the few existing Artifacts on the precipice of Divinity, yet still just a Legendary creation.
Asher stared emptily at the vast screen in front of him. When he first read the requirements, his belief that he was being screwed with got rekindled like the dying winter's flame. And yet...
His spirited eyes darted between the ring and the seething shadow that remained unmoving. Everyone was silent, the entire hall penned by a quilt of quiet, seemingly waiting for his judgment.
“Yeah, it’s amazing,” Asher spoke. “Won’t they just kill me and steal it back, anyway?”
“Ha ha ha, yes, it would very much be in their blood to do so,” the shadow spoke. “My, my--I’ve scarcely met a human so paranoid, I must say. Very well--all here in the Hall shall swear an Oath today that they shall not go out of their way to harm you for the next three years. It shall give you ample room to grow and, when the day comes that the scourges of hell descend upon you, you may yet stand a chance of killing a few before being buried.”
“That is enough, Duke,” a voice of regal dignity boomed out, suddenly preventing the shadow from dancing around freely.
“What are you doing?” the shadow asked.
“We give you way for your service to the Crown,” the Emperor said. “Long and harsh it had been. But you are not the ruler, Duke. Your voice, heavy though it is, is not holy. How dare you even suggest you could make Us swear an Oath?”
“...” the shadow turned silent. However, Asher found it strange--it was... too abrupt. Too odd. In fact, it was familiar--like how Ike and he used to chat when undercover.
“You have impugned Our dignity enough,” the Emperor said. “As a punishment, you shall donate a bounty of gold to the Crown and defend the eastern border for another ten years, and you shall do so in silence, lest you want your head buried by your boy’s.”
"Humph, your words are harsh, Your Majesty," the shadow said. "My boy's head lies there because he died for the Crown. For that very chair you are seated upon."
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“And We have graciously honored him, and endured you enough,” the Emperor replied. Gimme a break, though? Asher was certain, more and more, that this was... a play. The entire thing was staged, where the new guard puts the old one in its place as a show of force so that the rest of the world doesn’t get any funny thoughts. “Obey these orders, or be forever damned.”
“... this lowly one obeys,” the haughty voice compelled itself into servitude. There’s no fucking way these idiots buy this, right?! And yet, judging by the gasps of shock and Qyne’s and her mother’s gleeful expressions, they were sucking on the straw harder than--Oh my God...
"Disperse everyone," the Emperor's voice bellowed out. "We shall mete judgment upon the lowly human." though it seemed like both Qyne and her mother wanted to say something, likely thanks to the previous 'show of force', they kept their lips and disappeared. Even the shadow, after seemingly glancing toward him, vanished, leaving only two figures in the hall. One was the lofty Emperor and the other was an extremely confused and despondent human. "Alice," the haughty voice suddenly softened, yanking Asher back into reality. It seemed as though there were more shocks to come. "How is she?"
“...” What the hell did I get myself tangled into here...? Asher sighed, standing up slowly as the pressure had disappeared. For a moment he considered ‘threatening’ the Emperor by pointing out that he’d seen through the ‘perfect ploy’, but thought better of it. He would likely be immediately made one with the floor, if he was lucky. “Strange.”
“Hm? Strange? Yes, indeed,” the voice was no longer that of a regal divinity, of a figure who lorded above the masses--but that of a young man flooded with emotion. “She had always been the strange sort, I recall,” He even dropped the ‘We’ shit...? "Alice... would not have spared you for some picayune reason like racial sympathy," the golden light began to fade as the silhouette of the figure strode forward, the shimmer around him fading bit by bit until he came into focus--it helped little, however, as the man wore a golden mask in the face of a tiger and a loose, golden coat that covered his entire body. The only thing of note was the hair--golden with hints of twilight purple, making for strange streaks. "Though she is human, just like you, she is every bit as malcontent as us. No... the only reason Alice would have spared you... is because you impressed her, somehow."
“...” Asher remained silent; the Emperor towered over him--the man... no, the creature, at this point, seemed to be over ten feet tall, at the very least, with long and thin limbs writhing under the silken coat.
“You shall retain the ring,” the Emperor spoke. “And no one shall bother you for the foreseeable future. However, Fairy Princess will remain your guide.”
“I’d rather--”
“--do not banter,” he interrupted. “You have neither the right nor the power to. You are lucky, comparatively at the very least. You have a room and a bed to call your own, and daily ratios delivered to your feet. Alice? She had nothing but her body and her wits. If it helps, Qyne won’t be allowed to interfere with your journey for a long while. So, you two can verbally spit at each other until your throats burn. Pray we shall never meet again, you unfortunate thing. For that meeting shall be your last.”
A pang of pain--he couldn’t even utter a word before he felt it shoot through him like a current. Within the painful blink, he found himself spat back into the rugged cabin, far from the ornate riches of the throne room, back in destitute.
The ring rattled against the rough floor as it fell out of his hand, droning on like a spinning pin for a few moments before settling. His gaze drifted over toward it, heavy and encumbered. Did he... win? In a way, he did. He got an amazing item as a reward worth who-knows-how-many-Levels. He even got to watch Qyne squirm with a lowered head, unable to say anything. He got to lift his head up and proclaim the pride of humanity.
So why... why did he feel so empty?
At the end of the day, he was a pawn. He was nothing--just a useful toy. Nobody in that room saw him in any capacity; they just saw an object clinging to the hollow bones of pointless pomp.
“Humph, you brainless bastard! Return that ring at once!!” a familiar voice screeched into the room. He hated it. He hated it to his very bones. Every sound she made was like the chalk grating against the board, straining his ears. “You worthless scum, how dare you covet--”
“--shut the fuck up,” he growled, standing up.
“Huh? What did you just say to--” Asher slapped out as hard as he could; the buzzing sound disappeared, replaced by a crashing one. The winged creature got slammed into the wall and bounced back, but before she could recover, Asher grabbed her and squeezed as hard as he could. “AAAAAAAGHHHHH!!!!” blood sprayed between his fingers and a scream of pain bellowed out. A moment later, a pulse of soul-stirring energy pushed his fingers apart and spliced through him, sending him barreling backward into the opposite wall.
It hurt; it felt as though someone had slammed his spine with a brick. But he didn’t care. There was too much within him--too much to internalize. Too much--no, he stopped himself. It was easy to give into anger, to surrender to the primal want. He looked over to the other side of the room where he saw Qyne emerge from the pool of blood, refined anew. And yet, there was a look of horror in her gaze--she hadn't expected it, it seemed. Whether it was his retaliating, or his retaliation to hurt... it seemed that the dynamic between them had changed.
But she was not at fault for his circumstances--she was not the one who took him from his home and shoved him into this hell. She was not the one making him dance for the amusement of some Lords and Ladies. She simply reveled in the only thing she had ever known.
“Don’t talk to me for now,” he said, picking up the ring and walking back to the bedroom. “I’m not in the mood.”
He tossed himself onto the bed and closed his eyes.
There were too many things within his heart--so many, in fact, that it had grown corrupt. He always fancied himself patient--the sort that could take ten years of humiliation if it meant he’d come out on top. So, why was it different here, in this world? It was as though there was an alien desire bored deep into him, egging him on in deathly silence, pushing him to change.
He wasn’t a particularly clever man--not compared to those whose wits were responsible for his survival, anyway--but he wasn’t stupid either. And yet, he’d already made several stupid mistakes since coming here.
Alice, he thought. Yes, that should become his anchor. Where there was one, there could be another. And another. And another. Somehow, someway, she managed to liberate herself from this place. He should strive to do the same, no matter what.
Not succumb to the base, fiery emotions and let them command him. He was better than that, at the very least. Yes, he was a toy, a pawn, a nobody, but that was irrelevant. He was not dependent on their validation, whoever they were--he was never that kind of a person. All he ever needed was the belief in self... and the results would always follow.
Let them think I’m a toy, he mused as sleep caressed him gently. Until their dying fucking breaths, I hope...
END OF BOOK I