Path of the Slayer B1 C19. Use All That’s Available

There was no such thing as an independent adventurer in the Supreme Sovereign Empire. Not among humans, nor the other Ranker folks.

The empire regulated everything from the top down, and the only freedom to be had was in the guilds. Even then, that freedom was placed under strict procedures, so it really wasn’t anything but scraps.

In the daily life of a purebred imperial, those strict procedures were perfectly fine. In their heads, rules were as ironclad as the words of their so-called God Emperor.

Consequently, if there was a major business, there was a guild, and if there was a guild, it was under the control of the empire, and because the empire served the God Empire, it was all fine.

Imperial humans, elves, dwarves, and half-giants took that to heart mostly.

But those strict rules and procedures didn’t seem to stick in the heads of nomads very well. My people didn’t originate from the Supreme Sovereign Empire World, after all. At least not within the last thousand years.

The imperials have it written in their history books that we were saved from savage Realms far outside.

Nomads, of course, keep an oral tradition that wasn’t always written. Even though I’d tried my best to subscribe to the ways of the empire, even I knew the oral histories of my people.

We were just passing through, and the empire took that as a sign that we belonged to them. Whatever fights that had occurred long ago were sanded out of the imperial history books, but I knew nomads had refused at first until we couldn’t refuse any further.

Not all nomads had dark skin. Some were tan. A few were even pale like purebred imperials. There were even nomads who were elvish or dwarven. But we all had dark eyes and curly hair that liked to be twisted into styles that were special to us, such as my dreadlocks. And most of us had an attitude that sought independence, which naturally grated against the ways of the empire.

I’d tried to separate myself from the usual nomad attitude.

I’d tried to become a good imperial and follow the rules.

I’d tried to rise above my origins, as if my ancestry was something to shed and be forgotten.

Yet, here I was, committing bloody treason because I knew deep down I couldn’t go back. I didn’t care if they had a special program for Pathwalkers or whatever … I was independent now.

I was free.

That freedom in the eyes of the empire was a crime – especially among adventurers. The fact that I had the prominent features of a nomad was just a bonus for their motivation to put me down hard.

“Damn, Royce was right,” I muttered as I took a walk outside. “No matter what, he is more of a brother to me than most.”

I wasn’t going out of my way to tell him that. It was more likely that I would kick his ass a little before we were square.

It was still the daytime cycle in the Raining Ruin Hell Realm. Sunballs glowed orange in the crimson skies above. An oily, rainbow-colored cloud broke a few streets to my right and let down a heavy patter of rain.

Bladed flowers crinkled under my boots as I strode through the low vegetation that covered every street and surrounded every dark tower. I spotted ghouls and demons shambling about or doing their own thing. Imps circled in the air.

I needed to defend this place for the next twenty hours so I could finally do what I wanted. I could go into meditation now and wake up with 100% in my Path Energy, but I doubted that was the best move.

So, I did something new.

I asked for Hellion’s advice, and the cursed thing gladly answered.

“There are more Portals, aren’t there? And you’re an artificer as you like to claim, hm, my liege? If you know these golden adventurers will be on their way to assault you, why not prepare a greeting in the similar vein in return? You have the means to prepare without having to meditate. It’s all here.”

Damn, the half ripper was as conniving as he was dapper. It almost felt like I was a villain in an old imperial children’s story. The good imperial adventurers, which always featured the brightest and most handsome gold, would always triumph over the dark and evil threats to the empire.

I used to imagine myself as the golden imperial adventurer.

Looking down at my left hand, I figured I was better off being me. And that meant I should abuse every knowledge, training, tactics, and talents I’d accrued the past six years. 

***

“Okay, you lot!” I shouted toward a gathering of ghouls, demons, and imps at a wide city square. “I’m going to need your help to defend my Realm. Chances are, you can’t put up much of a fight. But that doesn’t mean you can’t help me out.”

I saw more of them streaming in from four different directions after I used my privileges as a Realm Master to simply … well … shout for them to arrive. I did a lot of shouting for the past half hour, but it worked, and they came, with hundreds of them surrounding me and looking at me with their gray and black eyes.

“It would take too long for me to collect everything on my own and place them where I need them. So, you all are going to go find these particular items.”

I picked up a steel support beam that was twice as big as me. There were a few lying around in different structures that looked the most incomplete compared to other towers.

Once I turned around and was sure they all saw the steel support beam, I placed it down and picked up a thinner metal rod that acted as some extra support within the stone of the structures.

Again, wherever there was a tower that was incomplete, I’d found these thin metal rods in stacks. Once I performed the demonstration for all of my hellish helpers, I placed down the thin rod.

Then I raised a thick cursed object in the shape of a large wrench. There were other cursed tools I could’ve gone for, but I chose a simple wrench since it was large and I could reshape it into something else as needed.

After the showcase was complete, I ordered my helpers to follow me to the side where I’d found the most intact crafter shop I could ask for out of the Realm. The large doors were already locked upward.

The workshop was the size of a warehouse. Throughout it were different equipment for crafting. Though, they were all alien to what I’d known from the instruments used back in the Empire.

I could still recognize the furnace for what it was as well as a grinder. But how they functioned was different – there was a heavier emphasis in mechanical gears, which had all degraded significantly.

The furnace I planned to use was ten feet wide and had a slot in the middle. I noticed there was a place for a fuel source, which would’ve come in handy if this Realm had such.

“Wait, does it have oil?”

I summoned a viewing window and found an underground bunker with large tankers that were dripping a black oily substance. Once I teleported into space and had a whiff, I was certain one spark would’ve blown this place up.

It was probably best if I transferred the fuel myself. Teleporting back, I turned to my legion and pointed at the workshop behind me.

“You all gather the required material. I’m going to work here until it’s time for me to charge up my Path Energy. Now, go, and thank you.”

I waved them off, and to my pleasure, the denizens of my Realm turned about and went to do what I asked.

They didn’t talk. Not in any language I would know. They just did as they were told.

Before long, I had the strong and muscular demons hauling a dozen beams on their shoulders. Ghouls carried the thin support rods in their arms. And imps took it on themselves to act as scouts and managers, screeching down at the grounded monsters to direct them where they could find more of what I wanted.

I had nineteen hours left before the Portal closed.

When it came to getting the forge equipment going, I had to get creative and rely more on magic than I would’ve preferred. Specifically, I used the metal tip of my half ripper finger to carve runes into the surfaces of the equipment while channeling Path Energy.

Gear Modder Speed, my first Great Skill, was active at this point. That boosted the speed and coordination of my dexterity, so my hand flew fast and accurately as I inscribed the runes I knew. But things weren’t going without a hitch.

Hellion chuckled behind my ear while my energy passed through his cursed body. The runes flickered between blue and red that weren’t quite right. Before they settled into formation, a few of them changed into runes I didn’t recognize.

“What the hell?”

I took two steps back after finishing inscribing the control enchantments that would override the need for mechanics, at least temporarily. The runes flickered between blue and red, between Aether and cursed energy.

Then I heard a troubling sound that was oil flowing on its own into the machine like it was blood. The alien forge activated, its temperature rising surprisingly fast.

“Ah, how wonderful, another distant and subpar family of mine,” Hellion said, chuckling.

I palmed my face with my left hand. “Of course this would happen. I really am going to end up becoming a cursed artificer, amn’t I?”

“You don’t have to.” Pause. “But if you want to survive, my liege, you’ll have to use all that’s available to you.”

I glared at the cursed forging furnace as the interior inside of its slot grew hotter than a Rank 1 furnace would. At least it had that going for it. I had little choice but to use it as the metal materials I asked for were showing up at the workshop’s doorstep.

I teleported back and forth to collect oil from the underground tankards in buckets and canisters to ensure the furnace had plenty of fuel. I used the same tactic of channeling Path Energy through my half ripper finger to inscribe runes on the quenching tank, grinder, anvil, and the tools I’d collected.

I used different rune enchantments for different equipment – temperature runes for the quenching tank, sharpening runes for the grinder, impact runes for the anvil, and hardening runes for the tools.

The work was extremely fast and easy because of my Great Skill, Gear Modder Speed. It was almost surprising how much I could get done now compared to how I would’ve struggled on every aspect when I once lacked magic.

I had eighteen hours before the Portal closed.

The gold adventurers would certainly show up before then, so I really had less time than what I could track by keeping tabs on the Portal. My Path Energy was down to 22% by this point, but the furnace was heated up to its highest temperature, and I’d found a quenching oil substitute from cracking open the strange mechanical hearts inside of the alien carriages.

Why would there be oil in a carriage? I didn’t have the answer and could only guess. Maybe they used their own special artificing to make the carriages move instead of being drawn by horses or mules.

The only key component I did without was the use of tongs – my half ripper hand served well enough on its own, resisting the high heat.

Other than that, Gear Modder Speed and other the cursed equipment were lifesavers. The latter had quirks, though, which revealed themselves as I smelted the ends of the support beams and hammered them into shape with the hammer and anvil.

Every cursed item wanted to take a nip of me – even if a small one.

The furnace tried to extend its smelting heat to burn me. The cursed hammer sometimes redirected itself to hit my finger. The anvil made unnecessarily loud clunking noises with each impact that hurt my ears.

The grinder shot sparks at my eyes.

The only one that didn’t try much of anything was the quenching tank, but I did notice an evil energy extending from my newly forged stakes.

I also had to deal with consistent complications with the forging equipment breaking – or losing its runic magic. Because I wasn’t a full enchanter, the rudimentary runes I used to enchant were supposed to support an entire ensemble of crafting that made artificing special.

I wasn’t supposed to lean heavily on it, or I would’ve been an enchanter. That meant I had to stop production and rewrite the runes, which required me to channel more of my Path Energy into Hellion, which quickened the descent of my Path Energy reserves.

I had seventeen hours before the Portal closed.

My Path Energy was at 12%. I stopped the production and ordered demons to take the cursed stakes where I wanted. I also showed them how to place them, and to my ever-growing surprise, they took to the instructions well.

I wasn’t sure if they were completely sapient, but I’d noticed how they would have individual quirks among their own species. Some demons were faster workers while other demons were strong lifters. The ghouls were more homogeneous, while the imps seemed to compete to see who could boss the other monsters around the most and win my attention.

“I’ll have to go to an easy Realm,” I said. “I’m not particularly a fan of that, though.”

“Desperate times call for malevolent measures, my liege,” Hellion said smoothly.

Reaching down, I picked up a makeshift quiver made from a bag that had once held strangely shaped clubs. The quiver now held my recently reforged javelins, each one emitting cursed magic, the runes written finely on their twisted surfaces glowing a hateful red.

I could’ve held the javelins in my storage ring, but I wasn’t sure what the icy effect would do to them. It was best I held them plainly for now.

Using a viewing window, I located one of three Portals connected to my Passage Realm. I stepped forward and teleported into a rundown gymnasium with flattened balls and dusty equipment strewn about the floor.

A brown oval shimmered in front of me while hovering a few inches above the floor. With my left hand, I reached out and touched the Portal.

[You’re about to enter the Hungry Mole Cavern Realm: Rank 2 Challenge (Common).]

I sighed in disappointment. The other option was a Rank 3 Challenge Realm, which would’ve been more interesting, if somewhat out of my league.

It was more important to get in, charge up my Path Energy, and get out. The Raining Ruin Hell Realm was too good to leave behind, not when there were so many resources that would be perfect for my artificing.

“Alright, let’s get on with our cursed selves,” I said, entering the Portal fully. Brown light filled my vision. The soft roar of dimensional magic flowing over me like a waterfall filled my ears.

[You’ve entered the Hungry Mole Cavern Realm: Rank 2 Challenge (Common)!]

[You have until (3) days to complete this challenge and return to the Raining Ruin Hell Realm. Or you’ll lose your Title as Raining Ruin Hell Realm Master and your Realm will go from Passage back to Challenge.]